CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Hours later, Kace pulls me into his bed and his arms.
I settle into the hard lines of his body, and I don’t remember a time in my life before this when a day drifted into a sense of belonging and peace. I don’t even remember falling asleep. There is just a blink of twilight that wakes me up. Now, I’m on my side, with Kace wrapped around me from behind. A smile touches my lips and I close my eyes, but somehow the impending meeting with Walker Security pierces my mind. I will it away, and while slumber begins to seduce me, so does a memory. I’m suddenly back in time, back to the months before Gio disappeared, at least this time—
My coffee steams in a cup next to me, while the soft leather of my favorite brown chair in the store hugs me. A book sits in my lap, guiding me through the ins and outs of the most expensive comic books in the world, for a client meeting. A client I’m trying to win and to do so, I need to impress them with my knowledge and convince him that I’m the one to help him complete his massive comic collection. That means understanding a value which can be quite pricy. A Superman “Action Comics” #1 sold for three-point-two million dollars. I’ve decided I like Superman much more than Batman, and not because of the three-point-two million dollars. Batman’s bad attitude and disappearing act remind me of my brother. He’s been gone for three days. He’s not taking my calls and while sure he’s played the Invisible Man a few times in the past, he’s never cut off communication in the process. I can’t help but worry but then, it’s probably a new woman. There’s always a new woman. Or maybe there are several or a mix of old and new. A player’s gonna play and all that stuff.
I sip my coffee and part of me thinks he’s smarter than me. He avoids commitment by the necessity of our family name, but at least he does so in a way that doesn’t leave him alone and cold in bed. I, on the other hand, am always alone and cold, no matter the heat of summer. In fact, I think I should buy a new mattress. It’s my only companion. It should be a top-notch one. I glance at my watch, almost eleven. I was up at five AM to prepare for a breakfast meeting and that cold, lonely bed is calling me. I’ve just set my cup back down when the locks on the security system buzz. I straighten, certain this is Gio finally coming home. Either that or I’m about to be robbed by someone who knows the security code. I set the book down and the door opens, but no one enters.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hear Gio demand, his tone low, and gruff. This isn’t a moment of jest at all. The door shuts again with him on the other side. I stand up waiting for it to open, not sure who he could possibly be talking to. A client? Someone he outbid on a collectible? A friend that isn’t such a good friend that I don’t know? Seconds tick into minutes, and I begin to worry, which morphs into pacing. I’m just about to head for the door and go outside to check on him when Gio walks in, his dark hair windblown, cheeks pinched with the mix of August heat and I suspect anger. He’s in black jeans and a black jacket, neither of which I recognize.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“Who was what?” he counters, playing dumb, and I don’t miss the thick shadow on his jaw that tells me he hasn’t shaved since he left.
I fold my arms in front of me. “I heard you snap at someone.”
“Someone who is no one you want to know,” he says, immediately changing the subject. “Why are hovering in the lobby at this time of night?”
“Why are you incapable of answering your phone or text messages?”
“I lost my phone. I ordered a new one that should be in here in the morning.”
“You didn’t think about finding a way to contact me?” I challenge. “I was worried.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” He closes the space between me and him, halting in front of me, the sticky-sweet scent of perfume clinging to him and the air around him.
“You smell like you dropped your phone in someone’s bedroom.”
His lips quirk. “You would do well to do the same. It might make you relax at least marginally.” He reaches in his pocket, to produce an envelope he hands me. I glance down to gape at a wad of cash and then back up at him. “What is this?”
“I wasn’t just off fucking around. I made a large sale for the business. And on that note, I’m going to bed.” He leans down and kisses my temple. “Night, sis.” He steps around me and I thumb through the cash.
Rotating I call out, “What did you sell? There’s at least fifty thousand in cash here.”
He pauses at the railing and turns to look at me. “Seventy-five. It was a high-priced piece of art. The client wanted the deal off the books.”
“Was the art stolen?”
“What the fuck, Aria? You know me. Do you think I’d steal something?”
“I know you wouldn’t steal, but did someone else?”
“I didn’t ask why the client wanted to deal in cash, but we’re depositing the money and claiming it on our store ledgers. I’ll log the deal on the books in the morning.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is an answer. Be happy. That’s a sweet payday we needed. I have a good feeling about the future.” He heads up the stairs.
I stare after him, nervous about all of this—his disappearing act, the cash, and his behavior in general, but still, he’s home. He’s safe. And I love Gio, which is why I call out, “I’m happy because you’re home.”
He leans over the railing and gives me one of his big ol’ Gio charming grins. “Me, too, sis. Me, too.” He winks and disappears from sight.
I stare after him again.
Art.
That description stands out to me.
Our father used to call a magnificent instrument “art.”
Please, Gio, whatever you’re up to, and I know you’re up to something, be careful.
I blink awake and sit up to the sound of Kace’s violin coloring the morning hour with his beautiful musical notes. His music is art. His skill is art. His composition this morning of Paganini’s “Caprice No. 24,” is a brilliant work of art. It’s also one the most difficult pieces to play in existence and he owns it. And for that reason alone, any other time I’d revel in this breathtaking way to wake up, but not now. I’m still too in the past, too in my memory of some kind of art Gio sold for seventy-five thousand dollars. He never told me what he sold. I pushed and he dodged. My lashes lower and I slide back into that memory. He smelled like perfume. The same perfume I’d smelled in the store the other night.
I throw off the blanket, and hurry into the bathroom, zipping through a short morning routine of necessities which include brushing my teeth and face. Not much more. I’m still in Kace’s T-shirt when I hurry back to the bedroom and find my suitcase that Kace brought up for me last night, pull out my slippers, and then grab the bag I’d packed in Gio’s office. Sitting on a loveseat next to the patio doors, I open the bag, pull out the letter from Sofia I’d found in Gio’s desk, and read it again. Something about Sofia’s words nags at me and I can’t quite name why. Kace’s violin goes silent and with the letter in hand, I hurry to the door, rushing down the stairs.
I find Kace’s violin, but not Kace.
Certain he’s in the kitchen, I pad up the stairs, and sure enough, Kace is there, fully dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, with his back to me while he pours coffee. Closing the space between us, he turns as I reach the island across from him.
“Morning, gorgeous,” he greets, his blue eyes warm, while my cheeks are warmer with the compliment. “I’d say I hope I didn’t wake you,” he adds, walking to the fridge and opening it, “but we have Savage and Blake here in an hour, plus our lunch with Mark and Crystal.”
My eyes go wide. “An hour? What time is it?”
“Nine. They arrive at ten.” He returns and pours creamer in the cup and then hands it to me. “You were knocked out though, so I let you sleep.” He rounds the island and pulls out two stools for us. “That’s an Italian bean coffee,” he says, indicating the mug as we bot
h sit down, angling toward each other. “You were young when you left, but I thought it might give you a little taste of home.”
My heart swells with his thoughtfulness and he watches me expectantly. I set the letter down and sip the warm, wonderful brew. “It’s perfect. I don’t remember it from home, but now this taste will always make me think of Italy.”
We’re close, our knees touching, his hands settling possessively, warmly on my leg and I can almost feel our bond growing. “One day,” he says, “when all of this is over, I’ll take you home, baby.”
As if my heart wasn’t full enough this morning with this man, he now has it overflowing. “I’d like that very much.”
“Good. It’s a date then, and I have a good feeling about where this meeting takes us today.”
“About the meeting,” I say. “I remembered something that may be important, Kace.”
“Something good I hope?” he asks.
“No. It doesn’t feel good. Not at all. Remember I said that there was a perfume smell in the store when the security system had those hiccups?”
“I do,” he confirms.
“Well, a few months before Gio disappeared, he came home after being gone for three days. He handed me an envelope of cash, a lot of cash.” From there, I recap the entire memory, the person he confronted outside. The reference to “art.” The missing phone. “But here’s the thing,” I say, wrapping up. “He smelled like perfume. The same perfume that I smelled in the store the morning after you stayed. I’m sure of it. I can’t believe I didn’t remember it until now.”
“You think it’s this Sofia person,” he assumes.
“I don’t know what to think, but I believe someone was in the store. I believe it was someone who was with Gio those three days.”
“And they didn’t get what they wanted,” he supplies.
“Exactly. Which is pretty disconcerting. Why are they here, looking for answers here with me, when Gio’s at the heart of all of this? Where is Gio?” I slide the letter to him. “Read that, please.”
He grabs my cup and sips before he glances down. He reads maybe a line at most and sets the cup aside, eyeing me. “I feel like I’m invading his privacy.”
“Yeah me, too, but I still need you to read it.”
He gives a quick nod and starts to read again. I have the letter memorized I’ve read it so many times. In my mind, I repeat Sofia’s words:
When you touch me, I tremble. When I close my eyes and you’re not here, I remember your touch, your hands on my body, your tongue on my skin. And when you kiss me, as silly as it might sound, I melt. I go places with you, do things with you that I never knew I could welcome in my life. But it’s all about you. It’s all about what you make me feel.
I know you feel that I’ve become your “reckless note” in the never-ending pursuit of a story you cannot leave without a proper ending. But that’s just it. I’m part of this story now. I’m part of your story. And I never meant for any of this to happen. I couldn’t know that we’d meet and the world would spin beneath my feet, and somehow ignite a million shades of beauty in my life. I couldn’t know that I’d change how you saw, well, everything.
Please don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.
I don’t know who I am without you anymore.
We will find the answers you need together. We will find your family “recipe.” I wasn’t lying. The answers you need can be found with me and at the Riptide Auction House. I promise you. Come see me. I won’t keep secrets any longer. I’m done with secrets.
Love forever,
Sofia
I sip the coffee and Kace glances up at me. “That’s an intense letter. I have questions.”
I set the cup down. “That’s how I feel, too, and I’ve read it about a hundred times. I thought the ‘come see me’ thing meant at Riptide, but that isn’t the case.”
“We’ll talk to Mark and Crystal about her.” I open my mouth to object and he holds up a hand. “We can do that without telling them who you are. And after you figure out how much you want to tell Walker. Because I think they need to be in on all of these things. Obviously, he busted her telling lies and maybe even fell in love with her.”
That idea punches hard. “And I didn’t even know her. He never so much as said her name to me.” I press my hand to my forehead. “The divide between us these past few months was about his need to hunt our heritage. She replaced me in that hunt. And perhaps to his demise.”
He rounds the island and pulls me close, stroking hair behind my ear. “Don’t think like that. He’s disappeared before and reappeared. “
“It feels different and maybe if I would have listened to him instead of shutting him down—”
“You didn’t cause the divide. It just happened, baby. The past and family are pulling you both, and at the time, with two different perspectives in your minds. You know that, right?”
“I just want him to come home.” I pick up the letter. “She’s the answer. I know she is.”
“Then we’ll find her. One way or another, we’ll find Sofia.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Kace hangs out in the kitchen to make a few business calls while I rush through my shower and make-up, dressing for our meeting with Mark and Crystal in my go-to black slacks, heels, and a black silk blouse. Once my lips are painted pink and glossed, I grab the bag I’d collected of Gio’s things and head downstairs. I’m halfway to the living room when the doorbell rings. Kace hurries down the kitchen stairwell and we meet in the center of the two stairwells in the living room.
“I’m nervous,” I declare, catching his waist and leaning into him, some remote part of me aware of how easily I now touch him. I’m comfortable with Kace in ways that defy all my walls and worries. Walker Security is another story. “It’s just Savage and Blake Walker we’re meeting with, right?”
“Right,” he confirms, folding me into the warmth of his body. “Relax, baby. Say only what you feel comfortable saying. I believe in Walker, but you are the one who matters here. You need to believe in them, too.” He kisses my forehead and sets me away from him. “I’d better go let them in. We’ll meet here in the living room.” As if driving home his words, the doorbell rings again and he heads in that direction.
No less nervous than moments before, I walk further into the living room and sit down on a chair, letting the bag holding Gio’s items settle by my feet. My mother’s voice plays in my mind. One reckless note can change everything. Is this my reckless note?
I pop to my feet and step to the window, with a stunning view of the Hudson River before me. The entire apartment floats on water, delivering the kind of view any normal person savors, and yet this morning I’ve managed to remain oblivious.
Male voices sound, growing rapidly closer and I whirl around to find myself the single female in a room of combustible testosterone. All three men stand on the opposite side of the couch, lined up for my personal inspection. Kace is, of course, gorgeously male, while Savage is physically imposing. Blake Walker is no slouch either, though. He’s tall, dark, and rather deadly looking, but good looking for sure, his dark hair tied at his nape. “Aria,” he greets. “I’m Blake Walker. I’d like to talk to you alone.”
He’s managed to set my wheels spinning on an axle in about thirty seconds. My gaze jerks to Kace’s in question. “You need to know if you trust him, baby,” he says, “because you trust him, not because I do.”
He’s right. I give a quick nod. Kace closes the space between me and him, his back to the other two men, his hand on my hip, voice low. “I’ll be in the kitchen. If you need me—”
“I know.” It’s a statement of trust. Our near break-up might have rattled us and our personal baggage created our own version of cages, but it also left me solidly planted in his life, perhaps more so than in my own.
“Good,” he says softly, a small smile on his face as he backs away.
He rejoins Savage and Blake on the oth
er side of the couch. “If he pisses you off,” Savage says, “just kick him in the balls. It’s his weak spot.”
“Last I looked, you were my weak spot, Savage,” Blake snipes back.
“Love is a weakness, man, but it’s also a strength,” Savage replies. “It’s okay that you love me. Don’t fear the love.”
He and Kace fade back into the room and Blake shakes his head. “He’s a piece of work but he’s a damn good piece of work. Believe me, you want him on your team.”
“He’s grown on me,” I admit. “I like how stupid and intimidating he is.”
“You definitely got a taste of Savage,” he says, rounding the couch to sit down in the center.
I know he sits to give me the power, but I don’t care about power. I care about trust. I take his cue and claim the chair to his left. “Why are we talking alone?” I ask. “You clearly have a reason. What is it?”
“I won’t talk in circles,” Blake says frankly. “You’re right. I have a reason but before I share that reason, I need you to understand my level of skill that has nothing to do with ego. It has everything to do with what I have to say to you.”
“I’d rather just get to the reason, but I’m listening.”
“I’m a highly sought-after hacker. Governments, private clients, and leaders across the world hire me for those skills. I can find things out easily that others cannot, but I always remind people that if I can find out, there is someone else who can, too.”
My throat goes dry. “You know who I am.”
“Yes. I know who you are.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, body angled toward mine. “Aria Stradivari.”
I launch myself to my feet, my fingers curling in my palms. He stands as well, but without my urgency. “How?’
“Skill. I am not a danger to you, Aria. I could care two flips about the creation of the Stradivarius instruments. I do, however, care about people. You need help. I want to help.”
“How do I know that I can trust you?”
“For starters, logic. I already know who you are. I’m telling you that upfront. To do otherwise felt like manipulation and dishonesty despite the fact that I knew it would set you on edge before you got to know me.”
A Wicked Song Page 12
