Chapter 71 Midnight Warning
LEITANA
“Who dis?” I asked softly, heart pounding in my chest. I turned to the side and saw Ravial still beside me, blindfold in place, face calm. He hadn’t stirred, so I couldn’t tell if he was truly sleeping.
Then a voice came through the line, familiar, but unexpected.
“It’s me, Lafu.”
My eyes widened for a second, then relief washed over me. Not some stranger. Lafu. The kind photographer from the studio.
But how did she get my number? I didn’t remember giving it to her.
“Are you there, Leitana?” she asked.
“Y-yes, yes, mi here,” I said quickly, pushing loose hair from my face.
“Yu calling… it late,” I whispered, glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Midnight. My stomach tightened. Back home, no good news ever came at this hour.
“Yu okay, right?” I asked, worry rising. “Something happen?”
Lafu chuckled softly on the other end, but it sounded tired, not happy.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. Really. But… we need your help.”
“We?” I repeated, sitting up straighter. “Who we?”
A pause.
“Me, Marco, Stacy,” she said. “We can’t let this go. Will you help us find the truth about Celeste’s death?”
I stiffened.
Celeste.
My breath caught.
My mind flashed, darkness, pleading, Celeste’s tear-streaked face.
Help me.
Her fingers curled into the bedsheet.
My gaze drifted to the window, the starry night sky beyond the glass, moon glowing bright.
“Papa God,” I thought, exhaling shakily. “Dis yu doing? Sending her to mi… an’ now dis call?’
The room felt suddenly colder.
I clutched the phone tighter.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Mi help.”
The Next day
“Tank yu,” I said as Ravial helped me out of the car.
“Mi perfect gentleman,” I teased lightly, turning to face him with my back against the door. A shy smile tugged at my lips.
He closed the door behind me with a soft thud.
Before I could step away, his hand rose, fingers brushing the shell of my ear, slow, careful. The touch sent heat racing through me, my cheeks flushing instantly. I leaned into it without thinking, like a moth drawn to flame, unafraid of the burn.
“He wouldn’t let me burn,” I thought. Would he?
I looked up at him, eyes fluttering open.
He stared down, intense, as if seeing straight through me.
“You haven’t made a wish since that day,” he said, voice low.
“W… what?”
He stepped closer, erasing every inch of space between us until my back pressed fully against the car. My heart pounded wildly.
“Your bucket list,” he murmured. “You haven’t asked for anything I must fulfill.”
His hand slid from my ear to my neck, thumb tracing the line of my throat, light, possessive.
“Um… oh,” I managed, breath catching. My chest rose and fell too fast. “Soon… mi.. mi do….”
His fingers dipped lower, grazing the bare skin just above my collar, sending a shiver straight down my spine.
“R… Ravial,” I whispered, eyes fluttering closed again.
He leaned in, lips near my ear.
“I’m waiting, little wife,” he said, voice velvet-rough. “I want to know what you desire when you’re alone. What makes you wet when you think of me. Tell me… and I’ll give it to you. Slowly. Until you beg.”
Heat flooded me, scorching, shameful.
I gasped, eyes snapping open.
“Ravial!” I hissed, mortified. “Yu no say tings like dat… not here!”
People walked past on the sidewalk, some glancing our way.
He didn’t move back.
Instead, his hand caught my jaw, turning my face firmly to his when I tried to look away.
“I don’t care,” he said, calm and absolute. “You’re my wife. I’ll say what I want. I’ll touch what I want.”
His other arm snaked around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
Then he kissed me.
Hard and Deep.
No hesitation.
His mouth claimed mine, tongue sliding in, tasting, demanding.
His grip on my waist tightened, almost bruising, anchoring me.
I melted, hands clutching his lapels, knees weak.
When he pulled back, my lips tingled, swollen.
I was red as a ripe tomato, breathless, mortified.
People were definitely staring now.
He looked down at me, expression unchanged.
“When you go inside,” he said quietly, “don’t let any man touch you. Not a hand. Not a brush. Not a smile that lingers too long.”
His thumb pressed lightly against my lower lip.
“If they try… I’ll know.”
I swallowed, nodding fast.
“Yes… okay.”
He released me slowly.
“Go in,” he said. “Be a good girl.”
The words sent another shiver through me.
I turned, legs shaky, and hurried toward the Juilliard Extension doors.
Eyes followed me, I felt them.
At the entrance, I glanced back.
He wasn’t watching.
He was already stepping into the car, men closing the door behind him.
The vehicle pulled away smoothly.
I touched my lips, still burning.
And walked inside, my heart racing, my body humming, wondering how I was supposed to focus on piano when all I could think about was him.
I walked into the building, the sudden cool air raising goosebumps on my arms. The lobby stretched wide and bright—white walls, polished floors reflecting the light, beautiful paintings hung high, colors soft and flowing. People hurried past, carrying instrument cases or sheet music, the faint sound of different musical scales drifting from somewhere distant. The air smelled clean, like lemon and wood.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself.
Where mi go now? I thought, glancing around.
Last time, Ravial had been with me. Everything felt easier with him beside me. Now, alone, the hallways looked longer, the signs confusing.
I turned left, then right, trying to remember.
That corridor looked familiar, long windows on one side, posters of concerts on the other.
Yes.
I followed it, heart lifting a little.
At the end, the big studio door stood open. I remembered this room, the grand piano, the semi-circle of chairs.
A group of three girls stood just outside, talking in low voices. Early twenties, maybe. Stylish, hair sleek, clothes fitted, talking and laughing with each other
I smiled, relieved.
I walked up to them.
“Excuse mi,” I said softly. “Mi Leitana. New student. Mi looking for di group masterclass, di one wit’ Dr. Markov?”
The girls turned.
The middle one, long golden hair, pretty features, perfect makeup, looked me up and down.
Her friends did the same.
No smiles.
The blonde raised an eyebrow. “Do we look like information desks?”
Her tone was cold, mocking.
My smile faltered. “Mi… mi no mean offense. Mi jus’ loss. First time navigate alone.”
The girl on the left smirked.
The golden haired girl snorted. “Lost? Yeah, you look it. Not just in the building.”
The third girl laughed under her breath.
Heat crept up my neck, getting their meaning but I kept my voice steady.
“Mi speak Bislama English,” I said calmly. “From Vanuatu. Creole. Not bad. Jus’ different.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right. Different. Like everything else about you.”
I tilted my head. “Yu know, in mi country, we say ‘smile cost nothing.’ Maybe try am sometime. Make yu face prettier.”
The girls blinked.
The blonde’s mouth tightened.
One friend shifted, uncomfortable.
I kept my smile, small, but real.
“An’ if yu think accent mean dumb,” I added softly, “yu wrong. Mi learn piano fast. Mi learn people faster.”
Her cheeks flushed, anger, not embarrassment.
“Girls,” she said sharply, “let’s go. Some people don’t belong here.”
They turned, heels clicking, and disappeared into the studio.
I watched them go.
Took a slow breath.
“Papa God, give mi strength”
I was about to follow when a voice behind me said:
“That was really cool.”
I turned.
A guy stood there, tall, dark hair, kind eyes, a smirk on his lips
He smiled, genuine.
“You handled them perfectly.”
My cheeks warmed, but I smiled back.
“Tank yu.”
He nodded toward the door. “Masterclass is this way. Come on, I’ll walk you.”
Relief washed over me.
I followed him in.
Feeling a little stronger.
A little less lost.