Page 17 of Alaric's Hidden Gem

“Are you the adopted one?” I blurted out to Christian. “Oh, I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

When I looked closer, I saw his face had some lines or scars.

“I like her,” he said as his lips twisted into a smile.

“Thank you for your approval, Christian,” Alaric said in his usual droll yet scathing manner.

“You can come and live on my island if you get bored of my brother,” he said cheekily, but he wasn't looking at me. He kept his eyes on Alaric.

Everything happened so fast. Damien came towards me and pulled me into the house as I turned to watch Alaric and Christian fight. They were like a tornado, destroying everything in its path. My morbid curiosity made me watch as they bounced from one side of the garden to the next. What I really wanted to do was record them so I could slow it down to watch them.

I turned to face Damien to ask him a question, but he was staring into my eyes, and I snapped my fingers between our faces.

“That shit doesn't work on me,” I said, irritated from being a source of amusement for them.

“My apologies, I had to make sure. I’m rather fascinated,” he said with an apologetic smile and remorseful tone of voice. “Why don't we chat while they—work their differences out?”

I nodded because Alaric wasn't talkative, and I missed the social aspect of my work. I would take what I could get.

Chapter 15

Alaric

I grinned as I sat on Christian’s chest and repeatedly punched his face. He moved his head, and I punched through the patio tiles. When I tried to pull my fist back, Christian was out from under me and behind me, trying to get me into a chokehold. I reached for his shoulders and gripped his hoody to pull him down as I propelled my legs upward with all my might and flipped over to land on his back. I sat on his back while he chuckled.

“Fucker, I told you to keep away from her,” I growled.

“Oh, yeah? Who’s with her now?”

My head snapped back towards the patio, but other than the broken garden furniture, Gemma was nowhere in sight.

“Fuck,” I said, punching Christian on the back of his head before getting off him. One more blow to his head wouldn't make a difference to him. “I bet you didn't see that coming,” I muttered.

“Cunt,” Christian said, but I was already off him and walking inside the house.

Gemma was making herself some lunch while Damien sat on a stool chatting with her. I glanced back and forth between them because she was smiling and laughing with him.

“You were worried about the wrong brother,” Christian said with amusement in his voice as he walked past me to sit next to Damien. “My apologies, Gemma. It seems Alaric is a little sensitive about you, which is highly unusual.”

She stopped, whisking to glance at me in surprise. I ignored her and narrowed my eyes on how my brothers had arranged themselves around the four stools, leaving me with no room to sit down.

“Thanks for dropping by. I will walk you to your helicopter,” I said as I noticed half my shirt buttons were missing with my scuffle with Christian.

“Tell me a little about your family and how you ended up in Paris,” Damien said to Gemma.

“My parents live in England. I have one younger brother. There isn't much to say. I fell in love with art and then France. The language is beautiful, and I knew in my teens that I wanted to live in Paris one day.”

“You must have strong roots in England. Your surname is almost one thousand years old,” Damien said.

I watched as she poured the mixture from her bowl into a flat pan and turned the heat down.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“I believe we are a little over fifteen hundred years old.”

Gemma paused to place a glass lid over her eggs. Her eyes flicked around all three of us.

“You're that old?” she gasped.