Maestro

By Matilda Martel

Music enslaves the Maestro, Passion liberates the Muse
Marek Misiak is a composer and maestro of one of the most prominent orchestras in the country. Music is his life. His only love. But his phantom muse has abandoned him. Nothing inspires him. He’s chased perfection his whole life and settled for a life of mediocrity.
Aria Romero is a prodigy, a cellist virtuoso, who hides her talent from a father still mourning the death of his cellist wife.
Music is not practical. Nothing good will come from it.
When Marek meets Aria and hears her play, he finally hears true perfection. The echoes of angels. Inspiration returns. Fate has brought them together. Two halves are whole.
Attraction is instant, love is fated, but she can’t risk having her secret discovered.
Marek won’t be dissuaded. Destiny will prevail. The Maestro will have his Muse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matilda Martel
• Release date: Feb 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005831127

Matilda Martel

Matilda loves many things---her husband, dachshunds, cats, the two terrible Chihuahuas who live with her, Paris, New York, a few select friends and family, Nutella, books, lots and lots of books, and writing sweet, steamy romance for nerdy girls-- because that's who I am.If you like your romances steamy but sweet. Sexy, but on the shorter side. With smart and sassy heroines who fall for soulful Alphas- then you might like my books.I write A LOT of OMYW, cause that's just my bag. But no matter what kind of story it is, my ladies are always adored and my endings are always HEA.Please head to my blog: www.matildamartel.com, to learn what's in the final stages and will be coming out soon!Want a free Ebook? Join my mailing list to get my monthly newsletter at : www.matildamartel.com/mailinglist/

Book preview

Maestro

Copyright © 2020 by Matilda Martel

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

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For my mother who introduced me to all the great maestros and for all my crazy aunts

Summary

Music enslaves the maestro. Passion liberates the muse 

Marek Misiak is a composer and maestro of one of the most prominent orchestras in the country. Music is his life. His only love. But his phantom muse has abandoned him. Nothing inspires him. He’s chased perfection his whole life and settled for a life of mediocrity. 

Aria Romero is a prodigy, a cellist virtuoso, who hides her talent from a father still mourning the death of his cellist wife. Music is not practical. Nothing good will come from it. 

When Marek meets Aria and hears her play, he finally hears true perfection. The echoes of angels. Inspiration returns. Fate has brought them together. Two halves are whole. 

Attraction is instant, love is fated, but she can’t risk having her secret discovered.  

Marek won’t be dissuaded. Destiny will prevail. 

The maestro will have his Muse. 

This is an older man younger woman steamy romance, with two soul mates brought together by a love of music and passion for each other. As always, there is a guaranteed happy ending! 

Contents

1. Marek

2. Aria

3. Marek

4. Aria

5. Marek

6. Aria

7. Marek

8. Aria

9. Marek

10. Aria

11. Marek

12. Aria

13. Marek

14. Aria

15. Marek

16. Aria

17. Marek

18. Aria

19. Marek

20. Epilogue- Two Years Later

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About the Author

Chapter 1

Marek

Music is my life--- it's my only love. It feeds my soul, breaks my heart, and awakens my spirit. This is the way it's always been for me. Since I was a boy, I've chased the perfect tune—the perfect note. I've come close, but it forever escapes me. I am not a Mozart---I wasn't born with natural ability. Every morning, I practice. Before I shower or eat, I practice maintaining my skill. 

Since I was seven, I've fought and sacrificed, practicing ritually for thirty-five years. The piano is unforgiving. The violin is vindictive. I live in a constant battle to improve, perfect, and, on good days, compose.  

But my muse has abandoned me. 

If she was ever real, she has moved on to another. 

No doubt, I've disappointed her with my mediocrity. It's been six months since I've been struck by a rhythm that builds a melody and transforms into music fit for public consumption. And after all this time, I fear she's left me for good. 

At 10:00 a.m., I travel to work. It isn't far; most days, I can walk from my brownstone to Lincoln Center. Today was not one of those days. Thunder shook me awake in the middle of the night, and the rains have yet to cease. Except for missing my walk, I don't mind. The weather matches my mood. 

Perhaps I have a Polish disposition, after all.

With summer approaching, I need to get through our busiest season before I finally have a few months off to devote to composition. I'm unsure I can stomach our yearly parade of visiting prima donnas, but the visiting maestros will provide a few weeks of rest. I love my job, but I love music more. Even the most beautiful overtures lose their sparkle when you're forced to dissect them to their bones, night after night, to ensure everyone begins and ends at precisely the right moment. 

No wonder I can't write anything. My senses are dulled and bored to death. 

I march into the center, determined to reach my office before someone approaches and frustrates me with needless questions. Typically, it comes from all sides. Diego, my principal violinist, the concertmaster who makes my job a bit easier by leading the pre-rehearsal in my absence, generally accosts me when I enter the building. 

My assistant, Bernice, hits me with a barrage of notes from musicians ratting out their peers every morning. Most of the time, these nuisances go away with the wave of my hand or slamming the door in their face, but today is different. Today, Duncan Young, the CEO of the Philharmonic, greets me the moment I step into the building. That's never a good sign. 

Marek, I need a favor. He joins me as I walk. 

Apparently. What do you need? His presence this early is