Chapter 4
772 Words
Matias
Three weeks later, the paperwork’s were signed. The merger was official. And so was the marriage. We had bypassed the massive, media circus wedding in favor of a private ceremony at city hall mostly because my dear wife threatened to wear a neon green jumpsuit if I make her stand in front of three hundred socialites. I had laughed, assumed she was probably joking, and then realized with horror that she absolutely was not.Now, stood in the center of my meticulously designed Tribeca penthouse, I was beginning to realize the true scale of the invasion. "Left a bit! No, your other left, you giant baboon!" June’s voice echoed from the grand foyer."Miss Kensington sorry excuse me, Mrs. Stone," one of the movers groaned, sounding on the verge of tears. "This is a baby grand piano. It weighs eight hundred pounds."
"Which is exactly why it needs to go next to the south facing window," she replied cheerfully, sitting on a packing crate while swinging her sock clad legs. "The acoustics in that corner are spectacular. Plus, my husband loves to watch the sunset, and I like to block his view with heavy instruments. It’s a compromise." I walked down the stairs from the second floor, taking in the absolute chaos. There were boxes everywhere. And a massive, incredibly fluffy golden retriever was currently asleep on my pristine, white boucle sofa, drooling onto a designer throw pillow."Juniper," I said, crossing my arms. She instantly perked up, her head turning toward the stairs. "Ah, the landlord! Welcome to your new home, Matias. I’ve made some executive decisions regarding the decor."
"I see that," I said, walking over to the sofa. I pointed at the dog. "And why is there a small bear on my couch?"
"That’s Barney. Introduce yourself to him, but don't make any sudden movements; he might mistake you for a giant chew toy. He’s very protective of his naps." As if on cue, the dog let out a heavy sigh, rolled onto his back, and exposed his fluffy belly to the ceiling."Terrifying," I muttered. I walked over to her, stopping just inches away. She smelled like her usual mix of sweet vanilla, but there were faint hints of dust from the moving boxes. "You’ve officially occupied my living space. Are you satisfied?"
"Not yet," she said, reaching out and grabbing my tie, tugging me down so our faces were level. "I haven't heard you complain about the noise yet. I thought you'd have a spreadsheet of noise violations ready for me." I'm saving that for your first vocal practice," I whispered, my eyes dropping to her lips.She was so close. I could feel the warmth of her breath, see the tiny, faint freckles dusting the bridge of her nose. My hand acted on its own, rising to brush a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. She went unusually still, her breath hitching slightly. "You..." she started, her voice losing its bratty edge, turning soft and tentative. "You're standing way too close."
"You pulled my tie, June," I reminded her, my voice thick. "I'm just following your lead." She swallowed hard, her amber eyes searching the empty space where my face was. For a second, the sarcastic, untouchable heiress vanished, replaced by someone incredibly vulnerable. It made my chest ache in a way I didn't quite understand yet. Then, she smirked, breaking the spell. "Good," she whispered, releasing my tie with a sharp pat to my chest. "Because my first practice starts in exactly five minutes. I hope you like Puccini, husband."
I stepped back, clearing my throat, trying to ignore the sudden rush of cold air where she had just been. "I have a conference call in ten minutes."
"Then you better put on some headphones, Matias," she laughed, hopping down from the crate and tapping her way toward the newly placed piano. "Because I'm about to blow the roof off this mausoleum." Twenty minutes later, as I sat down in my office trying to explain a multi million dollar acquisition to my Tokyo partners, the glass walls of my office began to vibrate. It wasn't a screech or a chaotic noise like I expected. Instead it was a rich, soaring, heartbreakingly beautiful soprano voice that cut through the silence of the penthouse like a silver blade. It was a wild, passionate, and utterly mesmerizing sound. I stopped speaking mid sentence. "Mr. Sinclair? Are you still there?" the voice from the speakerphone asked.
"Yes," I breathed, staring at the closed office door, my heart pounding against my ribs. "I'm still here. I just... had to listen to something."
- Writer
