The Shy Bride

by Lucy Monroe

“Why present the opportunity at all?”

  “Because as much as I prefer a quiet life, one without any new people in it at all can get lonely. And I don’t want to be that person. The woman who lives her life as a hermit.” Even though in many ways that was exactly what she did.

  “Were you disappointed to discover your lessons had been bought by a novice?”

  “No, more nervous. Terrified really.” She gave him a self-deprecating smile. “I was so dismayed, I begged my manager to get me out of it.”

  “He did not approach Zephyr, or myself to cancel the lessons.”

  “No.”

  Neo’s eyes narrowed, but she wasn’t sure what was making him look less than pleased. “Why were you so frightened? Even with your condition, you had done this before.”

  “Not for a successful billionaire.”

  “I am just like any other man.”

  It was her turn to frown, unhappy with his false assertion. “For a man who appreciates a lack of deception in others, that lie slid off your tongue rather easily. No way do you believe you are like every other man.”

  That almost smile touched his features again. “You are more observant than even I gave you credit for being.”

  “You aren’t self-delusional and you aren’t like any other man, therefore you could not believe it.”

  He shrugged. “Few men have the single-minded determination to achieve what Zephyr and I have done.”

  “And now Zephyr is worried you’re too single-minded?”

  “I made the mistake of sharing some concerns my doctor voiced on my last physical. Gregor, who is Zephyr’s friend as well as my doctor, reiterated those concerns to him.”

  “The concerns shocked you, didn’t they?” she asked, certain she knew the answer and a little surprised at herself for being willing to banter like this.

  “How do you know that?”

  “You strike me as a man who keeps himself in optimum physical condition as part of maintaining your position at the zenith of personal success. It would astound you that there was some element you had not accounted for.”

  “I thought you were a pianist, not a psychiatrist.”

  This, at least, she could explain. “It is easier to watch other people than to interact with them. It naturally follows that someone with my curiosity would try to figure out what makes them tick.”

  “You are uncannily accurate.”

  “Thank you for admitting it. I like honesty, too.”

  “That is something important we have in common.”

  She shifted beside him on the piano bench, trying to ignore the instant and growing reaction she’d had to his nearness since the first lesson.

  “Yes. The other thing is that we both want you to learn piano. Let’s get back to it.”

  Cass had no frame of reference for her response to Neo.

  Which was probably why, at twenty-nine she had absolutely no experience in the bedroom. She’d had no time for dating when she was doing concert tours and she’d been doing them since childhood. After stopping public performance, she did not put herself in situations she might meet potential dates. All of which left her in the unenviable situation of being twenty-nine years old and never having been kissed with romantic intent.

  And certainly she had never—not once before meeting Neo Stamos—felt this constriction deep in her belly. She’d read about arousal, but never experienced it. Which she knew made her a freak in the eyes of most of the world. But she wasn’t just a virgin, she was wholly innocent and unsure how or if she ever wanted to risk changing that state.

  When her nipples tightened into almost painful points, she had to bite her lip to keep a gasp from slipping past her lips. And this happened each and every time she sat beside Neo on the piano bench. Sometimes, even without him being there. The memory of their one hour together a week was enough to bring forth her first taste of physical passion.

  Alien excitement thrummed through her now, making her thighs quiver and her heart rate increase beyond what even anxiety at meeting a new person produced.

  This would never do. She had to get hold of her reactions before she made an absolute fool of herself, but so far telling herself that truth did nothing to diminish this…this…this ardor she felt for her student.

  She tried to do what she had always done when life got too uncomfortable—concentrate on her music. It didn’t always work. Nevertheless, fitting her fingers over the keys, she forced herself to show Neo the newest pattern she wanted him to learn.

  “The sound of you playing on this instrument is phenomenal.” Neo’s deep, approving tones exacerbated each one of the reactions sparking through her.

  Cass suppressed a telling shiver. “You should hear it really played.”

  “One day, perhaps I will.”

  “Perhaps.” Though an invitation to sit in the only chair in the room and listen to her play was one she offered so rarely, even her pushy manager had stopped asking her to make exceptions. “Now you try it.”

  He stumbled at first, until she laid her fingers over his and led him through it. Which was disastrous for her equilibrium, but pretty efficient in terms of teaching him finger position. By the time his watch alarm went off, he was doing a passable job and she was a quivering mass of nerves hiding beneath her master pianist exterior.

  Not so very different from the days when she performed live.

  “There are exercises you can do to make your fingers more limber,” she told him without looking up. “I suppose suggesting you practice between lessons would be a waste of my breath.”

  He shrugged. “I am enjoying myself more than I expected to.”

  “I’m glad.” She smiled. “Music is a balm for your soul.”

  “It can be.”

  They shared a moment of silent agreement.

  He got up from the bench and took a quick glance at his watch with one efficient move of his wrist. “I make no promises about how much practicing I will do, but I will have a piano delivered to my penthouse. My personal assistant will call you for a recommendation.”

  Neo’s personal assistant called, but it wasn’t to ask for a purchasing recommendation. It was to cancel Neo’s next lesson. He would be out of Seattle the following week.

  “Please do not mention this to anyone. Mr. Stamos’s whereabouts could cause speculation that might adversely affect his current business negotiations.” The woman’s tone made it clear that if it had been left up to her, she would have cancelled the meeting without giving an explanation.

  Apparently, Neo had felt otherwise. That knowledge made Cass smile, though she promised to be circumspect in perfectly somber tones.

  Unfortunately for her, the fact that Neo was out of the city had not made it to the attention of the media, but his weekly visits to her home had.

  She woke up Tuesday morning to the sound of car doors slamming and people talking in strident tones outside her home. She rushed to the bedroom that overlooked the street and peeked out through the privacy curtain.

  Three media vans and a couple of cars were parked in front of her home. Someone rang the doorbell even as her eyes took in the spectacle before her.

  The doorbell continued to ring as she rushed back to her bedroom to dress. She would just ignore them. She didn’t have to answer. She wasn’t a public person any longer. The media had no call on her time or her person.

  Nevertheless, she skipped her morning shower and pulled her clothes on with haste. Someone banged on the French doors to her bedroom and Cass screamed. Her brain told her it was nothing more than an enterprising reporter who had climbed up to the deck off her bedroom, but familiar panic threatened to immobilize her.

  She grabbed the phone off her nightstand and dialed her manager. When she told Bob in short staccato bursts what was going on, he told her to calm down. That this kind of media attention was good for CD sales.

  Cass didn’t bother to argue. She was trying too hard not to heave from the stress. She hung up and dialed Neo’s offic

e, each insistent pound on the glass doors leading to her bedroom making her body flinch.

  Her call went to voice mail and she couldn’t remember what she said in the message, just that she left one.

  She went into the bathroom, shut the door, locked it and prayed for the media to leave.

  She was still there, curled up in a ball between the old-fashioned clawfoot tub and the wall, when someone knocked on the bathroom door itself. “Cassandra! Are you in there? Open the door, pethi mou. It is Neo.”

  Neo was out of the city. His personal assistant had said so. She shook her head at the door, another layer of perspiration coming over her already clammy skin.

  The knob rattled. “Cassandra, open the door.”

  The voice sounded like Neo, but she could not accept that he was there. She hated being like this. Didn’t want anyone else to know how bad it got, but the rational part of her mind told her to open the door.

  The next knock was almost gentle and so was Neo’s tone. “Please, little one, open the door.”

  She forced cramped muscles to work and stood. “I’m…I’m coming,” she croaked.

  He said something forceful in Greek and then, “Good. Thank you. Open the door.”

  She reached out and unlocked the door, then pulled it open.

  The man standing there did not look like Neo’s usual imperturbable self. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket and his expression was nothing less than grim.

  She wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “I…they…someone leaked your Tuesday lessons to the media.”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought they might come inside.”

  “It is a good thing they did not.”

  She nodded, in total agreement.

  “You look like you could use a hot shower. I will make you some tea.”

  “I…yes, that’s a good idea.” She looked around herself at the bathroom, at Neo, and her gaze skimmed the mirror then went screeching back to it.

  She looked like a wreck. She hadn’t brushed her hair since waking, her eyes looked haunted, her skin was pale and there were perspiration stains on her shirt. She needed more than a shower. She needed a complete transformation.

  But she would have to settle for copious amounts of hot water and the promise of tea.

  “Are you all right to be left alone?” Neo asked.

  “Yes.” Absolutely mortified by her own behavior, she wouldn’t have asked him to stay even if it meant losing her piano.

  She didn’t wonder how he’d gotten into the house until after a twenty-minute shower under very hot water. Mulling the question over, she dried her hair as best she could with a towel. She wasn’t going to get an answer until she went downstairs, so she donned fresh clothes and made her way to the kitchen.

  Neo was waiting for her in the otherwise empty room. He indicated a mug of still steaming tea on the table. “Drink up.”

  She sat down and took a sip, almost choking on the sweetness. “How much sugar did you use?”

  “Enough.”

  “For a sugaraholic maybe.”

  “Sweet tea is good for shock.”

  “You say that like you know.”

  “I called my PA, had her look it up.”

  Cass laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I bet she enjoyed that.”

  Neo shrugged.

  “How did you get in the house?” she asked.

  “Bob let me in.”

  “He has a key.”

  “Apparently.”

  “I remember him coming,” she admitted. She’d refused to answer when Bob knocked on the bathroom door, sure her manager would try to talk her into giving interviews.

  “Only one media van remained when I arrived.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You left a message on my voice mail.”

  “I thought you were out of the city.”

  “I was.”

  He’d come back. To help her? She had a hard time believing that, but she was glad he was there anyway. She glanced at the clock on the microwave and realized it was already early evening.

  She’d spent more than eight hours in her bathroom. No wonder she’d been so cramped when she’d finally stood up. “I feel like an idiot.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “You are no idiot.”

  She made a sound of disagreement and took another sip of the overly sweet tea.

  He sat down across from her. “You have debilitating anxiety related to performing in public.”

  “Yes, but no one was asking me to perform today.”

  “Weren’t they? Isn’t that what the paparazzi do every time they insert themselves into our lives? They demand we perform for them and their audience with a prurient interest in the latest gossip.”

  “Do you think Bob leaked word of your lessons to the media?” Although she couldn’t imagine the furor of this morning caused by piano lessons.

  Neo grabbed a tabloid from the counter behind him and placed it in front of her on the table. It had a picture taken through a telephoto lens of Neo entering her house. “They think you’re something far more interesting than my piano teacher. They believe you are my latest lover.”

  She shuddered, not at the thought of being his lover, but at the prospect of being hounded by the media because of the mistaken impression.

  “The fact that I kept our relationship secret has given rise to wild speculation and the discovery of your identity only intensified interest.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing you cancelled your lesson for today, or you might have walked right into it all.”

  He shook his head. “I apologize for what happened. My press manager has released details of the lessons, but I’m afraid at this point there has already been so much conjecture, interest may take some time to wane.”

  “It’s all right. I overreacted.”

  “Most people would be overwhelmed by a pack of paparazzi on their front step.”

  “And my back deck.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Someone climbed the deck and tried to get me to open the French doors to my bedroom.”

  Fury suffused Neo’s features. “That is unacceptable.”

  “I agree. It was really frightening.” But the worst part was that she no longer knew what was normal fear, and what was the result of her abnormal phobia of crowds and public performance.

  “That is understandable.”

  “I don’t suppose you want a lesson as long as you are here.”

  He smiled. “Perhaps, after you have eaten.”

  Her stomach growled, right then, reminding her that she had not put anything in it since last night. “I’ll just have some toast.”

  But that was unacceptable. He insisted on having one of his bodyguards deliver take-out. When the meal arrived, she surprised herself by being able to eat.

  “Your manager wanted to stay and talk to you, but I insisted he leave,” Neo said as they were finishing up.

  “Thank you. He probably wanted me to do an interview.”

  “I got that impression.” And Neo did not appear impressed by it.

  “He told me the publicity would help CD sales.”

  “When?”

  “I called him, before calling your office.” She took a sip of the wine that had arrived with the meal. “I’m not sure why I called your office, now that I think about it. I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally.”

  “I am glad you did. Clearly I am the reason for the problem. I should effect the solution.”

  “I think, Neo Stamos, that you are a good man.”

  He looked absolutely stunned by her words, but quickly masked his shock. “I take that as a compliment.”

  “I meant it as one.”

  They didn’t end up having a lesson that evening, but Neo stayed until nine, when the wine and the release of adrenaline caught up with Cass and she began yawning every other minute.

  “You need your rest.”

  “I do.” She laughed softly. “I’m exhausted, though I shouldn’t be.”

  “Of course you should. Sleep.”

  “I will.”

  She thought he was going to kiss her when she let him out the front door, but he only squeezed her shoulder and told her again to get some rest.

  She shook her head at her own foolishness. Why would a man like Neo Stamos want to kiss her? Cass wasn’t in his league in any shape or form. And then there were her “issues.”

  She wasn’t housebound. She could buy food on her own without getting overly stressed as long as she went to the local grocer she’d been going to since she was a child. Although she did most of her other shopping online, she could go to familiar department stores, if she really needed to. She had overcome most of her anxiety related to recording at the studio, so long as the technicians and music producer did not change. And her manager didn’t bring anyone in to watch her record.

  Bob had stopped doing that after the last time she’d simply refused to play and gone home.

  But today proved that she wasn’t approaching normal, either. Her agoraphobia was mostly limited to performing, but the prospect of having strangers in her home, her sanctuary, always engendered deep anxiety in her. The barrage of media outside her home had brought back debilitating memories.

  She had no idea how long she would have remained in her en suite bathroom if Neo had not shown up. Certainly, knowing Bob was there earlier had only increased her stress levels, knowing as she did how he would want to capitalize on the situation.

  She really didn’t understand why Neo’s presence had made such a difference, but she was unutterably grateful it had.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE following morning, Cass was working on a piece she planned to cut onto her next CD when the doorbell rang. She ignored it. There had been no media vans outside her home this morning and Neo had released a statement that should set most wagging tongues at rest. But that didn’t mean an enterprising reporter would not come back looking for a quote from “the recluse pianist.”

  Even after learning the truth, there would be some who insisted on believing the billionaire and Cass had some sort of relationship. After all, that made better news copy than the fact he was taking piano lessons.

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