Demand (20 page)

“Apparently Italian men find self-proclaimed feminists intimidating.”

He studies me for several heavy beats, stunning me as he asks, “Do you know what that bracelet means?”

“Do you?” I challenge.

“That you're his woman.”

“Yes,” I say. “I am very much his woman.”

“And you know who, and what he, is?”

“I do know who and what he is. Do you know who, and what, Gallo is?”

“A man who doesn't like to color outside the lines, even when it might be to our benefit.”

“And yet he threatens me, and seduces the young woman who lives with us. That's outright scribbling in all the corners.”

“Are you telling me that Gallo is involved with Adriel's sister?”

“That's exactly what I'm telling you. She isn't part of any of this, and I respectfully request that you keep him away from her.”

He studies me for several moments. “You are bold for a woman so newly inserted into Kayden's life.” The word
inserted
hits a very bad spot in me, but I have no time to explore his meaning. “What do you think Kayden would do for me, should I grant your request?”

“I wonder what he will do should you
not
grant it.”

A man in uniform steps to his side, whispering something to the chief. A moment later the newcomer leaves, and while the chief's expression remains unchanged, I don't miss the subtle tightening around his mouth. “I'm afraid I have a situation to attend to. I'll handle Gallo and we'll talk again.”

He turns and leaves, and I have a bad feeling that “we'll talk again” translates to him calling on me for a favor. I scan for Kayden and start walking through the random clusters of sparkling dresses and tuxedos with no success. I finally spy him standing in profile, with a beautiful brunette woman, at the exact moment that she grabs his arm and leans her body into him. I suck in a breath and exhale as he immediately extracts himself. The woman looks at me and says something to Kayden, and I have déjà vu, remembering a similar incident in the bar with the bartender.

Sure enough, he responds as he had then, turning to seek me out. Rather than leaving, as I tried to do then, I hold my ground and he motions me forward. Not certain I really want to meet Little Miss Grabby Hands, who doesn't seem to be going anywhere, I force myself to sidestep several guests and make my way to his side. The instant I'm within his reach, Kayden shackles my waist and says in my ear, “You know—”

“Yes,” I say firmly. “I do.”

“Good,” he says, approval lighting his eyes before he turns to face the other woman. “Eleana, this is Sasha. She's one of ours.”

“You're so beautiful,” Sasha gushes, reaching out and stroking my arm, her accent not quite like everyone else's. “I love your green eyes,” she continues. “They're the color of grass on a perfect summer's day.”

I'm not sure what to make of her, and Kayden laughs. “As you can see, Sasha is a toucher and a talker, with a big personality, which ensures that she's well known at these events.”

Sasha points at her deep cleavage, and shakes her breasts. “These are why I'm well known.” She waves down her body. “And all of these goodies, too. Do you like?”

The woman has me blushing. “You're fabulous. And I wish I had your confidence. Is your accent Italian?”

“I am the best French import Italy has ever seen.” She adds, “
Je séduis les gens pour leurs secrets
.”

I blanch and repeat her words. “ ‘I seduce people for their secrets.' ”

Kayden turns to face me. “You understand French?”

“Yes. Or I think I do. Do you?”

“Fluently,” he confirms.
“Comment a été votre rencontre avec Donati?”

I repeat his question. “ ‘How was your meeting with Donati?' Kayden, I know French! How? Maybe I took it in school, but that doesn't feel right.”

“I have a thought on that,” he says, “but we'll talk about it later. How
did
it go with Donati?”

“I asked him to keep Gallo away from Giada, and he was trying to manipulate me into promising him a favor when a man in uniform came up to him, whispered something, and Donati left.”

Another interruption occurs as two men join us and start a conversation with Kayden that I of course can't understand.

Sasha listens a moment and rolls her eyes, stepping closer to me. “They want him to sit on some ridiculous board, which he'll never agree to join. I need to go to the toilet. You want to join me?”

“Yes,” I say, glad for a few minutes away from the crowd.

She nods and then interrupts the conversation, announcing our departure. Kayden leans down and whispers, “I'll get us out of here soon,” before Sasha links her arm with mine and leads me past the piano and violin, and then down a hallway that is blessedly free of other guests.

“Thank God,” she says, releasing me, her silliness evaporating along with her heavy accent. “These events are exhausting. Everyone wants something, including us.” She gives me a sideways look. “Be careful with Donati. Aside from his preference for quid pro quo, something about that man bothers me, and don't ask what, because I don't know. But I've been doing this long enough to trust my instincts.”

“How long have you worked for Kayden?”

“Since he took over France a few years back, but my family is made up of generations of Hunters and Hawks, most of them now dead.”

“So you transferred from France?” I ask, wondering if she's related to the prior Hawk in that region.

“A year ago, after I stupidly tried to seduce Niccolo's stepbrother.” She snorts. “That went badly.”

“Who is his stepbrother?” I ask, hoping a name might trigger a memory.

“He runs the French mob.”

“Wait. So the French and Italian mobs are one?”

“Oh no,” she says. “That was the idea when the two families married, but it didn't take long for the parents to end up dead, while their sons claimed control of their own regions.”

I gape. “You're saying they killed their parents?”

“Without a blink of regret,” she says.

“And who is the head of the French mob?”

She holds up a hand. “I'm sorry. I can't even speak that man's name. He's a monster.”

He obviously hurt her and I hate to push, but . . . “Who—”

She shakes her head at the entry to the bathroom. “Not a topic for a public place.”

Frustrated, I nod and we enter a huge bathroom with green marble floors and at least a dozen stalls. Sasha's phone rings and she digs it from the silver evening purse hanging from her shoulder. As she sits down on a leather couch, I keep walking toward the row of stalls.

Stepbrothers. Mafia. Murdering your own parents. It's all insanity, and I'm suddenly transported back to the kitchen of my family home, with my father lying in his own blood. I see the blood. I see the gun. I feel the trigger against my finger when I kill his attacker. Shaking myself, I blink, and I'm standing at a bathroom stall and don't remember how I got here. The same way I blacked out right after Enzo's death.

Concerned that Nathan shouldn't have dismissed that incident as trauma, I enter the stall, then lean my head against the locked door. I know that my flashbacks are always trying to tell me something. My father was murdered, ripped from my life, while these mobsters, these
monsters
, chose to murder their parents for personal gain. But what does that mean to me? Is this about the men who killed my father? Or . . . maybe this isn't about my father at all, but some lesson he gave me. I blink, and I'm transported back to the kitchen again, hiding in the pantry with my mother.

There are crashing sounds and muffled gunfire, like a silencer is being used, and my mother and I both jump. And then there is silence. Oh God, the silence is deafening, and I wait for my father to come to us, but he does not. I can't take it anymore. I jerk away from my mother, every instinct telling me my father needs help.

I open the door and gasp at the sight of him lying in a puddle of blood. I dash forward and fall to my knees.

“Dad. Dad.”

My mother drops down beside me, bursting into tears as she starts begging him to stay alive. “Gun,” my father murmurs. “Ella . . . take . . . gun.”

I look down to find it at his fingers and I take it. “I have it.”

“Two . . . men.”

The kitchen door bursts open, a man in a mask and all black appearing, and my father hisses, “Shoot,” and instinct takes over. I raise the gun and fire at the man in black, and he tumbles forward.

My eyes pop open.
Two men.
That's what comes to me.
Two men
. Is it the
stepbrothers
?

A knock sounds on the door and I jolt. “Open up,” Sasha says urgently and I immediately comply. She shoves her way into the stall and shuts the door behind her. “We have a problem,” she says very softly.

Alarm bells go off. Is she the problem? “What are you talking about?” I whisper back.

“Niccolo is here.”

S
asha might as well have punched me in the chest. “Niccolo can't be here.”

“And yet he is,” she whispers. “And don't say his name.”

“You just did.”

“
I
didn't have a choice; I needed you to know who exactly I was talking about.”

“Right,” I say, laughing without humor. “He who shall not be named. I thought that was his brother.”

“They're named Bastard and Bitch,” she says, “and this isn't Harry Potter. There is no magic wand to make the one that is here disappear.”

“And just so I don't get confused. Is he the Bastard or the Bitch?”

“The Bastard.”

“Are we just going to hide in the stall while the Bastard is in the building?”

“We're waiting for Kayden to call,” she says, and as if on cue, my phone rings.

I reach for my purse and my shaky fingers fumble on the zipper. “Stupid adrenaline,” I murmur, while Sasha reaches down and opens it, handing me my phone. “Thank you.” I slide my finger across the screen to answer, and will myself to be my father's daughter and get a grip. “I just heard,” I say. “What's the plan?”

“Are you okay?” Kayden asks.

“Peachy,” I say, repeating a word I somehow know was my mother's.

Admiration fills Sasha's eyes with my flippant remark, but Kayden isn't as won over by my bravado. “Ella, sweetheart—”

“I'm fine. I promise. What happens now? Do I march out there and let him see me?”

“That is the last thing you will do,” he says, his voice a hard command.

“It gets it over with.”

“It puts you within his reach, before I can ensure that you won't be in the future. Sasha is going to take you out a side door, where Adriel is waiting with a car.”

“Why not you?”

“If Niccolo sees me, and hears my woman is present, he'll want to meet you. I need to stay out of sight.”

“Won't it be weird that I just disappear, and you leave alone?”

“We're going to make Niccolo think you're leaving with me.”

“How is that possible?”

“Ella, I know you want to feel some sort of control right now, but I need you to find that in me. I had a plan for every possible problem that could be thrown our way when we came here tonight, including Niccolo.” He softens his voice. “I've got you, and this. I promise.
Trust me.
”

“I do. Completely.”

“Good. Then let's go home and get naked.”

“Yes, please. How do we make that happen?”

“Sasha knows what to do. Follow her lead. She won't fail you.”

“Got it.” I look at Sasha. “I'll follow Sasha, and Annie and I will see you soon.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he says, ending the call. “I'm ready,” I tell Sasha.

“I need to know who Annie is,” she says.

I reach in my purse and remove my gun. “My best friend.”

“Good friends, good times. But right now I think you should zip it into your purse, out of temptation's reach.”

She's right. I might shoot Niccolo, and while that would be enjoyable, it would probably mean I'd end up dead, too. And I don't plan to go down with him. I zip Annie inside. “Now what?”

“We go.” Female voices sound outside the door and she grimaces, whispering, “Go along with my craziness. It's actually kind of fun.” She releases me, and I nod.

She smiles, and then motions to let me know that we're a go. A moment later she opens the door and exits into the outer room. “Thank you, Eleana,” she sobs. “Please don't tell him I got this upset. It makes me look bad.”