My conversation with Kace post-spanking lingers in my mind as I change into jeans, a pink sweater, and knee-high boots. I’m presently standing at the bathroom sink, repairing my make-up, when a particular statement he’d made punches at my mind: She taught me a lot about control. He’d said it so nonchalantly, but this not an insignificant relationship. I want to know more about this woman who has obviously done much to shape the boy who became a man. But then so did his ex, Maggie, in life and death. It’s a chilling thought, and I realize now that I really haven’t asked much about Kace’s love life outside of Maggie. Mine is simple outside of him. There wasn’t one. Ever. Who was this woman who pulled him into the world of BDSM? And just how into it was he? Surely not too intensely as he’s a public figure.
The doorbell rings and I powder my nose and inspect my puffy eyes. I still look like I’ve been crying, but the truth is that I’m actually remarkably calmer than I was before. A spanking, whiskey, and tears seem to have worked some magic on me. I’ve come down ten notches, and when I head for the stairs to join Kace and Blake, I feel as if my intellect, not my emotions, are in control. As far as Gio goes, I don’t know where his head is, but he’s always been a wild card, bucking convention. Mom was the only reason he restrained himself in the first place and I truly wonder how long he’s been at his hunt. Perhaps far longer than I think.
Hoping for insight on many things, I follow Kace’s and Blake’s voices to the kitchen. Sure enough, they’re at the island, which has become the meeting spot, both at the endcaps facing each other. Almost instantly, both men are looking at me and I don’t miss the keen inspection by either, and when my eyes meet Kace’s, there is an instant whip of heated intimacy, newly deepened between us. Feeling as if Blake will somehow know that I was just naked and bent over a chair, getting spanked by Kace, I hurry to Kace’s side, as if that alone shelters me. Kace immediately twines the fingers of his nearest hand to mine, a question in the touch that I recognize instantly. I glance up at him and kiss his cheek. “I’m remarkably better,” I assure him.
“Good to hear,” he says, a hint of mischief and conquest in his voice as he adds, “That was the plan.” I find I don’t mind the conquest or the mischief, not with the gentle mix of tenderness in his stare.
“What did I miss?” I ask, looking from him to Blake.
Kace releases my hand and presses his to the island. “Blake was just telling me about the journal.”
My heart jackhammers and I glance at Kace and then back at Blake, solidly back into my new reality, the one where my past, present, and future seem to be colliding. “Were you able to blow up the journal pages, Blake?”
“I was,” Blake confirms, “and with some cross-referencing to your father’s public records I confirmed his handwriting. This is the real deal.” He stops on the other side of the island with Kace and sets the pages on the counter.
I grab them and scan, my heart squeezing at the sight of my father’s writing, and the references to his beloved daughter. It’s all here. The one true daisy, Kace, and his daughter. The legacy is in you and in him, Aria. I’ve taught you the lessons you need to know. I’ve shown Kace the secrets inside the violin. You, daughter, decide if that secret lives or dies. All good things come to an end. Sometimes there is value to that end. My eyes pinch all over again, Lord help me, and I set aside the note. Thank God I’m in a better place right now, or who knows how this would be affecting me.
“I know Kace told you about Angelena,” I say, prodding for information.
“He did,” Blake confirms. “Angelena hasn’t been seen in nearly two decades and if that was her who called—”
“It was,” I insist. “I know her voice. Can you tell me anything about the call? Did it come from Italy?”
“Try someone around Grand Central Station here in the city,” Blake says. “That call was not international.”
Kace doesn’t move, but his energy jackhammers about as hard as my heart did a few minutes earlier, tension radiating from him. “Two questions.” His voice is low, tight. “Can we trace the call to a person and what the hell does that tell us about the intent behind that call?”
“The number is unregistered, which likely means a prepaid phone,” Blake says. “As for intent, I don’t know enough about Angelena to state an opinion. That said, my people on the ground in Italy confirm she’s been missing for years. She could have been hiding out here.”
“If she’s here, then she’s likely with Sofia,” I say. “Because Gio followed Sofia back to the States. Or so he said. All of this feels like a plan to make sure Kace and I have what we need to decode the formula. I don’t even care about the formula. I want this to end.” I look to Kace. “They can have it.”
“No,” he says. “No, they can’t.” He eyes Blake. “We need a plan that doesn’t include Aria giving up her family legacy.”
“Actually,” Blake says, “I’m with Aria. They want the formula, let’s give it to them so you can both move on and live your lives.”
“That’s not a plan,” Kace says, and while his voice is low, it’s also tight, a snap of displeasure beneath its surface.
“Hear me out,” Blake says, moving to the end of the island now. “We go to Europe and do an interview announcing the discovery of the formula at the Louvre.”
I blink. “As in the Louvre in Paris? Where the Mona Lisa is kept?”
“Exactly,” Blake confirms. “You come out as Aria Stradivari and you announce the formula is being vaulted at the Louvre. Tell the world you’ve decided it will not be released to the public.” He eyes Kace. “If you’ll donate a Stradivarius, then it can be the display.”
I blink and then gape. “Donate a Stradivarius? That’s millions of dollars. No. He’s not donating a Stradivarius.”
“I’ll do it, baby,” Kace says, all nonchalant like it’s no big deal. “It’s a good tax write-off.”
“No,” I say, ignoring the stubbornness etched in his face, and returning my attention to Blake. “No.”
“Chris sits on the board,” Blake says. “If he can make it happen without the violin, we’ll try, but I have to talk to Chris and tell him what we’re doing.”
Kace is now focused on me. “You okay with Chris and Sara knowing?”
“Yes,” I say, surprised at how easily I offered that confirmation. Gio doesn’t trust my instincts, but I do. I trust Chris and Sara and just to be sure Kace knows I’m certain, I add, “Yes, of course.”
“The idea behind this plan,” Blake says, “is that to the outsiders looking in, the formula has been discovered, but it’s untouchable.”
“One small problem,” I point out. “We don’t have the formula.”
“That’s where Chris comes into play,” Blake assures me. “We’ll get the Louvre to play along until you do have it, at which time, we’ll commit to it remaining there.”
Kace rejects the plan. “That’s not going to work. We’re forgetting that they, whoever the hell they are, will still believe Aria and I know the formula. They’ll keep coming after us.”
“Then give them a formula,” Blake says without missing a beat, “have it on display, with copyrights in place. But give them the wrong formula. Get close, but not exact. Tell the world you found your father’s journal. You think you’ve cracked the code. When they figure out it’s wrong, you simply say that you tried.”
“We’re back to the original problem,” I say. “We don’t have the formula.”
“Well, convince the museum to say they have it with plans to reveal it months from now,” Blake says. “And if you don’t figure it out, we’ll regroup.”
He eyes Kace, but Kace is focused on me, waiting for my response. In that moment, I can almost feel the universe sewing the threads of our existence together with my father’s help. Kace and I are connected in ways we could never have understood the day we met. This is no longer a decision that affects only me and my brother. It affects Kace. “What do you think?”
His gaze shifts to Blake. “Let us talk.”
Blake gives a nod and then he’s gone, heading down the stairs.
Kace and I turn to face each other, each of us with a hand on the island. “What do you think?” I ask again.
“I think it’s a good plan. I think it’s the only move.”
“Me, too,” I say.
His fingers catch mine again. “Gio, baby—”
“I didn’t even tell him about the song. I didn’t tell him our plan for me to come out as myself, even before this broader vision, I didn’t tell him.”
“Why?”
“My instincts told me not to and I don’t think we can now. How did I go from trusting him more than anyone in the world to this?”
His hand settles on my hip and he walks me to him. “While you were changing I was thinking about what you said about your father trusting me and not him. My father had a protégé. Alan Denver. He wanted me to be him and as much as I came to hate my father, I hated Alan more.”
“Where is he now?”
“CEO of one of my father’s companies. That’s half the reason I didn’t sell off at first. Some part of me needed him to know who was in control. In other words, it wasn’t just a ‘fuck you’ to my father, but also for Alan. Gio already knew I had something to do with the formula, even before we knew. Imagine showing back up and finding out I’m in bed with his sister. He’s angry and I believe that from the outside looking in, he has reasons to want you away from me. Don’t doubt that he loves you.”
“I know he loves me and I know you’re right.” Tormented by where I am with Gio, I rotate and rest my elbows on the island, looking skyward and then back at him. “I still don’t trust him. He led a secret life for who knows how long.” I push off the island and face him again. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Start by going to Germany with me.”
I blink. “Germany?”
“I talked to Blake about getting you out of the city where all the heat seems to have focused. I have a home there. We have a home there.”
“We?” I ask softly, a rush of emotions washing over me and settling in my chest.
“What’s mine is yours, baby.”
My fingers curl on his jaw. “And what’s mine is yours.”
He kisses my hand and surprises me by saying, “Actually, no.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He walks to a drawer by the stove and returns with an envelope that he sets on the island. “That’s a contractual agreement that I will never profit from the formula.”
“No,” I say firmly. “No, you are sharing my life, too, Kace. If that formula somehow turns into a future for me, it’s your future, too. I won’t take and not give.”
“You give me everything, Aria.” The way he says everything is low and rough and yet somehow tender, so tender my chest flutters as he adds, “And I have more than I could ever spend in ten lifetimes. This will help your brother come around, but I don’t want you to accept it blindly either. Walker has several attorneys on staff. One of them is going to meet you tomorrow and talk about how to protect yourself. I’d have you meet my guy, but he has my interests in mind.”
“You do, too,” I argue.
“I do,” he agrees, “which is why I want you to meet the attorney and then talk to your brother again. Decide then what to tell him.”
His hand slides under my hair to my neck, warm and strong. “And then say yes to going to Germany with me.”
I have this sense of living in that storybook that once had blank pages, boring and cold, and now has become a colorful adventure of love, life, and laughter. My hand presses to his heart. “I am so in love with you, Kace August.”
A smile curves his lips. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” His lips lower to mine. “And I am so damn in love with you, Aria Stradivari, that it almost hurts.”