Demand (Careless Whispers #2)(50)

I nod, and as we reenter the party, I decide that death really is too good for Niccolo. Destruction. Disgrace. Jail. Those things sound good. “Head down,” Sasha warns as we pass the piano, then laughs as if I’ve said something funny. I laugh, too, and, needing a place to put my nerves, I say, “Pasta, pasta, coffee.”

She snickers and says, “Coffee, coffee, and pasta. We’re going up the center stairs and he’s to the left by the food displays.”

“Got it. How is he even here when he’s a criminal, and Donati is here?”

“We’re with politicians,” she says. “They’re all criminals.”

“Right,” I say, and we both fake laugh as some man stops in front of us, gazing down at her cleavage while she waves him off, and drags me around him. “Bastard,” she mutters. “Here we go. Niccolo on our left. Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. Assholes everywhere. Coffee. Your turn.”

“Pasta. Pasta. Pasta. Assholes everywhere and I swear my skin is tingling like he’s looking.”

“We’re gorgeous. Of course he’s looking. And one of us is Kayden’s woman. Someone will have told him, but there’s about to be a planned distraction. Don’t react.” We reach the steps and start our climb, and the sound of glasses crashing to the ground fills the air.

“That was a tray of champagne being dropped right next to Niccolo,” she tells me. “Kayden promised the waiter extra if Niccolo got wet.” The sound of an angry, familiar male voice rips through the air.

“And I’m betting the waiter is getting that tip,” Sasha quips.

Niccolo’s voice lifts in the air again, and his voice, his anger, is familiar, but not quite right for some reason. A niggling memory begins to come back to me. Images flicker and then take control. I am in “his” bedroom, and I’m holding the gun, pacing, certain of what I have to do. Decision made, I walk to the bathroom and grab my purse, then open a drawer and grab the cosmetic bag where I’ve stashed the cash I’ve been collecting for weeks. I head for the door and open it, exiting to the hallway, when I hear two male voices raised in anger, his and another coming from the office down the hall. The office door opens and I hurry back into the bedroom, peering through a crack as they approach and then stop on the stairs in front of me.

“Ella,” Sasha says, jolting me back to the present. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Sorry. I’m fine.” I realize that I blacked out again, and we’re now at the top of the steps.

“This way,” she says, dragging me to the right, behind a wall, but I can still hear Niccolo’s voice, and I know—I just know—that if I see him, I’ll remember everything I have lost and need to find.

I jerk free of Sasha’s hold, turning back toward the party and stepping just to the edge of the wall, my gut clenching as I find Niccolo in profile. “Ella,” Sasha hisses, closing her hand down on my arm again.

“One minute,” I whisper, planting my feet and holding on to her. “Just one minute. I have to see his face.”

And in that moment, as if he senses my presence, he turns and looks toward us. Sasha and I both jolt backward and start moving down the hallway, but I saw his face. “You’re a crazy person,” Sasha chides. “Crazy, insane, and did I say crazy?”

“Amnesia sucks,” I say. “I had to try and jolt my memory.”

“Did it work?”

“No. It didn’t work.”

“Some things are easier forgotten anyway,” she declares, echoing Kayden’s sentiments and turning us around a corner into a narrow hallway. “Here,” she says, opening a door, and we step inside a dark room that I think is a library.

“What are we doing?” I ask as she locks us inside.

“Undress,” she orders, reaching for her zipper. “We’re switching clothes so the staff thinks you’re leaving with Kayden.”

I don’t argue, wasting no time complying, and in about sixty seconds, I’m stepping into her silver gown while she does the same with mine. “Gorgeous,” she says, running her hands over the velvet. “I might forget to return this.” She eyes my feet. “What size?”

“Seven.”

“Perfect,” she approves, and we quickly make the exchange, trading purses as we head to the door, where she pauses and grabs my arms. “Ella. I hate this, but I have to have that bracelet. People have noticed, and they’ll know it’s not you—”

“Right,” I say, feeling sick to the stomach. “Of course.” But I can’t seem to make myself reach for it, and I’m not sure why.

Understanding fills her face, and she takes my arm and turns my wrist over, unlatching it. “I promise you,” she says, as it slides off my arm, “I’ll get it right back to you, by way of your man.” She closes her hand around it. “The stairs are directly in front of this door. Go down them and exit the palace. Adriel will be waiting at the curb.”

“How are you going to get down the stairs without Niccolo seeing you?”

“Kayden has a plan, but timing is everything, which means I need to move, and move now.” She opens the door and we exit to the hallway, where she shocks me by giving me a quick hug. “We’ll make him pay,” she vows, releasing me. “Go now.”