Oh gosh, I'm so late, hold on *ahem*
✨💖DADTHIEU!!!💖✨
Verity should have know that Chris would be safe with dear old Dad.
Pretty rotten trick on Cross's part, especially the photo of the morning after. 😂
“Goblin,” Cross supplied with a grin.
Absolutely rotten man. 😂
Poor Chris, stressing about Matthieu and his shotgun.
It's so nice to breathe for just a moment, to see these two in a setting where they can relax.
Crossfire - Chapter Eight
Pairing: Jaguar Villain Tom Hiddleston + OFC
Warnings: None
Length: 2.5k
Summary: In which we meet some new characters, and some familiar faces return (yes, @maple-seed he's here!!)
Chapter List
Full Master List of all works
Verity was almost vibrating with nervous anxiety as Cross navigated the sleek car along the winding lanes of the Loire valley. She’d removed the blonde wig and was now running her fingers through her short, dark curls in a way that suggested self-soothing rather than any real attempt to restore order.
Not taking his eyes off the road, Cross reached out and gently unwound her fingers, but her hand balled into a fist and she pulled away.
Attention fixed on the dashboard in front of her, she glared at the wood veneer. “If anything has happened to Chris, I’ll…”
“Nothing has happened to him, he’s fine.”
“How would you know? You kidnapped him, dumped him in the middle of nowhere, in a foreign country with your gangster friends–”
Cross snorted with laughter. “That’s Mathieu you’re talking about.”
Her head whipped round. “Which part of my sentence was incorrect?”
“You liked Mathieu,” He replied in a placating tone.
“I’ve met Mathieu twice. Hardly the basis for a long term friendship.”
“But you liked him.”
Some of her anger dissipated at this and he watched her out of the corner of his eye as she tried and failed to summon a counter argument.
In the end she just folded her arms and sank back in the bucket seat with a huff. “I just want to know he’s okay.”
“And I’m telling you, he’s fine. As right as rain when I last checked in.”
Verity tilted her head and frowned. “You check in?”
“Of course.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There wasn’t anything to report.”
“Would still have been nice to know,” she grumbled under her breath.
“Well, you’ll see for yourself soon enough. We’re almost there.”
They turned a corner and Verity’s mouth fell open. “That’s where we headed?”
“Yes.”
“You said - and I quote - Mathieu has a little place in the country.”
Cross gestured to the fields on either side. “Countryside.” He nodded to the building ahead of them, “Mathieu’s place. Exactly what I said.”
“It’s a castle!!”
“I’ll admit the term ‘little’ is entirely subjective.”
“You never told me Mathieu lived in a fucking castle!!”
“Technically it’s a chateau, and in practical terms it’s a highly successful vineyard.”
“It’s a sodding castle,” she muttered. “It’s even got turrets!”
The man himself was waiting for them as Cross pulled off the drive and parked under a tree.
Verity was scrambling for the handle before the car had even come to a complete halt, but she hesitated as he approached with his arms spread in welcome and a devastating smile on his handsome face.
Ignoring her reticence, Mathieu reached out to gently touch one of the dark curls framing her face. “You changed your hair, little one. It suits you. You look like…” he broke off, searching for a word. “Le lutin?” he said, looking to Cross for assistance.
“Goblin,” Cross supplied with a grin.
Mouth open in obvious outrage Verity was glaring at both men, clearly trying to summon an appropriate response when a peel of laughter broke the tension.
Cross turned to greet the beautiful woman joining them, but she held up a hand to halt the embrace, her attention fixed firmly on Verity. “He means pixie.” She raised her face to examine Verity from under the wide brim of her sunhat, “And he is correct. It suits you, very chic!”
“Camille,” Cross said, stepping forward, arms outstretched, “You look as beautiful as the day we met.”
“While you, by contrast, are looking like a disreputable scoundrel.” She pulled back a few inches to smooth down the collar of his leather jacket and then gave his shoulder a fond pat. “You wear it well.”
“I think you always had a soft spot for scoundrels.” He cast a look back over his shoulder at Mathieu. “It would explain why you’ve put up with that one for so many years.” He gave her a wicked grin and swept her into his arms, spinning her around until she shrieked with laughter. Setting her back on her feet, her straightened her hat and said in a stage whisper, “When are you going to leave him and run away with me?”
Mathieu slammed the boot in mock outrage. “Stop flirting with my wife!”
“Can you blame me?”
“Well, no, bien sûr. But perhaps you should save it until all the introductions are complete?”
As the attention suddenly turned in her direction, Verity took a wary step back.
Cross extended a hand, a clear invitation to join the small group of old friends, but she twisted her arm away and glared at him.
“Where’s Chris? You said I could see him.”
Camille blinked, looking slightly surprised by Verity’s tone.
“He will be here any moment,” she said, “he’s just helping Sandrine with the refreshments.” Turning, she gestured towards a group of chairs under a delicate, rose coloured Acer. “It’s such a beautiful day, I thought we might sit outside as we–”
Her explanation was cut short as Verity gave a shriek and launched herself up the gravel path towards the main house. Following her trajectory Cross could see two figures emerging from the kitchen doorway.
Chris looked relaxed and happy, though his posture tensed noticeably when he spotted Verity hurtling towards him. Only his long ingrained bar-manager instincts saved them from catastrophe as he smoothly handed the tray he was carrying to his companion a second before Verity barrelled into him like a guided missile.
Arms wrapped around his neck, Verity buried her face in shoulder. “Oh thank God, you’re alright.” She turned her face to shoot an icy look at Cross. “When he said he’d kidnapped you, I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
Aware of the accusatory glares from their hosts, Cross coughed and gave a light shrug. “I never said I kidnapped him.”
Not releasing her grip on Chris, Verity rounded on him, “Yes you did!”
“No.” Cross said, with pedantic precision. “No I did not. I said it took me a long time to track him down. Which it did. And that I thought it wisest to get him out of the country. Which it was. I never said I took him against his will.”
Verity gaped at him for a moment, outrage written clearly across her features. “But… but the picture?!”
Still half-throttled by her embrace, Chris glanced in confusion between the others. “What picture?”
“Ah, yes.” Cross gave a self-deprecating chuckle, “I did show her the photo from when you first got here… the morning after you arrived.”
“Oh god, the morning after!” Despite his colouring, Chris turned distinctly green at the memory. Placing his hands on Verity’s shoulders he gave an apologetic grimace. “I may have drunk rather a lot of wine when I first got here. The following morning–” he gave a shudder, “I swear to god, Verity, I thought I was going to die. I haven’t had a hangover like that in years.”
Stepping back she punched his shoulder, “You were drunk!!”
“Ow! Yes. It had been a long day and then I got here and everyone was so–”
She punched him again. “I’ve been going out of my mind with worry and you’ve been sitting around in the sunshine getting hammered on cheap french plonk?”
“I will have you know, it is very expensive french plonk.” Mathieu interjected with a grin as he carried the suitcases past them, into the house.
“And he hasn’t been ‘sitting around’” Camille added, “He has been very helpful around the vineyard while the boys were away and Mathieu has been so busy,” she hesitated for a moment, “with his other business. I don’t know what I would have done without him this summer.”
With an elegant wave of her hand, she gestured to a small grouping of wicker chairs set in the shade under a broad tree. “Why don’t we sit, then we can have a drink and make some proper introductions.”
Cross led the way, and sprawled into one of the chairs with a grateful sigh. Camille followed his example and once Verity, still clinging to Chris’s hand, had joined them, Cross nodded to the woman on his left.
“Verity, this is Camille, Mathiu’s long-suffering wife.” He shifted his attention to the young woman, probably in her early twenties who was carrying a heavily laden tray of glasses and bottles. “And this is Sandrine, their daughter. Everyone, this is Verity.”
As Sandrine approached, Chris broke off from his conversation and leapt to his feet. Taking the tray from her, he placed it carefully on the low table.
Cross caught a brief frown flicker across Verity’s face. What had prompted that? She should be all smiles now that she was finally reunited with her foster brother and could see that no harm had come to him. Deciding to ignore it, for the moment, he turned back to Camille.
“Where are the boys?” he asked.
“In London,” she replied darkly. “Mathieu sent them to keep an eye on things. The new Eighth Circle owner is making a few waves.”
Cross couldn’t suppress the surge of outrage and jealousy that swept through him. That was his club and the idea of anyone taking over and making changes filled him with fury.
“What has he been up to?” he asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.
But Mathieu had returned and interrupted the question. “No, no talk of business. We will have plenty of time to discuss that later. For now, let us enjoy the sunshine and the company.” He uncorked a bottle of wine and began generously filling the glasses. “It’s been too long, my friend,” he said, handing a glass to Cross, “you’ve changed.”
Cross ran a self-conscious hand through his now dark curls. “Verity’s work. We assumed they’d be watching the airports and a disguise might be in order. She may have gotten carried away. I did try to curb her wilder suggestions, but…”
Mathieu laughed, “Sometimes it’s not worth the argument. You’ll have to learn to pick your battles.”
Camile raised one perfectly shaped brow and Mathieu dropped a kiss on her cheek as he pressed a glass into her hand, by way of an apology. She gave a sniff and then redirected her attention to Verity. “How was your flight? Not too rough I hope.”
Watching Verity nearly choke on her wine as her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, Cross tried valiantly not to laugh. “It was surprisingly pleasant,” he murmured in response and, thankfully, Camille dropped the subject, but not before giving him an arched look.
As the conversation slipped in and out of French, and then drifted to old reminiscences that did not include her, Verity sank back in her chair, watching the interactions but taking no part. Feeling excluded, she shifted her attention to Chris.
Cross hadn’t been lying, Chris looked well, in fact he looked better than she’d seen him in a long time: relaxed, happy and thoroughly at home. There was a confidence to him that hadn’t been there before, easily joining in with the chatter going on around them. Clearly, he had been enjoying his summer… and his new found friends. Damn it, he’d even learned some french! How was that possible?
As if still afraid that he was going to be stolen from her - perhaps not by force as she’d originally thought, but by charm and wine and the beautiful french countryside - she tightened her grip on his hand. Chris paused in whatever he was saying to flash her a quick smile and squeeze her fingers then he returned his attention to the younger woman on his other side.
Verity’s eyes narrowed as he leaned towards Sandrine, whispering something under his breath that made the girl giggle.
Perhaps it was more than the booze and ambience that was responsible for his happiness? She studied them from beneath lowered lids. They were very careful not to touch, always keeping clear space between them, but there was definitely something more than casual conversation sparking between them.
Well, it was about time he found someone, she told herself firmly, and Sandrine was gorgeous, long dark hair falling natural waves about her shoulders. Verity gave a sigh. She had imposed her own wants and needs on Chris for long enough, drawing him into her plans for revenge and putting him in any number of difficult, unpleasant and, at times, dangerous situations. It was time he got to make his own choices. But it still stung, just a little, to see so much of his attention directed elsewhere.
Once everyone’s glasses had been filled for the second time, Sandrine made her apologies and headed back up the gravel path to the house.
“Was it something I said?” Verity asked.
Camille smiled and shook her head. “She returns to university in a few days - her final term. And she is her father’s daughter, so just like him she leaves everything to the last moment. I’m not sure she’s even started her assignments, let alone her packing.”
Now that she once again had Chris’s full attention, she gave his arm a gentle tug, to pull him closer and whispered in his ear, “So, you and Sandrine, huh?”
Chris gave her a startled look, His eyes widening into a look of horror when he saw the expression on her face. Before she could say another word he grabbed her elbow and pulled her to her feet.
“Fancy a guided tour?” he asked, his grip on her arm told her that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Happy to escape the fond reunion taking place around her, and the invasive questioning that would inevitably follow, Verity allowed him to tow her away from the small gathering and over the brow of the hill, eager to ask some questions of her own.
Verity gasped in wonder as the hill side swept away from them, straight rows of vines climbing the slope towards them.
“Wow,” she said.
“Pretty spectacular view, right!” Chris said, “Now you understand why I was happy to stay.”
“Oh I don’t think your decision to stay had anything to do with view. Or not this view, at least.”
Chris cast a furtive look over his shoulder. “Shhhhh. Sometimes I think Mathieu has the vines bugged!”
“Are you telling me he doesn’t know!!”
“No, he doesn’t. And it needs to stay that way.”
“Why? Camille seems to think the sun shines out of your arse ‘Oh Chris has been such a help this summer…’ Maybe they’d be happy?”
“You weren’t there when Sandrine got back from University.” Chris shuddered at the memory. “Mathieu made the introductions, and made a big show of cleaning his shotgun the entire time.”
Suppressing a giggle, Verity wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Not big on subtlety, huh?”
“Let’s just say, he made himself very clear.”
Tucking herself against his side, she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. But you might need to take a little more care if you don’t want everyone knowing what you’re up to.”
Chris swallowed hard. “Is it that obvious?”
“It is to me. But that’s only because I know what your ‘I’m smitten’ face looks like.”
Next Chapter
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