CHAPTER 17
Breck
Aweek has passed since Enzo and Remy had sex in the back of his Range Rover, and Remy decided that she wants a relationship with us. All three of us.
She’s made herself at home in our penthouse. She steals Enzo’s hoodies, curls up between us on the couch, and touches us without overthinking it.
But Ansel’s barely been home to witness it.
Three major deals hit simultaneously, pulling him in different directions. He’s living in conference rooms and red-eye flights, and I catch the frustration in his eyes when he looks at Remy, knowing he’s missing everything.
He really wanted to come to Paris with us.
Now we’re on the private jet crossing the Atlantic, Remy presses against the window as the sun rises over the ocean.
“I still feel guilty that Ansel couldn’t come.” She turns away from the window to look at us. “That Singapore deal is huge, and now he’s handling everything alone.”
“His choice.” Enzo doesn’t look up from his tablet. “The Paris client’s been courting competitors. We couldn’t wait.”
“But leaving him behind?—”
“Was his call.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Trust me, Remy. If there were any way he could be here, he would be. But he’s also not going to let you stay alone while we’re scattered across the globe.”
Her fingers twist together in her lap. “The security you have surrounding me seems excessive.”
“Trent’s out there.” Enzo sets down his tablet. “No leads. No sightings. We’re not taking any chances.”
“Ansel made me promise to text him every morning and night.” Remy’s smile is soft. “And to send photos of Paris, so he doesn’t feel like he’s missing everything.”
“He’s worried about you.” I reach over and squeeze her hand. “And frustrated that he can’t be here. When he finally gets home for more than a few hours, it’s going to be interesting to see how he fits into our new dynamic.”
She looks between us. “He will fit in perfectly. I care about him just as much as I care about both of you.”
The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom. “We’ll be beginning our descent into Paris in about twenty minutes.”
Remy presses back against the window. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to Paris.”
Enzo’s intensity softens when he looks at her. “Wait until you see it from the Eiffel Tower.”
Her eyes brighten. “We’re going to the Eiffel Tower?”
“We’re doing everything.” I stretch, my back protesting the hours-long flight. “That’s why we came three days early.”
She bites her lip. “I can’t believe you planned this!”
I shift to crouch beside her seat. “You deserve to have some fun, Little Genius.”
Her cheeks flush. “Thank you.”
Enzo’s already gathering our bags, getting ready for landing. “When is the last time you actually took a vacation?”
She’s quiet long enough that I know the answer.
“Just relax and let us spoil you.” I squeeze her hand, and something in her smile makes me want to promise her everything.
The hotel is a restored nineteenth-century building in the 8th arrondissement, decorated in marble. Our suite takes up the entire top floor, with three bedrooms, a living area with windows overlooking the Champs-Élysées, and a terrace with views of the Arc de Triomphe.
Remy does a slow turn in the living room, taking it all in. “This is insane.”
