Demand (16 page)

“Yes, ma'am.”

She motions to the closet. “Go try on clothes, and call me if you don't find a perfect dress.”

“I don't know what that means for this event. Any idea as to what I should expect?”

“Arrogance, money, and power.”

“Kayden,” I joke.

“He has humility. Most of them do not. So expect these dresses to be outrageously expensive, since tonight there will be plenty of judgment of your worth.” She starts for the door and pauses to look at me. “He never told Elizabeth the secrets of The Underground. He loved her but he shielded her, though ultimately he knew one day she'd see everything. And because that day never came, he never knew if she really loved
all
of him.” She leaves without another word.

I stare after her, thinking of my encounter with Kayden earlier today, and one thing replays in my head. He has been alone in his guilt for a very long time, but then, wasn't he always alone, if he never allowed anyone to see every shade of right and wrong that he might be?
You have no idea how dark I can be
. It is then that I think,
I have a dark side, too
. That's why Kayden and I connect. We are alike in ways neither of us know. Surprised by these unexpected ideas, I suck in a breath and wait for my mind to show me some horrible atrocity—perhaps the very one I've been hiding from. But nothing comes to me.

What does come to me is Marabella's story about Giada and Gallo, and the journal I stupidly left lying around. I suddenly want to know how damning anything inside might be if it was shown to Gallo.

Exhaling, I hurry into the closet and sit down on the bench, pulling my purse over my head to remove the journal, and I open it down the center. The first page I turn to is a list of bullet points:
Tied to a bed. Cold. Scared.
I flash back once more to that night, and I can feel that man, whoever he is, naked against me as he declares,
“There is always a price for power, but losing you will not be mine. I protect what is mine.” He leans into me, his cheek pressed to mine, his lips at my ear to add, “And you are mine.”

Swallowing hard, I read the next note.
As long as he is alive, that man will never let me go.
I slam the journal shut, deciding anything Giada read inside will cause me, and Kayden, problems. I set it next to me and remove Charlie from my purse, letting the cold steel comfort me. “He
will
let me go,” I say vehemently, before I set the gun on top of the journal. “He will.”

Welcoming an escape from the past, I pick up the black bag Kayden told me to open alone and pull out all of the black tissue. Inside is a rectangular red velvet box. My heart starts to pound with welcome excitement, and I pop open the lid, and suck in air. Inside is a gorgeous bracelet with a silver and black hawk in the center that looks incredibly like the tattoo on Kayden's wrist; the spread wings are etched with diamonds, while four thin delicate black strands on each side make up the band. This is not something he randomly picked out. I shut the lid, setting the box next to Charlie, and pull the card from the bag.

Wearing this means that you are mine to protect, and anyone who harms you will pay a price. Wear this tonight and choose to protect yourself. Wear it again, and choose me—but only when you understand what that means. Right now, you do not.

—Kayden

I stare down at the phrase,
You are mine to protect
. And despite the many ways every specific word Kayden chose changes the context and the promise of everything I've asked for and demanded, it's so eerily similar to those in my flashback that a chill runs down my spine.

By six o'clock, I've narrowed my dress choices to two, picked out my lingerie for the night, danced awhile, and Marabella has taught me a “party” list of Italian words while cleaning up the mess Kayden and I made in the living room the prior night. It's time to color my hair, and out of the three choices provided, I choose to be adventurous with a deep, chocolate brown instead of medium brown. If I can't be red, I want to find a shade I can love.

By seven o'clock, not only is my hair sleekly flat-ironed, it's a shiny, gorgeous brown that I think might just fit that “love” bill. Since Kayden has yet to arrive and I'm nervous, I decide to go ahead and get dressed. I start by putting on a long black Valentino dress, but the sparkle in the gown doesn't quite feel right and I change into a sleeveless, knee-length, velvet Gucci gown. Once I've zipped myself into the snug silhouette, I decide the exposed horizontal seams and yoke lace neckline, which matches the lace of the hemline, delivers a look that is elegantly sexy and understated, and I love it. The outfit is completed with Gucci heels and a small evening bag, both also lace-trimmed. Regrettably, the bag isn't large enough to allow Charlie to join the party, but Kayden will be with me, and I have no doubt he'll be well armed.

Next, I need to put on the bracelet, but I really want to wait for Kayden and tell him what it means to me. I set its box on the bathroom sink next to my purse, hands on my hips. Okay, then, I'm done until Kayden arrives. I walk to the bedroom and it's ten minutes until eight. Obviously, we're going to be late to the party, or just not go. My cell phone rings from inside my new purse on the bathroom counter, and I answer quickly.

“Hello.”

“Are you ready?”

I glance at the velvet box. “About three minutes from done.”

“I'm waiting in the center foyer.”

“Oh . . . okay. I'll be right down.” I end the call. Why didn't he dress here with me? He'd literally have to have showered and dressed elsewhere. I'm confused and I feel upset, and I tell myself I'm overreacting. He had important business today. Where he got dressed shouldn't matter, and I stare at the velvet box. Inhaling, I open it, staring down at the striking diamond-studded hawk in the center. So much for the romantic, dramatic proclamation I'd wanted to make when I put it on.

I reach for the bracelet and put it on, and it fits perfectly, as does the band, the hawk so like the one Kayden has etched into his wrist. He fits me perfectly, and in my heart and soul, I know that no past life will change that. I reach down and trace one of the diamond-studded wings, and this is truly the most unique, stunning piece of jewelry I've ever seen. The butterfly was gorgeous, but this is . . . Wait. My brows knot together.
The most unique, stunning piece of jewelry I've ever seen.
I smile with the realization that I
know
this to be a fact, when up to this point, most things have been uncertain. There was no “the best I ever had” or “the favorite thing I've ever done or seen” before this moment. My mind is shifting, opening up. I feel it, and suddenly my mood is lighter, and I am optimistic.

Eager to share this news with Kayden, I pick up my purse and walk into the closet, retrieving the Gucci dress coat I've chosen for the night before hurrying from the bedroom and down the hallway. At the bottom of the stairs, though, I am suddenly nervous about him not dressing here, wondering if I've read him wrong about where we stand. This idea has me pausing before opening the door separating me from the central foyer, where I know Kayden is waiting. Lifting my arm, I stare at the hawk on my wrist. I read it as a sign of a growing bond, but maybe it's really only about protection. I'll know when I see him, I decide. But I still find myself shifting my coat to cover it before pressing the button to lift the door.

I step to the center of the archway, waiting for the door to lift and reveal the main castle foyer. Seconds tick by, feeling slow when they are fast, and within a few breaths the barrier is gone, and Kayden is standing directly in front of me, a perfectly fitted tuxedo hugging every tall, broad, perfect inch of him. He owns it just as well as he owns denim and leather, like he owns everything around him. Like he does me—and that is trust. A deep, complete trust that my past says I should have for no one, yet I have it for him.

I want to tell him this, but all that comes out is, “Hi.”

Those pale, pale blue eyes of his answer with a fast, intimate sweep up and down my body, before he snags my hips and pulls me to him.

“Hi,” he replies, aligning our lower bodies and removing more than the space between us. I know now that we are not separate, but together. “You,” he declares, his voice low and silky, “are breathtaking in every way.”

“And you,” I say, flattening my hand on his chest, feeling his heart thundering the way mine is, “really
are
beautiful, Kayden Wilkens.” I search his face, finding starkness in his eyes that I want to erase but know I cannot. “How bad was it with Enzo's mother?”

“Bad enough that if you and I could be fucking it out of my head right now . . .”

“And yet you dressed somewhere else.”

“I wasn't in a good place, and tonight, before this party we need to attend, was not the time for you to see that part of me.”

“Is there ever going to be a time you show that part of yourself to me?”

“Yes. Or you wouldn't be going to this party with me.”

“Promise me, Kayden.”

“I promise you, Ella. Just not yet.”

“I'd reject that answer, but I know we have a party to go to, so I guess we're just going to have to stick to the plan.”

“And that would be what?”

“There's going to be some fighting before we get to the fucking.”

He wraps me in his arms and presses his cheek to mine. “And what if I don't want to fuck you? What if I want to make love to you, Ella?”

I lean back to look at him, and in his eyes, the starkness of moments before is now tenderness and passion. There is an open door I needed so damn bad tonight. “Can we do both?”

“We
will
do both.” He brushes his lips over mine, a whisper of a touch I feel everywhere, and I wish he were touching me now, not later. “Many times,” he adds, seeming to reluctantly release me, before inching up his sleeve to check the time. But this time, instead of seeing the watch, it's the Hawk beneath it that has my attention, reminding me of the bracelet yet to be revealed.

“We need to get moving,” he says, draping his arm around my shoulders and heading toward the main foyer. “Chief Donati will be there tonight and I don't want us to miss him.”

“Please tell me Gallo won't be there, too,” I say as we cross the foyer.

“He won't,” he says, opening the door leading to the garage and allowing me to enter the stairwell and start down the narrow path.

“This event is by VIP invitation only,” he adds following me down, “and mostly high-ranking politicians, elected officials, and all their cronies.”

“Does that make us their cronies?” I ask over my shoulder.

“That makes us their biggest wish they'll never get.” He catches up with me and opens the garage door for me. “And that's power, sweetheart. You'll see that at the party.”

On that note, I enter the surprisingly warm, well-lit garage and see the ridiculously expensive shiny blue Pagani Zonda that ironically, considering the statement he just made, was given to him as payment for a job. “Why is the police chief's presence tonight so important?” I ask when he steps to my side. “Is it about the favor you owe him?”

“It's about the favor he won't get if he doesn't keep Gallo away from you. Which car, sweetheart?” he asks, indicating the four F-TYPE Jags lined up on the opposite side of the garage.

“I love the ice blue,” I say, “but black feels very James Bond, like you in that tuxedo.”

He laughs and walks to the rack of keys on the wall. “Just call me 007, sweetheart. And since we're talking cars, we need to get you one of your choosing soon.”

“No, thank you,” I say as we walk toward the black Jag. “I don't want to drive on roads the size of sidewalks, in a car worth more than some people make in a year.”

“If you scrape it up, we'll fix it,” he says, dismissing my concern.

“Jags are not meant to be scraped up and fixed. And I know these cars are your pride and joy.”

He opens the passenger door for me. “I couldn't give a flying fuck about these cars. They're metal. They're replaceable. And they are not you. I'll put a driver on call for you until you change your mind.” He opens the passenger door for me. “Then you can come and go as you please without the confines of what's walkable. Let me put your coat in the trunk.” He takes it from me, already clicking the key chain and moving away.

But I'm not thinking about the coat. I'm not thinking about cars. My mind flickers with a memory, and I flatten my hand on the roof of the car. I know why I'd been tied to that bed for two hours, why I'd been punished, and it shakes me to the core. I'd gone shopping without permission. Who was I then? Why would I allow anyone to treat me like that?

“What are my boundaries?” I call out to Kayden, not even sure where the word
boundaries
comes from.