Marabella
Adriel
These people are my people, so now they’re yours.
—Kayden
My chest tightens on that last phrase, which implies I’m staying in his life. Considering I’m running for my life, which makes a person think about her end of days, he’s given me all the encouragement I need. I open the box and remove the phone, quickly finding Kayden’s number and punching the “call” button. He answers on the second ring.
“Ella?”
His voice does funny things to my stomach. “Hi,” I say, sounding a bit breathless.
“Is something wrong?”
I feel like we’re replaying the conversation from outside his bedroom last night. “No. I just . . . When are you coming back?”
“Why?”
“Because . . . the David thing. He didn’t mean anything to me. I don’t know why I was with him, but I think . . . I was lost, and I feel found with you. I know that’s crazy, because we just met—but you said ‘everything or nothing,’ and we are not nothing. But we can’t get to everything if you shut me out.”
Silence crackles on the line. I wait. And wait. And I’m going crazy when he finally says, “There are things about me you don’t know.”
“You said that already, and there are things about me we both don’t know. What I do know, though, is that I need you, and I’m not alone in this feeling. I know I’m not.”
“Ella—”
“Please don’t shut me out.”
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
I do not miss the way he phrases this sentence to avoid the word home, when he’s lived here since he was ten. “Okay,” I whisper, feeling defeated.
His voice softens. “We’ll talk when I get there.”
“Okay,” I say again.
“Ella. Sweetheart.”
“Just come back.” I end the call before he can say something else I don’t want to hear.
Everything or nothing. I don’t think I can do in between. I need to get my memory back. That’s all there is to it. I reach for the journal and my hand shakes, partly from hunger, and partly from the emotional toll that is Kayden Wilkens. I pull my sandwich forward and start eating, opening the folder and studying the new me who has replaced the old me. An hour later, I’ve eaten every bite of my wonderful sandwich, Kayden hasn’t returned, and I’ve spent way too much time drawing butterflies. And I’ve read my file at least ten times and just can’t do it again. I place my plate in the sink and leave the folder, box, and journal on the table, and decide to do as promised and try to make friends with Giada.
I stick the phone in my back pocket and make my way to the stairwell, eager to see this store filled with collectibles. A little history that’s not my own will be welcome right about now. I take the winding staircase to the main foyer, peeking into the room to the left, thrilled to discover a giant library with overstuffed chairs, a desk, a fireplace, and walls and walls of books. This will be my next stop.
I punch the button to open the dungeon door to the main room, reminding myself there is a code to reenter that I thankfully remember. Once I’m in the main foyer, I glance up at the ceilings, the trim wrapped in roses, and again, there is a stirring of something familiar that I can’t qu
ite remember. I let it go and face the fact that I’m stalling, not exactly eager to face Adriel, admitting to myself that I am afraid he will stir some memory I don’t want to exist.
Frustrated at the idea, I hurry up the center stairs, a red-and-cream-colored rug beneath my feet and thick, shiny wooden railings at my sides, greeting the next level by another tower dungeon door. I glance left and right to find a stairwell on either side. Had Kayden said the store was street level? That’s the logical place, so I decide the door is the right choice. Noting a button to the left, I press it. The heavy wooden surface lifts rather quickly and I enter what resembles the corner of a museum, complete with two huge white pillars on either side of the room, shelves filled with books on the walls, and glass cases here and there. It’s an intriguing place that begs to be explored.
I walk forward, noting rooms to the left and right framed by beautiful arches, etched in more roses, and I don’t know why roses stand out to me, even call to me, but never fully evolve into a memory. Shaking off the thought, I continue, reaching the front of the store to find an inviting sitting area with high-backed brown chairs facing the public entrance, framed by bookshelves and decorated with stone tables a shade darker than the floors. To my right is a glass counter containing statues, and behind it is a doorway, voices lifting from inside. A male and a female are arguing in Italian, and I feel more than a tad awkward. I can’t speak Italian, but they might not know that and it feels like I’m eavesdropping. Part of me wants to leave. Another just wants this first meeting with Adriel to be over.
I inhale and make my decision. I’m here. I’m doing this. I call out, “Hello!”
Their conversation stops abruptly. I wait. And wait, worried about the first moment Adriel appears until finally it happens. He appears in the archway of the door, his features hard, even sharp, his black hair thick and curly, his deep green eyes fixed on me. He also has a long scar down his cheek that I have a bad feeling came from treasure hunting, and a picture is forming. People die and get hurt when they work for The Underground. Kayden could die or get hurt, and this realization is not a good one. I’m falling for him, and I fear that is a dangerous proposition in ways I have yet to fully understand.
“Ella,” he says in greeting, his jaw clenched hard, his navy collared shirt and dark jeans framing a large and muscular body. “Does Kayden know you’re here?”