She didn’t know why that thought felt like a death.
‘I’m thinking of resigning my position,’ she said.
‘No! Lucy, you can’t. Has thatbastardoViktor—?’
‘It has nothing to do with him.’
Stefano’s vehement defence sent another shiver of awareness through her, but she couldn’t allow it to mean anything. He’d made himself clear the day she’d walked out of his life and back to her own.
‘I wouldn’t resign for that man—not after I’ve fought to keep my position. The fact I’m back at the orchestra shows his undermining of me didn’t work. In the end I won. He lost.’
She realised the truth of that now. But, more importantly, she knew she needed to work with people who wanted to create something beautiful rather than people who’d stab each other in the back trying to improve their position. In that way, deciding on her future was becoming easier.
‘Of course he did. I’ve looked at some of his playing. He can’t match you—inanyway.’
The passion contained in those words slid through her veins, sparking flares of heat deep inside. But there was nothing for it. They’d arrived at her hotel. Now she and Stefano would part, and that would be the end of them. She would be gracious, even though her insides felt as if they were being shredded by razor blades.
‘That’s kind, but we’re at my hotel.’ She looked at the doorman and smiled at him as he held the door open for her.
‘Mademoiselle Jamieson. Your Excellency.’
She turned to Stefano. ‘How does he know you?’
Stefano slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers, shrugged. ‘I’m staying here as well.’
Lucy hesitated. The tumble of emotions inside her was strange and confusing. ‘That’s kind of creepy, Stefano.’
‘You’ve made that accusation before. It appears I do “creepy” quite well—even though it wasn’t my intention, and there are good reasons for my being here.’
‘Staying at the same hotel as me should have been where you started our conversation. Could you not have said something earlier, like back at the concert hall?’
‘You would have found out soon enough. And I was enjoying the walk with you.’
She strode through the foyer and to the lift. Slipped off his jacket and handed it to him. He looked at it for a moment and frowned, as if the thought of her returning it almost hurt. Still, after some hesitation he took it, and folded it over his arm.
‘It’s been nice seeing you, Stefano, but I’ve had a long day. I wish you all the best for your future. Goodnight.’
He flinched, and she didn’t care. She couldn’t allow herself any kind of softer feeling, like sympathy, since he had none for her.
‘I... I want to keep talking. Could we take this to my room?’
Her heart did a silly backflip, but she ignored it. Frowned. ‘What for?’
How could she go to his room when all she wanted to do was fall into his arms and be held?
‘Because there’s a lot that I have to say, and it’s clear my attempts so far have been poor.’
‘I don’t owe you any more of my time.’
Seeing him again had brought all that pain she’d tried locking down into sharp relief. She’d set a clock on her grief over Stefano. Six months. Six months in which she’d immersed herself in it and hoped not to drown. Now she’d seen him again that clock had restarted, and the day she’d walked out through the door of his castle came back with the fresh, bright sting of a papercut.
She stabbed at the button for the lift, needing to get away.
‘No, you don’t owe me anything,’ Stefano said, keeping his voice low as a few people in the foyer were watching them both. ‘However, I owe you agreatdeal. Please, Lucy.’
At a distance in the concert hall, she’d looked luminous. Playing the instrument like an angel. Stefano had almost wanted to purchase the violin, to capture its heavenly beauty, but it was only wood and strings. The real genius was Lucy.
He wished he could trap it, bottle it.