Kianti gave one last low curtsy and prayed that her legs wouldn’t give out from beneath her. Silently, she sent up other prayers of thanks that the audience couldn’t see her legs shaking beneath the floor-length hemline of her gown. She left the group with her customary double wave and almost sprinted from the stage.
She kept the smile pasted to her mouth until all other smiling faces were left behind. She only needed a moment—just a moment—to get herself together. Brody would have a pill down her throat fast if she didn’t make herself scarce. She didn’t need that. She never wanted to need that again.
“I need to go.” Therin said the words almost to himself.
Vaughn heard him clearly. “’Bout damn time you get your mind on somethin’ other than work.”
Therin shrugged and refused to make eye contact with his friend. “Calm down, V, just goin’ to the john.”
“Uh-huh.”
The guys stood in unison. Therin couldn’t maintain the pretense for long and grinned at Vaughn’s knowing glare. His stare had softened, although his light eyes began to scan the noisy room.
“Keep ’em off my back for five minutes, V.” He shook hands with Vaughn and moved on.
Kianti shivered, and not from the backstage breeze that kissed her shoulder through the black lacy sleeves of her gown. In her world, there were only small windows of chance to happen upon unclaimed spaces at concert halls. During the last seven years of her professional career, she’d been blessed to catch those “windows” open after almost every performance.
As the audience conversed among themselves—shuffling from their seats and remarking on the talent they’d just witnessed and how it compared to others— Kianti sought that time to collect herself and to catch her breath.
She never wanted to need that again….
Therin cursed Vaughn below his breath, but realized, in all fairness, the man was probably elsewhere working to give him his requested “five minutes.” Unfortunately, his chief of staff couldn’t be everywhere at once, Therin grudgingly admitted. He worked up a fake smile for the group of Capitol Hill policymakers who waited along his path.
“Heard it through the grapevine Therin—you’re thinking of arranging a week-long retreat at your Vancouver place,” Jonas Dessin commented once the group made quick work of handshakes and small talk. “Rumor has it, it’s another EYES fundraiser.”
Therin laughed, clapping Jonas’s arm. “Does your grapevine have any idea what EYES’s bottom line is? Last thing they need is another fundraiser.”
“Grapevine also says it’s a membership drive,” Susan Brunschwig noted once the laughter had settled over Therin’s last comment.
He shrugged, his demeanor cool in the face of the subtle yet pointed inquiries. It wasn’t difficult. He’d been playing politics since he was four.
Stepping closer to Susan, Therin kept his smile light even as hers broadened and the stiff set to her body softened. “Education is in a precarious state.” He spared the woman’s colleagues a fleeting glance but directed his remark to her. “It was in an even worse condition before EYES came on the scene. We have a damn hard battle to fight. The kids we’re fighting for will need every able body we can find to take on this battle. So yes, Susan, membership is always in need. Good night all.” He bid smoothly and walked on.
Jonas Dessin turned to follow Therin’s exit. “There goes a dangerous young man.”
Susan kept her eyes on Therin heading deeper into the crowd. “Why dangerous, Jonas?”
“That kind of money going toward education? Are you kidding me?” Jonas’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
“It may not be so far-fetched.”
“That’s true—hence the young man being a danger. He’s rattling folks that would have the big amounts he woos from his…members go toward other endeavors—endeavors far removed from education. EYES boasts a powerful and prominent membership list and every one of those members loves that young man. Those un-sympathetic to his cause are threatened by that.” Jonas took a breather from his diatribe and helped himself to a drink off the tray of a passing waiter. “Like I said, there goes a dangerous young man.”
The serene backstage moment lasted longer than Kianti dared to hope it would. She even had time to kick up her heels. Literally. She’d pulled a chair closer to the one she occupied and propped up her feet. May as well make the most of it, she thought. Any minute the vultures would descend.
Kianti felt a smile emerge and quietly chastised herself. She loved her career and the madness that often came with it. Though there were varied aspects she could have done without, the greatest share of it had been a blessing.
Those who loved and followed her work had grown into a staggering number in the seven years since the start of her career. She was still in awe of it. She’d always been modest about her talents, even as a child, when she started playing the tune her mother hummed while preparing dinner one evening. It was a crude rendition of the melody banged out on Kianti’s pink toy piano, but it was enough to give her parents pause.
Not long after, the then four-year-old Kianti learned the word “prodigy.” Her parents and all the new teachers they brought in were talking about her when they said it. Those days had long passed, but even now she found it difficult to believe how taken aback people were when they discovered what she could do with a piano.
To herself, she would admit to succumbing to a bit of smugness over it. The more awestruck people were, the more she was allowed to do what she loved. In spite of the fact that she put her life at stake every time she did it.
Therin found her in a remote corner backstage. He sighed. It was not until then that he realized he’d been holding his breath. She’d been taking deep breaths as well, he noted, appreciating the fact that her eyes were closed. His presence was not yet noticed. No doubt she’d be unnerved and rightly agitated finding some stranger intruding on her private moment.
Her music was enchanting, but he wouldn’t lie that it was more than her talent that had him rushing backstage to find her. Part of him wondered if it was all about her looks, either. After all, he’d been seated too far away to focus in on every nuance of her very lovely face. He wasn’t surprised to find her as captivating at a distance as she was once that distance was closed.
Cinnamon-brown and fine-boned, she appeared doll-like and far too fragile to pound out the driving rhythms that she gave less than an hour ago. Her eyes appeared to tilt at the corners and he wondered at their color, but didn’t want her opening her eyes just yet. He needed more time to observe, and it was then that he recognized what he was seeking when he disappeared backstage to find her.
There was calm, a serenity that he’d swear was almost visible. It followed her and he wanted it or…at least a moment to enjoy whatever part of it she might unknowingly share.
He watched as she reached up to finger the glittering band that held her coarse dark hair away from her face. She opened her eyes then and looked right at him as if she’d been aware of his presence all along. Along with the cool expectancy in her bottomless dark stare, there was also the hint of curiosity.
“I’m sorry.”
His first words sparked a smile and a slight indentation along her left cheek that hinted at a dimple.
“What for?” she asked.
Therin took a moment, long brows rising slightly as he regarded his answer. He’d known the reason for the apology but when she asked, his mind went completely blank. What the hell was wrong with him? He prayed she hadn’t detected the frown he was trying to hide.
Kianti tilted her head and observed him. A lost tourist, perhaps? She’d detected a chord in the two words he’d spoken. Something old-world or, at the very least, regal, clung to his tone.
“I