Demand (Careless Whispers #2)(71)

More and more the neighborhood has become like hands to me, with side streets that are many fingers. We cut down one of them now, cafés and outdoor seating lining our path.

“I can’t believe there are people eating outside in this weather,” I say, eyeing the busy tables.

“You should see it during the warmer months,” he says. “Italians like their outdoor dining, and for the most part that’s because there’s no air-conditioning.” He pulls me a little closer. “How’s your wrist feeling?”

“Just a dull throb,” I say. “It turned out beautifully, so I’m excited about it. How’s your back?”

“Nothing some wine won’t cure.” He stops us at the door to a place that looks rather busy. “This is one of the more modern restaurants in Trastevere. Very American in its size and atmosphere. Very Italian when it comes to the food.”

We enter the main dining area with pale wood floors, and modern-looking steel-and-glass steps up the center, and a hostess seats us in a corner booth in the back. Fifteen minutes later we are drinking wine, eating bread, and, at my urging, Kayden has ordered his recommendations for us.

We laugh and talk, the way we have all day, in spite of Neuville, Niccolo, and even Donati. Once our plates are gone, Kayden laces his hand with mine, leaning in close and turning somber. “Do you know how few people could go from where you were on that bathroom floor last night to where you are right now? You are brave.”

That memory of my father calling me brave comes back to me and guts me just a little. “Which means I’m scared, but I do it anyway. I am scared, Kayden. I didn’t want to talk about this tonight, but Garner . . .” I cringe. “I just called him by his first name, as if I actually had a relationship with that man.”

“You did, sweetheart, and he might be a dark spot on your life, but it’s the way we deal with those dark spots that makes us who we are. And they made you special.”

“I’m not special, but they brought me to you, and I’d live them again to be here now.” I sit back and drink some wine. “I didn’t want to bring this up tonight, but he’s coming for me and the necklace—and that means you.”

“He hasn’t come for you because he doesn’t know where you are.”

“He’ll find me.”

“But we’ve found him first, Ella. That’s what matters. We’ve found him, and we will hurt him in ways he’s never imagined.”

“Translate that.”

“Evil Eye will be evoked. You are mine and they are yours. The attacks will come hard, fast, and vicious. His people will doubt him. His world will crumble.”

“When?”

“I have key members flying in for a meeting in a week for the vote.”

“So it’s not guaranteed that they’ll take him down.”

“The meeting is more about planning than approval. I lead Evil Eye—and if I can confirm that Niccolo is dying, that makes the dynamics of this interesting,” he says. “A shift of power from both mafia leaders has to be handled with care, but if done right, it could weaken both organizations.”

I study him closely. “Why haven’t you sent them after Niccolo, Kayden?”

“I set this organization up based on order and honor. Not an easy thing to do, when not every Hawk is about honor. There are rules and a burden of proof. If I step around that, then everyone will expect to do the same, and that can lead to dangerous places.”

“What proof do you have of what happened to me?”

“Niccolo is providing me proof.”

“Which is what?”

“Do you really want to hear this?”

“Yes. It’s my life. I don’t want to be sheltered, and I’m not going to have a meltdown here.”

“The woman at the club helped you reach out to Niccolo, and she owes him a favor. She says she took a picture of you after the beating and I have to use it, Ella.”

I have a fleeting memory of her stroking my hair the night I’d bitten that bastard’s tongue. Anger overrides shame, and I drink the rest of my wine. “Have you seen the photo?”

“Not yet.”

“Won’t it make me look weak to The Underground?”

“You survived and escaped a mafia king. You do not look weak.”

“I’m not weak,” I repeat, maybe trying to convince myself, which really sucks. “I don’t want to see the photo.” I down his wine, too. “Do they have tequila? I have some noise in my head right now I’d like to mute, and since we can’t have sex, it seems like a good option.”

He lifts his hand and a waiter appears, and after a short conversation, Kayden stands up. “Come on.”

“We’re leaving?” I ask, letting him pull me to my feet.

“I want to show you a taste of Italian nightlife next door. They’ll hold our coats here.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling slightly dizzy. “But I’d better skip that tequila. Apparently the wine did the job.” He wraps my waist to steady me and leads me to the back of the restaurant and down a hallway. We reach a door he opens and suddenly there is loud Italian pop music, dim lights, and a narrow stairway.

Kayden puts me in front of him, his hands on my hips, and we walk up the stairs. I’m greeted at the top level by a blue-hued darkness and a dance floor filled with people. Scanning, I find an oval bar to the left, and some sort of sky bridge up above. Kayden steps to my side and drapes his arm around my shoulder, leading me to the bar, where he orders drinks.