A Wicked Song

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  “I’m making money. You paid off my building. I have a load off financially. I can buy what I need, Kace.”

  “Aria, I’m worth an ungodly amount of money. I don’t want to spend it alone. Just take it. Then we both know if you need it you have it.”

  There is such an earnestness to this request that I pick up the card. Apparently, this is not where I draw the line, but I look for that balance. “For emergencies.”

  “It’s a start,” he approves. “I can live with that.”

  My cellphone buzzes with a message and I slide it close to read the message. “Donelle says he’ll wait to sell the violin until you can get to Italy, as long as it’s this year.”

  “Well there you go,” he says. “It might just work out.”

  I sip my coffee, trying to bury the sense for foreboding in my belly. It’s just too good to be true. Going after that violin is dangerous and yet I know we’re going to do it.

  ***

  On Friday, Blake joins us for our morning coffee and offers us a full update on his investigations. With him across from us at the kitchen island, I pray for good news. He starts with the man in the pharmacy who turns out to be just what we thought: press. No lead there to help find Gio. “Let’s talk about Kayden Wilkens,” he says, moving on, “the head of The Underground in Europe, I mentioned when I was here last. Kayden’s confirmed that there are, in fact, rumblings of someone trying to find the formula, but they didn’t come to his people.”

  I frown. “That’s unexpected, right? You thought that anyone looking for the formula would end up with him?”

  “Eventually, they’ll end up finding him if they really want that prize. Everyone who wants the impossible ends up with Kayden. Whoever this is clearly isn’t willing, or ready, to risk trusting them.”

  “It could be Gio,” I say. “Or not. I don’t know. I thought he was dead, but Gio wouldn’t trust an outsider. He’d try to hunt on his own. But he also doesn’t have the skills to disappear on his own. Or I didn’t think he did.”

  “Maybe this Sofia person does,” Blake offers, “though I doubt that’s her real name.”

  All and all, it’s a discouraging conversation that ends with the promise of another update.

  Scarily, considering Gio’s prolonged silence, I blink and another week has passed and it’s time for Kace’s charity event. Mark and Crystal leave days before us. That leaves Kace and I, along with Savage and Adrian, on a private jet to San Francisco the eve of the event. The rest of the Walker security team for the event will be local. The flight is long, and using a practice violin, Kace runs through his performance pieces. It’s surreal, flying thirty thousand feet in the air while this man plays a violin. The music that has always been in my heart and blood seems to blossom with every passing moment, into a new tree of life through this man.

  Once we arrive in San Francisco, I have my moments of awe over the Golden Gate Bridge, the water, and the mountains. We check into the Ritz and before long, it’s us, Chris and Sara, Mark and Crystal, all in our living area, with wine ready to pour, but for Chris and Kace, opt for beer. A surprising choice from Kace, who loves his wine, but I say what the heck and drink beer, too.

  “You know, Aria,” Sara says. “I do pretty much what you’re doing now, only with art. I can start sending you a list of the pieces I have to sell, if you like. I’ll meet Riptide’s forty percent.”

  “Do I get any Chris Merit originals?” I ask hopefully.

  “I’ll paint you one for you,” Chris offers. “But if you sell it, one of my two charities get the funds.”

  “If you paint me a painting, I will never sell it.”

  “I’ve been trying to get him to paint me something for the living room,” Kace says. “Now he offers to paint for you? What the hell?”

  “Ms. Merit,” Mark begins, displeasure in his voice. “Are you trying to bribe Aria away from us?”

  “Mrs.,” Chris corrects.

  “Sara,” Sara corrects.

  I laugh and everyone looks at me. “I just didn’t know he talked like that to anyone but me.”

  Now, everyone laughs and for the first time in my life, since age eleven, I’m in a room of friends. Kace did that for me. I glance over at him and I see it in his eyes. He knows what I’m feeling. He’s the only person who’s ever been close enough to me to know what I’m feeling.

  ***

  The morning of the show, which is Saturday, we wake and order room service. The amazing thing about San Francisco is that the weather is mild year-round. We’re able to enjoy our coffee on the patio, with an incredible view of the Golden Gate Bridge. I lean on the railing and Kace steps behind me. “What are you thinking?”

  “I never thought I’d leave my neighborhood in New York City. Thank you for bringing me.” I turn to face him. “You’ve changed my life.”

  “The feeling is mutual, baby. You have to know that.”

  “Yes, but you—”

  A knock sounds on the door. “Hold that thought. I have a surprise for you.” He winks and heads inside. I step back into the living area to find him rolling a rack of dresses back into the room. “What have you done?”

  “You need a dress that does you justice tonight. I knew you wouldn’t go buy it, and you didn’t, despite my prodding all week.”

  “I have a dress.”

  “It’s not one of these dresses. This event is going to be over the top glitz. And if you don’t like any of these, we’ll go hunting for one you do like.” He pulls a dress from the rack. “I asked for this one.”

  It’s a gorgeous dress, floor length with a beaded V-neck in a flesh-tone, but the bottom is a stunning chiffon sunshine-hued skirt with a slit down the leg. “It’s beautiful. Like a daisy.”

  “Exactly.” He carries it to me. “It matches your ring.”

  My fingers catch on the chiffon of the skirt. It’s a Cinderella dress.

  “Want to try it on?” he asks.

  “I do,” I say. “Very much.”

  His eyes light. “Good. Then go try it on.”

  I take the dress and start to leave, but pause to push to my toes and kiss him. “Thank you.”

  His hand settles on my lower back and he molds me close. “Anything for you, Aria. That’s what I want you to understand. I’m not the man I was before I met you. I would do anything for you. Don’t forget that.” His voice is low, rough, affected.

  I don’t know what he’s talking about. I don’t ask. He doesn’t want me to ask. Because as he knows me, I’ve come to know him. He has secrets. He has pain. He has damage. And I don’t care. I’m the one affected by him and on the deepest of levels. I need him and that has nothing to do with a dress. He could hurt me and maybe he will, but I cannot turn back now, damn the consequences, and at times, I know there will consequences.

  Once I’m in the bathroom, I slip out of the robe and into the dress and I’m in love with it and Kace. I glance at my ring and then at myself in the mirror. It’s perfect. Everything about this dress is perfect. A rush of nostalgia has me grabbing my phone from my robe pocket and dialing Gio for the first time in a week. It goes straight to voicemail.

  I text the message sender that sent me that strange message: Please contact me, Gio.

  The message bounces back. And I don’t know why I even sent that message. Gio didn’t send me that text. I know he didn’t.

  A knock sounds on the door. “You going to let me see the dress?” Kace calls out.

  “Not until tonight.” I slip out of it and pull on the robe, opening the door.

  He’s right there, waiting on me. “Then you’re keeping the dress?”

  “Yes. I love it so much.”

  “You have others to try on.”

  “No need.” My fingers curl in his T-shirt. “You picked this one and you know, I really love—” I stop myself before I tell him I love him. God, what am I doing?

  His cellphone rings. He ignores it. “You really lo
ve—” he prods, his hands on my waist as he steps into me. “You love what, Aria?”

  “The dress,” I say.

  “And I love,” he pauses, “the dress, too.” His lips, his really sexy lips, quirk at the edges.

  He loves the dress? No. No that’s not what we’re talking about right now. My God, have we just confessed our love to each other?

  “Aria,” he says and there’s a knock on the door.

  He curses under his breath and presses his forehead to mine before he cups my head and kisses me. “I really love that damn dress,” he says and heads toward the door.

  Leaving me breathless.

  I don’t know what just happened, but I want to pull him back to me right away and finish this conversation but that soon proves impossible. Our visitor is Savage.

  “Ho ho ho,” he greets, taking over the room, as he does every room he enters. “Christmas comes early. I’m here. I bring cookies and plans for tonight’s event.”

  We spend a good hour with him and our moment of confessions have passed. With the day passing quickly, we shower and head out to explore the city, which includes the pier, a light lunch, and a bakery with what he claims to have “the best chocolate cake on planet Earth.” He’s right. It is.

  “You know,” he says as we sit in the cute little bakery at a wooden table, “in Paris, I can show you a lot of things you’ve never experienced. Chris and Sara live there half the year. Maybe we could do the same with Italy.”

  “I can’t go back to Italy. What about Germany? And I can’t even believe I’m talking about living anywhere but New York City. But you love Germany and you said I’d love the spaetzle.”

  “Which I still haven’t gotten you.” He stands and takes me with him. “I’m going to give you back Italy. I promise and I don’t make promises I can’t keep. You wait and see.”

  If anyone else said that to me I wouldn’t believe him. But this is Kace. And he seems to make all things possible. What he didn’t say, though, is that he’s promising to bring Gio back to me. But then, he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep.

  ***

  After a fabulous afternoon, Kace and I arrive back to the room around five to shower and dress. Once Kace is done shaving, I kick him out of the bathroom to finish dressing. I don’t want him to see the dress until I’m perfect. And so, I fret over just that—the perfect make-up in muted browns. My hair is loving the new product Kace bought me and it flat irons long and a silky dark brown around my shoulders. My final step before pulling on the dress is a pair of diamond-studded strappy high heels that I absolutely adore. The dress is last and I slip it into place over a perfect glittery gold bra that gives me just the right amount of cleavage. After a quick inspection of my image in the mirror, I’m feeling like Cinderella all over again. It’s a dress for a princess and I’m ready for my prince. I inhale and open the door.

  Kace isn’t in the bedroom, so I walk through the door to the living room. He’s standing by the window on the phone and the minute he sees me, he says, “I know. We’ll be ready,” and hangs up.

  His eyes sweep over me, his expression filled with masculine appreciation. “You look beautiful, baby. So damn beautiful.” He steps closer and I do the same, meeting him in the middle of the room, just outside the line of the living area.

  He’s dressed for his rock star image, in all black, denim and boots, tattoos dancing along his arms the way music will dance off his bow to a wondrous crowd a short while from now.

  “So do you,” I say.

  His lips curve. “I look beautiful, huh?” He closes the very small space left between us, his fingers splaying at my hips. Heat radiates off his palm and seeps through my dress to scorch my skin. My hand goes to his hand, as if I can stop the assault on my senses his touch and the look in his eyes creates. “You are,” I say.

  “Show me later.” It’s one of his favorite statements. One I always make sure I answer. Later.

  “I have something for you,” he says and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black box. “I wasn’t sure what neckline you’d choose, and I wanted something you could look down and see anytime you wanted.” He opens the lid and I gasp at the gorgeous bracelet that is made up of yellow daisies with diamonds glistening in the center of each flower. “Oh my God, Kace. It’s gorgeous and it’s,” I look up at him, “so very special.”

  “I wanted it to match your ring. Try it on.” He removes it from the velvet and sets the box on the back of the couch before slipping it around my wrist. “I had it sized. You have tiny wrists and fingers.”

  “Which isn’t good for playing the violin,” I say.

  His brows furrow. “Who told you that?”

  I think back to a day with my father, years before. “My father.”

  “You can tell me that story later, but that’s the first thing I don’t agree with him on.” He seals the clasp and I stare down at the beauty twinkling back at him, memories of the moment my mother gave me my ring in my mind.

  Kace’s fingers brush my cheek. “What are you thinking?”

  “It was my sixteenth birthday when my mother gave me my ring. She said it was her way of bringing my father to the day. And now, she’s here with me, with us, because of you.” I wrap my arms around him and tilt my chin up. “Kace, I—I really—”

  There’s a knock on the door and both of us suck in air. “It’s Savage,” Kace says. “Again.”

  “He has really bad timing,” I say.

  “Yes, he does.” He cups my face. “And I really—too.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  “Rock and roll, people,” Savage orders, snapping his fingers. “Pronto.”

  “Sometimes you’re a pain in the ass, Savage,” Kace says.

  “My wife agrees.” He opens the door and says nothing more.

  Kace settles a velvet cape around me that I’ve never seen before. “You had to have something to match the dress.”

  “I do,” I say, lifting my arm and the bracelet.

  “You do,” he says with a smile, and the man really does have a devastating smile.

  Once we’re loaded up in an SUV and on our way to the event, Savage pumps up Kace’s pre-event music, quite literally with the old-school “Pump Up the Jam,” followed by Prince’s “Purple Rain.” We’re all singing and laughing when we pull up to the event and it’s a madhouse, the front entrance to the museum is literally packed with people, including press, cameras, and a few obvious movie stars. “This is much bigger than the Riptide event,” I say, nerves assailing me. “I’m so glad you talked me into this dress. Not that you had to try hard, but you know what I mean.”

  “It’s Chris’s home city,” he says, “and we both called in some favors from some big names. We want the last US event to be huge.”

  “It’s like a red-carpet event.”

  “Don’t be nervous,” he says, kissing my hand. “You’re going to steal the show in that dress.” He leans in and kisses my neck. The door beside him opens and he starts to get out. I catch his arm. “We’re going to be photographed.”

  “Own it, baby. I talked to Blake about this. Act like you have nothing to hide. Whoever knows who you are, already knows. And I promise you every Hollywood star here has something to hide. Or we can go around back and sneak in.”

  Sneak in, I repeat in my mind.

  Hide.

  No.

  “No,” I say. “Let’s go.”

  He smiles his approval before he exits the vehicle and helps me out. Flashes go off immediately and Kace’s hand settles at my hip, fitting me snuggly to his side. We start walking and Savage and Adrian are right beside us, leaving the SUV for someone else to deal with. Microphones are shoved at Kace and questions asked about me, but he doesn’t respond to anyone.

  Once we’re inside the building, calmness ensues. We check our coats, and Kace is left in his T-shirt and tattoos. We start walking a grand hall with arched ceilings, and walls covered in his
toric paintings, and I tease him about his rock star image. He slides an arm around me. “I’m wearing a tuxedo in Paris.”

  “Really? Now I have to go.”

  “That’s what I want to hear.”

  “Let’s find the food, baby,” Kace says. “I know I said I wasn’t hungry earlier, but I changed my mind.”

  “Me, too,” I say, “but I don’t think real humans eat food around movie stars.”

  “It’s the movie stars that don’t eat, at least not if they plan to keep it down.”

  I crinkle my nose. “That was a bad joke.”

  “Bad jokes are good jokes,” he says with a wink as we step into a room with a domed ceiling etched in ancient images. Fancy dresses and tuxedos dot our path as do waiters with food trays. Kace grabs an egg salad sandwich for both of us and I wave him off. I just can’t eat here, but he sure can. He inhales both. “You were smart to pass,” he says after he swallows the last bite. “They sucked, they were tiny, and I need energy. Look for the chocolate and you’ll find Chris and Sara. Well Sara, but where Sara is, Chris is.”

  We both start scanning the room and sure enough, I find a chocolate fountain and Sara is there. “And there she is,” I say, pointing.

  “And there’s Chris, right by her side.”

  And just like Kace, he’s in jeans and a T-shirt with boots. Two rebels in a crowd of tuxedos. I kind of love it.

  “Come,” Kace says, attaching my hand to his elbow as we start maneuvering through the more densely populated areas of the room to make our way to Chris and Sara. Every time Kace reaches for another snack, which is often, someone is in front of him, trying to talk to him. People love him and I can’t help but feel pride. We are finally just this close to Chris and Sara when a distinguished elderly man with solid gray hair intercepts us and he is just gushing over Kace. Ten minutes later, he continues gushing and Kace is graciously interacting with him.

  Chris appears beside us and pats the man’s shoulder. “Charlie, if you don’t let me feed him, he might pass out while he performs.”

  “Oh my,” Charlie says. “I didn’t mean to delay your preparation for your performance. Energy matters. You go, son. I can’t wait to watch you perform.” Charlie hurries away and now Kace slaps Chris on the back. “I owe you again.”