Demand - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,72
you tried to let me go, I wouldn’t let you.”
“Says the woman who hasn’t experienced just how protective I can be yet.”
“I think I have.”
“You haven’t, but I have a feeling I haven’t experienced the full wrath of your anger yet, either.” He wraps his arms around me. “I have a feeling we’re going to do a lot of that fighting and fucking, and then making love. But I’m in if you are.”
“I am. Completely in, Kayden.”
His phone rings and he grimaces. “Obviously, I could have timed this better,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “That’s going to be Matteo telling me he’s here with video from the party. Do you want to watch it with us?”
“Yes,” I say, pleased that he’s included me. “Thank you.”
He cups my face and stares down at me. “I’m not losing you, Ella. No matter what that means.” He kisses me, a deep, passionate kiss that is over too quickly. He answers his call, and I put the food away, but as we head down the stairs to the central tower to meet Matteo, his statement comes back to me: I’m not going to lose you, Ella. No matter what that means. And suddenly those words feel foreboding—as if I come with a price he has to pay.
seventeen
I wake the next morning to find Kayden gone, and shocked to discover it’s nearly ten o’clock. Kayden has likely long been awake, so I hurry to the bathroom to brush my teeth and hair, and throw on my leggings and sweater from last night. I won’t be surprised if I find Kayden at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and watching the tapes Matteo left us last night. Kayden’s downright obsessed with knowing every detail that happened to every single person at the event, down to the coat-check girl and the waiters. He leaves nothing to chance, looking for any detail that might be useful now or later, and I wonder if he learned that from Kevin or, as with the creation of Evil Eye, it’s a manifestation of his need for control.
Opening the door to the hallway, I am greeted by a loud banging sound that seems to be coming from upstairs. Frowning, I head up the narrow steps, the noise leading me to the gym and my new dance studio. Once I’ve nearly reached the gym, the sound of American country music, specifically Jason Aldean, one of Kayden’s favorites, touches my ears. Smiling at the certainty that he’s working out, I hurry through the remaining steps to the training area and equipment. The radio is playing from inside my dance studio.
“Holy fuck, Kayden,” I hear Adriel grumble. “Can we listen to something other than country music?”
“You’re American. You should appreciate this.”
“I’m not fucking American.”
“You just tried to get transferred there,” Kayden says dryly.
“Because you wouldn’t let me hunt.”
“Because you were being a dumb-ass.”
“Yeah, well, I’m over that now,” Adriel states, not even bothering to deny Kayden’s claim.
“Because I’m letting you hunt again,” Kayden counters.
“You’re letting me hunt again because I’m over it.”
A Blake Shelton song starts to play and I hear Matteo say, “I have one word for you. Headphones.”
“I have three words,” Carlo interjects. “Shut the fuck up.”
“That’s four,” Matteo says, laughing. “Good thing you aren’t in charge.”
I grin and at this point I’m dying to know what they’re doing in there, especially since Kayden never lets anyone into this tower. Stepping to the doorway of the would-be studio, I’m shocked to find the men installing a new floor. Kayden is kneeling by the far wall, nailing a rail down the center. My heart squeezes with the knowledge that he is behind this, but that they are all willingly helping.
“Hi,” I say, and everyone’s attention jerks up to me, putting me in the center of a circle of fierce male speculation, and random greetings.
Kayden stands and walks over to me, leaning down to kiss me. “Morning, sweetheart.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” I glance around. “All of you. Thank you so much.”
Kayden urges me out into the gym area and pulls me to him. “How are you?”
I wrap my arms around him, tilting my chin up. The pale blue T-shirt he’s wearing is a perfect match for his eyes. “How can I not be good right now? Thank you.”
He brushes the hair from my eyes. “Anything to make this home for you, Ella.”
My heart squeezes all over again, both from his meaning and the idea that somewhere, someplace, I do have another place