My attention slides to Alexander, to find his dark eyes watching me. “Savage doing security work for you?”
“Something like that,” I say, quickly walking around the desk, and placing a barrier between us. “Thanks for all you did yesterday.”
He steps to the opposite side of the counter, his stare probing. “How are you?”
“Remarkably well. I think the tetanus shot weighing down my arm has been the worst part of the day.”
“They suck,” he says, sounding surprisingly human. “I’m surprised you’re working.”
“Life goes on and I’m really fine. But really truly, thank you for yesterday.”
His eyes take on a predatory gleam. “You owe me a bottle of wine. One we drink together.”
And not so suddenly, I think, this is awkward. That’s all there is to it. “How about one on your wish list?” I counter.
“You found one of my bottles?”
“I’m working on it.”
His eyes probe. “Does this mean you’re going to cash my check?”
My spine straightens. “No. I’m not going to be exclusive with you, Alexander.”
His jaw tenses. “Kace doesn’t want you to work with me.”
“Kace doesn’t make my decisions.”
“He’s rich and famous. He makes a lot of decisions for a lot of people.”
My defenses bristle. “He’s not like that.”
“Isn’t he? The man has a side you don’t know.”
“Don’t we all?” I challenge.
“He has secrets. Things you need to know before you get hurt. Why do you think he wants you to stay away from me? I know those secrets. Let’s go get that bottle of wine and I’ll open your eyes.”
“No,” I say and not just because of the talk I had with Kace this morning. Because of my life and who I am. And just plain respect. “I’m a person who respects privacy, Alexander. And a person’s right to expose whatever they want exposed themselves. Kace will tell me what he wants me to know.”
“Aria, we are friends and I want to protect you.”
“Alexander, I want to be friends, but please respect my boundaries. I owe you a bottle of wine for your help. I’m going to surprise you with a special find. Wait and see.”
“Kace—”
“Stop,” I say. “Stop or we aren’t going to work together at all.”
He inhales a breath and lets it out. “Fine. I’d better leave.”
“Okay.” That’s all I say. Just okay.
He turns and heads for the door, opening it, but when he would leave, he glances back at me and says, “Ask him about Maggie. You’ll want to know.”
He exits and anger stabs at me. I now know the name. I can’ t un-know it and he knew that. I’m around the desk and at the door in a flash. I yank open the door and call out, “Alexander.”
He’s already in front of me. He never left. “I thought that would get your attention.”
“I told you that I didn’t want to know your version of Kace’s secrets. They’re his stories to tell. Yet what do you do? You still blurt out some name that you obviously think will lead me to bad places with Kace. Really, Alexander?”
“Aria—”
“Don’t say another word. You showed me your character. I told you not to tell me anything.”
“I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Go, Alexander. We’re done.”
“You’re clearly angry,”
“I’m furious.”
“I’ll call you—”
“Don’t. And I’m tearing up your check.”
He turns and walks away. And that is when Kace steps in front of me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kace stands there at the door of my store, looking imperfectly perfect, his dark hair mussed by the chilly wind. My gaze traces the hard lines of his face, reading the anger there that I’m not sure is for me or Alexander, or perhaps both. And God, he’s just so Kace August, so ruggedly handsome and deliciously male in black jeans, a black leather jacket, and boots, his blue eyes fixed on me, his handsome face like stone. He isn’t moving or speaking. He is unreadable and my heart is thundering in my chest.
“How much did you hear?” I manage finally.
“Enough,” he says, and as if my words have shifted his mood, or perhaps the very ground beneath his feet, he steps toward me.
I back up to allow him to enter and he’s right there with me, catching my waist, pulling me to him before we ever make it inside the building. “Enough,” he repeats, his hand coming down on the back of my head, his mouth closing down on mine, a slice of sensual tongue stealing my breath. I moan with the unexpected, bittersweet invasion, sinking oh so willingly into the kiss, my arms wrapping his hard, warm body beneath his jacket, the scent of him—all earthy and masculine—as consuming as the feel of his hard body next to mine.
He walks me backward, kicks the door shut, and turns me to press me against it, his powerful thighs encasing mine. “Are we alone?”
“Yes,” I whisper and he locks the door.
Suddenly, I need to make sure his version of “enough” really is enough. “Kace,” I whisper, and when his fingers tangle in my hair, I say, “I didn’t—”
“I know, baby,” is all he says before his mouth closes down on mine again, and words no longer matter. How can they? His hands are all over my body now, caressing a path over my waist, over my breasts. I arch into the touch and I use my free hand to absorb the hard lines of his chest. He reacts, nipping my bottom lip, and cupping my backside, molding me firmly against him, the thick ridge of his erection pressed to my belly. “Why are you wearing pants?” he murmurs. “They’re too damn hard to get off.”
“It’s cold outside.”
“I’ll keep you warm.” He squeezes my backside and leans in to kiss me again when the door unlocks and starts to open behind me.
My heart races and Kace shoves against the door, holding it shut. “What the hell?”
That’s when we hear. “Aria! Aria, are you okay?”
“That’s Nancy,” I say quickly. “She works here. She was here and left. She must have forgotten something.”
“Nancy has very bad timing,” he says, leaning in and kissing my neck, his breath a warm tease as he whispers, “I should be inside you right now.”
My sex clenches and I press closer to him, tilting my chin up, offering him my mouth. His lips lower, so close to mine that I can almost taste him when he murmurs, “I missed you today. I don’t remember ever saying that to another woman.”
I am both shocked and pleased by his confession. “I missed you, too.”
“Aria!” Nancy calls out. “Aria, I’m calling the police.”
Kace pulls back sharply. “Calling the police?”
“Savage was here. He scared her.”
His dark brows furrow. “How did Savage scare her?”
“He’s an intimating guy, Kace, and she cares about me.”
“Aria!” she calls out again and my cellphone starts ringing.
“That will be her,” I say without ever reaching into my pocket to grab it.
He groans, lifts me off of the door, and opens it. Nancy rushes in the door and gives Kace a once over, her eyes going wide. “You’re not Savage.”
“No,” Kace agrees. “I am not.”
She shuts the door and her gaze slides between me and Kace. “He’s,” she says, and looks at him, “you’re Kace August.” Her attention returns to me. “He’s Kace August.”
“And I didn’t know you were into violins, Nancy,” I say.
“I wasn’t until I started researching Stradivarius violins for one of Gio’s clients and making a log of everyone who is known to own one.” She eyes Kace. “That’s when I found you on YouTube.”
I blink, and after about ten stunned seconds, anger surfaces, barely contained. I officially wish Gio was here so I could scream at him. Or hit him. I’d hit him
for sure. That’s a sister’s prerogative. He wasn’t avoiding trouble. He was asking for it and I’m afraid he found it. I’m afraid we’ve all found it.
“And he,” Nancy continues, pointing at Kace, “has not one but three Stradivarius violins. Do you know how expensive and elite they are? Who has three Stradivariuses?”
“An elite violinist who can do them justice,” I say. “For instance,” I motion to Kace, “Kace August.”
“Yes well, I figured that out when I googled him and started listening to his music.” She eyes Kace. “You made me love the violin.”
Kace gives her a little bow. “Happy to hear that I brought you to the dark side.”
She laughs, her cheeks flushed. “The dark side. That’s funny. Please tell me we’re helping you find another prize violin. I’m ready. I have my list.”
Kace wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. “I have my prize.”
Nancy’s eyes go wide all over again. “Oh. I—” She motions between us. “You two are—and actually, Kace you have lipstick on your face.” She eyes me and smiles. “You do, too.”
Kace laughs and rubs his face. I don’t laugh or wipe my face. I’m focused on that tidbit of news she just delivered. “When exactly did Gio have you researching violins?”
“A few weeks before he took off.”
“Do you still have that list?”
“I do,” she confirms. “On my MacBook, which is at home. I can email it to you.”
“Yes. Please. Who was the client Gio had you working for?”
Her brows furrow. “Thinking—Sylvia. Or Stella. Or hmmm—”
“Sofia?” I supply.
Recognition lights her face. “Yes! That was her.”
“Have you met her?” I ask, praying we’re about to find Sofia, right here, under our noses.
“Not in person,” she says. “I talked to her on the phone a few times.”
“When?” I press.
“A few weeks ago, I guess,” Nancy says, her brows furrowing. “Why?”
“On the store phone or your cell?” Kace asks before I can answer.
“The store phone.” Her eyes land heavily on me. “Aria, what’s going on?”
“Do you have her contact information?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “She called in for Gio. Why?”
She called in for Gio and did so on the store phone, I think. To me, that says that she didn’t have his cellphone. Their relationship started as business, be it legit or some sort of trap for Gio, is yet to be determined. “Can you tell when she called based on the dates you worked on the documents?” I ask, snapping me back to the conversation.
“I should be able to tell,” she confirms, “but it was only maybe two times. She called Gio on his cellphone after that. Aria, what is going on?”
I can’t keep avoiding her so I don’t. “Gio got personal with Sofia.”
She snorts. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“And,” I add, “he’s off running around the country with her and I need to reach him for about ten different reasons.” I don’t give her time to dig for more. “Send me the reports and estimate the timelines you talked to Sofia. I need to check the phone records.”
She nods. “Is Gio okay?”
“Only until I get my hands on him,” I assure her.
This draws her laughter. “Right. I bet. You two are always squabbling.” She seems to relax and motions to the desk. “I’m back because I forgot my purse, by the way. Don’t ask me how. I never do that. It’s like I had to come back to look in on you and my subconscious did it, but clearly, I was wrong. You’re pretty darn good from what I can see. Anyway, I’m going to grab it and head home. The neighbor has my son but she has a houseful of kids on her hands with her own. She needs me to hurry back home.” And so, she does hurry. She hurries behind the counter. I follow to stand on the opposite side, across from her.
“I’m going to be traveling with Kace so I’ll be away more than here. And,” I add, “I’m in talks to form a new partnership that will be great for the store. For now, I need you to work from home.”
Before I can blink, she’s on this side of the counter, standing in front of me, lowering her voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. Everything I just said is good.”
She presses. “What partnership?”
“With a large auction house. And it could very possibly represent real, much needed, growth for us.”
“Oh. Okay. I—guess. I hope.” She frowns. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
I hate lies, but this one is about keeping her safe. “Absolutely. Now, hurry home. And get me that report.”
“I will.” She rotates but instead of heading for the door, she pauses directly in front of Kace. “You musicians break hearts. Break hers and I’ll break you, well, if Gio doesn’t beat me to it.”
“Nancy!” I chide, shocked at her behavior but maybe I shouldn’t be. She cracks a whip on Gio when he’s here. “Kace I’m sorry.”
Kace laughs and flicks me an amused look. “It’s okay, baby.” He returns his attention to Nancy. “I promise you, I would never hurt, Aria. If anyone is going to end up with a broken heart, it’s me.”
“Really? You’re that into her?”
“Are you serious, Nancy?” I demand.
“I am, in fact, that into her,” Kace replies.
I facepalm and recover to find her still staring at him. I’m about to just end this myself when she says, “Your version of ‘Bittersweet Symphony’ is so damn good.” And on that note, she steps around him and walks to the door. The minute she exits the store, Kace crosses to the door and locks it behind her.
The minute he turns to me, I say, “I’m so sorry about that.”
“No need to apologize, baby,” he says, joining me at the counter, where we both lean an elbow on the counter. “Friends are supposed to be protective of each other. But I didn’t miss the obvious. You’re worried about her.”
“Yes. I need her out of the middle of this. That auction house stuff was real, though. Crystal wants me to do some work with her. And I might. I’ll listen to her ideas.”
“Crystal told me she was plotting to get you involved over there,” he says. “How do you really feel about that?”
“I don’t yet, and sorry, I’m jumping subjects right now. My mind is on Gio. We know Sofia must have talked to him on his cellphone, but I can’t find his cellphone records. Or rather, I can’t get to them. I don’t even know his carrier.”
“Walker can get to all of that information and quickly,” he promises. “Which speaking of, how did you feel about the meeting with them, after talking to Savage one-on-one?”
“About that. You didn’t have to send him here to prove you were telling the truth. I believed you, Kace.”
“It was about more than that, but yes. I wanted you to know I told you the truth. I want you to know when I tell you something, it’s the truth. How did it go?”
“I’m afraid to trust them. I’m afraid to not trust them. I’m afraid of pulling you into this and putting you in harm’s way.”
His hands settle on my waist, and he steps closer. “If you’re there, I’m going to be with you.”
My hand flattens on his chest. “You don’t understand. They will come for me. I don’t know who they are, but they will come. My mother always knew they would come. Maybe Sofia, maybe she was the beginning. Maybe she came for Gio.”
“We don’t know that. Let’s not assume. We know how they met. That helps, but we have to trust Walker to help. I trust them. And when I talked to Savage this morning I told him I want only him and his boss Blake in on the first meeting. We need them to know just how tight we need to keep this circle. Okay?”
“Yes. Yes, okay.” But I’m not okay. My mind is racing, a bad feeling in my gut. “She—Sofia—came to us looking for a Stradivarius. That wasn’t an accident. And he didn’t tell me. Of co
urse, he knows I wouldn’t approve. Our mother preached distance from all things music, let alone a violin. I would have freaked on him, but surely he knew that was weird, her coming her for a violin. And I—”
He leans in and kisses me, his hand sliding under my hair to my neck. “You’re talking a million miles an hour. Deep breath, baby.”
My hands go to his waist, the warmth of his body a comfort I have never known before he whisked into my life, riding the wind of a new season, I both welcome and fear. “I’m trying. He’s my brother. I have to find him.”
“And we will,” he says. “We will.” He catches my hand. “Let’s head to my place, open a bottle of wine, eat cookies, and decide what comes next.”
“That sounds so simple and perfect,” I say.
“It is, baby. It can be. We just have to make it simple.”
I don’t argue because I want it to be possible too damn much.
We head to my apartment for me to pack up, but Sofia lingers on my mind, the words which she’d written to Gio whispering in my head: Come see me. I won’t keep secrets any longer. I’m done with secrets.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kace plops down on my bed with a box of cookies, a rather surreal moment for me. This crazy talented, sexy, perfect man is not only in my bed, but very much in my life. “Finally something good to eat,” he says, taking a bite of an extra-large sugar cookie.
I lean on the doorframe of the bathroom, practically right in front of him, in the tiny room. “Didn’t you go to some fancy lunch with your donor?”
“Fancy translated to vegan,” he says. “There was tofu. There was lots of tofu.” He inhales the cookie and reaches for another. “Disgusting.”
I laugh and walk into the bathroom, removing an overnight bag from a small closet. “Some people love tofu,” I say because my room is so close that my stepping into the bathroom does nothing to douse our conversation.
“Do you?”
“No,” I reply, shoving hairspray in the bag. “I’m Italian. I live for pasta.”
“How about more tacos?” he counters. “You liked those, right?”
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