Home > A Wicked Song(4)

A Wicked Song(4)
Author: Lisa Renee Jones

 “He’s a player,” Alexander snaps. “Don’t let him suck you in.”

 “You and me, baby,” Kace says softly, his voice like lights dancing on a night ocean, the only thing that stops a spiral into darkness. “Don’t just throw us away.”

 Us.

 That’s the word that gets me.

 Us.

 Don’t just throw us away. I can’t just throw us away. It’s dangerous, I know, but I have to hear what he has to say. I need to hear what he has to say.

 I turn to Alexander. “Thank you for helping me. I need to stay with Kace right now. I’ll call you tomorrow. I do believe I owe you.”

 He cuts his gaze to Kace and then back to me. “Are you sure?”

 “I am,” I say. “But truly, thank you.”

 He hesitates, and then says, “I don’t like leaving you.”

 “And you have been a gentleman, but I’m fine. I promise.”

 He makes a low growling sound and curses under his breath. “You have my number. Call me if you need me. Don’t hesitate, no matter the time.”

 I nod. “Again, thank you.”

 His lips thin and instead of just leaving, he rotates to Kace. “I better not find out you did this.”

 Calm, cool Kace August isn’t as calm and cool at all. He steps toward Alexander, and I rotate, placing myself in between them, dropping my medication bag, my one good hand flattening on Kace’s chest. “No. Please. I’m begging you.”

 His jaw tics and I twist around to face Alexander. “Go. Now. Before this becomes something we all regret.”

 He scowls and glares at Kace.

 “Alexander!” I snap.

 “I’m going,” he replies, holding up his hands. “I’m going.” He turns on his heel and marches toward the door.

 Kace grips my shoulders and he leans in, his lips brushing my neck. “Let’s get you home.”

 Home.

 That word guts me. I don’t have a home right now. Nothing about anything in my life feels like home right now except Kace, and he’s betrayed me. He scoops up my medication bag and wraps his arm around me, setting us in motion, his big body a shelter I would have cocooned inside just hours earlier. Now it frightens me how good he feels, how right he feels, how readily I want to trust him, and forget those photos.

 The double glass doors open and we exit into a cold, harsh wind, but the cold is nothing to me right now. Not when I can feel myself suffocating in his perfection, and what feels like our bond. A bond that might not even be real.

 Stepping onto the sidewalk, he motions left and we start walking. I shiver and Kace halts us, shrugging out of his jacket and wrapping it around me, the perfect gentleman that was stalking me before we met. He grips the lapels. “Better?”

 “No. Nothing is better,” I assure him. “I made Alexander go away, but I’m not going with you, Kace.”

 A man and a woman walk past us, and I try to twist away from him. I try and fail. The jacket is now my prison, leverage he uses to hold me in place, as he murmurs, “Don’t do this.”

 “You did this,” I bite out.

 Before I know Kace’s intent, he’s backing me up. “What are you doing?”

 By the time I finish the question, we’re inside an alcove out of the wind, under a dim light, beside a doorway of some sort. “Trying not to end up in a tabloid tomorrow,” he says. “They were following me today. Let’s go to one of our apartments where it’s warm and private.”

 “I don’t care about the cold. I don’t care if you freeze. I don’t care if I freeze.” I shrug out of the jacket and let it fall to the ground.

 Kace grabs the jacket and pulls it back around me. “I care,” he says. “I care if you’re cold. I care about everything to do with you, Aria.” His voice is soft velvet and a rough growl all at once.

 Emotion wells in my chest. “I know, Kace. I keep telling you that I know. I know you know who I am. I found the file you have of me and my family. I saw the photos of Gio.”

 He doesn’t even consider denial. His answer is quick, sure. “Aria Stradivari,” he says. “Yes. I know who you are.”

 “You want the formula to make the violins.”

 “I want you.”

 “You knew who I was.”

 “Yes, but not for the reason you think. We met years ago, Aria. I recognized you when you showed up at the table to talk to Mark. I thought you remembered that meeting, but I soon found out that you didn’t.”

 “We met? What are you talking about?”

 “We were kids. You were eleven, by my present calculations, and I was seventeen. Meeting your father and touring your family factory was one of the biggest thrills of my young life.”

 My mind ticks back in time and yes, yes there is a vague memory of a good-looking boy who played the violin. “Why wouldn’t you tell me sooner?”

 “Two reasons. I knew your family had disappeared. I knew if you were alive there was a reason you were hiding and using another name. And we were young when we met. I wanted to be sure I was even correct. I had Walker do some digging.”

 My heart surges. “Digging is not good, Kace.” My eyes go wide and I halt any reply. “No, wait. You had photos of Gio. Gio was gone when I met you.”

 “They’re from your building’s security footage. They’re time and date stamped. I can prove it.”

 “Why hack my security system?”

 “Gio was older when we met. I knew if I saw pictures of him, I’d confirm it really was both of you.”

 “In other words, you already knew he lived with me.”

 “Aria—”

 “You let me believe everything I told you was fresh and new.”

 “It was. It was you telling me.” His hands settle possessively at my waist. “Baby, I didn’t want to scare you off. I damn sure didn’t want you to run or disappear on me.”

 “You want the formula,” I accuse.

 “I want you,” he repeats.

 “I don’t have the formula.”

 “I don’t care about the damn formula, Aria.” Exasperation touches his voice.

 “How do I know that?”

 A low, frustrated sound escapes his lips and he drops the medication bag, and spikes fingers into my hair, a low curse escaping his lips. His eyes meet mine, and the depth of the emotion he then spikes in me steals my breath. Before I can catch it again, he’s breathing for me. His mouth slants over my mouth, his tongue licking a wicked, seductive note against my tongue. And despite my injured hand and my burdened heart, I melt the way I always melt for this man. I melt and I moan, and when he tears his mouth from mine, I am panting.

 “That is how you know,” he declares. “We are connected, you and me. We both feel it.”

 “All that says is that I want you and that I have the potential to be foolish because of that desire, but I won’t live up to that potential, Kace.”

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