Fabien clears his throat. My brother-in-law’s the eldest in his family. With two younger brothers of his own, he’s easily adopted the role of big brother to me, overprotection free of charge. So I have a tendency to sort of wilt a little under his serious look. The Gerard family is well-respected—dare I say, even feared—in France, and there’s good reason.
Like his brothers, Fabien is huge and muscled, filthy rich, and hot as hell. My sister scored the whole damn package. But the point is, people pay attention to the Gerards.
Fabien speaks bluntly. “You need a bodyguard.”
Oh no. Not this again. I snort. “Bodyguard? Do we really need to come back to that?” I shake my head. I lower my voice, so we don’t draw attention.
I am pretty convinced that having a bodyguard for protection isn’t a normal thing. And even though I am all about the shopping, the super swanky little flat, and going to grad school debt free, I draw a line at the whole bodyguard thing.
“You guys,” I say, less resistant this time. “I really do appreciate your concern. You know I do. But I’m a grad student. I’m super careful. I’m not a party animal, and I’m rarely even out past dark. It’s just overkill, you guys.”
Both of them stare at me, unmoved. Nicolette sighs.
My sister, as beautiful and put-together as always, looks a bit older when her brow knits in concern.
“It’s not overkill, Savannah,” she says in a low voice. “Trust me on this one. Why do you object to this so much?”
I try an angle she might understand. “Because I am hardly a celebrity. And bodyguards are, like, for celebrities and importantpeople. I’m just not that special, and don’t give me that ‘oh youarespecial’ lecture again. You might as well give me a participation trophy.”
Nicolette’s lips press in a thin line. “You just don’t want someone following you.”
I cannot pull the wool over my big sister’s eyes.
“Well, yeah,” I say, still trying to plead my case. The truth is, though, that even though I’m an adult, and a competent one at that, my sister is fully responsible for paying my bills. She wants to, and it’s important to her. Plus, I’m flat-out broke, so I wasn’t foolish enough to decline what she offered.
That puts me a bit at her mercy, though. While she’s no longer my legal guardian, I am sort of her responsibility.
Nicolette shoots a quick glance toward Fabien. I quake a little at the look on his face, as he’s grown a little more serious. A bit more stern.
“We can’t make you have a guard if you don’t want one,” he says, with a tightening of his jaw that sort of implies he wishes he could. “We aren’t your legal guardians, and you are an adult. We can, however, make strong recommendations that are in your favor.”
He doesn’t usually lectureme, but he’s damn intimidating. And even though he’s only ever been good to me, I know he’s capable of… shall we say… scary things.
I know he wouldn’t hurt me.
Would he?
Before I came here and met him, I warned Nicolette. I told her that the Gerard family was known for being a new but tenacious organized crime ring. I wouldn’t have known a thing if Fabien’s friend hadn’t sort of tipped me off.
Last year, Fabien sent one of his friends from Boston to provide security for me.
When I found out Fabien’s friend’s name was Mario Rossi, I put two and two together. Everyone in Boston knows the Rossi family name: known mafia, feared, powerful… and friends with the Gerard family. I’m not exactly an expert on the mafia, but I do know that being friends with a known mob is a pretty decent red flag.
So I took a risk one night and casually mentioned something about the Gerard family to Mario, implying I knew full well they were mafia.
Mario went right along with it. “Not as large as we are,” he said. “They’re newer, but rapidly growing.”
I had my answer.
So even though Fabien has never given me reason to fear him, at the back of my mind, I know what he’s capable of. The knowledge makes me a bit more guarded. I’m on my best behavior around him. I’m… kinda not sure what he’d do if I wasn’t.
Fabien glances at his phone. “Dammit. We need to go. We were supposed to leave for the airport ten minutes ago.” The two of them are on their way to Italy.
I wave my hand at the table. “I’ll get this,” I say, flashing my sister a magnanimous grin.
Standing, she winks at me. “Don’t think this conversation is over.”
I roll my eyes and stand, giving them both Parisian air kisses on the cheek.
