Demand - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,44
and standing up. “I’ll go get your hair color.”
“I appreciate that,” I say, following her out of the closet.
She runs her fingers over the edge of the giant white sunken tub, then turns to look at me. “This is unacceptable. You two need to decide what days I can come in and clean and cook. I know you want privacy, but this place is getting dusty, and you both need good food.”
I smile. “I understand. It is unacceptable. How about Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings?”
“Plan on me being here all day this Monday. And be at the table for breakfast at nine.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She motions to the closet. “Go try on clothes, and call me if you don’t find a perfect dress.”
“I don’t know what that means for this event. Any idea as to what I should expect?”
“Arrogance, money, and power.”
“Kayden,” I joke.
“He has humility. Most of them do not. So expect these dresses to be outrageously expensive, since tonight there will be plenty of judgment of your worth.” She starts for the door and pauses to look at me. “He never told Elizabeth the secrets of The Underground. He loved her but he shielded her, though ultimately he knew one day she’d see everything. And because that day never came, he never knew if she really loved all of him.” She leaves without another word.
I stare after her, thinking of my encounter with Kayden earlier today, and one thing replays in my head. He has been alone in his guilt for a very long time, but then, wasn’t he always alone, if he never allowed anyone to see every shade of right and wrong that he might be? You have no idea how dark I can be. It is then that I think, I have a dark side, too. That’s why Kayden and I connect. We are alike in ways neither of us know. Surprised by these unexpected ideas, I suck in a breath and wait for my mind to show me some horrible atrocity—perhaps the very one I’ve been hiding from. But nothing comes to me.
What does come to me is Marabella’s story about Giada and Gallo, and the journal I stupidly left lying around. I suddenly want to know how damning anything inside might be if it was shown to Gallo.
Exhaling, I hurry into the closet and sit down on the bench, pulling my purse over my head to remove the journal, and I open it down the center. The first page I turn to is a list of bullet points: Tied to a bed. Cold. Scared. I flash back once more to that night, and I can feel that man, whoever he is, naked against me as he declares, “There is always a price for power, but losing you will not be mine. I protect what is mine.” He leans into me, his cheek pressed to mine, his lips at my ear to add, “And you are mine.”
Swallowing hard, I read the next note. As long as he is alive, that man will never let me go. I slam the journal shut, deciding anything Giada read inside will cause me, and Kayden, problems. I set it next to me and remove Charlie from my purse, letting the cold steel comfort me. “He will let me go,” I say vehemently, before I set the gun on top of the journal. “He will.”
Welcoming an escape from the past, I pick up the black bag Kayden told me to open alone and pull out all of the black tissue. Inside is a rectangular red velvet box. My heart starts to pound with welcome excitement, and I pop open the lid, and suck in air. Inside is a gorgeous bracelet with a silver and black hawk in the center that looks incredibly like the tattoo on Kayden’s wrist; the spread wings are etched with diamonds, while four thin delicate black strands on each side make up the band. This is not something he randomly picked out. I shut the lid, setting the box next to Charlie, and pull the card from the bag.
Wearing this means that you are mine to protect, and anyone who harms you will pay a price. Wear this tonight and choose to protect yourself. Wear it again, and choose me—but only when you understand what that means. Right now, you do not.
—Kayden
I stare down at the phrase, You are mine to protect. And despite the many ways every specific word Kayden chose changes the context and the