Gill unlocks the front door and gestures for me to go ahead of him, casually scanning the street before he closes it behind us.
“Hey,” I say, giving Aveline a little wave that she returns without even looking up from her computer screen. My heels click across the floor as I make my way to the kitchen, finding Solène and Cliff up to their elbows in flour and sugar. My mind clears just a little bit more and I suddenly see things as they could be, as they will be if Gill and I can get past this one last obstacle. It's a bit of a doozy, but I have hope.
“Bonsoir, Maman,” Solène glances over her shoulder and grins at us. “Père.”
“Bonsoir,” I say with a smile, dropping Gill's hand and moving over to kiss either of my daughter's cheeks. Her smile is just as infectious, just as friendly and gracious, as it was when she thought I was her sister. So far, it doesn't feel like anything between us has changed. Maybe, in my own way, I was being a mother all along? I suppose it doesn't matter. I meant what I told Cliff: being a parent is a privilege and I'm still going to do my best to earn it. “What are you two up to?”
“Making lemon bars,” Solène states proudly, pressing the shortbread dough into the bottom of the pan. “Extra tart for Papa and his discerning taste buds.” Cliff laughs and shakes his head, sliding Gill and me a glance that says so many things without words. There's hope there, frustration, fear, disappointment, love—just this crazy mixture of feeling that's going to take a while to sort out. But that's okay. I'm in no rush.
“How was dinner?” he asks, giving me a kiss to either cheek. Gill and Cliff pause for a moment staring at one another before Cliff pats him roughly on one shoulder, turning back to Solène and her dessert prep.
“Good,” I say, glancing at Gill, at those blue eyes that always have and seemingly always will take my breath away. “We worked out a lot of things.” I keep my description vague. These problems that Gill and I are having, these demons from our past, none of them are Cliff's or Solène's issues to deal with. Cliff deserves a peaceful retirement and my daughter deserves a happy childhood.
I take a deep breath and set my purse down on the table, shrugging out of my coat and handing it to Gilleon. He takes it gingerly, our eyes catching, my breath hitching in my chest.
A groan from Solène draws my attention back to her workstation and a pair of raised black brows.
“You two are simply impossible,” she snorts, emphasizing the last word in French. “Like two lovebirds long separated, finally freed from their cages.”
“And what movie did you two watch tonight?” I ask as Cliff grins and opens up a new bag of sugar.
“Breakfast at Tiffany's,” he says, watching Gill watch Solène. I follow my stepfather's gaze and see Gilleon caught at the edge of the kitchen, his coat still on his shoulders, mine draped over his arm. He's watching our daughter intently, sadness and longing mixing with just the smallest sprinkle of hope.
“Of course,” I say with a small smile, moving next to Gill and taking my jacket back. “Because that's the logical choice for a nine year old's movie night.” I wink at Cliff and he grins right back at me. Gill's still staring at the two of them, at this odd example of domestic bliss taking place in his kitchen. Better get used to it because Cliff's obsessed with passing his foodie knowledge down to Solène. “Hey,” I say, snapping him out of it, drawing his attention back to me. I feel a hot flush as those sensuous lips curve into a smile. “Give me your coat.” I nod my head in Solène's direction as she washes her hands in the sink, balancing on a small stool that puts her close to Cliff's height. “Go mix some sugar and lemon juice. Doesn't sound like much, but it's actually kind of fun.”
Gill watches me this time, his gaze taking in every inch of my face, before he finally slips off his coat and suit jacket, removing his gun holsters and laying them on the table.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, eyes half-hooded and still focused on me.
I reach over and grab his arm, the hard bulge of his muscle beneath my fingers forcing me to swallow twice to regain my composure before I can let go. Without another word, I disappear down the hallway and deposit our coats on the rack, catching Aveline's eyes from her place at the dining room table. She gives me a wicked half-grin that I ignore as I sneak back and watch from a distance, watch as the love of my life cautiously approaches our daughter and gets swept into the family like he was always there. She's gracious like that, Solène is.
A smile curves my lips as I watch Gill try to measure out a cup of sugar. Those big hands, those tattoos, all of that strength … it's beautiful to watch him work in a different light.
Fucking Karl.
We'll figure this shit out, me and him, because we're a family—albeit one that took a brief hiatus. But that doesn't matter now, never really did matter. I've loved Gilleon for ten years without a hiccup, despite my best efforts not to, so if I'm going to welcome him back, I'm going to do it with open arms.
Family.
We're a family now and I'll do anything for family.
Dear God.
I'm blushing like a teenager on prom night, my hands clutching my bare upper arms, my black lace nightgown shifting in the gentle rush of air from the heating vent above my head. Quickies are one thing … even making love after a serious emotional discussion is easier than this, this casual normalcy.
Fuck.
Gill's sitting on the edge of my bed—shirtless, mind you—and smiling. Not grinning or smirking, just smiling. Despite our conversation, despite the ugliness in our past, this man, this guy who's six foot four and God only knows how many pounds of muscle, he stood next to his daughter and he baked and he spilled powdered sugar on the floor and he sat next to her on the couch while she showed him all of her designs and drawings. My lips twitch. And some of mine. Solène even came up with a plan for our 'studio' downstairs—complete with artful renditions of us pinning gowns together on a dress form.
It's a dream I don't mind sharing with her. In this house. With this man.
I've made my decision and even though Cliff keeps giving me a slight stink-eye, I'm sticking to it. This is it, the thing I've been waiting for forever.
I swallow hard as Gilleon glances over at me, his dark hair shining under the white moonlight from outside our window.
“Are you sure you want me in here?” he asks, his voice light and playful, the shadows on his face just a product of the light, not even a trace of that inner darkness showing right now. “Because if you want to keep sleeping in separate beds …”
“Don't tease or you might just get your wish,” I tell him, knowing that my next conversations with Anika, Leilani, and the whole gaggle of girlfriends I left behind in France are going to be regarding … this. I'm already so not looking forward to any of them. I quirk an eyebrow. “You should be nicer to me. Do you know how much shit my girlfriends are going to put me through when I tell them we're getting back together? Then it won't be Karl you'll have to worry about coming after your ass, but Katriane and her five inch stiletto heels, sharp as blades.”
Gill grins at me and stands up, his flannel pj pants slung low on his hips, teasing me with rock hard abs and the bright shining eyes of the panther tattoo on his right pec. He even looks badass with the fading remnant of that gunshot wound to his other shoulder. Tough as nails Gilleon Marchal. Holy shit, he's sleeping in my bedroom tonight. Tomorrow night. All of our future nights.
I reach up and run my fingers through my hair.
This is going to work. It's going to work and it's going to be beautiful.
The self-talk calms me down enough that I take a few steps forward, bare feet padding across the hardwood floors.
“Can I ask you a question?” Gill says, tilting his head to the side and regarding me as I pause, a stray shaft of silver moonlight falling across my breasts, drawing his gaze down before it slides back up.
“You can ask, but it doesn't mean I have to answer it,” I say, mimicking him as I cross my arms over my chest and lean back. I smell his scent,
that spicy bergamot oil breeze that clings to his warm skin like cologne. I want to lick it off. But I pretend I don't give a crap.
“Whatever happened to the ring I gave you?” Gill swallows and his jaw clenches tight with old anger, not at me but at Karl. Or Karl's son. Maybe even his own mother.
I glance up and over Gill's shoulder, out the window and down to the dark chasm where the lake should be. The way the moonlight's falling tonight, I can't even see it. Doesn't mean it's not there though.
“Why?” I ask, glancing at Gill's face again. “Because if you ask me to marry you right now, it's a no.” He raises his dark brows at me and I smile. “But you can certainly date me and consider asking again in, oh, I don't know, two years or so?”
“So that's how it's going to be?” he asks, reaching forward and sliding his warm hands around my waist. I gasp at the touch, my thoughts flitting in my skull like butterflies. Goddamn things are back again. My lips part as Gill leans in and breathes hot against my mouth.
“That's how it's going to be,” I whisper back, reaching up to tangle my fingers in his dark hair. My skin feels like it's on fire, pulsing flames dancing across every square inch as I struggle to find my breath, to remember why I was nervous again. Standing here, doing this, everything feels right. For the first time in a long, long time.
“But you still didn't answer my question,” he says, loosening his grip on me and taking a step back. “If it's too painful,” he starts, but I raise a hand and stop him, moving over to my purse and reaching inside to unzip an inner pocket. Tossed in with a handful of change and some earrings that Anika sent me for my last birthday is Gill's engagement ring, the infinity twist that still shines as brightly today as it did back then. I haven't taken very good care of it, no, but I also debated tossing it out the window several times. The fact that it's still with me is an accomplishment to say the least.
I turn back to Gilleon and wait for him to come to me, reaching out my hand and dropping the ring into his palm, curling his fingers around it.
“When the time comes,” I begin, looking up at him with honey brown eyes, taking in his bright blue ones with a confident smile on my face, “and the time will come someday, then use this. Nothing else would feel right.”
Gill nods, reaching up to run his thumb over my lower lip, sliding his fingers down to cup the nape of my neck. Without responding in words, he leans in, pressing a scalding hot kiss to my mouth at the same moment he slips the ring into his pocket.
Our tongues tangle together as he pulls me closer, diving deeper, tasting me like I'm tasting him. Just like the night of our very first kiss, the one we shared as innocent teenagers all those years ago, Gill tastes like lemons. This time, instead of sherbet, it's lemon bars, and instead of a park, we're standing in this beautiful old house, but the love's still the same, the passion.
Time slows for me again, reverses, takes me back and wipes away the pain, the suffering, the loneliness, until all I can feel and taste and hear is Gill and his warmth, his strength, his love.
All I can taste is us.
“Mornin' sunshine,” Aveline drawls as I yawn my way down the back staircase in my stolen hotel robe and a pair of white cashmere-blend slippers. All of these in-depth emotional revelations are taking their toll on me. I'm usually a morning person, but today, eh, I kind of feel like poking the sunrise in its golden eye. That, and Gill is gone. I make myself smile and greet Aveline before I ask about him.
“Bonjour,” I mumble, snatching a mug from the cabinet and removing the coffeepot. Somehow, even after last night's baking storm, there are no dirty dishes in the sink. I doubt Aveline's the domestic type, and I know Cliff and Solène far prefer cooking to cleaning, so … the only person in this house on top of things enough to wash dishes is Gilleon. I stare at the rumbling silver face of the dishwasher and then glance back at Aveline. “A master thief who does dishes?” I ask.
Aveline shrugs, her back to me, red hair braided and hanging between her shoulder blades.
“He even rinses them before he loads it up. Pretty weird, huh? The world is just full of idiosyncrasies.” Aveline runs her fingers over the keys on her laptop, clicking away at the speed of light before she turns to face me with a slight grin curling her lips, braid flopping over her shoulder. “But why don't you ask the question you really want to ask about Gill?”
I raise both my brows and bring my coffee cup to my lips.
“Okay, fine, I'll play along: where did he disappear to this morning?”
“Dunno,” Aveline replies, winking at me and turning back to her computer. “I just wanted to hear you ask.” I roll my eyes and move out of the kitchen and down the hallway, pausing next to the staircase and letting my eyes drift left, into the nearly empty sitting area. Just past that, through the currently closed pocket door is a blank canvas with a whole wall of windows and no discernible purpose. My best guess is that it used to be the original dining room and someone walled it up to add all those extra cabinets in the kitchen. Normally that kind of thing would bother me, but here … I like how it's tucked away but not excluded.
It'd make a great studio.
Before I realize I'm moving, my slippered feet are whispering across the floor and I'm pushing back the pocket door to find gleaming hardwood floors and sunshine streaming through the wall of windows on my right.
“It's yours, if you want it.”
I jump, sloshing coffee onto the floor near my feet, and turn to glare at Gill.
He leans casually against the wall in the sitting room, but the intensity in his gaze betrays his easy stance.
“I thought you'd disappeared on me,” I say just as casually, trying to hide the relief in my voice. I have to trust Gilleon to make this work. Trust. That's going to be a tough one.
Gill notices and his expression softens a bit as he slides his fingertips into the front pockets of his jeans. There's no missing the pair of pistols hanging on either side of that muscular body. As warm, as cozy, as wonderful as this house feels, there's still danger afoot.
“I had a meeting with Max.” Gill stands up straight and tilts his head to the side ever so slightly. “You're beautiful in the morning, you know that?” I reach up and touch the tousled mess that my hair's become. Normally I make a point to clean up before I let anyone see me in the morning, but … I'm not living alone anymore. If my luck holds out, I won't be living alone ever again. Time to let my hair down, so to speak.
“Not a fan of the lipstick?” I ask, reaching up to trace my lips with my free hand. Gill smiles and takes a step forward.
“Definitely a fan of the lipstick,” he says, running his knuckles down my cheek. “And the dresses.” His lips twitch. “Most definitely the heels. But I like this, too. I missed this, all this messy, sleepy perfection.” Gill drops his hand as I raise an eyebrow. Inside, my heart might be pounding a million miles a minute, but I don't have to let the expression show on my face. I might be Regi, but there's still some Regina Corbair in there.
“Nice change of subject,” I say, stepping around him and heading towards the kitchen to grab a paper towel for that coffee splash on the floor; Gill follows closely behind me. “It almost worked. What was your meeting with Max about?”
Gill's lips purse and he exchanges a look with Aveline before heading to the coffeemaker.
“Not good then, I take it?” I ask as I grab a roll of paper towels and tuck them under my arm.
“How would you feel if Aveline and I went out for one last job and left Ewan here with you?” Gill's trying to make the request sound casual when it's anything but. Even the tight curve of his ass under that dark blue denim isn't enough to distract from me from that statement.
“You mean you want to go after Karl? To kill him?” Both Gill and Aveline raise their brows and look over at me. I set my coffee cup down on the counter and raise my hands in surrender. “Look, if I'm being too frank, let me know, but I just want to get things straight here. Is this what you're asking?”
“You nailed it, Princess,” Aveline says, slugging down the rest of her coffee and tossing the mug into the sink with a small wince from Gilleon. Everything's going to be okay, I tell myself, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. When I open them, they're both still staring at me. I consider asking why Aveline would be willing to help Gill out with such a risky job, but … I've kind of gotten the sense that Gilleon isn't the only one trying to wiggle out from under Karl Rousseau's thumb.
“Then what exactly is the plan here?” I ask, refusing to back down. I don't care how top secret this shit is. Gill promised me last night that he'd tell me everything; I'm putting our new relationship to the test right here and now.
Gill exchanges another look with Aveline, but all she does is shrug.
“The only way to fix this,” Gill says, and his voice holds this old, stale sadness that I wish I could whisk away in an instant. He focuses his blue eyes on mine and I have to force myself to take a deep breath. “Is to get rid of Karl.”
“Won't he have, like, a million bodyguards or something?” I hope I don't sound too ignorant, but really, who wants to truly understand how crime syndicates actually work? Not this chick right here. Some things are better left to the professionals. This being one of them. “I don't need all the details.” I take another deep breath and run my hands down the front of my robe. See, if I were dressed, I'd be able to handle this situation better. I feel … vulnerable in my pajamas.
“Karl will have lots of hired guns, yes, but …” Gill glances at Aveline. “Not all of them care whether he lives or dies. Truthfully, some of them would actually prefer him dead. An expired crime boss leaves a vacuum of power that some people might be interested in filling.” Gill takes a step forward and looks down at me, so tall, so handsome, his face a dangerous slice of dark and light. He needs this shit to go away. It's hard to get better when you're constantly straddling the line. “We have a contact, a possible way in the back door.”
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