Demand (Careless Whispers #2)(43)

His eyes glint. “I wouldn’t,” he says firmly. “And if I hadn’t made that decision before now, I wouldn’t have given you that bracelet to wear. But even more, I wouldn’t have asked you to keep it and put it on again by choice, not necessity.”

No part of me questions that I belong with him, and my father’s advice about actions meaning more than words has never rung more true. I reach down and unhook the bracelet, catching it in my hand. “Now I’ll put it back on, by choice,” I say, my hand trembling with the swell of emotions I feel for this man, the clasp refusing the connection.

Kayden’s hand closes over the bracelet and my wrist. “Until you know everything—”

“My father said to look in a man’s eyes, and watch his actions, and you will know the true person. I have looked. I have watched. I know you. I know I want to stay with you.”

“You don’t know the things I’ve done. You can’t know my actions or my reactions.”

“I know all I need to know. Please, help me put it back on.”

He stares at me, those pale blue eyes glinting a deeper blue, the air between us thickening before he leans in and cups my head for a deep, passionate kiss that’s over too soon. When it is, he stares at me another few beats, searching my face for something I hope he finds. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper.

“You’re right. You’re not.” He reaches down and fastens the bracelet, and then does the most remarkable thing. He connects our palms, flattening The Hawk on his wrist against the one on mine, and in that moment there is understanding between us; there is commitment. There is a certainty that no matter what the future holds, no matter what the past reveals, we have decided we’re in it together.

“There are many reasons I want this night to be over, starting with all the things I want to say and do to you,” he says.

“There are many things I want to say and do to you, too.”

His lips curve. “Well, then why the hell are we sitting here?” He kisses my hand. “Let’s go get this over with.” He releases me, shifts into gear, and pulls a fast, tight U-turn toward the party. “Any last-minute doubts?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “I might not know all of my past, but I’m not Rapunzel in the tower. I want answers and freedom.”

“Just remember that maybe nothing will come from tonight,” he warns. “It could be another event or ten, for all we know.”

“Considering neither of us is good at waiting for things to happen, I really hope tonight is it.”

“If I could force it I would, but letting Niccolo come to us is the ticket to the outcome that we want—not what he wants.” He turns into the half-moon driveway, and I lean forward to look at the incredible stone building hugged by six round pillars that seem to go on for miles and miles, the roof steepled and framed by two lion sculptures.

“It’s almost castle-like,” I say, noting the railings and overlooks wrapping the top of the structure.

“Try one of the oldest privately held palaces in Italy,” he says, stopping behind the line of cars waiting to reach the doorman. “It’s preserved in as much of the elaborate glory the royals that once occupied it chose to bestow on it.”

“I’ve never been in a palace. But then, I’d never been in a castle before yours, either.” And the very fact that I know those words are true has me facing him. “See what I mean about my memory? When did I ever say things like that before today?”

“You definitely haven’t.”

“I feel really hopeful. If I can recover my memory before Niccolo figures out who I am, that could give us an extra advantage to negotiate with him. I mean, how will we even know if what he tells us is true?”

“I’d like you to remember on your own,” he says, pulling up a few feet and idling again, “and I’m happy you’re feeling encouraged. But don’t bury yourself in pressure, sweetheart. We have resources to confirm whatever Niccolo might claim, and we’ll take everything with ten grains of salt.”

“I want the control to be ours, not his.”

Several valets in uniforms with yellow and green tassels dangling from the sleeves open the doors of the black sedan in front of us, and Kayden pulls us next in line for the door.

“Sometimes other people’s control is the fa?ade that gives you the power,” Kayden explains. “And that’s the kind of magic you use on a man like Niccolo.”

I open my mouth when a woman exits the vehicle in front of us, her stunning full-length gown sparkling with white diamonds. “I feel underdressed, Kayden.”

“Overdone is not the kind of attention we want,” he comments, while another woman steps out of the same car, and to my relief she is dressed in a short, elegantly simple cream dress.

“Less is more,” Kayden reminds me, pulling us to the front door. “Remember that tonight.”

As one of the valets steps to my door Kayden holds up his hand, stopping the man to speak to me. “I’ll get your coat before you get out. It’s a long, cold red-carpet walk up stairs that rival the Spanish Steps.” He exits the Jag to walk to the back of the vehicle.

I wait for him, and I am not nervous, but rather eager to embrace this night. Action is what we both need and want. Hiding, always feeling afraid of what’s around the corner waiting to destroy me or those around me, wasn’t going to work for either of us much longer.