Page 14 of A Mistake of Identity
Ellis told them the entire story, start to finish. The pair listened intently, Lottie’s soft gasps and concerned murmurs punctuating his story, while her hand occasionally flew to her mouth in surprise.
“It’s your proprietor’s fault,” Aric said, his green eyes flashing angrily. “Sucks it’s not a Union brothel. They wouldn’t have allowed the anonymity bullshit. You would’ve been given his full name and face, not just some basic description.”
Ellis managed a sad smile. “I know. But no union brothel will take a kid without a high school degree. I didn’t even technically finish middle school.”
Lottie squeezed his shoulder, then reached into her designer purse and pulled out her calling card—one of those fancy electronic ones that was quickly becoming the new standard. Not that Ellis could ever afford them. She tapped it against his phone, her information immediately syncing to his contacts.
“If you ever need anything, you call me, you hear? Especially if that proprietor of yours gives you the business.” Her delicate features had hardened with determination.
The conductor’s voice crackled over the speaker, announcing Moulin Coeur, the heart of the Fourth Cat.
“This is our stop. You?” Aric asked, offering Lottie his hand as she stood.
“Four more, then a transfer to red. Five after that.”
Aric nodded knowingly. Ellis’ stop being closer to The Docks spoke volumes about his normal clientèle.
“Good luck, Ellis,” Lottie called as they disembarked.
Ellis just waved, watching as their well-dressed figures disappeared into the station. He wasn’t looking forward to the confrontation with Donovan, but his mind drifted back to the mansion he’d left behind. To Gabriel. He pushed the thought away—he had bigger problems to deal with now.
Gabriel
Gabriel’s alarm pierced the silence, and he silenced it with a sharp slap. His hand reached across the bed, seeking his little bird, only to find cold sheets where Ellis should have been. The emptiness jolted him fully awake. He hadn’t given his little bird permission to leave. That he’d slept through the departure was even more disturbing. Either his little bird had been exceptionally quiet, or last night had drained him more thoroughly than he’d realized. The memory of Ellis surrendering so perfectly, breaking so beautifully beneath his hands, suggested the latter.
His jaw clenched as he processed the space beside him where his little bird should still be sleeping. A bitter anger crystallized in his chest. He’d been explicit last night—Ellis belonged to him now. The echo of those possessive words twisted with irritation as he recalled how sweetly his little bird had yielded to each command, how perfectly he’d submitted. That submission hadn’t been pretense; Gabriel knew the difference between genuine surrender and professional performance.
Grumbling, he moved through his morning routine with mechanical efficiency, mind already mapping out the steps needed to correct this... misunderstanding. The hall clock read half-past seven when he emerged, dressed for the board meeting at nine. A full day of meetings stretched ahead, which meant hiswayward bird would have hours to contemplate his error before Gabriel could retrieve him.
For a moment, he considered sending Alain to collect his wayward bird, but no—this needed a personal touch. Ellis needed to understand exactly what it meant to belong to Gabriel Rohan. The enforced wait would give him time to set things in motion. He’d need to acquire Ellis’s contract from that waste of space Donovan, among other things.
Settling at the breakfast table, Gabriel allowed himself a small, dangerous smile as he contemplated how thoroughly he would remind his little bird that he’d found his permanent perch.
Jacob placed a coffee and Gabriel’s usual breakfast before him, along with his charged tablet. “Your young master left just after four this morning,” the butler said quietly. Gabriel’s hand stilled on the coffee cup—he’d forgotten the device in his car, too focused on getting his little bird inside.
“Ah, the cat hours,” Lucas remarked, dropping into his usual seat and promptly stealing a piece of bacon from Gabriel’s plate. The familiar theft did nothing to lighten Gabriel’s mood.
Jacob set coffees before Lucas and Alain with well-practiced efficiency, his disapproving tut at their behavior carrying decades of fond exasperation. “Annabelle, perhaps breakfast for Masters Lucas and Alain before they devour Monsieur Gabriel’s entire plate?”
Annabelle emerged from the kitchen, silver-streaked dark hair escaping its pins, carrying plates loaded with eggs and meat. Her presence filled the room the way it had since Gabriel was a child, when she’d stepped into the void left by an absent father and a mother more interested in afternoon cocktails than her sons.
“The fruit platter was meant to share, Monsieur Gabriel,” she scolded, snapping her kitchen towel near his hand with theauthority of someone who’d raised him from boyhood. Gabriel shifted the platter closer, earning an eye roll from the woman who’d been more mother than employee. When he’d chosen this quieter residence in Lafayette Square over the principal estate, Annabelle and Jacob’s loyalty had never been in question.
Lucas reached across the small breakfast table and snagged some of the grapes, popping the whole handful into his mouth. “Have fun last night?” he asked around the fruit, earning another eye roll from Annabelle.
“Chew first, Lucas. Je n’ai pas élevé des loups,” Annabelle chided, turning back toward her kitchen.
“You might’ve,” Lucas called after her, grinning.
“Men! All wolves!” Annabelle’s hands flew skyward as she disappeared through the swinging doors, Jacob following with dignified amusement.
“Don’t antagonize her,” Alain warned, refilling his coffee. “She’s still the one who does your laundry. Or did you forget the bleached suit incident?”
Lucas wrinkled his nose at the memory. “I shall behave.”
Gabriel shook his head, but his amusement felt hollow. The morning’s light mood couldn’t dispel the space where his little bird should be.
“Speaking of behavior,” Lucas’s tone shifted, playfulness giving way to careful inquiry, “how was the cat you picked up?”
