We parked at the clinic’s private lot. I turned to him and put my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll manage somehow, and I promise I’ll do everything in my power to help you. With the doctors’ help, he’ll be back home in no time.” My words sounded too reassuring, but at least one of us had to think positively. I wanted to inspire some hope in him even though I didn’t know much about Oliver’s actual mental and physical state. What if he was really poorly?
Alexander sighed and the corners of his mouth twisted into a barely noticeable smile of relief. He took my hand and kissed it. His pleasant touch spread a surge of warmth across my body.
“I’m glad you’re here with me, trying to support me and give me strength. I should’ve told you about him earlier. Let’s go. He’s probably expecting us already.”
* * *
Oliver was staying in a small, but very cozy suite. Alexander had taken care of everything. In the lounge, there was a sofa, armchairs, and a plasma TV, next to which sat an Xbox games console. On the shelves, there was an enviable collection of well-chosen books, Blu-rays, DVDs and music CDs.
We found Oliver lying on the blue sofa. He was only twenty years old but seemed older due to his seen-too-much appearance. The dark rings around his eyes and his pale, yellowish skin betrayed his poor health.
He glanced at us and, on seeing me, scowled.
Alexander greeted him, forcing himself to smile. “Won’t you get up and show some good manners by introducing yourself to my girlfriend?” He tried to scold Oliver, but his voice was soft.
His brother stood up, embraced him warmly and then unwillingly held out his hand to me. I shook it and almost shivered from the coldness of his palm. I’d never touched a man whose hands were so bone-chillingly cold.
“I’ll get us some coffee and be right back,” Alexander informed him and exited the room.
Hmm, did he leave us alone on purpose?
Oliver quickly went over to the window, turning his back on me. I could see he wasn’t happy about meeting me. I didn’t hold that against him—I would’ve felt the same way if I were in his place. The photos of Daniel and me published in the tabloids made it look like he and I had a sexual relationship. They showed me snuggled up to him and him comforting me. Simply awful! Anyone who was unaware of the true nature of our relationship would draw the wrong conclusion.
I stood next to Oliver, determined to kick-start a conversation with him. “I know it must be hard for you to believe me. But I really do love Alexander.”
He didn’t ever bother to look at me, but only said, “And because of your love for my brother, you hugged that playboy?” His voice was full of bile. It demonstrated his pain and the loathing he currently felt for me.
Right then, I told myself I deserved this kind of treatment. I shouldn’t have let Daniel hug me, especially in such a public place, but at the time, I’d been feeling so crushed I hadn’t even considered the potential consequences. And now I was the only guilty party, rather than that damn snake in human form—Vanessa.
“You’re clearly with my brother just for his money,” continued Oliver.
“No! You’re dead wrong. I don’t know how to explain the situation to you. Nobody likes it when their boyfriend runs off to some other woman at the drop of a hat. And Vanessa… She simply won’t leave him alone.” I sighed.
“Vanessa?” He turned to me, his brown eyes piercing me. He and his brother certainly had one thing in common—the iciest stares I’d ever seen.
“Perhaps it’d be better if you asked your brother about what exactly happened…”
“But he never tells me anything. And he doesn’t have to. Vanessa is besotted with him,” he said, stressing the word ‘besotted’ and sighing sadly. “And which woman isn’t?” he continued and turned back to the window.
He stood there, as still as a statue, the corners of his mouth turned down, like some sullen kid. At that moment, he looked his age.
“Oliver, I want you to understand that Daniel and I are only friends. I’d never cheat on your brother.”
Initially, Oliver didn’t say anything, but only gazed ahead at some point in space, blinking intermittently. I followed his gaze but couldn’t tell what he was staring at. I intertwined my fingers, wondering how to resume the conversation.
He suddenly said, “I’m sorry for the phone call, Alexia. I truly am. Your relationship is none of my business. I shouldn’t have meddled.”
His conciliatory tone surprised me.
“You really do mean a lot to Alexander,” he whispered and crossed his arms in front of his chest, continuing to gaze through the window.
“The same goes for you. He’s concerned about you, Oliver,” I said quietly.
Oliver frowned again. “I doubt he cares more about me than his business.”
“Don’t say things like that. Alexander works round the clock and supports your entire family. He provides you with everything you need.” Why couldn’t he understand this?
I looked around and my eyes stopped on a beautiful acoustic guitar, resting on Oliver’s bed. “Wow, that’s a nice guitar.”
“It’s a Martin OM-28 Authentic,” he declared proudly.
I gasped, knowing that Christian Friedrich Martin guitars are quite expensive due to their unique sound.
“Alexander gave it to me as a present. It’s incredible,” he added, a slight smile emerging on his face.
He said the words with such satisfaction that everything immediately clicked into place—to him, his brother was a great guy because he spoiled him with expensive gifts and a bad guy for spending so much time on his work. As if money grew on trees, rather than having to work hard for it.
On the one hand, I understood his attitude as he’d never had to work and earn a living, but on the other hand, his attitude was very spoiled and selfish. My father had also catered to my every whim while I’d been living with him and after that too. Even so, I’d always tried not to take advantage of his money and understand their true worth. However, Oliver and I came from two different worlds.
“May I take a closer look at it?” I asked and he nonchalantly waved his hand, indicating I could go into his bedroom.
I picked up the guitar and slid my fingers across the smooth surface. The workmanship was perfect. Its back and side were a reddish brown and its front was beige with a yellowish hue.
“Will you play something for me?”
“No,” he replied bluntly and withdrew back into his shell.
“As you wish, I’m not going to force you.” I peered at him surreptitiously and saw he was scowling again.
I decided to switch strategies—I’d tell him something about me in the hope he’d share something about himself in return.
“When I was little, my mother taught me how to play the violin. My fascination with that instrument lasted four years and then I fell in love with the piano.” I wanted him to understand we both shared a strong love for music. I was trying to do whatever it took to make him comfortable and relaxed. I wanted to get to know him, but this was turning out to be impossible, as he kept stonewalling me.
“Why did you quit the violin? Didn’t you like it?” he asked, sounding interested. A relieved smile appeared on my face.
“My mother died and I couldn’t bring myself to continue… The violin brought up too many painful memories. Whenever I picked it up, I saw her standing next to me, showing me how to play, teaching me…” My eyes welled up with tears, but I managed to suppress them.
“Life is unpredictable and sometimes far from easy. As a little girl, I dreamed of becoming a famous violinist like my mother, and perhaps I would’ve succeeded if I hadn’t stopped playing, if I hadn’t been so weak. I can’t turn back time, and it’s too late now.”
Oliver stood very close to me, too close. We were no more than two-three inches apart. I noticed he was almost as tall as Alexander. My nose sensed the pleasant scent of men’s shower gel. I was surprised by his proximity, because up until this poi
nt, he’d even avoided my eyes.
“Music is mysterious and magical. It relaxes and charges me with positive energy,” he shared with me. His voice was quiet and calm. The annoyed tone he’d used so far was gone.
I was gladdened by his willingness to talk and decided to take advantage of the opportunity. “Don’t you dream of writing a nice song?”
“Yes, I want to, but I’m not sure if I have the talent for it,” he replied, his eyes agleam. “Here in the clinic, I have more than enough time for creative experiments. Sometimes more than I actually need,” he said sardonically. He fell silent and became pensive. I got the impression he was torn about something.
After a brief pause, he spun on his heels, went to his desk and started rooting through one of the drawers. I had no idea what he was looking for. In the end, he stopped sifting, turned to me and passed me a sheet of music notation. “Since you can read music, tell me whether this is any good. Please be honest.”
I took the sheet from his hand and hummed the notes he’d written in my head.
“I like it—it’s sad, but nice.” I was completely honest. “Are there lyrics to go with the music?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure about them. I’m thinking of rewriting the words,” he said and I realized he was embarrassed. I guessed he wasn’t very comfortable with letting me read the lyrics.
“It’s a love song, right?” I asked and Oliver nodded slightly in reply. It seemed to me that his pale cheeks reddened, though I might have been mistaken. I bit my lips to stop myself from smiling, sensing a mysterious girl was his most likely inspiration.
He couldn’t look me in the eye.
“Actually, if you’re interested, you may read it.” He went back to his desk and took out a notebook. I took it from his hands and started to read the lyrics.
Raindrops falling on my face
I see your silhouette. I see it faint.
My soul cries, I feel lost
Like I was not a human, but some ghost
Why are you leaving me my love?
Did you forget my feelings and powerful love?
Please at least stay tonight with me.
Let me hold you. Baby stay with me.
I want to be with you and share your happiness.
I want to be with you and relieve your sadness.
My heart bleeds, I feel pain
My tears washed away by the rain.
Why are you leaving me my love?
Did you forget my feelings and powerful love?
Please at least stay tonight with me.
Let me hold you. Baby stay with me.
The pain has left deep scars on my heart
I love you madly, but you don’t love me back
Why did I let myself fall in love with you?
I can’t imagine a life without you.
Why are you leaving me my love?
Did you forget my feelings and powerful love?
Please at least stay tonight with me.
Let me hold you. Baby stay with me.
I want to touch your angelic blonde hair.
And at your wonderful blue eyes to stare.
Let me kiss your lips so soft and fine.
And enjoy your scent divine.
Why are you leaving me my love?
Did you forget my feelings and powerful love?
Please at least stay tonight with me.
Let me hold you. Baby stay with me.
“The lyrics are amazing. Does the girl whom you wrote them about know of this?” I asked and looked up toward him, trying to read the truth in his face.
Oliver blushed like a tomato and didn’t try to deceive me. “How did you guess about… the girl?”
I smiled, amused by how easily he blushed. Still, he seemed healthier when he did. Leaving aside his ashen skin, Oliver was a very good-looking young man. He was tall, broad-shouldered and had brown eyes that sparkled like a smoky quartz. He had an incredible charming smile and lips that without a doubt, many young girls secretly dreamed of kissing. Alas, despite his handsomeness, some beautiful girl had broken his heart or he wouldn’t have written such a sad song.
“Female intuition,” I said, shrugging. “If she only knew what a beautiful song you’ve dedicated to her, she’d be really flattered.”
He shook his head in disagreement. “She’s not interested in music and is into more mature men.” Putting his hands in his jeans’ pockets, he sighed wistfully. “I don’t know what made me share all this with you.” His tired eyes stared into mine, full of hope. “Please be honest—did you really like the song? I want you to completely candid with me.”
“It’s wonderful, Oliver. Believe me, I’m not saying it just to be polite.” Right then, an idea popped into my head. “It’d be really cool if you played the song for me, and if you want, we can sing it together.”
He stared at me for a long time but agreed in the end. “Okay. I’ll be on the guitar and you can play the piano.” He smiled, pointing at an electronic keyboard behind me, which I hadn’t even noticed.
Suddenly, I felt excited, because I hadn’t touched my piano in Boston for nearly a year. When I went home, I played until my fingers cramped. I didn’t know why but doing that relaxed me and distracted me from reality, letting my mind wonder and dream. And in my dreams, I soared high in the sky like a bird and the load on my soul became lighter and lighter from the music.
“Why are you just standing there?” Oliver asked, jolting me out of my reminiscence. “Come on. Let’s begin.” He sounded very enthusiastic, that made me very happy.
“Sure, but won’t we disturb the other residents?”
“No, the suite has extremely good noise insulation. My brother has taken care of that. Don’t worry. We won’t disturb anyone.”
I sat at the piano and he picked up the guitar. We played the instrumental version of the song twice and then started singing together.
Oliver had a lovely, deep voice. After we finished, I asked myself whether he’d become a famous musician one day. He had what it took, but then again who was I to make that kind of judgment? On the other hand, why not give it a go. It wouldn’t hurt to try—there were only upsides. And his song was really catchy.
“Wow, I think I just fell in love with this song.” I clapped my hands in excitement. “It’s a great tune.”
Oliver grinned, leaned toward me and happily put his arms around my shoulders. He was even more excited than me. Just then, someone behind us cleared their throat. We both turned toward the door and saw Alexander standing there, holding three coffees in his hands. Next to him stood a woman dressed in white scrubs. She was probably one of the clinic’s doctors or nurses. We’d become so engrossed in the music that we hadn’t even noticed we had an audience.
Oliver went with her to the laboratory for some blood tests, leaving Alexander and me by ourselves. The prince of my dreams couldn’t take his eyes away from me.
2
“What is it?” I asked.
“My brother likes you,” he replied.
Hmm, you should’ve seen how sullen he was in the beginning. He didn’t want to talk, but in the end, he sang and played together with me. I’d certainly made substantial progress in the short time Alexander was away.
“I dare say—a deep bond is developing between us,” I said, adding, “And it’s based on our love for music.”
“I take it that means you like him too?” He tilted his head in expectation of my answer.
I stood up from the chair and went over to him.
“Of course. Especially after I realized you two had something in common.” I put my arms around his waist. “Which is that you’re both sensitive even though you don’t want to admit it. You retreat inside yourselves and…”
“But you always find a way to unlock the door to our feelings,” he interrupted.
“Well, I have hidden talents too,” I bragged and stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.
I could easily gain people’s trust.
; But Alexander didn’t want to trust you at first, my know-it-all subconscious tried to remind me. I would’ve given it a good kicking if I could.
Still, I knew it was right, but didn’t want to think about that. I focused my thoughts back on Oliver. “I don’t understand how he ended up resorting to drugs. I truly hope his music will help him escape them for good and lead a clean life, keeping his dreams alive. Songwriting gives him wings and inspires hope in him.”
Alexander considered my words and faint lines formed on his forehead. “He’s never let me hear his music, but somehow you managed to get under his skin.”
I put my arms around his neck. “I believe your brother’s talented.”
“You really think so?” He leaned in and gently placed his lips on my cheekbone.
“Yes, and I was wondering… You’re a really influential man and you know many producers and musicians…”
“Where’re you going with this?” he interrupted, narrowing his eyes.
“Why don’t you get him in touch with some music producer? We’ll be able to hear his professional opinion on Oliver’s talent. He might manage to motivate him and…”
“You want to help him put his life back on the right track?”
I smiled. “Yes, something like that.”
“You know, honey, sometimes you have truly great ideas.” He leaned in and planted a quick peck on my cheek.
“Sometimes?” I tried to scowl, but it didn’t work.
“Oh, fine… All the time,” he said, smiling. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and took out his cell. He dialed some number and waited. “Bertillon? It’s Kraftberg. Can you spare an hour for me tomorrow… At ten? Perfect… Fine then, see you tomorrow.” He smiled widely. “I’m glad too.”
He put the iPhone back in his pocket and stated, “Tomorrow at ten we have an appointment with Alain Bertillon at his recording studio in Geneva. He’ll give us his opinion.”
I gasped in surprise and happily clapped my hands. Alain Bertillon was famous as one of the best music producers in Europe. And of course Alexander knew him. I don’t know why I was surprised about that.
Beautiful Devil: The Rockstar Duet Book 2 Page 14
