Beatrice hesitated, but she knew that that was her chance to know him more. She would definitely regret it if she didn't ask him. "Yes," she said firmly. "I need to know."
However, instead of answering the question, Gilbert's long fingers glided over the ivory keys of the grand piano, with such skill and emotion that Beatrice could feel her heart melting. She sat beside him, watching his face as he played, transfixed by the passion and intensity that radiated from him.
The scent of polished wood and fresh flowers mingled together, adding to the ambiance of the room. She watched as Gilbert's chest rose and fell with each breath, his brow furrowed in concentration, lost in the music.
His brown hair seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, and his emerald eyes glinted with an intense fire that she couldn't help but be drawn to. It was as if time itself had stood still, leaving only the beauty of the music and the passion in their hearts.
