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“You’re thinking of much better things now, aren’t you?” he asked.
How the hell did he do that? Even Gwen didn’t know what I was thinking that easily, and we’d been friends for years. I was used to being a puzzle to people. “Um… maybe.”
His smile turned predatory. “If I wasn’t determined to prove to you that I make the best French toast you’ve ever had, I’d drag you right back upstairs.”
No matter how hungry I was, I wouldn’t protest. “I deserve to know more about your enemies.”
Lance sighed.
“Were you hoping you distracted me?”
“I should have known better.”
“Why was the necklace stolen in the first place? Just for the money?”
Lance flipped pieces of toast onto a plate and added more to the pan. “I think they did it to prove they could and possibly as a gift. The head of the family has a new wife.”
I frowned at him. “What good is it as a gift? She can’t wear it. Not when…”
“Maybe not right now and certainly not here, but the people responsible are based out of Houston, not New Orleans, and as much as you want this to be something everyone would recognize, it’s not. They could say it was a reproduction made because of the stir caused when the necklace was stolen.”
“Why would someone believe that?
“Because they don’t want to be shot.”
Yikes. “I guess I didn’t think about it that way.”
“These are not nice people.”
“You’re not a nice person.”
Lance chuckled. “You’re right. I’m not, but I’m going to protect you, and I’m going to do it by keeping you here where I know you’re safe.”
I huffed. Was he trying to scare me now? “I can’t just stay home from work, Lance.”
18
Lancelot
I’d known Julian would argue with me. I could tell from the moment I’d first seen him that he wasn’t someone who stood down easily. He might not have my kind of toughness, but he had convictions about things that mattered to him. Not even someone like me or my brother would deter him.
I had no doubt he would have bashed me over the head last night if he’d felt more threatened. I was used to people—other than my brothers—doing what I said because they wouldn’t dare cross me. That tactic wasn’t going to work on Julian.
“How long has it been since you’ve taken a day off?”
He sniffed. “I have every weekend off.”
“What do you do on the weekends?”
“I read, and sometimes I…”
I raised my brows. “Sometimes you what?”
He sighed. “Sometimes I go by the library and do some extra work.”
Just as I’d suspected. “We’re going to fix that.”
“What do you mean?” He sounded genuinely confused.
“Your work can’t be your life.”
“Isn’t yours?”
Tony saved me from answering as he scampered into the kitchen. The smell of something cooking always woke him. He climbed up onto the table in front of Julian and demanded to be greeted properly. I focused on the French toast while Julian petted him.
My work wasn’t my life. Not exactly. But what else did I have? Partying. Finding ways to put myself in danger—fast cars, crazy stunts, the occasional trek through the swamp with Ambrose to practice my tracking skills. Okay, maybe the tracking thing counted as work or prep for work. This wasn’t about me, though.
Tony held Julian’s attention long enough for me to plate up the French toast. I set a plate in front of Julian. He broke off a piece and handed it to Tony before even tasting it himself. It was in that moment—seeing that beautiful soft smile on Julian’s face as Tony took the treat and gobbled it down, seeing him care for the little creature he’d yelled at the first day we’d met—that I realized I was absolutely serious about not letting Julian go after we’d taken care of this mess with the Carlottis.
I was going to keep Julian safe, and I was going to keep him with me. I’d seen Remington with Henri and Corbin with Beau. I’d seen the way they looked at each other as they fell in love, and I was starting to think I was looking at Julian just like that.
I was still watching him when he took his first bite of French toast. He closed his eyes and groaned, the sound too much like the ones he’d made when he was inside me.
My cock stirred, ready for another round, but Julian needed to eat and to rest. I shouldn’t completely wear him out on our first night together. I could be good and take care of him.
“This is the best French toast I’ve ever eaten. I didn’t think… I mean… But it is.”
“You thought I was just bragging. You thought a man like me couldn’t create something like this.”
He frowned, then nodded slowly. “I was wrong.”
“You were, and it’s possible you’re wrong about other things you assume about me.”
