“You coming, miss?” the driver calls out.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes. I’m coming.” I climb in the car and shut myself inside.
I’m still loose-limbed and melting for Kace, and yet, he’s gone. He still didn’t even ask for my number. He didn’t try to see me again. I don’t understand. I touch my swollen lips and replay his words. You are my only agenda. Don’t forget that.
I don’t know what that means, but next time, I will resist.
If there’s even a next time.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I arrive at my apartment and our store in the midst of a quiet, cold night and a tingling sensation on the back of my neck that has me quickly sealing myself inside. Once the security system is in place, I rest with my back against the door and stare into the shop, absorbing the utter silence, oddly void of the normal creaks and moans of the old building. It’s too quiet and I find myself rejecting the cold, empty space.
I touch my lips again, the taste of Kace August lingering there, heating the chill in my body and momentarily distracting me from the emptiness of the building, of the night. Part of me welcomes his push into my mind, into my life. The other part is all guilt and torment. Gio is what matters right now, not some rock star violinist who kisses me and leaves again.
“Gio!” I call out and hold my breath, waiting for a response that doesn’t come, except for that of my gut telling me that he’s gone, that he’s not coming back.
I vehemently reject that idea and push off of the door, calling out, “Gio!” as I run through the store. “Gio!” I reach the bottom of the stairs. “Gio!”
On some level, I know that I’m acting crazy, but I don’t care. I’m cracking outside and in, cracking and bleeding. “Gio!”
Driven by fear and adrenaline, I run up the stairs and pound on his apartment door to receive no reply. I lean against the wooden surface and slide down the hard surface to the ground, my briefcase falling to the floor with me. The folder Crystal gave me falls out. I reach for it, that violin Riptide is auctioning off my only hope of finding answers right now. I shrug out of my coat and let it fall to the floor.
On my haunches, I flip through the folder and find the photos, scanning each with frustration. The photo I would need to validate it as real doesn’t exist. Somehow, someway, I have to convince Mark Compton to let me see that violin early without telling him I’m part of the Stradivari family and without alerting anyone else to that fact.
***
I’m up at dawn the next morning with every intention of stopping by Riptide and making my case to Crystal for an early viewing of the violin. By eight I’m dressed in black slacks, a turtleneck, and blazer, with my red-bottomed black heels. By eight-thirty I’m at the coffee shop across the street from Riptide when I call Crystal.
“Morning,” she greets. “How’d it go with Alexander?”
“Weird. Can I come by and bring you coffee? I’m right down the road.”
“You will be an absolute goddess if you bring me coffee. I had to come in early this morning.”
Relief washes over me. I have my opportunity. And I like her. A friendly face is welcomed right about now. “What’s your drink?”
“Skinny vanilla latte.”
“And Mark’s?”
“He’s in a meeting. And he’s cut off today. He’s had three cups this morning. Believe me, for Mark, that’s enough.”
“I don’t think I want to know what that means.”
“Exactly,” she agrees.
I laugh, and it’s genuine. There is just something kismet about this new friendship. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
And I am. Exactly fifteen minutes later, I’ve handed off my coat, checked in with Amber at the front desk, and I’m on my way past the receptionist’s desk to Crystal’s office when Kace appears directly in my path. And Lord help me, the man makes black denim and the black leather jacket he’s wearing look like sex walking and walking right for me.
I don’t know what it is about this man, but I’m weak in the knees and my heart is all fluttery. I’ve known good looking and powerful men through my work, but none have affected me like Kace August, who is rapidly approaching. In another two steps, he’s standing in front of me, Mr. Blue Eyes who smells like spice and man in a warm, delicious way.
“Small world yet again,” he says softly.
“I’m not stalking you,” I joke and that’s another thing about Kace. As much as he affects me, I find an easy comfort with him as well.
He laughs at the comment, all low and sultry. “Well then, I’ll have to try to be more interesting.”
“Please don’t,” I say, the comment out before I can stop it. Apparently, he makes me lose my decorum as well.
His lips—very nice, full lips—curve. “You can explain that comment to me when I get back home. I’m leaving for a concert hop, but I’ll be back the night of the auction.”
Unbidden disappointment stabs at me. “You’re leaving.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement, me trying to digest what he’s just announced.
“It’s what I do, Aria,” he murmurs softy. “I tour, but I told you. I’m taking a break soon.” He pauses and I swear he looks at my mouth before he meets my stare and adds, “I’ll see you soon.” And then to my shock, he steps closer, his hand finding my waist beneath my blazer. He leans in close, his lips finding my ear as he whispers to me in Italian, “Mi fai impazzire,” which translates to you drive me crazy. A shiver runs down my spine and when he pulls back, fixing me in that deep blue stare, I’m melting all over again. “See you soon,” he repeats and steps around me to head toward the door.
Breathless now, I will myself not to turn and watch him leave, but I also don’t walk away. I don’t move at all. I’m weak in the knees. I’m warm all over. I’m so hypersensitive to this man that it’s insane. I drive him crazy? He’s driving me crazy. It’s proven by the fact that I’m standing in the center of the lobby of Riptide and I’m not walking. And Lord help me, I’m weak. I turn to watch his departure. It just—happens. He’s at the door now, his back to me, but he doesn’t exit the building. He turns, too, and his gaze lands on me. He lifts a hand and gives me a small wave, and then he leaves. He exits and I really don’t know what just happened. But I’m just standing here holding two cups of coffee, going nowhere.
I force myself to turn back around, to put one foot in front of the other and I arrive at Crystal’s office quickly, where I mentally shake off the encounter before I poke my head around the door and she smiles instantly.
“Morning, sunshine,” she greets, standing and rounding the desk to meet me at the table. “What brings you out this way so early?” she asks, accepting her coffee.
I set my bag in the chair and we both settle into our seats. “Honestly,” I say because honesty feels really good. “To talk to you.”
She wiggles and eyebrow. “About Kace?”
“I’m way too confused about Kace to even begin to talk about him.”
“I was thinking about you saying that’s he’s hot and cold with you.”
As have I, I think, and way too much.
“You have to remember that he’s a public figure,” she continues, “and a lot of people have agendas where he’s concerned. He might be hot, but he burns a cautious slow burn because life has taught him caution is necessary.”
I don’t miss the irony of her words, considering I accused him of having an agenda or the fact that I of all people understand that life lesson and understand it well. “What’s his problem with Alexander?”
“All I know is that they both go way back. Actually, they all do, Mark included, and long before I was around. How did it go with Alexander?”
“He has some personal vendetta with my client. He wants to outbid him on any bottle I find worth buying, which isn’t ethical. I have to choose one or the other.”
“And clearly the highest bidder isn’t what matters to you.”
�
�I won’t deny that I’m motivated by money, because that’s business, but I’m not inclined to get in the middle of a war. I don’t know who did who wrong, but ethically, Ed was my client first.”
“If you’re not in the middle of the war, then business is business. I’d take the higher offer, but then, I do run an auction house. That’s the nature of our business. I can vouch for Alexander, by the way. I don’t know what’s between him and Ed besides you, but he’s good for any promise he makes.”
Besides me, I repeat in my mind. Am I in between Kace and Alexander?
“That reminds me,” Crystal says before I get too far down that rabbit hole. “I have that list of bottles I told you I’d have soon. Unfortunately, they won’t arrive until next month, but they’re prizes.” She sets her coffee down and rushes to her desk and hands me a small envelope. “That’s a top-secret sneak peek.” She sits down.
“Thank you.” I stick the envelope in my bag. “Also, unfortunately, Alexander will likely be bidding and he’s not going to let me win for Ed.”
“You do have a dilemma on your hands.” Her cellphone buzzes with a text and she hurries back to her desk to grab it, groaning. “Duty calls. I need to deal with some new product arriving.”
And just like that my chance to talk to her about the violin is lost. I stand up and grab my bag. I’m about to ask about getting together again, and away from here when she beats me to the punch. “Lunch later this week?”
“I’d love that,” I say, and I would.
She heads for the door and calls over her shoulder, “I’ll call you.”
And then she’s gone, leaving me in her office alone, showing me trust. Because that’s what friends do, I remind myself. They trust each other. And that’s where Gio and I differ. He doesn’t feel like a secret is a lie, but I do. A secret is a lie, the kind that destroys anything real in our lives.
I exit the office and immediately come face to face with the ever stoic and intimidating Mark Compton. “Ms. Alard,” he greets. “I see you’re becoming a regular fixture around here.”
“Crystal and I had coffee,” I say and I swallow all reservations. “Actually,” I add, preparing to make my case the way I’d practiced in bed last night. “I’m glad I ran into you. Crystal had to take off before I could talk to her about something important. My client, the one bidding on the violin, has actually spent time in Italy with one of the Stradivari family members.”
“They’re all dead, Ms. Alard.”
“Actually, just missing since the early 2000s, but fortunately for my client, he was there before that tragedy. He knows how to spot a fake Stradivarius and he’s taught me as well. If I could just—”
“Look at the photos.”
“They’re incomplete,” I argue.
“They’re quite detailed.” He does not sound pleased.
I’m not backing down. I can’t back down. “Not detailed enough.”
“We’ve included an expert validation included in your VIP package.”
“She’s not the expert I’d choose.”
He arches a brow. “Let me guess. You believe you know better than her, an expert.”
“My client is the expert, as am I, through him.”
“You are quite the pushy one, but you won’t win with me, Ms. Alard. You can see the violin when everyone else sees it.” And with that, he steps around me and enters his wife’s office.
I want to follow him, but I leave it alone. I need to talk to Crystal. Decision made, I hurry forward, and just as I’m walking past the front desk, Amber calls my name. “This was left for you.”
Hurrying to the desk, I accept the envelope in her hand, assuming that it’s something Crystal forgot to add to my package. “Thank you.” I shove it in my bag.
Once I’m bundled up and outside, hoping that there might be more photos inside, I step to the side of the door. Grabbing the envelope, I stare at the masculine writing and my belly flutters. I open the flap and pull out a sheet of music, titled, “Aria” and it’s not just music. It’s lyrics: She’s a mystery and a song, a shadow in the light—
My gaze jerks to the bottom of the page, where there’s a note: Just in case you’re wondering, you’re on my mind.
I gasp. My God.
Kace wrote me a song.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I make it two days and most of a night and then, I can’t help myself.
The temptation of Kace August is just too much.
I lay in my bed, in my sexiest cotton pajamas, MacBook in my lap, and google his concert locations, only to discover that he’s now in Germany. My next google has me tabbing through an article on Kace’s event last night. I suck in a sharp breath and sit up straight. There’s a photo of Kace standing with a busty blonde who has her hands all over him. An extremely beautiful busty blonde. And I hate how much that image stabs me right in the heart. I shut my MacBook and set it aside. I was a fool to fall for the song and the Italian seduction. He’s a player, a man with groupies in every country, and most likely a girl at every stop. I’m not the local. I’m not a groupie. I plop down and punch my pillow, but it doesn’t help. I’m embarrassed. I’m hurt. I’ve tunneled into a dark place and it’s really got nothing to do with Kace, and yet, somehow it does. I’m not sure when I fall asleep, but I’m pretty sure I counted ten thousand sheep trying to keep my mind from tormenting me.
When I wake to sunlight and a new day, I firmly set Kace August aside.
I spend the next few days working and working hard. I earn a five-thousand-dollar commission on a lot of Beatles memorabilia I’d been working to acquire for a customer for months. With that goal achieved and money in my account, I find a PI who will work for exactly that down payment. His reviews are good but seem to be heavily weighted by work hunting down cheating spouses. Still, he can do the basics for me. That’s a good start, but I’m smart enough to know that I can’t trust anyone with the full truth of who Gio is and why he could easily be in trouble. I will set up a meeting with the PI if Gio is not at the VIP event. In my mind, that night remains my turning point. If Gio isn’t back by then, he’s in trouble, but logically, I tell myself that anyone who knows who he is won’t want him dead. They need him alive to find the formula for the violin. But if I follow that logic, my father is also alive, which of course can’t be true and I just have to stop going down that rabbit hole.
Gio is not dead.
The end.
With that thought driving my every moment, the days still manage to tick by as slow as molasses, as my mother would have said. Wednesday arrives with me behind the counter, hunting wine for Ed and Alexander. Not that I’ve talked to either. Neither has called and while I’m avoiding that freight train ride into a collision, I need more money. I’ve also identified a couple of bottles each wants that isn’t on the other’s lists.
Come Friday, it’s near closing time when my cellphone rings with a call from Crystal. “Hey you,” I greet. “How are you?”
“Sick,” she says, her voice cracking. “I have some bug. I’ve been sick all week. I just wanted you to know that I’m not ignoring you. We were supposed to have lunch.”
I blink. “You worried about me?”
“I am. Of course, I am. We made plans, but I’m so behind at work I think we’ll have to try that lunch after the auction.”
We chat a bit and when we disconnect, I decide this is for the best. I really do like Crystal and I don’t want her to feel like I’m using her for the violin. I glance at the clock and I’m about to close up the shop when the bell rings and I glance up to find Alexander entering. “I gave up on you calling me,” he announces. “For some reason, I just knew my good looks and charm would win you over.” He expels an exaggerated sigh. “Obviously, I was wrong.”
“I’m aware that you’re good looking,” I say, and he is. Today, he’s absolutely the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome in an expensive blue pin-striped suit that’s fitted to his athletic frame to pe
rfection. “I’m not sure it’s your best quality, though.”
He laughs, a deep laugh some might call sexy, but I’m apparently still lost in Kace August-land, despite Kace August being a complete asshole, because that laugh doesn’t affect me. He saunters over to the opposite side of the counter. “You don’t mind putting me in my place. I like that about you. And for the record, you, Aria, are quite lovely. I’m far more aware of you than I am me.”
“Thank you, Alexander, but we both know you aren’t here to talk about my appearance. Why are you here?”
He glances around the shop. “I wanted to see where you work. It’s a cozy spot.”
“Why are you here?”
“You really don’t love small talk, do you?”
“I like things that are real,” I say and it’s the truth. Too much is not, but those things are out of my control. Others are not.
He studies me a moment. “That’s a very unexpected answer.”
“It’s an honest answer.”
“I guess I now know why you appeal to me so damn much, Aria. I brought you a gift.”
My brows furrow. “A gift?”
He reaches into his jacket and sets a notecard in front of me. “A list of wine collectors that buy and sell.”
Suspicion prickles and bleeds into my voice. “Why would you give that to me? I could use this to help Ed. I could use this and then charge you for my finds.”
“I’ll pay ten percent for any bottle you source from that list. Twenty for bottles you source elsewhere.”
“That wasn’t an answer. What’s the catch?”
“Ed’s going to call you. Don’t take the call.”
Alarm bells replace suspicion. “Whatever this is—”
“It’s business. Just business.” He reaches into his pocket once more and sets an envelope down next to me. “A healthy retainer for your exclusive services related to the wine.” He glances at his watch. “Unfortunately, I’m headed to the Hamptons on more of that business or I’d suggest we celebrate.”
“I haven’t said yes.”
A Reckless Note Page 8