I think of my father lying in his own blood and I say, “Yes. I do. I’ve lost people. And so has Kayden—everyone he loves. You don’t seem to understand, or even try to understand, that Kayden inherited the huge burden of being The Hawk. Losing Enzo gutted him.”
She considers me a few beats. “Enzo disobeyed his orders?”
“Yes. He absolutely did. Kayden was concerned about him when he went missing, and he told me the details.”
“It wasn’t a hunt Kayden sent him on?”
“No. It absolutely was not.”
She inhales and lets it out. “Adriel won’t move away, because he needs to be close to all of this. And I won’t move away, because I need to be close to him.”
“What about moving out of the castle, where you aren’t reminded of all of this so readily?”
“That’s like giving Adriel a license to hunt.”
“It’s only a matter of time until he does that anyway. Let him be who he is, and give yourself permission to find out who you are, too. And just know this before you say no. Kayden sets ethical boundaries for his Hunters. He expects safety over money. He protects his people at all costs, and would die for any of them. He set up a massive trust fund for you to honor your father. How many people would do that?”
“You really believe in him.”
“I believe in him completely. Passionately. And I won’t lose him due to your risking his life and safety, like you did last night.”
“And your life,” she says. “Last night you said—”
“That you endangered all of our lives,” I quickly insert, wishing I hadn’t spouted off last night. “And you did.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I truly am, and I don’t know how to fix this.”
“We’ll talk to Kayden—but I want you to think about what you really want to do, first. And talk to Adriel. Really talk to him.”
She nods. “I will. Thank you, Ella. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.”
A buzzing sound goes off and my eyes go wide. “Please tell me that’s not a breach alarm.”
“It’s not. It’s the buzzer to the front door for the store, and our pizza, I’m sure. Adriel ordered for himself as well, so I’m sure he’ll grab the delivery, but knowing him, I’d better go get ours before he eats it, too.” She stands but never makes it any farther before we hear, “The food has arrived.”
Surprised to hear Marabella’s voice, I shut my journal and twist around to find her entering the living area with several pizza boxes in her hands. “Had I made this, it would have been better,” she declares. “However,” she adds, setting the boxes down in front of me, then straightening, her hands settling on her robust hips, “I do know the owner of this restaurant and he’s almost as good in the kitchen as I am.”
“We’re settling for his,” I say. “When can I try yours?”
“You could have tried it today, but no one asked me,” she scolds. “I’ll make one for you and Kayden tomorrow.”
And while her words are as warm and playful as ever, her energy is as uncharacteristically dark as her black dress, and, concerned that the death of Enzo has rattled her, with no one to offer comfort, I ask, “Will you join us? Aside from loving your company, I could use some hel
p learning Italian.” I glance between her and Giada. “Can you ladies help?”
“Of course we can,” Marabella replies, crossing her arms in front of her and studying me. “You really do need to learn Italian to live here.”
“I really do,” I agree. “I hate it when people are talking around me and I have no idea what’s being said. Why did you both learn English?”
“I learned when I started working here in the castle,” Marabella replies. “And Giada was brought up bilingual by her father. She even went to one of the American colleges nearby.”
“I’m a good teacher, too,” Giada interjects. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about looking into a teaching job.”
I flash back to my friend Sara’s apartment, both of us sitting on her floor, with papers on her coffee table. “It’s going to be a long night of grading these papers for class tomorrow,” Sara says. “How about we order pizza?”
The memory is gone as fast as it begins, and I find myself frowning at the idea of me being a teacher. That doesn’t feel right, though I am certain my mother was a dance instructor, maybe music, too, and I’m very maternal with Giada. But grading papers doesn’t feel like music or dance.