“No. She can’t. In other words, she can’t have the truth.”
“Can you at least give her a goodbye, not a disappearance? Make it seem like a car accident or some other accident? If not now, then later, to give her closure?”
“Gallo will dig around.”
“Matteo is good at painting a perfect picture.”
His cell phone starts ringing again, and he looks upward. “Jesus, I just need a fucking hour.” He starts to get up.
I grab his arm. “Let it ring.”
“I can’t do that tonight.” He stands and helps me up. “No one else can know I’m struggling with this. They can’t know I need five minutes, let alone an hour.”
“Of course not. But it’s got to be at least four in the morning. Seriously, can’t you let it go?” His phone stops ringing and almost immediately starts again.
“They’re moving the body while the police chief has Gallo on a leash. I have to take it.”
I suck in air at the announcement, and he exits the shower. The reality of what he’s jus
t spoken a little too brutal, and suddenly I need to wash the death off of me, too. I turn and grab the sweet-smelling shampoo Marabella bought me, wet my hair with the quickly chilling water, and suds up my hair and body. Images start flickering without definition in my head and while I try to invite and embrace memories, I’m not sure now is the time. I try to shove them away, pouring conditioner into my palm and running it through my hair. More images flicker.
“No,” I whisper. “Not now.”
I rinse my hair and find myself standing there as I lose the battle and images begin flowing freely. I relive the moment I grabbed my father’s gun, the kitchen door flew open, and I shot and killed the man in black who entered. I am tormented. I am heartbroken. I am angry. The next moment, I’m in the foyer of the castle, wrapping a torn shirt around Enzo’s wound, blood gushing everywhere, while I scream orders at Kayden’s men to help me. I’m terrified for him. I am terrified of failing to save him. Finally, I’m leaning over David, blood gushing from his chest as he whispers, “Don’t give him the necklace.” And I feel angry. So very angry, and I don’t understand why I’m not trying to save him.
“They’re connected,” I whisper. These three events are connected. One dot, two dots, three dots. That’s why I’m remembering them together. They’re connected—but how? It makes no sense.
“Ella. Sweetheart.”
I blink again and see Kayden, and I’m sitting in the corner of the shower, with no memory of how I got there, and he’s kneeling in front of me.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“David’s dead,” I say. “Did you know that?” I don’t give him a chance to answer. “But before he died, he lay there in his own blood and told me not to give ‘him’ the necklace.” My eyes meet Kayden’s. “Was he talking about you?”
five
Kayden’s hands come down on my arms and he stands, taking me with him. “Let’s get you out of the shower.” He reaches over and turns off the water.
“That’s not a no, Kayden. Was David talking about you?”
“I had no idea David was dead,” he says, wrapping his arm around me and urging me out of the shower.
“That’s still not an answer,” I say, grabbing a towel and knotting it at my chest. “Was he talking about you?”
“That’s a complicated question, which I will answer. But here’s how this is going to happen. We’re going to get some clothes on and I’m going to make a pot of coffee. Then we’ll sit at the kitchen table and have a past-due talk.”
“Just tell me now and get it over with.”
“Like I said, you asked a complicated question that has a complicated answer. And while we’re both naked, and emotions are high—”
“I’m calm and rational.”
“You are always remarkably calm and rational. Two of the many things I love about you, Ella. But you’re wet, cold, and exhausted, not to mention affected by losing Enzo. Although this is the wrong time for this conversation, we need to have it—but my way. And that means that I’m going to get dressed and get that coffee going. You take time to dry your hair, and I’ll be waiting when you’re ready.” He steps around me and heads for the closet.
He’s right. We need to have this conversation in the kitchen. I grab another towel and partially dry my hair. It’s then that Kayden reenters the bathroom, wearing gray sweats, running shoes, and a white T-shirt stretched over his broad, muscled chest. His light brown hair lies in damp tendrils framing his handsome face.
He doesn’t immediately touch me, and despite every reason I have to doubt him right now, I want him to. “I need you to be the man I think you are.”