Demand - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,42
still focused on Adriel, who arches a brow my direction.
“Something I can do for you?”
“Did you see the journal I left on the table?”
Irritation flints over his expression. “Unless it has to do with football right now, I not only have zero idea what you are talking about, I don’t care.”
“Oh, good grief, Adriel,” Giada says, moving toward us. “You men and your football. You get so rude. It has to be here.” She glances at her brother. “Get up.”
He gives her a heavy-lidded stare, and she squats by the couch, looking around his feet, then stands and grimaces. “I don’t see it, but it has to be here. I’ll keep looking for it.”
I want to ask Adriel to stand, but he’s leaned forward, watching the game. “Thanks,” I say, motioning toward the door. “Marabella is waiting to help me carry my delivery items upstairs.” I turn and hurry away, running through the things I have inside that might be bad if they were discovered by any of the Hunters, who know I managed to get on Niccolo’s radar in that alleyway, but not why.
I’ve just arrived at the front of the store to feel guilty at the discovery that Marabella managed to carry all of the packages, when I hear Adriel say, “Ella.”
I turn to find him close, too close, towering over me, my journal in his hand. “Don’t leave things like this lying around,” he says, offering it to me.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting it, only to find myself fixed in his hard, deep green stare, a lock of his curly black hair teasing his forehead.
“Let Enzo be a lesson,” he stuns me by saying. “Mistakes have consequences.” He turns and walks away, exiting the store into the main castle, as if he can no longer stomach the game that he saw as pleasure minutes before. And for the second time in twenty-four hours, I’m not sure if he’s warned me or threatened me. Kayden isn’t my enemy, nor am I his, but Adriel . . . I just don’t know.
I wait a good two minutes before I exit the store, hitting the button to shut the door with my elbow, and my gaze travels down the hallway to the room where Enzo died. For several seconds, I relive the moment when Nathan declared Enzo gone. And yet, we’ve eaten pizza, told jokes, and I’m about to try on fancy dresses. Like he never existed. Like he didn’t just die. My chest tightens and I think of Kayden, wondering how many times thoughts of Enzo have gutted him today. Suddenly, I really need to talk to him, and not giving myself time to change my mind, I unzip my purse and grab my phone, quickly punching in his number.
“Ella,” he answers in only one ring, the deep textured tone of his voice doing funny things to my stomach. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. This isn’t an emergency. Does that mean this is a bad time?”
“The only time it’s a bad time is if I tell you not to call unless it’s an emergency.”
“I thought we both needed to know that it’s not a crisis every time I call. And I thought you needed to know that I will call.”
“Indeed,” he says softly. “I did.”
“But I know you’re busy with whatever you’re doing, and honestly, I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“I’m taking that advice you gave me last night in the shower about closure.”
My eyes go wide. “About . . .” I catch myself before I say “Enzo,” not sure if the phones could be tapped. “You are?”
“Yes. I am, and at the moment I’m waiting on a few details to come together.”
“I’m glad you’re doing this. It’s the right thing.”
“But not the easy thing—and I wouldn’t have done it if not for you.” His voice is gravelly, exhausted almost. “Maybe you’ll make me a better person.”
I read that as the self-blame it is. “This wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”
“Responsibility and blame,” he says. “The two walk the same fine line as love and hate.”
He means us. I know he does. “I could come with you. Maybe I could help.”
“Not this time. There’s too much I don’t want you near.” He hesitates. “I know I’m protective.”
I laugh. “Just a little.”
“And bossy—”
“Ridiculously bossy.”
“I just don’t want this world to destroy you or us. It’s going to take me time to ease up. Actually, I’m not sure I will.”
“You will,” I promise, “simply because I’m going to get better at