“Aria,” I correct, feeling Kace’s eye on me because I haven’t actually confirmed my plan to go with him. “And yes,” I add, squeezing Kace’s hand and looking at him. “I’ll be there.”
“Good to know,” he says, softly, a hint of a smile on his lips that melts me right there in my chair before I turn back to Mark. “I didn’t know you’d be there.”
“Now you do,” he says.
“Fabulous that you’re going,” Crystal interjects. “And since Mark didn’t explain, we own a gallery with Chris and Sara in San Francisco. We’ll be holding one of the events there.”
It’s becoming quite clear that the three of them are close friends, but before I can explore that idea, the waiter is already back, urging us to order.
“The pasta is actually worthy of your visit, baby,” Kace says leaning in close. “You’ll approve.”
Worthy of my visit. He’s speaking of my heritage and it’s surreal to actually claim that history. It’s good. Everything with this man is damn good. “Spaghetti and meatballs for me then,” I say, speaking to the waiter.
“We’ll make that two,” Kace chimes in, offering our menus to the waiter.
Once the waiter departs, Mark’s attention lands on me. “Tell me, Aria. How do you know so much about violins?”
“Sounds like someone was wrong about a certain violin,” Kace taunts.
He’s right, of course. Mark was wrong about the violin and he obviously knows. Mark sips his wine and just looks at me. “The violin was a very good knock-off, Aria,” Crystal says. “You actually saved our backsides. Our reputation is everything.”
“How pissed was your buyer?” Kace asks.
“He took the violin, at a discount,” Mark states.
Kace’s lips quirk and he swirls his wine in his glass. “That’s not an answer.”
“He got over it,” Crystal says. “And you, Aria, are the star of the moment. Mark says you have a client who spent time with the Stradivari family in Italy and he taught you to spot fakes?”
“That’s correct,” I say, but the bite of a lie to a new friend is a sharp one.
“Before the family went missing,” Mark interjects dryly. “Which is—lucky.”
“For you,” Kace reminds him. “She saved your ass, remember?”
Mark’s staring at me. “Did you know that the daughter of Alessandro Stradivari, the last living ancestor of Antonio, was named Aria?”
“I did, actually,” I say, having practiced this exact reply with my mother about a thousand times. “My brother is also Gio. Alessandro’s son was Gio.”
“Really?” Crystal says, leaning closer. “How did that happen?”
“My mother’s best friend was a violinist, who died tragically before finding any real fame. She was quite obsessed with Stradivarius. My mother named me and Gio after the family to honor her. I admit to having a bit of an obsession myself with the Stradivari because of the names, which is how I bonded so readily with the client who taught me to validate the instruments.”
“So much so that you did a better job than a woman who makes a living at being an expert,” Mark comments.
He knows, I think, and the truth is, my story might have rolled off my tongue, but it isn’t believable. I suddenly know why my mother said to avoid any connection to our past, which means the violin auction at Riptide. I stand out like a sore thumb.
Mark’s gaze turns to Kace and then flicks toward the bar. “I see Bigfoot’s following you around. Why?”
Kace must anticipate me running because he catches my hand. Never in my life have I hated being “the girl who ran” as much as I do now. That’s not who I want to be. That’s not who I feel like right now, either. That’s not the person who honors my brother, who intended to stand and fight, not just for himself, but for me and our family heritage.
I don’t know what to do about him knowing too much, but I’m not getting up. I’m not running.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Actually, I do know what to do.
Kace bristles beside me, straightens, and I can feel him about to strike, no doubt in my mind to once again save me, but I beat him to the punch. “Savage is here for me,” I say. “My brother’s missing. Kace helped me make the connection with Walker, who is now helping me find Gio. Which brings me to how I came to that auction at Riptide. I found a letter sent to him by a woman that referenced the violin and the auction house. That’s how I ended up taking the risk to expose myself and come to Riptide.”
“Sofia,” Crystal supplies.
“You know her?” I ask anxiously.
“No, sorry,” she says, “but I remember you asking me about her.” She glances at Mark. “Do you know a Sofia?”
“No,” he says, his attention settling on me. “Did Gio do business with Riptide?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “The reference to the violin and Riptide gave me reason to believe they’d at least made contact, but I don’t believe you had a Gio or Sofia on the guest list.”