I hold my breath, afraid they’ll come to blows, but abruptly they step away from each other. The two uniformed men turn and start walking away. My father watches them get into the Army jeep, and I run to the door and open it, standing on the porch and waiting. It’s not until that jeep is driving away that he walks toward me, his jaw set hard, his body stiff. He climbs the porch steps, and I don’t ask a question, but rather, wait for whatever lesson he will deliver, because there is always a lesson.
He stops in front of me. “Never judge a man by his uniform or his attitude, good or bad. The truth is in his eyes and his actions. Never forget that, baby girl.”
“So were those men good guys or bad guys?”
“Signora? Do you need something else?”
I blink and bring our waiter into view. “The ladies’ room?” I ask, struggling to bring myself back to the present. He motions to a corner sign that reads TOILET, and I murmur, “Thank you,” and head in that direction, keeping my pace until I’ve traveled down a small hallway to the one-person bathroom.
Inside, I lock the door and sink against it, inhaling and letting it out, affected more by the memory of my father than I am by Gallo. That day was—I think—about six months before he died. Before he was murdered. Who were those men? Why were they there?
And what did Gallo say that triggered the memory? Was it his reference to murder? What the hell was that thing about Kayden and a politician and murder?
I have looked into Kayden’s eyes. He wouldn’t kill someone for money. And damn it, I played this all wrong. I didn’t find out anything Giada has revealed to Gallo, nor did I find out who inside the Hunters is betraying Kayden. Maybe I should have pretended to doubt Kayden. No. No, that would have just empowered Gallo even more.
A piece of paper slides under the door. I frown and pick it up, opening it to read: I know. That’s it. Just, I know. Nothing more. Nothing less. A chill runs down my spine and I open the door to find the hallway empty. Grinding my teeth, I whisper, “Your actions define you, Gallo. You really are an asshole.”
I glance at the note again. I know. I have no idea what it means. Maybe it’s about the butterfly? Or Niccolo? Or both? Why wouldn’t he bring them up, if he knew any of this? Maybe he’s just trying to spook me into a reaction I won’t give him.
Officially ready to get out of here, I open my purse, wanting Charlie handy, then shove the note into my coat pocket with my phone and head back into the bar again, relieved that Gallo hasn’t reappeared. Wasting no time, I cross through the seating area, and reach the front door. Exiting, the cold air makes me walk quickly down the narrow brick pavement that’s now lined with pedestrians. The crowd provides coverage for me if Gallo is following, but it does the same for him.
I turn onto the quieter walkway where I’d paused to Google a map earlier, thinking about Giada and the need to rein her in. I’m halfway to the end when I pass an alcove, and to my shock, a strong hand comes down on my arm and pulls me inside.
seven
I know it’s Kayden even before I see him, the familiar spice of his scent enveloping me, his big, warm body pinning me in a corner, his jean-clad legs caging mine. “What the hell were you doing there with Gallo, Ella?” he demands, his hands bracketing my waist, his tone hard. His temper is unforgiving, but I don’t cower.
“Why are you here, and not attending to your business?” I retort, my fingers curling around his T-shirt, beneath his leather biker jacket. “This was not an emergency. This was not a reason for you to leave what you were doing. That you did makes me look to your men like a distraction you can’t afford.”
“Why were you with Gallo?” he demands.
“Because had I not met him for coffee, he was going to take me to the police station for questioning, and we both know that would have put me on Niccolo’s radar.”
“And yet,” he bites out, his fingers flexing at my waist, “you didn’t call me.”
“You said only to call if it was an emergency, and Gallo being an asshole is not an emergency.”
“Last night, Ella.”
“Exactly. The note you left said you were wrapping up loose ends from last night, and I don’t want you to think I don’t know the definition of an emergency. That’s like the boy who cried wolf, nor do I want your men to think I represent a distraction.”
“Let me worry about my men.”
“I’m not going to do that; not now or ever. If you want a puppet who’ll burden you with everything and care about nothing you do, then I’m the wrong choice for you, Kayden. That’s not who I am, or who I hope we are together. You didn’t have to come here. I would have called you the moment things turned in the wrong direction.”
“What part of once it’s gone wrong, it’s too late, don’t you understand?” he demands. “Why didn’t you go to Adriel?”
“Aside from the fact that he’s been vocal about me being a distraction you don’t need, and the reason I was worried about your men?” I don’t give him time to reply, getting to the real issue. “Gallo said that any interference by Adriel, you, or anyone, would mean not only me visiting the police station, but Giada, too. And I wasn’t willing to let her run her mouth in an interrogation room.”
“He had no legal right to do that—which you’d have known, had you called me or gone to Adriel.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” I say, hesitating to bring up Giada when he’s this angry.
“Define complicated.” I hesitate a moment longer and he is not willing to wait. “Ella—”
“Gallo claims Giada sent him text messages last night that were damning enough to ensure that you couldn’t stop him from questioning her or me. She swears there are no messages, even though I told her Matteo would find out if she was lying. But I couldn’t take the risk that there were texts.”
“And yet you tried to handle this on your own.”
“I did handle it, Kayden. I’m not arrested. I’m not at the station and on Niccolo’s radar any more than I was before today. You don’t owe the police chief yet another favor, and no one has told one single Underground secret. I’d be back in the castle trying to throttle Giada right now, if you hadn’t just yanked me into a dark hole.”
“There’s a bigger picture here that you need to understand—but that isn’t a conversation we can have when I have men and business waiting on me at the castle.”
He reaches for my hand and I grab his jacket. “Wait. Please. If this is about my past—”
“It’s not.”
“I didn’t betray you, Kayden. If it’s about trust—”
“One of my men died last night, Ella,” he says, his low voice rough, almost guttural. “The last thing I needed today was to find out that you were with Gallo, when we don’t know what Giada told him. One wrong word, one careless whisper, and he will take you and my men down to destroy me.”
“I promise you, when you have time to listen, I handled him well.”
“Even if you did, you took a risk that didn’t have to be taken. You didn’t know what trigger to your past he might hit, or how you would have reacted.”
I physically flinch. “And there it is. My amnesia. The monster in the closet we denied last night.”
“Not a monster, and there is no denial here. Just a fact that we both have to consider for everyone’s protection.” His cell phone buzzes with a text, and he reaches inside his jacket pocket to glance at it, before returning it and refocusing on me. “We need to get back to the castle.” He takes my hand and leads me out of the alcove. There is no pause or opportunity to adjust to the freezing cold weather. I shove my other hand in my pocket as we head down the path, his black-laced biker boots crashing against the brick street and seeming to echo with more than his unappeased anger. There is a shift in him now, a drive that is all about power, control, and purpose, that silences anything I might say. Something is happening and he needs to focus on it, not me, which was my intent all along.
It’s on that thought that Kayden turns
us around the corner, directing us down the walkway that leads to the front of the castle, not to the back, where I’d exited. We’ve almost reached the plaza, and our point of entry, when a twenty-something man steps directly into our path, and I jolt. Kayden reacts to my reaction and the visitor, pulling me closer, bending both our arms at the elbow and aligning our hips, possessive, protective. And just like that, I feel like us again, not the divide, not the doubts I realize now that his reaction to my action has stirred in me.
The stranger speaks to Kayden in fast, clipped Italian, never looking at me. Kayden issues an equally clipped reply, and the man departs immediately while Kayden puts us back in motion.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“One of the neighborhood crowd,” he says. “Niccolo might own the rest of the city, but I own this neighborhood and its ears and eyes.” He halts us in front of the castle. “And Gallo’s aware of that fact.”
Realization delivers a painful dose of the big picture Kayden had hinted existed. “He threatened me to ensure that I didn’t call you, knowing that someone else would. He wanted to cause trouble between us.”
“Yes,” he confirms. “But even more, your showing up to a meeting I wouldn’t have allowed you to attend told him that you aren’t fully aligned with me. It told him you didn’t call me.”
“But if I hadn’t gone, it would have looked like you didn’t trust me. Or like we had something to hide.”
He closes the small space between us, towering over me, touching me nowhere, when I want him to touch me everywhere, anywhere. “I do not play Gallo’s games, and if you are to be by my side, you don’t, either. Period. The end. That isn’t up for negotiation because it’s about keeping you safe. Your safety is never a negotiation.”
“You can’t—”
He gently shackles my arm and pulls me to him. “I can and I will when it comes to your safety. Because I fucking care way too much for either of our good. And if you want to argue that point, we will fight and fuck this out in private.”
“When exactly are we going to do this fight-and-fuck thing, because I think we’ll both feel better afterward.”
“We will, tonight. During and afterward.” Heat rushes through me, one part anger, one part lust, just as a sleek black Porsche pulls up beside us, the windows tinted dark. Kayden motions it inside the grounds and we follow to the other side of the gate, where he hits the button to lock us inside before withdrawing his phone.
We walk the broad expanse of the front yard while he makes a phone call, saying simply, “Open the garage,” before returning his cell to his pocket.
I watch the Porsche pull around the drive as the doors open. “Who’s inside it?”
“Carlo,” Kayden says. “Who is about to be reminded that I’m his moral compass.”
“Considering he’s amused at inappropriate times, that doesn’t surprise me.”
“Don’t confuse amusement with lack of intelligence,” he says. “He’s cunning. He’s lethal and he misses nothing.”
“And the moral compass?”
“He has one, but he’s about to be reminded that mine is the only one that matters.” We reach the bottom of the stairs and he turns me to face him. “My men think you called me before meeting Gallo. Keep it that way and they might not ask questions. Don’t talk about it. Less is more, unless it’s with me.”
“Because they’ll see me as a weakness.”
“Yes.”
“Am I?” I ask. My cell phone rings from my coat pocket and Kayden’s jaw sets hard. No doubt he assumes it’s Gallo, as I do.
“Check it,” he orders softly.
Dreading where this might be going, I fish it from my pocket and nod. “It is. It’s him.”
“Decline the call,” he says, his mood shifting back to that dark edginess from the alcove.
I don’t hesitate, not after his comment about Gallo trying to divide us in some way, which the note he stuck under the door supports as true. I hit “decline” and shove my phone back into my pocket, and the mysterious note flutters out to the ground.
Kayden bends over and snags it, reading it and looking at me. “What does ‘I know’ mean?”
“Gallo shoved it under the bathroom door in the coffee bar, but he said nothing to indicate he knows about my past.”
“Of course he didn’t,” he says, balling the paper in his hand and shoving it inside his pocket, his jaw clenching at the sound of the front door opening.
“Less is more,” he repeats as we start to climb up the stone steps.
I hurry to keep up, my gaze lifting to find Adriel has appeared on the top step, dressed in jeans and some sort of polo-style Italian football shirt. His features are harshly drawn, the scar lining his cheek somehow more pronounced. When he looks at me, it’s brittle, and the only color in his eyes is ice. He’s pissed at my bypassing him today, and my struggle to find peaceful ground with him, and I’m thinking my telling Kayden about his disapproval isn’t going to help.
He speaks to Kayden in Italian and the two men talk on the porch. Eager to get out of the cold, I continue into the main castle foyer, almost running into Carlo. I back up, and I swear in morning light, dressed in jeans and a tan leather jacket and tan boots, he’s far more the Italian stallion than I remember. A man I suspect could fuck you senseless and slice your throat, and I’m not sure why Kayden tolerates him.
Carlo is quick to remove the space I’ve just put between us, his eyes a bit too warm, too attentive. It could be flirtation, but my gut tells me that’s not the case. He’s testing me, trying to intimidate me, and I hold my ground. “How was coffee?” he asks, a cynically amused quirk to his lips, arrogance wafting off of him.
I want to step backward, but refuse to give him that reaction. I fold my arms in front of me. “Uneventful and uninteresting,” I say dismissively.
“Gallo is many things,” he says, “but we both know uninteresting is not one of them. Did he fuck with your mind? He likes to fuck with people’s minds.”
“Spoken like a man who’s been his victim.”
He gives me a deadpan stare and then smirks. “Ha. Ha. Aren’t you funny. And brave.”
There is something brutal in in those flippantly spoken words, almost a threat, or maybe it’s just that everything about the man is lethal. I stand firm, reaching for the respect I need to stand by Kayden’s side. “Brave because I said that to you, or brave because I dared to suggest I fared better than you?”
The door shuts behind me and a moment later Kayden steps beside me, speaking to Carlo in clipped, thick Italian, but it is not his words that I cannot understand. It’s how, without trying, he sucks all the energy from the massive castle foyer, leaving none of it for Carlo to claim as his own. Kayden has become The Hawk. He is always The Hawk, but I’m in awe of his control when he chooses to radiate that persona. Carlo’s words sharpen and Kayden stares at him, seconds ticking by before without looking at me, he orders, “Wait on me in the tower, Ella.”
I’d rebel against that order if he weren’t The Hawk, who I’ve vowed to battle behind closed doors, and if I weren’t certain Carlo had just challenged him over me. Which makes me want to stay and fight my own battle, and his too, but he is The Hawk, and I can’t risk working against his leadership. Knowing my show of respect is critical right now, I force myself to turn and walk to the door dividing me from our tower, jabbing the code into the keypad.
The door begins to lift, and for once, my impatience does not win as I wait for it to rise all the way up, hoping to overhear the conversation sure to take place between Kayden and Carlo. But they start talking in Italian, driving home how important it is for me to learn the language—and then Adriel’s and Matteo’s voices join the conversation, surprising me. Giving the door my profile, I bring the foursome into view to find Matteo standing next to Carlo, and Adriel next to Kayden. Perhaps the choice of positions is simply convenience, but I have this odd sense of a division that I do not like.
Too soon, considerin
g I know nothing more, the door has fully lifted, and I’m forced to enter our tower, pressing the button on the other side to close the door. I rush up the stairs and go straight to our room, shutting the door behind me. Leaning against the hard surface, I stare at the bed now cast in shadows, ignoring the light switch, but I do not truly see it. Instead I think of Gallo’s implication that someone is leaking information to him. And while Carlo seems an obvious choice, I’m just not sure. Someone who’s a rebel and an asshole rarely finds safe haven with a police officer. And I have a flickering image of a man in a suit whose face I cannot see, saying those exact words to me.
I press my hands to my face. “My God. What is wrong with me?” I drop my hands and lean my head back against the door. “Why can’t I remember? I’m not a scared person. Or do I just not remember the fear?” It’s a horrible thought, and it doesn’t matter anyway. I have to remember, or Kayden and I will always wonder about those triggers he mentioned. We will never truly have trust, and I will never really be at home here. The word home seems to be one of those triggers, for suddenly I’m seeing myself on a stage, dancing to an empty auditorium, and my mother and my father are watching. My father didn’t approve of my dancing. My chest aches with the heaviness of the emotion now stirred, and I think my mind is telling me that dancing will take me places that will hurt, but I have to visit.
Ready to change clothes and go upstairs to the room Kayden has made my dance studio, I shove off of the door and make my way through the bathroom to the massive closet. What if we’re enemies? I inhale, and reject the ridiculous notion that didn’t exist at the coffee bar today. It is not possible that I could be Kayden’s enemy.
Suddenly suffocating in my coat, I dig my phone out of its pocket, and then hang it up. Sitting down on the bench in the center of the closet, I have a memory of Kayden and me having sex right here, on top of it, and it’s a good memory that curves my lips. We are not enemies. I pull my purse off and set it beside me, unzipping it to put my phone inside. Just for good measure I touch Charlie, which is one part a gift from Kayden, and another from my father, who taught me to use it. I want to say the only two men who have ever fully earned my respect and trust, but I can’t know that for certain. Yet . . . I do.
Demand Page 8