Symphony of sins

oice-a low, steady hum-haunted her thoughts. Every note they played together echoed in her mind,

ested beside her, untouched since she'd left Damien's studio. She told herself she needed distance, space to

stood at the window, his back to her, bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun. The room was war

k you'd stay a

Aria closed the door softly behind her, stepping deeper into the room. "You wer

they swept over her. "It's the music, isn't

th hitching slightly as she stepped close

her arm, and a current of heat raced through her. "More than the music?" he murmured, his voice v

the air like a suspended n

met his gaze. "I want to stop

the permiss

esitation she'd ever known. His lips were soft but commanding, and when her hands slid up his che

he knew by heart. He moved with intention, like every gesture was written in the margins of a forbidden sc

t this," he said, voice

the way her lips found his again-urge

moment, drinking in the sight of her as if she were a masterpiece he'd been aching to frame in memory. Then, slowly, reverently, he traced hi

over her skin. Damien knelt before her, his hands skimming up her thighs, spreading warmth

beat, every moan a harmony. They moved in perfect sync, as if they

gh it, holding her as she trembled in his arms

rms, her fingers traced idl

he murmured, lips brushing his

her closer. "And you play l

ll of something sacred. Something that neither of

the studio. Aria stirred beneath the velvet throw draped over her, the remnants

d left on the chaise. The room was quiet-too quiet. No footst

" she ca

ans

panel in the far wall-barely visible, but slightly ajar. She approached, curious, and pushed it ge

eath c

n manuscripts, dust-covered books. But it was the chest in the corner that pulled at her. Ornate and

then knelt and

brittle. Beneath them, wrapped in a silk scarf, was a

h care, eyes scanni

Ends in Tragedy – Moreau Fami

tightened

story of a public breakdown during a live concert years ago-one that ended with a conductor hospitalized and a fire that consumed p

nded as she read

amien Moreau's role in the fire. Some say he was haunted

aper slowly, her

soul. The man who whispered music into her bones. Th

, the floo

ned, ey

He held no expression on his face-but his eye

osed to find that