AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I gave him his phone back. "And?"
I didn't like seeing Thierry touch my wife, but I knew their equation. They were like siblings. He felt about her the way I felt about Damian's wife, Emilia. I adored her. I'd die for her. I'd never ever fuck her.
I also didn't like that someone from Dom's organization was following my wife and taking pictures of her.
"Thierry was part of Jean-Luc's organization. Knows all the players. We think your wife is fuck—"
"Dom," I thundered, "You say one more word to insult my wife, and I'll rearrange your face. Thierry was hired to keep her safeandspy on her. He stopped spying and continues to keep her safe. He works part-time in her bakery as a favor to her. He's her friend and all but a brother."
"I'll ask again," Dom didn't back down, "You sure the baby isyours? Because she looks damn cozy with him."
"Since she was a goddamn virgin until I came along, yeah, I'm pretty sure, asshole."
Dom slumped against the chair. "What the fuck? Really?"
"She didn't want to marry any of the douchebags her father wanted her to, so she decided to lose her virginity to make her less appealing. She got pregnant, and that made her even less appealing to anyone except me."
I didn't tell him that Moreau had showed up with a Glock and sat exactly where Dom was sitting, insisting that I marry his daughter. I'd have married her without a gun. I believed that kids needed both parents.
"I don't have faith in anyone connected with Moreau," Dom announced.
"It's a good thing then that Elsa isn'tyourwife," I retorted. "Are we done? Because I need to get home to said wife."
"This wedding reception party thing, what do you know about it?"
I pulled out an invitation from the top drawer of my desk and threw it at him. "That's what I know."
"Are your parents coming?"
"Yeah, and Damian and Emilia. Dean is already in Paris."
Dom sighed. "I know about Dean."
I stood up then and put my hands on the desk. There was only one reason Dom would know where Dean was; they were working together. "Dom, what the fuck is Dean doing for you?"
"If I tell you, I'll have to kill you," Dom said casually, pulling the invitation card from its envelope. Most people would be joking with that cliché, but Dom meant it—he really would kill me if he told me. Which meant Dean wouldn't say a word either.
"Dom, you want to know my business; you got to come clean about my baby brother."
Dom set the invitation down. "I'll be attending your wedding reception."
I waited.
"Dean is meeting some people here, and then he'll be on his way to another place to track down an artifact for a client of yours."
I frowned. "That tells me fuck all."
He grinned. "I know, and hence I don't have to kill you."
"Is he safe?"
"As safe as you were two years ago when you were tracking downThe Concertby Johannes Vermeer."
I hadn't been safe at all. I'd almost gotten shot that time. Dom was reminding me that I'd almost died, but hadn't because of him. He, in his own strange way, was telling me that Dean was safe.
"Anything happens to him, you're going to have Archers all over your fine ass," I warned him, "Especially Mom."
He winced. Marcella Archer was a legend and known to be a complete badass. If she set her sights on you, she'd crush you like a bug. When Emilia once suggested to her that, "When they go low, we go high, Marcella," Mom had replied, "When they go low, I squish them under my Louboutins, darling."
