Chapter 19 Jonathan
JONATHAN
Paris was calling, maybe, but I had other responsibilities to tend to. I was still the Butera heir, even after jetting across the sea.
I should have been reaching out to European contacts, seeing when I could get away for a quick meeting in Milan, chasing down the source of the threat that had scared us out of town.
I should have been acting like a man who gave a damn about his family, his role in the hierarchical structure of the Butera group. And I did. I did care. Just…not the way I used to before that goddamn auction.
The balcony of our hotel suite overlooked Paris in that impossible way postcards could only mimic.
Gray-blue rooftops, the Eiffel Tower cutting into the foggy morning sky, its dark outline barely visible but unmistakable all at once.
A breeze that smelled like fresh bread and a recent rain, and sure there were some unpleasant notes of big-city filth, too, but I was used to that back home.
The location made concentrating on emails for my day job feel like trying to perform surgery during a fireworks show.
But the real distraction was inside. Just on the other side of the fittingly French doors, presumably still sleeping in the fluffy hotel bed.
Frankie and Devin were both somewhere in the suite behind me, and I’d exiled myself outside so I could pretend to be the responsible one.
High-level executive, loyal son of the Butera crime family, dependable strategist.
The man who was supposed to keep them safe. The man who couldn’t afford to slip, even in the most romantic city in the world. I’d visited Paris before, of course, but never so…unscheduled.
Never on what was supposed to be, for all intents and purposes, a vacation. An escape.
I didn’t know how to escape. I’d been born into the role I occupied in this world, and I knew even less how to take a vacation.
Especially when someone out there had threatened Frankie so brazenly.
Even now, the memory of the note made me grip the balcony rail like I hoped I could snap it in two.
Fuck it. I had the money to pay for it if it came to that.
We were an ocean away from whoever had left that note in her mother’s mailbox.
But oceans didn’t stop people like the Antonovs or the Ferraras. It sure as fuck wouldn’t have stopped the Buteras were our situations reversed.
Though I liked to think my own family would never threaten someone as innocent as Frankie or her mother.
The door behind me whisper-creaked its way open.
I didn’t even have to look to know who it was. Devin moved like a stealthy jungle cat, Alex moved like a ghost, but Frankie, even as quiet as she was, set off sirens in my awareness with her ever gentle step.
“Whatcha doing?” she asked lightly.
I turned. She stepped barefoot onto the balcony, sweater hanging off one shoulder, her lovely dark hair soft and a little frizzy from sleep. A painting. A problem. A fucking miracle.
“You,” I muttered, “should stay inside.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why?”
“Because we’re still not secure.” I nodded to the street far below. “And because you’re supposed to be resting off the jet lag, not breathing down my neck while I work.”
Her lower lip pushed out just barely in a pout she probably didn’t realize she was using as a weapon. It hit its mark right in my chest.
“I’m on vacation,” she said. “Or I’m supposed to be. So shouldn’t I get to do whatever I want?”
A fair point. I resisted the twitch of my lips, stayed silent. Frankie went on, huffing in annoyance.
“Jonathan, this is Paris. That’s the Eiffel Tower over there! And you promised you’d come with us today.”
“I didn’t promise anything,” I said automatically. My voice was sharp, a buzzkill even as I admired her tenacity. She had the makings of a perfect little brat.
“You promised whatever I wanted,” she corrected me. She stepped closer, eyes sparkling with mischief so light and pure it hurt. “And I want to explore. With you and Devin. And Alex, too, if he ever decides to show back up.”
I huffed, unable to stop the smile. “He’ll turn up. He always does.”
“Exactly. So you don’t need to be out here brooding over…stupid emails.” She poked my laptop with one finger. “Please? I want to see the Louvre. Or the gardens. Or literally anything that isn’t this hotel, lovely as it is.”
Devin appeared in the doorway then, leaning against the frame, arms crossed. “You’re not gonna win,” he murmured to me. “She’s been practicing her pout.”
Frankie swatted him without taking her eyes off me. “Jonathan?”
My resolve cracked like thin ice. It always did around her.
“Fine.” I snapped shut the laptop.
Her entire face lit up. For a second I forgot about threats, obligations, family expectations—everything except that smile. It was too goddamn tempting.
“Let’s get going, then,” Devin said, and we dove head first into our first day in Paris together.
I knew that the Louvre was too big to understand in a day, but it didn’t surprise me that despite my logic, my warnings that she should pace herself, Frankie tried.
She flitted between paintings and sculptures like she was tasting the entire world, an eager little honeybee collecting pollen everywhere she went.
The yellow sundress she’d thrown on with a sweater, some tights, and boots to make it a little more appropriate for this late-winter, early spring weather only added to the effect, and I was stunned by the contrast between her bright color and mine and Devin’s shared darkness.
Devin trailed her with that easy grin of his, murmuring jokes into her ear, hands brushing her waist whenever she wandered too close to a railing.
I followed behind, pretending to analyze map routes and security cameras, when really I was memorizing the way she tilted her head at a sculpture like she was trying to see its soul.
More than once, she caught me looking, and every time she’d give me that sweet blush, a shy smile, a look that made my cock hard and my heart soft all at once. God help me.
My loyalty used to be simple. My father first. The Butera organization second.
The job, the duty, the legacy etched into me since childhood. And yeah, the guys—Devin and Alex, my two closest friends.
But watching Frankie ramble excitedly about brushstrokes while Devin nudged her shoulder with his, laughing softly, I realized my priorities had shifted, quietly but completely.
The four of us had become…something I couldn’t quite name. My new order, maybe. My real family.
If I had to, I would burn the old one to keep this new, precious thing safe.
Hours later, we drifted through the streets with street food in hand—crepes dripping with syrup, warm pastries, nothing with the nutrition we needed, but it was whatever our girl wanted, and I was learning that she had a sweet tooth.
Frankie ate like she hadn’t been fed in weeks, and her joy was so bright my chest felt too small to contain it.
When she licked chocolate off her thumb, Devin nearly walked into a lamppost.
I didn’t blame him.
As twilight deepened into night, Paris unfurled around us like a living, breathing dream.
Frankie looped her arm through mine, leaning into me.
The kind of casual affection that would have terrified me months ago. Now it made my throat tighten.
Before we returned to the hotel, an idea slid quietly into place.
“Come with me,” I said.
Devin raised a brow.
Frankie perked up instantly. “Where?”
“You’ll see.”
I made one discreet call. A friend of a friend who owed me a favor. Ten minutes later, we were being ushered past a line of tourists and into a private entrance at the Eiffel Tower.
Frankie’s hands flew to her mouth. “Jonathan—”
“Just wait,” I told her, even though watching her awe was almost better than the view would be.
The elevator carried us up, the city shrinking below in a patchwork of gold and silver. When we reached the top platform—empty, silent, glowing—Frankie stepped out like she was afraid the magic might vanish if she moved too fast.
“Oh my god,” she whispered.
Paris glittered beneath us. The tower itself glowed like molten gold, and the chill of the wind up here was exhilarating. Devin’s hand found the small of her back. Mine brushed her arm. She looked between us, eyes soft and shining, not just because of the lights.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt…” She shook her head, lost. “This.”
“What’s ‘this’?” Devin murmured.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, laughing. “I’m just…like, really happy. Is that insane after all the stuff we’ve been dealing with?”
“No,” I told her, certainty finding me as the words did. “Finding that is the whole point. It’s the reason we’re here. For you.”
“All for you,” Devin echoed, his voice low with a husky edge.
She stepped closer to me first, fingers curling into my shirt.
Then she reached for Devin too. Her cheeks flushed, not with embarrassment but with intention.
Confidence. Hunger that matched mine—Devin’s too, I’d be willing to bet.
For the first time, Frankie was the one to lean in, to initiate, to ask without speaking.
“Frankie,” I breathed, my pulse jumping in my skin. “We’re at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Not exactly private.”
Her lips parted. Her eyes lowered. When her hands slid up my chest, slow but sure, heat coiled low in my spine.
I knew, then, that privacy wasn’t what she was after.
If anything, the public nature of it, the impossible taboo, may have been stoking her need higher.
I met Devin’s eyes and saw a similar glint there.
A dare, maybe. The two of them tempting me into a mischief I hadn’t indulged since I was a much younger man.
It wasn’t an offer I could refuse. I pulled Frankie in and crushed my mouth to hers, relishing the moan of relief she let out against me.
“We’ve gotta be fast up here, Angel,” Devin’s gruff voice broke through the sound of labored breath. Frankie gasped, pulling back from my mouth at the sound of tearing fabric.
Devin had torn the tights she wore under that yellow sunshine dress. Giving us access to her.