say,” I offer. “And it means something to Kace. I just don’t know what.”
Savage’s gaze flicks to Kace and whatever he reads there, he decides not to push him. He returns his attention to my phone, screenshots the message, and sends it to I don’t know who. He then dials his own phone and says, “Adrian, we’re coming out.” That’s it. He disconnects.
A few minutes later, we load up in the SUV, us in the back, Savage in the front with Adrian. Kace pulls me close, his hand possessively on my leg, but he’s not looking at me or speaking to anyone. I’m not sure what to with that. Clearly picking up on Kace’s mood, Savage operates outside his normal boisterous style. He doesn’t say a word.
By the time we’re in traffic, Savage is on the phone and I figure out that he’s talking to Blake fairly easily. From there though, I try as I might to pick up details. The conversation feels coded, impossible to understand. Before the call is even over, Kace leans his head back against the seat and shuts his eyes. As much as I want to push him to talk, I know this is not the time or place. With forced restraint, I lower my head and shut my eyes and drift into the past.
I’m eleven, and it’s a few months before my father disappeared before my life was turned upside down. I’ve just finished a violin lesson with him in which I failed horribly and ended up in tears. He’d called me heavy-handed and no matter how hard I tried, I’d failed. It’s just me and him now, alone in a field of daisies, my white lace dress blowing in the wind. He’d placed a bow in my hands and knelt in front of me, and spoke to me in Italian.
“What do you see?”
“The bow. The daisies.”
“We are the bow and the daisies.”
“I don’t understand, Daddy.”
He turns me and has me face the daisies. “Watch the daisies blow in the wind. They are delicate and fierce like our instruments, like our family. They bend but they do not break.” He rotates me again. “Listen, my little angel, and remember this always. When you feel defeated, do not break. Listen to the music in your heart.”
The vehicle halts and my eyes pop open, my head turning toward Kace, only to find him staring at me. His blue eyes are flecked with amber from the afternoon sun but without a clue to where his mind lies. I reach over and press my palm to his face. He leans into the touch, his lashes lowering until he rolls into my palm and presses his lips to the center. The doorman opens his side of the vehicle and while the moment is lost, it’s left me hopeful and eager, for our time alone. We exit the SUV and it’s all I can do to endure the normally enjoyable greetings with the staff.
Savage is right there with us and once the three of us are inside the building elevator, he breaks the silence. “Blake will be here to discuss the situation in half an hour.”
Kace inclines his chin. I, in turn, want to scream my objection at a meeting that delays my chance to have a real one-on-one with Kace. I do not, however, do so, as memories of my father whisper in my ear—a daisy, a Stradivari, is delicate but fierce. We do not scream. I glance down at my ring, a gift from my mother to represent my bond with my father and do so with the realization that she never fully understood its meaning.
We do not hide.
Hiding is not fierce.
Once we're at the front door of Kace’s apartment, he stuns me by pulling me in front of him to indicate the security panel. Obviously, he wants me to open the door. He’s continuing to drive home a point that I belong here. That I belong with him. Any other time, I’d revel in this message. Right now, I just want in the door and to get him alone.
I punch in the code, open the door, and hurry inside, shrugging out of my coat to hang it on the coatrack. Kace and Savage don’t immediately follow, but I can hear Kace’s indiscernible murmurs to Savage before both men enter the apartment. Savage shuts the door and locks up. Kace shrugs out of his coat and hangs it up. It all feels robotic and excruciatingly slow.
That is until