After a nap, Kace and I join Adrian and Savage in the lounge, and soon a bottle of expensive wine is broken out. Savage fills my glass. “Is this okay for me right now?”
“You didn’t react to the booze. You reacted to the drugs, but,” he takes my glass, “I’ll drink yours. You wait a few days.”
Which is fine by me, I think. I’d rather start my period before I drink again.
Kace whips out his practice violin, and I forget wine and pregnancy as he delivers a prelude to home with a little taste of home: his brilliant version of Paganini’s “Caprice No. 5.” Because to me, home is where my love of the violin began. I’m in heaven on a plane when Adrian challenges him to play, Maluma’s “11pm” a hit song on the Latin charts, and to my surprise, Kace knows it.
“Big fan,” he says, giving me a wink, and then he’s playing while Adrian begins to sing in Spanish and well. Really well. Savage is up dancing when he hits his head and we are all in stitches laughing. When the song concludes, Savage is refilling glasses.
“You’re a great singer, Adrian,” I say. “Wow.”
Savage lifts his glass in Adrian’s direction. “This mofo’s brother is Rafael, as in the famous Mexican singer. And yet, here Adrian is, a badass with a gun, chasing bad guys instead of becoming a pop star.”
“Your brother?” I ask, casting Adrian a keen eye, and thinking of the brother he said he’d killed.
“The other brother,” Adrian says. “Rafael’s the good one. I stay away so he stays that way.”
He stays away so his brother stays that way, I repeat in my mind, and even as I do, it rings true for Gio. He is guilty of living a double life, but I know he never intended for me to be hurt. I know he didn’t plan to hand me over to Sofia last night. He thought he could keep his life and mine divided and therefore keep me safe and that backfired. Now it’s my turn to keep us both safe.
An hour later, Kace and I are strapped into two leather seats and we land in Rome in the early afternoon at a private airport. We’re still taxiing when I reach for my phone in my purse to find it missing. “Do you know where my phone is?”
“Dismantled along with mine, until after we go public,” he says. “We both have burner phones in the suitcase, including a few extras to toss after any high-risk call.”
“But how will I call Gio or he me?”
“You can check your messages,” he replies, “and then use a burner phone to call him, but it has to be trashed after the call. Your number isn’t gone. We just can’t use our phones right now or we risk being traced.”
It’s moments like these that make me wonder how my mother kept us off the radar all those years. Of course, Gio wasn’t flying off to Italy back then either. “And what about Nancy?” I ask. “She’s going to know something is up if I don’t take her calls.”
“Blake’s going to give us a more detailed update on what he found out about her later today. Then we’ll talk through how to handle her.”
Savage leans over the seat. “Bloodwork looks good. The moral of the story is—well, I don’t have a moral to the story, but Adrian probably has a bad joke about it. Wait for it. You’ll see.” With that, he disappears again.
I digest his words with a momentarily blip of relief and then I’m back to the topic of Gio and how to reach him. “How do I check my messages?”
“Adrian’s going to help us get everything set-up once we’re at the castle.”
The plane halts and Kace stands up. “We’re here, baby. Home sweet Italy.”
I smile with those words, and I feel that smile all the way to my soul. “Home sweet Italy.” I stand and we make our way to the exit, and any hesitation I might have had about stepping foot back in Italy has faded during this flight. I’m ready to own our plan, to move forward, to celebrate a new year in a whole new light.
Kace and I exit the plane behind Adrian and in front of Savage, who is big, broad, and lethal, all the jokes aside right now. I realize now how they change in duty, not so much in personality but in energy. Right now, they really are Terminators protecting us. It doesn’t feel like they expect danger, but rather, they’re ready for it should it surprise us. I decide that’s actually pretty liberating. No one gets to us without going through them and they’ve already proven they will win a confrontation. Hand in hand with Kace, I draw my first breath of Italian air since I was eleven and it’s perfection, filling me with memories of pasta, holidays, and daises in the wind. The weather is milder than I expected, my coat too heavy, but then I am warm from the inside out. We walk down the short flight of stairs to find a stunning pair, a man and woman, waiting on us, both in all black, including their boots and jackets. It’s Kayden and Ella, I just know. She’s red-headed, petite, beautiful. He’s tall, with longish light brown hair, a square jaw, and a dimple in his chin.
Adrian is the first to greet them, shaking Kayden’s hand and laughing with him and Ella just before Kace and I join them.
“Aria,” Ella greets, her green eyes landing on me, her red silky hair blowing in the wind. “I’m Ella.” She steps into me and hugs me. “Sara told me so much about you.” She inches back to look at me. “I know what it’s like to hide. I know what it’s like to stop hiding. We’re going to help you do that safely.”
I believe her. I believe her. There is just something about her, just as there is about Sara. “Thank you,” I say. “So very much.”
“No thanks needed.”
She smiles and eases back to her spot next to Kayden, while Kayden and Kace are shaking hands, and my gaze catches on a glimpse of ink on his arm, gone before I can make it out. “Piacere di conoscerti, Aria,” he says, turning his attention on me. His eyes are a striking pale blue, not quite as intense as Kace’s, but pretty intense.
As for his greeting, it means “nice to meet you” in Italian, and my eyes pinch a little as I answer with “Piacere di conoscerti, Kayden,” speaking my native language freely, comfortably for the first time in my adult life and doing so here in Italy.
“Did you speak English when you went to the States?” he asks, an easy confidence and air of control about him that does nothing to diminish his friendliness.
“I did,” I confirm. “My parents felt it was important for me to know English.”
“Kayden and I have both lived in the States,” Ella says, “so we appreciate the differences in good and bad ways between the States and Italy.”
“Kayden,” Savage greets, stepping into our little circle to shake Kayden’s hand. “How the fuck are you?” he asks, but before Kayden can answer, Savage eyes Ella and holds ups his hands. “Don’t kick my ass. I’ll be good on this trip.”
Ella laughs a sweet, friendly laugh. “You’re never good, Savage.”
Kace slides his arm around me and Kayden’s attention is back on us. “We have a lot to talk about,” he says. “Let’s get to the castle and you two can wash up and rest, and we’ll have some real Italian food and talk.” He motions to a black SUV, which is apparently the universal vehicle for bodyguards. “Your driver is Sasha,” he adds, “who will kick anyone’s ass in her way, including mine. We’ll follow you to the castle.”
My gaze lifts to a silver sports car just beyond the SUV that’s obviously their ride. The Underground is clearly treating Kayden right. Sometimes money and power breeds a need for more money and power, but I have no sense that Kayden and Ella are those people. My gut, and friends I trust, say to trust them.
Kace and I head toward the SUV and Sasha, a pretty brunette who oozes attitude and sex. “I’m Sasha,” she says, looking between us, “and I get it. Aria’s royalty in these parts and you, Kace August, are famous. Which is why I’m your personal ass-kicker.”
Adrian joins us. “I can handle the ass-kicking.”
Sasha snorts. “Men. They always think they kick ass. Right until they get their asses kicked. Notice Savage isn’t riding with us. Because he learned the hard way.” She motions to Adrian and the vehicle. “You can get the door.” She heads around the hood and calls out, “Let’s go, my little pretties.”
Adrian’s smiling when he opens the door. “Love me some attitude. This won’t be a boring few weeks, that’s for damn sure.”
Laughing, I head to the vehicle, but just before I climb inside Kace catches my elbow. I turn to him and he steps behind the door, sheltering me between it and him. “How do you feel so far?” he asks, his voice a low masculine hum of concern.
“Good. I feel good about them and this. Like I’m where I’m supposed to be. Like we’re where we’re supposed to be. Whatever happens here is what was meant to happen. I know that sounds silly, but I feel it clear to my soul.”