Denial (Careless Whispers #1)(80)

He throws off the blankets and stands, and I raise up on my elbows to watch every moment of that gorgeous, tight ass of his as it leaves the room. I sigh, hating the end of two days of bliss, and the reality that means I have to think about the implications of knowing Niccolo that I’ve managed to suppress. The truth is, I’ve barely thought about the ruthless mobster during our little interlude, nor have I had a flashback, a true testament to just how all-consuming Kayden can be. Or . . . maybe it’s my mind going into overdrive to block out what I know I’m close to revealing. I don’t like that idea one little bit.

The shower echoes from the other room and I down a pain pill with the water I have by the bed. I consider joining Kayden, but decide I’ll only delay his calls. Decision made to give him space, I grab my journal from the bedside, determined to force my memories to ignite again. I start scribbling the butterfly again and make a concerted effort to actually create a drawing of the necklace. I shut my eyes and force my mind back to that hotel room, to the moment after I’d torn the pendant from my neck, and when I’d gone to my knees and picked it up. In my mind’s eye, I can see that note hanging from the edge of the center stone, as if hidden there, but the handwriting is not in English. I open my eyes with this realization. Considering my preference for English, this seems to indicate that the piece of paper wasn’t a love note. Rather than drawing the butterfly, I start writing down details:

—Sapphire stones cover raised wings

—The center is a ruby that is quite large. That’s where the note was

—White gold setting

—Large. About two inches wide

Grimacing, I tap the pencil on the paper. Does this even matter? The note must be what matters and I’ll never figure it out. I set the journal aside and lie down, shutting my eyes and trying to picture that piece of paper, hoping I can make out something that makes a little sense. Instead, I’m transported back to a familiar house. My house when I was a teenager. I inhale, and the scent of chocolate chip cookies is so real I can almost taste them.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask, entering the small, square kitchen to find my mother in an apron, scooping the just-out-of-the-oven cookies off the hot tray and onto a plate.

“You know how your father loves sweets.” She glances at her watch. “He should be back from the shooting range in the next fifteen minutes.” Her hands plant on her slender hips, her red hair falling in waves around her face. “I noticed you dodged going along with him.”

“Dance rehearsal.” I sink into a chair at the simple round wooden table. “And you know how intense he is right after he returns from a mission.”

She sits down with me and brings the plate of cookies. “His life is in danger constantly. He sees horrible things. It’s hard to come down from that.”

“What horrible things, Mom?”

“You know this unit he’s in is top secret and elite. He can’t tell us what he does or where, but he has nightmares, honey. I think he pushes you because he’s always afraid he won’t come back and there will be no one to take care of you. He wants to be sure you can take care of yourself.”

“And you. He always tells me to take care of you.”

She smiles. “Good man.” She hands me a cookie. “Good cookie.”

“Ella.”

I blink to find Kayden leaning over me, the light blue shirt he’s wearing turning the gorgeous in his eyes up a notch. “I love your eyes.”

He smiles, and it’s really a wonderful smile. “Thank you, sweetheart. Why were you lying here smiling?”

I take a deep breath and let it out. “Chocolate chip cookies.”

He laughs. “What?”

“A memory of my mother baking cookies. Do you think Marabella could make some?”

“She’d be beside herself to get a special request from you.” He pulls me to a sitting position. “Go get ready. We have to leave in forty-five minutes.”

“Danger, Will Robinson! We must face our world of danger.”

He arches a brow. “Isn’t that from a movie?”

“Lost in Space, and don’t ask me how I know that. It was way before my time.” I frown. “Or maybe there was a remake?”

He clunks my chin. “Get dressed, silly woman, and I’m going to leave the room before you do or I might not let you. I’ll make coffee. Hurry before I drink it all.”

“And you will,” I tease, having witnessed him down about two pots yesterday.

“That’s right, so like I said, hurry the hell up.” He heads for the door and I sit up to watch the way he owns his walk and everything around him, deciding he makes jeans and boots look like sex, when my hand hits the journal, and my memory jolts.

“Kayden.” He stops at the door and turns to me. “I remembered something while you were in the shower,” I say. “The note in the necklace wasn’t written in English. I couldn’t read it.”

His chest expands and he gives me a barely there nod, facing the door again, but he hesitates with his back to me, as if he wants to say something more. I wait, adrenaline rushing through me, and I’m not sure why, but he doesn’t speak. He just . . . leaves.



I dress in black slacks, boots, and an emerald-green sweater, and take extra time with my makeup and hair, because a girl wants to look good if she’s going to be assassinated by a mobster at the consulate’s office. The burn of that fear is only slightly cooled by my ending up in a sexy ice-blue F-TYPE two-seater Jaguar and discovering that the wall of the garage moves to allow our exit. A sexy car and a sexy man is as sweet as it gets, but there is nothing sexy about my worry that Kayden shouldn’t be seen with me at the consulate. The problem disappears when I discover we’re meeting the consulate agent at a coffee shop, which means neither I nor Kayden will be spotted by Niccolo. Even better, the meeting is a good distance away in the Piazza di Spagna region of the city, which turns out to be an absolutely delightful area where cobblestone streets are lined with shops, food, and history, like the Spanish Steps I can’t wait to explore. Surprisingly the meeting is short and easy, and Kayden explains the paperwork to me while I nibble a pastry. Once we’re done, Kayden hands the agent a thick envelope that the man inspects before grinning ear to ear.