A Wicked Song - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,48
face. Not much more. I’m still in Kace’s T-shirt when I hurry back to the bedroom and find my suitcase that Kace brought up for me last night, pull out my slippers, and then grab the bag I’d packed in Gio’s office. Sitting on a loveseat next to the patio doors, I open the bag, pull out the letter from Sofia I’d found in Gio’s desk, and read it again. Something about Sofia’s words nags at me and I can’t quite name why. Kace’s violin goes silent and with the letter in hand, I hurry to the door, rushing down the stairs.
I find Kace’s violin, but not Kace.
Certain he’s in the kitchen, I pad up the stairs, and sure enough, Kace is there, fully dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, with his back to me while he pours coffee. Closing the space between us, he turns as I reach the island across from him.
“Morning, gorgeous,” he greets, his blue eyes warm, while my cheeks are warmer with the compliment. “I’d say I hope I didn’t wake you,” he adds, walking to the fridge and opening it, “but we have Savage and Blake here in an hour, plus our lunch with Mark and Crystal.”
My eyes go wide. “An hour? What time is it?”
“Nine. They arrive at ten.” He returns and pours creamer in the cup and then hands it to me. “You were knocked out though, so I let you sleep.” He rounds the island and pulls out two stools for us. “That’s an Italian bean coffee,” he says, indicating the mug as we both sit down, angling toward each other. “You were young when you left, but I thought it might give you a little taste of home.”
My heart swells with his thoughtfulness and he watches me expectantly. I set the letter down and sip the warm, wonderful brew. “It’s perfect. I don’t remember it from home, but now this taste will always make me think of Italy.”
We’re close, our knees touching, his hands settling possessively, warmly on my leg and I can almost feel our bond growing. “One day,” he says, “when all of this is over, I’ll take you home, baby.”
As if my heart wasn’t full enough this morning with this man, he now has it overflowing. “I’d like that very much.”
“Good. It’s a date then, and I have a good feeling about where this meeting takes us today.”
“About the meeting,” I say. “I remembered something that may be important, Kace.”
“Something good I hope?” he asks.
“No. It doesn’t feel good. Not at all. Remember I said that there was a perfume smell in the store when the security system had those hiccups?”
“I do,” he confirms.
“Well, a few months before Gio disappeared, he came home after being gone for three days. He handed me an envelope of cash, a lot of cash.” From there, I recap the entire memory, the person he confronted outside. The reference to “art.” The missing phone. “But here’s the thing,” I say, wrapping up. “He smelled like perfume. The same perfume that I smelled in the store the morning after you stayed. I’m sure of it. I can’t believe I didn’t remember it until now.”
“You think it’s this Sofia person,” he assumes.
“I don’t know what to think, but I believe someone was in the store. I believe it was someone who was with Gio those three days.”
“And they didn’t get what they wanted,” he supplies.
“Exactly. Which is pretty disconcerting. Why are they here, looking for answers here with me, when Gio’s at the heart of all of this? Where is Gio?” I slide the letter to him. “Read that, please.”
He grabs my cup and sips before he glances down. He reads maybe a line at most and sets the cup aside, eyeing me. “I feel like I’m invading his privacy.”
“Yeah me, too, but I still need you to read it.”
He gives a quick nod and starts to read again. I have the letter memorized I’ve read it so many times. In my mind, I repeat Sofia’s words:
When you touch me, I tremble. When I close my eyes and you’re not here, I remember your touch, your hands on my body, your tongue on my skin. And when you kiss me, as silly as it might sound, I melt. I go places with you, do things with you that I never knew I could welcome in my life. But it’s all about you. It’s all about what you make me feel.
I know you