The piano had been delivered, and Gabriel had seen to its proper placement for her. And was wiping it down when she entered Court.

Walking up to it, a hand placed on the wood, dark, smooth and perfect. Dark eyes take in the piano, a concert piano, the best money could buy. Everything handpicked over the phone with the company, everything made special for her hands.

Had she been breathing; her heart would be a flutter with excitement. It had been years, too many to count, since she had last played. Classically trained as a young girl in Italy, she had been the pride of her mother at events and fundraisers. Requests from other families for her to play at parties and gatherings were constant.

Sitting, she rested her long fingers on the keys, not ivory, but a synthetic, and closes her eyes. Her mind taking her back to her childhood, to the lessons, to the joy she felt when she played. To the applause of those who had heard her play, the pride she felt.

Could she feel that again? Or had it been too long?

Sliding forward, to the edge of the bench, her inked fingers began to dance across the keys, eyes still closed, playing from memory. Her back was perfectly straight, arms relaxed as fingers moved.

As each note hit her ears, her head slightly nods along, dark hair falling over her face, the music flowing through her body. Her fingers moved with grace, not playing but caressing the keys. There were notes that were missed, but that was to be expected. She had to relearn the pieces she played, but it was there. The memory was small, but it was there.