Remington (The Theriot Family 1)

“This is Henri. We met recently, and we’ve been seeing each other for a short time.”

My stepmother looked between the two of us, and I could tell she saw more than I wanted her to. She’d known my cousin Constance and her fiancé were a match before they did. Marjorie had an uncanny way with matchmaking. She’d known from the moment they’d met that she was meant to be with my father, and she’d waited for him all those years.

She held out her hand, and Henri took it graciously. “I’m so happy to meet you. I’ve heard only wonderful things about you.”

She gave me a sly smile. “I’m sure you have, and I can tell you many wonderful things about Remington—and some of the not so wonderful things.”

I shook my head. “Don’t you dare.”

“Behave yourself, and I won’t need to.”

The smile on Henri’s face told me he liked her, and that helped some of my tension melt away.

I turned to my father. “Pop, this is Henri.”

My father held out his hand. “You can call me Bébé like everyone else.”

I saw Henri’s eyes widen in surprise. I’d told him my father wasn’t like what he probably expected, and it was true. The more of the business Pop turned over to me, the more he acted like his true self, the caring jovial man he’d been in private when I was growing up.

He could still be ice cold, and he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate anyone who dared defy him, but he was only scary when he had to be.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Henri said.

My father looked him up and down, and his eyes narrowed. It was interrogation time. I took Henri’s hand and squeezed it. He would do fine.

“How do you know my son? He’s not given us any details.”

Henri glanced at me, then back at my father. “We met while Remington was out working one evening.” His voice shook a bit on the last word.

“Has he told you much about his work?”

Henri glanced at me again, and I gave a small nod, letting him know it was okay to tell my father that I had.

“He’s shared a little.”

“And you’re still here with him. That’s a good sign. He tries to scare men away, and it often works. Ones that stick, those are the ones with potential.”

Heat rushed to my face. Did my father have to embarrass me?

Henri smiled. “He hasn’t scared me away yet.”

The soft smile he gave me nearly made me forget where I was. I wanted to pull him into my arms and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe.

“I would love to have you for lunch one day,” my stepmother said, smiling at Henri. That would involve a far more serious interrogation, but I could prepare him for it.

“That would be lovely,” Henri said. “I’m honored you’d ask.”

How could Henri think he didn’t know the right things to say in these situations? He had a natural charm that would help him fit into any situation, which was probably how he’d managed to do well enough soliciting johns on the street. I struggled to keep a straight face as anger surged. I couldn’t stand the thought of random men thinking they deserved a piece of him. No one would touch him like that again.

“Remington, there are a few matters I’d like to discuss with you,” Pop said.

I had a feeling he wanted to ask about Henri more than he wanted to talk about the Landrys, but refusing him wasn’t an option. I would have to be as vague as I could about the nature of our relationship, but no one could see through my lies like my father could.

I turned to Henri. “Will you be—”

“I’ll see that he’s taken care of,” Marjorie said.

He gave me a nervous look, but I smiled at him. That was all I could do. Contradicting Marjorie was out of the question. “I’ll find you as soon as my father and I have concluded our business.”

“I’ll be fine,” Henri said, though he looked like he might faint.

30

Henri

Remington’s stepmother slid her arm through mine and turned us toward the door leading out onto a wide patio. “I could use some fresh air, and I bet you could too.”

While I didn’t doubt that, I was sure she wanted to get me somewhere private to question me further. I hoped I could come up with answers she would approve of and that wouldn’t reveal something troublesome for Remington.

She glanced over at me as we walked. “I’ve never seen my stepson look at a man the way he looks at you.” Her tone made me uncertain if that was good or bad.

“Oh, I…”

“He likes you a lot. Maybe more than likes.”

“I’m not sure he—”

“I am. I may not have raised him from birth, but I was there through his teenage years, through him coming into adulthood, and the way he reacts to you… It’s different than he’s been with anyone else.”