Jean-Luc had told her he wanted her to feel welcome, and she did.
More than she’d ever imagined she could.
Lianna may have been denied this side of her family, kept from meeting them her entire life, but she’d never expected to click with them so easily. She wasn’t just trying to get to know them better, she actually liked them. Her cousins were funny, smart, and nothing like the rich kids she’d known back home. And, despite everything David believed about Jean-Luc, the man had already treated her with more kindness than her father ever had. He didn’t treat her like she was different, like some cast-off from the family he’d picked up abroad — even though that’s exactly what she was. No, he treated her like family. Jean-Luc had his own history, his own story to tell, and while he wasn’t perfect… no one really was.
And he’s changing things.
As she took in the grassy space beneath the terrace, a warm, buzzy feeling ran through her when she watched everyone playing, shouting insults at each other in a mix of English and French. Rémi was chasing the soccer ball, knocking into Mathieu to dribble it past him before passing it to Anaelle who narrowly avoided Marc’s son, Gregory, to score a goal. Clapping, Lianna cheered for them, and Anaelle pumped her fist in the air, laughing as she waved up at her.
Cécile and Jean-Luc were standing off to the side, his arm around her waist, and they looked like the perfect family. Everything about them seemed to be so wholesome, so full of love. He’d told her that he was moving the family away from the darker side of their business, pulling away from their criminal side, and she actually believed him now. There was no faking the way he looked at his family, the way he loved them, cared for them. It was obvious in the photos they’d given her, but seeing it in person was completely different. It was a different kind of family love than she’d ever known. Powerful, earth-shattering, and she wanted to be a part of it. She wanted to have stories with them years from now, to know an inside joke before it was explained.
She wanted to feel less alone in the world.
Swallowing down the sudden swell of emotion in her chest, she headed down the stairs at the edge of the terrace, prepared to rejoin the game, but Natalie’s shout distracted her. “Marc! There you are!”
The woman started walking toward him, but when Jean-Luc broke away from Cécile to approach his brother, Natalie stopped short, returning Jean-Luc’s wave before she faced the impromptu soccer game once more. Lianna couldn’t look away though, everything about their body language was too stiff, almost angry.
Is this about lunch?
Too far away to hear, Lianna could only judge the intense conversation based on their movements, but she felt pretty confident that Jean-Luc was still upset with Marc for missing the big family lunch. He’d stepped out of the room several times to call his brother, and Natalie had texted the man several times, yet lunch had been over for almost half an hour, and he was only just arriving. Unease crept into her stomach, twisting around the food that suddenly felt too heavy as Jean-Luc jerked an arm to the side and Marc crossed his arms, leaning back on his heels.
That gesture... there was something about that gesture. Like a word on the tip of her tongue, she tried to figure out why it made her feel sick and uncomfortable. Then the memory hit her hard, like someone had popped a movie into her brain and clicked play without warning.
She’d come upstairs to the penthouse one afternoon, wanting to swap her shoes for ones that were a little more comfortable, but when she went inside, she’d heard men’s voices coming from her father’s office. Confused, she inched toward the doorway, but her father had stepped out before she got too close.
“What are you doing up here, princess?” he’d asked, smiling at her, but before she could even answer, another man stepped out from behind him.
“Who’s this?” Lianna asked, and the flash of irritation on her dad’s face just made her more concerned, but he recovered quickly and introduced him as... something. That part of the memory was fuzzy, but she remembered the way the man stood there with his arms crossed, his brows pulled together as he looked her over in silence. Not even offering his hand to her as an introduction.
After that, she knew her dad had pressed her on why she’d come upstairs in the middle of the afternoon, and when she’d explained the shoes, he’d hugged her and then sent her on her way so he could continue his meeting.
With Marc Faure.
She didn’t have a single doubt in her mind that the man from her memory was Marc, no matter what bullshit name her father had made up for him. Marc Faure had been in her home, had met her face to face only a few years ago, and lied about it.
Anger flooded her veins, and she turned away from them, searching out David by the trees where she’d left him. Trying to maintain her composure, she did her best to walk calmly over to him, but she could tell he was already on edge by the time she got close enough for him to whisper, “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t pull that shit with me, Lianna. What happened?” David’s voice was gruff, protective, and she knew that the only way he’d calm down was if she answered.
“I remembered where I recognized Marc from,” she replied, keeping her voice low so that no one could overhear them.
“And?” he prompted.
“He was at my father’s penthouse a few years ago. They were meeting in his office, and I ran into them when I went upstairs to change my shoes. It was during the workday, and he obviously didn’t expect me to find them.” A bitter laugh bubbled up in her chest as she shook her head. “He gave him some other name. My uncle was standing five feet away from me, and my father wouldn’t even tell me who he really was, and now they’re all lying about it. Pretending not to recognize me? There’s no way in hell Marc didn’t know who I was. I look exactly the same.”
“I knew there was something wrong with Marc. The way he’s been acting, and not showing up for lunch today?” David growled. “He’s trying to avoid you so you don’t realize they’re all a bunch of fucking liars.”
“You don’t know—”
“Are you really going to keep defending them now? You know they’ve been lying to you, Lianna!” He was being too loud, and she gritted her teeth, trying to stay calm and look calm and happy and like everything was perfectly okay, because the last thing she needed was to get caught in an argument in front of everyone.
“Just drop it, David. I shouldn’t have even told you.”
“Bullshit. This is what I’ve been trying to tell you, angel. They don’t have any respect for the truth, and this whole show is just—”
“Stop it!” she hissed, taking a deep breath as she looked up at the sky, trying to find some peace in the serene, cornflower blue. “I mean it, David. Drop it right now. I’m not talking about this out here.”
“Lianna.” He tried to grab her arm as she walked toward the soccer game, but she avoided it, knowing he wouldn’t risk causing a scene in front of everyone. It was her own fault, though. She never should have mentioned it to him. Or, at the very least, she should have waited until they were alone.
Silently praying that he would let it go, Lianna waved at Mathieu and rejoined his team. “I’m back in!”
“Now you’re toast!” Mathieu shouted, passing her the ball, and she kicked it down their invented field toward Madeline.
An hour later everyone was sufficiently worn out, drinking water in one of the smaller sitting rooms that were flooded with light. Lianna was browsing the pair of bookshelves tucked near one of the windows overlooking the garden, when she saw Marc and Natalie talking in the hall. She looked irritated, but Marc continued speaking insistently until she eventually nodded. A moment later she came back into the room with a smile.
“I’m really sorry, but we need to head back home.”
“You’re leaving already?” Cécile asked, glancing at Jean-Luc, who was stone-faced for a moment before he summoned a polite expression.
“Marc has some work he wants to finis
h at home, and—”
“What work is that?” Jean-Luc stood, moving closer as Marc took his place beside Natalie.
“I’m still reviewing last month’s shipping manifests,” Marc answered casually, but she didn’t believe it, and it seemed like Jean-Luc didn’t either. The man shook his head a little before looking up at his brother again.
“I do hope you’ll come back before Lianna leaves.”
“Of course.” Nodding, Marc gestured to his children. “Gregory, Madeline?”
“I’m sorry that we’re leaving so quickly.” Natalie’s apology was to Cécile, and the two women embraced as her cousins said goodbye to the others. Lianna met them halfway when they turned toward her, exchanging brief hugs and cheek kisses before they moved toward their parents.
Lianna approached her aunt and uncle, doing her best to make eye contact with Marc, but he avoided it carefully. Still, she spoke directly to him when she said, “I hope to see all of you again before we head home.”
“Absolutely,” Natalie assured her, and then Marc finally looked at her, offering a short nod of agreement. His smile was a stiff mask, and she wondered how many times her father had worn the same one, but she’d just been too damn naïve to see through it.
After they left, the easy conversation of the room struggled to return. Apparently Lianna wasn’t the only one bothered by Marc’s behavior, and the reaction of the rest of the Faures told her how unusual it was. Jean-Luc’s and Marc’s families lived close to each other, the cousins had grown up together, and she was sure that they normally spent hours together when they visited. Hell, she felt confident that they slept at the house sometimes — the estate had plenty of rooms for it.
Her presence was the only difference.
All she’d wanted from her family was honesty, and it seemed that was too high a price.
Lianna’s irritation cooled throughout the rest of the afternoon and evening, and by the time everyone was gathered in the comfortable living room after dinner, she’d mostly forgotten her frustration. Mathieu had put on a movie for everyone to watch, but no one was paying attention to it. Spread out around the room, people were having different conversations, enjoying after-dinner drinks, and eventually Mathieu gave up on the movie, sitting on the couch across from her between Anaelle and Emilie.
They’d been talking about Paris, the positives and the negatives of the popular city, when Anaelle suddenly leaned forward and everyone looked at her. “I really love having you here, Lianna. Are you sure you can’t stay for longer? Just a couple of weeks, or even longer if you want.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Well, you have to come back for Christmas at least. Please? I feel like we’ve got an entire lifetime to catch up on, and I know I’m not the only one that feels that way.” Anaelle nudged Mathieu, and he nodded.
“Definitely, you should come back.” Lifting a hand, he gestured at David who was sulking to her right. “Both of you.”
“It would be great,” Emilie agreed, nodding with a big grin, but David’s rough huff made Lianna want to smack him.
“I promise we’ll think about it.”
“Your French is excellent, Lianna. I don’t think you’d have any trouble living here if you wanted to try it,” Anaelle pressed, leaning forward. “It would be an adjustment for sure, but I know Papa mentioned that you had looked at a job with Sotheby’s in Leon?”
“Yeah, I’m sure they’d still have a space for you if you wanted it,” Mathieu said, tilting his bourbon side to side. “Why didn’t you go for it before? You’ve got that art history degree.”
Lianna lifted her wine glass, taking a hearty drink as she stalled for time. The real reason was that David had kidnapped her the same night she’d received the email from Leon, but that wasn’t exactly an appropriate answer. Plastering a smile on her face, she shrugged a shoulder. “It just wasn’t the right time.”
“Papa could absolutely get you in with Sotheby’s if you wanted it, Lianna. Then you’d be so close!” Anaelle was trying to be encouraging, supportive, and she appreciated it, but there was so much more at play than she could ever explain to them.
“I don’t know. It would be amazing for sure,” she agreed, keeping her voice upbeat so she wouldn’t sound ungrateful. “I’ll definitely think about it. Okay?”
“Oh, all right. We’ll stop pestering you about it... for tonight.” Laughing, Anaelle stood up to get more wine, and Lianna let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“Emilie, what were you saying earlier about working on dress designs?” Lianna asked, trying desperately to change the subject, and it worked. Emilie’s eyes lit up, and she scooted forward to the edge of the couch to set down her drink.
“Yes! I’ve been working on it for a while now, and I love being able to use digital drafting programs. I got an iPad, and it’s amazing,” she began, and Lianna glanced at David, hating how far he’d withdrawn from everyone. They’d been so close to making this work earlier in the day, and with one stupid comment out of her mouth she’d ruined it. He hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words since she’d told him about Marc, and she knew everyone could tell something was wrong.
Please, David. Just let it go.
Eleven
David
Of course Lianna wanted to move to France.
She hadn’t said it straight out, but that was only because he was sitting two feet away from her. If he’d been in another room, or upstairs, he was sure she would have gushed about how great it would be to take this job with Sotheby’s and move to France to live happily ever after with these assholes.
But it wasn’t like he was surprised, not really.
The Faure family could give her everything she’d ever wanted in life. Her dream job working with art, a beautiful life where she’d want for nothing, and... what could he offer her?
Jack shit.
Living in New York with him was a life of him basically living off her inheritance like some kind of pathetic leech. He worked, yeah, but he didn’t make near enough to cover the kind of life Lianna Mercier was used to. He could buy groceries, cook for her, and fuck her — that was it. What else did he actually bring to the table? A fucked-up history, all the reminders of every terrible thing he did to her?
Clenching his jaw so tight he could feel his teeth creaking, David pushed off the couch and walked directly to the wet bar in the corner. The only advantage to this fucking house was their liquor collection. All top shelf, all expensive, and he was going to get his money’s worth before they took her away from him. Dropping a single ice cube into the glass, he almost filled it to the rim with some fancy looking rum. He tilted the glass back, drinking it down to a more reasonable level before he turned toward the couch.
The warm buzz in his brain was small comfort as he listened to Lianna laugh, talking to her cousins like they were her new best friends. He’d tried to explain that they would try to replace him, that they would do everything they could to keep her in France, and he was right — Lianna just couldn’t see it. She was blinded by the fancy house, the pretty lies, the wholesome family bullshit that the Faures seemed so committed to portraying every minute of the goddamn day.
Hell, the only asshole that was even partially showing his true face was Marc Faure.
“David?” Lianna nudged him, and he looked over at her, noting the strained smile on her face as she tilted her head toward the opposite couch. “Mathieu was talking to you.”
Looking up at the kid, he tried not to be a complete jackass. “What did you say?”
“I was just asking if you’d be open to coming back around Christmas. Maybe stay through New Year’s? There’s a badass fireworks display down in Nice and—”
“Yeah, right.” David couldn’t bite back the scoff, shaking his head as he took another long swallow of the rum, barely tasting the flavor of it anymore.
“David,” Lianna whispered through clenched teeth, and he brushed off her hand when she tried to grab his
arm. “Apologize.”
There was a lot he wanted to say, but one glance at the wide-eyed stares of her cousins across from him made him bite it back. Lianna just couldn’t let it go, though.
She grabbed onto his arm, tighter this time, and leaned close so she could keep her voice down. “Say you’re sorry, and stop being an asshole.”
“Fuck this, I’m going to bed,” he grumbled, loud enough for them to hear, and when he stood up from the couch, she let go of him. Ignoring everyone’s shocked, polite society faces, he stalked out of the living room, heading upstairs. If Lianna wanted to play Faure heiress, she could do that without rubbing it in his fucking face. He didn’t need pity invites from her cousins. There was no way in hell he was ever coming back here.
Slamming the door to their room, he sat down in the chair and put his drink on the little table to the side so he could take his shoes off. He’d only just picked his drink back up when Lianna opened the door and shut it much more quietly, but her rage was rolling off her in waves. It was almost like he could see it pulsing around her, and it made him laugh as he took a sip of the rum.
“How could you embarrass me like that?” she snapped, keeping her voice quiet, but the flush in her cheeks told him more than he needed about just how pissed she was.
Waving his drink toward her, he didn’t even bother looking at her. “Oh, don’t let me interrupt your family reunion. Feel free to go back downstairs.”
“What the fuck is your problem, David?”
“My problem?” He chuckled, all the bitterness welling up inside him as he stood, gesturing around the ridiculously appointed guest room that someone probably hadn’t seen the inside of in years. “What’s your problem? Is this what you need to make you happy? All this money? This shit?”
Redemption Page 10