in motion, but then Scarlet struck a piano key and started to sing.
Simon and Garfunkel’s
Sounds of Silence
came to life like he’d never heard it.
Her voice haunted as she closed her eyes and gave herself over to it. That sexy rasp he loved scraped against the lyrics, making her bleed the words. The sound was equally beautiful and broken.
“Wow,” he whispered to himself.
“You really don’t know who she is?” Lana turned to look at him.
He shook his head.
“Daniel and Scarlet.” Lana leaned close as she whispered. “The darlings of the blues. No one ever really understood why they didn’t go international. They were good enough.”
Daniel.
He’d heard the name before. A few days ago, he’d wandered into one of the spare bedrooms by mistake. Scarlet had caught his hand and dragged him out, saying it had been Daniel’s room. He’d just glanced at a picture of a man and Scarlet when she’d shut the door. He recognized a mausoleum when he saw one.
Curious why the man had lived with them.
Scarlet looked up from the piano keys, her gaze sweeping across the room to Killian. For a moment, no one existed as she sang to him, poured herself into the music. The man placed his hand over his heart.
A momentary key rang out of place as she broke away, looking past her husband to Jerricho. The music flowed smoothly again.
Now she sang for him.
Pulled him into the intimate serenade that was as beautiful as it was dangerous.
He could fall into that sound.
Fall into the woman.
Even though he didn’t break eye contact with her, he could feel the weight of stares as other guests stole glances at him.
The music stopped, the following silence rang loud.
Killian’s gaze briefly met his, and this time, it was unreadable.
Next to him, Lana gasped, but the sharp intake was swallowed as the table roused from Scarlet’s spell and began to clap. The world returned to normal. Marcus stood up and playfully blasted a shrill whistle with his fingers between his lips.
Scarlet laughed as she shooed away the accolades with her hand. Still, her eyes shone bright and a flush colored her cheeks. She glowed like a woman vindicated.
He relaxed back in his chair, smiling. Crisis averted.
“Well done.” Lana clapped. “Well. Done.” The sound rang out as the other voices died. Something felt off. Still clapping, Lana turned to look at Jerricho before facing Scarlet again. “Well, well. It seems he certainly knows how to loosen your tonsils.”
The gasp he’d heard—Lana had connected the dots.
Scarlet stopped dead a few feet from returning to the table.
Lana seemed unperturbed. “You’re fucking him aren’t you, Scarlet?”
Scarlet’s hands fisted, knuckles turning white.
There was no time to respond as Lana reeled on Killian. “You hired him?” She mimed the quotation marks even as she sneered. “How nice, Killian. You got Scarlet an exotic this time.”
“Manners, Lana.”
Jerricho was sure no one had missed the veiled warning in Killian’s restrained tone.
No one, except Lana.
“My manners? Oh, Jesus, that’s rich.” She laughed bitterly. “You want to talk about decorum? How about having fucking decorum for Daniel?” Her chair scraped and tumbled over backward as she stood to lean over Killian. “Are his sheets even cold?”
Killian’s driver, Joel, came into the room, but Killian raised his hand and shook his head.
“I loved him …
loved
him. And he chose you.” She sounded hysterical as her gaze darted between Killian and Scarlet. “He didn’t even tell me he was sick.” Her voice cracked. “I told him to come to Europe with me. I told him—”
“Lana—” Scarlet’s voice was low, gentling.
“What, you mourned him for a year?” She made a sobbing noise and shook her head. “Sometimes I can’t get out of bed … when … when I think of him, I can’t even breathe. But look at how the two of you have moved on.” Anger and hurt were written on her face. “Tell me,
Simon and Garfunkel’s
Sounds of Silence
came to life like he’d never heard it.
Her voice haunted as she closed her eyes and gave herself over to it. That sexy rasp he loved scraped against the lyrics, making her bleed the words. The sound was equally beautiful and broken.
“Wow,” he whispered to himself.
“You really don’t know who she is?” Lana turned to look at him.
He shook his head.
“Daniel and Scarlet.” Lana leaned close as she whispered. “The darlings of the blues. No one ever really understood why they didn’t go international. They were good enough.”
Daniel.
He’d heard the name before. A few days ago, he’d wandered into one of the spare bedrooms by mistake. Scarlet had caught his hand and dragged him out, saying it had been Daniel’s room. He’d just glanced at a picture of a man and Scarlet when she’d shut the door. He recognized a mausoleum when he saw one.
Curious why the man had lived with them.
Scarlet looked up from the piano keys, her gaze sweeping across the room to Killian. For a moment, no one existed as she sang to him, poured herself into the music. The man placed his hand over his heart.
A momentary key rang out of place as she broke away, looking past her husband to Jerricho. The music flowed smoothly again.
Now she sang for him.
Pulled him into the intimate serenade that was as beautiful as it was dangerous.
He could fall into that sound.
Fall into the woman.
Even though he didn’t break eye contact with her, he could feel the weight of stares as other guests stole glances at him.
The music stopped, the following silence rang loud.
Killian’s gaze briefly met his, and this time, it was unreadable.
Next to him, Lana gasped, but the sharp intake was swallowed as the table roused from Scarlet’s spell and began to clap. The world returned to normal. Marcus stood up and playfully blasted a shrill whistle with his fingers between his lips.
Scarlet laughed as she shooed away the accolades with her hand. Still, her eyes shone bright and a flush colored her cheeks. She glowed like a woman vindicated.
He relaxed back in his chair, smiling. Crisis averted.
“Well done.” Lana clapped. “Well. Done.” The sound rang out as the other voices died. Something felt off. Still clapping, Lana turned to look at Jerricho before facing Scarlet again. “Well, well. It seems he certainly knows how to loosen your tonsils.”
The gasp he’d heard—Lana had connected the dots.
Scarlet stopped dead a few feet from returning to the table.
Lana seemed unperturbed. “You’re fucking him aren’t you, Scarlet?”
Scarlet’s hands fisted, knuckles turning white.
There was no time to respond as Lana reeled on Killian. “You hired him?” She mimed the quotation marks even as she sneered. “How nice, Killian. You got Scarlet an exotic this time.”
“Manners, Lana.”
Jerricho was sure no one had missed the veiled warning in Killian’s restrained tone.
No one, except Lana.
“My manners? Oh, Jesus, that’s rich.” She laughed bitterly. “You want to talk about decorum? How about having fucking decorum for Daniel?” Her chair scraped and tumbled over backward as she stood to lean over Killian. “Are his sheets even cold?”
Killian’s driver, Joel, came into the room, but Killian raised his hand and shook his head.
“I loved him …
loved
him. And he chose you.” She sounded hysterical as her gaze darted between Killian and Scarlet. “He didn’t even tell me he was sick.” Her voice cracked. “I told him to come to Europe with me. I told him—”
“Lana—” Scarlet’s voice was low, gentling.
“What, you mourned him for a year?” She made a sobbing noise and shook her head. “Sometimes I can’t get out of bed … when … when I think of him, I can’t even breathe. But look at how the two of you have moved on.” Anger and hurt were written on her face. “Tell me,
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