Kace wrote me a song.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I make it two days and most of a night and then, I can’t help myself.
The temptation of Kace August is just too much.
I lay in my bed, in my sexiest cotton pajamas, MacBook in my lap, and google his concert locations, only to discover that he’s now in Germany. My next google has me tabbing through an article on Kace’s event last night. I suck in a sharp breath and sit up straight. There’s a photo of Kace standing with a busty blonde who has her hands all over him. An extremely beautiful busty blonde. And I hate how much that image stabs me right in the heart. I shut my MacBook and set it aside. I was a fool to fall for the song and the Italian seduction. He’s a player, a man with groupies in every country, and most likely a girl at every stop. I’m not the local. I’m not a groupie. I plop down and punch my pillow, but it doesn’t help. I’m embarrassed. I’m hurt. I’ve tunneled into a dark place and it’s really got nothing to do with Kace, and yet, somehow it does. I’m not sure when I fall asleep, but I’m pretty sure I counted ten thousand sheep trying to keep my mind from tormenting me.
When I wake to sunlight and a new day, I firmly set Kace August aside.
I spend the next few days working and working hard. I earn a five-thousand-dollar commission on a lot of Beatles memorabilia I’d been working to acquire for a customer for months. With that goal achieved and money in my account, I find a PI who will work for exactly that down payment. His reviews are good but seem to be heavily weighted by work hunting down cheating spouses. Still, he can do the basics for me. That’s a good start, but I’m smart enough to know that I can’t trust anyone with the full truth of who Gio is and why he could easily be in trouble. I will set up a meeting with the PI if Gio is not at the VIP event. In my mind, that night remains my turning point. If Gio isn’t back by then, he’s in trouble, but logically, I tell myself that anyone who knows who he is won’t want him dead. They need him alive to find the formula for the violin. But if I follow that logic, my father is also alive, which of course can’t be true and I just have to stop going down that rabbit hole.
Gio is not dead.
The end.
With that thought driving my every moment, the days still manage to tick by as slow as molasses, as my mother would have said. Wednesday arrives with me behind the counter, hunting wine for Ed and Alexander. Not that I’ve talked to either. Neither has called and while I’m avoiding that freight train ride into a collision, I need more money. I’ve also identified a couple of bottles each wants that isn’t on the other’s lists.
Come Friday, it’s near closing time when my cellphone rings with a call from Crystal. “Hey you,” I greet. “How are you?”
“Sick,” she says, her voice cracking. “I have some bug. I’ve been sick all week. I just wanted you to know that I’m not ignoring you. We were supposed to have lunch.”
I blink. “You worried about me?”
“I am. Of course, I am. We made plans, but I’m so behind at work I think we’ll have to try that lunch after the auction.”
We chat a bit and when we disconnect, I decide this is for the best. I really do like Crystal and I don’t want her to feel like I’m using her for the violin. I glance at the clock and I’m about to close up the shop when the bell rings and I glance up to find Alexander entering. “I gave up on you calling me,” he announces. “For some reason, I just knew my good looks and charm would win you over.” He expels an exaggerated sigh. “Obviously, I was wrong.”
“I’m aware that you’re good looking,” I say, and he is. Today, he’s absolutely the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome in an expensive blue pin-striped suit that’s fitted to his athletic frame to perfection. “I’m not sure it’s your best quality, though.”
He laughs, a deep laugh some might call sexy, but I’m apparently still lost in Kace August-land, despite Kace August being a complete asshole, because that laugh doesn’t affect me. He saunters over to the opposite side of the counter. “You don’t mind putting me in my place. I like that about you. And for the record, you, Aria, are quite lovely. I’m far more aware of you than I am me.”
“Thank you, Alexander, but we both know you aren’t here to talk about my appearance. Why are you here?”