Selective/Memory: The "Depth of Emotion" Book 2 (The Depth of Emotion) (36 page)

“Aria, answer me,” he commanded, his voice raised and thundering in a tone that made both she and Marisol jump. “In what game was I a victim?”

She opened her mouth, but her mind wouldn’t allow the words to connect with her lips. Knowing that only tears would fall if she tried to explain, she attempted to catch her breath and walk away while she still had her composure.

Taking a step, Declan reached out his large hand, and closed it around her wrist, pulling her to him.

“No, Aria,” he said, his eyes meeting her closer. “You’re not walking away,” he continued, compelling her to speak with the intensity that he radiated. “I heard you! I want an answer.”

He pressed in closer to her.

“Why did you say you still love me?”

Marisol, striving to regain control of the situation, attempted to dismiss Aria. She charged in between them and erupted in anger.

“Get out of here, Aria! Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

Declan and Aria separated and Marisol pushed her, causing her to stumble. Declan moved to assist her, but Marisol blocked his path. Dismissing her with a waving motion, she spoke maliciously.

“That’s it, Aria,” Marisol cackled. “Get out of here…GO!”

Aria ran as quickly as she could—but stopped as she saw Declan’s body crumple to the ground…

Paige’s mouth fell open in shock. “What did you do?” she asked as she picked up her coffee.

“What could I do?” Aria answered. “I ran over to him. Somehow, I reached him before he hit the ground, and I managed to keep his head from hitting the cement.”

She lowered her eyes and shook her head in disbelief.

“I don’t know what I would have done if he had cracked his head on the ground. He just went down so fast…”

Aria’s voice trailed off with the memory of seeing Declan pass out.

“Does he know what caused it? Had it happened before?” Paige asked.

Shaking her head again, Aria answered, looking off in the distance.

“I stayed with him until he became conscious,” she answered. “He said it’s never happened before, and he didn’t know what caused it.”

She paused to take a sip of her drink, hugging the cup with both hands like a security blanket. She was still gazing off, looking at nothing.

“I wanted to call 911,” she said, “but he refused. I tried to convince him, but he just wouldn’t let me.” Her concern was evident to Paige.

“How did he get home?” Paige asked.

“Carter drove him,” Aria said, now turning more of her attention to their surroundings. “He and Blake came outside. Declan was standing at that point, but I told them what happened. I think he was mad at me, Paige, but I didn’t want him driving.”

Paige nodded in agreement. “What about Marisol? Where was she in all of this?”

“Oh! That’s the best part!” Aria threw her hands in the air. “When he was falling down, all she did was move out of the way so he didn’t bump into her! While he was out, I kept calling his name and rubbing his face. She kept saying to me
‘What’s wrong with him? Slap him! People will see him like that!’
And when he came to, She was like,
‘Oh, I was so worried,’ blah…blah…blah.”
Aria rolled her eyes. “She’s such a bitch. I can’t stand her!”

Paige then rolled her eyes. “Did you tell Declan how she acted?”

“No,” Aria replied as she shook her head. “What’s the point? He’s going to see what he wants to see. I’m not going to play that game, which is why I asked you to bring the papers.”

Paige reached into her bag and retrieved a large, manila envelope. She then placed it on the table.

“You know you won’t have any legal ties to him after you do this, right?” she asked.

Aria nodded. “I know, but seeing him go down like that, I just can’t…I mean, he came out of that building and saw me and Marisol going at it…again. What if the stress of that was what caused him to pass out? He’s still recovering, Paige. I love him, but I want to help him, not hurt him. The Studio belongs to him, and it was never mine to keep. I want him to have it.”

Aria opened the envelope and signed the papers. Looking at them one last time, she neatly organized them on the table and placed them back in the folder. She then held the envelope out to her friend.

“If he can’t be with me,” she continued, “at least I know a part of me will always be with him.”

Paige silently retrieved the envelope, placing it in her bag. She knew that this decision was monumental for Aria, and that it cost her dearly, emotionally, to hand over the last thing she had in her possession that tied her to Declan.

“You know, Aria…you weren’t the cause of all of this,” Paige said, attempting to alleviate any of the guilt or burden her friend might be carrying.

Confidently, Aria looked her square in the eye.

“Yeah. You got that right,” she said, surprising Paige. “I know I’m not.”

Paige was confused. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t say anything to Declan, and I won’t say anything else until you swear to me that you won’t—no matter what.”

Paige agreed. “I’m fine with that. I’ve never betrayed your confidence. God knows you have enough of mine!”

Aria took a deep breath and sat back. As the waitress asked them if they’d like a refill on their coffee, they both said yes, and Aria explained what memories had been unlocked through her therapy.

After more than two hours had passed, Paige had listened to her friend tell her all that she remembered about one of the most terrible days of her life. She also assured her that she wouldn’t reveal anything she had been told.

As they prepared to leave, she mentioned that she had to stop back at the office, and remembered that she had something to give to Aria.

“I almost forgot,” she said, reaching into her bag. “A message came to my office from the Vencedor attorney. It seems that somebody left their tools at a property and they want you to pick them up,” she said, handing the message to Aria.

“That’s odd. Most of my guys own their tools. They guard them with their life, but I’ll swing by and get them. I’d feel terrible if someone took them.”

Writing on a notepad, Paige tore off a piece of paper, handing it to Aria.

“This is the combination on the lockbox. There should be one on one of the doors,” she said, handing the paper to her. “I have the same combination on all of my houses, and I always leave at least one until the owner assures me that they are all moved in. I haven’t heard from the owner of this one, so there should be one on the back door, for sure.”

Taking the paper, Aria put it in her pocket.

“I’ll stop there on my way home. I have nothing on the books for the next few days, so I’m taking it easy,” she informed her. “A nice long bath, a good bottle of wine, and watching some movies is all I have planned.”

Paige sighed. “Ahh…sounds great…”

They walked to the parking lot together. Paige opened her car and put her bag in the back seat. She then turned back to Aria to give her a hug.

“You okay?” She heard the concern in her own voice.

“I’m fine,” Aria assured her friend. “I just need to let time work things out
—if
they’re supposed to work out. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

Paige nodded, getting into her car. She watched Aria walk to hers and then drove away.

It should be very interesting to see how Declan reacts to this news
…

Aria listened to relaxing music on her way to the residence. Pulling out the message, she saw the address written in the subject line.

I remember this house! This is the really nice one, right on the water. I loved that place. Gorgeous driveway, beautiful grounds, flat flagstone patio
…
really pretty. I loved listening to the water while I was working. Whoever got this house got a beauty!

Driving down Coastal Highway, she analyzed her motives for signing off on The Studio. She did believe that her heart was in the right place, and she truly wanted Declan to have it—free and clear, without any strings attached. It was his, and she didn’t want him to feel any obligation to her with regard to the business.

Acquiring a building for him; even renovating it, was what she did every day for every client. She had no emotional attachment to them, yet it gave her a great deal of pleasure to deliver to them a product that pleased them. That was the perspective she needed to keep; that The Studio was delivered to Declan as a final product that pleased him. The thought of that made her happy. She’d provided him security. A flood of pleasure rushed in, and, smiling, she admitted that it felt good!

Reaching to turn up the volume, she began to sing, happy that she—Aria Cole—had given Declan Sinclair—Mr. Supermodel—something unique that no one else in the world ever could—the fruition of a dream.

Take that world!

Pulling up in the driveway, she saw a light turned on in the house. Paige said that no one had moved in yet, so maybe it was a lamp on a timer to ward off a would-be thief.

Closing her car door, she left her purse inside. There wasn’t anyone around, and she’d return for it in just a minute.

As she approached the house, she stopped to admire the pretty landscaping. She’d have to complement those guys when she got back to the office. They had done such a nice job!

Noticing the new boxwoods that were planted on each side of the walkway, she ascended the steps.

It looks like they had added a creeping shrub further up the walkway
, she thought as she got closer to the door.

“Pretty. Very Pretty,” she said out loud in admiration as she stepped onto the porch.

Opening the door, she noticed that the lockbox Paige said would be there wasn’t hanging where it should be, but as she touched the handle, the door was slightly open. She pushed on it, barely peeking in. Glancing to the left and right, she saw no one, so she moved it slightly further and saw that the home was furnished.

“Great. Just great,” she whispered, thinking that the occupants would be incensed with someone’s dirty toolbox laying around.

“Hello?” she called, barely raising her voice.

She stopped for a moment to listen for a reply. Not hearing a sound, she moved further inside.

“Hello…”
she repeated a little louder.

Again, nothing.

The last thing Aria planned on being that night was a trespasser. She just wanted to get the tools, get in her car, and go home to a bubble bath that was calling her name.

No one seemed to be here. Maybe if she just looked in the rooms on the first floor she’d see the tools, grab them, and go. Then everyone would be happy!

Thinking that would be a good plan, she started to make her way through the downstairs. Walking through the massive living room, she checked in corners and along the walls for the missing tools—nothing.

Quietly, almost tip-toeing, she went into the family room, making her way around an overstuffed sofa, club chairs, and a bar—again, nothing. Remembering the fireplace, she made her way in that direction, thinking one of the guys might have placed the toolbox in there, out of sight.

When she reached the massive stone structure, she moved the fireplace screen out of the way, thinking she’d found the hiding place, but she was soon filled with disappointment—still, nothing.

Backtracking, she picked up her pace through the living room, knowing that she’d looked all through that room. She walked through the dining room doorway, toward the window, thinking that it must be in this room. She wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. It was making her uneasy to be in someone’s home unattended.

As she passed through the dining room entryway, a sound startled her, and she stopped where she stood.

“Hello?” she whispered.

She didn’t breathe for a few minutes, standing still to see if she could detect the sound of anyone in the house. She breathed a sigh of relief and took another step forward.

“Hello, Aria.”

Her heart collapsed and her throat closed against the scream that raged for escape from her head. The voice was unmistakable.

Spinning startled in its direction, she had barely seconds of complete horrification. Her vision completely splintered as the pipe wrench mutilated and shattered the delicate bones of her face…