Stepbrother Thief(16)
“It was,” he says, his voice low and dark. I have a feeling most people would shit a brick at the sound of it. But even if he's a stranger, I know him well enough to know that this is Gilleon going into defensive mode. “But some things have come up that I'd hoped wouldn't happen. It doesn't mean the plan isn't going as it should, only that we're on a slightly curvier path than before. The safe house I'd planned for you isn't good enough. I need you closer to me.”
The fine hairs on my neck stand up straight and I suck in an involuntary breath.
“All of you—Dad, Solène.” Gill stops and turns to me, his eyes so intense that I have to look away. Ouch. All of that ice in there, that pain, when does it stop? Why does he have to keep directing it at me? “You'll stay at my place until things blow over.”
My heart stops.
“Your place?” I ask, imagining some small, featureless apartment that Gill probably uses once a year or less. He travels all over the world, that much at least I do know. When I'm having a good day and Cliff doesn't think it'll upset me, he'll toss a tidbit or two about Gill out there, just some general he's in Germany right now, Bavaria actually or something like that. I didn't even know that he had a place in Seattle.
“I know what you're thinking,” he tells me, but I don't really think that he does. “But it won't be like that. You'll have your own room, bathroom, and it'll be nowhere near mine.”
“And now why do you think that'd be a concern of mine?” I ask, even though I feel suddenly light on my feet, like the wind could blow me away at any moment. Live with Gill? I can barely stand to be in the same room as him. Tack onto that Cliff and Solène … What the hell have I gotten myself into?
“Regina,” Gill begins, reaching out a hand, sliding his fingers down the silk arm of my blouse. He's looking right at me, something hovering beneath the surface that he wants to say.
“I guess you won't be around much anyway?” I ask, stepping back, lifting my coffee to my lips just so that my hands have something to do besides shake. I thought watching him ignore me was hard; this is worse.
Overhead, the sky breaks and tiny droplets of rain begin to fall.
“I should get you back inside,” Gill says, turning away towards the parking lot. Whatever thought was drifting behind his eyes, I hope it's gone now—and I really hope it doesn't come back.
Cliff reaches across the table in the restaurant—some trendy little bistro that sits adjacent to the lobby of the hotel—and squeezes my hand. From the corner of my eye, I can see Aveline watching us from her bar stool, an astute and patient bodyguard. I invited her to sit with us, but she said no go, girl and retreated into the background with nothing but a basket of fries and a soda. I guess alcohol's off the menu when you're on duty with Gill.
“How are you holding up?” Cliff asks as Solène peruses the menu with a deep set frown and several well-placed sighs.
“I'm fine,” I say, waving my free hand dismissively. Cliff is like his son; he's way too perceptive for his own good.
“All of this nonsense about staying with Gill and you don't have a single thing to say about it?”
I purse my lips and stare Cliff down, right into those blue eyes of his. They're lighter than Gill's, less saturated, but I can see why my mom found him so handsome back in the day.
“It's been ten years, Cliff,” I grind out, hating that he knows me so well—loving it, too. There's nobody in the world that understands me as well as my stepfather; he's the only person that's privy to all my secrets, to all the pain I felt when Gill left me with an engagement ring on my finger and … so much hurt inside my heart. “After a decade, it doesn't seem to matter so much anymore, does it?”
“Bullshit,” Cliff says, giving my hand one last squeeze and then letting go. Behind her menu, Solène snickers. “I'll be the first to admit, my son is an asshole. For all his skill in navigating the world, he still has a bit of trouble understanding the true human experience.”
I roll my eyes.
“Thanks, Papa. I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. I figured there'd be some snags in the plan.” I sigh and flip open my own menu. “I might've expected issues of a different variety though,” I mumble, my fingers tightening on the plastic. And I might actually have preferred the feds or the CIA or whoever the hell takes on international jewelry thieves. Prison … or living with Gill. I'm not sure which is worse.
“Don't be silly,” Solène says, tossing a big grin across the table at me. Her dark hair is straight, not curled like usual, and she's wearing the same outfit as yesterday. For a moment I just sit there and stare at her, letting the full force of my decisions wash over me. I can't very well complain about any of this when I've dragged her into it. Solène didn't have any choice in the matter; I did. “I know Gill looks kind of scary, but he's nice. And strong. I feel safe when he's around, don't you?”