A Wicked Song (Brilliance Trilogy 2) - Page 53
His jaw sets hard, the handsome lines of his face drawn tight. “It’s something your father said to me.”
“Right. It was his saying. We just said that.”
The muscle in his jaw tenses. “He told me that I am the daisy in the wind. The only true daisy in the wind. He told me never to forget those words.”
I search his handsome face, now all hard lines and shadows, looking for the answers he’s not giving me. “And you think that’s related to this message?”
“Yes.”
“And it means what to you?”
“I don’t know what it means,” he says. “Not in this moment. Not in this context. I need to think.” He motions Savage forward and I can feel the wall that’s slammed down between us. He’s shut down and I’m more than a little rattled.
“I need more than ‘I need to think,’ Kace,” I say, rejecting his silence with a hard push. “What do you know that I don’t know?”
His steps into me, his touch gentle but firm, palm resting on my hip, his voice low, for my ears only. “Let me process, baby. We’ll talk when we’re alone. When we get home.”
I don’t miss the fact that he’s said when we get home, not when we get to his apartment.
I know enough about Kace August to know that everything he does has a purpose and he does nothing by accident. He’s reminding me that I belong with him and the fact that he feels that need to do this is as unsettling as his silence. I’m back to, what the heck does he know that I don’t know?
Urgency bubbles inside me, and I want to push him, but Savage steps to our side, and while I appreciate his protection, right now he’s just plain, big, and intrusive. Kace places a step between us and hands Savage my phone with the text message on the screen. Savage glances down at it and then glances between us. “What does it mean?”
“It’s something my father used to 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.
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