Our fingers brushed when he took it from me. I never noticed hands as a little girl, but as a twenty year old woman…

Herr Vogel has beautiful hands.

“I work long hours.” Herr Vogel does not turn his head as he speaks, instead addressing the empty hallway in front of us. Doors slip past on either side, and still we keep walking, steps sinking into the dark green rug. “My work must not be disturbed. Do you understand?”

God, why do these men keep asking me that? Do they truly think it’s so complicated? Maybe I don’t want to be disturbed either.

I purse my lips. “I understand.”

“However long you plan to stay here—”

“Three weeks, I believe.”

He shrugs one shoulder, as if it doesn’t matter. “However long you stay, you have access to the full house. All except for my private quarters, of course, and the music room.”

My heart sinks. I clutch my violin case closer. “Of course.”

What did I expect? That I’d play endless duets with a famous composer? That he would take an interest in me, teach me, even allow me to listen to him working?

Ridiculous. I’m here as a favor to my father, nothing more. Herr Vogel understands that, even if I tried to forget it. Even if for a foolish moment, I let some excitement slip through.

This is not some musician’s vacation.

I’m here because I have nowhere else to go.

* * *

Check out Winter Ward!

xxx

About the Author

Cassie writes outrageous, OTT instalove with tons of sugar and spice. She loves cookie dough, summer barbecues, and her gorgeous cat Missy.

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