The sound of the bedroom door opening and shutting has me zipping my purse and facing the door at the same moment Kayden appears, his biker jacket telling me he’s not staying. He is so damn powerfully male that he consumes the small space, and me with it.
“That was about me, right?” I ask.
“Yes, but it’s handled, as is Carlo’s attitude.” He holds up the piece of paper Gallo left for me. “Tell me about this.”
“I told you all there is to tell,” I say, pressing my hands to the back of my jean-clad hips.
“Tell me again.”
“Gallo took assholeness to a whole new level, and I told him we were done talking. He left, I thought, and I didn’t want to be on the street with him, so I went to the bathroom. I’d barely locked the door when it was slipped underneath.”
“He left?”
“He walked toward the door, but it was behind me, so he must not have.”
“So you don’t know that Gallo put this under the door?”
“It’s logical.”
“But you don’t know.”
“I guess not.”
“What did Gallo say to you?”
I fold my arms in front of me, dreading this part of the conversation. “He all but told me one of your men was running his mouth. That’s how he knew you’d be gone today.”
Kayden slips the note inside his jacket pocket, his jaw hard. “I met with the police chief this morning about that favor he wants.”
“And Gallo knew.”
“Apparently so.”
“Does that mean the police chief turned on you?”
“He isn’t that foolish. Not with what he wants from me, and what I know about him that he doesn’t want anyone else to know. And the cold, hard fact, which Gallo might have told you, is that I will use it if I have to.”
“You’ve been very honest with me about everything not being squeaky clean or easy.”
Kayden stares at me for several beats. “What did he say to you?”
“He showed me pictures of you with various people he claims you consort with, while running down their list of sins.”
“What people?”
“Raul. Niccolo.”
“Niccolo?”
“Yes. But he didn’t seem to know anything related to me and him. Except he kept overusing my fake name, after saying he wanted to talk about my activities.”
“What activities?”
“It turned out to be my connection to your activities.”
“What activities?” he repeats.
“The connections to Raul and Niccolo, and there was a politician whose name I regretfully missed, who Gallo says employed you to either kill his wife or cover up her murder.”
He stands there, stone that cannot be broken, his eyes hard, his spine stiff, seconds ticking by before he says, “Why did you end the meeting?”
“He made a crass statement about a good fuck not making a good man.”
He closes the distance between us, stopping a step from touching me, the scent of him earthy and warm. “He made you doubt me.”
“No. He got me doubting me. He got at me and the amnesia. Part of the reason I went to that meeting was that reference to my ‘activities’ that I feared would sideswipe us, or get to your men before me. I know in my heart that I can’t be turned, but you can’t take that risk. You can’t operate as The Hawk with a woman who’s a mental light switch from becoming a problem.”
He snags my hips, his touch spiraling through me, the way everything about this man spirals through me. “This was never about me trusting you,” he declares. “This was about you trusting me. About you waiting to find out about me from me, not fucking Gallo.”
Suddenly, every word he’s spoken and every action he’s taken since pulling me into that alcove shifts and takes on a new light. It’s now about him daring to open himself up to me, about being raw and exposed, letting me see the blood of past wounds, while Gallo tries to cut them deeper.
“He can’t turn me against you,” I say, grabbing his jacket again. “I’m with you, Kayden. All the way, in every way.”
He backs me up, pressing me against the wall. “You say that now, but being with me is not roses and chocolates, Ella. With me comes every dark, hard-to-swallow secret of The Underground.”
“If Enzo’s death last night, and Gallo today, doesn’t prove I’m here to stay, I don’t know what will. I’m here. I’m not leaving.”
“I’m not just talking about Enzo or Gallo. I’m talking about me, and what this life does to me, and what it has made me. And I’m talking about us, and how that affects us.” He cups my backside and pulls me to him, my hand flattening on the solid wall of his chest. “You have no idea how dark I can be,” he declares, his voice a rough, low rumble. “You have no idea of the decisions I have to make, and how I cope with them. And if I didn’t have business to attend to right now, I’d show you.” His forehead touches mine. “I’d make you understand.” His cheek slides to mine, his breath a warm tease on my neck and ear. “I can protect you from everyone but me.”
These words hit a nerve I don’t understand, and my fingers curl around his shirt. “Don’t. Don’t protect me from you.”
“I’ve been cautious, Ella. I’ve been gentle. I’ve said I’ll demand everything and more from you, but I haven’t.”
I shove on his chest, forcing him to lean back and look at me. “Then you deny both of us the possibilities of what we could be.”
His eyes darken the pale blue to almost black. “I am—”
“Not him,” I say, knowing at least partially where this is coming from. “He didn’t push my limits like you want to. He didn’t escape with me. I was a possession he was free to punish—not please, tease, and pleasure. He took me to a sex club and tied me up and had a woman beat me. You would not do that. You are my escape. You make me forget that.”
“Until you see everything I am.”
“I am not afraid of who you are. I am afraid of who you won’t be when you’re with me, and what that does to us. So as of right now, be on notice. Fuck gentle. I demand everything and more. And don’t you dare give me anything less.”
“I am many things you haven’t tasted or touched, but this conversation isn’t about me denying you, or us, those things. It’s about me promising you that they’re coming.” He releases me without warning, leaving me limp against the wall, stunned to find him walking toward the door.
“But you think it’s the beginning of the end,” I say, my words halting him in the archway. “So I’ll just have to hang on tight enough for both of us.”
He finally faces me, his face all hard lines and shadows. “Do you think I helped that man kill his wife, or at least cover it up?”
“I don’t know what happened, but I believe that you make decisions that are honorable, or I wouldn’t be here. And if you think you could stop me from leaving if I chose to, you’re wrong. I’m resourceful.”
“If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have made it to that alleyway alive. We’re going to a formal political event tonight. I’ll make sure you have what you need. Be ready for the party by eight.” Then he disappears into the bathroom, his footsteps quickly fading, the bedroom door opening and closing, to seal me inside his world, not out, so much so that he’s taking me to this event. At least for now.
I press my palms to the wall for much-needed stability, stunned by what just happened—but one thing is crystal clear. I have looked into his eyes and seen inside his soul, and I am deeply, passionately in love with him. But to have that matter, I can’t just say the words. I have to show him. I have to fight with him and for him.
I can’t speed up that process, but I can remove an obstacle. My amnesia. I hurry to the stool again and sit down, pulling my phone from my purse. Tabbing through the numbers, I pull up Nathan’s number and dial the man who is not only my doctor but my hope right now.
“Ella,” he says two rings later.
“Can I see you? Or can you come here??
??
“Is everything okay? Is your head bothering you again?”
“I’m fine. The concussion seems to be gone. I just . . . I need to talk. About my amnesia.”
“Kayden told me you might. And yes. I can come there and I will, but I’m at the hospital. It’s nearly noon now; I’ll be there in a couple of hours if I can. I’ll meet you in the store.”
“Great. Thank you, Nathan.”
He hesitates. “I should warn you up front that that I might not have the answers you want.”
“I want you to make me remember.”
He laughs. “That’s about as reasonable as you asking me to lose ten pounds in twenty-four hours. Some things take time.”
“Is that what you told Kayden? That my memory will take time?”
“Let’s talk when I get there.”
“Avoidance is a four-letter word.”
“You can teach me some new ones when I get there.” He ends the call.
I grimace, setting the phone in my lap. I might not have the answers you want. That’s already not the answer I want, and I now know why Kayden didn’t directly respond when I asked him what Nathan had told him. Nathan didn’t give him the answer he wanted, either. And suddenly I wonder if he’s told Kayden that I’m unstable or unreliable. He might have even told him not to trust me.
Frustrated that I’m doing this to myself, I shove my phone back into my purse and zip it up. Standing, I slip the strap over my head and chest, keeping my phone and Charlie close at hand. My gaze travels down the closet, seeing the rows of Kayden’s clothes on one side, my limited wardrobe on the other.
This place, this man, is home to me now. I’m not letting it go. I need the trigger I was after when I came in here a short while ago, and my attention lands on the pink ballet slippers sitting on a wall of shelves. An image of my mother, my first dance instructor, with a huge smile on her face. I smile, too, but abruptly the feelings and the moment in time shift. Now there is pain, loss, heartbreak. Now my mother is lying in a hospital bed, and by her side is some man I do not like. She is close to death, and I don’t want to live this heartbreak again. I most definitely don’t want to know the man standing by her bedside, but I have to face those things. I have to face all things.
Marching forward, I pick up the slippers, steeling myself for the pain to follow and shutting my eyes. And I wait. And wait, and I will something to come to me, but I have nothing. Frustrated, I remember my lunch with Giada, and set the slippers down. Dancing for my memories will have to wait. And I wonder, not for the first time, what can be so horrific that I refuse to remember it? I have to talk to Nathan about controlled triggers. There has to be a way to drive my progress.
Leaving the closet, I walk into the bedroom, glancing at the clock, which reads twelve fifteen. I have forty-five minutes to kill before my lunch with Giada, and I pull my journal from my purse, opening it to a random page. I find one of the many butterfly drawings there, and while I now know they represent the necklace, for some reason, it still feels like it means something else. Or maybe the butterfly is a part of a memory I can’t quite reach. Desperate to fill the black holes of my mind, I decide that stimuli trigger memories, and since I won’t get that alone in this room, I’ll head to the store early. I shut the journal and replace it in my purse.
I quickly make my way to the main castle foyer, and as I head up the central tower steps toward the store, I hear, “Ella!”
I turn to find Giada rushing up the stairs toward me. While her all-black jeans, boots, and sweater would strike me as stylish another time, today I have a feeling she’s trying to stay low-key. “Thank God you’re early. I’m suffocating in that tower. Marabella and Adriel have been watching over me like a hawk.”
A Hawk. Kayden. He is The Hawk and right now, I am an extension of him. “Because last night was bad, Giada. I need to know what you said to Gallo.”
“I told him there were men here with guns. Nothing more.”
“Giada—”
“I didn’t tell him anything more.” She tears up. “I had just seen Enzo lying in his own blood. I was supposed to go on a date with him, Ella, and he was dying. He did die. I didn’t really know him, but I might have, and I hate The Underground.”
Stunned by this revelation, which doesn’t justify her actions but helps explain them, I pull her into a hug. “I know that hurt. I know it scared you.”
She sobs and I hold her for several seconds, before she makes a low, frustrated sound and pulls away from me. “This is why I hate Kayden.”
Protectiveness flares in me hard and fast, forcing me to tamp down on it just as quickly. “I know why you’re connecting this to The Underground, to the many tragedies in your life—but Kayden gave Enzo specific orders that he ignored.”
“Kayden tells those men when to pee.”
“Kayden gave him an order that he ignored,” I repeat. “And we all make choices, and we live or die with them.”
“Kayden gave him the job he was on, knowing it was dangerous,” she argues.
“Kayden tried to talk him out of the job. And when he finally let him take it, he told him to observe and report. Instead, Enzo charged after his prize—and he knew the risks.”
She glares at me and then storms past me to the store.
I follow. “Giada,” I say, but she ignores me, keying in the code to open the heavy wooden door arched in front of us, then staring forward. “Giada, damn it,” I growl. “Look at me.”
She faces me. “You’re fucking Kayden. You’re not objective.”
“Kayden is much more than a fuck to me,” I snap, irritated at her crassness, which matches Gallo’s a little too closely. “Do you think I’m not terrified that when he walks out of the door, he won’t come back?”
“Then get out while you can. Because mark my words: one day, he won’t come back.”
“Yes, he will. I have to believe that. And even if he doesn’t, I’m not giving up days of my life that could be spent with him, just because there might not be one more. This is who they are. They are The Underground, Adriel included. Like my father was in the Army. He was a risk taker. Kayden and Adriel are risk takers. Loving them means accepting them.” She tries to duck under the door, and I grab her arm, forcing her to look at me. “Loving them means accepting them,” I repeat. “Keeping them safe means accepting them—not distracting them, which could get them killed. If you can’t do that, I’m sorry, but you can’t stay here. You have to leave.”
“You can’t say that. Adriel says that.”
“This is Kayden’s home. Unless you’re able to do a one-eighty, you’re gone. And even then, it might be too late.”
“In other words, he’s going to kick me out. I should have known it.”
“You’re right. You should have. He’s The Hawk, and he carries every loss of life he’s experienced as a hole in his heart. He won’t let you be one of them. Or Adriel. And you’re going to get Adriel killed.”
“Now I’m the one putting him in danger?”
“Sweetie. He is part of The Underground—”
“He’s not.”
“He is. And every moment he denies it is misery to him.”
“What about me? What about how I feel?”
“Not everything is about you. We all lose people. We all hurt. And we’re all in danger when you act like you did last night. Grow up, Giada. And show some appreciation for Kayden, who lets you live here, and set up a fortune in a trust for you. And show some appreciation for your brother, who’s miserable running a damn store, when he wants to hunt.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Apparently, I know him better than you, because the hunt is in that man’s eyes. Let him be happy. You have a fortune in a trust fund. You can do anything. Be anything. Go anywhere.”
“I’m not leaving here. I’m not leaving my brother.”
“Then you have changes to make, and some real convincing to do,” I say. “Think about it.” I turn away and enter the store
, taking broad, adrenaline-laden steps, when I stop dead in my tracks at the realization that Adriel is standing there in front of me, his legs planted in a V, his arms folded over his chest.
I hold my breath, not sure what he overheard, or how he’s going to react. But as we stare at each other, there is less ice than before, and after several moments, he nods in appreciation.
I give him a nod in return. “I was going to have lunch with Giada, but I thought it best we stay in. Do Italians have pizza delivery?”
His lips quirk, his mood remarkably, palpably, lighter. “This isn’t ancient Rome. Of course we have pizza delivery.”
“I was hoping to hang out here. My tower is rather quiet and . . . empty.”
“I know the definition of the word quite well,” he surprises me by saying, lifting one hand toward an archway leading to a part of the store I’ve never visited. “You’ll find a full living room and kitchen there.”
“Thank you.” I start to walk away and pause. “I mentioned to Kayden that I’d like to help out here in the store.”
“And he said what?”
“He wasn’t receptive at the time,” I admit.
His lips quirk. “Let me guess. You plan to change his mind.”
“Not change his mind. Just . . . talk.”
“You talk quite effectively,” he comments dryly. “Let me know when you’re ready for the keys.”
“So . . . you’re okay with it?”
“I hate this fucking store.”
“Good,” I say, glancing around the store, surprised at how excited I am about where this is headed. “Because I think I could kind of love it, and I have a feeling you’ll be less of an asshole if I’m running it instead of you.”
“You think I’m an asshole, do you?”
“You think you’re an asshole,” I counter.
“Only when I have to be.”
“You never have to be with me.”