Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Luc
K enny’s voice reached me on Dorian’s porch where I paced.
“Alright, baby boy. I know it’s gorgeously springy out and that’s good for the soul after a long winter, but you coming in here voluntarily, or do I need to drag you in?”
“ J’arrive .” I didn’t often use French with my friends, but Stone had started studying French in the last year, so I used it more often at his house, and Kenny didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you pace, so you can skip the stoic Frenchman bit and let it out,” Kenny said, leaning on Dorian’s kitchen counter like he owned the place.
Dorian glanced up from where he was grating something on top of something else, likely a petit four or other delicate little bite we’d all share over tea this afternoon. So today wasn’t going to be Bake Off meets Home Reno—he was nearly finished with remodeling inside the small cabin next door, and now that we’d discovered his project, we did the heavy lifting while he prepared us some vol-au-vents or other treat in the kitchen. We all enjoyed his baking habit, especially since he’d gotten quite good after moving here to Silverton.
At the threshold of the living room, I stopped in front of the regal Alaskan Malamute standing sentry. “Bear, bonjour, Monseigneur .” I leaned down and touched my forehead to his. He may have looked like a dog bred with a wolf, but he was, much like his owner, a sweetie inside.
“Did you just refer to my dog as lord of the manor or something?” Stone asked as he set down two platters of treats, and Kenny shuffled behind him with a little tray holding a teapot and teacups.
“Gosh, I needed this,” Kenny said, slumping into the couch and leaning back, brushing a hand over his face.
“What’s going on?” I asked, happy to not be talking about me.
“There doesn’t need to be anything wrong for me to need some tea with my boys, but I’ll admit I’m over this whole long-distance situation.”
He sat forward and nodded when Stone held up a cube of sugar. Stone dropped it in, then handed him his teacup resting on a saucer.
“When’s she back?” Stone asked as he poured my drink—straight up, no milk or sugar, because I was a man of principle and it would be a shame to mar a quality Darjeeling, unlike some at the table.
The satisfaction of being known bloomed in me, followed by a stab of razor-sharp guilt. Yes, these men knew me… in some ways.
“Four more days,” Kenny grumbled, then flicked out his pinky and took a delicate but obnoxiously loud sip of his tea.
I chuckled, and Stone cracked a miniscule smile.
“Actually, I’m fine. I’m just whining. I found the love of my life and she’s about to be done with all her out-briefings and CIA shenanigans in DC and will be moving back here and…” He sighed and leaned back against the couch again. “It’s kind of unbelievable.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked, sliding a tiny lemon tart from the tray in front of me into my mouth. The bright flavor burst on my tongue, and the buttery crust created a perfect combination. I held up the tray to Kenny, signaling he had to try one as I chewed.
“It’s just”—he plucked a tart up with two fingers, then continued with a wry grin—“it’s better than I could’ve imagined, you know?” He popped the little bite into his mouth and groaned.
I laughed. “I knew you’d love it. This is the best yet,” I told Dorian. “ Je n’plaisante pas. J’en prendrais bien dix.”
“You’d like ten? That’s excessive,” Stone said, his brow furrowing, but a pull at the corner of his mouth gave away his real response to the compliment.
He was an odd mixture of shy and bold when it came to his baking. He wanted people to try what he made, to enjoy them, but he struggled to accept the praise that inevitably came with it—an apt metaphor for the man himself.
We chatted for a few more minutes, Kenny updating us on Elizabeth’s plans, and his failure to get her permission to propose, and then they landed on me. There came the guilt pulsing under my sternum.
“So, give it. What’s with the pacing? I know you can be angsty, but this is unusual.”
Kenny winked like a dope, but I loved him for it.
I was not particularly angsty, but he liked to joke that since I was half-French, I naturally tended toward feeling ennui and all the typical French feelings.
But this angst was real. And what I had to tell them might change things between us, so I couldn’t just brush it away. I couldn’t avoid this any longer.
It was time to let them know more—in ways I’d locked away. I’d resolved earlier in the day to be honest with them, and also to be more honest—more myself—whenever possible. Just thinking it made my eye twitch with dread, but it would be worth it.
I hoped.
Beast wasn’t here. Like the good husband he was, he was taking care of his pregnant wife. I’d almost copped out thinking it’d be best to have all three of my best friends in the same spot when I delivered this speech, but that would make me a coward. I’d catch Jude at his place when Jess was out, or corner him at work or something.
I had to do this.
“I have a confession to make. I’m afraid it’s going to upset you both, and I… I don’t want to tell you.” There. I’d said it.
Had to start somewhere.
Stone didn’t move, but Barbie sat up straighter and patted my back. “Then don’t tell us. It can’t be important, and nothing’s worth rocking the boat, right?”
I blinked at him, dumbfounded. “Really?”
He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. “No. Not really. Tell us whatever you have to tell us, and we’ll take it in stride. We love you, man, and we’re not about to run out of here because of… whatever this is.”
I huffed out a breath, forcing my lungs to empty. My stomach clenched, and I stretched my neck one way, then the other. “Fine. I’ll just say it.”
Stone nodded.
They waited.
I didn’t speak.
“Mmkay, go ahead,” Kenny prompted.
So I did. After years and years of keeping it all in, I told them the truth.
“My name is not Doux.”
Kenny blinked. “Your name is not Jean-Luc Doux?”
My head shook slowly. “No. It’s Jean-Luc Devereaux.”
Kenny blinked again.
Stone slowly lowered his teacup to his saucer. “As in…”
I exhaled. “As in the primary shareholder of the conglomerate behind several major international?—”
“Holy crap.” Kenny’s eyes were wide.
I braced. At least they had heard of the business so I wouldn’t have to explain that much. It shouldn’t have surprised me. They’d both spent time working in Europe and would be familiar with the brands all sheltered under the business conglomerate. A world-famous haute couture designer. A world-renowned champagne label. Luxury brands all housed under one billion-dollar company my family had founded and still owned the largest piece of.
“Your family is… insanely rich,” Kenny said. “Sorry, that’s like, uncouth or something, but I literally grew up in a trailer over here, so forgive my poor breeding.” He stuck out his pinky and then knocked back the rest of his tea like it was a shot.
A chuckle slipped out, and relief hit me. He was joking, at least, and not storming out with betrayal etched onto his face.
“So… knowing you as Jean-Luc Doux?” he continued.
I winced. “Not entirely false. I legally changed my name before getting into the military, taking my paternal grandmother’s surname.”
“Uh, yeah, not like it was random or anything,” he added with a mock-scowl.
No, it wasn’t. It had been another jab at my grandfather, to honor her name and not his.
“Why tell us now?” Stone asked, no hidden meaning in his words that I could detect.
That wasn’t really his style, yet I’d been expecting far more upheaval than this.
“I didn’t want it to affect my relationships. Before I joined the Army, I did it on impulse to push my family away, a little tantrum twenty-year-old me thought would result in being effectively disowned. The name and prestige had no bearing on my life after that, and have only recently become an issue again.”
Thinking back on the time when my grandfather made clear I wasn’t welcome anywhere near him didn’t hurt anymore. It was simply a fact of my past. That it ever hurt was ridiculous considering I’d tried everything I could to get that exact response, like a spoiled child stomping his foot, and yet I hadn’t been immune.
I hadn’t minded that he’d held my trust and all the money in it at bay while I served in the military. He’d changed the conditions of the trust so it would be released at his leisure, essentially, and now that I was out, he’d added a new stipulation.
Marriage to someone he deemed worthy.
I wasn’t a money-grubbing man. I didn’t mind working for a living, and I didn’t need millions of dollars. That said, Saint Security was expanding, and it just so happened I had the capital to invest without needing an outside investor. Before, I’d never had any vision of what to do with the money, so it hadn’t mattered to me.
But now that I did, I wanted it. And my grandfather wanted me to marry someone I didn’t know to get it. There had to be a way to convince him to ease up on this superficial requirement.
“And now?” Stone asked, nudging the tray of lemon tarts my way.
I took one and kept my eyes on it as I explained. “Since getting out of the Army, I’ve been re-owned, apparently. I also suspect that when my sister insisted my family start speaking to me again, they listened. And now, my grandfather has informed me it’s time to get married, or the agreed-upon return of my trust is null and void. So, he chooses the bride, and I cooperate, period.”
They both perked up at this.
“Like, an arranged thing?” Kenny asked.
I chuckled mirthlessly. “Apparently. Which is ridiculous, because I’ve made it clear for years I have no interest in playing their games. I’m not the next CEO or family rep on the board or any of that. But I guess my joining the US military didn’t show them that clearly enough, and now he’s demanding I marry some woman he’s picked out.”
Impulsive though it was, my choice to enlist had brought me so many good things, these two men included. I wasn’t proud of how I’d behaved before or during that time of my life, but I’d been relieved to have a break from… everything.
Kenny reared back, and Stone’s brow creased. “And you said, ‘thanks but no thanks, Grandpappy Moneybags?’”
We all laughed at that, and I took a moment to eat the tart and appreciate my friend’s humor bringing lightness to something I could hardly stomach. Because I also needed to admit this next part.
“No. I, uh, I said no, I wasn’t going to do that… If I didn’t care about the trust, I could ignore it entirely. But it’s a lot of money, and I could do a lot with it.”
“Yeah, I mean, if it’s decent, you could be very comfortable,” Kenny reasoned, though still not understanding.
“It’s millions. And with it, I could invest heavily in Saint. All those blue sky plans Bruce and Wilder have been dreaming up? The adventure training camps and courses Doc’s developing? Tristan’s self-defense academy. Hell, even a more robust staff and bigger European presence, or a second location—I could fund it.”
They blinked back at me, the depth of the resource slowly sinking in.
“What aren’t you saying? Just say it. I can’t take this suspense!” Kenny pleaded, practically crawling out of his skin.
Stone’s gaze pinned me down, making clear he’d brook no further evasions either.
“I told him I couldn’t marry the person he had in mind because I was practically engaged to someone here.” Impulsivity in response to familial stress wasn’t only confined to the past. And hopefully, he’d let me off the hook. The whole marriage requirement thing was so I’d show I could be responsible. Great, but it didn’t have to be with someone he’d hand-picked.
Kenny clapped. “Oh, well that’s brilliant. Way to throw him off the scent.”
Stone’s gaze narrowed.
“Kind of. I was pretty sure he’d buy it and now, I just heard he RSVP’d yes to the gala.”
Kenny’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, damn.”
I nodded.
“And who did you tell him you’re almost engaged to?” he asked, voice tentative.
I scrubbed my hands over my face and back into my hair, the full idiocy of my lie hitting me like a wayward shooting star.
“Elise.”