Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Savannah
Paris.
Is.
Awesome.
I draw in a deep breath, close my eyes, and release it. The warm rays of the setting sun kiss my skin like a blessing, and I am here for it.
“Nicolette, I swear, the Parisian air smells different. It’s just so…
cleansing.” It helps that we’re eating dessert in one of Paris’s finer restaurants, bathed in the scent of cheese and wine.
One of the cool things about Parisians is that they eat cheese literally any time of day, but most especially as a little palate cleanser between dinner and dessert.
On the table in front of me sits a half-eaten plate of crème br?lée, a dessert that’s as fun to eat as it is to say.
“It’s not exactly fragrant in the metro,” Fabien mutters with a grimace. True, true.
Nicolette smiles at me and winks.
Her husband can be grouchy, but he’s good to her, and that’s all that matters. Hell, I think the whole grouchiness thing runs in the family, because his brother Thayer’s not exactly a ray of sunshine.
With him it’s somehow… hot, though. All that brooding male power and testosterone. He oozes power with those corded, finely honed muscles, and that firm jawline I want to lick—
I catch that stray thought before it gets me into some serious Parisian trouble.
I decide I don’t care, not about grouchiness or what it would take to soothe that line on Thayer’s brow, or anything that might tamper with my current state of mind, because Nicolette and I are seriously living the life. The French are responsible for the phrase laissez-faire after all.
We live in Paris now. Thanks to my sister we’ve got more money in our bank account than I ever thought possible, and I’m in grad school.
What could go wrong?
“Savannah,” Nicolette says in that big sister tone I’ve learned to dread.
“Mmm?”
“We have to talk.”
Uh oh.
I try to avert the crisis of a serious conversation. I lean back and close my eyes, basking in the setting rays of the sun. “Girl, do not harsh my mellow.”
My sister raises an eyebrow. “Don’t harsh your what?”
“My mellow, babe. I am loving life, and I am not in the mood for a lecture.”
“When are you ever in the mood for a lecture?”
I open one eye to look at Nicolette, whose own eyes are twinkling at me.
She reaches over and tugs my hair, just like she used to when we were little, and smiles.
Ever since our parents died, Nicolette’s matured, and she takes her job as big sister pretty seriously.
“I wasn’t gonna lecture you. I just want to… talk.”
I stifle a groan. I’m not sure there’s much of a distinction between lecture and talk, but okay.
I know Nicolette’s concerned for me. I know she worked her ass off to earn the money we have, and though I don’t know the intricacies of it all, I suspect it had something to do with Fabien’s business in Paris and south of here in Corsica.
What he does isn’t exactly legal, but sometimes ignorance is bliss. Since I like bliss, I’ve chosen ignorance.
“Alright, then,” I say, steeling myself. I sit up straighter and give Nicolette my undivided attention. I fold my hands in front of me. “What shall we discuss?”
I shoot a quick glance at Fabien, hoping he’s busy on his phone or something. He’s more of the lecture type, and his input will definitely change the course of this conversation. No such luck.
Fabien clears his throat. My brother-in-law’s the eldest in his family.
With two younger brothers of his own, he’s easily adopted the role of big brother to me, overprotection free of charge.
So I have a tendency to sort of wilt a little under his serious look.
The Gerard family is well-respected—dare I say, even feared—in France, and there’s good reason.
Like his brothers, Fabien is huge and muscled, filthy rich, and hot as hell. My sister scored the whole damn package. But the point is, people pay attention to the Gerards.
Fabien speaks bluntly. “You need a bodyguard.”
Oh no. Not this again. I snort. “Bodyguard? Do we really need to come back to that?” I shake my head. I lower my voice, so we don’t draw attention.
I am pretty convinced that having a bodyguard for protection isn’t a normal thing. And even though I am all about the shopping, the super swanky little flat, and going to grad school debt free, I draw a line at the whole bodyguard thing.
“You guys,” I say, less resistant this time. “I really do appreciate your concern. You know I do. But I’m a grad student. I’m super careful. I’m not a party animal, and I’m rarely even out past dark. It’s just overkill, you guys.”
Both of them stare at me, unmoved. Nicolette sighs.
My sister, as beautiful and put-together as always, looks a bit older when her brow knits in concern.
“It’s not overkill, Savannah,” she says in a low voice. “Trust me on this one. Why do you object to this so much?”
I try an angle she might understand. “Because I am hardly a celebrity. And bodyguards are, like, for celebrities and important people. I’m just not that special, and don’t give me that ‘oh you are special’ lecture again. You might as well give me a participation trophy.”
Nicolette’s lips press in a thin line. “You just don’t want someone following you.”
I cannot pull the wool over my big sister’s eyes.
“Well, yeah,” I say, still trying to plead my case.
The truth is, though, that even though I’m an adult, and a competent one at that, my sister is fully responsible for paying my bills.
She wants to, and it’s important to her.
Plus, I’m flat-out broke, so I wasn’t foolish enough to decline what she offered.
That puts me a bit at her mercy, though. While she’s no longer my legal guardian, I am sort of her responsibility.
Nicolette shoots a quick glance toward Fabien. I quake a little at the look on his face, as he’s grown a little more serious. A bit more stern.
“We can’t make you have a guard if you don’t want one,” he says, with a tightening of his jaw that sort of implies he wishes he could. “We aren’t your legal guardians, and you are an adult. We can, however, make strong recommendations that are in your favor.”
He doesn’t usually lecture me, but he’s damn intimidating. And even though he’s only ever been good to me, I know he’s capable of… shall we say… scary things.
I know he wouldn’t hurt me.
Would he?
Before I came here and met him, I warned Nicolette. I told her that the Gerard family was known for being a new but tenacious organized crime ring. I wouldn’t have known a thing if Fabien’s friend hadn’t sort of tipped me off.
Last year, Fabien sent one of his friends from Boston to provide security for me.
When I found out Fabien’s friend’s name was Mario Rossi, I put two and two together.
Everyone in Boston knows the Rossi family name: known mafia, feared, powerful…
and friends with the Gerard family. I’m not exactly an expert on the mafia, but I do know that being friends with a known mob is a pretty decent red flag.
So I took a risk one night and casually mentioned something about the Gerard family to Mario, implying I knew full well they were mafia.
Mario went right along with it. “Not as large as we are,” he said. “They’re newer, but rapidly growing.”
I had my answer.
So even though Fabien has never given me reason to fear him, at the back of my mind, I know what he’s capable of. The knowledge makes me a bit more guarded. I’m on my best behavior around him. I’m… kinda not sure what he’d do if I wasn’t.
Fabien glances at his phone. “Dammit. We need to go. We were supposed to leave for the airport ten minutes ago.” The two of them are on their way to Italy.
I wave my hand at the table. “I’ll get this,” I say, flashing my sister a magnanimous grin.
Standing, she winks at me. “Don’t think this conversation is over.”
I roll my eyes and stand, giving them both Parisian air kisses on the cheek.
“Savannah,” Fabien says. “We won’t be reachable for at least the next two hours.”
I can tell he’s not a fan of this scenario.
Typically, even when flying they have their private jets or planes with internet access so we aren’t out of touch, but they had to book a separate flight this time on a commercial plane.
Even though they fly business class, their flight isn’t internet-equipped.
“Gotcha.” I’m already sitting back down and taking out my wallet.
“Which is exactly why I wish she had a guard,” Nicolette says in a low voice to Fabien.
Fabien nods. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him to assign a guard to me just for the hell of it, without telling me or even his wife. Their family home, which is also their primary headquarters, isn’t far from here.
“If you need anything at all, Thayer’s flown in from Corsica this weekend, and you know where to reach him.”
I try to focus on what Fabien’s telling me, but when he mentions his brother’s name, my mind sort of short-circuits.
I’d hoped he’d be in Corsica, since they have all sorts of businesses and connections there. It’s easy to pretend to forget about someone when they’re on an island, and not in the city where you actually live.
Le Sauvage, they call him. The Savage.
I don’t know how he earned that name, but a part of me wants to know.
I would absolutely die before I’d admit it to anyone, but I have a relentless, uncontrollable, schoolgirl crush on Thayer.
Why me?
Why him?
He is the grumpiest asshole in the family.
Every scowl he sends my way makes my heart turn in my chest.
Wait, what were we talking about?
Thayer.
In case of emergency.
Got it.
“Perfect. Listen,” I tell Nicolette. “When I was in America, I didn’t have a guard, and I was fine. I’m not sure what’s changed. If anything, I’m closer to you now than before.”
I don’t meet her eyes. My sister can see right through me, and I’ll bet Fabien can, too, which is almost worse, because the man has the power to literally wilt me with a stare.
“The difference is you’re in Paris now,” Fabien says as he holds Nicolette’s jacket up for her to slide into. I’m surprised to find my eyes misting with tears.
I want that.