Demand (Careless Whispers #2)(46)

“Where is the food? Because I’m starving.”

He bends our elbows and places our connected hands together, my bracelet on full display, and then indicates the far corner. “The goal line is directly in front of us and to the right. That is where we find pasta and chocolate, and mock the crowd with full stomachs. Between us and it, though, are people who want to keep us from that reward.”

I laugh. “So what’s the plan?”

He gives me a serious, focused look. “An all-out American football attack. Straight up the middle. Got it?”

“Got it,” I say, playing along, the nerves I didn’t realize had attacked settling down to a tolerable level.

We start walking, and before we’ve gone three feet, we’re tackled from the left. Then the right. Before I know what has hit me, I’m being introduced to people, struggling to understand questions and remember accented names.

Except one.

Suddenly, Kayden and I are standing in front of the politician in the photo Gallo showed me this morning.

“Eleana,” Kayden says, his hand settling at my lower back. “This is Lino Conti. One of the only honest men in Parliament, which unfortunately earns him more enemies than friends.”

On that unexpected tidbit of information, Lino, who happens to be a bit of a silver fox, offers me his hand, which I accept. “Nice to meet you, Eleana,” he says, but rather than letting go of me, he and Kayden lean over me, sharing a quiet, brief exchange before Lino releases me and they separate.

“You have a good man here,” Lino says, offering nothing more before he disappears into the crowd.

I give Kayden a questioning look that he answers by pressing his cheek to mine and whispering, “There are two sides to every story.”

He leads me toward the food tables, which are finally in view, but his statement has me searching every passing face, looking for answers. My worst fear and hope is that one of them knows the other side of my story. Just the idea has me holding on to Kayden’s hand a little tighter.





twelve




Finally, Kayden and I clear the crowd, the table of food standing in an alcove under a giant white stone stairway, filled with all kinds of goodies. I go for the spill-proof options of bread and cheese. Kayden fills his plate with a variety of items he then tries to feed me. “Try this,” he says, picking up a ravioli.

I let him feed me the bite, and the creamy, cheesy center has me moaning in delight.

“That’s not the way to keep my mind on business,” Kayden warns, his lips curving.

“And pasta and cheese is not the way to keep me from outgrowing the clothes you bought me,” I counter, dabbing my mouth with a napkin.

“I promise to help you work it off,” he says, offering me another bite.

“No,” I say firmly. “No more.” A waiter passes and I hand him Kayden’s plate.

Kayden arches a brow. “You know I wasn’t done, right?

I laugh. “Oops. I’ll get you another.”

He shackles my waist, holding me in front of him, his mood suddenly darker. “Why haven’t you asked me about Lino?”

“Because just like I think we both needed to know I could call you just to call today, I think you need to know that I trust you enough not to need details.”

“Niccolo had his wife killed, and made it look like Lino did it.”

My eyes go wide. “Why? Or does he even have a reason?”

“Payback for him refusing a political favor.”

I start putting the pieces together. “Lino tried to hire you to fix this for him.”

“More like to exact revenge. He wants to destroy Niccolo.”

“Did you tell him to join the club?”

“I told him, when his trigger finger cools off, to call me.”

“And has it?” I ask.

“He says it has.”

“But you’re not sure,” I conclude.

“I’m not, no, but we have a mutual enemy. Where that leads us, I have yet to decide.”

“Gallo’s placed you together. That means Niccolo can, too.”

“I knew Gallo was snooping around, which forced me to call Niccolo after that meeting.”

“What impact did that have?”

“Aside from amusing Niccolo, not much. But then, I didn’t tell him everything, either.”

“But you told me.”

“Yes. I told you.”

“Thank you,” I say, a moment before a male voice says, “Kayden,” from behind me.

I turn to discover a fifty-something-year-old man several inches shorter and stockier than Kayden, his gray hair a shade lighter than his eyes, which fall on me as he says, “And you must be Eleana.”

“Meet Chief Donati,” Kayden says, reaching for my hand and kissing it, the act exposing the bracelet. “He also happens to be Detective Gallo’s boss.” He eyes the chief. “Who threatened and manipulated Eleana today in an effort to turn her against me.”

Donati eyes my bracelet and then me, surmising. “Obviously he failed.”

“Miserably,” I say. “But he did teach me that a bar means coffee in the morning, not wine.”

“Wine is acceptable at all times in Italy,” Donati corrects, his English heavily accented but nearly perfect. “However, coffee is a good remedy or preparation for the evening’s wine, depending on how you choose to look at it.”