No Strings Attached (7 page)

“Of course it does, but they don't have a full orchestra.”

“And neither do we—at least, not in the traditional sense. We're unique. A mutt if sorts, stuck somewhere between music that's orchestrated and show tunes. I don't have trance tracks lying around in my studio for the hell of it. We mix everything together to create something more. Something new. Like I said before, think rock and Broadway with a hint of the classics. It's hard to explain, but that's why I have most of the music saved in the basement. I can
show
you what I mean.”

“I may have to listen to it first. You know, before I agree to anything.”

“Understood. Just so long as I have your permission to share what you played with the rest of the gang.”

I considered the terms of our trade for a moment. “With the lyrics?”

“Only if you want—it's mostly the violin I want them to hear right now—until they meet you that is.”

“Now we really are getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Sweetheart, for me, this couldn't come at a more opportune time. I need a first violinist, and by the way you sounded earlier, you could use a break. Why not lose yourself in your music and get paid for who you are?”

“I'd need a few weeks—to make sure things stick.”

“That goes for the both of us. Tell you what. You let me record that song of yours again without the lyrics, and we'll go from there.”

I nodded and settled into his arms. We stayed awake most of the night. Between recording my track without the lyrics and listening to what Transcendence was working on, neither of us could close our eyes without getting lost in one melody or another. But like most nights, sleep eventually stole me away, and when I finally woke, Thayre was gone.

T
he drive into work that morning was uneventful. Half the time I hadn't realized I was driving, and thank God for muscle memory, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten to work at all. Going through the usual motions of the day, my thoughts were elsewhere, scattered between my music, the amazing tracks Thayre had me listen to and everything that had happened last night.

Long after the embers had cooled, I couldn't help thinking he wasn't some other guy. He was an old friend of course, but deep down, the way he acted last night pushed me toward the same conclusion. Every time.
He's a Dom.
He had to be. And if I recognized the traits of a Dom in him, there was a chance he'd seen the submissive side in me.

It's been said we can't ever truly forget who or what we are, and the same thing goes for a couple and their dynamic. I swore to myself I'd never submit to another man ever again, but saying and doing are two entirely different things. If there was one thing I learned from Thayre's aggression and the way I acted in front of him, there was no way I could ignore that part of myself for long. Push it to the side, sure, but eventually, my submission would find its way back.

Until then, I was determined to bury it. Six feet under. And while I'd have no problem keeping my submission hidden at work, the same couldn't be said for whenever I next met with Thayre.
Keep things professional.
If he was going to be my employer—
God, that sounded weird—
we couldn't allow our sex, no matter how good, to get in the way of his music.

One relationship at a time.
Boss or Dom. One or the other.
Not both.

I cursed under my breath when one of the boxes of pasta poured open, dumping dried noodles onto the stockroom floor.
For the love of God.
I returned the box to its case and stepped into the kitchen to grab a broom.
You're lucky you can manage your job as a waitress.
No doubt I'd have been a wreck playing my violin in front of hundreds, possibly thousands of people.

At least if I dropped a plate on the floor, it could be swept up and replaced. But if I missed one note or, God forbid, if I hit a sour one, it would be a lot more than the cost of plates on my hands. And as the first violinist, there was no hiding my bad performance behind someone else.

I swept the pasta into a dustpan and threw it out before stocking the shelves.
Quite the mess you've gotten yourself into.
I could still get out. I hadn't said yes, but would I regret it if I walked away?

I already hated the fact I'd stopped playing to appease Bret's insane demands, but this wasn't Bret, and it wasn't just me playing the violin at home. What Thayre had asked of me was game changing. I needed more time—and probably a lot more than he had to spare.

Deadlines don't wait.
And the closer we got to August, the more Thayre would start searching for someone else. No matter what I decided, I could only pick one.

* * * * *

F
or the next week, Thayre and I spoke mostly through texts. Between my crazy hours at work and his long rehearsals, it was hard to plan for much of anything else. He'd sent me one or two short snips of what the crew was working on, and it turned out to be the worst torture imaginable. Not only was the melody catching, but I wanted to watch them play. Hell, I wanted to hear the entire song.

So the following Thursday, once I'd finished with work and Thayre assured me he'd be home for the evening, I headed for his place. I didn't bother getting changed. No doubt our clothes would end up on the floor anyway.

Knowing he had the same habits he did in high school, I grabbed some takeout from Max's along the way.

Hope you're hungry,
I texted him before pulling out of the drive through and into traffic.

You're a saint. I'll be in the basement, so let yourself in,
his text replied one stoplight later.

When I reached his driveway, there was another car parked in front of the garage, so I left my car on the street. The plates belonged to someone who lived in Pennsylvania and supported the Nittany Lions if the blue paws on the bumper were any indication.

I shrugged, and per Thayre's request, let myself in. As soon as I opened the door, I didn't have to ask where he was. Something played softly in the distance. A cello accompanied by a violin. Whoever he was playing with, they were really good. Better than good. Professional.
Better than me.

Whoever belonged to the violin should've been the one Thayre had offered the job to. Not me. I was nowhere near qualified, which became more apparent the longer I stood there listening to them play. I couldn't bring myself to interrupt a song that was in progress, so I waited.

I sat on the sofa and set Thayre's dinner on the coffee table. It was hard to imagine that, less than two weeks ago, I'd sat here for the first time. And while I'd been here twice, including tonight, it already felt familiar. Comforting.

The music stopped, and a deep voice filled the void. It was Thayre's voice soon followed by a feminine one. The music started up moments later, picking up right where they'd left off.
Thayre must've corrected her.
Knowing that, she was still a lot better than me.

Ten minutes passed as they played and replayed the same set, and when they finally stopped, I was lost somewhere in the melody. Footsteps came from down the hall, soon followed by Thayre's smile as he turned the corner.

“Moyra.” I stood as he hugged his arms around me. Then, once we parted, he asked, “When did you get here? You could've joined us.”

“Us?” I craned my neck, searching for the woman I'd heard earlier.

A petite blonde appeared behind him moments later, but unlike Thayre, her smile didn't reach her eyes.

“Moyra, this is Tabitha. Tabby, this is Moyra, an old friend of mine.”

I held out my hand and smiled when she shook it. “Pleasure to meet you, Tabitha.”

“Tabby, if you don't mind,” she corrected me, standing beside Thayre once our introductions were out of the way.

“That sounded beautiful,” I said, looking between them. “You play the violin, Tabby?”

“Who, me?” She shook her head. “Heavens no.” Then, straightening her posture, she added, “The cello is my preferred weapon.”

“Then the violin was—”

“Me,” Thayre chimed in, seemingly amused. “I told you before, Moyra, I'm filling in the blanks until I can find someone to do it for me.”

“Meaning me.” It wasn't a question. He'd said as much before. “But I sound nothing like that.”

“I beg to differ.” He turned to Tabby then, hugging her the same way he'd done to me. “Think you can practice what we went over until we meet on Saturday?”

She looked at her hands as if they could offer an answer. “I can try.”

“Well remember, if you get stuck, you can call me anytime. I have an open block tomorrow afternoon, should you need it.”

She nodded. “Thanks, Thayre. It was nice to meet you, Moyra.”

“You as well,” I said, watching her after she'd stepped outside and into her car. “Jesus, Thayre, Tabby doesn't look older than twenty.”

“They start younger every year,” he said, coming up behind me to kiss the back of my ear. “She started playing with us last fall, and she's grown a lot since then.”

“And she's part of Transcendence?” I asked, turning to face him.

“Not yet, no. By August, so long as she keeps this up, she will be.”

“I thought you were only missing a first violinist.”

“I am for now, but a lot of our players switch out all the time. Some play with us for a bit to put on their resume or college applications. There's a small handful who have stayed with Transcendence since we started a few years ago.”

“You weren't kidding when you said it was hard to find good musicians in the area, then.”

“Far from it actually. I wish it were easier, but most of the applicants we get are too young, too inexperienced, or don't want to work hard for their pay. I don't know about you, but I gave up on drama once I got out of high school.”

“And yet you have a fresh graduate playing for you.”

“Fortunately for us, not all of the kids fresh out of school are that bad. We got lucky with Tabby. She'd actually seen us play a year or two ago, back when all we played were local events. Didn't have the money to do much else. But once she came to see us perform, she sent in an application shortly after that.”

“And she got in?”

“Not at first, no. We rejected her first sample as she didn't diversify her music enough. But then she applied again last summer, and we're glad she did. She's grown a lot since she first applied.”

I dropped my gaze and focused on my feet. “Would I need to apply?”

Thayre set a hand under my chin, gently lifting my gaze so we could see eye-to-eye. “Does this mean you've considered my offer?”

“I've thought about it, but I can't say I've decided yet. Especially now since I've heard you play.”

He took my hands in his and smiled. “Moyra, you are that good, you just can't see it yet. But I understand your apprehension. This is a big move, and a huge favor for me to ask of you, but it wouldn't be one-sided—I hope.”

“Trust me, getting an offer like this is unbelievable. But I can't help thinking I'm pulling the rug out from under someone else's feet.”

He tucked a stray hair behind my ear but didn't remove his hand. “And I told you before, I have no one nearly qualified enough for the part.”

“Except you.”

He released a breath. “Yes, but unless I want someone else conducting my music and, more than likely, making a mess of it, I could really use your help. If not for the long-term, at least until after we play at Webster this fall. Everyone's so excited about it, but I'm afraid we won't be ready unless I can find someone fast—preferably someone who knows a thing or two about music.”

I winced. “Let me guess, you've had applicants for this exact position.”

“I have, but they're all playing at a beginner's level. Even if I had years to train them, they wouldn't be half as ready as I need them to be. We don't have enough time.” He arced his thumb along my cheek. “But that isn't the only reason I'm asking you to do this for me. If you're the girl I remember from school, you won't walk away from this. Not now, and not after Webster. And trust me, getting a first violinist who sticks around would make my job worlds easier.”

I forced a smile and, as much as I didn't want to mix personal and professional, I leaned into his caress like a cat seeking the warmth of her owner's hand. “No pressure, right?”

“We'll take it one day at a time. How about we do this—you don't have work on Saturday, do you?”

“Not so long as Jay keeps to the schedule.”

“Well, keep your cell off. Come and watch us practice. Then, if you still want out, I'll stop asking.”

“And if I want in?”

“We'll go from there.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “As for tonight, I have a few things in mind.”

“Have you at least managed to sleep recently?”

He lifted his shoulder in a partial shrug. “Fifteen minutes earlier this morning maybe? More than enough for me.”

“Not if you plan on pulling another all-nighter.”

“Oh, honey, you obviously don't know me as well as you think you do.”

“You might want to fix that.” I nodded to the bag on his coffee table. “After you eat.”

“Pfft, eating can wait. That's what they invented microwaves for.”

“Well, when you put it that way—”

Any snarky remark I may have had didn't make it past my lips. Thayre pressed a hand against the small of my back and drew me to him, making sure I felt his erection before crushing his lips to mine. I tried to take a breath, but his hold on me stole the very life from my lungs.

I closed my eyes and was vaguely aware of us moving toward the stairs before opening them again.

Somehow, I found my breath, and with it, my voice. “Wait.”

Thayre paused, keeping one hand on the railing. “You okay?”

No, this isn't right. We shouldn't rush things.
“Yes. Maybe...no.”

He frowned, and guilt settled in my stomach when the flicker of a smile faded from his lips. “What's wrong?”

I could almost hear him say,
“You were fine with this the other night,”
but the words in my head didn't belong to Thayre.