by Tara Sue Me
Richard opened his mouth as if he would interrupt, but Lance shot him a look that made him change his mind. “You have worked for my grandmother for three years; however, I have been her grandson for much longer. Do you understand?”
Richard was smart enough to only nod.
“Though I do not typically sit here and listen, I know the characteristics my grandmother requires for the recipient of the scholarship bearing my mother’s name. Therefore, if I determine an applicant has none of these characteristics, I’m doing us all a favor by not wasting time and letting that person go.”
Lance estimated Richard cost him valuable time by putting him in a position to explain himself. He rarely explained himself. Even rarer did he do so to anyone’s personal assistant. The fact he’d just done so, and that there were people who could hear the conversation, irritated him. He needed to move this thing along. He had real work to do. Though he couldn’t deny his grandmother's request when she asked him to take her place today. His Grandmother Murphy was the one person he couldn’t tell no.
Beside him, Richard swallowed and sweat beaded on his forehead. “Yes, Mr. Braxton. I understand.”
Lance nodded. “You’re excused. I’ll finish up here.”
The other man scrambled to pick up his notebook and pens. Lance waited with a patience he didn’t feel until the door closed behind the assistant his grandmother insisted was a lifesaver. He didn’t see how, but Richard wasn’t his problem. At least on most days. Today, he’d been a major pain in the ass.
“Let’s go, people,” he said to no one in particular, knowing someone would hear and usher out the next applicant. He shuffled the papers in front of him. How many more did he have to sit through?
The click of heels on the stage alerted him the next applicant was in place. He pulled the information sheet he had on whoever it was. “Name?” He asked without looking up.
“Celeste Walsh.”
Her voice was delicate and feminine. Yet something in her tone spoke of a quietly held strength. It intrigued him and he looked up. She was stunning for lack of a better word. At some point her dark hair had been pulled up, now, however, more than a few strands had fallen free, giving her a wild and untamed appearance.
An appearance that should have been at odds with her elegant yet subtle black floor length dress, but somehow wasn’t. In fact, her entire ensemble could be described as a hot mess. Instead she was one of the hottest women he’d seen in a long time.
She stood waiting, the very epitome of calm, violin in hand as if she had all the time in the world. Not at all as if he held her future in his hands, which he did based upon the paper in front of him.
He wanted to crush the paper. Because in doing so he would have no ties to the glorious creature before him. Which meant he could do any damn thing she would allow him to do to her. And he’d make sure she wanted the same things he did.
But he couldn’t do that, so he cleared his throat and said, “Whenever you’re ready, Ms. Walsh.”
She gave him a curt nod, closed her eyes, and played.
He recognized the song within the first few bars, and it both impressed and surprised him. He should stop her. It was a difficult and complex piece, even for the most accomplished violinist, and he didn’t want to listen while she fucked up her chance at his scholarship. Yet, he couldn’t because that moment in time served one purpose - for Celeste Walsh to play her violin for him.
Not that he thought for a second he might stop her. He couldn’t. Not with the way she played. With Celeste, playing violin involved her entire body. She swayed at times. Others, she held still. No matter what, though, her face was a myriad of expressions while she held the bow and touched the strings as she would a lover.
She kept her eyes closed the entire time, and Lance felt as if he were peeking at a private or intimate moment. Her performance was one of the most erotic things he’d ever witnessed. In fact, music had never aroused him the way it did when she played. Never had he been so thankful for a table. He’d hate for her, or anyone for that matter, to see the erection her playing caused.
He wondered if anyone else had offered her a scholarship and this audition was just for fun? Had such passion filled all of her pervious auditions? Was she always so euphoric while she played? It was borderline obscene, and he loved it. He wanted more of it.
He wanted her.
She held him captive until the last note sounded and even when its echo had disappeared from the room, she held still, not yet releasing him from her spell. Until she moved, he didn’t breathe.
Finally, she opened one eye and then the other, looking around almost as if she’d forgotten where she was. That wasn’t possible, though, was it? She looked toward where he sat, the room's lighting did not allow her to see him, and for a second looked as if he'd caught her doing something naughty.
Holy hell. Did she get turned on playing the violin? He didn’t know, but damn it all to hell, he would find out.
She remained on stage, clearly expecting him to dismiss her. He didn’t feel bad in the least keeping her waiting. Her feet shifted the slightest bit. The small movement was so far the only hint she wasn’t near as calm as she portrayed.
He picked up a paper from the pile in front of him and made it a point not to look at her when he spoke. “You’re twenty-five?”
“Yes, sir.”
Her unexpected use of ‘sir’ sent a shock throughout his body. He opened his mouth to tell her she didn’t have to call him ‘sir’ but shut it just as quickly because he’d have added “Yet.”
He kept his gaze even and uninterested when he lifted his head. “You’re significantly older than most of your peers auditioning today.”
She remained silent, and he nodded in approval. Yes, she would be a fun one. “Why are you only now applying to Juilliard?” he asked.
“After I graduated from high school, my grandmother came to live with us. My mom couldn’t both watch her and do what she had been doing with the family business. I took over my Mom’s role so she could care for her mother.”
“What was your mother’s job?”
“She was the pastry chef at our family’s restaurant.”
Impressive and not listed on her application. “You worked as a pastry chef for seven years?”
“I wasn’t always the pastry chef. Sometimes I waited tables and sometimes I washed dishes.”
He nodded, not interested in the past, and definitely not interested in listening about her washing dishes. “Why the violin? Why now?”
She shifted her gaze to somewhere beyond him, and her eyes took on a faraway look. “Because it’s my time now. My time to stand on my own and to make something of myself. Because I love the violin and nothing would make me happier than to play it every day. And because I don’t want to work in a restaurant all my life.”
And she shouldn’t, he thought. Not with the way she’d just played that piece. Working in a restaurant would waste her talent, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. Not when he had a way to ensure it wouldn’t.
He stacked the pile of papers in front of him and tapped them on the table. What was the name of the woman working on stage who ushered the applicants on and off? She’d introduced herself when he’d first arrived, but he hadn’t made note of it, deciding it was a detail Richard could worry with. Which did him no good since he gave the man the boot.
“Thank you, Ms. Walsh,” he said to the waiting woman on stage and smiled inwardly at the curt nod she gave in response and how she turned to walk away as if he’d excused her. “I did not say I excused you.”
She froze and turned. “But you said -”
“Do not make it a habit to repeat back to me what I said. I have no trouble remembering my words, especially if I spoke them mere seconds before. What I said was, 'Thank you, Ms. Walsh' which in no way sounds like, ‘You are excused.’ Now, move back to where you were.”
While she took the few necessary steps to return to her initial spot in the middle of
the stage, he addressed those still waiting and the woman whose name he couldn’t remember. “That’s all for this year. Thank you for coming. You’re excused.” Ignoring the muttered protests, he turned his attention back to Celeste. “See how that works? The ‘you’re excused’ part?”
She gaped at him in shock though. Probably wasn’t hearing anything at all. From the look on her face, everything he said went in one ear and straight out the other. He didn’t say anything else to her. Best she learn from the start how he operated.
The woman with the name he couldn’t remember stepped out the shadows and onto the stage. She held one hand like a shield over her eyes, probably trying to see him better. “Mr. Braxton?”
“Yes.” He knew what she would say, and he didn’t want to hear it. After gathering together the few things he’d brought in, he walked to the stage.
As expected, as soon as his foot hit the first step, she appeared before him, flustered and flipping through pages on a clipboard. “There are three more violinists waiting backstage, and we haven’t even started the brass group and….” Her voice trailed off when she looked up and saw him shaking his head.
“No,” he said.
“No?”
“There will be no more auditions for this year’s scholarship.” Having made his way up the stairs to the stage, he turned to Celeste. “Get your things together and come with me.”
AMERICAN ASSHOLE
"Scorching sex, well-developed characters, occasional bursts of humor, and skillful plotting make Me’s series launch a must-read." - PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
He groaned my name as he pressed deeper inside me and I fisted the white sheets so tightly my knuckles almost matched their color.
We shouldn’t be doing this, but more importantly I shouldn’t be doing this. I should have never let it get this far. I knew better.
I should have never said yes to dinner. I should have never said yes to this trip. I should have never said yes to the contract.
But damn it all I had, even knowing what it would cost us both.
His weight pressed me into the mattress and his breath was hot in my ear. “Are you still with me?” Then for good measure he shifted his hips so his next thrust hit a new spot inside me and I moaned in pleasure.
It seemed I was unable to say no to the man. Nor did I want to. My body moved with his, desperate to draw him deeper.
“Are you?” he asked again, his lips brushing my nape and sending shivers down my spine.
“Yes. Oh, God, yes.”
Also by Tara Sue Me
THE SUBMISSIVE SERIES:
The Submissive
The Dominant
The Training
The Chalet*
Seduced by Fire
The Enticement
The Collar
The Exhibitionist
The Master
The Exposure
The Claiming*
The Flirtation
Mentor’s Match
The Mentor & The Master*
Top Trouble
RACK ACADEMY SERIES:
Master Professor
Headmaster
BACHELOR INTERNATIONAL:
American Asshole
THE DATE DUO:
The Date Dare
The Date Deal
WALL STREET ROYALS:
FOK
Big Swinging D
OTHERS:
Her Last Hello
Altered Allies (currently unavailable)
Writing as Tara Thomas
Shattered Fear*
Hidden Fate*
Twisted End*
Darkest Night
Deadly Secret
Broken Promise
*eNovella
About the Author
NEW YORK TIMES/USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR
Even though she graduated with a degree in science, Tara knew she’d never be happy doing anything other than writing. Specifically, writing love stories.
She started with a racy BDSM story and found she was not quite prepared for the unforeseen impact it would have. Nonetheless, she continued and The Submissive Series novels would go on to be both New York Times and USA Today Bestsellers. One of those, THE MASTER, was a 2017 RITA finalist for Best Erotic Romance. Well over one million copies of her books have been sold worldwide.
www.tarasueme.com
