I can't help it; I'm in love.
“We can do this, ma belle petite fleur.” I roll my eyes, but a smile takes over my face anyway. Gill's fluent in French since he used to live in Toulouse with his parents as a kid. He spends half his day coming up with stupid pet names for me; he knows that one's my favorite. “Nobody's going to care.”
“So you think,” I say, knowing my mom has a tendency to overreact sometimes. I know it's just because she loves me, but I've got to admit, coming to her to confess my sins is a little daunting.
“We'll never know unless we try,” Gill whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. My heart flutters in my chest and I have to force myself to breathe. Being with Gill … it's like his presence is all I need to stay alive, like food and water and air don't mean a thing. Somehow, over the past few months, I've fallen completely head over heels for him, for his dry humor, his wry smiles, all of that passion and dedication that rests inside his heart.
Gill kisses my head again, and I stand up straight, looking him over in his black hoodie. I keep feeling stupid for noticing, but … Gill's getting muscles from all that working out he does. He's starting to look less like a teen and more like a man.
I swallow hard.
How stupid of a thought is that?
I take a deep breath and tuck my hands inside the front pocket of my dress. It's a cute little blue and white striped number that makes Gill's eyes widen when he sees me wearing it. I like looking nice for him. Hell, I just like looking nice. It feels good, you know? I don't want to be one of those vain bitches at my school or anything, but I want to feel like I can stand up to them, too.
“Let's go,” I say.
Gill and I make our way down the stairs, navigating our new Parisian apartment with ease. Ten weeks in and the transition isn't as bad as I thought it would be, not with Gill by my side. I feel like I could do anything with him, move anywhere. I could pack up right now and scrape together a living in the Australian Outback, on the top of Mount Everest, in the middle of a Louisiana bayou, complete with alligators or crocodiles or whatever it is that lives there.
All I need is him, his love.
My mom and Cliff are sitting at the dining table in the massive open room that makes up our main living area. There are no walls here, just perfectly placed furniture and accessories to designate the spaces. Mom's pretty damn stylish.
“Hey there,” she says, closing the top on her computer and smiling a big, bright wide smile at me and Gill. “I was just about to come looking for you two. Cliff and I thought you guys might be interested in going out to eat?” She raises her blonde brows at me and gestures for us to take a seat at the table. My stepdad's squinting at the screen on his phone, no doubt trolling the internet for the next best place to eat. Both my mom and Gill's dad are crazy obsessed foodies.
“Actually,” I say, my voice warbling as I struggle to pull together the words that are so desperate to escape my chest, “Gill and I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Oh?” Mom asks, leaning back in her chair, her gold Valentino sandals glinting in the bright pendant lights that hang from the vaulted ceilings soaring above us. She fingers the necklace around her throat, the one Dad gave her the year I was born. A diamond pendant hangs off the end of the silver chain, winking at me. “What about?”
I look over at Gill and find him staring right at me, his face stripped bare and full of emotion. His long, dark lashes rest against his cheek as he closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. When he opens them back up, there's a spark in there that I know exists just for me. This thing between us … I know it's more than hopeless teenage affection. I can feel it.
“Elena, Dad,” Gill begins, but I cut him off, desperate to be a part of this. I can't and won't leave Gilleon to fight for us alone.
“Mom, Gill and I are in love.”
The words break in the open air like fireworks and even though I should still be scared, worried about my mom's reaction, I feel a sudden rush of relief.
She blinks at us for a moment and then, like the sound of ringing church bells, a laugh escapes her slender throat.
“Oh, Regi,” she says, and I clench my fists at my sides, thinking she's going to patronize me, belittle my feelings. “It took Cliff and me about two weeks to see you two were crushing on each other.”
I blink back at her in surprise, the room and its tastefully exposed brick walls, white couches, perfectly placed bunches of flowers, all of it spinning around me. Gill reaches down and takes my hand, curling his long fingers around my own.
“You're not … mad?” I ask, looking over at Cliff and his gentle smile, the dark goatee around his mouth that my mom finds so attractive. “But he's my stepbrother. That's weird, isn't it?”
“Hey,” Gill murmurs, looking at me with a crooked smile taking over his lips, “don't argue a battle we already seem to have won.”
“I suppose it's not entirely conventional, but you won't find me fighting for convention even under the best of circumstances.” My mom rises to her feet, reaching out and inviting me into a rose scented hug, her perfume blooming around me as she pulls me against her. “I don't care who you date so long as they treat you right.” She gives Gill a look over my head. “And I know Gilleon's a good man, aren't you Gilleon?”
“I'd hope so,” Cliff says from behind us. “Considering the genetic blessing my genes gave him at birth.”
“You're hilarious, Dad,” Gill says, rolling his eyes as I look back at him. Holy crap. Is this all really going to work out so easily? I mean, isn't life supposed to suck? What's that phrase? Life's a bitch and then you die?
“You two can date provided, of course, that the normal rules are followed. No sleeping in each other's rooms, no locking the door when you're in a room alone, and no sneaking out of the house. If you need something, please ask. I try to be reasonable.”
I wipe a sudden rush of tears from my face. I have no idea where they're coming from, but there they are anyway.
“I thought you were going to freak,” I laugh and my mom joins in as I pull away and reach down to take Gill's hand again. His skin is warm against mine, the feeling traveling straight through my veins to my heart. I feel like it's trying to beat in time with his.
My mom tucks some honey blonde hair behind an ear and smiles at me again.
“Freak-outs should be saved for drugs, crime, and violence. As long as you're safe and happy, that's all that matters to me.”
“I love you, Mom,” I say, the words falling out before I can stop them. I blush and look away as Gill grins at me. “When you're being cool, I mean. Only then.”
“Of course,” she says, reaching out to pinch my cheek as I bat her away, “only when I'm being cool.”
Six months later and she was dead.
I step out of the dressing room in some designer denim, the fabric kissing my skin like a pair of old lovers reunited. I run my fingers down my thighs and try to push the analogy away. A second chance romance is the last thing I want to be thinking about right now.
I move over to one of the benches that face the dressing room and sit down, a box of shoes at my feet and a new Milly tee on that says I'm not bossy, I'm the boss. It's all good and paid for, courtesy of Gilleon, and a prepaid debit card that Aveline produced from her back pocket. I convinced the girls behind the counter to cut off all the tags for me and let me use one of the dressing rooms to change my clothes. I've got on new panties (thank God), a new bra, and now I'm going to slip into some Louboutin red soled ankle boots in black.
“What's next?” I ask, standing up in my new boots and grabbing a quick look at myself in one of the decorative mirrors leaning against the shop's walls. I know how silly it is to be here, doing this, know that I should've just let Aveline go out and grab some clothes from Target for me, but … I don't let myself think about Gill, about what my needing to dress up might have to do with him. Or why he let me go out to shop. Surely, there's some inherent risk in all of th
is? “I feel like I could take on the world.” I smile back at Aveline and she raises her red brows at me.
“Next up, is a trip back to the hotel. One, maybe two more nights there if it's safe, and then onto the next for another night or two. After that, you can move in with Gill.”
I wince and of course, Aveline notices.
“Oh, come on. I know your stepbrother's an asshole, but he's got a great place. Bought it a year or so ago, if I remember right. It's some 1912 remodel with like five bedrooms or something. I was wondering why a single guy needed a house that big, but it all makes sense now.”
A chill travels up my spine and makes me clench my hands into fists at my sides.
Gill's been planning this for a year? The thought shouldn't surprise me, but it does anyway. I mean, I know he's thorough, researches the shit out everything, but … that means for at least a year he's known he was going to come see me, ask me to give up my life, bring me here.
And that whole safe house bit? A bullshit lie. He knew from the start that we'd be living together for at least a little while.
“You alright?” Aveline asks, and I nod, forcing myself to recite some positive self-talk to keep my emotions in order. You can handle this; you can handle anything. In the ocean that is life, this is but a drop. You'll get through this, Regi, and you'll do it looking fabulous.
“Fine,” I say, brushing hair behind my ear and nodding. “Just fine.”
“Alright, let's head out then,” Aveline says, leaving me to carry the two massive bags of clothing—something about keeping her gun arm free or something. I don't mind, lifting them up and following her out the front doors of the shop and down the sidewalk towards the truck.
I'm so lost in thought that when Aveline stops dead in her tracks, I run right into her.
“Are you—” I start to ask, but she's already turning, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me forward. I fall against the pavement with a grunt, the bags landing beside me as I scrape my palms across the cement, drawing blood.
“Stay still,” Aveline growls, reaching under her hoodie and pulling out a gun. I'm too shocked by the sudden turn of events to do anything but lie there as she lifts the weapon up and fires twice. The mid-afternoon crowd around us erupts into screaming panic, feet pounding by as Aveline grabs my arm again. “In the truck,” she snaps as I struggle to stand, leaving the shopping bags behind. As soon as I rise to my feet, I see the broken window in the back of the cab, right where I'd been standing.
I was this close to being ended with a well-placed bullet.
I don't stand around to check it out, scrambling for the passenger side of the truck and finding it unlocked. Aveline climbs in beside me—my bags in her hands—and tosses them into the back seat.
“Gotta be thorough,” she says as she turns the ignition and pushes the truck into the street, careful to avoid the panicked crowd. My eyes feel like they're stuck open, and I can't stop staring at the scuffs on the toes of my new boots. I almost died. I almost just died. Bile rises in my throat and I wrap my fingers around my neck, turning to look at Aveline's pursed lips and her tight fingers wrapped around the wheel. The gun sits silent in her lap. “Can't leave any evidence behind.”
For once, I don't care one bit about the designer clothes.
If I'd have died today, it wouldn't have mattered what I was wearing.
Aveline calls Gill on our way back to the hotel, and he's waiting outside when I get there, standing strangely still in front of the entrance, his eyes like pools of rainwater resting undisturbed. If only there were ripples.
“Are you alright?” he asks me, little emotion lacing his words, like this is a formality and nothing more. His gaze catches on the bloodstains that my palms left on the jeans, resting there for a moment before lifting back to my face.
“I almost got shot in the head,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “What do you think?”
“Who was it?” Gill asks Aveline, his fists curled tight at his sides, apparently done with our conversation. Stupid motherfucker, I think at him, still trying to get my breathing under control. Nothing like that has ever happened to me, not once. I mean, I knew the risks getting into this, but what the fuck? That was no cop, come to arrest me. I was shot at in the middle of a crowd.
“One of Karl's guys, for sure,” Aveline says, brushing some ruby strands from her forehead. “Just one. Like he wasn't really sure we'd be there at all. I think the guy got cocky and thought he'd go for the glory. I don't really think anyone was supposed to be shot today.”
“Take the rental,” Gill says, holding out a key fob. Aveline takes it from him with a nod. “Go switch it out for my car and meet me back here. I'll have you take everyone to my place. There's no point in playing games if Karl already knows we're here.”
“Got it,” Aveline says as she steps back and then gives my shoulder a squeeze for comfort. “Be right back.”
I watch Aveline walk away, her booted footsteps loud against the moist pavement. As I stand there watching her, the clouds shift and the small slice of sunshine that was peeking through disappears. For a moment there, I consider asking Gill about the whole safe house thing, but I can't find it in me to care. I just want Cliff and Solène to be safe.
I turn back to my stepbrother, focusing my gaze on his muscular chest instead of his face. That emptiness is back, that emotionless pit that he's become. I don't know why I almost let one weird moment get to me. Regina. His voice swirls around inside my head until I blink it away.
“Where's Solène?” I ask, wondering if he's noticed. When he'll notice.
“In the room with my dad. They're fine. Everything's going to be fine.” The certainty with which Gill speaks scares me. I know that he'll do whatever he has to to make that statement come true. Tonight, this Karl guy or his men, some of them might die.
“Remember when we first moved to Paris and you let me sleep in your bed?” I ask him, thinking about warm nights cuddled against Gill's black hoodie, the both of us fully clothed under the blankets, some instinctual protection perhaps against the passion that burned so hot between us. “Cliff and Elena left us alone to hit that work function she had.” I swallow hard. I can still remember the gray tulle gown my mother had worn that night, how beautiful she'd looked. “We were just starting to fall asleep when you heard a noise. We went downstairs and found that some guy had forced his way into the apartment and was rifling through stuff. You didn't even blink, didn't stop to think about what you were doing. Gill, you walked right up to him and broke his arm when he tried to take off. That night, you scared me a little bit, even though I knew you were trying to protect me.” The thief had run off after that, and neither Gill nor I had ever told anyone else about it.
I make myself look up at my stepbrother's face, still impassive, still no sign of his feelings—if he even has any.
“Right now, I feel the same way. I believe that you'll take care of everything, but I'm afraid of how you're going to do it.”
I walk past him, careful to keep my arm from touching his, and head towards the stairs.
Gill follows behind me, his footsteps heavy and solid. But he doesn't say anything, not one damn thing.
“This is where you live?” Solène asks, pressing her hands against the car window and gazing up at Gill's four thousand square foot Colonial. She's spent her entire life living in apartments, and I feel a small smile hit my lips when I imagine her actually having a yard of her own to play in. Hey, as much as I love the city, suburbia definitely has its upsides. “It's positively enormous.” She sits back and brushes some hair behind her ear. “J'adore ça, c'est tellement joli.” I love it; it's so pretty.
I stare at the back of my stepbrother's head, trying to keep my cool. The more time I spend around him, the harder it seems to get. I clench the leather seat beneath me in tight fingers.
“What do you think, Regi?” Solène asks, reaching over and poking me in the bloodied jeans. We didn't tell her anything about what happened today—after all
she doesn't even know about the heist. All I said was that I fell and left it at that. I wrap my fingers around hers and give them a quick squeeze.
“It's nice,” I admit begrudgingly, but I can't bring myself to feel anything when I look at the house. “A little large for a single guy though,” I add, unable to keep from picking at Gilleon. He knew we were going to be staying with him, even planned for it by buying some suburban wonderland in Mount freaking Baker. I feel a childish urge to kick the back of his seat come over me but push it back. Fuck him. Yeah, that's right. Fuck you, Gill.
“Is there anyone else living here?” Cliff asks, his face scrunching up as Gill pulls into the driveway and turns off the ignition.
“No.” One word, crisp and curt. Gill hasn't spoken since we left the hotel, leaving the three of us to talk around him, his presence like a dark cloud shadowing our conversation.
“Well, it's beautiful anyway, son. You've done well for yourself.” Cliff reaches over and grips his son's shoulder. I see Gill stiffen, but I can't watch anymore of this, so I climb out and look around the neighborhood, at the mature trees with their red and gold leaves, the perfect lawns and the well-trimmed hedges. Hopefully nobody will try to shoot at me here.
“Come inside,” Gill says from behind me, his breath warm on the back of my neck. When I spin around to glare at him, his face is still a blank mask, his muscles tight with tension. “I don't expect any trouble here, but it never hurts to be safe.”
“Yeah, okay.” I step around him and move towards the front door when I feel his fingers curl around my upper arm. That simple touch is enough to make my knees weak, my head spin. “Let go,” I say, my voice strong, words clear.
“I'm sorry about what happened today. If I'd have thought there was any chance—”
“So you do make mistakes?” I ask, glancing back at him and raising an eyebrow. “Gilleon Marchal isn't as perfect as he pretends to be?”
Stepbrother Thief Page 6