Page 38 of The Rebel Heir

“I found one in the kitchen and I read it—felt scandalous for doing so—and quickly put it back,” she said as she searched and found the cabinet holding wine goblets.

“Where was it?” Cole asked as Gabe looked on at their exchange.

“In her knife case,” Monica said, giving him a playful wink before she poured half a glass of wine for each of them.

He bit back a smile and hung his head, remembering that particular note well.

The taste of you still lingers on my tongue.

The night before, he had spent nearly an hour savoring Jillian intimately while bringing her to one explosive climax after another.

“You didn’t tell me you found a note,” Gabe said to her.

“And you didn’t tell me your little brother and the chef were doing the do,” Monica countered.

Gabe raised his glass to her.

She touched hers to his.

“Touché,” they said in unison.

Cole eyed them, loving their vibe together. Monica had softened his brother, and never had he seen him smile so much. Jillian did the same for him. His rebellious brooding was not as constant.

And his mother had contributed to taking that from him.

“Mom offered Jillian the chef position to end things with me,” Cole said, filling the silence and giving in to the sudden need to share his frustration with their mother.

“Damn.” Gabe frowned. “Are you sure?”

“She didn’t know I was in Jillian’s apartment, and I heard it all myself,” Cole said.

The frown became a scowl.

“Perhaps it’s time I share something.” Monica took a deep sip of wine before moving over to wrap an arm around Gabe’s waist.

He looked wary.

“She did the same with me.” Monica finished dryly, “ButIdidn’t get a job offer.”

“What!” Gabe roared.

Monica winced as she held him tighter and recounted Nicolette’s coming to the charity ball she threw for the nonprofit foundation she’d developed to help young adults aging out of the foster care system. “She warned me that our relationship would never survive. But she was wrong.”

“You never told me that,” Gabe said, looking down at her upturned face.

Cole shook his head at the indignity of his mother’s behavior.

“I didn’t because it was your mother that sent the invite to your grand opening that brought us back together,” she said, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Doesn’t change the fact that to interfere in the lives of her sons like that is nothing but hubris and ego.” Cole’s voice chilled as his anger resurfaced.

Forgiving was far easier than forgetting.

“I agree,” Gabe said, tossing the rest of his skewer onto his plate as if his appetite had vanished.

Or been taken from him by his annoyance.

“I wonder what other secrets we’re clueless to,” Gabe muttered.

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