A Wicked Song (Brilliance Trilogy 2)

I hit decline and thirty seconds later, my cell starts to ring again. I hit decline again, but I’m not turning my phone off. Not when Gio could call. I know it’s wishful thinking, of course. I know it’s time I face that fact and really do something about his absence, but not today. Today, I cling to hope. Today, that hope includes me willing Gio to call me. I silence the ringer on my cell. In turn, my phone buzzes with a text message: Steven just called and told me you cut yourself. I’m on my way to meet you at the hospital. Answer, baby. I’m worried about you.

I read that endearment with a twist of my gut and hear, “Baby.”

I’m not his baby or his fool anymore.

Unbidden, tears spill down my cheeks. I was falling in love with him. I was falling hard and as much as I’ve told myself “alone” worked for me, right now, alone feels pretty horrible. And I don’t know what to do. Suddenly, I need to be both on the offensive and defensive. If Kace was after the formula for the Stradivarius—and obviously he was, or rather is—am I in danger? I think I might need to pack a bag and at least go to a hotel for a few nights while I think this through.

The cab halts and we’re now idling in stand-still traffic. This doesn’t work. I can’t just sit here and bleed. I have to wrap my hand properly and decide if some sort of medical attention is mandatory. A few years back when Gio cut his hand on broken glass, he bled like a stuck pig, but he didn’t need stitches. He was fine. I might be fine. I hope I’m fine. I yank my emergency cash from my purse, cash my mother taught me to keep at all times, and toss a twenty over the seat before opening the door. Once I’m on the street, the fact that I do not have a coat is bitingly clear. It’s cold, like really cold, as it always seems to be at Halloween, which is now only days away. I scratch the idea of walking and hurry to the subway, ignoring all the stares at my bloody towel. The shock is wearing off and my brain is working, and so too, it seems, are my pain receptors. A throb is becoming real pain, but I have the mental fortitude to think of tetanus. I don’t remember the last time I had a shot. I clearly have to go to the doctor.

Once my ride is over, and I’m street level again, it’s a short but bitterly cold walk and then I’m at my place. I dig for my keys, but my one free hand is freezing. I finally catch them in my fingers but drop them. And my god, I’m losing my mind. I can just plug in the security code and open the door. Flustered, I kneel and gasp as a man kneels in front of me. I blink Alexander into view, his timing uncanny and uncomfortable.

“What are you doing here?” I sound snappy. I just can’t help it.

“Apparently playing hero,” he says, catching my arm and staring at the bloody towel. “What the hell happened to your hand?”

“I cut it on a piece of wood. I’m assuming I need to get stitches.”

“I don’t have to look at it to know, that yeah, based on the amount of blood, you need stitches. There’s a minor emergency a few blocks over. Let’s go there now.”

“No, I—”

He pulls me to my feet, causing a dizzying rush that’s momentarily blinding. “You’re gushing blood,” he insists. “I don’t know why you’re standing here right now when you need to get medical attention.” He snakes his key from his pocket. “I’m in the delivery zone. I saw you walking and pulled over to catch you. Just come with me. I’ll get you where you need to go.”

“Alexander, no, I—”

“You need a doctor,” he insists. “My help comes with no obligation, Aria. Contrary to anything Kace August has told you, I’m not that kind of an asshole.”

“I don’t have it in me right now for whatever war you’re fighting with Kace.”

His lips press together. “Let me help you,” he prods softly. He dangles his keys. “Let’s go get you fixed up.”

He says this help comes with no agenda, but we both know it does. I don’t want to go with him, but my head spins and my towel is drenched. Logic and good sense must prevail—thus I say, “Yes. Thank you.”

His broad shoulders beneath his ridiculously expensive suit relax slightly. “This way.” He steps to the side to allow my progress forward, his hand settling at my back. I’m aware of his hand but not because I’m aware of him. It’s the opposite. I’m aware of how little he affects me, and of how intensely Kace affects me. Our connection felt real but I’m not sure if that matters or tells me anything at all. I’m not sure anything will until later when I’m alone.