Demand

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “You can thank Giada for that,” he says. “She’s been nothing but a pain in the ass that distracts him, so he doesn’t, or he didn’t, see how you could be anything but a distraction to me.”

  “Didn’t?”

  “He thought you’d go ‘Giada’ on me today due to Enzo’s death last night, but instead you fought for me and him.” We turn onto a double-laned street lined by sidewalks, and he adds, “But you should have told me he was giving you trouble.”

  “I won’t win anyone’s respect by your demanding it. I have to earn it myself.” My eyes light on a massive white building with a red carpet in front and cars everywhere. “Is that where we’re going?”

  “That’s the party,” Kayden confirms, then cuts down a small street and parks by the curb.

  “What are we doing?” I ask, the dim streetlight illuminating his stark expression.

  “Every reason I’ve given you for bringing you to this party was true.”

  “But?”

  “The group sponsoring this party is a powerful consortium that’s behind much of the fractured state of the Italian government. They want the power themselves, and are controlled by—”

  “Niccolo,” I supply. “What is going on? Why are we here?” A bad feeling consumes me and I try to withdraw, but he catches my arm.

  “Hear me out, Ella. There is nothing happening here that you don’t decide to make happen. My stopping here, now, is about giving you the power to decide if we go to the party. This is your choice. You always have a choice.”

  “If that were true, you’d have explained this so-called choice before we were sitting in a car right by the party.”

  “That’s not true. I did it this way because decisions that come with fear are easier made when you’re one step from the fire. You are the kind of person who will stand by the flames and be empowered, instead of cowering.”

  “Is Niccolo the fire, Kayden, or are you?”

  “I am the man who wants to keep you alive and by my side. If that makes me the fire, then yes, I am the fire.”

  “Is Niccolo here?”

  “Niccolo does not attend political events, nor is he on the guest list tonight—or we would not be. He controls the puppets inside, and many of his loyal followers will be present. And if you really know Niccolo—”

  “I know him. Someone close to him will be here. They will see me and us. This isn’t hiding in plain sight. This is inviting Niccolo to find me.”

  “Yes, they will. And that’s the point.”

  eleven

  My fingers curl into my palms. “I don’t even know how to process what you just said to me. No part of my mind can find a path to why you would want Niccolo to find me. Because ‘hide in plain sight’ seems to have become ‘knock on Niccolo’s door.’ ”

  “Hiding in plain sight worked when I thought you were a random person who’d stumbled into Niccolo’s line of fire. In that scenario, the interest in you would have faded. But now we know you’re more than that.”

  “We’ve known that for a while, with my flashbacks.”

  “And I’ve had this on my mind for a while,” he concurs. “When Gallo dragged you into the limelight today, it drove home what I knew needed to be addressed. Waiting for a hatchet to fall doesn’t work in our favor.”

  “And that hatchet is Niccolo.”

  “We don’t know who might think you have the necklace and be looking for you. We have to establish that you don’t have it. We have to take control—not allow it to be taken from us by Niccolo, or anyone else.”

  “How do we establish that I don’t have the necklace, when I have amnesia?”

  “We go public, starting with tonight. Let Niccolo find us—and when he does, he’ll call me.”

  “And he’ll demand you hand me over to him, and probably try to beat the location out of me. And then he’ll be dead because I’ll kill him, and maybe life will be good.”

  He cups my face. “Easy, sweetheart. Niccolo will never touch you. I won’t let that happen. I know you know that.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  He takes my hand. “We won’t let it happen. And Niccolo’s a businessman. He wants the power that necklace represents, but so do a long list of others, and he doesn’t want them to get it over himself. He’ll negotiate in order to be the insider when your memory returns—and the bottom line here is that he’ll tell us who you are. So we wipe out the unknowns and do just what I said: claim control.”

  A million questions come to my mind, but I settle on the one that makes all of the others unnecessary. “If you really think this is the right move, then why not just go to Niccolo directly?”

  “For the same reason that I need real proof that he killed Elizabeth and Kevin, before I kill him. Long before my time, The Underground was at war with the Italian and French mobs. The end result was an uneasy truce where all of us mutually respect each other’s business. If he thinks that I knew you were in that alleyway waiting for him, and I hid you, it could mean war. So we have to rely on the truth. I found you. I thought you were in the crossfire, and you have amnesia.”

  “But won’t he be pissed that you were there for the necklace?”

  “I’m a Hunter, and respecting that is respecting my business. I might not be willing to work for him, but he’ll easily believe that I’m chasing that necklace, and not for a client. I’ll eventually negotiate to find it for him, which, considering The Underground doesn’t work for him, will feel like a big win to him.”

  “You say he’ll negotiate to be inside when I get my memory back, but I thought you didn’t want him to have the necklace?”

  “We aren’t giving him the necklace. He’ll tell us who you are, and Nathan believes that will trigger your memories. We’ll locate the necklace, return it to the British government, and this will be over.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Being in control is always easier than sitting and waiting. But this is your decision, Ella. I’m not forcing you, nor will I ever force you, to do anything. So: do we play it safe and go back to the castle? Or do we make a public statement starting with this party?”

  “There is no choice here,” I say.

  “There is always a choice.”

  “No. There isn’t. I can’t hide in a castle tower like Rapunzel and expect this to go away. And even if I could, anyone close to me could get hurt if I try and fail. I have to do this. I need to make me the target, not someone else.”

  “We’re not on the same page here, Ella, if you think I’m trying to make you a target. You already are one. We’re going to get the bull’s-eye off of you.”

  “I want the bull’s-eye off everyone else. I can’t live with putting anyone else in danger. But you should have talked to me about this the minute you considered taking me to the party!”

  “I didn’t want Niccolo to have time to get inside your head and control you before we could even get here.”

  “So you did, instead?”

  “I knew you’d get to a yes eventually, so why give you more hours to worry, when all you do right now is worry?” He doesn’t wait for a reply. “Do you trust me?”

  “I did.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

  “Ella—”

  I sigh. “Yes. Beyond obvious reason right now, I do, and you clearly believe this is the right decision.”

  “I do. I absolutely believe this is a path to the freedom and the answers we both crave.”

  “And if Niccolo’s people try to grab me?”

  “Once we make a public showing, with you wearing that bracelet, there are politics in play. You don’t touch The Hawk’s woman. If he does every division of The Underground, every hacker, every ex-mercenary, everyone who is anyone, will be his enemies, and believe me, Ella, no one, especially Niccolo, wants that. This makes you safer than you’ve ever been. The only reason I haven’t done it before is that it means you aren’t just with me. You’re with
The Underground.”

  “You are The Underground,” I say, thinking of what Marabella had revealed about Elizabeth today. “And why would you even want me by your side if I couldn’t accept that and all that comes with it?”

  His eyes glint. “I wouldn’t,” he says firmly. “And if I hadn’t made that decision before now, I wouldn’t have given you that bracelet to wear. But even more, I wouldn’t have asked you to keep it and put it on again by choice, not necessity.”

  No part of me questions that I belong with him, and my father’s advice about actions meaning more than words has never rung more true. I reach down and unhook the bracelet, catching it in my hand. “Now I’ll put it back on, by choice,” I say, my hand trembling with the swell of emotions I feel for this man, the clasp refusing the connection.

  Kayden’s hand closes over the bracelet and my wrist. “Until you know everything—”

  “My father said to look in a man’s eyes, and watch his actions, and you will know the true person. I have looked. I have watched. I know you. I know I want to stay with you.”

  “You don’t know the things I’ve done. You can’t know my actions or my reactions.”

  “I know all I need to know. Please, help me put it back on.”

  He stares at me, those pale blue eyes glinting a deeper blue, the air between us thickening before he leans in and cups my head for a deep, passionate kiss that’s over too soon. When it is, he stares at me another few beats, searching my face for something I hope he finds. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper.

  “You’re right. You’re not.” He reaches down and fastens the bracelet, and then does the most remarkable thing. He connects our palms, flattening The Hawk on his wrist against the one on mine, and in that moment there is understanding between us; there is commitment. There is a certainty that no matter what the future holds, no matter what the past reveals, we have decided we’re in it together.

  “There are many reasons I want this night to be over, starting with all the things I want to say and do to you,” he says.

  “There are many things I want to say and do to you, too.”

  His lips curve. “Well, then why the hell are we sitting here?” He kisses my hand. “Let’s go get this over with.” He releases me, shifts into gear, and pulls a fast, tight U-turn toward the party. “Any last-minute doubts?” he asks.

  “No,” I say. “I might not know all of my past, but I’m not Rapunzel in the tower. I want answers and freedom.”

  “Just remember that maybe nothing will come from tonight,” he warns. “It could be another event or ten, for all we know.”

  “Considering neither of us is good at waiting for things to happen, I really hope tonight is it.”

  “If I could force it I would, but letting Niccolo come to us is the ticket to the outcome that we want—not what he wants.” He turns into the half-moon driveway, and I lean forward to look at the incredible stone building hugged by six round pillars that seem to go on for miles and miles, the roof steepled and framed by two lion sculptures.

  “It’s almost castle-like,” I say, noting the railings and overlooks wrapping the top of the structure.

  “Try one of the oldest privately held palaces in Italy,” he says, stopping behind the line of cars waiting to reach the doorman. “It’s preserved in as much of the elaborate glory the royals that once occupied it chose to bestow on it.”

  “I’ve never been in a palace. But then, I’d never been in a castle before yours, either.” And the very fact that I know those words are true has me facing him. “See what I mean about my memory? When did I ever say things like that before today?”

  “You definitely haven’t.”

  “I feel really hopeful. If I can recover my memory before Niccolo figures out who I am, that could give us an extra advantage to negotiate with him. I mean, how will we even know if what he tells us is true?”

  “I’d like you to remember on your own,” he says, pulling up a few feet and idling again, “and I’m happy you’re feeling encouraged. But don’t bury yourself in pressure, sweetheart. We have resources to confirm whatever Niccolo might claim, and we’ll take everything with ten grains of salt.”

  “I want the control to be ours, not his.”

  Several valets in uniforms with yellow and green tassels dangling from the sleeves open the doors of the black sedan in front of us, and Kayden pulls us next in line for the door.

  “Sometimes other people’s control is the façade that gives you the power,” Kayden explains. “And that’s the kind of magic you use on a man like Niccolo.”

  I open my mouth when a woman exits the vehicle in front of us, her stunning full-length gown sparkling with white diamonds. “I feel underdressed, Kayden.”

  “Overdone is not the kind of attention we want,” he comments, while another woman steps out of the same car, and to my relief she is dressed in a short, elegantly simple cream dress.

  “Less is more,” Kayden reminds me, pulling us to the front door. “Remember that tonight.”

  As one of the valets steps to my door Kayden holds up his hand, stopping the man to speak to me. “I’ll get your coat before you get out. It’s a long, cold red-carpet walk up stairs that rival the Spanish Steps.” He exits the Jag to walk to the back of the vehicle.

  I wait for him, and I am not nervous, but rather eager to embrace this night. Action is what we both need and want. Hiding, always feeling afraid of what’s around the corner waiting to destroy me or those around me, wasn’t going to work for either of us much longer.

  Yet when my door opens, a rush of nerves overwhelms me, my mind flashing with an image of me on my knees, and that man, Niccolo or whoever he is, holding my hair. Pulling my hair.

  “Ella.”

  Kayden’s voice is silk on my nerves, where that memory had been sandpaper and razor blades. I look right and realize that he’s kneeling beside me, his hand holding mine. “Flashback?”

  “Yes. It was sudden and short but intense.”

  “We don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, we do,” I say, irritated at having allowed an asshole from my past to control me in the present.

  “We don’t,” he insists.

  “Don’t doubt me,” I say fiercely, facing him, my skirt riding high. Cold air zips along my bare skin, but I am not cold. Not when Kayden and I are suddenly staring at each other and his hand is on my leg, fingers resting on the lace of my thigh-high, a hot touch I welcome and crave. Because it’s him. Because he is right in every way that other man is wrong.

  “I don’t doubt you,” he promises softly, the air charged between us. “I have never doubted you.”

  He isn’t talking about this moment, any more than I was. Some part of me still fears the past and what it will do to us.

  “I’m afraid of losing me and us. And I hate that fear, but you matter to me—more than I think you understand. I just want you to know that.”

  His eyes glint hard. “I keep telling you: I’m not letting you go, and he’s damn sure not taking you from me.” He stands, taking me with him, his big body shielding mine while he slides my dress down my legs.

  “Thank you,” I murmur as my coat and the scent of him, spicy and rousingly male, wrap around me at the same time, and I slip my arms inside the wool.

  “Thank me,” he says, his voice low, almost rough, his fingers branding my hips, “by ending the question of what you’re wearing under this dress besides thigh-highs.”

  “Maybe I’m not wearing anything at all,” I tease, sounding breathless, because somehow, some way, in the middle of my blackouts and fears I am oh so very breathless.

  One of the valets says something to him in Italian, but before he responds to him, he leans in, his breath a warm fan on my skin as he murmurs, “Careful now, sweetheart. You tempt the beast and I’ll take you to a corner of the party and find out myself.”

  Heat zips through me, darn near turning to fire as he walks me to the curb with a quick, smoldering look b
efore turning to the valet, and I’m left with the distinct impression he might just make good on that warning. I watch him talk to the other man, power and confidence wafting off of him, and I’m amazed by how this man makes me feel consumed. And I welcome it, when escape was all I craved with the man in my flashbacks.

  Kayden laughs, a deep, sexy rumble from his broad chest, and the way my nipples instantly tighten proves how powerful a drug he is to me. I watch as he palms the man a ridiculously large bill before turning back to me, and I swear, the way he looks at me is like no one else exists. Like I am his moon, sun, and star, and I really do not believe anyone has ever made me feel that special.

  “Was that a hundred euros you gave him?” I ask as he drapes his arm over my shoulder and pulls me into the shelter of his body.

  “It pays to make friends with the staff.” As we head toward the mile-high red-carpeted steps, two men with cameras start taking photos of us.

  “And there’s the press,” I murmur. “Maybe we should stop and pose. That should make tonight the night.”

  “That would be a little too obvious,” he says. “Though I have no doubt that Niccolo hacks the press photos for these events. Just not as effectively as I do. Directly or indirectly, I make damn sure The Underground owns every important event in this city, even when I’m not in attendance.”

  “Like you own the neighborhood.”

  “The neighborhood is like a family, and The Underground has been head of the family for a good fifty years.”

  “You mean The Hawk has been the head of the family for all of those years.”

  “Yes,” he agrees. “Which means everything The Hawk does is watched, analyzed, and dissected. And as my woman, you inherit that attention. Be prepared to be badgered with probing questions from people with bad English.”

  It hits me then how much trust he’s putting in me—and it strikes me how profoundly important it is that he has sometimes trusted me more than I have myself. “I can handle it,” I promise.

  He wraps his arm around my neck and leans down to kiss me. “I know, Eleana.”