My throat went dry. “Because we’re going to see a concert.”

The second the answer was out, he spun around, checking to see if there were any posters on display. There was a big one right next to the entrance, and his entire body grew still.

He didn’t turn back around as he spoke, emotion filling his voice. “I told you not to push this.”

“I only push because I care.” My words were uttered so quietly, I was surprised he heard them. Jack took a step forward, as though predicting King was going to fly off the deep end. He shot Jack a rather unfriendly glare.

“Leave it out, McCabe. I’m not an animal. I won’t make a scene.”

And then, without further ado, he walked towards the concert hall, determination in his gait. Jack, Lille and I all exchanged surprised glances before I hurried to catch up with him, fumbling for the tickets in my handbag.

I handed them to the attendant at the door, and he directed us to our section. We all bypassed the bar (obviously) and went straight into the hall. Our seats were on the ground floor, right in the middle. King hurried his pace and went ahead of us to take his seat. His posture was strung tight, his hands flexing into fists. I stood in the aisle and turned back to the others.

“Do you think he’s all right?” I asked them with worry.

“I think he’s trying to be,” said Jack.

His answer caused me to emit a long exhalation, and then I made my way to our seats. Taking the one beside King, I sat. He stared directly ahead at the empty stage, and I tried to make conversation.

“This venue is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Nothing.

“It’s funny that I’ve never actually come here before. I should make it more of a regular thing.”

Still nothing.

“Would you like anything to drink?” I asked, and then winced. “I mean, like water or orange juice or something.”

“I’m fine,” he finally said on a long exhalation.

“Oh, right, good.” I paused, glancing around. Lille and Jack were being just as silent as King, which wasn’t helping matters. I got the feeling neither one of them were the chatty kind, but it could just as easily have been the awkwardness causing them to flounder for something to say. All of a sudden, my dress felt too tight, and my throat clogged with nervous tension.

“Well, I think I’ll go use the bathroom and maybe grab a programme before the concert starts.”

King glanced at me for a brief moment, nodded, then turned his attention to the stage again. I stood, making my way past him because lots of people had already taken their seats on the other end of the row. I did my best not to brush off him as I went, and then I hurried to find the ladies’. Once I got there, I really wanted to splash some water on my face, but couldn’t because it would ruin my makeup, so I settled for holding my wrists under the cold tap for a minute.

When I was done, I bought a programme and hovered, browsing the selection of CDs available. Then the final call for the start of the concert was announced over the speakers, so I made my way back inside. I had to go by King again to get to my seat, and my heel caught on the toe of his shoe, causing me to trip backwards. His hands went to my hips to steady me and I pulled myself back up, apologising profusely. Once I was safely seated, his hand squeezed my knee, the affectionate gesture surprising me. I was even more surprised when he leaned close to my ear and whispered calmly, “Relax, Alexis.”

My skin heated everywhere his breath touched, and he moved his hand away. I wished he’d leave it there. A moment later the concert began, the orchestra musicians taking their places on the stage. The pianist was the last to walk out, a woman in her thirties wearing a long black dress. The audience clapped for her, and then the conductor was standing by his podium, signalling the start of the concerto. The lights in the hall were dimmed, which made the gigantic room feel small somehow.

The second the pianist started to play, I had chills. With each stroke of the keys, she moved her body with a fierce elegance. It reminded me of that night in Rome, when King had played the same piece and I’d been fascinated by his talent and skill. The orchestra joined in after a couple of notes, and I was swept away with the music. It was so…passionate and consuming. Several minutes passed before I even thought to glance at King. He stared straight ahead, his hands resting on his thighs, but his eyes were glassy, his jaw clenched firm. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was angry or because he was trying to control his emotions.

Feeling brave, I reached out and slid my hand into his, our fingers intertwining. He didn’t push me away. Instead, he clenched my fingers tight, almost to the point of pain. He hadn’t heard music like this in a really long time, and I could tell it was having a profound effect on him. Hell, it was having a profound effect on me, and I knew nothing about classical music. There was just such beauty in the piece that it was hard not to let it capture your imagination.

Everything this man had been through flashed in my mind’s eye. The fear of his mother’s stalker. Thinking he’d killed him and then having his father come onto the scene, making it seem like he could fix everything, when really he was only going to make it worse. Bruce trying to force his way of life on King when he wanted no part in it. Making him bear witness to violence and crimes he could never wash from his memories. Blackmailing him for years. And then, the last straw when King finally snapped and almost killed his father. Running away and leaving behind everything he worked so hard to achieve because he thought he was a murderer.