Stepbrother Thief(45)

If that's the case, what was up with that question last night?

“Yeah, I mean … I can't tell you any details, but he was working with Karl and with us for years. Didn't want to be though. I have no idea what that man held over his head, but it must've been bad for Gill to keep putting up with it.”

“So he was like, a double agent or something?”

“Something like that,” Gill says, appearing in the doorway like a ghost, a slight smile drifting on his lips. “I see you two are getting along?”

“Well, we both hate you, so it makes it easy for us chicks to chat,” Aveline says, smacking her gum and standing up out of the chair. “I'm gonna go do a quick perimeter check, maybe flash my boobs at that nosy neighbor of yours. Every time I walk the property line, she lifts her blinds up and glares at me through the window until I'm done.”

Aveline rolls her eyes as I smile and watch her walk out of the office and disappear down the stairs.

“If you have questions,” Gill begins, but I shake my head, uncrossing my arms from my chest and letting them fall to my sides. I notice Gilleon's gaze follow the movement, his eyes tracing the line of my body beneath the emerald green sheath dress. His look doesn't stop at the hem, dropping down to the bare curves of my calves and pausing at the sexy black pumps on my feet before he raises his face to meet my gaze.

The attention doesn't go unnoticed by either of us, my body warming and my thighs clenching unconsciously. Old habits are hard to break, and Gill is a gorgeous specimen of humanity. Besides that, his smell is overpowering, simple and spicy and sweet. I want nothing more than to get up on my toes, press my breasts into his chest, and kiss the side of his strong neck, breathe in his smell.

“You can ask me anything,” he says and I raise a brow.

“I can ask, but that doesn't mean you'll answer,” I say, brushing some of my hair back and watching him take in my makeup—the dewy eyes, the highlights on my cheekbones, the nude lip. Almost impulsively, I suck in a deep breath.

Sex.

That's what it is that's getting between us, twisting things, making it hard to figure out which end is up.

“I'll try,” he offers with a slight shrug and a gritting of his teeth when the movement pulls at his injury. “I know I'm more close-lipped than I should be.” He forces a more pleasant expression to his face and raises his brows. “Job hazard?” he offers.

“Apparently,” I say as he holds out a hand and I almost, almost, almost decide to take it.

“I know you're probably dying to get out of the house.”

“Are you offering to take me?” I ask as he smiles sadly and drops his hand to his side. We both move towards the door and I watch as he pauses and gestures for me to go first.

“Maybe we could all go out to dinner somewhere tonight? I'll call in some favors and get someone else to watch the house while we're gone. Although we might have to take Aveline.” He grimaces and then pauses as Solène comes skidding around the corner and slams right into him.

“Excusez-moi,” she breathes as Gill reaches down and steadies her with a hand on either shoulder. “So sorry, Gilleon, please excuse me.”

The moment is so innocent, so normal, so unremarkable that I almost don't see it happening.

Gill looks down at Solène and smiles—at first. She gazes right back up at him, completely and utterly unaware that anything significant is happening. Her blue eyes, so like his, sparkle, and her mouth quirks at the corners as she contemplates whatever it is that she's up to today. Dark hair escapes her ponytail and falls across her brow, across the paleness of her skin that's a seemingly perfect mixture of mine and Gill's.

When his eyes widen and his mouth falls at the corners, I know.

He's looking.

“Gilleon,” I say, but it's too late.

“When's your birthday, honey?” he asks, trying to keep his voice calm. The muscles in Gill's arms tighten, the tattoos on his skin stark against the taut flesh. Still, he keeps his grip on our daughter gentle. The truth was only a simple question away.

“C'est le dix-septième avril,” Solène says proudly. “April seventeenth. I'll be ten in only half a year.” With one last grin, she excuses herself and takes off towards her bedroom, leaving me a sweaty, shaking mess in the hallway.

“Gilleon,” I begin again, but he's just standing there, staring at the floor, a tornado of emotion swirling across his face. I'm not going to apologize, no, or make excuses, but I do feel like I need a chance to explain.

“April …” he says, his voice a strangled blur as he takes a step back and leans heavily against the railing. I'm almost afraid he's going to topple backwards and fall right down the stairs. When he does lift his eyes to look at me, there's a panic there, the wild fear of a realization come too late.