Page 66 of The Darkest Note

When Ms. Eunice is gone, I turn and find a furious glare pointed at me.

But it’s not from Christa.

Dutch folds his arms over his chest. “Looks like you’re my problem now, Brahms.”

“You’re not seriously thinking about helping her, are you? Eunice is clearly out of her mind if she thinks you can do that.” Christa scoffs. “She needs a therapist.”

What I need is for the two of them to get out of my face.

“I know you stole my music sheet.” I point a finger in Christa’s chest. “And I know you,” I glare at Dutch, “set her up to it.”

His eyebrow quirks and her lips twitch guilty. The confusion on Dutch’s face sends doubt skittering through my head. Am I jumping to conclusions here? Did Christa try this stunt on her own?

The moment I start to soften, I shake my head. Whether or not Dutch was involved doesn’t matter. He’s made his position clear and I’m not going to trust him. Everything he’s ever done has been to push me out of Redwood Prep. This time is no different.

“I don’t care what you think, Brahms. Just be ready for my brand of therapy.”

I think gouging my own eyes out with sharp pencils would be less painful than having Dutch as my therapist.

“I don’t think so,” I snap.

“It’s too late. You already wormed your way into my responsibilities, Brahms.” He tilts his head and smirks at me. “It’s not a good feeling when you push yourself somewhere you don’t belong, right?”

I despise him. From deep down in my soul, to the place where music flows through my veins, it all abhors him.

The urge to punch his smug little face nearly overwhelms me.

Christa grits her teeth and says, “Dutch, can I talk to you? Outside?”

“No you may not.” He crooks a finger at me. “Leave. I need to talk to Brahms. Alone.”

I snarl at him. “That’s not happening.”

When I start to walk off, Dutch grabs my hand. The moment he touches me, I feel a zip up my spine. His eyes flicker and he drops my hand as if he felt it too. The look he gives me next is almost disdainful.

Christa lingers, not knowing when to leave. “Dutch.”

He ignores her pouting. “Out. Now.”

We say nothing while she storms out and slams the door behind her. For a second, our harsh breathing is all that fills the room.

I fold my arms over my chest, not missing the way Dutch’s eyes drop there. So much for being so in love with me and my music yesterday. He’s wasting no time leering at me now.

His gaze jumps back to mine and he snarls, “If I’m stuck with curing you, then you’ll have to do something for me too. I’m not a freaking charity.”

“You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m going to follow you—”

I’m cut off when Dutch swoops in and gets so dangerously close to my face that my body turns to jello.

Eyes darkening, he growls, “Then you can pay for my wallet. It’s a custom piece worth over five thousand dollars.”

“It isn’t,” I screech. “I don’t believe you.”

His lips curl up, making him look both dangerous and disgustingly beautiful. “I’ll have my lawyers call yours.”

My heartbeat picks up. I don’t have lawyers. I don’t even know a lawyer.

I gulp. “What do you want me to do in exchange?”