Page 15 of A Mistake of Identity
“My little bird has temporarily flown away.” Gabriel’s voice carried a dangerous edge as he scrolled through his tablet. “I plan to retrieve him this evening.” The loaded silence drew his attention from the screen. He found his friends exchanging glances. “What?”
Alain cleared his throat, choosing his words with the caution of someone who’d known Gabriel’s temper for decades. “Were you serious about keeping him? It’s just... he’s an escort, Gabriel.”
Gabriel’s fist crashed against the table. Neither man flinched—they’d weathered too many of his storms for that. “He is mine,” he ground out. “And yes. I plan to keep him.”
“For how long?” Lucas asked quietly, pushing the eggs around his plate.
“I don’t know.” Gabriel’s voice softened, revealing an unfamiliar uncertainty. “I just know that I need him.”
Alain and Lucas exchanged another look but said nothing. They finished the rest of breakfast in thoughtful silence, broken only by the distant sounds of Annabelle clattering about her kitchen.
The ride to La Sauvegarde’s headquarters passed in similar quiet. Alain navigated PDC’s morning traffic with practiced ease while Lucas reviewed the day’s schedule from the passenger seat, tablet balanced on his knee. Neither mentioned Ellis, though Gabriel caught their occasional glances in the rearview mirror. He ignored them, watching First Cat’s glass towers rise around them as they approached the financial district.
Brenda was at her desk when they arrived, her usually bright “Good morning” strained. Her eyes darted toward the conference room as she handed Gabriel the quarterly reports. Through the glass walls, board members had already gathered an hour early. And there, in Gabriel’s rightful place at the head of the table, sat Maximilien Rohan.
Three hours later, Gabriel stalked into his office, tie already constricting as his father’s voice echoed in his head. Each cutting remark had torn through his quarterly presentation as if Gabriel were some fumbling intern rather than CEO. It should have been his triumph—profits up eighteen percent, three strategic acquisitions seamlessly integrated, international expansion ahead of schedule. Instead, he’d spent three hoursdefending himself against accusations about Henri’s latest public scandals.
His wayward brother—who should have been at the Lumière Casino last night discussing damage control—had left him waiting like a fool. No doubt Henri was somewhere adding to the list of indiscretions their father had just spent hours holding Gabriel accountable for.
The only grace of the evening had been the unexpected approach of a beautiful young man. Gabriel’s fingers flexed unconsciously, remembering Ellis’ confidence as he slipped into the seat beside him, how he’d yielded perfectly to Gabriel’s control. Even now, that memory helped temper his rage at Henri’s defiance of both his CEO authority and brotherly responsibility.
But not even thoughts of Ellis could fully cool his anger. His fingers twisted around his tie, yanking it free and hurling it across the room. The board had sat there, nodding along as Maximilien steamrolled the meeting as if Gabriel hadn’t spent five years dragging La Sauvegarde into the modern era. As if the Rohan name wasn’t worth more now than it had ever been under his father’s leadership. Yet the moment Henri’s latest scandal hit the society pages, suddenly Gabriel was “failing to maintain the family image.”
A laugh escaped him, raw and bitter. The family image. Always the fucking family image. Because La Sauvegarde wasn’t just a company—it was the Rohan legacy. Never mind the profits, innovations, or growth. No, Gabriel must be perfect, above reproach, shouldering blame for every family indiscretion while maintaining an immaculate facade.
His fist crashed into his desk. His morning coffee toppled, the dark liquid seeping across quarterly reports he should have reviewed hours ago. He should have been back by ten, coffee stillhot, focused on acquisition proposals. Instead, past noon, and he’d been dressed down like an errant schoolboy.
Gabriel paced the length of his office, running his hands through his hair, destroying the carefully styled look that was part of that precious image. He could feel his control slipping, rage building beneath years of careful restraint...
Ellis.
The memory of his little bird’s complete submission cut through his spiral like a blade, bringing sudden clarity. Yes. This was what he needed when everything else slipped through his fingers—someone who would yield to his control completely, perfectly, willingly.
Cancel everything,” Gabriel commanded into his desk’s intercom.
Brenda’s response was immediate. “Sir, the Thomson merger—”
“Can wait.”
The intercom clicked silent. Gabriel turned to the floor-to-ceiling windows of his corner office, gaze sweeping past Old Town’s pristine cityscape to where the Mississippi carved PDC like a wound. Beyond it, the Fourth Cat sprawled in defiant contrast to the gleaming towers around him. Somewhere in that maze of streets, his little bird waited to be reclaimed.
The office door opened behind him. “Gabriel.” Lucas’s voice carried warning as he entered. “Your father was out of line, but—”
“My father,” Gabriel’s words cut like steel, “seems to have forgotten who runs La Sauvegarde now.” His fingers drummed against his coffee-stained desk. “Henri’s behavior is a problem, yes. One I will handle. But right now...” His eyes found the clock. Past noon. “Right now, I have a wayward bird to collect.”
Lucas sighed but nodded, fingers already moving across his tablet. “I’ll have Alain bring the car.”
“Good.” Gabriel retrieved his discarded jacket, shrugging it on with fluid grace. The board meeting’s tension still coiled in his muscles, but thoughts of retrieving Ellis curved his lips into something predatory. “It’s time everyone understood exactly who’s in charge.”
His shoes struck a sharp rhythm against La Sauvegarde’s marble lobby, the sound bouncing off Italian stone. Employees scattered from his path with lowered eyes—a deference he usually savored. Today, his mind had already crossed the river.
Alain held the car door open, face impassive. Gabriel slid into the back seat of the Mercedes, adjusting his cuffs as Lucas settled in beside him.
“Heart Court,” Lucas directed, passing the address forward.
The car pulled away from the curb, merging into First Cat traffic. For twenty minutes, Gabriel watched Old Town’s gleaming towers give way to the northern portion of the First Cat’s sprawl as they approached the Missouri River bridge.
“Sir.” Lucas’s careful tone drew Gabriel’s attention. “The location is... further than expected.”
