“HEY, GIRL. WHAT are your thoughts on karaoke?” Shawna Ellison asked the second I answered the phone.
I dropped my pencil onto the notepad I’d been scribbling in, then sat back on the couch and curled my legs onto the cushion. It was rolling past nine o’clock and I hadn’t heard from Gideon yet. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign, considering he’d had an appointment with Dr. Petersen earlier.
The sun had set nearly an hour before, and I’d been trying not to think of my husband every five seconds since. Chatting with Shawna was a welcome distraction.
“Well,” I hedged, “since I’m tone deaf, my thoughts on singing in public are pretty much nonexistent. Why?”
In my head, I pictured the vibrant redhead who was quickly becoming a friend. In a lot of ways, she was like her brother Steven, who happened to be engaged to my boss. They were both fun and easygoing, quick to tease and yet rock solid, too. I liked the Ellison siblings a lot.
“Because I was thinking we could go to this new karaoke bar I heard about today at work,” she explained. “Instead of those cheesy background tracks, this place has a live band. You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to. A lot people go just to watch.”
I reached for the tablet lying on the coffee table. “What’s the name of this place?”
“The Starlight Lounge. I thought it might be fun for Friday.”
My brows went up. Friday was our bringing-the-crew-together night. I tried to imagine Arnoldo or Arash singing karaoke and just the thought made me smile. Why the hell not? At the very least, it’d break the ice.
“I’ll mention it to Gideon.” I ran a search for the bar and pulled up its website. “Looks nice.”
The name had conjured thoughts of old-school crooner hangouts, but the images on the site were of a contemporary club decorated in shades of blue with chrome accents. It looked upscale and swank.
“Right? I thought so, too. And it’ll be entertaining.”
“Yeah. Wait ’til you see Cary with a mic. He’s shameless.”
She laughed and I grinned at the sound, which was as bubbly as champagne. “So is Steven. Let me know what you decide. Can’t wait to see you.”
We hung up, and I tossed my phone onto the cushion beside me. I was leaning forward to get back to my project when I heard the ping of a text message.
It was from Brett. We need to talk. Call me.
I stared at his picture on the screen for a long minute. He’d been calling all day but hanging up when he got my voice mail. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t conflicted about him still reaching out, but it was a dead end. Maybe we’d be friends someday, but not now. I wasn’t up for it or the stress it caused Gideon.
I used to think facing issues that made me uncomfortable showed strength and responsibility. Now, I realized that sometimes resolution wasn’t the purpose. Sometimes, you just had to take the opportunity to examine yourself better.
I’ll give you a ring when I can, I typed back. Then I set the phone aside again. I’d call him when Gideon was with me. No secrets and nothing to hide.
“Hey.” Cary strolled into the living room from the hallway dressed in pajama bottoms and a threadbare T-shirt. His dark brown hair was still damp from the shower he must have taken after Tatiana left an hour earlier.
I was glad she hadn’t spent the night. I wanted to like the woman who said she was carrying my best friend’s baby, but the leggy model didn’t make it easy for me. I felt like she deliberately baited me whenever she could. I got the strong impression that she would like nothing more than to keep Cary all to herself and I was viewed as a big roadblock to that end.
My best friend sprawled facedown on the other section of the sofa, his head near my thigh and his long legs stretched out. “Whatcha working on?”
“Making lists. I want to get started on something for abuse survivors.”
“Yeah? What are you thinking?”
One of my shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. “I don’t really know. I keep thinking about Megumi and how she didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t tell anyone, either. Neither did you, until way later.”
“Because who’s going to give a shit?” he said gruffly, propping his chin on his hands.
“And it’s scary to talk about it. There are a lot of hotlines and shelters for victims. I want to find something else that makes a difference, but I don’t have any groundbreaking ideas.”
“So talk to idea people.”
My mouth curved. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Hell, why reinvent the wheel? Find someone who’s doing it right and help ’em out.” He rolled onto his back and scrubbed at his face with both hands.
I knew that gesture and what it signified. Something was eating at him.
“Tell me about your day,” I said. I’d ended up spending more one-on-one time with Gideon in San Diego than I had with Cary, and I felt bad about that. Cary said he’d had a good time hanging with his old crowd, but that hadn’t been the purpose of our trip. I felt like I’d let him down, even though he didn’t accuse me of doing so.
He dropped his hands to his sides. “I had a shoot this morning, and then I saw Trey for a late lunch.”
“Did you say anything to him about the baby?”
He shook his head. “I thought about it, but I couldn’t do it. I’m such a dick.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself. It’s a rough spot you’re in.”
Cary’s eyes closed, shuttering the vivid green of his irises. “I was thinking the other day how much easier it’d be if Trey swung both ways. Then we could both be banging Tat and each other, and I could have it all. Then I realized I didn’t want to share Trey with Tat. Don’t mind sharing her. But not him. Tell me that doesn’t make me a total douche.”
Reaching out, I ruffled my fingers through his dark hair. “It makes you human.”
I’d been in a similar situation with Gideon, thinking I could work out a way to be friends with Brett, even while I was aggravated that Gideon was friends with Corinne. “In a perfect world, none of us would be selfish, but that’s not the way it goes. We just do our best.”
“You’re always making excuses for me,” he muttered.
I thought about that for a second. “No,” I corrected gently, bending over to press a kiss to his forehead. “I just forgive you. Someone has to, since you won’t forgive yourself.”
WEDNESDAY morning came and went in a flurry. Lunch was on me before I knew it.
“We were celebrating our engagement two weeks ago,” Steven Ellison said, as I settled into the chair he held out for me. “Now we get to celebrate yours.”
I smiled; I couldn’t help it. There was something infectiously joyful about my boss’s fiancé, which you couldn’t help but pick up on. “Must be something in the water.”
“Must be.” He glanced at his partner, then back at me. “Mark’s not losing you, is he?”
“Steven,” Mark admonished, shaking his head. “Don’t.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I answered, which earned me a surprised and pleased grin from my boss. His goatee-framed smile was as contagious as Steven’s gregariousness. Really, our scheduled lunches were worth the price of admission.
“Well, I’m happy to hear that,” Mark said.
“Me, too.” Steven opened his menu with a decisive snap, as if something important had been decided. “We want you to stick around, kid.”
“I’m sticking,” I assured them.
The server set a basket of olive oil–drizzled garlic bread on the table between us, then rattled off the day’s specials. The restaurant the guys had selected had two menus: Italian and Greek.
Like most Manhattan eateries, the location was small and the tables packed tightly together, close enough that one party flowed into the next and you had to watch your elbows. The scents flowing out of the kitchen and wafting from the trays of passing servers had my stomach growling audibly. Thankfully the noise from the lunch crowd frenzy was loud enough to cover me.
Steven ran a hand through the bright red hair many women would kill for. “I’m having the moussaka.”
“Me, too.” I closed my menu.
“Pepperoni pizza for me,” Mark said.
Steven and I teased him about being adventurous.
“Hell,” he shot back, “marrying Steven is adventure enough.”
Grinning, Steven set his elbow on the table and his chin on his fist. “So, Eva … how’d Cross propose? I’m guessing he didn’t blurt it out in the middle of the street.”
Mark, who was sitting on the bench seat next to his partner, gave him an exasperated look.
“No,” I agreed. “He broke the news to me on a private beach. I can’t say he asked, because he pretty much just told me that we’re getting married.”
Mark’s mouth twisted in thought, but Steven was blunt as always. “Romance, Gideon Cross style.”
I laughed. “Absolutely. He’ll be the first to tell you he’s not romantic, but he’s wrong about that.”
“Let me see the ring.”
I held my hand out to Steven and the Asscher cut diamond shot sparks of multihued fire. It was a beautiful ring, which held beautiful memories for Gideon. Elizabeth Vidal’s thoughts on the subject couldn’t touch that.
“Whoa. Mark, darlin’, you have got to get me one of those.”
The picture in my head of the flame-haired, burly contractor wearing a ring like mine was comical.
Mark shot him a look. “So you can shatter it on a job site? Let me get right on that.”
“Diamonds are tough little beauties, but I’ll take good care of it.”
“You’ll have to wait until I run an agency of my own,” my boss retorted with a snort.
“I can do that.” Steven winked at me. “You register anywhere yet?”
“Hell, yeah.” He twisted to open the messenger bag next to him and pulled out his wedding binder. “Tell me what you think about these patterns.”
Mark raised his gaze heavenward with a long-suffering sigh. I grabbed a piece of garlic bread and leaned forward with a happy hum.
I worked on the LanCorp RFP the remainder of the afternoon.
When my day ended, I headed to my Krav Maga class with Raúl. On the way, I reread Clancy’s reply to my text saying I wouldn’t need a ride from him. He had typed back that it was no problem, but I felt the need to explain further.
Gideon wants to have his ppl with me moving forward, so you’re free from now on. ☺ TY for all your help.
It didn’t take him long to answer. Anytime. Holler when you need me. BTW, your friend shouldn’t have any more trouble.
The “thank you” I sent back didn’t seem like enough. I made a note to send him something that would better express my gratitude.
Raúl parked outside the brick-faced converted warehouse that was Parker Smith’s Krav Maga studio and then escorted me inside, taking a seat on the bleachers. His presence threw me off a little bit. Clancy had always waited outside. Having Raúl watching made me a little self-conscious.
The massive open space still managed to look crowded, thanks to all the clients on the mats and in one-on-ones with instructors. The noise was nearly deafening, a cacophony of bodies hitting padding, flesh colliding with flesh, and the various shouts as participants psyched themselves up while psyching each other out. Giant metal delivery-bay doors added to both the industrial feel of the studio and the heat, which even the air-conditioning and multiple standing fans couldn’t quite alleviate.
I was stretching in preparation for the grueling drills ahead when a pair of lanky legs came into my line of sight. I straightened and faced NYPD detective Shelley Graves.
She wore her curly brown hair in a bun as severe as her face, and her blue eyes assessed me with sharp impassiveness. I was afraid of her and what she could do to Gideon, but I admired her a lot, too. She was fierce and confident in a way I could only aspire to.
“Eva,” she greeted me.
“Detective Graves.” She was dressed for work in dark slacks and a red jersey top. She wore a black blazer that didn’t hide either her badge or her firearm. Her boots were scuffed and no-nonsense, much like her attitude.
“Spotted you on my way out. Heard about your engagement. Congratulations.”
My stomach flipped a little. Part of Gideon’s alibi—if one could call it that—was that we’d been broken up when Nathan was killed. Why would a powerful, upstanding public figure kill a guy over an ex he’d left behind without looking back?
Getting engaged so quickly had to look suspicious. Graves had told me she and her partner had moved on to other cases, but I understood what kind of cop she was. Shelley Graves believed in justice. She believed Nathan had gotten his, but I knew something inside her questioned whether Gideon had something to pay for, too.
“Thank you,” I replied, pulling my shoulders back. In this, Gideon and I were a team. “I’m a lucky girl.”
She glanced at the bleachers. At Raúl. “Where’s Ben Clancy?”
I frowned. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Just curious. You know, one of the feds I talked to about Yedemsky also has the last name Clancy.” Her gaze bored into me. “You think they’re any relation?”
The blood drained out of my head at the mention of the Russian mobster whose corpse had been sporting Nathan’s bracelet. I swayed a little with a sudden rush of dizziness. “What?”
She nodded, as if she’d expected as much. “Probably not. Anyway, I’ll see you later.”
I watched her walk away, her attention on Raúl. Then, she paused and faced me again. “You inviting me to the wedding?”
I fought through the buzzing in my head to say, “The reception. We’re keeping the wedding small, just family.”
“Really? Didn’t expect that.” Something like a smile transformed her thin face. “He’s full of surprises, isn’t he?”
I couldn’t even begin to decipher what that meant. I was too busy trying to process everything else she’d said. I didn’t even realize I’d chased after her until I had her elbow in my hand.
She stopped, her body taut in a way that told me to let go. Which I did. Immediately.
I stared at her for a beat, trying to pull my thoughts together. Clancy. Gideon. Nathan. What the hell did it mean? Where was she going with it?
Most of all, why did I feel as if she were helping me? Looking out for me. For Gideon.
What I ended up saying startled me. “I’m looking to support an organization that does good work for abuse survivors.”
Her brows rose. “Why are you telling me?”
“I don’t know where to start.”
She shot me a look. “Try Crossroads,” she said dryly. “I’ve heard good things about that one.”
I was sitting cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom’s sitting room when Gideon came home. He walked in wearing loose-legged jeans and a V-neck white T-shirt, the keys to my place spinning around his finger.
I stared. I couldn’t help it. Would he always stop my heart? I hoped so.
The room was small and girly, decorated by my mother with antiques, such as the silly escritoire I was supposed to use as a desk. Gideon infused a drugging dose of testosterone into the space, making me feel soft and feminine and eager to be ravished.
“Hi, ace.” The love and longing he inspired were exposed in those two words.
The keys were caught in his hand abruptly and he came to a stop, looking down at me much as he had that first day in the Crossfire lobby. His eyes took on the brooding fierceness I found wildly exciting.
For some reason I would probably never understand, he felt the same about me.
“Angel mine.” He dropped gracefully into a crouch, his hair sliding briefly along his cheekbones in a loving caress. “What are you working on?”
His fingers rifled through the papers scattered on the floor around me. Before my research into his Crossroads Foundation distracted him, I caught his hand and squeezed it.
I blurted out what I knew, as abruptly as the info had been sprung on me. “It was Clancy, Gideon. Clancy and his brother in the FBI planted Nathan’s bracelet on that mobster.”
He nodded. “I figured.”
“You did? How?” I smacked him on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you say something? I’ve been worried sick.”
Gideon settled on the floor in front of me, crossing his long legs in a pose mirroring mine. “I don’t have all the answers yet. Angus and I have been narrowing it down. Whoever was responsible was either watching Nathan or me and following our movements, so we started there.”
“Or watching both of you.”
“Precisely. Who would do that? Who had a stake in it? In you?”
“Jesus.” I searched his face. “Detective Graves knows. The FBI. Clancy—”
“Graves?”
“She brought it up at Parker’s studio tonight. Tossed it at me in passing just to see how I’d take the news.”
His gaze narrowed. “Either she’s fucking with you or she wants you to stop worrying. My bet is on the latter.”
I almost asked why, but then I realized I’d come to the same conclusion. The detective was tough as nails, but she had a heart. I had caught glimpses of it during the few times we’d interacted with one another. And she was good at her job, obviously.
“We have to trust her, then?” I asked, crawling over the brochures and paperwork to curl into his lap.
He pulled me into him, fitting me into the hard planes of his body as if I were meant to be there always. I felt that way when he held me. Safe. Treasured. Adored.
His lips touched my forehead. “I’m going to talk to Clancy just to be sure, but he’s no fool. He wouldn’t leave anything to chance.”
My hand tightened around a fistful of his T-shirt, hanging on to him with everything I had. “Don’t keep things like this from me, Gideon. Stop trying to protect me.”
“I can’t.” His grip on me tightened, too. “Maybe I should have said something, but we have only a few hours alone every day and I want them to be perfect.”
“Gideon. You’ve got to let me in.”
His chest expanded beneath my cheek, his heart beating strong and sure. “I’m working on it, Eva.”
That was all I could ask for.
THE next morning I padded into the kitchen on bare feet to find Gideon pouring coffee. I could say the smell of java is what added a spring to my step, but it was the sight of my husband, freshly shaved and dressed with his vest hanging open, that did it. I loved seeing him a little undone.
He looked me over as I went to him, my heels rapping on the marble, his face impassive and his eyes warm. Did he get the same kick when he caught sight of me ready to tackle my day? I doubted it. I was convinced men just saw hot … or not.
Wrapping my fingers around his wrist, I led his hand around me and up the back of my skirt to cup the undercurve of my buttock.
A smile teased the corners of his lips. “Hello to you, too, Mrs. Cross.”
He snapped the back of my garter against my thigh. I jumped at the sting and gasped as warmth spread outward from the spot.
“Hmm … you like that.” He smirked.
My lower lip stuck out in a pout. “It hurt.”
Gideon shifted to lean back against the counter and pulled me between his spread legs, both of his hands lightly gripping the back of my thighs. He nuzzled his nose against my temple and massaged the place that burned. “I’m sorry, angel.”
Then he snapped my garter on the other side.
I arched in surprise, my body aligning with his. He was hard. Again. A low moan escaped me. “Stop it.”
“It’s turning you on,” he murmured in my ear.
“It hurts!” I complained, even as I rubbed against him. He’d woken me with soft kisses and provocative hands. I had thanked him in the shower with my mouth. Still, he could go again. I could, too. We were addicted to each other.
“Want me to kiss it and make it better?” His fingers slid between my thighs and found me warm and ready. He groaned. “Christ. What you do to me, Eva. I’ve got so much to do …”
God, he felt good. Smelled even better. My arms wrapped around his neck. “We have to go to work.”
He yanked me up to my toes, grinding me against his erection. “We’re playing with these garters later.”
I kissed him. I put my open mouth over his and devoured him, my tongue touching his. Stroking it greedily. Sucking.
Gideon’s hand fisted in my ponytail, holding me in place as he took over the kiss, fucking my mouth, drinking me in. In an instant, I was hot, my skin humid with perspiration.
His lips were firm yet soft against my own, his grip angling me just the way he wanted, his teeth scraping gently across my lower lip. The taste of him, flavored delectably with a hint of rich black coffee, intoxicated me. Drunk on him, I clutched his hair in my hands, holding on, my toes flexing to push me closer. Always closer. But never close enough.
“Whoa.” Cary’s voice broke me out of the sensual spell Gideon had cast. “Don’t forget we eat in here.”
I started to pull away from my husband, but he held me tight, allowing me only to break the kiss. My gaze met his. His eyes were sharply alert beneath heavy lids, his lips softened and damp.
“Good morning, Cary,” he said, his attention shifting to my best friend as Cary joined us by the coffeemaker.
“For you two, maybe.” Cary opened the cupboard that held the mugs and pulled one out. “Sadly, I’m too tired to get turned on by the show. Not making me feel too optimistic about the rest of the day.”
He was dressed in skinny jeans and a navy T-shirt, his hair skillfully arranged in a trendy pompadour. I pitied the single Manhattanites who’d see him out and about that day. He was such a striking man, both physically and in the false confidence he exuded.
“Do you have a shoot today?” I asked.
“No. Tat does, and she wants me there. She’s got morning sickness and shit, so I’m going to be around to help her out if she’s not feeling well.”
I reached out and rubbed his biceps in sympathy. “That’s awesome, Cary. You’re the best.”
His lips twisted wryly as he lifted his steaming cup to his mouth. “What else can I do? I can’t get sick for her, and she’s got to work as long as she can.”
“You’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
Gideon’s hand stroked up and down my back, offering wordless support. “If you’ve got the time, Cary, I’d like you to be there for the appointment with the designer who’s renovating our place on Fifth Avenue.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.” Cary cocked his hip into the counter. “I haven’t totally worked things out with Tat, but I figure we’ll be shacking up together at some point. You guys aren’t going to want a screaming baby next door. When you’re ready for that, you’ll have your own, not put up with mine.”
“Cary …” My best friend rarely looked beyond the next fifteen minutes of his life. To hear him stepping up to the plate so solidly made me love him all the more.
“Both sections of the penthouse are fully soundproofed,” Gideon said, his voice holding the firm note of command that reassured everyone who heard it. “We can make anything work, Cary. You just tell me what concerns you have and we’ll address them.”
Cary looked into his mug, his beautiful face suddenly looking worn and tired. “Thanks. I’ll talk to Tat about it. It’s hard, you know? She doesn’t want to think about what’s next and I can’t stop thinking about it. There’s going to be this person who’s totally dependent on us, and we need to be prepared for that. Somehow.”
I stepped back and Gideon let me go. It was hard to watch Cary struggling. It was scary, too. He didn’t handle challenges well and I was so afraid he’d slip back into familiar, self-destructive coping mechanisms. It was a threat we both faced on a daily basis. I had a group of people who kept me anchored. Cary had only me.
“That’s what families are for, Cary.” I offered a smile. “To drive each other crazy and straight into therapy.”
He snorted, then hid his face behind his mug. The lack of a glib reply made me even more anxious. A heavy silence descended.
Gideon and I both gave him a minute, taking the time to grab our own cups of java and caffeinate ourselves. We didn’t speak or even look at each other, not wanting to create a unit that left Cary out, but I felt how in sync we were. It meant so much to me. I’d never had someone in my life who was a true partner, a lover who was there for more than just a good time.
Gideon was a miracle in so many ways.
It struck me then that I had to make some adjustments, compromise a little more on the issue of working with Gideon. I had to stop thinking of Team Cross as being his alone. I had to own it, too, so I could share in it with him.
“I’ve got time next week,” Cary said finally, looking at me, then Gideon.
Gideon nodded. “Let’s plan on Wednesday, then. Give us some room to recover from the weekend.”
Cary’s mouth twitched. “So it’s that kind of party.”
I smiled back. “Is there any other kind?”
“How are you?” I asked Megumi when we sat down for lunch on Thursday afternoon.
She looked better than she had on Monday, but she was still overdressed for the heat of the summer. Because of that, I’d ordered salads for delivery and we settled in the break room instead of braving the steamy day outside.
She managed a wan smile. “Better.”
“Does Lacey know what happened?” I wasn’t sure how close Megumi was to her roommate, but I hadn’t forgotten that Lacey had dated Michael first.
“Not all of it.” Megumi pushed at her salad with a plastic fork. “I feel so stupid.”
“We’re always quick to blame ourselves, but no means no. It’s not your fault.”
“I know that, but still …”
I knew just how she felt. “Have you thought about talking to someone?”
She glanced at me, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Like a counselor or something?”
“Yes.”
“Not really. How do you even start looking for someone like that?”
“We’ve got mental health benefits. Call the number on the back of your insurance card. They’ll give you a list of providers to choose from.”
“And I just … pick one?”
“I’ll help you.” And if I got my act together, I’d find a way to help more women like her and me. Something good had to come of our experiences. I had the motivation and the means. I just had to find the way.
Her eyes glistened. “You’re a good friend, Eva. Thanks for being here.”
I leaned over and hugged her.
“He hasn’t texted me lately,” she said when I pulled back. “I keep dreading that he’s going to, but every hour that goes by that he doesn’t, I feel better.”
Settling back in my seat, I sent a silent thank-you to Clancy. “Good.”
AT five o’clock, I left work and took the elevator up to Cross Industries, hoping to catch some time with Gideon before our appointment with Dr. Petersen.
I’d been thinking about him all day, about the future I wanted us to have together. I wanted him to respect my individuality and my personal boundaries, but I also wanted him to open up some of his own. I wanted more moments like this morning with Cary, when Gideon and I stood together, facing a situation as one. I couldn’t really push for that if I wasn’t willing to make the same effort.
The redheaded receptionist at Cross Industries buzzed me in. She greeted me with a hard smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Can I help you?”
“No, I’m good, thanks,” I replied, breezing past her. It would be nice if all of Gideon’s employees could be as easy-natured as Scott, but the receptionist had an issue with me and I’d just come to accept it.
I headed back to Gideon’s office and found Scott’s desk empty. Through the glass, I saw my husband at work, presiding over a meeting with casual authority. He stood in front of his desk, leaning back against it with one ankle crossed over the other. He wore his jacket and faced an audience composed of two suit-clad gentlemen and one woman wearing a great pair of Louboutins. Scott sat off to the side, taking notes on a tablet.
Settling into one of the chairs by Scott’s desk, I watched Gideon as raptly as the others in the room with him. It never ceased to amaze me how self-assured he was for a man who was only twenty-eight. The men he was meeting with looked to be twice his age, and yet their body language and focused attention told me they respected my husband and what he was saying.
Yes, money talked—loudly—and Gideon had tons of it. But he conveyed command and control with subtle actions. I recognized that after living with Nathan’s father, my mom’s first husband, who’d wielded power like a blunt instrument.
Gideon knew how to own a room without thumping his chest. I doubted the setting made any difference; he would be a formidable presence in anyone’s office.
His head turned and his gaze met mine. There was no surprise in those brilliantly blue eyes of his. He’d known I was there, had sensed me just as I often sensed his approach without looking. We were connected somehow, on a level I couldn’t explain. There were times when he wasn’t with me and I just wished he was, but I still felt him nearby.
I smiled, then dug in my bag for my phone. I didn’t want Gideon to feel like I was just sitting around waiting, not that doing so would pressure him at all.
There were dozens of e-mail messages from my mother with photo attachments of dresses and flowers and wedding venues, reminding me that I needed to talk with her about Dad paying for the ceremony. I’d been putting off that conversation all week, trying to steel myself for her reaction. There was also another text from Brett, telling me that we needed to talk … urgently.
Standing, I looked around for a quiet corner where I could make that call. What I saw was Christopher Vidal Sr. rounding the corner.
Gideon’s stepfather was dressed in the khakis and loafers I’d come to expect, with a pale blue dress shirt open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves. The dark copper waves he’d passed on to Christopher Jr. were neatly cut around his neck and ears, and his slate green eyes were capped with a frown behind old-school brass-framed glasses.
“Eva.” Chris slowed as he neared me. “How are you?”
“Good. You?”
He nodded, looking over my shoulder at Gideon’s office. “Can’t complain. Do you have a minute? I’d like to talk to you about something.”
“Sure.” The door opened behind me and I turned to see Scott stepping out.
“Mr. Vidal,” he said, coming toward us. “Miss Tramell. Mr. Cross will be another fifteen minutes or so. Can I get either of you something to drink while you wait?”
Chris shook his head. “Nothing for me, thank you. But if you have a private room we could use, that would be great.”
“Of course.” Scott looked at me.
“I’m good, thanks,” I answered.
Leaving his tablet on his desk, Scott led us to a conference room with a sweeping view of the city. A long, polished wood table gleamed beneath the recessed lighting, with a matching cabinet covering one wall and a large monitor lining the other.
“If you need anything,” he began, “just dial one and we’ll take care of it. There’s coffee in the cabinet there, and water.”
Chris nodded. “Thank you, Scott. Appreciate it.”
Scott left. Chris gestured for me to sit, then took the chair to the right of mine, spinning it to face me.
“First, let me congratulate you on your engagement.” He smiled. “Ireland speaks very highly of you, and I know you’ve been instrumental in bringing her and Gideon closer together. I can’t thank you enough for that.”
“I didn’t do much, but I appreciate the thought.”
He reached for my left hand, which was resting on the table. His thumb rubbed gently over my engagement ring and his mouth curved ruefully.
Was he thinking about the fact that Geoffrey Cross had selected the ring for Elizabeth?
“It’s a beautiful ring,” he said finally. “I’m sure it meant a great deal to Gideon to give it to you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. It meant a lot to my husband because it was a symbol of the love between his parents.
Chris released my hand. “Elizabeth is taking this very hard. I’m sure there are a lot of complicated emotions a mother must feel when her first child decides to get married, especially with a son. My mother used to say that a son is a son until he gets married—then he’s a husband—but a daughter is a daughter for life.”
The conciliatory explanation rubbed me the wrong way. He was trying to be kind, but I was tired of all the excuses, especially when it came to Elizabeth Vidal. The pretending had to end or Gideon would never stop hurting.
I needed the pain to stop. Every time he woke up crying, it shattered me a little more. I could only imagine the damage it was doing to him.
Still, I debated letting it go for now. I could argue and push forever, but Gideon needed to be the one to demand the answers and hear them given.
Put it away. When the time is right, it’ll happen.
But I found myself leaning forward instead, unable to hold the silence Gideon had kept for too long.
“Let’s be honest,” I insisted quietly. “Your wife didn’t have this reaction when Gideon became engaged to Corinne.” I didn’t know that for sure, but having seen Elizabeth with Corinne’s parents at the hospital, it seemed likely.
His sheepish smile proved me right. “I think that was different because Gideon had been with Corinne awhile and we knew her. You and Gideon haven’t been together long, so there’s still some adjusting to do. I don’t want you to take it personally, Eva.”
The smile chafed, but it was the words that were too much for me. Resentment welled and flowed over the wall I tried to contain it behind.
Chris wasn’t blameless, either. Taking a grieving, troubled boy into his home had to have been hard—especially when he’d been building his own family with Christopher Jr. and Ireland on the way. But he’d accepted the role of stepfather when he married Elizabeth. He shared responsibility for pursuing justice for a wounded and exploited child. Hell, a stranger would have an obligation to report the crime.
Leaning forward, I let him see how angry I was. “It’s very personal, Mr. Vidal. Elizabeth is feeling threatened because I’m not going to put up with this bullshit anymore. You both owe Gideon an apology and she needs to admit to the abuse. I’m going to keep pressuring her to make things right. You can count on that.”
His posture stiffened visibly. “What are you talking about?”
I snorted with disgust. “Seriously?”
“Elizabeth would never abuse her children,” he said tightly when I didn’t reply. “She’s a wonderful, devoted mother.”
I blinked, then stared at him. Was he as delusional as Elizabeth? How could they both act like they didn’t know?
“I think you’d better explain yourself, Eva. Fast.”
I sagged back into the chair, stunned. If he was acting, he deserved a goddamned Academy Award.
He surged forward without getting up, bristling and aggressive. “Start talking. Now.”
My voice came quiet. Small. “He was raped. By the therapist he was seeing.”
Chris froze. For a long minute, he didn’t even breathe.
“He told Elizabeth, but she didn’t believe him. She knows he was telling the truth, but she’s denied it for whatever screwed-up reason she’s come up with.”
He straightened, shaking his head vehemently. “No.”
The one-word rebuff pushed me to my feet. “Are you going to deny it, too? Who would lie about something like that? Do you have any idea how hard it was for him to admit to what was happening? How confused he must have been that a man he trusted would do those things to him?”
Chris looked up at me. “Elizabeth would never ignore … something like that. There’s a misunderstanding. You’re confused.”
I took in his dilated pupils and white-rimmed lips but refused to feel bad for him. “She went through the motions. That’s all. When push came to shove, she chose to side with everyone but her own child.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
I grabbed the handle of my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I bent into him, meeting him at eye level. “Gideon was raped. One of these days, you and your wife are going to look him in the eye like I’m looking at you and you’re going to admit it. And you’re going to apologize for all the years he’s lived with that alone.”
“Eva.”
Gideon’s voice cracked through the air, making me jump. Straightening in a rush, I stumbled as I faced him.
He stood in the open doorway, his hand gripping the handle with such force it should’ve broken off. His face was hard, his body stiff, his gaze searing me with a different kind of heat.
Fury. I’d never seen him so angry.
Chris pushed heavily to his feet. “Gideon. What’s going on? What is she saying?”
Gideon’s arm shot out and grabbed me. He yanked me into the hallway with such force I yelped in alarm. I felt the bite of his fingers even after he released me.
With his hand at the small of my back, he propelled me forward, his stride so long and quick I had to scramble to keep pace.
“Gideon, wait,” I said breathlessly, my heart pounding. “We—”
“Not a fucking word,” he snapped, pushing me roughly through the etched glass security doors into the elevator vestibule.
I heard Chris calling Gideon’s name. I caught sight of him rushing toward us just before the elevator doors shut him out.
