Page 15 of Die for You (Diamond Devils #4)
Aurora
In the music building, I try to nail Beethoven’s “Für Elise” for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.
My mother was a classical pianist who claimed I was born with piano fingers, so this instrument should come more naturally to me than it has. According to a band teacher at my last high school, the keyboard is the most versatile instrument and every serious musician should master it.
Yet my eyes keep glazing over as I stare at the sheet music, fingers stumbling and forcing me to start over.
Jeremiah’s words echo in my head. Just quit. Go do something you’re actually good at. Do something that will actually make you money. What the hell are you going to do with a music major?
Unfortunately, my orchestra conductor is also a complete hard-ass with deeply ingrained crow’s feet that betray how many years she’s been shouting at the students who can’t live up to her impossible standards.
Not exactly a recipe for getting me over my stage fright.
“Perhaps you should stick with the violin, Miss Archer.” Professor Abernathy’s hands are planted on her hips, bony elbows jutting out like a baby bird.
Every two seconds, she’s adjusting her gray-streaked ponytail or pushing up her wire-framed glasses or huffing out of her nose like an irritated bull. All of it enough to distract me.
I clench my jaw, but miraculously manage to bite back all the cuss words I want to shout at her.
“Again,” Professor Abernathy barks.
I roll my shoulders before trying again, fingers gliding over the smooth keys cool to the touch. This time, the off-key notes come faster, the discordant clatter making my ears ring.
Before Professor Abernathy can chastise me again, I slam my hands on the keys, jaw clenched and palms aching. My back and ass are sore from sitting on this bench for hours, and the worst part is I nailed this fucking song before she waltzed into the room.
It’s her. It’s anyone watching me. Once I’m under the spotlight, my limbs stiffen, my fingers lock up, and my mind scrambles. The notes on the sheet music blur together, I lose my place, I forget the next notes, and everything’s fucked.
If the only time I can play is when I’m alone, I’ll fail my recital. Which means delaying graduation and kissing Juilliard goodbye. Waving goodbye to my only chance at getting far, far away from Jeremiah. At my start to a new life that’s all mine.
Professor Abernathy sighs. “We’re finished for the day. Gather your things and let another student use this room.” She grabs her bag before glaring at me with furrowed brows. “Maybe someone who actually makes the time to practice.”
“I’ve been here for hours ,” I seethe.
“Maybe she can’t play with someone breathing down her neck,” a low voice snaps. “Expecting her to make a mistake.”
Professor Abernathy and I both spin, wide-eyed as three giant men loom by the door.
Damien, Knox, and Finn.
I’ve never been so damn happy to see them.
“Aurora plays beautifully when no one’s watching.” Knox gives me a warm smile that melts the frozen wall around my heart. “Sings too.”
Right. They’ve heard me play when I think no one’s watching me. I still haven’t found those damn cameras they hid in my apartment.
Professor Abernathy glares at me like I’m responsible for how they’re talking to her. Like I should be able to control them. They’re not my fucking dogs. “If that’s true, she’ll have to learn how to overcome her stage fright if she ever wants to be a serious musician.”
“Aren’t you supposed to teach her that?” Damien saunters closer, arms folded and face cloudy. “Pretty sure that’s your job.”
I bite back the grin that threatens to break across my face. Professor Abernathy is rendered silent for once. The only sign of a reaction is the flush to her cheeks as she shuffles out of the room. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Archer. Be prepared.”
“Pleasure as always, Professor!” I call after her, but she’s already gone.
Knox swoops in, sliding onto the piano bench at my side. His warmth and minty scent are instantly comforting, my muscles already relaxing. “Don’t listen to her. You can do anything, Rory.”
God, Knox always knows what to say. He really knows how to feed a girl’s praise kink.
Finn looms by my side, a finger gliding along a strand of my hair before he curls it around his skin. My heart stutters at their nearness. With a hand, Finn signs, Anything .
Since my parents died, everyone I’ve known has made me doubt myself, my abilities. Teachers, foster parents, social workers, classmates, friends, boyfriends.
Then three Devils crash into my life and tell me everything I’ve always wanted to hear. You’re beautiful. You can do anything. You’re not alone. I’m here.
I swipe at my eyes and force out a laugh before I burst into tears in front of them. “God, I hate that bitch.”
“Play,” Finn’s low voice coaxes. “For us.”
I bite my lip, staring down at the black and white keys in front of me. All my life, music has been my only reprieve. I don’t want anyone to take that from me too.
“You know we love to hear you play.” Knox bumps me gently with his shoulder. “Block out all those other voices in your head, Rory. They don’t matter.”
“They don’t know shit.” Damien’s voice is dangerous as he grips my chin and forces my eyes on his. “Ours are the only voices that matter now. And yours.”
If I can play in front of the Devils, maybe I can get over my stage fright. Finally silence all of those negative voices that echo in my head.
A few beats of silence pass as the Devils surround me. They wouldn’t laugh or mock me. Even if I fucked up, they’d ignore it or laugh it off with me.
But the second my fingers graze the cool keys again, the back of my neck burns and I jump to my feet.
I stab at my phone on top of the piano to check the time. “I can’t. I need to get to work.”
“We’ll drive you.” Damien shakes his keys in the air.
If any of them are disappointed, they don’t let me see it.
I shake my head, stuffing my sheet music and phone in my bag. “I have a ride.”
“Don’t make us beg, Rory,” Knox calls to my back.
Against my better judgment, I halt in the doorway to face them. “Beg for what?”
“For you,” Finn says simply.
Their eyes are glued to me like I’m the only person in existence. For once, a small part of me basks in their attention. “Maybe I want men who will beg for me.”
“Good luck getting tips with that attitude.” Leah, my insufferable coworker, fixes me with her usual smug smile. “Or staying employed.”
I sweep the empty plates and cups in the bus tub with a chaotic clatter.
As much as I hate to ever agree with Leah Can-Suck-My-Dick Cummings, she’s probably right that I won’t stay employed long with my attitude.
And I sure as hell don’t plan on changing my attitude anytime soon, no matter how much I need this job.
Some people need to be told to their faces that they’re assholes.
“Maybe customers should know by now that you don’t fuck with the people who handle your food.”
Leah snorts. “So spit in their soup. But if you’re a bitch, you can kiss your tip goodbye.”
She nods to my table, which is noticeably devoid of cash.
Once upon a time, people actually used to call me sweet. Quiet, polite, even friendly .
No one who knows me now would probably have a single nice word to say.
Now I’m the dog who’s been kicked so many times, she growls whenever someone gets too close. She’ll bite your fucking hand off if she has to.
This is how I stay safe.
All of my tables are empty. To be fair, the restaurant is usually pretty dead.
Another reason why my job security here is tenuous at best. But it’s impossible to ignore that Leah has three tables of happy customers, most of them regulars.
When we work shifts together, she walks away with a hundred fifty dollars in her pocket—two hundred if she gets a few horny middle-aged men at her tables—and I’m lucky to scrape together fifty bucks.
She knows how to flash a fake smile when she needs to.
When I was with Jeremiah, I used to be able to do the same. Smile when I had to. Keep the peace. Walk on eggshells. But I can’t bring myself to do that anymore.
I vowed to stop living that way when I left Jeremiah. I can’t go back.
I’ll stay here until I’m fired. Then my next job should probably be something that doesn’t involve human interaction.
Before Leah can catch me, I check my phone. A missed call from Barb and another voicemail. I swipe away the notifications and delete the voicemail without listening to it, then block her number. I have no desire to hear anything that woman has to say to me.
The familiar clang of the bell against the door spikes my anxiety. Good old classical conditioning.
“Yours!” Leah calls to me as she heads for the kitchen to collect appetizers for one of her tables.
I sigh, but a glance at one of the beaming faces standing in the doorway fills me with relief.
“Hey, Aurora!” Sienna rushes forward to hug me.
At her side, Juliet is her usual displeased, pursing her lips as she takes in the unimpressive surroundings of wobbly wooden tables, tile floors, and minimal, outdated decor.
“How did you guys know I was here?” I ask them. Juliet quirks a pierced brow at me like I should already know the answer. “Right. My stalkers.”
What don’t Finn, Knox, and Damien know about me? I should just count my blessings that they sent Sienna and Juliet here and haven’t shown up themselves to scowl at every male customer and coworker who interacts with me.
“The guys told us we could find you here,” Sienna confirms. “We thought maybe you could hang out after your shift is over. Girls’ night!”
Sounds like they don’t plan on eating here. That’s for the best. I would’ve had to warn them that I don’t even take my lunch breaks here—I head across the street to the bistro with a reputation for bad burritos and food poisoning.