Page 66 of A Mistake of Identity
“I never burn anything,” Aric protested with mock offense.
Gabriel stepped into the shallow end of the pool, still in his slacks and dress shirt, ignoring Aric’s snort of amusement. “I trust your expertise completely,” he assured Aric solemnly as he scooped Ellis from the water, earning an approving nod from the self-proclaimed grill master and a surprised laugh from Ellis.
“Your clothes,” Ellis protested weakly, though he wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s neck as he was carried to one of the cushioned loungers.
“Just clothes,” Gabriel murmured, settling them both onto the chair. Ellis immediately curled against his chest, water-warm skin soaking through Gabriel’s expensive shirt. Gabriel pressed a soft kiss to his temple, then another when Ellis tilted his face up, seeking his lips. The kiss was gentle, unhurried.
As the sun set over Lafayette Square, Gabriel held his little bird close and watched their makeshift family gather for the coming fireworks display. It wasn’t perfect—they all carried too many scars for perfect—but it was real. It was theirs. And for now, that was more than enough.
Ellis
6 months later…
While winter crept into Porte du Coeur with its usual determination, Roatán basked in eternal summer. Ellis emerged from the crystal-clear Caribbean waters, board shorts clinging to his restored frame. Five months of recovery in PDC, followed by two months of sailing and proper meals, had rebuilt his strength, though Dr. Chen checked in via video calls twice weekly and Dr. Nguyen at least once a month.
His dive instructors chatted easily with him as they helped remove his tank, treating him like any other resort guest at the Barefoot Caye. After months of enduring PDC's endless scrutiny—the news cycles that had connected his disappearance and return to Gabriel's side with the sex trafficking bust in the Third Cat, the stares that mixed curiosity with pity or barely concealed contempt, the simple normalcy felt like a gift.
Here, they were just another pair of wealthy tourists enjoying the private resort's amenities. No whispers following him across restaurants, no sideways glances, no need to constantly remember he was a source of gossip and speculation.
Gabriel sat in his usual spot on the private stretch of beach, the resort's signature white canopy shading his lounger from the fierce afternoon sun. Even in the Caribbean heat, helooked perfectly composed—crisp white linen shirt unbuttoned just enough to be casual while still elegant, loose-fitting tan linen pants breaking perfectly over leather sandals that probably cost more than most people's entire beach wardrobes. His tablet rested easily in one hand.
Ellis thanked his instructors and padded across the sugary sand. Water traced paths down his chest and dripped from his hair, his blue board shorts hanging low on his hips as he approached.
"How was the lesson?" Gabriel's eyes traced appreciatively over Ellis as he dropped onto the lounger beside him.
"Good. Jorge says I'm ready for—" Ellis' words cut off in a yelp as Gabriel hauled him into his lap. "Gabriel! Your clothes—" Ellis squirmed, face heating as several nearby guests grinned at their display. He'd never quite get used to Gabriel's casual possessiveness in public.
The protest died against Gabriel's lips as he claimed a thorough kiss. Ellis melted into it despite his embarrassment at being manhandled so blatantly in front of others.
"Worried about my clothes again, petit oiseau?" Gabriel's whisper held wicked promise. "When we both know you'd happily bounce on my cock right here if I asked?" His teeth grazed Ellis' ear. "In front of all these witnesses?"
Ellis' blush deepened, but he didn't deny it. Instead, he gestured at the tablet. "What were you reading?"
"Mm." Gabriel's thumb traced idle patterns on Ellis' hip. "Henri's official resignation. He's taking a position with Michael Taylor's startup in London."
"Really?" Ellis shifted to see the email. "That's wonderful. He's finally getting away from Marc..."
"And our father," Gabriel added quietly. His arms tightened fractionally around Ellis. "Logan's handling thetransition well. La Sauvegarde will survive without a Rohan as CFO."
Logan Scott had been Gabriel's COO for the past three years, a shrewd businessman from Boston who'd earned Gabriel's trust through competence and unwavering loyalty. When Gabriel had announced his need for an extended leave, Logan had stepped up without hesitation, already familiar with running the company during Gabriel's shorter absences.
Ellis hummed in agreement, watching a sailboat catch the afternoon breeze. Their own Tanna 47 bobbed gently at the marina, gleaming white against the turquoise water. They'd left PDC in October, sailing her down from Lake Saint Louis, through the Mississippi, and into the Gulf, island-hopping their way south. She wasn't built for crossing oceans, but for exploring the Caribbean's hidden coves and secret beaches? Perfect.
"Three more months?" Ellis asked, though they'd discussed the timeline endlessly.
"Three more months," Gabriel confirmed. "Logan can handle CEO duties until April. Unless..." His lips brushed Ellis' shoulder. "You'd rather stay longer?"
Ellis turned in Gabriel's lap to face him fully. "I love it here. But PDC is home." He touched Gabriel's face. "You're home."
Gabriel's response was another kiss, deeper this time. Ellis barely noticed the wolf-whistle from one of the passing dive instructors.
They had time. Time to heal, time to explore, time to simply be.
But for now, there was just this: and salt air, the gentle lap of waves, and Gabriel's arms holding him safe and loved beneath the endless Caribbean sky.
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