Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“I like your voice. You can sing, can’t you?” he countered.
She actually stepped back away from him, those long lashes fluttering. He found himself flashing a grin, his fingers finally stopping their movement on the strings.
“You can sing. You were just about to try to tell me a giant whopper.”
“I can’t. My mother could sing. She had a beautiful voice. She sang all the time. When she was alive, the house was always filled with music. She would break into song whenever anyone was grumpy.”
“Were you grumpy?” He set his guitar in its stand.
“Sometimes,” she admitted reluctantly. “In the morning. I’m not really a morning person.”
He found himself laughing. “I’ve seen you grumpy. I can tell I’m going to have to drag you out of bed in the mornings.”
She glared, trying to look tough. He thought she only looked adorable. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’m not above retaliation.”
He really laughed then and slung his arm around her neck, pulling her into him. “You’re a sweet only child, Nicoletta. I’m one of the youngest of seven. You learn fast to think of evil things to do to those who prank you.” He walked her out of his music studio.
She balked at the door, stopping him with a hand on his chest. “Your music is really good, Taviano. I suspect you already know that. Someone has to have told you, one of your friends. You know people in the industry. Don’t you even own companies that produce music and videos? I thought the Ferraros had their own label.”
“We’re silent partners, although not so silent anymore,” he admitted.
Some of the top musicians had jammed with him. They’d listened to his singles and wanted him to record the songs or allow the artists to record them. He’d refused. They were private, lyrics born of his private pain. Nicoletta’s private pain. Their struggles to overcome their feelings of inadequacy. Their growing strength, finding it first in themselves and then in each other. Each song was a record of something very personal, although no one would ever know that. Just Nicoletta.
“My songs are for you.”
She looked around the studio. It was as professional as it got. Then she looked up at him. He knew immediately, by the way her dark eyes glistened at him, that she got it. “You’re such a beautiful man, Taviano.” She put one hand over her heart. “I’ll learn to sing the songs if you really want me to, if they’re just for us. You gave me such an enormous, amazing gift. I want to hear every single thing you’ve ever written.”
“I want to hear you bring them to life.” Her voice would. She had that perfect pitch and the ability to make the lyrics weep with emotion or soar with hope.
“You really have never shared your music with your family? Not Stefano or Vittorio? Or Emme?” She knew he was particularly close to them.
“The lyrics were too close to the truth of my life. I would never sing in front of them anyway, but if they asked me to read the lyrics to them, Stefano would know just by listening to my voice or looking at my face. He’s very in tune with all of us.” Taviano walked her out of the studio and then locked the doors.
“Why lock them? Your family can just get in anyway.”
“We use an invention of Ricco’s to keep anyone from sliding under a door using shadows. I’ve installed them so no one can get into my studio. They would have to break in the conventional way. I would know, and I wouldn’t be too happy. On top of that, all of us have a great deal of respect for one another and our privacy. When I’m not home, security is activated and it’s very tight. If you’re here by yourself, I would want you to have the security system on.”
Taviano was careful not to make that an order. Nicoletta didn’t need anyone ordering her around. She was intelligent and capable of making up her own mind about security. The Ferraros were always going to be at risk. She’d been around the family long enough to know there were always threats made against them. They were highly visible. They made enemies. They carefully cultivated a certain image that made others think they were useless with far too much money, or businessmen buying and selling companies others had worked to build up.
“I want to be able to go outside and utilize the patio and woods,” she said. “Is there a way to do that and still have the security system intact?”
“Yes.” Taviano hesitated. He didn’t want to sound as if he was bragging. All of the Ferraros were born with various gifts. He had a knack with electronics and liked to tinker, to come up with new gadgets. He could disrupt security systems easily because he was always building new ones.