Haven (3 page)

Did he feel the power, too? I doubted it. My gut said it was all for me. “No, it’s cool. I’m okay.”

Mark remained unconvinced, but released me. I sought more Hot Guy TV, only to discover Lorenzo blocked my way, a huge scowl marring his handsome face.

“Stay here.” His command, laced with pure steel, grated on my already over-sensitized nerves.

Big brother overkill. I rolled my eyes, uninterested in playing. “Not you, too. I’m fine.” I sidestepped to catch a glimpse of Hot Guy before Lorenzo crowded me again. We performed the sidestep dance twice more. I stopped, hands on hips. “Cut it out, Lorenzo.”

“Stay here.” His tone brooked no argument. Well, unless you were his feisty little sister.

I stepped into him as quickly
as my heels would allow, forcing him to back up. I darted around him but came to an abrupt halt.

My stunning, magnetic bad boy had company now, and the guy standing next to him in a gorgeous gray designer suit caused my brain to wage a weird tug-of-war with itself. I know that guy, no I don’t, yes I do, no I don’t, oh yes I do, oh no I don’t.

Prep-school handsome with wholesome, short blond hair, the new guy’s face begged to grace the cover of Nice Guy Magazine. He dealt me a dazzling smile while raising a hand in front of my guy’s chest. A not-so-subtle command to stay put.

My stomach knotted. This man, with his good looks and trust-me expression, pushed my stranger danger button—hard. I didn’t like his too-perfect face, the apparent power over my hot guy, or the way his green eyes said he knew me, body and soul.

Wait. How do I know his eye color? Too far away to see…

I know him.
“No.” I shook my head, trying to deny my gut instinct.

“
Cazzo
,”
Lorenzo cursed. “Adrian. Keep her here. Right here.” The two men exchanged a we’ve-got-a-secret look.

Adrian slipped his hand into mine and gave it a little squeeze, meant to be reassuring, but I wasn’t buying, nor were Mark and Ren. They hovered on high alert, bodies primed for battle, gaze flitting from my brother and Adrian to the two strangers across the way.

“Lorenzo, do
you
know those guys?” My gaze latched onto my bad boy. His hungry eyes called me. I took a step in his direction. Anticipation flitted across his face and my stomach clenched, longing for him. Adrian and my brother pulled me back.

“What’s wrong with you guys?” I hissed.

Lorenzo adjusted his suit jacket, though it was already perfect. “
Per favore
, Carina, for once in your life, do as I say. You do need to meet, but I hadn’t planned for it to be here. I didn’t expect them both—”

He broke off, hand fisting. Worry passed through his brown eyes. “Wait here. I mean it.”

He gave Adrian a hard look and stalked off to join the other men.

I started to follow, but Adrian spoke up. “Don’t do it, babe.”

I rounded on him. “What’s going on with you and my brother? And those guys?”

Adrian shrugged, avoiding my questions and gaze.

“Why don’t you want me to go over there?” Not that I wanted to go near the green-eyed devil, but the other one? Definitely.

I pivoted and scanned the hall. My handsome bad boy was gone. “Damn. Where did he go?”

“Where did who go?”

My jaw dropped. “Are you seriously going to pretend there wasn’t another guy over there? A super hot guy checking me out? And throwing some freaky—”
and orgasmic
“—power my way?”

Adrian ran a hand through his hair and over his mouth. “Look, Rina, I—”

He froze, face blank.

“Adrian?” I snapped my fingers in front of his face. No reaction. Empty blue eyes. I grabbed his shoulders and shook. “Adrian.”

No response.

Mark and Ren stood frozen, too, eyes glazed and vacant.

Heart pounding, I made a one-eighty, searching for the source of the spell because it had to be magic, what else? I half expected Tiffany, though I knew the police detained her. I spotted the security guards, a couple of art lovers, and a server with a tray of champagne glasses, all immobile. Living statues.

This is bad. I made a beeline for my brother, who argued with Mr. Preppy judging by my brother’s many sharp hand gestures. “Lorenzo.”

He took one look at my worried face and surveyed the hall. His expression darkened. “Dammit, Thomas, don’t do this.” He strode over and hugged me. “
Sorellina
,” he murmured. “
Mi dispiace di non avertelo detto prima
.”

Again, his loving display stunned me. I stepped out of his embrace. “I don’t understand. What’s happening? Why are you apologizing? Did you do this?”

“No.”

I gestured at the stranger my head told me wasn’t a stranger at all. “Did he mess with my friends? And those other people?”

“Carina...”

“He did, didn’t he? Shit, he’s a warlock.” It explained the Popsicle People. Hands clenched into fists, I stalked up to him. My plan was simple. Knock out warlock, break spell. Easy.

I rushed him and swung a hard and fast right cross at his jaw. In my mind, I scored a KO but in reality, I hit air. I spun around to spot him several feet away in the Italian gallery entryway.

He raised a champagne bottle. “Come,
cara mia
.
Vieni qui
.” He disappeared into the gallery in a superhuman blur of speed. The unnatural movement startled me, but not enough to deter my anger.

Yeah, I would come, but first, “Gun. I need a gun.”

Mark and Ren were armed. Given their current state of gone-fishin’, they wouldn’t miss their weapons.

Lorenzo shook his head. “No guns. He’s not a warlock and he won’t hurt you.” He gestured at the gallery but I refused to budge.

“No one can move that fast. That’s not normal. We need weapons.”

“Trust me,
sorellina
.”

I brushed off the calming hand he placed on my shoulder. “Only
if you tell me your security goons have this place surrounded.”

“We don’t need protection,” Lorenzo insisted. “Well, not from him. My men will ensure our privacy, though.”

“But wait, what about my boys?” I couldn’t leave them vulnerable.

“Don’t worry.” Lorenzo whistled and several men in black swarmed the area, taking charge of my ice cube friends and the frosty bystanders.

I acquiesced. “Fine. Let’s go kick some preppy butt.”

~ * ~

Thomas awaited us by a large wall plaque reading
The Tranquilli Collection
and the several paintings my reclusive uncle Maurizio had donated from his estate in Italy. Interesting location choice. Clearly intentional.

“Champagne?” Thomas offered two glasses.

I ignored him and stalked around a marble bench to put some distance between us. Thomas might have clean-cut, boy-next-door good looks, but so did a lot of serial killers. And his ability to freeze people was straight up bad news.

I gave the man my best don’t-fuck-with-me glare. He flashed an audacious smile and his eerie green eyes glinted with amusement. The grin highlighted his sculpted cheeks and dimpled chin. I noticed the pallor of his skin—as pale as me and smooth, like he’d never grown any facial hair.

Lorenzo took the flutes from Thomas and passed one to me. “Carina, this is Thomas. Thomas Ward.”

“Yeah, you said that. Wait, did you say Ward? As in W-T?” That explained his familiarity but didn’t explain his evil super power and why he’d used it on my friends.

“Yes, and—” Lorenzo downed half his champagne. A fascinating and uncharacteristic display of nerves.

“And what?” I gestured to Thomas. “Why are we here with this guy?”

“It’s a long story.”

I quirked my brows, not feeling like story time while my guys were frozen man dolls and Hot Guy was around somewhere… “Make it a short one.”

“I can’t do that,
sorellina
.”

“Stop calling me little sister,” I grumbled, my patience for chitchat dissipating fast.

“Just listen—”

“You’re not saying anything.”

“If you’d calm down for a second—”

I huffed. “Calm down? Easy for you to say. You haven’t been attacked by a witch, bullied by your big brother, and accosted by a wizard, all in one day.”

“He’s not a—”

I raised a hand. “Don’t want to hear it.”

Thomas observed our inability to communicate, a bemused expression on his preptastic face. I stabbed an accusing finger in his general direction. “And
you
. I’d like to say it was nice to meet you, but I’d be lying. Take your hex off my friends. Then we’re done here.”

He laughed. The sound of his delight raised the fine hairs on my arms. “Oh no,
cara mia
. This is the beginning, or rather, the exciting middle. Would you like to see how it all began?”

Great. Cryptic talk. My favorite.

I placed my glass on the marble bench. I didn’t have time for this. “Okay, Mister Crazy, I’m leaving now. You fix my boys.”

Thomas flashed perfect white teeth. “Ah, little one, how I have missed your fire.” Smooth as silk, his voice caressed my arms, a tangible touch of power I ignored, more interested in his words.

“What do you mean you’ve missed me? I don’t know you. I don’t.”

Faulty memory.

I shook my head to derail the thought and backed away. Thomas moved in a blur of speed, reappearing before me. Startled by his sudden movement, I tottered on my heels. He grasped my elbows to steady me. When I tried to extricate myself, he tightened his grip.

My heart rate skyrocketed. Bone-crushing strength. He was unnaturally strong.

I forgot every bit of my self-defense training. “Let go.” Fear left my palms sweaty and my voice raspy.

He shook his head. “You know me,
cara mia
, and I you—better than you know yourself at the moment. But we shall remedy that soon enough.”

My heart skipped a beat and Lorenzo protested. “Thomas. Don’t. Not like this.”

Lost in his green gaze, I couldn’t move.

“Admit it. You feel our connection.” His demand rang like a chime, triggering feelings with no memories to attach themselves to.

“No.”
Oh yes I do, oh no I don’t, oh yes I do
. My head hurt, the pain magnified by his cold fingers digging into my arms.

Thomas’s laugh held no humor. “I think you do. But let us start with the others. Look, little one. Look upon your family.”

He guided me to a specific painting of a young, happy couple in evening attire. Bronzed and tall, like my brothers, with the same regal cheekbones and proud Roman nose, thick, ash brown hair and milk chocolate eyes. My parents looked nothing like me, but I recognized them.

“Tell me what you see.” The order in his tone rang clear in the gallery.

I bristled and refused to speak. Hate bullies.

“Speak.”

“My parents.” Unable to stop myself, the words slipped out. How did he do it? I glanced at Lorenzo. “I thought you said he wasn’t a warlock.”

“He’s not.” My brother glowered at the other man but continued to let him manhandle me. I allowed it too.

What’s wrong with us?

“Then what is he?” I frowned at Thomas. “Who are you?”

“Your uncle.”

My mouth opened and closed a few times. My mind upgraded Thomas to Seriously
Delusional Serial Killer and I protested the insanity of his words. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re about my age. And you’re blond.” And clearly
bat shit crazy. “You can’t be my uncle. Now let me go, you nut. My arms are going numb.”

All traces of humor left his face. “You would deny me?”

“Back off.”

He forced me to another painting. “Him?”

Lorenzo made a strangled sound. “That’s enough, Thomas.”

Thomas ignored him. “Would you deny him, too?”

My stomach somersaulted and landed in my throat. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t deny my instant connection with the man in this painting, his skin like fine china, pale and perfect, his face delicate
and
chiseled with high cheekbones and a smallish chin. Almost feminine, yet at the same time masculine. Full red lips, slightly
narrow nose. Thick black lashes framed dark eyes. Long dark chocolate hair styled in perfect ringlets surrounded his breathtaking face and spilled over his shoulders. He wore a frilly
white shirt open to the waist over tight black pants and black boots, his body tall, lean, and strong.

It wasn’t the fact he was the most beautiful man on the planet, or that he stood next to the grand piano in my family
home. No. Truth hummed in my brain. Ties to this man jangled, as if they ran through my blood and demanded I acknowledge him. His outstretched hand beckoned.
Come, Carina. Come
.

“That’s—” I cleared my throat. “It’s my Uncle Maurizio. My
Zi. Zio Zi
.”

“Yes, very good, Carina.”

“But I don’t understand. I’ve never even met him before, have I? And is that my piano?”

“He gave it to you for your sixth birthday and taught you how to play it. As a child, you entertained us both on many occasions.”

I shook my head. “I don’t believe you.” Don’t want to believe you…

“No? Then let us open the door in your mind and return to the beginning. Thus we will separate lie from truth.”

“Door?” My skin crawled, shoulders tensing. Faith spoke of doors during her vision earlier. Cracked ones, in my mind? God, does this guy, my so-called uncle, have something to do with my memory issues?

Lorenzo wrenched me away from the other man. “
Basta
, Thomas. Enough.” He wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders, warmth to battle the chill icing my skin. “This is not the way.”