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It’s moments like these that make me wonder how my mother kept us off the radar all those years. Of course, Gio wasn’t flying off to Italy back then either. “And what about Nancy?” I ask. “She’s going to know something is up if I don’t take her calls.”
“Blake’s going to give us a more detailed update on what he found out about her later today. Then we’ll talk through how to handle her.”
Savage leans over the seat. “Bloodwork looks good. The moral of the story is—well, I don’t have a moral to the story, but Adrian probably has a bad joke about it. Wait for it. You’ll see.” With that,
he disappears again.
I digest his words with a momentarily blip of relief and then I’m back to the topic of Gio and how to reach him. “How do I check my messages?”
“Adrian’s going to help us get everything set-up once we’re at the castle.”
The plane halts and Kace stands up. “We’re here, baby. Home sweet Italy.”
I smile with those words, and I feel that smile all the way to my soul. “Home sweet Italy.” I stand and we make our way to the exit, and any hesitation I might have had about stepping foot back in Italy has faded during this flight. I’m ready to own our plan, to move forward, to celebrate a new year in a whole new light.
Kace and I exit the plane behind Adrian and in front of Savage, who is big, broad, and lethal, all the jokes aside right now. I realize now how they change in duty, not so much in personality but in energy. Right now, they really are Terminators protecting us. It doesn’t feel like they expect danger, but rather, they’re ready for it should it surprise us. I decide that’s actually pretty liberating. No one gets to us without going through them and they’ve already proven they will win a confrontation. Hand in hand with Kace, I draw my first breath of Italian air since I was eleven and it’s perfection, filling me with memories of pasta, holidays, and daises in the wind. The weather is milder than I expected, my coat too heavy, but then I am warm from the inside out. We walk down the short flight of stairs to find a stunning pair, a man and woman, waiting on us, both in all black, including their boots and jackets. It’s Kayden and Ella, I just know. She’s red-headed, petite, beautiful. He’s tall, with longish light brown hair, a square jaw, and a dimple in his chin.
Adrian is the first to greet them, shaking Kayden’s hand and laughing with him and Ella just before Kace and I join them.
“Aria,” Ella greets, her green eyes landing on me, her red silky hair blowing in the wind. “I’m Ella.” She steps into me and hugs me. “Sara told me so much about you.” She inches back to look at me. “I know what it’s like to hide. I know what it’s like to stop hiding. We’re going to help you do that safely.”
I believe her. I believe her. There is just something about her, just as there is about Sara. “Thank you,” I say. “So very much.”
“No thanks needed.”
She smiles and eases back to her spot next to Kayden, while Kayden and Kace are shaking hands, and my gaze catches on a glimpse of ink on his arm, gone before I can make it out. “Piacere di conoscerti, Aria,” he says, turning his attention on me. His eyes are a striking pale blue, not quite as intense as Kace’s, but pretty intense.
As for his greeting, it means “nice to meet you” in Italian, and my eyes pinch a little as I answer with “Piacere di conoscerti, Kayden,” speaking my native language freely, comfortably for the first time in my adult life and doing so here in Italy.
“Did you speak English when you went to the States?” he asks, an easy confidence and air of control about him that does nothing to diminish his friendliness.
“I did,” I confirm. “My parents felt it was important for me to know English.”
“Kayden and I have both lived in the States,” Ella says, “so we appreciate the differences in good and bad ways between the States and Italy.”
“Kayden,” Savage greets, stepping into our little circle to shake Kayden’s hand. “How the fuck are you?” he asks, but before Kayden can answer, Savage eyes Ella and holds ups his hands. “Don’t kick my ass. I’ll be good on this trip.”
Ella laughs a sweet, friendly laugh. “You’re never good, Savage.”
Kace slides his arm around me and Kayden’s attention is back on us. “We have a lot to talk about,” he says. “Let’s get to the castle and you two can wash up and rest, and we’ll have some real Italian food and talk.” He motions to a black SUV, which is apparently the universal vehicle for bodyguards. “Your driver is Sasha,” he adds, “who will kick anyone’s ass in her way, including mine. We’ll follow you to the castle.”
My gaze lifts to a silver sports car just beyond the SUV that’s obviously their ride. The Underground is clearly treating Kayden right. Sometimes money and power breeds a need for more money and power, but I have no sense that Kayden and Ella are those people. My gut, and friends I trust, say to trust them.
Kace and I head toward the SUV and Sasha, a pretty brunette who oozes attitude and sex. “I’m Sasha,” she says, looking between us, “and I get it. Aria’s royalty in these parts and you, Kace August, are famous. Which is why I’m your personal ass-kicker.”
Adrian joins us. “I can handle the ass-kicking.”
Sasha snorts. “Men. They always think they kick ass. Right until they get their asses kicked. Notice Savage isn’t riding with us. Because he learned the hard way.” She motions to Adrian and the vehicle. “You can get the door.” She heads around the hood and calls out, “Let’s go, my little pretties.”
Adrian’s smiling when he opens the door. “Love me some attitude. This won’t be a boring few weeks, that’s for damn sure.”
Laughing, I head to the vehicle, but just before I climb inside Kace catches my elbow. I turn to him and he steps behind the door, sheltering me between it and him. “How do you feel so far?” he asks, his voice a low masculine hum of concern.
“Good. I feel good about them and this. Like I’m where I’m supposed to be. Like we’re where we’re supposed to be. Whatever happens here is what was meant to happen. I know that sounds silly, but I feel it clear to my soul.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kayden and Ella’s castle is in the middle of the Trastevere neighborhood, which I know because I’ve done more than a little obsessing over Italy over the years. This area is old Rome charm with narrow brick roads that double as sidewalks. That’s one thing I remember about Italy: you can sit at an outdoor restaurant table and a car could drive by so close you can touch it. To say that the Italians like to keep things cozy is an understatement.
We travel those streets now, in between plastered buildings, little shops, and restaurants everywhere, and I am bubbling with excitement. And it’s not just about being in Italy. It’s about the freedom to be somewhere other than a corner of New York City.
I’m trying to figure out where a castle could possibly be hidden when we turn a corner into a square with a gated stone castle as the centerpiece. “And there it is,” Kace murmurs. “A little piece of history. The history is one of the things I love about this country.” He kisses my hand. “And you’re a part of that history, baby.”
“My father was,” I say, feeling pride in how hard he worked to maintain the Stradivari name and quality.
“You are making him proud, baby. I believe that. The more I think about it, the more I know that hiding and letting the name die was not what he would have wanted.”
“You’re right,” I say. “You’re so right. I believe in what we’re doing. And I believe that’s why being here, right now, feels exciting.”
Sasha must hit a button somewhere because the gates to the castle begin to open and I find myself smiling up at Kace. “I’ve never been in a castle.”
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 pret
ty 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.”
