Demand (13 page)

Leaving the closet, I walk into the bedroom, glancing at the clock, which reads twelve fifteen. I have forty-five minutes to kill before my lunch with Giada, and I pull my journal from my purse, opening it to a random page. I find one of the many butterfly drawings there, and while I now know they represent the necklace, for some reason, it still feels like it means something else. Or maybe the butterfly is a part of a memory I can't quite reach. Desperate to fill the black holes of my mind, I decide that stimuli trigger memories, and since I won't get that alone in this room, I'll head to the store early. I shut the journal and replace it in my purse.

I quickly make my way to the main castle foyer, and as I head up the central tower steps toward the store, I hear, “Ella!”

I turn to find Giada rushing up the stairs toward me. While her all-black jeans, boots, and sweater would strike me as stylish another time, today I have a feeling she's trying to stay low-key. “Thank God you're early. I'm suffocating in that tower. Marabella and Adriel have been watching over me like a hawk.”

A Hawk.
Kayden
. He is The Hawk and right now, I am an extension of him. “Because last night was bad, Giada. I need to know what you said to Gallo.”

“I told him there were men here with guns. Nothing more.”

“Giada—”

“I didn't tell him anything more.” She tears up. “I had just seen Enzo lying in his own blood. I was supposed to go on a date with him, Ella, and he was dying. He
did
die. I didn't really know him, but I might have, and
I hate
The Underground.”

Stunned by this revelation, which doesn't justify her actions but helps explain them, I pull her into a hug. “I know that hurt. I know it scared you.”

She sobs and I hold her for several seconds, before she makes a low, frustrated sound and pulls away from me. “This is why I hate Kayden.”

Protectiveness flares in me hard and fast, forcing me to tamp down on it just as quickly. “I know why you're connecting this to The Underground, to the many tragedies in your life—but Kayden gave Enzo specific orders that he ignored.”

“Kayden tells those men when to pee.”

“Kayden gave him an order that he ignored,” I repeat. “And we all make choices, and we live or die with them.”

“Kayden gave him the job he was on, knowing it was dangerous,” she argues.

“Kayden tried to talk him out of the job. And when he finally let him take it, he told him to observe and report. Instead, Enzo charged after his prize—and he knew the risks.”

She glares at me and then storms past me to the store.

I follow. “Giada,” I say, but she ignores me, keying in the code to open the heavy wooden door arched in front of us, then staring forward. “Giada, damn it,” I growl. “Look at me.”

She faces me. “You're fucking Kayden. You're not objective.”

“Kayden is much more than a
fuck
to me,” I snap, irritated at her crassness, which matches Gallo's a little too closely. “Do you think I'm not terrified that when he walks out of the door, he won't come back?”

“Then get out while you can. Because mark my words: one day, he won't come back.”

“Yes, he will. I have to believe that. And even if he doesn't, I'm not giving up days of my life that could be spent with him, just because there might not be one more.
This
is who they are. They
are
The Underground, Adriel included. Like my father was in the Army. He was a risk taker. Kayden and Adriel are risk takers. Loving them means accepting them.” She tries to duck under the door, and I grab her arm, forcing her to look at me. “Loving them means accepting them,” I repeat. “Keeping them safe means accepting them—not distracting them, which could get them killed. If you can't do that, I'm sorry, but you can't stay here. You have to leave.”

“You can't say that. Adriel says that.”

“This is Kayden's home. Unless you're able to do a one-eighty, you're gone. And even then, it might be too late.”

“In other words, he's going to kick me out. I should have known it.”

“You're right. You should have. He's The Hawk, and he carries every loss of life he's experienced as a hole in his heart. He won't let you be one of them. Or Adriel. And you're going to get Adriel killed.”

“Now
I'm
the one putting him in danger?”

“Sweetie. He is part of The Underground—”

“He's not.”

“He is. And every moment he denies it is misery to him.”

“What about me? What about how
I
feel?”

“Not everything is about you. We all lose people. We all hurt. And we're all in danger when you act like you did last night. Grow up, Giada. And show some appreciation for Kayden, who lets you live here, and set up a fortune in a trust for you. And show some appreciation for your brother, who's miserable running a damn store, when he wants to hunt.”

“You don't know him.”

“Apparently, I know him better than you, because the hunt is in that man's eyes. Let him be happy. You have a fortune in a trust fund. You can do anything. Be anything. Go anywhere.”

“I'm not leaving here. I'm not leaving my brother.”

“Then you have changes to make, and some real convincing to do,” I say. “Think about it.” I turn away and enter the store, taking broad, adrenaline-laden steps, when I stop dead in my tracks at the realization that Adriel is standing there in front of me, his legs planted in a V, his arms folded over his chest.

I hold my breath, not sure what he overheard, or how he's going to react. But as we stare at each other, there is less ice than before, and after several moments, he nods in appreciation.

I give him a nod in return. “I was going to have lunch with Giada, but I thought it best we stay in. Do Italians have pizza delivery?”

His lips quirk, his mood remarkably, palpably, lighter. “This isn't ancient Rome. Of course we have pizza delivery.”

“I was hoping to hang out here. My tower is rather quiet and . . . empty.”

“I know the definition of the word quite well,” he surprises me by saying, lifting one hand toward an archway leading to a part of the store I've never visited. “You'll find a full living room and kitchen there.”

“Thank you.” I start to walk away and pause. “I mentioned to Kayden that I'd like to help out here in the store.”

“And he said what?”

“He wasn't receptive at the time,” I admit.

His lips quirk. “Let me guess. You plan to change his mind.”

“Not change his mind. Just . . . talk.”

“You talk quite effectively,” he comments dryly. “Let me know when you're ready for the keys.”

“So . . . you're okay with it?”

“I hate this fucking store.”

“Good,” I say, glancing around the store, surprised at how excited I am about where this is headed. “Because I think I could kind of love it, and I have a feeling you'll be less of an asshole if I'm running it instead of you.”

“You think I'm an asshole, do you?”

“
You
think you're an asshole,” I counter.

“Only when I have to be.”

“You never have to be with me.”

“Disproven by rethinking last night's events.”

“Last night sideswiped me. It won't happen again.”

He studies me a moment, and slowly, approval lights his eyes. It's the first time I've seen anything light his eyes. “I'll hold you to that.”

“You won't have to,” I assure him.

“You hate the store?” Giada asks, and I don't wait for Adriel's reply, which comes in Italian anyway.

I head toward the archway, glancing at the various displays in glass cases, eager to start exploring them all. Crossing under the giant arch and turning right, I discover a cozy living area with a white stone fireplace in the corner, a brown leather sofa, two oversized matching chairs, and a flat-screen television mounted on the wall. Farther right I find an open-concept kitchen with a gorgeous gray stone island, but my joy at the coziness is doused as I wonder if this was the part of the castle Kayden shared with Elizabeth before she was murdered. If that's the case, I am not bringing up the store to him again.

I return to the living room.

“Ella.”

At the sound of Nathan's voice, I turn to find him standing by the couch, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, his normally clean-shaven jaw shadowed. “My patient transferred to another hospital, so I came by on the way to meet them there.” He motions to the couch. “You want to sit?”

I nod and join him on the couch, angling to face him. “You look tired.”

“It was a hell of a night, and I got called into surgery this morning.”

“What day of the week is it?” I ask. “I really don't know.”

“Saturday. And welcome to my world, where I barely know if it's morning or night.”

“We don't have to do this today.”

“I'm here, and I want to be here. I assume you want to know the same things Kayden wanted to know.”

I actually just wanted to pressure him for a way to trigger my memory, but I suddenly do want the answers Kayden wanted. “He told you that you could tell me?”

“Anything you want to know.”

I am once again reminded of my father's advice.
The truth is in his eyes and his actions.
“What did he ask you?”

“He asked me if the return of your memory could change who you seem to be now.”

“Who I seem to be,” I repeat. The “seem to be” is pretty hard to swallow, but I can't fault Kayden for asking what I also want to know. “And?”

“I've studied the data on this, and there aren't enough cases like yours to be sure.”

“You mean I
could
end up a completely different person?”

“Unlikely.”

“Unlikely?”

“It's very individual.”

“That's a nonanswer.”

“It's the answer I have to give you. Not only are there a minute number of people who've gone through this, but the circumstances they find themselves in could affect the outcome. It's like a husband lost at sea for years, and when he returns his wife has remarried. Does she love him less?”

“Thank God I've remembered enough to know I'm not married,” I say. “If Kayden and I had that over our heads, I'm not sure where we'd be. But there's the potential that something in my past could change us.” I shake my head. “We can't live like this. He can't have unknowns.”

Nathan leans closer, elbows on his knees. “Let me be as clear as possible. Do I think you will wake up and be a different person? No. Do I think you will stop caring about Kayden? No. Do I think the past could influence how either of you feel for each other? Maybe. And do I have one ounce of scientific evidence to justify those answers? Yes. But not much more.”

“And that's not enough for Kayden.”

“He says it is.”

“And we both know it's not, Nathan,” I insist, but I stick to the less-is-more idea, and leave it at that. “We both know that he deserves more than that.
Make me remember
.”

“I can't make you remember.”

“What about drugs or hypnosis?”

“No to drugs, and I don't recommend hypnosis for one simple reason: risk versus reward. It's not documented as highly effective, and we'd have to step outside The Underground. Writing in your journal is the best way to bring back your memories.” His phone buzzes and he pulls it from his pants pocket and glances at it. “I need to go,” he says, his gaze catching on the TV remote. “This part of the castle has American news. Have you tried watching it?”

“No. I had no idea we got American news here.”

“I think I remember Kayden saying it's only in this tower. Some kind of technical issue, so try it. It might be better than hypnosis.” He starts to walk away.

“Wait. Nathan.” He turns and arches a brow. “This room isn't where Kayden and Elizabeth lived, right?”

“No. He left that part of the tower sealed, even after he opened this part. There's a lot he keeps sealed, Ella. He's his own best enemy. Not you.”

“Is that what you told him when he asked you about me?”

“Yes.”

The answer is too simple. “But he wanted more, just like me.”

“Of course he wanted more, and I had to tell him exactly what I'll say to you. You're suppressing something, and no matter how much you say you want to remember it, you don't. Your mind is protecting you from what it thinks you can't handle. You'll remember it when you're ready.”

He leaves, having confirmed that he's all but told Kayden that I'm the potential time bomb I've feared.

I
stare after Nathan, watching him disappear around the corner, and I decide he's done me a favor by removing any answer to my questions but me. I have to solve this. I have to remember and stop hiding from my past, and just deal with it. That means exposing myself to triggers in every way I can.