Unlikely Harmony by Lily Michaels

Book 3 in the Improbable Bonds series

General Release Date: 27th April 2021

Word Count: 32,368
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 140

Genres:

BONDAGE AND BDSM,CELEBRITIES,CONTEMPORARY,EROTIC ROMANCE,GAY,GLBTQI

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Book Description

In the middle of his darkest moment, Sebastian finds an unexpected light.

Since his immense gift was first discovered, Sebastian Chevalier has led a life of blissful indulgence—crisscrossing the globe to perform to thousands of adoring fans and garnering international attention for putting a modern face on opera—that is until a vocal cord injury steals Sebastian’s most prized possession.

While he rehabilitates, he turns his focus to composing an opera and hires Jasper Lorde to join as his accompanist to help turn his written music into a living creation. Although Jasper is the polar opposite of everything he is normally attracted to, Sebastian finds himself with an overwhelming desire for the man and as he slowly regains his ability to speak, the two men explore the passion building between them.

Once the opera is complete and Sebastian has been cleared to sing, he books a debut at the prestigious LA Opera House. But this decision releases a Pandora’s box of demons for Jasper that threatens their tentative connection.

Reader advisory: This book includes the impact of PTSD and anxiety and reference to a car crash with multiple fatalities.

 

Jasper

 

I blinked slowly as the man with the ramrod-straight back walked away, and I lowered my hand that had been hanging in midair to my side.

The great Sebastian Chevalier was an asshole.

His sister, Siobhan, with eyes an identical shade to Sebastian’s arresting blue ones, pulled my attention from an avalanche of choice epithets to her petite blonde self, still standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry. My brother is… Well, he’s not quite himself.” She swept a hand in a slightly dramatic gesture. “Please come in.”

I swallowed some of my irritation and smiled at the woman. She seemed sweet—even if her brother could easily win a contest for Red Cedar’s Biggest Douchebag—and she definitely didn’t deserve the anger he sparked in me.

It wasn’t even all Sir Dickhead’s fault, either. As always, when I made a trip anywhere beyond walking range of my apartment, my nerves were frayed, leaving me in a shitty mood. Ten years, countless hours of therapy and possibly overindulgent use of coping techniques had still never fully healed the emotional scars I carried that ran so much deeper than the physical ones.

“Thanks.” I crossed the threshold, setting Phoebe down for a moment to shrug out of my lightweight jacket.

And I focused on keeping my face genial—or at the very least mostly expressionless. I certainly could not allow the laughter threatening to break through and escape as I took stock of the entry hall of the giant brick structure. It looked like a damned museum, with not an ounce of personality but plenty of ornate porcelain that looked so delicate I was almost afraid to release my next breath.

After taking the jacket I’d shed, she hung it in a closet that was discreetly located behind a faux wall. She glanced down the hallway before offering a bright smile, slight worry tinging her eyes. “Let’s sit in the kitchen and have a little chat. You can feel free to leave your violin here.”

Bending to grip her handle protectively was reflex. Instinct. “I’d, ah, prefer to keep her with me, if you don’t mind.”

Tinkling laughter met my response. “That’s fine. I am well used to musicians and their torrid love affairs with their instruments.”

Some of the tension seeped out of my shoulders and I followed her down the hall and to the left into a kitchen that somehow managed to blend modern conveniences with old-world decor seamlessly and beautifully. Even though it was much more dramatic than my normally understated, minimalistic taste, I had to give credit to the designer.

“I appreciate your understanding, but Phoebe’s and my relationship is committed and monogamous and has been that way for more than a decade.” I winked at her. “Nothing torrid about us.”

She waved a hand toward the white table and stood behind the island nearby, setting a kettle on a burner. “Do you drink tea? Or would you prefer coffee?”

I set Phoebe and her case on the floor and took a seat in one of the high-backed chairs. “Ah, neither? I don’t do caffeine, but I’d love some ice water.”

Her mouth opened just as the sparkling pink phone resting on the counter near her chirped to life. She picked up the device and frowned at the screen for a moment before hastily typing a reply. After setting it down again, she filled a cut-crystal glass with ice and water from the refrigerator’s dispenser and took a seat beside me, sliding the drink in front of me.

“I’m Sebastian’s sister, by the way. Siobhan. We spoke on the phone.” She tilted her head to the side. “Have you seen the news lately? Specifically the entertainment segments?”

I frowned at her, the hand holding the water hovering an inch away from my mouth. I brought the drink the rest of the way to my lips, shook my head and took a long draw. “No,” I said as I replaced the glass on the table, “I don’t watch TV. And as far as celebrity news, my experience is that it’s either wrong or not my business. Why do I care who’s boffing who today?”

Though she tried to hide it, I caught the corners of her mouth twitching with a repressed grin. “No caffeine and no TV. My, my…” Her face sobered and her back straightened. “So my brother has…had some vocal issues lately. Because of his career and fame, it’s rather well known he’s had to cancel several weeks’ worth of performances.”

I inclined my head slightly in a brief acknowledgment and took another sip. “That I was aware of. The classical music world is rather small and filled with horrible gossips. I’ll be honest. I called to confirm earlier because I was certain he’d cancel.”

“Sebby had a vocal-fold hemorrhage.” She toyed with the bracelet on her left wrist. “He’s on strict voice rest for two weeks, but we don’t know when he’ll be able to sing again, to perform.”

The irritation and mild outrage that had flared inside me when we’d first met and Sebastian’s purported surly attitude had been proven true melted away—at least a portion of it. How would I behave if my fingers were broken? If my beloved Phoebe lay dormant, unplayed for weeks?

I’d be depressed.

I’d be inconsolable.

I’d be a miserable bastard.

A small measure of guilt toyed with my stomach, which had been in knots all morning, between knowing I was going to meet Sebastian, a living legend, and just fucking traveling there. I was aware of my own standing in the world of classical music and a wee bit proud of all I’d accomplished, but he was far above me in both notoriety and success. It would have been better if I hadn’t actually listened to all the warnings I’d read in articles online. He certainly had reasons for being the asshole I’d just met.

Empathy for the man washed over me. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what he must be going through.” I rotated the glass on the table. “Not to be rude, but…if he can’t sing, why am I here? I’m supposed to be an accompanist for him as he writes the next great opera, which is clearly not a task he can perform without a voice.”

Siobhan’s clear blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “You don’t know my brother. He has every intention of continuing with the piece. In fact”—she pointed at the phone still resting on the counter—“he sent me a text telling me to make you aware of his…’condition’ and to tell you that he expects you to meet him in the music room in five minutes.”

I raised my eyebrows at the edict that had been issued. Maybe Sebastian’s attitude was more his baseline than I was trying to believe. Demanding, that one. “Well, let’s not keep him waiting.” I rose to my feet and held out an arm to Siobhan, bending slightly at the waist. “Lead on, Ms. Chevalier.”

Another cheeky grin was her response. “Siobhan. Please.” She stood beside me and patted the two days’ worth of facial hair on my cheek. “I think I’m going to like you.”

I smiled but held my tongue as I trailed behind her. Her crown of golden hair was the same shade as her brother’s, and I fought the irrational wonder that raced through my mind—how Sebastian’s perfectly styled hair would look mussed from fingers threading through it during a passionate kiss.

For probably the eleventy-billionth time since my last trip to Devour, the exclusive kinky gathering place I’d managed to weasel an invite to, the mystery man I’d paired up with there taunted my memory and played in my head.

I shook my head, dispelling the ridiculous notion as I entered the room that housed the grumpy operatic sensation himself with his sister at my side. A wave of intimidation washed over me as I took my place for the mini performance, but I quickly reminded myself of the reward I’d planned. Whether Sebastian Chevalier actually hired me or not, if I managed to deliver the piece the way I knew I could, the way I used to, I’d take another trip to Devour to try to locate the man I’d encountered the last time…and leave with something more than just a smile on my face.

Something like his name.

Sebastian heaved a heavy sigh through his nose and gave me a pointedly bored look that brought back the frantic butterflies swarming through my gut.

Okay, showtime.

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Lily Michaels

Coffee, chocolate, and books make up Lily’s world, often all three at the same time. Whether reading or writing she is a sucker for an over-the-top happily ever after… only following an appropriate amount of pain, of course.

When she is not writing or reading (which is not very often) she enjoys exercising her right brain in non authorly ways such as creating mosaics, crocheting, knitting, scrapbooking, and taking one man’s trash to create something new. But never, ever ask her to draw something. That is a beast best left alone.

You can find Lily on her website here and follow her on Pinterest.

 

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