That’s the word that fits. Complete.
My brothers and I have been through hell together. We’ve built an empire, survived loss, and protected each other against everything the world threw at us. But there’s always been something missing, some piece we couldn’t quite identify.
Remy is that piece.
She doesn’t complete us individually. She completesus. She fits into our dynamic as if she were always meant to be there. Sharing her with Breck and Ansel doesn’t diminish what I feel. It amplifies it, because I get to see her happy with them, see her laugh at Breck’s jokes, and soften under Ansel’s intensity. I get to watch my brothers fall for the same woman I’m falling for, and instead of competition, there’s… rightness.
Room service arrives just before the shower shuts off.
They emerge wrapped in the hotel’s plush robes, Remy’s hair damp and curling around her shoulders. Breck’s already talking about the meeting, walking her through key points while she nods and asks clarifying questions.
I pour her coffee from the room service cart and hand it to her. The smile she gives me is worth more than the entire Paris deal.
We eat on the terrace, Remy between us, taking in the morning streets of Paris. The sun makes her hair look like copper fire, and I find myself staring more than eating.
Two hours later, we’re in the back of a car heading to the client meeting. Remy sits between us in a fitted navy suit with her hair pulled back.
We have the presentation ready to go, and although everything is in order, something feels off.
I can’t explain it. It’s just a prickling at the back of my neck, a sense that we’re being watched. I scan the street as we drive, looking for anything out of place. A car that is following too closely. Someone on the sidewalk that is paying too much attention.
There is nothing obvious. But the feeling persists.
I pull out my phone and text the head of our security detail.
Me:Stay extra close to Remy today. Something feels wrong.
Security:Understood. We’ve got her covered.
Remy notices my tension. “Everything okay?”
“Fine. Just being cautious.”
She studies my face, then nods. She’s learned to trust my instincts.
The client’s office is in a modern building near La Défense. We’re ushered into a conference room where three executives wait—two men and one woman. They are all impeccably dressed, radiating that particular French blend of sophistication and skepticism.
Damon would usually be at these meetings, too, and his absence should feel like a void. But instead, the dynamic between Breck, Remy, and me feels balanced in a way it never did before.
Breck handles the introductions, his French flawless. The clients warm to him immediately, which is the point. He’s the face, the personality, and the one who makes people feel comfortable enough to sign contracts.
I’m here as technical backup. To answer the hard questions, to prove we know what we’re talking about, and to show them we’re not just salesmen.
Remy is here because she’s brilliant, and they need to see that.
Breck launches into the presentation, walking them through our security protocols, implementation timeline, and projected outcomes. He’s good at this, making complex technical concepts accessible without being condescending.
The clients nod along, asking occasional clarifying questions. Then the woman—Sophie Martin—leans forward.
“Your proposal is impressive, Mr. Jacobs. But we’ve had security consultants before who promised similar results and failed to deliver. What makes your approach different?”
Before Breck or I can respond, Remy answers in perfect French.
The room goes silent. Sophie’s eyebrows rise, and she responds in French, clearly impressed by Remy’s fluency.
Remy’s smile is warm but professional as she continues the conversation, explaining that she studied in Montreal for a semester in college. She offers to walk them through our methodology in detail—in French, if they prefer.
I stare at her. We’ve been in Paris for three days. Three days of Breck handling all the French interactions, of Remy letting him take the lead, of her playing the role of an American tourist who only speaks English. And she’s been fluent this entire time.
