“Lame. First one up makes breakfast.”
“Deal,” he said, even though he knew it was a trap. Sophie had mastered the art of staying in bed until he was awake, so he would be stuck with breakfast duty. One time he tried to outwait her and ended up lying in bed staring at the ceiling until almost ten in the morning. While dinner was his responsibility, they both agreed breakfast and lunch were a free-for-all. During the week they stuck to toast or cereal.
On Saturdays he went the extra mile. They both liked egg, pork roll—a Pennsylvania tradition she’d introduced him to—and cheese on a bagel. Saturdays were quickly becoming his favorite day of the week. On Sundays they visited Dom and Marie, and while he didn’t mind visiting them, he definitely liked it better when it was just him and Sophie.
It was becoming their thing. Despite her hostility, her snark factor and even her stubborn refusal to relent and fully forgive him, he was coming to like her. Loving her was automatic. But now he liked her.
He had to get her to like him in the same way. Forgoing the movie, he grabbed a beer and made his way to his bedroom, where he kept his personal computer to prevent any snooping from his daughter. Not that she would be able to get through his security, but its location added one more level of protection.
Sitting at his desk, he turned on the computer and accessed the site that would provide him with the most comprehensive information on JoJo Hatcher. A site that went beyond basic fact-checking, that some considered not completely legal.
But he wasn’t messing around. The woman was now officially working for him. If he was going to ask her to help him track down whoever sent that note, he had to know everything about her. Not a single piece of information was insignificant. It was time to know exactly who he was dealing with.
CHAPTER FOUR
THIS WAS THE start of a battle. A prelude to the fight. This was a time for her to lead her people forward into the unknown. They would give their lives for her. They would sacrifice all. Where she played they would follow. With wisdom and knowledge and no fear...
“Sophie! Sophie, halt!”
The words finally penetrated and Sophie looked up from her piano, the story she’d been telling with her fingers suddenly gone.
“Yes, Maestro?” She looked up at the short, plump man standing on the raised platform with the baton in his hand. Igor Romnasky, the legendary composer and conductor from Moscow, had been chosen to direct this performance of Grieg’s “Op. 16 in A minor.” He claimed he’d accepted the opportunity to work with Sophie. Or so she’d been told. Instead of listening to her play however, all he ever seemed to want to do was stop her.
“You are out of pace with the orchestra, yes?”
It always sounded like a question when he said it, but it never was.
Sophie nodded, but thought that if anyone was off the pace, it was the orchestra. He should be keeping them in time with her, not the other way. It wasn’t arrogance, it was the way the music had been written. The piano was king. Or in her case, queen.
“Again, yes?”
They had already been at it for three hours without a break. Her fingers were starting to get numb.
Sophie, too fast, yes? Sophie, too slow, yes? Sophie, too hard, yes?
No. Sophie was ready to take the bald man’s baton and shove it up his—
“How about a short break? It’s been a couple of hours. I think we all could use it.”
This from the principal violinist. Sophie looked at Bay and smiled. He gave her a wink and she really hoped it didn’t make her blush too horribly. She knew it made her heart race, which of course caused her palms to get sweaty. Which was gross when you were trying to play.
The maestro seemed to consider the young man with the big talent and finally relented.
“Fifteen minutes. No more, yes? Our first performance is next Friday.”
Sophie pushed out her bench and stood. She hadn’t realized how stooped over the keys she’d been and she nearly groaned when she stretched her back.
“You weren’t off the pace.”
Sophie smiled as she heard the quiet words in her ear. Turning, she smiled into Bay Tong’s beautiful face. He was Korean on his father’s side and Caucasian on his mother’s, and so completely the most gorgeous person she’d ever met. She didn’t think it was possible that someone like him would ever pay attention to her, but he did and it thrilled her every time he spoke to her.
Once a child prodigy himself, she got the feeling he tried to shelter her in ways that maybe he hadn’t been. But at age eighteen he was no longer identified as special. Merely incredibly talented. Certainly talented enough to win the first chair position in the Philadelphia Orchestra.
If only he would see her as more than a kid.
Of course, it was totally understandable when she was fourteen and had first met him. But now she was nearly fifteen and they were going to be only three years apart in age. Which was practically nothing, given her level of maturity. If she really wanted to, she could test out of high school. Then she wouldn’t even be considered a student.
“His hearing needs to be checked,” he added.
“I know. I think he gets off on bossing me around. Whatever. I’ve dealt with conductors like him. They all think they will be the one to make me do something I’ve never been able to do before. It’s all about their ego. All I want to do is play.”
“Yes, but you can learn from them. Sometimes I know it’s hard to think that way when they’re yelling at you. You have to take the one piece of instruction or advice that works for you and throw the rest away.”
“I spent three years at Juilliard. I know how to take instruction.”
“That’s different. They are trying to improve your technique. These guys care about something more. They want to pull a performance out of you and they can be ruthless in doing so. Sometimes even mean. That stuff can get to you after a while.”
Sophie shrugged and lifted a shoulder. “I know.”
“Just don’t let him get you down.”
“Protecting me again?”
He laughed softly. “Why do I think you’re the type who would say you don’t need anyone’s protection?”
That made her beam. Because she was exactly that type of person, which meant they were getting to know each other. They had been working together since January and now, as April approached, she was starting to think that maybe things could change between them. If only he saw her differently. Her birthday was May 15 and once it came, she was sure he would look at her with new eyes.
Today she’d intentionally worn tight skinny jeans and a top that was cut low enough to reveal the tops of her breasts. She’d spent thirty-six of her fifty-dollar-a-week allowance on a push-up bra from Victoria’s Secret. After weeks of owning it, she had finally worked up the courage to wear it.
Only
