THE VIRTUOSO IN THE DUST: THE BILLIONAIRE’S WAGER AND THE FALLEN MAESTRO

Victoria felt something clench in her throat. She looked at his hands—those long, scarred fingers resting on the yellowed ivory keys—and for a fleeting instant, she remembered the sound of the Bösendorfer reverberating through the ballroom last night. That music had not come from vanity. It had come from a place so dark and bottomless that she knew, with terrifying certainty, she could never survive a single day in it.