Moonlight Seduction

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  The stupidest question surfaced. Did she still make little bracelets and necklaces out of wood? He’d hoped so. The girl had a natural talent.

  “Is this going to be a problem?” Dev asked softly.

  He frowned, dropping his hand. “No. Why would it be?”

  “Good question.”

  His gaze narrowed on his older brother. There was no way Dev knew. Dev hadn’t even been home that messed-up weekend, four years ago, when Gabe made the second-biggest damn mistake of his life.

  But his brother missed very little.

  “You had such a strange, strong reaction to seeing her,” Dev pointed out.

  “I was caught off guard.” That was the damn truth. “Wasn’t expecting to see her here. Shit. I thought something happened to Livie.”

  Dev watched him quietly for a moment. “I thought you weren’t coming back until Thursday.”

  “That was the plan.” Gabe sighed, looking at the doorway again. Hell. “But I decided to cut the trip short.”

  “Things aren’t going our way in Baton Rouge?”

  Gabe shook his head. As messed up as it was—and God, it was fucking messed up—he wasn’t even thinking about his trip to Baton Rouge now. His mind was nowhere near that place after seeing Nic. “Can’t blame them for it. They did me a favor by calling me in the first place, but they aren’t just going to let me waltz in there after five years.”

  “We can make them.”

  Gabe’s gaze sharpened. “Hell, no. You’re not stepping in on this, Dev. This is my life. This is my shit to deal with. It has nothing to do with the family.”

  “It has everything to do with our family. William is—”

  “Don’t.” Gabe met Dev’s gaze as his chest turned cold. “I am handling this the best way I see fit, Devlin. It does not involve you.”

  A muscle flexed along Dev’s jaw, a rare show of emotion and for a moment, Gabe didn’t think he was going to let it drop. “Which reminds me,” he said. “As I was leaving Baton Rouge, I ran into Ross Haid.”

  A mere glimpse of annoyance flickered across Dev’s face. “Let me guess. He wanted to talk about . . . Father?”

  “And the police chief. And why we’re having problems hiring staff.”

  “Of course,” Dev murmured. “He’s becoming quite annoying, which means he needs—”

  “To be ignored,” Gabe said, holding his brother’s gaze. “He needs to just be ignored. Eventually he’ll move onto something else, Dev. That is all we’re going to do.”

  “That’s exactly what I was going to say.” A faint smile tipped the corners of his lips, and Gabe was ready to call bullshit on that. “By the way, Sabrina is coming over for dinner tonight.”

  Jesus.

  Could this day get any more twisted?

  Well, he knew he wouldn’t be having dinner here then, because being on a different planet wasn’t a far enough distance between him and Dev’s fiancée. Wait. Something occurred to him. “Will Nic be serving the dinner?”

  “Since we don’t have the staff, she will be assuming Mrs. Besson’s duties fully.”

  And that meant she’d be serving dinner—serving Sabrina.

  Fuck.

  Standing in front of the large oven with her hands planted on the window, Nikki peered inside. Her stomach rumbled. The ham and cheese sandwich she’d made for herself before the awkward-to-end-all-awkward conversations with Devlin did nothing to stave off her overeager stomach. Her tiny lunch had been hours ago.

  The chicken smelled amazing, like herbs and butter and home-cooked meals. And from what she could see, the skin was crisping perfectly.

  God, it made her hungry.

  It also reminded her of all the afternoons sitting on one of the nearby stools, watching her mom cook for the de Vincents. Granted, the stools were newer now, a sleek gray design with thick cushions, but being in this kitchen, in this home, made her feel like a kid again.

  Nikki was a damn good cook if she said so herself and she had her momma to thank for that. She actually loved cooking, something she never got to do at her dorm room in Tuscaloosa or the small apartment she’d lived in her senior year. So when she did come home for the holidays, she loved getting in the kitchen with her mom and making stuffing, pies, and more.

  Except this kitchen was nothing like the kitchen at home. This kitchen was nearly the same size of the entire downstairs of her parents’ house.

  She rested her nose against the warm window. Who needed a kitchen this big? The de Vincents. That’s who. Hell, the entire home was ginormous. Three levels and two wings veering off from the main part; there were more bedrooms than Nikki could count and more rooms than anyone would ever have use for.

  The de Vincent compound had been remodeled and rebuilt over and over, but it mirrored the style of the days that parts of the South still desperately clutched on to. Each level was accessible from the porches that circled the entire property, and she knew the brothers all had their private quarters and entrances, and they were basically apartments. Those quarters had living rooms, kitchens, bedrooms, and bathrooms. Hell, their private rooms were, in fact, bigger than most apartments.

  According to her father, Gabe and Dev were in the right wing and Lucian and his girlfriend were in the left wing of the house.

  All the other bedrooms in between were empty, as was their mother’s room and their father’s. They had separate rooms, and she guessed none of the brothers wanted to take over those rooms.

  Luckily, the cleaning of their rooms was something that only occurred once a week and that wouldn’t be happening until Friday. She was so not looking forward to going into Gabe’s apartment.

  The last time she’d been in there, she been clutching this necklace she’d made for him, and . . .

  Nikki flushed and cringed at once.

  Her mind went back to the awkward reunion. Gabe had stared at her like . . . God, she wasn’t even sure. But it wasn’t good. Not at all and she couldn’t—

  “What are you doing?”

  Squeaking, she jumped back from the oven and whipped around. Her heart lodged in her throat.

  Gabe stood just inside the kitchen.

  “What is it with you guys creeping up on people and making no noise?” she demanded, placing a hand to her pounding heart. “God.”

  His lips twitched like he was almost going to smile, but then thought better of it. “I wasn’t exactly quiet.”

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Maybe because it looked like you were trying to stick your head in the oven.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “The door was closed, so that wouldn’t have been a very successful attempt.”

  “No, it wouldn’t be.”

  Nikki drew in a stuttered breath that went nowhere when her gaze collided with his. Silence followed. He didn’t speak. Neither did she. They just stood there, staring at one another. He didn’t look exactly hostile, but he didn’t appear warm and fuzzy either.

  Her shoulders tensed as the silence continued to grow.

  “Dinner smells good,” Gabe said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Roasted chicken?”

  She jolted. “Um, yes.” She turned to the counter, where she’d just finished peeling potatoes. “And potatoes. I’m also making a salad. There’ll be biscuits . . . with butter.”

  There’ll be biscuits . . . with butter?

  It took everything for Nikki not to roll her eyes at herself.

  He moved forward, maybe a foot or two, but stopped like one would if they were approaching a rabid dog. A heartbeat passed. “Your hair . . .” He tilted his head to the side. “It’s different.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Her hair used to be a rather dull medium brown, but then she found this amazing hair stylist in Tuscaloosa and turned her brown hair into this array of blondes and browns, using some weird technique called balayage. “It’s basically just highlights and stuff.”

  “Stuff.” His gaze flickered over the bun.

  Uncomfortable, she scanned the kitche
n. “And my hair is longer. A lot longer.”

  His brows lifted.

  Was she really telling him the length of her hair? This was the most strained conversation she’d ever had in her life. And that was, well, it was sad. She peeked at him. It used to not be this way. Back before . . . well, before she ruined everything, he’d be teasing her and asking about her college. He’d be talking to her like he could actually stand being in the same room with her.

  She needed this conversation to be over like it was yesterday and she also needed to figure out how she could work here and not run into Gabe. The house was big enough that it should be possible. “I need to get back to—”

  “Planting your face against the oven door?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Actually, I need to finish the potatoes. So, if you’ll excuse me.” She started to turn away, praying that he’d just leave.

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me? Because I have a lot I need to say to you,” he said. “Never in a million years did I think I’d see you here again.”

  Nikki’s spine stiffened like steel had been poured into it. Oh God. Her throat spasmed.

  “We need to talk.”

  “No we don’t,” she said quickly. “We do not need to talk about anything.”

  “Bullshit,” he snapped, and his voice was so much closer that she turned to him on instinct.

  Gabe was now at the edge of the massive island, only two or three feet from her. She stepped back into the counter. Her heart thundered in her chest as her gaze flicked to the kitchen door.

  “No one is coming near here,” he said as if reading her mind. Her gaze flew back to his. “Dev is in his office on the second floor in a meeting and your father is out with the landscaper. No one is going to hear us.”

  A weird mixture of sensations assaulted her. One was a chill that skated down her spine. The other was a tight, hot shiver that danced over her skin.

  Gabe kept coming at her, not stopping until he was right in front of her, separated by a few inches. She sucked in air, catching the crisp, clean scent of his cologne. It reminded her of storms, of that night.

  That was the last thing she wanted to be reminded of.

  Like his brother, he was a good head and then some taller than her, so right now, her eyes were fastened to his chest. Thank God he was wearing a shirt.

  “I . . . I don’t want to talk,” she managed to say.

  “I do.”

  “Gabe—”

  “You owe me this.”

  Her body jerked as she pressed her lips together. He was right. She owed him a conversation. “Okay.”

  There was another beat of silence and then he asked in a voice so low she almost didn’t believe she heard him right. “Did I hurt you that night?”

  Chapter 4

  “What?” she gasped, her gaze lifting to his.

  Gabe stared—well, more like he glared down at her. “I saw the sheets after you left. There was blood on them.”

  Oh my God, the blood rushed from her face and then swept back to her cheeks so quickly she feared she might have a stroke. At that moment, it seemed entirely possible.

  “Did I hurt you?” he demanded again.

  “No.” And that wasn’t a lie. Not really. It hurt, but from what she knew, it tended to hurt the first time.

  What appeared to be relief flickered across his face as he briefly closed his eyes.

  She drew in a shallow breath. “It’s just, you know—”

  “No.” That relief was gone, replaced by anger. “I don’t know, Nic.”

  Really? She looked away, telling herself that she was an adult and she could have this conversation, because he was right. She did owe him this. “I was a virgin—”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured that part out,” he interrupted, his voice so hard it could break a board. “Seemed like more blood than there should be. Then again, I’ve never made it a habit of fucking virgins, so I’m a little inexperienced in that department.”

  Nikki flinched. Of course he wouldn’t make that a habit. Gabe was a good guy. One of the best. “I don’t know what to say, but you didn’t hurt me.”

  A muscle thrummed along his jaw. “I don’t believe that for one fucking second.”

  She looked up, her eyes wide as she focused on his shoulder. “You didn’t, Gabe.”

  He leaned his head in as he placed his hands on the counter, on either side of her hips. Within a second, he’d gotten all up in her space. “I don’t remember much about that night,” he started.

  Nikki flinched again, because she remembered everything about that night. Everything. And wasn’t that the gut punch? It had been all she ever wanted, and he hadn’t even remembered most of it.

  He hadn’t even known it was her.

  “Just bits and pieces,” he continued. “But what I do remember? I sure as hell didn’t treat you like someone who’d never had sex.”

  That part was also true. Gabe had not held back and he was large. It had been . . . intense, to say the least.

  “So, when I remember those parts and that blood? Yeah, I’m going to wonder if I hurt you.”

  She shook her head. “You didn’t.” Her gaze dropped to his right hand. His knuckles were bleached white from how tight he was gripping the end of the counter. “Gabe, I am so—”

  “Sorry?” he queried softly. “Are you seriously going to apologize to me?”

  “Well, yes. I actually apologized to you that morning. Profusely, if I remember correctly—”

  “Oh, I remember that.” His eyes were like sheets of ice. “But not sure how an apology is adequate for what happened.”

  It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. “But I need to.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I am sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

  Nothing about him softened. Not that she expected her apology to do so. “Do you even know how bad things could’ve gone?”

  “I—”

  “No,” he said, and Nikki quieted. “You didn’t give me a chance to say shit to you. Not in four years. Not when I tried to call you. Not when I tried to make sure you weren’t fucking hurt. You disappeared when you left for college. Dropped off the face of the planet and never came back.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” she asked. “Because I am pretty sure at one point that morning that you never wanted to see ‘my fucking face’ again.” A knot expanded at the back of her throat. It still hurt to even think about how he had looked at her, how utterly disgusted he’d been. “I remember you saying that.”

  He didn’t respond to that.

  “I also remember you telling me I dis—”

  “I remember that,” he bit out.

  “Then why are you asking me this? It’s not like you really wanted to talk to me or something,” she shot back, getting angry. She knew what she’d done was wrong, beyond wrong, but the anger was still building in her. Had he really expected her to answer those calls? After what he’d said to her? After he’d seen how devastated she’d been? There’d been no way she could’ve talked to him. She’d been embarrassed. Humiliated. And most importantly, her heart shattered into a million, stupid little pieces.

  “But now you’re back,” he said. “Strolling back into my life like nothing happened.”

  “I wasn’t exactly acting like nothing happened nor was I strolling anywhere—”

  “Do you realize what could’ve happened to me if anyone ever found out?”

  She gasped as her eyes shot wide. “I was eighteen, Gabe. Not a minor—”

  “That doesn’t matter. You were still a fucking kid—”

  “I was not a kid. I was eighteen.”

  He barked out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, eighteen ain’t an adult, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart.

  God.

  Her chest cracked. He used to call her that and it actually sounded like a nice endearment. Not so much now.

  It struck her then. Coming back here was a mistake. Nikki would do anything for her parents,
but this . . . this wasn’t going to work.

  And Gabe was on a roll. “If our roles were reversed and you were as drunk as I was, what do you think would’ve happened? If I had come to you when you were drunk off your ass and taken advantage of you?”

  Tears of shame and regret crawled up her throat. That horrible sinking feeling threatened to drag her under.

  Honest to God, she’d known he’d been drinking but she’d never seen Gabe seriously drunk. He wasn’t like Lucian back then. She’d figured that he’d had a few beers. That was all. She didn’t even realize until that following morning that he’d been so drunk he’d barely known what he was doing or who he was doing. But she’d realized that pretty damn quickly before he even woke up fully that morning.

  Because he’d rolled over, curled his arm around her waist, and tugged her against his chest, holding her like he couldn’t even bear the thought of her getting out of the bed. And those brief seconds had been wonderful. Then he called her Emma, blowing up every stupid dream she had.

  “I didn’t think you were that drunk,” she whispered.

  His eyes widened with disbelief. “So you honestly thought that I’d want to screw an eighteen-year-old girl? A girl who was practically a sister to me? A girl who was ten years younger than me?”

  Those tears were threatening to reach her eyes. She looked away, pressing her lips together as she shook her head. She would not cry. Damn it, she would not fucking cry.

  “Christ,” he growled. “What in the hell did you think of me?”

  Nikki was so not going to answer that question.

  He cursed under his breath. “If your parents had found out what happened, it would’ve killed me. Literally and figuratively. Besides the fact your mother would’ve poisoned my dinner and your father would’ve fed me to the alligators, I respect the hell out of them.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I thought . . .”

  “What were you thinking, Nic? I got that you had a crush on me, but seriously? Do you know—” He drew in a breath that sounded like he was striving for patience and not doing too well at it. “Do you know how much shit I gave myself for allowing that to happen between us?”