A Reckless Note

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  “Perfect. I want to hear all about you and Kace.” She motions to a waitress. “Two of my usual, Claire, please,” she calls out and then refocuses on me. “I’m a regular here, as you can imagine. It’s close but it’s also wonderful.”

  “It’s cozy.”

  “Exactly,” she agrees. “That’s one of the things I love about it and it’s never overly packed. Here in the city, that can be hard to find.”

  My phone buzzes with a text and I can’t help it. My nerves jolt with the idea that this could be Gio. Or not. It could be bad news. I grab my phone and breathe out in relief and disappointment to find the message is from Alexander and it reads: Let’s talk about the wine. Can we meet tonight?

  “Everything okay?” Crystal asks, real concern in her voice.

  “Sorry,” I say, sighing. “It’s Alexander. Apparently, he and my client know each other. It’s gotten complicated. He wants to meet tonight.”

  “Tell him to come here. He knows where it’s at. The Red Bar.”

  I hesitate. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. You have to take care of business.”

  The waitress delivers our drinks, which look more like dessert, with chocolate drizzles and fancy glasses. I text Alexander the location and scoop chocolate from the rim of the glass onto my finger. “This looks like a perfect formula for drinking too much for my own good because it tastes too good.”

  “Well, there is that, but never fear. I’m here. I’ll protect you.”

  It’s something a true friend would say. Something it feels like we might become if I let us, but is that selfish? Do I put her at risk because of who I am? My phone buzzes again and I glance down and back up. “He’s on his way. Thank you, Crystal.”

  She waves that off. “What are friends for if not to help you maneuver the Alexanders of the world? And I feel like we’re going to be fast friends.” She motions to my drink. “Now. Try the martini. I’m dying to see what you think.”

  I pick up the glass and smile. “I don’t even have to taste it to know it’s good.” But I do. I sip and the sweet perfect liquid teases my tongue and hides the alcohol. “It’s dangerously good,” I say. “I’ll be drunk and not even know it.”

  “That’s the joy of New York City.” She grins. “We are never behind the wheel. We hire a car or hop on the subway.”

  I laugh and take another sip and good grief I can already feel the alcohol, a wave of loopiness threatening to take hold. As if she reads that moment, Crystal says, “So, what’s the story with you and Kace?”

  “Right to the point,” I laugh.

  She sips from her glass. “Is there any other way?”

  “No, actually, I love your directness but there is no story. We just keep running into each other.”

  He arches a brow. “And?”

  “And nothing.” Now I sip from my glass, a generous sip, at that. I’m clearly going to need all the help I can get to continue this conversation.

  Crystal sets her glass aside. “That, whatever that was I just witnessed between you two, was not nothing. I’ve known that man for years. I told you. He’s reserved. That was not Kace August being reserved.”

  “I don’t think he’s as reserved as you might think he is with fans.”

  “If that’s the route we’re taking, I’m a vocal fan as well, but he doesn’t look at me like he was just looking at you.”

  “I don’t even know what you mean.”

  “He gave you bedroom eyes. I mean, I was melting right there in the same room with you two.”

  I open my mouth and shut it again. I don’t even know what to say. He’s hot and then cold. He’s touching me and then he’s just gone. “I think you’re reading more into whatever you think you saw, than is real.”

  “I’m not, I’m absolutely not, but I’ll let it go.” She grabs a file and sets it on the table. “This is your VIP package. You have expanded details on each item, including the violin.”

  “Who did the validation?”

  “Ruth Othman. Do you know her?”

  “I do,” I say and my lips thin with good reason. I’ve spent years of my life secretly learning from my father’s diaries and drawing. I know a true Stradivarius violin. I’ve studied Othman’s work and while she, and many others, believe in her accuracy, I, as a member of the Stradivari family, know better. She’s often wrong.

  “Is it possible for me to get a look at the violin before the auction?” I ask.

  “There’s quite a collection of photos in the folder and we’ll allow everyone bidding a closer look on the evening of the auction.”

  “Not until the night of the auction?”

  “It’s a long-standing rule when we’re dealing with high-value items at risk for damage or theft. And this seller has specific rules he expects us to follow.”

  “Who’s the seller?”

  “He wishes to remain anonymous to protect the remainder of his collection.”

  Sofia, I think. Could it be Sofia? No. That makes no sense but this whole situation feels off in some obvious way I’m missing, but not as it relates to Crystal herself, which is why I let it go. For now. “Do I need to fill out anything else?”

  “You’re all done,” she says.

  “Wonderful.” I slide the folder into my bag and then sip my martini. “How long have you been at Riptide?”

  “Seven years. It’s really a second home. Mark’s mother ran the auction house and I was her right hand until Mark joined the company.”

  “And it was love at first sight?”

  She snorts. “Oh what a story that is. I don’t know you well enough yet to tell it.”

  “Now you’re killing me with curiosity.” We talk and laugh a bit about Mark’s asshole persona, but it doesn’t last long before she comes full circle. “Back to Kace,” she says.

  I shake my head and laugh. “Really?” I take another long drink. “Why Kace?”

  “Because I saw how you looked at him, too.”

  I wave that off. “Please. I’m in awe of the man’s talent.” I settle my chin on my hand. “His music is magical.” My mind slips back to the stage and me in the center of the room while he played, my lashes lowering as I hear the violin in my head. “Kace is just—” A tingling sensation slides over me and I glance up to find Kace standing over us, but his eyes aren’t on us, they’re on me.

  He arches a brow. “I’m just what, Aria?”

  I’m so busted. I grab my glass and down my drink. Crystal bursts out in giggles. “I need to run to the ladies’ room.” She stands up and catches Kace’s arm to murmur something to him that I’m not privy to before walking away. Kace slides into the booth across from me and flags down the waitress. “Whiskey sour,” he says and motions to my glass. “Another?”

  “God no,” I say. “I can barely feel my face right now.”

  He laughs and so does the waitress before she walks away. “I’m not staying or intruding,” I quickly say. “I’m about to leave.”

  “Don’t,” he says.

  “Don’t?”

  “Don’t leave.”

  It’s exactly what he’d said to me at the bakery and as I sit here, drowning in his stare, I’m not even close to leaving. He leans forward. “What did the song mean to you?”

  The alcohol has loosened my tongue and my answer comes quickly with no reserve. “Life. Death. Passion. Pleasure. Happiness. Sadness. Loss.”

  His eyes flicker and burn with what I don’t expect, but after listening to him play, should have expected: understanding. “Then I was right,” he declares. “It was personal.”

  I forget the denial that will get me nowhere anyway. “Very,” I say simply.

  “Your reaction wasn’t about me at all,” he repeats. “I like that.”

  My brows furrow. “Why?”

  “Because it was about the music, just the music. Because your reaction was raw and real. That’s not easy to find.”

  I lea
n in closer, and dare to speak what I feel. “Every time you play, it’s raw and real, Kace August.”

  “And that matters to me coming from you because I know you mean it. And because I can tell that you truly love the violin. Do you play?”

  “Not since I was a small child,” I confess when I would never admit this to anyone else, but he’s Kace August, and the world around him sees him, not me. And at least tonight, with a little drink down me, that idea is liberating, it’s freedom I embrace.

  “Do you want to play?”

  “As a child, but now, like millions of other people, I’d rather listen to you play.”

  “I’m not thinking about millions of other people,” he says, his voice low, almost seductive. “I’m thinking of you. I’m right here with you.”

  Until he’s not again, I think. “And that,” I say, “is exactly how you make everyone feel when you play.”

  “I’m more interested in how I make you feel. Now. Right now.”

  Heat spikes in the air, sizzling between us and that confusion he stirs in me sears me right along with the heat in his stare. Heat I can no longer dismiss as mine alone. It’s here. It’s real. It’s—

  “Aria.”

  At the sound of Alexander’s voice, I cringe at the timing, and Kace’s gaze jerks up and left. I follow his lead to find Alexander towering over me, dressed in an expensive three-piece suit and wearing a look of expectancy. “Can we have that talk?” he asks.

  The air cuts and bleeds with Kace’s energy and when I look at him, his expression is closed, unreadable.

  Crystal picks that moment to return as if she’d seen the disaster in the making, and dove right in to save the day. Kace stands up to allow her to access the booth and when he does, he steps into Alexander and speaks, his voice low, for Alexander’s ears only.

  I push to my feet and when Kace turns, he’s between me and Alexander, his lashes half veiled, his jaw hard. There is something between him and Alexander, something that isn’t even close to good. I open my mouth to speak and then press my lips together. I can’t assume this reaction has anything to do with me. Kace and I are not dating. We barely know each other. In fact, he hasn’t even asked for my phone number.

  I turn away from him and grab my purse, glancing at Crystal. “Thanks for the drinks and everything.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she promises.

  “Sounds good,” I murmur, and Kace sits back down, effectively clearing my path to Alexander.

  As silly as it may seem, it feels like a reminder that it’s always about the moment with Kace, only the moment. And another moment is over.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I follow Alexander to a small table still in view of Kace and Crystal, where we sit down. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.

  “No, thank you,” I say. “I’ve had my share. I’d rather talk about wine than drink it or anything else right now.” I glance left as Mark and a several others join Crystal and Kace.

  “He’s not what he seems,” Alexander says, obviously catching my quick look in that direction or maybe it’s more about whatever Kace said to him.

  “And neither are you,” I rebut, not about to start dissecting people for being something they don’t seem when I’m not what I seem, either. “Ed says you know him.”

  “I do,” he agrees, and when the waitress joins us, he pauses to order a whiskey before glancing at me. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

  “Not if you want to actually talk, but again, thank you.”

  He nods and even before the waitress leaves us alone again, his gaze lands heavily on me. “I want something from Ed. We have a deep history. You’re caught in the crossfire.”

  This, I know immediately, is bad news for me and my sale. I already see it coming. “We aren’t getting that wine Ed wants, are we?”

  “No, but I came with a peace offering.” He reaches into his jacket and hands me a notecard. “Bottles I want. I’ll pay you five percent more than he does in commission.”

  Suspicion flares hard and fast. “Why?”

  “Because I’m not the asshole you think I am. Because I know this is how you make your living and I sincerely feel bad that you’re stuck in the crossfire.”

  I’m not that easily sold and I make sure he knows. “In exchange for what?”

  “Nothing at all. Do I want to take you to dinner? Yes. But this deal is not contingent on you saying yes, now or ever. I like my wines. You’re obviously resourceful. This is quid pro quo in a strictly business sense. What do you say?”

  I grab the list and scan the bottles he’s listed. It’s a big list and while I don’t know many of the bottles by name, I have no doubt they’re all high-dollar.

  “I’m not the bad guy here,” he adds. “I’m not. Ed—” he cuts his stare and then glances back at me, “it’s personal. Really, deeply personal between he and I.”

  There’s a cut of emotion—of loss, I think—in his stare and with it, a shift in how I feel about this man. I don’t ask for details. I long ago learned that when I ask intimate questions of someone, they then ask intimate questions of me. “And you think buying the wines before he does beats him?”

  “No. No, I don’t.” He doesn’t offer more, but he doesn’t have to. I get it.

  “It’s part of a bigger plan,” I say.

  “Possibly,” he replies noncommittally.

  I glance down at the list again and back up at him. “You want me to work for you so I won’t work for him?”

  “I’m not asking you to drop him as a customer.”

  “But you’ll outbid him.”

  “All’s fair in love and war, but I’m not big on innocent victims. I want you to make the money back he promised you.”

  Maybe he means that. Maybe he doesn’t. I don’t know. What I do know is that I recognize in him something I should have recognized in Gio six weeks back: a hunger for revenge. I’m just not sure why that flared in my brother now, after all this time. Sofia, I think. This has something to do with Sofia. “Do you know a Sofia?”

  “Sofia? No. Should I? Who is she?”

  “Someone my brother mentioned having a lot of hot tips for hard-to-find items.” It’s my turn to offer nothing more. I return to his request. My first inclination is to decline his offer, but I also need money to find my brother. I indicate his list in my hand. “I’ll think about it.” And with that, I stand up and grab my purse.

  I glance at the table where Crystal and Mark sit in deep conversation with Kace. Chris is there, too, with a pretty brunette by his side. His wife, of course, and even if Crystal hadn’t told me his wife was coming tonight, I’d know that’s who she was instantly. His arm is around her and he nuzzles her neck. She cups his face and there is this connection between them I can’t explain, a deep burning bond. My chest tightens with the idea that I’ve never allowed myself the chance to experience that kind of bond.

  Kace’s gaze suddenly shifts and lands on me, and I swear there is a punch between us, an awareness that defies every lost moment. Alexander steps to my side. “Can I give you a ride home?”

  I rotate away from Kace to Alexander. “No thanks. I’ve got it covered.”

  “Well then, I’ll just go say hello to Mark.” He winks. “And Kace.”

  I’m not sure what that’s all about, but I don’t stay to find out. I walk toward the door, punch in a call for an Uber that’s only two minutes away, even as the hostess grabs my coat for me. Bundled up, I step into a chilly night that reminds me that the holidays are coming and I can’t live through them without Gio.

  My car is already pulling up to the curb and I chide myself for the hollow feeling of another encounter with Kace that ends just like this, with me on my own, and no promise of more. I have no business being involved with that man. None. Zero. I hurry toward the black sedan and I’ve just opened the door when I hear, “Aria!”

  At the sound of Kace’s voice, my heart leaps, and
my belly burns. I turn to find him running toward me, and now my heart is fluttering rapidly. It’s cold and he’s didn’t bother with his coat, his thin T-shirt, no match for the chill. This tells me that he ran after me. He didn’t let me go. He didn’t let me go. I lean in and speak to the driver. “Give me a minute. I’ll add an extra tip.”

  He nods and I turn as Kace steps in front of me, his hand settling on the top of the door, successfully caging me between his big body and the car.

  “I thought you’d come back by the table,” he says.

  “I didn’t want to intrude.”

  “Alexander is intruding. You wouldn’t have. And—about Alexander.”

  That statement is a stab of reality. He’s not here for me. He’s here because of some battle between the two of them. “What about him?”

  “He’s got an agenda.”

  I bristle, embarrassment heating my cheeks. I actually thought he came out here for me. And I don’t understand this man or what game he’s playing. “What about you, Kace? Do you have an agenda?”

  His eyes darken, burn, heat. His gaze lowers to my mouth and lingers before it lifts. “Yes. I do.” And before I know his intent, he’s stepped into me, tangling fingers into my hair and leaning in close, his breath a warm fan on my lips and cheek. “This,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted to do this every damn second I’ve been with you.”

  Instantly I’m melting like chocolate under the hot sun for this man and doing it in the middle of a cold October wind. I sink into him, his hard body absorbing mine. And then he’s kissing me, his tongue licking against my tongue, a delicious caress that tastes of passion and hunger. His hand slides up my back, molding me closer, possession in that touch that should scare me, but it doesn’t. I’m lost in the intensity of my need for this man, a stranger I should resist, but I can’t remember why. Why was I supposed to resist?

  A horn honks, and Kace pulls back. “You are my only agenda,” he says. “Don’t forget that.” And then he’s setting me away from him, leaving me cold where I was hot only moments before. “Good night, Aria.” He turns and walks away, leaving me panting and stunned.

  What just happened?