A Wicked Song - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,26
hesitation, I dare to type exactly what I feel: I wish I was there, too. I can’t wait to hear you play them. And those violins, while amazing, are not Stradivariuses. They will be worth more once you play them. But then, so is any violin, in my opinion.
Refusing to worry about a reply I don’t expect, not in the middle of his meeting, I set my phone down and take another bite of my pasta. I’m just about to make that two more bites when another message dings. I hit the button and bring another message from Kace into view, another photo, but this one has me gasping and sitting up straighter. This one is a photo of an extremely rare Stradivarius violin.
I don’t even think about what I’m doing. I dial Kace. He answers on the first ring. “Why did I know you’d call before I could call you?”
“Is that the 1685 Le Marquis Doria?” I sound breathless but I can’t help it. I know this violin. My father and I talked about this violin right before he disappeared.
“Long lost and pined for,” he confirms. “Yes, and color me impressed you knew that from one photo.”
“It’s a certain design in the wood,” I say quickly. “Is it right there with you? My God, Kace.”
“It isn’t. My donor said the photo was sent to him with a promise it would soon be auctioned off. Starting bid of ten million.”
I think of the formula, of our belief that it’s hidden inside one of the long-lost instruments. Could it be this instrument? Did my father talk about this one for a reason beyond admiration? A hint of unease overtakes me at the timing of its appearance but I focus on one thing: a mission I need to fulfill.
“Can we see it?”
“I knew you’d want to. I want to. I’m working on it, baby. I promise.”
“Kace,” I hesitate, but only a moment. “There are reasons—there’s—” My throat goes dry. “If I could see it, just see it, I would be so very grateful.”
“I know how important each of the Stradivarius instruments are to you. I’ll make it happen, but I have to go. I should be done in a couple of hours, maybe sooner. You okay?”
“Yes. Good. I’m good. I’m—so many things right now after that photo, actually. I can’t wait to hear about everything.”
“And I can’t wait to tell you. Holy hell, I’ll say it again. What are you doing to me, woman?” He doesn’t give me time to reply. “See you soon, baby.” He disconnects and I shove away my food. Kace, the violin, Gio—it’s a mix of wonderful and scary that I can hardly manage to process. Could the Marquis really be on the grid again? And if so, why now?
My cellphone rings and I grab it to find Crystal’s number on the caller ID. I take a deep breath and shove aside thoughts of the violin to offer a friendly greeting. “Hey, Crystal.”
“Oh my God,” she gushes. “I just heard about your hand from Kace. How are you?”
My takeaway from her question is twofold: her concern and the fact that Kace has been talking about me. I swear the man’s seducing me when he’s not even here.
“I’m better,” I reply. “Thank you for checking on me. Kace took good care of me last night.”
“Kace as a mother hen,” she muses. “Who’d have thunk it?”
I laugh. “And don’t forget the part where I said he was a very good mother hen, at that.”
“I knew he had it in him. And you brought it out in him. I can’t wait to hear the story of all of this. In fact, I was going to call and ask you to lunch tomorrow, but if you’re not up to it, I understand.”
“Of course, I am. I’m working today. I’m fine.”
“Excellent. I have a lead on some wines, and I convinced Mark that you and I could work out a commission. That way we bypass Alexander, who is going to outbid you.”
I’m stunned by her offer. “You did that for me?”
“I did it for both of us.”
“You lose money if he doesn’t outbid me.”
“Maybe,” she concedes, “but there is value to new, expanded partnerships and friendships. And I might have another motive.”
“Motive?” I query.
“I still want you to consider working through Riptide. Don’t say no. We’ll start with some side deals. And friendship. Noon tomorrow? Can we meet here?”
“Noon tomorrow,” I confirm. “And yes. We can meet there. And you are the