Page 127 of Trust

Kyran rolls his eyes. “I impress you by existing,” he grumbles.

I can’t suppress my smile at that. “Thank you,” I tell Silvano.

As always, I wonder about who Silvano really is. Ilya called him a professional acquaintance, and Adam had said Silvano is a ruthless mafia boss, but I only know him as this elegant man who likes to tease people.

Whatever he does professionally, I know that he’s been very supportive of Ilya’s new ventures with the restaurant.

It’s something I’m grateful for. I hadn’t been sure how it would go, even if he had said that his allies had been willing to help him transition from being the lead on the less savory aspects of their business to focusing on the restaurant.

Ilya holds my chair out for me like I’m a lady, and I graciously sit down. Maybe other men would bristle, but I find that I enjoy the attention.

“But in all earnestness, I much preferred this performance over the last one I saw,” Silvano says, smiling. “The music didn’t feel quite so…”

“Depressing,” Kyran finishes for him.

Ilya scowls at him, and Silvano rolls his eyes.

“I wasn’t going to pick that word,” Silvano assures me. “Both performances were good.”

“Thank you,” I say. “And…” I glance at Ilya, and he takes my hand. I squeeze it. “I liked this one better too.”

Kyran looks between us, then shakes his head. “You’re a bad influence, Cresci,” he says.

“I am a good influence,” Silvano says earnestly. “Anyway, it looks like it’s almost your turn. Go show Micah how to perform generic guitar songs.”

Kyran scowls at him. “Generic,” he mutters. “I’ll show you generic.” He gets up, taking his guitar with him, and heads to the stage.

I glance at Silvano, who’s watching Kyran with so much affection and fondness that he looks like a lovestruck teenager. I don’t doubt for a minute that he would do anything to protectKyran, even though Kyran probably doesn’t need the help. He’s got more than enough muscle to take care of himself.

Ilya wraps his arm around my shoulder—another thing Adam would never have done, not in public.

I settle in to watch Kyran’s performance, and I’m glad I get to appreciate it this time. He’s good, but I privately think that I’m better with my cello. Maybe it’s just my dedication — and the fact that Ilya lets me spend so much time practicing. He doesn’t mind it. If anything, he says he enjoys it.

I hope so.

Next week, I have an audition with an orchestra, and I’d be doomed if my own lover didn’t even like my music.

The thought threatens to make my smile fade, but only for a moment before I remind myself that Adam isgone, and Ilya is here, and I have everything to gain and nothing to lose.

I rest my head against Ilya and let my eyes drift closed as the music washes over me.

When he’s done, Kyran returns, red-faced as applause rings out around him, too.

“There. Mygenericguitar song,” he grumbles to Silvano.

Silvano laughs and ruffles Kyran’s hair, which looks silly with how much bigger Kyran is than Silvano.

“Very generic. But you might be able to serenade me anyway.” Silvano smiles at Kyran, and I catch Kyran’s face flush deeper before he looks away.

They’re together, but unlike Ilya, they aren’t quite as openly affectionate. Ilya admitted that until he was invited to their wedding, he hadn’t even known they were a couple.

They’resweet, which isn’t a word I think most people would associate with either of them.

Ilya stands and helps me to my feet as the next performer takes the stage.

“Very well. We won’t impose longer. Thank you for coming to watch Micah,” Ilya says to them.

Silvano lets out a small laugh. “I came to watch Kyran blush on stage. But Micah’s performance was a highlight.”