“Karl doesn't need or want government agencies getting involved in his business.”
“Because he employs people like you?” I ask, leaning down and dragging the small silver tray that holds my chocolate cake towards me. “To steal things for him?” I hazard a glance at Gill and see his lips twitch in amusement.
“You were always one smart cookie,” he says without even a hint of sarcasm. “Besides, Karl has resources that some governments can only dream of. He believes that he'll get back what we stole. I think he's excited to finally put a bullet in my head, too.”
A chill tickles my spine as I lift the lid off the cake and pull it onto my lap.
“Why does he want you dead?” I ask casually, hoping Gill's already in the groove and will just answer me straight. He's too smart for that.
“You said if I answered your first question, I could ask whatever I want. Well, I want, Regina.”
I scrape the end off the cake—some fancy triple chocolate something or other—and slide it between my lips. Gill watches me the entire time, tracing my mouth with his eyes, swallowing hard when I pull the fork back out. I knew that blow job was a bad idea, but …
“Have you ever been in love?” he asks as I blink away my surprise and turn slowly to stare at him. “I mean with anyone other than me,” he adds with a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes. I could lie right now, play with him a little, throw him offtrack. But I don't. Why bother? I just promised myself I'd be truthful. Not a lot of good ever comes from lying.
“No.” I take another bite of cake and then set my fork down. “But that's not a very mindless sort of a question, Gill. Ask me what my favorite food is, my favorite song, ask me what your daughter and I do for fun.” I see the anger slide across his face for a moment before he pushes it back.
“If I still know you as well as I think I do, then your favorite food is and always will be cheesecake. And your favorite song … A lot can happen in ten years, but I can't believe you'd let anything kick Queen out of your top spot. Don't Stop Me Now, that's still your groove, isn't it?” He grins, a wickedly impish little grin, one that shaves these last ten years right off of his face. If it wasn't for the rough edge of stubble coming in on his chin, I'd still think he was seventeen.
“I …” All the things he just said are true, so how can I really respond to that?
“And my daughter,” he says, testing the words like they're foreign to him. Hey, they're even foreign to me, so I get it. “I want to know everything about her, Regina. I know it's a little late, but I still want to be a dad if I can.”
“Cliff is her dad, Gilleon.”
“Ah, yes, Cliff,” Gill growls, his voice taking on a rough edge. “Don't you mean Papa?”
“What's that supposed to mean?” I ask, my own defenses sliding into place as anger laces my voice. “Are you angry with him? With me? Because if you are, then you'd best just say something now.”
“I'm not angry with you,” Gill says, but he stands up and grabs his plates, tossing them onto the room service tray with a clink of china. His tense muscles are telling a different story than his words. “I just think my father should've said something to me is all. I can get why you didn't. Why you couldn't.”
“I asked Cliff not to tell you, Gill. You said yourself that knowing wouldn't have changed things, so why does it matter?”
I sit up straight and set the cake on the nightstand. Since Gill found out about Solène, we've been avoiding the issue—mostly by fucking. I don't think that's a great long-term solution.
“It shouldn't,” he says, but even though he's not looking at me, I can tell he's gritting his teeth. “But it does. I see how close you are with my dad, with Solène, and I can't help but wonder how things would've turned out if …” Gill pauses and turns to look at me, running a hand down his face. He's still holding secrets, clinging to them, and I can see why now. He's afraid to tell me. Doesn't bode well for me, does it? “Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm here now, I know now, and I want to be a dad to our daughter.”
“Well, that's something you'll have to earn the right to. I'm still working towards my right,” I say, crossing my legs at the knee and noticing as Gill's eyes travel up from my ankle to the swell of my calf, and towards the creamy expanse of thigh that's exposed under the bunched up legs of my shorts. “Once you get us our money, we'll find a place, and we'll start living a normal life again. If you're able to make some concessions in your work and stick around for a while, you can get to know us all again and we'll see how things go from there.”