Demand (24 page)

“It's a long shot, and I don't have enough to go on. Just the year that he died, and that he had a wife, and a daughter he left behind, with red hair.”

“Would that make me a Hunter?” My eyes go wide, and I dismiss the fleeting memories of being a teacher that just didn't feel right. “Could David and I have been on a hunt for another division of The Underground, and I was never really engaged to him?”

“I've made absolutely certain that you, or any incarnation of you, have no connection to The Underground prior to meeting me. Could you have been working for someone else? I've considered it, but turned up nothing.”

He stands and takes me with him. “I need to throw on some clothes and be ready to debrief with Matteo before we go to bed. I'll have him cautiously do some digging around about your father. But grab some slippers. There's something I want to show you.”

“W
hat is it?” I ask, concerned that the bombshell of Niccolo showing up tonight isn't the one I face.

“Relax,” he says, brushing my hair behind my ear. “It's just something special to me.”

“Now I'm really curious,” I say, letting him lead me to the closet. “Where is it? What is it?”

“I left it in my jacket in the other room,” he says, grabbing a long-sleeved gray T-shirt from a hanger and pulling it over his head. “And you have to wait to see.”

Eager to find out what his version of “special” is, I ditch my robe for black leggings and a black sweater, while he pulls on sweats, and it's not long before we're stepping into the chilly, creepy hallway.

“I swear I hate this hallway,” I murmur, snuggling close to his side, his arm wrapping my shoulders. “It always gives me a haunted feeling.”

“Ghost and goblins are part of the charm of the place,” he teases. “As is a great kitchen stocked with food, where we are headed. I haven't had anything I'd call a meal since lunch.” He glances at his watch. “And it's midnight. No wonder.”

“My stomach is actually growling,” I reluctantly admit, letting him turn me toward our kitchen, but hating that our “special” something is delayed by food. We make it all of two steps through when it hits that I would have noticed the kitchen light being on as it is now, earlier. “Wait,” I say, stopping us, and turning to face him. “You said the kitchen light was on when you got here?”

“Yes. It was.”

“It wasn't on when I got here,” I say. My brow furrows. “And our bedroom door was open and the light was off when I got here, too, and that didn't feel right.”

“It had to be Marabella.”

“She doesn't leave things out of order. And why would she enter after I did and not check on me?”

“I'm sure she was afraid you'd be asleep. As for why she might leave things out of order, Giada and Gallo have her pretty rattled. But we can use the iPad in the kitchen to check the security footage, after you feed me.”

I laugh. “If you think I'm cooking, we had better call Marabella, because if I know how to cook, it's traumatic and I've blocked it out.”

He laughs. “Traumatic. Yes, well. For a feminist, I can imagine it would be.”

“Don't even go there,” I say as we enter the kitchen and he leads me around the island. “Because the whole point of being a feminist is that I can choose to cook or not cook.”

“You sure know a lot about this stuff,” he says, stopping us in front of the fridge and opening the door.

He's right. I do, and I have no idea why. But before I can really analyze why, he's already offering our dinner choices. “We have a new batch of spaghetti,” he says, glancing from the fridge to me. “I'm guessing that's why Marabella came in earlier.”

“Which reminds me. She wants to set up days to cook and clean for us.”

“You two work it out,” he says. “And how do you feel about skipping the spaghetti and eating Kellogg's Coco Pops?”

“Coco Pops? Are they like American Cocoa Puffs?”

“Basically the same thing, different name. And much to Marabella's distress, I love the damn things, which means I have to sneak them in when she's not watching.”

“Coco Pops it is, then,” I say, laughing, and together we gather bowls, the cereal, and a jug of milk before settling at the table.

“So when did this Coco Pops obsession start?” I ask, filling my bowl with cereal and eager for a further glimpse into the man behind The Hawk.

“College,” he says. “The whole ‘get drunk and eat an entire box of cereal' routine.”

“Drunks are not in control,” I say. “You are, therefore I can't imagine you drunk.”

“Neither could Kevin, which is why that phase lasted about three months.”

“So you went to college here?”

“Right here in this neighborhood,” he says, pouring milk into my bowl and then his. My gaze catches on the watch, and just that easily, I'm in the past. There's another hand. Another watch.
He
touches my arm.
He
says my name,
Ella
, and I hear his voice,
really hear his voice
, for the first time since my amnesia. It's deep, accented. Dominant.

“Ella?”

At the sound of Kayden's voice, I blink and shake myself, only to realize that I'm holding his arm, right above the watch. “Please tell me I didn't black out.”

“I think you did,” he says. “Is this happening a lot?”

“A few times since Enzo got shot. Nathan says it's trauma, but I want to talk to him again.” I release his arm, and he catches my hand.

“What does the watch mean to you?”

“
Him
,” I say without hesitation. “And I just heard his voice for the first time ever in my mind. He's not American. His English is good, but he has an accent.”

“What else?”

“Nothing else—other than you just happen to wear the same watch.”

He stares at me a moment and then faces forward, seconds ticking by before he stands. I twist around to follow his progress as he makes his way to the island, and then, oddly, presses his palms on the counter, seeming to contemplate the wall before him.

“Kayden? What are you doing?”

He seems to shake himself back to the moment. “Just thinking,” he says, removing his watch and sticking it in a drawer. He then returns to sit with me, an iPad in his hand, scooting his chair closer to me. “Let's look at the security footage.”

“Why did you take the watch off?”

“Because we're done with that man tonight.”

“What happened to facing things?”

“It's a watch,” he says. “I can replace it.”

“But—”

He leans down and kisses me, his lips lingering over mine. “One step at a time, sweetheart. The song tonight. The watch another. Okay?”

There is something stark in him, something suddenly shut off, like I've somehow put a wall between us he doesn't like. Or maybe that he has. “What just happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“It did, and I don't like it.” I curl my fingers on his jaw. “I need you to know.” Nerves flutter in my belly with the confession I'm about to dare, but think he might need to hear. “Kayden, I want to say that—”

His cell phone rings before I can say
I love you
, and my lashes lower in frustration. Kayden kisses me, and murmurs, “Me, too, sweetheart. Me, too.” And then he is standing, digging his phone from his pocket, and leaving me wondering if we . . . Did we . . . just say we love each other?

He sits back down, talking in fast, irritated Italian, and I use my nervous energy to stuff my face with Coco Pops. Kayden powers up the iPad while he talks, and finally ends the call. “That was Donati,” he says, officially leaving love confessions behind.

“What did he want?”

“To negotiate Gallo's extended vacation. I told him to go fuck himself after hearing his terms.”

“That's not good, is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“You killed it tonight, sweetheart. This is how Donati operates. We're a good three more phone calls away from him being reasonable.”

“Sasha says she doesn't like him.”

“Sasha doesn't like men who won't sleep with her.”

“She likes you.”

“If that's your way of asking if I've slept with her—”

“You haven't,” I say. “I know. She all but told me that, and if I wanted to know, I'd ask anyway.”

“Of course you would,” he says, approval in his eyes. “She likes me because I saved her from Niccolo's stepbrother.”

“She implied that as well,” I say.

“That woman can imply a lot in little time. However, she's good at choosing her words cautiously. She wants you to call her tomorrow. She seems to consider you her new friend.”

“Is that okay?” I ask. “Can I be friends with one of the Hunters?”

“As long as you keep in mind that less is more regarding what you and I share, there's no reason you can't.” He sets the iPad in front of us. “And there's every reason to want them to like and respect you.” He brings up the security feed. “Let me show you how to find the real-time views and past footage. I'll load it onto your phone in the next few days.” He tabs through screens. “Just remember that no one else can see this, or even knows it exists, including Marabella.” He freezes on an image of her in the kitchen, talking on her cell phone. “Time stamps three hours ago,” he says. “So we have confirmation that she brought the food in then.” He glances at me. “She's your light switch bandit.”

“I guess so,” I say, “but it seems so unlike her to forget anything. I mean, I don't know her all that well, but even I know that she's anal.”

He hits the “play” button and we watch her pace as she talks on the phone, her words too muffled to make out even if I could understand them. “She seems very upset,” I observe. “I don't want to be nosy, but is everything okay?”

“I can't make out what she's saying, but I'd bet that she's talking to Giada. She's a topic I don't have the energy to deal with tonight, but it's time she moves out.”

“I echo that sentiment,” I say, brow furrowing. “I just realized that you said I did well at the party, but you never mentioned how things went for you. I assume you got out without incident?”

“Everything was smooth.” He smirks. “Niccolo was so pissed about the champagne that got dumped on him, he was distracted during our departure.”

“Why was he even there?” I ask, taking another bite of my cereal.

“That's a good question I'm working on answering,” he says.

“Can I help you work on it?” I ask. “I'd really like to get more involved, Kayden. I can't hang out in the castle every day.”

“According to Adriel, you don't intend to.”

“He told you I want the store.”

“Of course he told me,” he confirms dryly. “He wants to go back to hunting, and he's all but packed Giada's bags.”

“I have some ideas on how to make that happen. But, most important, are you going to let Adriel hunt again?”

“Once we decide how to deal with Giada, yes. I am. He's ready.”

“What does that mean? He's ready?”

“Adriel was a renegade, trying to end up like Enzo for the six months after his father died. He fucked everything that moved and took every job he knew might get him killed. Giada going off the deep end gave me an excuse to ground his ass, so she's pissed me off, but she saved Adriel. For that, I've been patient, but I'm out of space to give her.” He holds up a hand. “But I really fucking do not want to talk about that woman tonight.”

“Can we go back to the store, then? Is it mine? I'm learning Italian, and I can use the store to get to know the neighborhood crowd. And I could hunt for things for the store, and who knows how I might be able to help you in the process.”

“You aren't hunting.”

“But—”

“No.”

“Kayden—”

He turns our chairs to face each other, his hands settling on my legs, surprising me when he doesn't repeat the word
no
but says, “Give me time.”

I am instantly softened, reminded that he has stepped into my circle of demons tonight, but his still exists. They're still breathing fire on him and me. “Yes,” I say. “The store only, right now.”

My understanding is rewarded with the warmth that fills his expression. “I brought you in here to show you something, remember?”

“I thought that was just your way of trying to find out if I would cook for you,” I tease, while I'm really starting to wonder if he's changed his mind about showing me at all.

“Since you opted for cereal, I'm assuming that's never going to happen.”

“Marabella would be offended.”

“We can't have that,” he jokes, lifting his jacket from the next chair and removing a white, rather worn, envelope from the pocket. The moment his hands touch it, I swear his energy shifts and darkens.