as I take in the deeply etched raven’s wings inked along his shoulder blades confirming his place in the royal lineup. I wish so much that I could rip them away, or somehow disfigure them. He’s not worthy of having two brothers, blood-related or not, who are solely devoted to him.
And the added insult is that he’s magnificent, rippling muscle and smooth skin as he glides through the water fluidly, his muscular legs propelling him across the pool. I take a minute to admire him as he turns to do another lap, his back coiling while the water cascades down his athletic frame.
Powerful, formidable, intimidating, a heartless, soulless predator.
And now he’s invading, intertwining our lives just to prove his point, that temporarily, he owns me.
One of three phones rings where it sits on a waiting towel at the edge of the pool. I recognize two of them as the same model of the burner phones Sean used. I hear a faint “Oui?” before I make my way down to him.
By the time I get poolside, Tobias is furiously barking orders and cursing in a mix of English and French. I tentatively listen as he speaks with his back to me and can’t make out much aside from the fact he’s angry. His foreign tongue fluid, thick, sexy, enticing. His back goes ramrod straight before he turns to see me standing there, shamelessly eavesdropping. Snapping one last order, he cuts the call, discarding the phone next to the others before stretching his arms out on the side of the pool.
“Sounded serious.”
“And what is it you think you heard?”
“Le pleck, le spit,” I upturn my nose and school my features in my best imitation of a French snob, “le plah, le bark, more spit, and merde.”
We glare at each other for a second before he throws his head back and laughs. I completely ignore my urge to smile at the sound of it, instead crossing my arms and cocking my hip. “I’m not fluent. Yet. But watch your back, Frenchman.”
His laughter slows and he shakes his head, a chuckle sounding just before his eyes roam me in amusement.
“So, what crises are you fighting today?”
“Don’t concern yourself.”
“I’m not concerned, but I am curious as to why you’re here, again. Do you not have a home?”
“Plenty of them.”
“Then why take up residence here?”
“Just taking advantage of my position. You should as well. The water is warm.” He eyes me in my boy shorts and a cami.
“I’ll pass. Seriously, can’t you take your problem solving somewhere else?”
“There are two types of ways to handle problems,” he starts, and I roll my eyes dismissively.
“Great, another lecture.”
“And two types of people,” he goes on, completely unfazed. “There’s the one that will walk past that offending piece of lint or paper on the floor every single day and tell themselves they’ll get to it. And those that will pick it up the minute they spot it. They’ll figure out where it came from, trash it, and forget it was ever there. But, for the ones that walk by it every day, it will become a problem. It will start to fester. Another something they’ll have to get to. Another pea on their plate. They’ll start to look for it, its presence a nuisance, and tell themselves they’ll get to it tomorrow. Until one day, it’s more of a crisis of conscience than a pea.”
“Let me guess. You don’t have any peas on your plate.”
One side of his mouth lifts in contempt before he speaks through thick lips. “I fucking hate peas.”
“It’s a piece of lint.”
“Only to the person who picked it up.”
“Confucius say ‘pick up lint.’ Got it, any more wisdom you’d like to impart before you depart? Can I count on your sudden and unwanted appearance every day now as well?”
“You can count on me being where I need to be until our business is concluded.”
“Whatever. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got better things to do than let you dip your finger in my head and stir.”
“Don’t be so quick to dismiss what I’m offering, Cecelia. We could learn from each other.”
“You mean you can poke and prod me for more intel on my dad? Yeah, I’ll pass.”
“I know plenty, but the devil is in the details. Know your opponent.”
“I’m not interested in learning more about you.”
“The look in your eyes declares otherwise.”
He doesn’t smirk, not a hint of smugness in his tone, leaving no room for debate. Maybe he can sense my attraction just as