Lucien heard his uncle Mathieu on the back patio before he could see him. Ryenne helped him down the stairs even though the hot shower had loosened up his muscles enough he no longer needed her. But he’d decided not to tell her. Not yet.

Mathieu’s booming voice stopped Ryenne at the bottom of the stairs. She raised her eyebrows.

Lucien smiled. “It’s okay. He’s all bark and no bite.”

She snorted.

“In fact, although he’s loud, it’s not really a bark. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

She gave a little nod and wrapped her arm around his waist.

He leaned down to whisper into her still-wet hair. “Really, he’ll love you.” He almost made another stupid comment like he had the night before, but he didn’t want to jeopardize their newfound peace and affection.

The way she’d avoided him all day had left him feeling confused and sad. He’d almost convinced himself she’d had enough of him and Paris and shifters, that she was ready to leave them all behind and go home. The thought twisted his insides. He wasn’t ready for her to leave.

On the back patio, Lucien’s mother presided over a tray with a variety of bottles, an ice bucket, and glasses of different shapes and sizes. She looked up at their approach and straightened.

“Ryenne, this is my brother-in-law, Mathieu, brother to my late husband, Michel,” she said. “As you may know, Michel and Mathieu took over the Malraux business together after their father died.”

Ryenne stepped forward, her hand outstretched. “It’s so nice to meet you, Monsieur Malraux.”

Mathieu looked her up and down and a smile broke over his face. He vigorously shook her hand and wrapped her in a hug. Her wide eyes found Lucien’s gaze and he smiled. He knew Mathieu would love her.

“Oh, Ryenne, it is so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” He released her and she stumbled back.

“You have?”

Lucien imagined Ryenne’s confusion and worry about what Mathieu may have heard from his mother and Emma. Lucien caught his mother giving Mathieu a disapproving glance.

Lucien knew his mother had had a hard time accepting Ryenne. A human, an American. And she had made her claim obvious that what happened in Kenya was all Ryenne’s fault. That Ryenne had been targeted. But Stephen Muteti had hired Lucien, too, so clearly, the Malraux had been part of the Fangs’ plan for months, if not longer.

But his mother was always a perfect and gracious French host. “Ryenne, can I offer you an apéritif? A martini, maybe?”

Ryenne glanced at the bottle his mother held of a red liquid, and Lucien jumped in to clear up the confusion. “Not a martini, the clear drink made with vodka or gin, made famous by James Bond,” he explained. “This is red vermouth, made by the Martini & Rossi company, so we call it martini here.”

“Sure, I’ll try some,” she said.

Lucien nodded at his mother, who poured them two glasses.

As they sat together on a wrought iron bench, Ryenne leaned over and whispered, “I see what you mean now about not having to worry about your uncle.”

A twinge of guilt passed through Lucien. He’d forgotten to warn her about how expansive Mathieu was, and to expect a hug, something she’d already learned not to expect from the French. “Which makes you more uncomfortable, a hug or all the kissing of cheeks?”

The flurry of noise and activity accompanying the arrival of Emma, Pascal, and their two kids, seemed to save Ryenne from answering. Lucien saw her sigh. He took pity on her and turned to his nieces, scooping one of them into his arms and spinning her around.

“Moi aussi, moi aussi,” the older one, Aurélie, clamored. At six years old, she was getting big for such games, but not too big yet.

He caught Ryenne watching him with a funny expression on her face. Was she touched by how close he was to his nieces or worried because she wasn’t ready for kids? Maybe she didn’t want kids at all. Lucien didn’t know. They’d never had this conversation because they’d been busy having fun and fighting for their lives.

Soon, Françoise invited everyone to the long table, deeper within the backyard, set for ten. Dany brought out two tartes aux tomates and Lucien rubbed his hands together.

“Tomates? Is this the dish Inspector Côtard said he misses?” Ryenne asked.

Lucien nodded. “Wait until you taste this. It’s summer in a bite.”

“Yes, your mother told me you saw him the other day after the unfortunate incident at the café.” Mathieu took a plate of tomato tart from Dany. “How is the old devil?”

“Looking good. He has his hands full with these Fang-related robberies,” Lucien responded.

At the mention of the Fangs, Lucien’s mother’s face went rigid.

“Ah yes, the Fangs,” Mathieu said.

“What are the Fangs?” asked his four-year-old niece, Sophie.

“Nothing,” Pascal said. He attempted to distract his girls by offering them lemonade.

“They’re the scoundrels who stabbed your uncle Lucien,” Emma said at the same time.

The girls’ eyes went wide and they turned toward their uncle. Lucien gave them a big smile. “But you see I am just fine.”

“We don’t know it was the Fangs,” Guy said. “We didn’t see who...” He glanced at the girls. “We didn’t see who did it.”

Françoise turned a furious face on him. “How can you say that? Who else would it be? They have us in their sights now. They may never give up.”

“Maman.” Lucien made a calming gesture with his hands. Clearly, now wasn’t the time to bring up his slower healing. He had begun to suspect the knife had been coated with something. He’d given his shirt from last night to Pascal and asked him to analyze the stains.

“I know you’re very sure about the identity of the culprit,” Mathieu said. “But what if it wasn’t them?”

“Of course it was them,” Emma said in harsh tones.

“Yes, okay, but what if it wasn’t? Who else could it have been?” Mathieu asked.

Guy entered the fray once again. “The Malraux have been in business here for a long time. Surely, you’ve made enemies along the way.”

“A business rival?” Mathieu asked, considering.

“Or it could be the boyfriend of one of Lucien’s ex-lovers. There have been plenty of those.” Guy elbowed Lucien in his good side.

Lucien glanced at Ryenne, worried she’d be upset by talk of former lovers, especially considering her reaction to meeting Chantal. But Ryenne’s face was open and amused.

“Really?” she asked. “Exactly how many ex-lovers are we talking about?”

“Oh, hundreds, at least,” Emma shouted from the other end of the table, closer to their mother who held court at the head. “Remember that girl in secondary school whose father caught you in her bedroom?”

Lucien hid his face in his hands.

“Tell me more,” Ryenne said.

Dany opened her mouth, but Lucien waved his hands. “No, no, please. We don’t need to go into ancient history.”

“But you have to admit, dear brother, there have been enough people you’ve angered over the years,” Dany said. “Fathers, boyfriends, brothers.”

“Youthful indiscretions, I promise you,” he said in a low voice to Ryenne.

She grinned. “No worries. I’ve had a few, as well.”

He raised his eyebrows. He’d like to tease those stories out of her when they were alone. Since they weren’t alone, he turned to Guy. “Don’t forget I’ve known you longer than my sister has, and can name just as long a list of your former lovers.”

Guy looked sheepish.

“And not to mention you, dear sister,” Lucien said to Dany. “My room may have been up on the third floor, but I could hear below me just fine.”

Dany didn’t even blush, she turned up the wattage on her grin, and took Guy’s beefy arm. “But no one compares to you, mon amour.”

Ryenne leaned close and Lucien got a whiff of the lilac scent of her shampoo, pushing all other thoughts away. The smell reminded him of their time in the shower earlier and he got hard.

“Should they be talking like this in front of the kids?” Ryenne whispered.

He laughed. “Luckily, they don’t understand English.”

Her eyes widened. “So, every time I’ve spoken to them, they haven’t understood me? They looked like they did.”

“They’re very good little actresses.”

She huffed out a breath.

Pascal, who was on Ryenne’s other side, turned to her. “They understood enough to know what you were saying to them. But this conversation is way over their heads.”

Mathieu brought the subject back to Lucien’s attack. “It could be someone who wants personal revenge against Lucien or someone who wants to get back at the business. Anyone else?”

No one spoke up.

“While all of those things are certainly possible,” Mathieu said, “I will admit the Fangs make the most sense.”

“Thank you,” Françoise said, hands tucked primly under her chin.

“What are we going to do about it?” Dany asked.

“I would start with Charles,” Ryenne said.

Everyone stared at her.

Pride swelled in Lucien’s chest along with the feeling in his pants.

“We know Charles works for Lord Enterprises,” Ryenne continued. “We know he wanted to recruit Lucien, if not the whole Malraux family. I think we should pay him a visit.”