Double Dealing: A Menage Romance(36)

"Poor choice of words on our part," Felix said apologetically. "It’s not technically a house," he finished, pointing to a barge on the river. "This is our house within Paris. Francois and I thought that you would enjoy a day or two here before we go to the Rhone Valley."

"You live in a houseboat?" I asked, and Francois shook his head.

"A barge, technically. While French barges can be powered, this one has no motor, and must be towed if we want it taken in for repairs or maintenance. Speaking of which, Felix, you did call for the annual maintenance, right?”

"Yes, before Charani came up here to visit," Felix said. He shouldered his bag as well as mine and led the way to the barge. "It was done before she arrived I think."

"Who is Charani?" I asked. There was so much I still had to learn about them. It wasn't that they were unwilling to share information, they answered everything I could think of with candor. But, growing up as the children of an international art thief and then going on to their own career, they weren’t the type to volunteer personal information unless I asked them directly.

"My mother," Francois said with a smile. "You’ll have a chance to meet her and Felix's mother soon."

I smiled and shrugged as we crossed the gangplank onto the barge. "Any advice? I'm not sure how to handle that part. I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that I'm with two men who are half brothers, yet were born minutes apart."

"Keep an open mind," Francois advised, keeping me in suspense as to what exactly that meant.





Chapter 16





Felix




Despite Jordan's enthusiasm for seeing Paris and taking a nap on the flight from Mexico, spending nearly sixteen hours in various airports, airplanes, and buses had exhausted her. Seeing that the sun was setting, she decided to go to bed early. I helped her into the main bed, tucking the blankets around her. “You know, I’m falling in love with you," I whispered as her eyes fluttered and she yawned. “And you know what? I don’t think I’ll ever tire of saying it.”

“And I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing it," Jordan said, kissing my fingertips while she wormed her body around under the covers. After nearly a month in Baja California, I had come to enjoy the warm days and relatively pleasant nights. While it wasn’t snowing in Paris when we landed, there was some crusted snow in the lee of the surrounding buildings and streets. The barge as well was not the best-insulated location we had, but it would serve for a few days. “Come to bed with me?” Jordan asked.

"Mmmm, mon ami, if I did that, I wouldn’t want to do much sleeping. And as enjoyable as that sounds, you need to rest,” I replied, kissing her cheek. It was true, and something that had unsettled me at first, but was now something I enjoyed. Being with Jordan, I was able to tap into the depths of my soul that I had never found before, to find a passion that nobody else had ever brought out in me.

Jordan smiled sleepily and nodded, closing her eyes and pulling the blanket up to cover her ear as she rolled to her side. Within less than two minutes, she was asleep, snoring lightly with her beautiful hair streaming out of the blanket. I watched her for another minute and then left, going back to the main living area of the barge.

Finding the living area empty, I stuck my head out of the hatch, looking for my brother. Francois had grabbed a folding chair from inside and set it up on the deck, sitting and watching the Paris skyline. In the lights of the surrounding buildings, his breath rose from his lips in a sparkling white smoke. "You seemed quiet this evening," I said. “You wanting privacy?"

He looked up from his chair, and I noticed he had a glass of wine in his hand. While neither of us were adverse to taking in wine, we almost never did on jobs, and I hadn't had any in at least four months. "Hmm? No, just thinking. It’s been a long time since we were last on the barge."

"Over a year," I said in reminiscence. It’d been winter the year before, as the two of us celebrated the New Year's holidays with our mothers. Paris has the best fireworks display in Europe for the New Year, outside of some parts of Italy that I didn't want to go to. The New Year is supposed to be cold, in my opinion. "I know we told Jordan that we come to Paris often, but not nearly as much as we used to."

"Not since Papa died," Francois replied. "I miss it, honestly. I've had some good times here in Paris. Someday, I'd like to really live here again."

I sighed, knowing what he was saying. "You know that’s difficult for me, Francois. While staying here for a while is nice, I can’t abandon my duties to the rest of the family in the homeland."

"We're Romani, Felix. Why can our people not move on to France? It's not like we're not Gypsies anyway. It's in our blood, remember?"

I sighed again. It was an argument we'd had for a long time, and one that I doubted would be settled anytime soon. "Some of the Romani have given up the old ways. Their connection to Albania, Greece and Macedonia is nearly as strong as that to their Romani heritage. And those that do hold to the old ways, many of them are too fixed to adapt to a country like France.”

“Well, it’s not like they’re living a great life in Ioannina or Vlore. So many of them are barely above being classified as working-poor that one bad economic wind and they're back to running scams on tourists to make ends meet,” Francois returned.