“I don’t even need to know.”
He cuts his stare and then fixes me back in his turbulence gaze. “If only it were that simple, but we’re together now. And we both know that’s not the foundation for a relationship.” His cellphone rings and a muscle in his jaw tics as he grabs it from his pocket. “Mark,” he tells me before he leans back on his haunches and answers. “Morning, sunshine,” he greets.
I smile at this greeting as Mark is so far from sunshine, it’s not even funny.
“Yes. Yes. Probably about eleven. Right.” He disconnects and slides his phone in his pocket. “He’s the biggest control freak you will ever know. No matter how many times I tell him the plan, he confirms the plan at least two more times.”
“He’s a control freak?” I challenge.
His lips quirk. “You think I’m a control freak?”
“I know you are.”
“Baby, what we do in bed and what we do out, are two different things. That’s about escape, trust, and pleasure. Outside of that, I’ll protect you. I’ll do that with no apologies, and most likely overbearing stubbornness, but outside of those things, no. I hope like hell that’s not how I’m coming off.”
“I’m only teasing you, and you can have control in bed,” I say, “most of the time.”
“Is that right?”
“It is,” I assure him.
“I’d test you on that if I didn’t have to go. One more thing.” He pauses. “Alexander.”
“He showed up,” I say quickly. “I didn’t call him. I wouldn’t play those kinds of games, Kace.”
“I know that, Aria. He’s a problem.”
“What happened between you two?”
“That,” he says, “is a story I will tell you, just not now. I have to go. But I will. Just know this. I would not warn you if I didn’t have a damn good reason.” He kisses my injured hand. “And be careful. Don’t overdo it today. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Text me or call me if you need anything at all. I will answer.” He starts to stand, and I catch his hand, smiling as I do.
“Before you walk out of the door.” I run my fingers through his hair, “your hair is wild right now.”
His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Good. Then everyone will know that you keep running your fingers through it.” He kisses my knuckles. “See you soon, baby.” He pushes to his feet, and without a look in the mirror, he exits the bathroom.
Now I’m alone again, but there is a difference between being alone and being alone. I am no longer alone. I’d consider that a positive except for one thing. I haven’t talked to Kace about the dangers of being a Stradivari. Or being close to one.
CHAPTER NINE
With the thought of danger comes the thought of Gio. I haven’t checked my phone in forever. Hopping to my feet, I speed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where I find my phone is lying on the nightstand. I snatch it up to discover it’s connected to the charger. I don’t remember doing that, which means Kace did it for me. Only, I don’t remember him doing it either. The blank spot bothers me but then, I remind myself, I was drugged. Of course, I don’t remember.
Dismissing the issue as nothing, I perch on the edge of the bed, check my call log, and discover a missed call from an unknown caller. I don’t get many unknown callers, except of course the one at Kace’s event, and I check my messages to find there is, in fact, a message. I hit the playback button but there’s nothing but static recorded. Brows furrowed, I’m bothered by the call which is probably nothing, much like me not remembering my phone on the charger.
I’d like to believe the caller was Gio, but Gio doesn’t accept defeat. He’d call back the minute he got my voicemail, well, unless of course, he couldn’t call back and he thought the message went through. Still, it feels “off” for lack of a better word. I check the time of the garbled message. It was at three in the morning. That’s not a client. That’s not a telemarketer. I change my mind—it had to have been Gio.
Or Sofia which is more disconcerting than a missed call from Gio. What, is she’s trying to tell me something is wrong with him? Or worse, that he’s dead?
Pushing to my feet, I start to pace, confused now, unsure what to think. I dial Gio and the call, once again, lands in voicemail. Is he in trouble? My gut says yes and that’s actually good news. If he’s in trouble, he’s not dead—not yet, at least. Sureness firms inside me. We’re bonded Gio and I. I would know if he was dead. That was him who tried to call me.