Before he closed the door, Gillian took her bag from him and smiled. "Want to get a burger? I don't know about you, but I'm starving, and I know this great little dive in Brixton that sells amazing cheeseburgers."
With a sigh, Duff knew that he was about to piss off the American. "The answer is no, lovey," he replied, his Scottish accent thick. "John said you are to go back to the manor after you bought your dress, and that is exactly where I intend on taking you."
Gillian sat in stunned silence as Duff closed the door and came around the car to get in on the opposite side. When he closed his own door, she immediately asked, "Did you just tell me no? In case you have forgotten, I am a grown damn woman who does what she wants. You can call John and tell him we are eating a burger before heading back home."
Duff turned his head to hide his own smile as he motioned the driver of the car to go. His face was void of all emotion when he turned back to look at her and said, "John just went into a meeting and is not to be disturbed, sweetheart. If you really want a burger, I can call ahead and have Ramsey make you one at home. The man is a Michelin star chef after all. I think he can manage a burger and some fries."
Ignoring Duff's little speech, Gillian sat back in her seat and said to the driver, "Take us to Brixton, Adrian. That's an order."
Duff rolled his eyes and said to the driver in Spanish, "She's the new lady of the manor, mate, so do as she says. It's her pretty ass that will get the beating, not yours." The Scottish man then looked at Gillian and shrugged. "You want a burger from Brixton, then, by all means, let's get you a dirty little waffle. It's your funeral, lovey. When you eat standing up the next couple of days, just remember I warned you."
"Well, then, I suggest we not tell him about the burger run." Gillian smiled, licking her full, nude colored lips as she demurely crossed her legs. "John is in Germany, Duff. If we don't tell him, then he won't know we didn't follow the orders. It's a burger, my big protector, not nuclear secrets. You're telling me John is going to be pissed because we went out to eat? I don't believe it."
"Too late now, lovey. You've already set the crime into motion. Johnny didn't get to the top of the food chain by letting others step all over his scrota, and he won't let you just because he loves you. He's the man, you're the woman…remember that."
"That's so sexist, Duff McKay. I feel sorry for your future wife," Gillian replied as she played with the ring John had given her in France. Would John really be that angry at her for going to grab a bite to eat? Surely, he wouldn't. Again, she had all the guards with her and was not putting herself in any kind of danger. John clearly liked control of all things, but Duff was probably just trying to scare her. With a side glance at Duff, she asked, "Does this go back to that punishment crap you mentioned John dishing out earlier? I know he likes to threaten an ass whooping every now and then, but would he hurt me? I think you're just trying to freak me out."
With an arrogant grin on his handsome face, Duff vaguely repeated, "As I said earlier, Gillian, it's your funeral, and that's all I'm going to say. After all, I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."
"Asshole!" Gillian barked, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned away from Duff to stare out the window. Her annoyance quickly turned to happiness as they passed all the Christmas displays being set up and turned on. Gillian absolutely loved Christmas! Although she had never really had a family or friends to celebrate with, she decorated her apartment every year. Gillian also made a small meal for herself from scratch and unwrapped a present. Her thoughts immediately drifted to John and Patrick. Did the two men celebrate Christmas? She had not seen any decorations at Kenric Manor, but then it was only the second week of November. Would John allow her to decorate his home? A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through her body as she thought about sharing Christmas with the two men. It would be the first time in her life that she had a family. Maybe she could convince the two giants to create their own private winter wonderland.
"Don't be mad at me, lovey." Duff smiled as he put his arm around her shoulder. When she didn't acknowledge him, he asked, "What are you thinking about?"
"I was just thinking about Christmas and how much I enjoy it," Gillian replied, finally looking into Duff's mismatched, colored eyes. "I can't wait to see all of London lit up and decorated. The holiday seems to make everyone just a little nicer somehow. What about you? Do you celebrate Christmas?"
"No," Duff answered honestly. "Never had a reason to, actually."
"Oh," Gillian said, not expecting his response. "Did your folks celebrate it?"
"My mum was a heroin addicted prostitute who was more concerned about her next hit than she was about me," the Scottish man replied as he rubbed his bearded chin. "We barely had money for a loaf of bread, let alone presents and a tree. She died when I was three, so we didn't get to spend much time together."
"Duff, I'm so sorry. I didn't know," Gillian said as she put her hand lovingly on his knee to comfort him. She knew his life had been hard, but she could not have imagined how horrible it was. "When your mother died, is that when they put you in the orphanage with John and Patrick?"
"It was. I never knew my father, don't even know if my mum did, really. There was no one else who wanted me, so they sent me to St. Vincent."
"Did the orphanage celebrate Christmas? I would think, with it being a Catholic organization, they would."
"I can see why you would think that, but there was nothing godly about the priests who ran it. I do remember each Christmas, this group bringing us lads a tree, presents, the whole shebang. However, the moment they left, it was thrown in the fire and burned. Apparently, little bastards like us didn't deserve those things, or so they told us. After the orphanage was destroyed, the three of us were too focused on making our fortunes. We barely stopped to piss, let alone celebrate Christmas. Patrick said something once about starting up some type of holiday tradition, but nothing ever happened with that."
Gillian's heart ached for John, Patrick, and Duff. She felt the tears stinging her emerald eyes as the Scottish man told his story. She noticed that as Duff talked, he would not look at her. Gillian wanted to comfort him, but she wasn't sure if he wanted it. If Duff had grown up in such a horrible existence, then she could not even imagine what had happened to John and Patrick. She knew very little about their past, but she wanted to know so much more. Deciding to force herself on the Scotsman, Gillian wrapped her arms around one of his meaty biceps and laid her head on his shoulder. She felt Duff immediately relax into her touch, but she could tell by the look on his handsome face that he was done talking about the topic.
"You know, Duff, we can't change the past, but we can change today. I say, since none of us have ever really had a real Christmas, we do it up right this year. I can decorate the manor, go shopping for some presents, and cook a big dinner. Would you like that?"
Duff placed a tender kiss on Gillian's soft, black hair. John's woman was amazing! Could he ever be lucky enough to find a woman like her? Resting his head on hers, Duff smiled. "I would like that. The real question, though, is how would Johnny and Pat feel about it?"