Page 17 of A Mistake of Identity
Jean Saint-Clair. The name finally penetrated Gabriel’s consciousness—Henri’s friend Marc’s younger brother. That explained the earlier contempt, the flash of recognition. Another complication, but one that could wait.
“I can’t imagine what Olivier Saint-Clair would say if he knew you were here,” Lucas mused, stepping closer.
“My father doesn’t need to know!” Jean’s shout echoed off the lobby walls as he settled protectively beside Ellis. Before Lucas could provoke the boy further, heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway.
“What the hell is going on down here?” Kevin Donovan’s voice boomed through the lobby.
The sound of the man responsible for his little bird’s suffering ignited every spark of rage Gabriel had suppressed since the board meeting. He carefully lowered Ellis onto the couch, shrugging out of his suit jacket to wrap around Ellis’s trembling form. “Keep him safe,” he murmured to Jean, then stood.
His first punch connected with Donovan’s jaw, the satisfying crack of bone a symphony to his ears. The second punch split his lip, blood spraying across Gabriel’s knuckles. Each subsequent impact fed the fury that had built since morning—his father’s contempt, Henri’s betrayal, Ellis’s pain—until everything narrowed to the wet sound of flesh meeting flesh, to the primal need to destroy the man who had dared touch what was his.
He barely registered Donovan going limp, his fists continuing their assault until strong arms yanked him back. Lucas and Alain’s voices cut through his haze of violence, but the damage was done. Donovan lay unconscious, his face a ruined masterpiece on the lobby floor.
The sight cleared Gabriel’s mind like ice water. He shrugged off his friends’ restraining hands, already turning back to Ellis. “Everyone in the car. Now.” His voice emerged with deadly calm as he gathered Ellis into his arms, ensuring his suit jacket covered as much of his trembling form as possible.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jean announced, defiant even as Lucas grabbed his arm.
“Enough.” Gabriel’s patience had evaporated with the last of his rage. “Lucas, bring Saint-Clair. We’ll deal with his father’s Swedish boarding school fantasy later.” His focus returned to Ellis, to the precious weight cradled against his chest. “Alain, drive.”
They exited Heart Court, Jean fighting Lucas’s grip every step of the way. Lucas tossed the boy unceremoniouslyinto the backseat alongside Gabriel and Ellis. Jean’s shriek of indignation at the engaging child locks barely registered over the sound of Ellis’s shuddering breaths against Gabriel’s neck.
Gabriel paid no attention to Jean’s outrage or Lucas’s amusement. His world had narrowed to the precious weight in his arms, to each hitched breath against his neck, to the way his little bird instinctively curled closer with each subtle shift. This—this was what control meant. Not the illusion of power he wielded in board rooms, not the facade of authority his father had stripped away, but this: his little bird, trembling but safe, finally back where he belonged.
#
Gabriel
The Mercedes glided across the Missouri River bridge, leaving the gritty edges of Fourth Cat behind as they entered Second Cat’s pristine streets. Gabriel shifted Ellis carefully in his arms, each pained whimper stoking the rage still burning beneath his skin.
“Explain,” Gabriel ground out.
“Explain what?” Jean crossed his arms. “That you poached Ellis from an important client? A client who happened to be a good friend of Donovan’s? The man was livid. Donovan gave him Caleb instead, and now Caleb’s looking at bed rest for days.”
“Why would Donovan give Ellis to someone like that in the first place?” Gabriel’s voice went dangerously soft.
Jean shifted uncomfortably. “Because Ellis had nowhere else to go. Most of the others—the high earners especially—will eventually end up at Union houses. You can’t risk damaging merchandise that has options. There are rules, even in Fourth Cat. Donovan doesn’t want to get shut down.” He glanced at Ellis. “But Ellis... he never finished school. Any of it. He’s not qualified for Union work, so places like Heart Court were his only option. Donovan took advantage, gave him to the sketchier clients more often than not.”
Gabriel’s hands tightened, and Ellis made a small sound of distress. He forced himself to relax his grip, wishing he’d done more than just beat Donovan unconscious.
“You seem to know a lot about Donovan’s business practices,” Lucas observed, voice sharp.
Jean let out a harsh laugh. “Trust me, I know exactly how the wealthy treat their servants. I grew up watching it. Donovan’s no different; took calls right in front of me and discussed clients openly. People like that never think the help is paying attention.”
His gaze dropped to Ellis. “But this? This is your fault. You should have told him you weren’t his client.”
“I didn’t want to.”
“Typical Rohan,” Jean threw his hands up. “You see something you want and just take it, never mind who gets hurt in the process.”
“As opposed to running away and hiding in a brothel while your family thinks you’re at boarding school?” Lucas shot back.
“Fuck you, Moreau.”
Lucas twisted in his seat, fixing Jean with a hard stare. “You sat at that desk and watched them hurt Ellis.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Jean asked, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. “I tried to stop them! Donovan said he’d make sure I was next if I didn’t shut up. Ellis—” Jean’s voice caught. “Ellis begged me to stay quiet, to not make it worse.” His hands were shaking now. “I wanted to help. But what could I do?”
“Something,” Lucas growled, turning back around.
