He leans in, his breath a warm tease of my lips, his hand on my face. “You’re going to live the life you deserve now, baby. I’m going to make sure of it.”
“Kace,” I whisper, my hand covering his. He blows me away every day. He really does. He saved me, he keeps saving me and yet he would tell me I’m saving him. The SUV halts and Kace kisses me before releasing me and following our progress. The gates to the castle open and we enter the grounds, following a half-circle driveway to stop in front of a staircase that leads to a giant door.
“Here we go, baby,” Kace says, squeezing my leg. “Our resting spot until we head to France and we’re one step closer to popping open the prison door.” As if for emphasis, he does just that. He pops opens the door and winks, and be still my heart when the man is in full Kace August charm mode. I’m a giddy schoolgirl with a new boyfriend. And it’s pretty wonderful to be an adult riding that kind of high.
Smiling, excited for our shared journey, I accept his hand and slide out of the vehicle, inhaling the scent of flowers, daisies blowing in the wind, I think. Of course, it’s November and the season is gone—it’s my imagination. Still, I inhale my imaginary flowers and snuggle into my coat as a delicious Italian wind whispers around us, just chilly enough to stir up memories of the holidays past, while offering hope for the holidays for the future. “I want to come back for daisy season next year.”
Kace tenderly strokes a wayward strand of hair from my face, his eyes meeting mine tenderness in their depths. “I can’t think of anything more perfect to celebrate our new life.”
A smile breaks easily to my lips while the purr of Kayden’s fancy sports car pulling down the drive and into a garage draws our attention. Kace shuts the SUV’s door as the front door to the castle opens. A short, robust Italian woman greets us.
“Welcome!” she says, all smiles and friendliness as she motions us forward.
“That’s Marabella,” Sasha says as she and Adrian join us on either side. “Be careful with that one,” she warns. “She likes to feed people and make them fat.”
I laugh. “So did my mother,” I say. “It’s an Italian thing.”
“Same with Mexican moms,” Adrian says. “I do miss those homemade tamales, but I’ll settle for some pasta. I think Marabella is about to be my second mom.”
The sound of a motorcycle flying down the drive draws everyone’s attention. “That would be Savage,” Adrian says. “He had to have a motorcycle for fast escapes, he claims. In other words, he wanted a toy to drive fast and wild.”
In other words, and more likely, I think, he wanted a toy we could run away on fast, but I don’t linger on that idea.
“Ever ridden on one?” Kace asks.
“Never,” I say. “And I’ve never wanted to either. I’m the one who would be pavement plaster.”
“Not with me driving. Believe me. You’ll change your mind once you get the wind under your chin.”
“You ride?”
“I might have a small collection of motorcycles in Germany.” His lips curve and he leans in and whispers, “And we can drive fast and wild.”
“You do that just fine without a motorcycle.”
He wiggles an eyebrow and then says, “Seriously. It’s a great way to explore the city. I’ll talk you into it.”
Exploring the city with Kace is an appealing idea that tempts, but caution beckons. “You think we can even do that? I mean, aren’t we under lock and key?”
“I’ll make it happen.”
And again, I believe him. He will. Everything good that’s happening is because Kace made it happen. For me. Because he loves me and every decision he’s making is ultimately selfless and for me. I will not forget that. I lace my fingers with his, push to my toes and kiss him before whispering, “I know you will. You’re my hero.”
He goes still, so very still, and while his expression does not change, there’s a spike of dark energy to him that I don’t understand. I’m about to ask, but Savage halts his roaring motorcycle just behind us and kills the engine. He yanks off his helmet. “Nothing like an engine buzzing between your thighs.”
I snort laughter and Sasha rolls her eyes. “He’s still so very Savage.” She heads up the stairs and motions us forward. “Let’s go get cozy, everyone.”
Kace catches my hand and folds it over his elbow, fitting my hip to his, as if he needs me extra close all of a sudden, and he doesn’t look at me. Something is off with him and I’m not sure what or why. I called him a hero. Why is that a problem? Sasha and Marabella disappear inside the doorway and for now, I set the question aside as we follow them. Adrian and Savage are behind us as we step into a stunning open foyer larger than three giant living rooms, stone beneath our feet, a towering ceiling above our heads. A massive winding stairwell with thick banisters is in the center. To our right and left sit eight-foot high arched wooden doors. Kayden and Ella appear from the right beneath the stairwell, both having discarded their jackets.
“We have three towers,” Kayden says as they join us, stepping directly in front of me and Kace. “Each door lifts with a code except the center tower that is simply up the stairs. That’s also where we own a collectibles store, much like the one I hear you have in New York, Aria. For us, it’s more of a place to meet clients outside the main castle than it is an active store, though you’d probably enjoy a look around.”
I’m intrigued. Kace is not. “Then the castle’s open to the public?” Kace asks, sounding concerned.
“Only that one door,” Kayden assures him, “which is why the door between the store and the castle stays shut. You’ll stay in our tower where I know you’re protected.” He hands us each a card with several numbers written on them. “Those are the codes you’ll need to navigate the castle. Memorize them. Destroy the card. Don’t share them.”
“No one stays in Kayden and Ella’s tower,” Sasha says. “You’re getting VIP treatment.”
Kace meets Kayden’s stare. “We can stay elsewhere.”
“Not necessary,” Ella chimes in. “I want Aria close. I know what it’s like to live a life that is not really your own, which is a story I can share later. For now,” her eyes meet mine, “just know that I think I can help.”
“I’d like that,” I say, “very much, but what about Kace’s need to practice? Will he disturb you?”
Kace laughs one of his deep masculine laughs, all hints of his stormy turn of moments before evaporating with it. “Slave driver, are you?”
“Yes,” I say primly. “You have a show coming up. You aren’t losing your skills because my brother decided to invite the world to chase us.”
“Some would say I can’t lose them,” he challenges.
“And my father would say, ‘Cazzatte.’”
He laughs again. “Your father was a smart man.”