Confessions: Julien (Confessions Series Book 2)

by Ella Frank

  “Are you serious?”

  “I am.”

  Robbie scoffed. “Clearly you ignored him. Let me guess, you asked him out on a date instead?”

  Julien gave Robbie a stunned look. How on earth did he know that? It was as if Robbie was so well attuned to Julien that he already knew who he was without further explanation. Julien had only ever met one other who’d known him that well that fast—the man he’d ended up marrying.

  “I did,” Julien finally answered. “Don’t ask me why. It was clear that Priest wanted nothing to do with me. But I’d been taking stupid risks for months leading up to then, and it seemed no worse than getting drunk and arrested. What was the worst he could do? Say no? Doubtful. I knew he was interested in me.”

  A smile slowly curved Robbie’s lips. “So cocky. I love it.”

  “Priest might be good at denying himself what he wants. But his body language told a whole other story.”

  “Oh my God. I know, right? Whenever he used to argue with me, he was always staring at my mouth. I totally knew he wanted to kiss it or fuck it. He wasn’t fooling anyone,” Robbie said, and then laughed with devious glee. “Sooo, what did he say when you asked him out? I bet it was something totally jackassy, wasn’t it?”

  “Oui,” Julien said, floored again by just how intuitive Robbie was when it came to them. “It most certainly was. But then, we wouldn’t want Priest any other way, would we, princesse?”

  “THIS ISN’T WHERE I dropped you last time.”

  Julien looked over at his driver, Priest, who sat behind the wheel of his flashy import with a scowl on his face as he navigated the streets leading them up to Bel Air Road. He’d had the same dour expression for the past thirty minutes, ever since the police officer had opened Julien’s jail cell and set him free, and he reminded Julien of a statue—a silent, scowling statue.

  “I know,” Julien said, and then pointed to the next street. “Take a left here.”

  Priest turned where he was told and continued along the road that bisected the mansions up on this particular stretch, and Julien knew it was now or never to work out a way to see Priest again, or he was going to be tossed out on his ass before he knew it, and that would be the end of that.

  “Have you ever been up here before?” Julien asked, as they passed by several gated driveways.

  “No.”

  Julien smirked at the one-word response. “Impressed?”

  Priest slid a look his way and said, “Less and less with every passing second.”

  Julien laughed and wasn’t really sure why he found this man so amusing…or intriguing. It was obvious Priest didn’t like him, not even a little bit, but… “I like you, Mr. Priest.”

  “It’s Mr. Priest-ley. And the feeling is not mutual, I assure you.”

  Julien ran his eyes down Priest’s profile and lingered on his stern lips before he murmured, “Ça le sera.”

  “What was that?”

  “What?”

  “What you just said?”

  Julien pointed out the windshield at a driveway with iron gates and lights flanking either side of it. “You can pull in just here.”

  Priest brought the car to a halt in the drive, the headlights illuminating the winding road that led up to a mansion on the hill. Julien went to open the door, but before he could, Priest reached out and took hold of his arm, halting him.

  “I asked you what you said back there. You have a nasty habit of switching to French when you’re being a smartass.”

  Julien lowered his eyes to the hand on his arm. Jesus, it felt as though he was connected to an electrical socket with the energy coursing through him at Priest’s touch. “I also switch to French when I’m turned on. Ce que je suis en ce moment précis.”

  Priest arched a cool eyebrow and removed his hand, then he looked out the windshield to the gates up ahead.

  “Whose place is this?” he asked, ignoring Julien’s words and the obvious sexual tension that crackled and sparked between the two of them like a live wire.

  Julien shook his head, more disappointed than he realized he would be at the dismissal, and then pushed open the door and climbed out. As he shut it behind himself and headed toward the gates, he heard a second car door open but didn’t stop.

  “Mr. Thornton, I asked you a question,” Priest called out, as Julien reached the iron fence, grabbed a hold of the bars, and then scaled it before jumping down and landing on the other side.

  The crunch of gravel underfoot had Julien turning to see Priest storming toward the gate, and when he reached it, Julien came up to the other side opposite him.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Priest said. “I just bailed you out of jail. I don’t relish the idea of getting another phone call in an hour because you’ve been picked up for breaking and entering someone’s home.”

  Julien laughed and found it surprising that out of all the people, it was this man who had made him do so again. How was it that around Priest he remembered how to breathe? How to stop being so…sad all the time? “Watch out, monsieur. You almost sound worried about me.”

  “Hardly,” Priest said, and wrapped his hands around the bars of the gate. “I’m just sick of looking at you through iron bars.”

  Julien stepped in close until the only thing that prevented them from being toe to toe was the gate. “Then maybe next time we meet, we’ll have to do it with nothing between us.”

  Priest’s jaw ticked as he scanned Julien’s face, the headlights of his car lighting the two of them up as though they were actors on a stage.

  “You’re trying my patience, Mr. Thornton. Whose house is this?”

  Julien wanted to ask what happened when Priest’s patience ran out, but instead said, “If I tell you that, my mystique will vanish and the likelihood you’ll want to see me again will vastly drop.”

  “Trust me,” Priest said, “that isn’t dependent on the answer to this question.”

  Julien let his eyes move to Priest’s mouth, and he wondered how it would feel to have it dominating his own. He imagined Priest would kiss the way he talked—arrogantly. That he would take what he wanted. Would shove his tongue deep inside Julien’s mouth and demand a response.

  In fact, Julien would lay bets that Priest would demand a lot from anyone he fucked, and while that had never appealed to him in the past, the thought of being taken by this man made Julien’s cock hard as a rock. It also explained why he did what he did next. “If I tell you whose house this is, will you have lunch with me tomorrow?”

  Priest released his hold on the bars and took a step back, slipping his hands into his pockets as though he didn’t trust them out in the open. “Excuse me?”

  “Lunch? As in food? Will you eat with me tomorrow?”

  “Why?”

  Julien now wrapped his hands around the bars where Priest had been holding and leaned in to say, “Because it’s either that or I break another law to see you again.”

  Priest’s eyes narrowed to slits, and then he walked back to the gate and covered Julien’s hands with his own.

  Putain, Julien thought as he sucked in a breath. What is it about this man? He wanted him in ways Julien had never experienced before.

  “I don’t know what’s going through your head right now, Mr. Thornton,” Priest said, and his voice was low and direct and made Julien’s cock ache. “But I don’t date criminals. So if that’s what you want, a date, then you need to turn your life around. Find something you love, or at least like better than yourself right now, and get your shit together. Once you do that, then come see me, and I’ll give you exactly what you’re asking for.”

  Julien’s breathing was coming fast now, and he wasn’t sure if it was from arousal or irritation. Likely a bit of both. “And what is that?”

  Priest ran his gaze over Julien’s face and then said, “A fucking that will make you forget whatever it is you’re running from. A night that will remind you that you’re alive. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s why you do all
of this? To feel alive again?”

  Julien stared into Priest’s eyes and suddenly found it difficult to swallow. How had he turned the tables on him so fast? How could Priest know exactly what he was thinking by this one short conversation?

  “You’re incredibly arrogant, monsieur. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Oui,” Priest said, completely throwing Julien off. “And you’re incredibly reckless—lost and reckless. That’s a dangerous combination. One that usually winds a person up dead.”

  Julien went to pull his hands back, but Priest tightened his over the top, holding him captive.

  “Whose place is this?”

  This time, Julien didn’t hesitate to answer. “My parents’.”

  Priest’s eyes went beyond Julien’s shoulder to the house, and then he removed his hands and said, “Stay out of trouble, Mr. Thornton.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then don’t call me.” Priest turned and walked back to his car. “You know my deal. You want me, then make an effort, and you just might get me…”

  “GOD,” ROBBIE SAID, his mouth hanging open. “I have never met anyone with balls as big as Priest’s. He’s so…so…”

  “Everything you’re thinking, oui,” Julien agreed. “But you like it as much as I do. Don’t you?”

  “Well, yeah,” Robbie said, and rolled his eyes. “But it’s so infuriating at times.”

  “Oh, I agree with that. After he said that to me I remember thinking, One day I’m going to make that man beg to go on a date with me.”

  “And did you?”

  “Remember when I told you that Priest has only ever worked hard for one other’s attention before you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Believe me, he eventually begged for a date. But we’ll talk about that some other time.”

  “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

  Julien grinned at Robbie’s cheeky tone. “Maybe you should ask Priest about it sometime.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “Make sure I’m there when you do,” Julien said as he brushed his lips over Robbie’s, sealing their devious little plan with a kiss. Then he pointed to the spinach on the shelf and said, “I’m surprised you picked this, considering your recent aversion to greens.”

  Robbie examined the leafy vegetable he’d clearly forgotten about, and then, as though a light bulb went off in his head, he raised his hand and said, “No. Wait a minute. I know what I want to make.”

  “And what’s that? Tell me.”

  Robbie walked off down the aisle where all the cheeses were, and when he came back holding a block of Gruyere, he said, “I want to cook your most ‘meaningful’ meal.”

  At Robbie’s words, Julien froze, and like a freight train running right over the top of him, the memory of what Robbie was talking about hit Julien out of nowhere, draining all joy from him.

  “Julien?”

  Robbie’s voice sounded miles away as Julien reached out and gripped one of the shelves in the fridge, and suddenly the voice of Graham Boyd, the host from Chef Master, was in his ears…

  “Tonight on Chef Master you’re going to cook a dish that reminds you of the person you love the most. I want to see you pour your heart and soul into whatever you make, and I want to taste the love. You have sixty minutes to make your most ‘meaningful’ meal and wow me, and your time starts now…”

  “JULIEN?” ROBBIE SAID, and a gentle hand on Julien’s arm shook him back to reality. “Julien.”

  Robbie’s voice was sharper now, and Julien squeezed his eyes tight, trying to erase the image in his head before he refocused on the man in front of him. “Pardon? Sorry. You caught me off guard.”

  Robbie’s worried eyes searched Julien’s face. “Don’t apologize,” he said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked for—”

  “Non,” Julien interrupted. “There’s nothing you can’t ask of me. I’m fine.”

  Robbie bit into his lip as Julien tried to banish the anxiety threatening to squash him like one would a bug, but still he felt it twitch inside him as though it wasn’t quite dead. Then he forced a smile on his face, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt.

  “Okay,” Julien said. “My most meaningful meal, huh? And you remember what that was?”

  The smile that tugged at Robbie’s lips was almost shy as he gave a little laugh and said, “Hello, when are you going to understand that you should probably be scared that you’re standing in a lockable room with me right now?”

  Julien’s lips twitched. Robbie’s dramatics were exactly what he needed to get his mind off the thoughts trying to swallow him whole. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

  “Brave, brave man,” Robbie said, but then he grew serious. “Of course I remember this meal. It was the cheese soufflé. It earned you your first win. You made yours with sharp cheddar, pepper jack, and Gruyere, and they looked mouthwatering. That’s what I’d like to learn to cook with you today. If you’ll teach me.”

  Julien had known that Robbie was a fan of Chef Master, but was more than a little impressed that he remembered the meals he’d cooked right down to the fine details.

  “Of course I’ll teach you,” Julien said, even though he hadn’t cooked this particular meal since the very day Robbie was referring to.

  “Thank you,” Robbie said, and his eyes softened with an understanding that Julien wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge. One, he knew, he just might drown in if he let himself.

  “Right. Let’s find the rest of the ingredients and get to work on teaching you how to make my famous cheese soufflé, shall we?”

  Chapter Five

  CONFESSION

  There’s no better feeling than

  knowing you belong, and trusting that

  one hundred percent.

  “JULIEN? JULIEN? WAKE up.”

  The soft voice had Julien’s eyes popping open to see his sister kneeling on the floor by the side of his bed.

  There was barely any light in his room as Julien shifted to his side so he could peer out his open balcony doors. The sun had not yet risen. Dieu, what time was it? “What are you doing up so early, ma petite poulette?”

  A grin bright enough to light up his entire bedroom curved Jacquelyn’s lips. “Cooking.”

  Cooking? Julien yawned and sat up, and when his feet hit the cold floor beside her, he cursed and looked at the clock over on his dresser—five thirty. Merde, she was mad.

  “Why are you cooking so early?” he asked, his tone clearly expressing just how pained he was about being woken. “And why are you waking me?”

  “Because, silly…it’s your fourteenth birthday.”

  Julien reached out to tug on the thick braid that hung over her right shoulder. “Yours too, petite sœur. Still doesn’t explain why you’ve suddenly gone crazy and are running around before the crack of dawn.”

  Jacquelyn got to her feet, her sundress swishing around her knees as she walked back toward his bedroom door and said over her shoulder, “Oui, it does. Because I finally did it.”

  Julien cocked his head to the side and she laughed in pure delight, that smile of hers turning smug.

  “I finally cooked the parfait cheese soufflé.” Jacquelyn grinned like a loon. “And you, mom, and Aurélien said I’d never get it. Psh! Just you wait, Julien Thornton. You’ll never taste another like it. Not even yours are this good—”

  THE SOUND OF keys in the front door of the condo had Jacquelyn’s smile vanishing from Julien’s mind, and he found himself back in the kitchen staring at the bowls of cheese he’d been getting together for Robbie, who was currently sorting through the clothes they’d picked up from his nonna’s house on the way home tonight.

  Julien’s hands were braced on the counter, and his knuckles were white with how tight he was holding on to the granite, and as the door opened and shut, announcing Priest’s arrival, Julien tried to shake himself out of the memory that had just snuck up on him.

  He focused on the smooth sou
nd of Sinatra filling the room as he stared into the white ceramic bowl of pepper jack, and reminded himself: It was only a memory. She’s not really here. She never will be again. But even as he told himself that, Julien could see Jacquelyn’s smile, could hear her laughter, and he could feel the soft strands of her hair as if it had all happened yesterday—instead of sixteen years ago.

  As the sound of Priest’s shoes got closer on the hardwood, Julien reached for the Gruyere and a knife, and concentrated on chopping it up into cubes in an effort to try and appear normal when his husband finally got to him.

  Dieu, as if Priest didn’t have enough to deal with on his own right now, he hardly needed Julien to have one of his infamous breakdowns. So snap out of it, Julien ordered himself.

  But when he heard Priest put his briefcase and keys down, Julien remained as he was, with his back to the man who could always see straight through him, and decided to give himself a few seconds more to try and get himself under control.

  WHEN PRIEST OPENED the door to the condo, he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. When he’d left this morning, there had been an air of expectation that whatever had happened last night would be further discussed when he returned, but he still didn’t know any more about the situation than he had when he’d left.

  No, to find that out, he was going to have to do some digging of his own. Some very careful digging. And until then, he didn’t see much point in dragging them all through this mess, not when they had something much more immediate going on in their lives, and it was fast approaching: their trip back to L.A., the one they still had to ask Robbie about.

  Priest shut the door behind him, and as he walked up the hall, he heard the sound of Sinatra filling the living room. Julien. Always making sure everyone around him is okay, Priest thought, but forgets to look after himself.