The Protege - Page 23

“Mr. Valmary what?”

She shrugs, uncomfortable. “He seems decent enough but people can be kind to their friends and family and not so kind to the people they take to bed. You don’t know what he’s really like. You know, as a man.”

To date. To sleep with. He could be cruel. He could be a womanizer. He could be callous. He could be, but I know he’s not. You don’t live with someone for ten years without getting a good idea of the sort of person they are.

But none of that is relevant as I don’t plan on sleeping with Laszlo. I’ve set out exactly what I want from him and I’m deciding in my own time whether to accept this arrangement. Nothing can go wrong. “I told you last night that I don’t plan on kissing him again and I meant it. There’s nothing of that sort between us.”

Hayley mutters into her bagel, “Just some mild to moderate dominance and submission, what could be more ordinary or mentorly than that.”

“Hayley.”

She smiles brightly. “Yes, Isabeau?”

I can’t even be mad at her because she’s right. It’s not strictly mentorly what I’ve asked Laszlo to do for me but I don’t care. I have Laszlo close to me again, the only man I’ve ever wanted and the only man I ever will. Laszlo and music. That’s what I want my life to be.

I get out my phone and text him. Thank you for breakfast

His reply comes through almost straight away. You’re welcome. Is the pizza in the bin?

Yes, Laszlo

Good girl

The lower part of my belly clenches. Good girl. Such a simple, innocuous phrase, but so much more than that. I can hear Laszlo voice as if he’s murmuring the words in my ear, like a caress. Good girl. He feels so close to me even though he’s on the other side of London. How different it is from just two days ago when I arrived back from Durham and the memory of him all around me made me want to cry because I missed him so much.

I take a shower after breakfast and then Hayley and I play the Brahms Double Concerto for violin and cello together. I watch her, envious of the fact that she performed this piece as a soloist in Philadelphia last year. She’s got more dates lined up in this country and in Europe and nearly twenty thousand followers on Instagram. How has she done this? Where did the last three years even go for me?

A few hours later my phone buzzes and I see I have an email from Laszlo.

Isabeau,

I promised you more information about the tour. Normally these are arranged at least six months in advance but this time I’ve had to pull everything together at the last minute. Ten days ago I was contacted by a booking agent looking for an orchestra to fill a series of dates. There was a problem with another orchestra’s insurance and they couldn’t travel, and despite several key members of the ensemble being on leave I agreed. Several, not “half” the orchestra as Marcus Sabal stated yesterday.

I’m in need of an excellent second cellist. The itinerary is attached. It’s an opportunity that was impossible for me to refuse.

There isn’t much time for preparation as we leave in two days. It will be a demanding schedule and we will rehearse as we go. I’ve been given a free hand in what we perform due to the orchestra’s excellent reputation and the pieces we play will vary from city to city. Everyone on the tour needs to be one hundred per cent committed to performing at their best. We can’t merely trade on our reputation, we have to deliver world-class performances every night, and that means hard travel, focused rehearsals and devotion to perfection. I need people who can function together, under pressure. This isn’t a holiday.

I would like you to join the orchestra for the tour and I’ll need your response tonight. Rehearsals begin 12pm at the Mayhew tomorrow.

Thank you for coming to the house yesterday. It was timely, in more ways than one.

Laszlo

After I finish reading Laszlo’s email I read it again. I’ve never heard him sound like this before. Not rude exactly, but abrupt. No, that’s a lie. I’ve heard him be brusque plenty of times, just not with me. It’s clear that if I come along on the tour he’s going to treat me like any other member of his ensemble.

The last line of Laszlo’s email makes me snort with laughter and indignation. It was timely for me to try and repair our relationship. What does he mean “in more ways than one”? Is that his way of saying he missed me, too?

I open the attachment and look down the list of city names and my eyes widen.

Singapore

Kuala Lumpur

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