Stepbrother Thief(50)

“I'm not in love with Gill,” I tell her, trying to take the polished, knowledgeable adult route. I reach down and ruffle her dark hair, tucked up in a loose messy bun. “Children shouldn't speak of such matters, you know?” I say, giving her a look that she returns without a hint of shame.

“I simply won't take no for an answer, Regina. You are in love and that is a fact.”

“Who taught you to talk like that?” I ask, knowing full well that it was Cliff. The two of them have been known to curl up in the living room on a Saturday night, sharing a pint of ice cream and watching black and white romance movies like old girlfriends. Believe it or not, they're both gossips, too.

“Papa says I should watch out for you, that you could use a clear head and a bright smile on your side.” Solène opens her drawing book to a black and white sketch, complete with measurements and tiny scribbled notes in French. Since she could pick up a pencil, my daughter's been obsessed with designing outfits. If she had a sewing machine here, I have no doubt that she'd be begging fabric off of Gill or Aveline and spending half her day on that end of the design spectrum. I have a feeling that we've got a future designer in our midst. “Aren't you lucky that you have me as a sister?” she says, and my heart drops a little. I wish I could tell her. I've thought about it a million times, but for some reason, I can't. Perhaps it's cowardice?

“So lucky,” I say as I kneel down and she proceeds to show me her newest designs.

Eventually, I'll tell Solène everything, but I think this family's had just about enough revelations for one day.

I know I have.





This time, when Gill comes out of his room, I'm the one standing there waiting for him.

He doesn't look surprised to see me, dressed in a suit and and a white button-down, the first few buttons undone enough that I can see a bit of the hard perfection of his chest. I imagine that he's dressed up not for me, but so that he can have some plausible way to hide his gun while we're in the restaurant. I have to admit though, Gilleon does clean up nice. The suit jacket and matching black slacks are tailored perfectly, highlighting the strength of his shoulders, the length of his legs, like all good clothing should.

Me, I'm still rocking the V-neck black jumpsuit. We might be going out to dinner, but this is by no means a date.

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation neutral, pleasant, unassuming. I don't give two shits about what happened between us today, my voice lies. I hate that my nipples get hard at just the sight of him. Good thing I slipped on a strapless bra with this baby. Most of my friends forgo undergarments when they wear strappy or low cut tops, but I don't have that luxury. I wouldn't call myself big in the chest, but I've got a nice pair of solid C cups that really hate gravity.

“An Italian place on Post Alley,” Gill says with a slight smile. “I thought we could take a walk afterwards and look at the Gum Wall.”

“Hah,” I say, leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest. “An entire wall covered in used chewing gum. Now that is an attraction worth leaving Paris for. How could Mom have ever thought to steal us away from such a city.” I lift up a hand and smile jokingly, only … mentioning my mom and our shared past doesn't seem all that funny to me. Not to Gill either, I guess, because his face shifts with emotion and he glances away, at Solène's bedroom door. “Though I don't suppose a walk would kill me,” I add, trying to lighten the mood. Gill looks back at me and then steps forward, holding out an arm for me to take.

I decide against it and uncross my arms, tucking my clutch by my side like a shield before moving down the stairs ahead of Gilleon.

“Don't you make such a handsome couple,” Aveline coos from her perch on the back of the living room couch. Her sharp green eyes sparkle as she takes us in. “Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome with Blonde Beautiful and Buxom.”

I ignore her, breezing towards the front door while Gill pauses and narrows his eyes menacingly.

“Aveline,” he begins, but she cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

“I glanced out the back door to make sure you two weren't going to kill each other when I find you balls deep, Gill. I think I have the right to make a couple of well-placed quips.”

“Just don't let it go to your head. You have a job to do tonight,” Gill growls, the sound making me dizzy with desire. Damn it. I glance over my shoulder and find him staring at me again.

“A job that I've been doing perfectly well for weeks. Don't forget, I saved your girlfriend's life once.”

“I'm not his girlfriend,” I say, if only because I feel like somebody has to say it and Gill doesn't seem even remotely interested in balking the falsely descriptive noun.