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Her gaze softened as she nodded. “I think you’re right,” she admitted.
“Nicolette!” Phillip Senior roared.
“Assez, c’est assez, mon amour,”she said, looking down the length of the table at her husband.
Like their parents, the brothers spoke both French and Spanish fluently.
Enough is enough, my love.
And though her tone was soft, there was no denying the finality of her words.
Two
One month later
“Enjoying your meal?”
Jillian looked up at the striking figure of Lorenzo León Cortez, Gabriel’s best friend. His voice was deep, and he was tall—well over six feet—with broad shoulders and bone-straight, waist-length hair that only accentuated handsome features of his Native American and Mexican heritage.
The man was truly magnificent.
“It was delicious,” she admitted, smiling at her plate now empty of the short ribs.
Jillian had been surprised to receive an invitation to the opening night of Gabriel’s restaurant. Of course, she knew Cole had been behind it and had seen the look on Nicolette’s face when she’d arrived that his mother had been none too pleased. Nicolette Lavoie-Cress clearly didn’t favor socializing with the help.
Tough.
She glanced over at the family’s table in the center of the restaurant and caught Cole’s warm gaze on her—or rather, them. She took a sip of her champagne with a smile before looking up at Lorenzo, who was standing beside her table.
“You look like you could use some company, Jillian,” he said.
I must look as good as I feel in this dress.
Another shadow darkened her table. “Looks can be deceiving, Zo,” Cole said.
Jillian frowned at the possessiveness of his tone.
Lorenzo nodded in understanding before turning to walk away.
The jazzy background music filled the silence.
“You crossed a line,” she said, rising and picking up the sequined purse she’d picked to complement her red-satin wrap dress with its delicate spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline—a leftover from her time traveling the world. “Suddenly, this thing of ours has developed strings.”
“Jillian—”
He reached for her arm, but she easily evaded his touch and walked away, clearly ready to leave the small, intimate restaurant with its clean, stylish décor of pale walls, dark furnishings and bronzed accents behind. She opened the copper-trimmed glass door and stepped out onto the street without looking back.
At the sight of Gabriel and Monica at the other end of the block sharing a kiss, she smiled before heading in the opposite direction toward her red Mazda Miata with its black-canvas convertible top.
“Let’s go home, Cherry,” she said before unlocking the door and giving it a hard jerk.
Once the restaurant failed, the flashy BMW she’d purchased during better days as a private chef was repossessed when the payments were more than she could handle. She had returned to driving the cute and sporty little Miata her parents purchased for her at eighteen. It was fifteen years old and a bit finicky at times. When the engine didn’t start on the first try, she caressed the steering wheel and tried again. “Mama loves you,” she whispered, easing onto the street.
The drive to her modest loft apartment in Brooklyn went well, and she was glad to pull into her parking spot in the garage. She quickly made her way to the elevator and up to the ninth floor. She loved the building’s architecture: exposed brick, piping and ducts, beamed ceilings, wood columns and oversize windows. The blend of industrialized style with modern appliances and design gave it an aesthetic she had fallen in love with and had been pleased to be able to afford. She didn’t have a lot of space, less than seven hundred square feet, but the ceilings were ten feet high, and the city’s views were vibrant at night.
As soon as she unlocked her sliding metal barn door, Jillian began undressing, leaving a deliberate trail of sequined clutch, heels, flashy red-satin dress and then her panties. Nude, she walked across the hardwood floor to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. She’d gotten all dolled up. Attended the event. Eaten delicious food. And now she was ready to relax.
Her front door slid open and Cole stepped inside, still handsome in his black suit and tie. Jillian took a deep sip of her wine. “What took you so long?” she asked with a glance over her shoulder.
