“With your recent interactions with Ed and Alexander,” Savage says, “we looked into both men.”
I stop walking and face him. “And?”
“Ed mentored Alexander.”
“I knew he worked for him.”
“And Ed got very close to Alexander and his then-fiancée. Suddenly, Ed and the fiancée dumped him. Feels connected.”
“Like Ed and the fiancée got together?” I ask.
“Could be,” Savage says. “Which makes this personal for Alexander. You don’t want in the middle of that kind of personal. I’ve seen how Alexander burns people close to him.”
“You mean Kace.” I hold up my hand. “And no, I wasn’t asking you to tell me. That’s Kace’s story to tell.”
“I wouldn’t have told you anyway. You’re right. That’s Kace’s story to tell.”
A story Kace says he will never be ready to tell me, and more and more that feels like a problem. Not for me but for him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Savage and I end our walk in front of Ed’s building. “Text me when you’re ready to leave,” he says.
“Thank you, Savage.”
“For what?”
“Giving me another reason to trust you,” I say. “I can tell you’re a loyal person and that you truly want to protect Kace.”
“And you, Aria. I’m protecting you. You can trust me.”
“I know,” I say, and the statement feels right and good to a girl who has trusted no one.
I turn and hurry inside the fancy high-rise building. It’s not long until the doorman has approved my entry and I’m upstairs. Ed answers the door and he is, as always, professional and rather regal in his carriage. He’s in dress pants, and a dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to display a surprising amount of colorful ink. There’s a skeleton of all things, and I believe an ace card. His tie is blue to match a few bits of the ink. The tats are a side of Ed I did not expect.
He’s a complicated, powerful man. I’m not sure he’s someone Alexander really wants to go to war with, but that’s none of my business.
Ed leads me back to his preferred meeting spot of his library, rows of books, and heavy mahogany furnishings as our backdrop. We sit in two high back chairs with a table between us. I reach into my Gucci purse and hand him the list of wines.
He glances at the list and his lips do an odd quirk. “It’s a fine list, an enviable list.” He glances up at me. “Have you offered it to Alexander?”
This is a question he’s asked, and I’ve answered. But I answer again. “No. To be frank, Ed, he offered me a large retainer to ensure you get nothing you want. I’m not comfortable being part of that and you were my customer before he ever tried to become my customer.”
“Honor is a hard trait to come by, Aria.” He hands it back to me. “I’m going to pass.”
I blink, surprised, accepting the paper. “Do you mind me asking why?”
“Because if you give me this wine instead of Alexander, he’ll see that as an act of war. It would put him on alert in a way I don’t want him on alert. Step away from this and sell the wine to someone else that isn’t he or I.”
Disappointment stabs at me. I want this payday. I wanted to impress Riptide. I need this payday.
“I do have a proposition for you,” he surprises me by saying, removing a checkbook from his pocket, and then proceeding to write a check before handing it to me. “Sometimes old school paper makes an impact. I believe this is one of those times.”
I accept said old school paper and my lips part at the sixty-thousand-dollar figure. “What is this for?”
“I’d like a unique piece of jewelry for a client. She’s a collector. Something one of a kind.” He glances at my hand. “Something one of kind, like your daisy, Aria.”
I go cold inside, my throat drier than a desert. One of a kind? Like my ring? The room spins a moment but I manage to remain composed? “What does she like? Flowers? Butterflies? Classic jewels?”
“She likes one of a kind. Find her something to blow her away. I have a lot of money riding on this.” It’s hard to think right now, but I manage to remember a jewel on the Riptide list. “I might have something.” I hold up a finger. “Give me a moment.” I tap my phone and it takes a few moments but I produce photos of a stunning emerald bracelet. Presenting him the images, I add, “It belonged to a member of a royal family.” I continue and read him the details of the family.
He slides through the photos and then offers me my phone back. “How much?”
I glance at my listing which reads: The client wants seventy thousand but will settle for sixty. The commission is twenty percent, of which I get forty percent. Six thousand dollars. It’s not much, but it will help with my mortgage. “Seventy-five,” I tell Ed. “It’s been validated by Riptide Auction House and comes with paperwork.”