Page 70 of The Lawyer
My sister clearly notices and finally backs off to give us room. “Now, don’t you two start. I won’t have it. Shake hands and be done with it. Oh, hello?”
Willow smiles and hovers at the side of us, obviously not knowing how to proceed. I’m not entirely sure either, but my hand pulls her closer before I think too much about the potential fallout a Foxton knowing about this could cause. Probably because of the underlying sense of jealousy I'm not admitting to with him up close. “Persephone, Scott, this is Willow Etherington.”
They all nod their greetings, all kiss each other’s cheek in the typical Parisian way, and then Persephone is dragging Willow into the café as if it’s her right to do so. It gives me a chance to turn on Scott again, still unsure how comfortable I am with his presence in my life, let alone him sleeping with my sister.
He shoves his hands in his pockets, keeps his eyes firm with mine. “Don’t fucking try it, Landon. She’s happy. We’re happy. Leave it at that.”
“Mmm. Reasonably obvious on her part.” He shrugs and looks around me, his eyes on her probably. “I have a request.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Not a word about Willow. To anyone. My family included. I can promise I won’t give a damn about the information you have on me if anyone else finds out we’re together.” He smiles. It’s the same annoying one he used the last time he had something over me. “And if I have to, I’ll use my sister to get the message through your skull. If you’d like us to be something close to friendly, ensure you keep your mouth closed about this, for Persephone’s sake if not mine.”
He holds his darkly tanned hand out again, beads and bracelets decorating his wrist. “Alright.”
“That’s it? No comeback?”
“No. None. I’d rather she was content. You seem to make her content as much as I do. Christ knows why, frankly.” I frown at that, not sure I understand why that would be the case either. “You've also kept up your part of the deal with my father and The Herald, so as far as I'm concerned, we're square.” So far, at least. “Are you going to shake my hand or not?” I grip it, shake it, and then back the hell away from him again.
He snorts and walks past me, having the gall to pat me on the back. “Scott?” He glances back. “Why didn't you tell her I was here last time?”
“I didn't want her upset. Knowing her brother was here, but couldn't bring himself to talk to her, would have destroyed her night.”
“Your night, you mean.”
“No, hers. Believe it or not, Landon, that art was all about her. Everything is about her. Because without her, I'm nothing.”
He leaves me standing on the pavement after that, presumably not caring for more conversation. I look out into the street, not sure what I expected from him. Capitulation as sensible as that regarding Willow was not part of the equation in my mind. And neither was that degree of devotion to Persephone.
“A Tiffany's diamond bracelet, huh?” I look up to find Willow in the doorway, her hand high on the frame and her hip cocked out as if she’s about to dance. “Good present for a baby sister. I'm sure she'll love you forever.” I nod and stare at her curves, not remotely interested in staying for lunch anymore. “Are you coming in at all? I’m quite lonesome in there without someone to cavort with. They’re all over each other. It’s really very sweet.”
“Cavort?”
“Yes. Or romp.” She lets go of the door and sways her way over to me, her body stopping before she gets as close as she’d like to. “I could sit on your knee and pretend I’m your private French maid. Imagine the possibilities that could present. I might even have an outfit somewhere in my wardrobe.” Her lips tip up, eyes glancing at my chest.
“Sounds intriguing.” She gets a little closer and looks around, probably wondering how up close and personal she can get out here. “But I’m not feeling French maid at the moment.”
“No? What are you feeling?”
“Giving.”
“Giving?”
“Yes.”
“What does that mean?”
My hand wraps around her waist, pulling her to me. “I thought you might deserve something relatively meaningful.”
She looks shocked, or confused, or perhaps even astounded that the term has even left my lips. I’m not surprised, nor am I particularly bothered, but what I am is consumed. I don’t know why. There’s not any one thing I can say or feel that makes her a choice for me. She’s just become a need … or an extension of something that was purely lust.
I smile at the thought, letting her body mold to mine in this outdoor space, and reach for my pocket. “Don’t get excited.” Still, she seems confused. It isn’t until the small blue box comes up in front of her face that she goes rigid in my hold. “I said, don’t get excited, Willow. Whatever we are, we’re not there yet, but we are somewhere. Open it.”
She reaches for the box between us, gingerly peeling open the bow and then the top. My own eyes widen at the ring encased in the velvet. It’s enough to show me that both the money spent, and the beauty of the emerald and diamond eternity ring, prove her worth to me. What that is in its entirety yet, I don’t know. What we will become from this point onwards is also still unknown. But we are something.
