by C. L. Stone
“Can I help?”
“Only if I get to call you delicate snowflake flower thing from now on.”
“I think I like aggele mou better.”
His eyes brightened. He dipped his forehead close, touching mine. “You are aggele mou.”
MRS. MORGAN
Victor had rolled his chair over to the long table Silas had been working at. He was hunched over the laptop, scrolling through text messages. The computer monitors were gone, back into the dragon desk, the black mat deceptively concealing. The reversed clock I’d hacked remained on the desk, dead center.
I entered the room quietly, closing the door behind me. “I thought Silas already went through all of them,” I said softly.
He jerked back, turning his head around. He sat back in his chair facing me. “I was curious.”
“About what?” I crossed the room, sitting in Silas’s chair.
Those fire eyes followed my every movement, as if trying to figure out my mood. “I guess I was wondering what other guys were trying to talk to you about. North always gets those notes.”
I glanced at the computer screen. It was tilted, a glare from the light above our heads concealing it from my view. “Anything interesting?”
“Not really.”
I bit my lip, pretending to study the screen anyway. I rubbed absentmindedly at a spot on my elbow. After talking with Silas, I didn’t know where to start. “I’m sorry about earlier.” That sounded good.
“Why are you sorry?”
The question caused me to glance back at him. I thought at first he maybe didn’t want to talk. His fire eyes flickered to life, curious. “I know you and the others are looking out for me. I didn’t mean to bicker.”
“You don’t have to be sorry for telling me what you want.” Victor leaned forward, his eyes intent on my face. “I won’t tell you no unless there’s a good reason.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s just I was feeling a little ...”
“Too crowded?” he asked. “That we’re being overprotective?”
I nodded.
His smile softened. He stood, letting the chair roll away. He held out a hand, palm up. “Come with me.”
I bit back the urge to ask him where. I slipped my hand into his, standing.
He guided me to the double doors on the other end of the room. He opened one and stepped back.
Behind the doors was the third floor balcony I’d seen earlier from the outside. I blinked at the onslaught of natural light. I stepped out, feeling the cool patio floor on my bare feet.
The balcony overlooked part of the grounds, but mostly I was looking out at the other homes along the street. Most of them were beautiful, with pale white, pink or green painted siding and exquisite gardens and architecture. Still, the homes were very close to one another, and I thought perhaps there were people who could see us, too. That alone made it seemed crowded. There was an awkward sense of wanting to enjoy the balcony and the view, but also of being watched. I felt my cheeks warming, wondering if someone was looking out their window now, wondering who the girl on the balcony was.
Victor stepped up next to me, planting his palms on the balcony rail and leaned on it. “What do you think?”
“It’s a nice neighborhood.”
He chuckled. “You don’t like the house.”
“I haven’t seen all of it yet, but I like the inside just fine.”
“But you don’t like where it’s at.”
I wanted to say it was fine, but I had the feeling he was testing me. “I think I’m used to living with more space. This feels ... crowded. I feel like people are watching us.”
“Which is why my parents bought it.” His fire lit up. “And the reason why I hate it.”
My eyebrows hunched. “You’re on stage all the time, aren’t you?”
“Not because I want to be.” He crossed his arms over his chest and spun away from the view to lean back against the rail, turning to me. “I don’t remember how long I’ve been playing piano. I think I’ve always been able to. What I do remember was the first time I stepped on stage, and my father ordering me to play. When I clammed up in front of everyone, he screamed at me.”
I tilted my head at him, no longer interested in the third-floor view. His eyes were more interesting. “How old were you?”
“Six.”
My heart paused and my breath stilled in surprise. “Silas said you were the ... prodigy?”
Victor rolled his eyes. “Maybe when I was little. They like to tell you that when you’re eight and playing Mozart. They think it’s cute. I barely tolerate playing now.”
“It isn’t fun?” I asked.
“I hate performing in front of a crowd of people who aren’t even listening.” He dropped a palm on his neck, rubbing, staring back into the house. “The concerts are attended by people who want an excuse to get dressed up and get other people to gawk at them. And when I’m not playing, I’m expected to attend parties and participate in charity events and submit to interviews.”
“And you don’t like it.”
He shook his head, pursing his lips.
“Because you don’t like the attention.”
“There’s only a few people in this world I give a damn about what they think of me.” His eyes met mine, and the fire engulfed me. “You’re one.”
My cheeks radiated. “Can’t you quit? If you don’t like it, can’t you tell them you don’t want to do it anymore?”
“The Academy wants me to quit. They encourage giving it up if I’m not happy. We don’t always get to do what we want, but the Academy is built to work on your strengths and your passion. You don’t make it far if you don’t at least enjoy some of what you’re doing.” He shook his head. “But I’m willing to stay with it for now. My position makes me more useful. I endure it.”
I traced a fingertip along the rail’s edge. “But you like what you do for the Academy?”
“I love it.” His hand sought out my chin, tilting my face toward his. “I get to do things that matter, with people I care about. I used to hate playing piano a lot more. Now when I do, even though I don’t like it, knowing that some of what I do helps us, it makes a difference.”
“If it’s what you want.”
His eyes blazed. “I want to know what you want, too, even if I disagree. You don’t tell enough people what you’re thinking.”
“I try.”
“I know.” He swept his fingers across my cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me. I meant what I told you before. I’d do anything ... I’d give everything to get you to let me in.”
“Victor?” I sensed the conversation turning to something a little more personal than Academy and other matters.
“I’m not always the most patient person,” he said softly. His gaze slid from my eyes to my cheek, and down to my lips. “And with you, I can’t hold it together at all. I see those green eyes of yours and I want to know everything you’re thinking. You’re the puzzle I can’t figure out.”
I had nothing to say in reply. With the way he was looking at my mouth, I was afraid to say anything at all.
“What do you want, Princess?” Victor asked. He lowered his head, his eyes drifting up to meet mine. The fire blazed in his eyes. “Please...” he breathed, begging with such sincerity.
My heart was dying to respond to him with something, only there wasn’t anything I could think of. It was his eyes that seemed to steal my voice. I was desperate to answer him. I wanted to.
He pressed his fingers to my cheeks, and slid his thumb across, until it traced the corner of my mouth. “Let’s start with your birthday. Name something. Anything.”
His thumb near my lips sent waves through my body. It numbed my mind. It wasn’t unpleasant at all, but my mind didn’t want to focus. I forced out the truth. “I don’t want a ... thing.”
The thumb paused and an eyebrow arched. “I need to get you something.”
“Can’t we just do something? Together?”
/>
The thumb started again, tracing over half of my lower lip. “You mean a date?”
“Y...yeah,” I said, and suddenly I did know what I wanted. I wanted it all the time from them, I just didn’t know how to say it until now. “It doesn’t have to be a physical gift, right? I mean, I want you to show me things you love to do.”
“But this birthday is about you.”
“But I don’t know what I like,” I said, feeling sure about this. “I mean, I’ve been kind of limited for a while. I think I might like to try everything, and I don’t know where to start. Maybe you can show me what you like. Maybe I’ll like it, too.”
“You might not like it.”
“Maybe I’ll like it and maybe I won’t, but I’ll find out. We spend time together, but we’re always busy and working and hiding and running away. Let’s do things that aren’t trying to save someone.”
Victor dropped his thumb from my lips. He smiled, closed his eyes, tilting his head away. “I offer anything you want, and the only thing you can think of is you want to spend time with me, doing what I want.”
“Please?”
He turned back to me. The fire in his eyes unleashed into an inferno that could have swallowed me where I stood. His thumb returned to my mouth, this time touching both lips and at dead center, as if encouraging me to kiss his finger. “All you have to do is ask.” He tucked his head toward mine.
My heart raced. I’d seen this same look on Kota and North and some of the others. My instincts had told me before they had wanted to kiss me and I’d been wrong. I felt that same instinct again, more powerful than before.
His eyes half closed as he hovered over me. “I’d do anything for you, Princess.”
“Victor?” A woman’s voice called from within the office.
I jerked back from him, startled by the unfamiliar voice. Victor’s eyes widened with shock. He released me, swiveled around and stood protectively in front of me, blocking my view of whoever it was.
“What are you doing in here?” he called to her, his voice sharper than I’d heard it before. It was enough to make me flinch again.
“Don’t be so suspicious. I saw your car and you didn’t come to see me, so I came to check on you.” The voice was raspy, with an attempt at a dainty Southern accent, although it sounded forced. “Will you please show some manners and introduce me to your friend? We haven’t been properly introduced.”
Victor sighed loudly, as if breathing in the patience to deal with this. He stepped aside, revealing me behind him. “Mother, this is Sang Sorenson.”
With being out on the balcony, the natural sunlight made looking back into Victor’s office seem dark and foreboding. Even from my position, Victor’s mother was absolutely gorgeous. She had dark hair, twisted high on her head in a fashionable style that I’d seen in Gabriel’s magazines. Her lips were thick, and she held them in a seemingly constant pucker, revealing just a hint of her white teeth, as if ready for a photograph at any moment.
It was her eyes that struck me. Like Victor’s, they were fierce with a fire lit from within.
“Sorenson?” she asked, lifting a dark eyebrow. She crossed the room, her chunky high heels barely making a sound and she floated gracefully toward us. She held out a hand in offering. “I’m Mrs. Morgan. Are you and your parents new to town?”
I flicked a glance to Victor, who looked perturbed. I wasn’t sure how to respond. “My family and I moved in during the summer.” I offered my hand.
She squeezed it briefly, but sharply enough that it would have hurt if she’d done it a second longer. “Mr. Sanders usually keeps me informed when a Charleston house sells. Is your family the one renovating the home across the street? Or are you off the peninsula?”
“She doesn’t live in Charleston, Mother,” Victor said. He moved again, shifting so he was half blocking me this time. “You’ve been introduced. I’d invite you to stay, but we’re really busy.”
“Don’t be so impolite, Victor. I’ve taught you better than that.” She turned her attention back to me. “Are you attending the Academy?”
“She does not,” Victor said.
My eyes drifted between Victor and his mother, feeling the strange intensity between them. Their eyes challenged each other, hers with unspoken questions, his with demanding for her to leave. What was wrong with Victor? Was he unhappy I’d met her? Was he ashamed of me?
“How did you meet her? What do you know about her?”
“We just met,” Victor said. “I’m giving her a ride. I wanted to show her the view before we left.”
“Why don’t you invite her downstairs? You haven’t given her the tour.”
“I’m sorry. We’re very busy. We’ve got plans.”
“Oh,” she said. The question was in her eyes before she spoke. “So you are dating.”
“No. We just met. It’s a ... project for school. She doesn't attend but she’s helping me.”
I clamped my lips shut, shrinking behind Victor’s shoulder. Suddenly, I was ashamed to be standing there. Was this the same Victor who I’d felt was about to kiss me? Had I been wrong? It was like he wanted to shrug me off as an acquaintance to be forgotten.
“There’s no need to be so brisk,” Mrs. Morgan said. “You should invite her to dinner. I see Silas is here. Would he like to join us? Have you told anyone?”
My heart thundered. Told who? His father? Who else would care to know?
“I’d rather keep her out of circles, if you don’t mind.”
Alarm lit her eyes to a roar. “Why?” she asked with a tone suggesting she knew the answer, but was afraid to utter it.
“I’d rather not deliver a media kit to the press when she’ll only be here once or twice.”
“If you don’t, it rings of scandal.” She frowned. “Why don’t you let me talk to the publicist for you?”
“Please, don’t.”
His mother tilted her head, turning partially away. “Well, if it isn’t that serious, I guess I shouldn’t worry about it.”
Victor grunted under his breath. “I’ll give her the tour another day,” he said, sounding as if he wanted to give his mother something to satisfy her for now, since he didn’t want the publicist to talk to me. “Just not right now. We’ve got other things to do.”
“Oh, yes,” she said. She turned away, her eyes falling on the single clock on top of the desk. Her head tilted toward it, as if at first she wasn’t able to figure out what was wrong. “Victor? Did your clock break?” She picked it up, checking the face.
“It’s fine,” Victor said.
“I can have it fixed,” she said. She shook the clock. “I’ll call Muriel.”
“No,” Victor said sharply. He crossed the room, plucking the desk clock from her hands. “It’s fine how it is. I like it this way.”
“But it’s going backwards.”
“I want to keep it this way, Mother.” His hands cupped the clock as he held it against his chest. “I’m sorry. We are busy.”
She drifted to the door, opening it. “Of course. You were discussing her birthday.”
Apprehension seized through me. How long had she been listening?
“It was lovely to meet you, Miss Sorenson.”
I stepped beside Victor, peeling my lips apart to find my voice, soft and almost squeak free. “Thank you. It was nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Morgan.” I bowed my head slightly. I wasn’t sure what else to say. Should I compliment her clothes? Should I offer to talk to her publicist? If that’s all she wanted, I didn’t mind. It was Victor’s mother. He’d said his father told him horrible things, but I hadn’t heard anything about his mother. I wasn’t sure what to do.
Mrs. Morgan swept her eyes to her son, a sharp flame, before closing the door behind herself.
Victor let out a long breath, finding my hand and squeezing. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“About what?” I whispered. My mind had blanked out. I kept trying to recall the last few minutes and figure out at what possible t
ime she could have walked into the office and listened to us talking.
Victor turned his eyes on me. “I didn’t mean to make you sound unimportant. I’d rather her not know about how close we are yet.”
How close? Exactly how close were we? “Why not?” The wrong question slipped out first and I was stuck with it.
“I have to share you with the guys,” he said. “I don’t want to share you with the world.”
NEW PLANS
We joined Silas in the entertainment room. He was in one of the leather armchairs, watching a baseball game on the screen. He sat up in expectation as we entered.
“Are we friends now?” he asked. “Can we play again?”
“Yes, you big oaf,” Victor said. He nudged me ahead of him, directing me to sit in one of the chairs next to Silas and then took the one on the other side of me. “Now turn the game off. We’ve got work to do.”
“What are we doing?” Silas asked. He fished the remote from his lap and clicked the television off.
“I don’t know yet,” Victor said. He sat back in the chair. “But we can’t go back until we’ve got a lead on who it is.”
Silas huffed. “Are we sure it isn’t Greg?”
Victor frowned. “I doubt it. He’s not that smart.”
“I think we should turn the phones back on again,” I said.
Silas arched a thick, dark eyebrow. “What?”
“Well,” I said, unsure of how to ask this. They’d rejected my other idea. It made me nervous to suggest something else. “Maybe we can’t lure him out by walking around school, but we might be able to get more of those messages. Then we can possibly learn more about what he wants and what’s going on if we just see what he sends. And if we can reply back somehow and provoke him, maybe it’ll reveal more about who he is if he responds. Or he’ll slip up or something.”
Victor and Silas stared at me, mouths hanging open. They turned to look at each other. Since they had to do it over my head, I started twisting my head back and forth to try to catch their speechless communication.
“She’s got a point,” Silas said. “We turned it off because of the GPS. Can we turn those off but leave the reception signal?”
