Stepbrother Thief(99)

This time, I can't deny that it's a date.

“Just breathe,” I mutter, pushing open my bedroom door and stepping out with my shoulders back, my clutch held loosely in one hand. Gill's not waiting for me, but Solène is. She smiles shyly at me and tucks some dark hair behind her ear.

“You look positively chic, Maman,” she says, and the sound of my new title sends a thrill through me. I smile at her as she crosses her arms over her chest and leans back, examining me from head to toe. “You know how to dress a woman's figure,” she says in that soft French accent of hers. “I can see you going places, you know.”

“Maybe,” I say, moving around the bannister and pausing in front of her. “But I know for sure that you are.”

“Ah,” Solène says, snapping her fingers like she's just thought of something. “Wait one moment for me, will you?” She turns in a flutter of pink skirts and disappears into her room, re-emerging with a black notebook that I haven't seen in years. “I meant to bring this along when we first left, but I couldn't find it anywhere. Thank goodness mon Père had the sense to ship it over.” She hands the book to me and shakes it.

I reach out slowly, my fingers curling around the spine.

“Where did you get this?” I ask, opening the book and letting the pages flutter as I stare down at my sketches. Dresses, jackets, and jumpsuits stare back up at me.

“Everybody needs a dream, Maman,” Solène says, tucking her small hands into the pockets of her dress. “Let this be yours.” I feel my lips twitching as I glance up at my nine-almost-ten year old daughter. She's by far the wiser of the two of us.

“The Seattle fashion scene isn't quite like the one in Paris,” I say, tapping at a black jumpsuit with my fingernail. I haven't thought about designing in a long, long time. It's not an easy industry to break into and chasing a far off dream like that takes strength and dedication, two things that I've been lacking for quite some time. But with this money from the heist … I could actually devote my time and energy to this.

“It's not about the destination, but the journey. If you'd already arrived where you were meant to be, then how would you ever enjoy the ride to get there?” Solène reaches out a hand for the drawing book back. “I've been using these for inspiration, so if you don't mind …”

“Oh, of course,” I say, leaning down, my diamond earring swinging with the motion. My daughter and I exchange a pair of cheek kisses before I stand back up. “Ciao, ma belle fille,” I say with a little wave before starting down the stairs.

“Au revoir, ma magnifique et talentueuse Maman,” she says, leaning over the railing and looking down at me with a grin. “And good luck.”

“Good luck with what?” Gill asks from the bottom of the stairs, his brows raised and his eyes taking in my entire body from head to toe. A thrill flushes through me, heats my blood and makes my pulse thunder. I know I look good, and I know Gill's fully aware of it. I think he's also aware of my own stare that starts at his face, at his dark hair and blue eyes, and travels over the suit he's wearing. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and he's not wearing a tie, but he's still dressed up—sexy but casual. What the suit can't hide is the ripple of muscles in Gill's back and shoulders, the strength of that blue-eyed gaze or any of the passion that's resting behind it.

I step down off the last stair and look him straight in the face. In four inch heels, he's only a tad taller than me, so it makes eye contact easy.

“With you,” I tell him, not bothering to hide the questions in my eyes. Solène might not know exactly what's going on here, but she can sense my emotions. Smart cookie, that one, all the best parts of Gill and me. “She's wishing me luck with you.”

“You're going to need it,” Cliff shouts out from the kitchen as I raise my brows and Gill smiles wryly.

“No bad guys tonight?” I ask and he shakes his head, dark hair shiny and gleaming, fresh from a wash.

“I'd like to say no, but who knows? Did you come prepared this time?” The smirk on his face makes me grit my teeth. Yes, I have some baby wipes, a tampon, even a pair of clean panties in my clutch, but he doesn't need to know that. It might be overkill, but you never know with Gilleon.

“I have extra Chapstick and my phone charger if that's what you're asking.” I smile and lift my clutch up, giving it a little shake. “Thank God for extra large clutches, eh?”

“Praise the Fashion Gods,” Gill says, reaching up to pull my coat off the rack. He raises an eyebrow in question, but I don't bat an eye as I let him help me into it. If I'm going to try this, then I'm going all out. But I'll decide that for sure after I get my answers, I think, knowing deep in my heart that they don't really matter. This, right here, it's all a formality. “Regina Corbair,” Gill says, holding out an arm for me. I take it and let him lead us outside, down the wet steps and across the driveway to tonight's car.