GIDEON DIDN’T SHOW up at Tableau One.
In a way, I was grateful, because I didn’t want Brett thinking I’d planned the interruption. Outside his long-term hopes for our relationship, Brett was someone who’d been important to me in the past and I wanted to be friends with him, if possible.
But I was preoccupied with imagining what Gideon was thinking and feeling.
I picked at my dinner, too unsettled to eat. When Arnoldo Ricci stopped by to say hello, looking very dashing and handsome in his white chef coat, I felt bad that so much of his fine food was still on my plate.
The celebrity chef was a friend of Gideon’s. Gideon was a silent partner in Tableau One, which was the reason I’d chosen the restaurant. If he had any doubts about how the dinner with Brett would go, he’d have people to ask that he trusted.
Of course, I hoped Gideon would trust me enough to believe me, but I knew our relationship had its issues and our mutual possessiveness was just one of them.
“It’s good to see you, Eva,” Arnoldo said with his lovely Italian accent. He pressed a kiss to my cheek, then pulled out one of the empty chairs at our table and sat.
Arnoldo extended his hand to Brett. “Welcome to Tableau One.”
“Arnoldo’s a Six-Ninths fan,” I explained. “He came to the concert with Gideon and me.”
Brett’s lips twisted ruefully as the two men shook hands. “Nice to meet you. Did you see both shows?”
He was referring to the brawl he’d had with Gideon. Arnoldo understood. “I did. Eva is very important to Gideon.”
“She’s important to me, too,” Brett said, grabbing his frosty mug of Nastro Azzurro beer.
“Well, then.” Arnoldo smiled. “Che vinca il migliore. May the best man win.”
“Ugh.” I sat back in my chair. “I’m not a prize. Or I should say: I’m no prize.”
Arnoldo shot me a look. Obviously he didn’t wholly disagree with me. I didn’t blame him; he knew I’d kissed Brett and had seen the effect it’d had on Gideon.
“Is there a problem with your meal, Eva?” Arnoldo asked. “If you liked it, your plate would be empty.”
“You serve big helpings,” Brett pointed out.
“And Eva is a big eater.”
Brett looked at me. “You are?”
I shrugged. Was he catching on to how little we really knew about each other? “One of my many flaws.”
“Not to me,” Arnoldo said. “How did the video show go?”
“I think it went well.” Brett searched my face as he answered.
I nodded, not wanting to spoil what was supposed to be a celebratory time for the band. What was done, was done. I couldn’t fault Brett’s intentions, only his execution. “They are well on the road to megastardom.”
“And I can say I knew you when.” Arnoldo smiled at Brett. “I bought your first single on iTunes when it was still your only single.”
“Appreciate the support, man,” Brett said. “We wouldn’t have made it without our fans.”
“You wouldn’t have made it if you weren’t so good.” Arnoldo looked at me. “You will have dessert, won’t you? And more wine.”
As Arnoldo settled back in his chair, I realized he intended to fill the role of chaperone. When I glanced at Brett, I could tell from his wry smile that he caught that, too.
“So,” Arnoldo began, “tell me how Shawna is doing, Eva.”
I sighed inwardly. At least Arnoldo was a babysitter who was fun to look at.
* * *
BRETT’S hired driver dropped me off at my apartment a little after ten. I invited Brett up, because I couldn’t see any way to avoid it that wasn’t rude. He took in the exterior of the building with some surprise, as well as the night doorman and the front desk.
“You must have a smokin’ job,” he said as we walked toward the elevators.
The clicking of heels on marble chased after me. “Eva!”
I cringed at the sound of Deanna’s voice. “Reporter alert,” I whispered, before turning around.
“That’s a bad thing?” he asked, turning with me.
“Hi, Deanna.” I greeted her with a strained smile.
“Hello.” Her dark eyes raked Brett from head to toe, and then she thrust her hand at him. “Brett Kline, right? Deanna Johnson.”
“A pleasure, Deanna,” he said, turning on the charm.
“What can I do for you?” I asked her as they shook hands.
“Sorry for interrupting you on your date. I didn’t realize you two were back together until I saw you at the Vidal event earlier.” She smiled at Brett. “I take it there’s no harm done from your altercation with Gideon Cross?”
Brett’s brows rose. “You lost me.”
“I’d heard you and Cross exchanged a few blows in an argument.”
“Someone’s got a big imagination.”
Had Gideon talked to him? Or had media training taught Brett the pitfalls to avoid?
I hated that Deanna had been nearby earlier, watching me. Or, more accurately, watching Gideon. He was the one she was fixated on. I was just easier to access.
Her answering smile was brittle. “Bad source, I guess.”
“It happens,” he said easily.
She turned her attention back to me. “I saw Gideon with you today, Eva. My photographer got some great shots of you two. I stopped by to ask you for a statement, but now that I see who you’re with, would you comment on the status of your relationship with Brett?”
She directed the question at me, but Brett stepped in, grinning and flashing that dazzling dimple. “I think ‘Golden’ says it all. We’ve got history and friendship.”
“That’s a great quote, thanks.” Deanna eyed me. I eyed her right back. “Okay. I don’t want to hold you up. I appreciate your time.”
“Sure.” I caught Brett’s hand and tugged it. “Good night.”
I hurried him to the elevators and didn’t relax until the doors closed.
“Can I ask why a reporter’s so interested in who you’re dating?”
I glanced at him. He was lounging against the handrail, his hands gripping the brass on either side of his hips. The pose was hot and he was undeniably sexy, but my thoughts were with Gideon. I was anxious to be with him and talk to him.
“She’s an ex of Gideon’s with a grudge.”
“And that doesn’t send up any flags for you?”
I shook my head. “Not like you’re probably thinking.”
The elevator arrived on my floor and I led the way to my apartment, hating that I had to walk by Gideon’s to get there. Had he felt like this when he’d spent time with Corinne? Weighted with guilt and worry?
I opened the door and was sorry that Cary wasn’t hanging out on the couch. It didn’t even seem like my roommate was home. The lights were off, which was a strong indicator that he was out. He always left lights on in his wake when he was around.
Hitting the switch, I turned in time to see Brett’s face when the recessed ceiling fixtures lit up the place. I always felt weird when people first realized I had money.
He looked at me with a frown. “I’m rethinking my career choice.”
“My job doesn’t pay for this. My stepdad does. For now, anyway.” I went to the kitchen and dropped my purse and bag off on a bar stool.
“You and Cross hang in the same circles?”
“Sometimes.”
“Am I too different for you?”
The question unsettled me, even though it was perfectly valid. “I don’t judge people by their money, Brett. Do you want something to drink?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
I gestured toward the couch and we settled there.
“So, you didn’t like the video,” he said, laying his arm over the back of the sofa.
“I didn’t say that!”
“Didn’t have to. I saw your face.”
“It’s just really . . . personal.”
His green eyes were hot enough to make me flush. “I haven’t forgotten one thing about you, Eva. The video proves that.”
“That’s because there wasn’t a whole lot for you to remember,” I pointed out.
“You think I don’t know you, but I bet I’ve seen sides of you Cross never has and never will.”
“That’s true in reverse.”
“Maybe,” he conceded, his fingers tapping silently into the cushion. “I’m supposed to fly out at the butt-crack of dawn tomorrow, but I’ll catch a later flight. Come with me. We’ve got shows in Seattle and San Francisco over the weekend. You can head back Sunday night.”
“I can’t. I have plans.”
“The weekend after that we’re in San Diego. Come there.” His fingers slid down my arm. “It’ll be like old times, with twenty thousand extra people.”
I blinked. What were the chances that we’d be home at the same time? “I’ve got plans to be in SoCal then. Just me and Cary.”
“So we’ll hook up next weekend.”
“Meet up,” I corrected, standing when he did. “Are you leaving?”
He stepped closer. “Are you asking me to stay?”
“Brett . . .”
“Right.” He gave me a rueful smile and my heart raced a little. “We’ll see each other next weekend.”
We walked together to the door.
“Thank you for inviting me along today,” I told him, feeling oddly sorry that he was going so soon.
“I’m sorry you didn’t like the video.”
“I do like it.” I caught his hand. “I do. You did a great job with it. It’s just weird seeing myself from the outside, you know?”
“Yeah, I get it.” He cupped my cheek with his other hand and bent in for a kiss.
I turned my head and he nuzzled me instead, the tip of his nose rubbing up and down my cheek. The light scent of his cologne, mingled with the scent of his skin, teased my senses and brought back heated memories. The feel of his body standing so close to mine was achingly familiar.
I’d once had a mad crush on him. I had wanted him to feel the same way about me in return and now that he did, it was bittersweet.
Brett gripped my upper arms and groaned softly, the sound vibrating through me. “I remember how you feel,” he whispered, his voice deep and husky. “On the inside. I can’t wait to feel it again.”
I was breathing too fast. “Thank you for dinner.”
His lips curved against my cheek. “Call me. I’ll call you no matter what, but it’d be nice for you to call me sometime. Okay?”
I nodded and had to swallow before speaking. “Okay.”
He was gone a moment later and I was running to my purse for the burner phone. There was no message from Gideon. No missed call or text.
Grabbing my keys, I left my apartment and hurried to his, but it was dark and lifeless. I knew the moment I entered that he wasn’t there without having to check the artfully colored glass bowl he emptied his pockets into.
Feeling like something was very off, I headed back to my place. I dropped my keys on the counter and went to my room, heading straight for the bathroom and a shower.
The unsettled feeling in my stomach wouldn’t go away, even as I washed the stickiness and grime of the hot afternoon down the drain. I scrubbed shampoo into my scalp and thought over the day, growing angrier by the moment because Gideon was off somewhere doing whatever, instead of being home with me working things out.
And then I sensed him.
Rinsing soap out of my eyes, I turned and found him yanking off his tie as he stepped into the room. He looked tired and worn, which troubled me more than anger would have.
“Hey,” I greeted him.
He watched me as he stripped with quick, methodical movements. Magnificently naked, he joined me in the shower, walking right into me and pulling me into a tight embrace.
“Hey,” I said again, hugging him back. “What’s the matter? Are you upset about the video?”
“I hate the video,” he said bluntly. “I should’ve screened the damn thing when I realized the song was about you.”
“I’m sorry.”
He pulled back and looked down at me. The mist from the shower was slowly dampening his hair. He was infinitely sexier than Brett. And the way he felt about me—and I felt about him in return—was infinitely deeper. “Corinne called right before the video finished. She was . . . hysterical. Out of control. It concerned me and I went to see her.”
I took a deep breath, fighting off a flare of jealousy. I had no right to feel that way, especially after the time I’d spent with Brett. “How did that go?”
He urged my head back with gentle fingers. “Close your eyes.”
“Talk to me, Gideon.”
“I will.” As he rinsed the suds from my hair, he said, “I think I figured out what the problem is. She’s been taking antidepressants and they’re not the right prescription for her.”
“Oh, wow.”
“She was supposed to let the doctor know how they were working out, but she didn’t even realize she’s been acting so bizarre. It took hours of talking to her to get her to see it, and then pinpoint why.”
I straightened and wiped my eyes, trying to stem my growing irritation over another woman monopolizing my man’s attention. I couldn’t discount her making up a problem just to keep Gideon spending time with her.
He swapped places with me, sidestepping under the shower spray. Water coursed down his amazing body, running lovingly over the hard ridges and slabs of muscle.
“So what now?” I asked.
He shrugged grimly. “She’ll see her doctor tomorrow to discuss getting off the pills or switching to something else.”
“Are you supposed to walk her through that?” I complained.
“She’s not my responsibility.” His gaze held mine, telling me without words that he understood my fear and worry and anger. Just as he’d always understood me. “I told her as much. Then I called Giroux and told him, too. He needs to come take care of his wife.”
He reached for his shampoo, which rested on a glass shelf with the rest of his personal shower items. He’d moved his stuff into my place pretty much the minute I agreed to date him, just as he had stocked his place with duplicates of my everyday items.
“She was provoked, though, Eva. Deanna visited her earlier tonight with pictures she took of you and me at the video launch.”
“Fabulous,” I muttered. “That explains why Deanna was here waiting to ambush me.”
“Was she really?” he purred dangerously, making me pity Deanna—for about half a second. She was digging herself a nice grave.
“She probably got shots of you showing up at Corinne’s place and wanted to rile me.” I crossed my arms. “She’s stalking you.”
Gideon tipped his head back into the water to rinse, his biceps flexing as he ran his fingers through his hair.
He was so flagrantly, sexually, beautifully male.
I licked my lips, aroused by the sight of him despite my irritation with his exes. I closed the distance between us and squeezed some of his body wash into my palm. Then I ran my hands over his chest.
Groaning, he looked down at me. “I love your hands on me.”
“That’s good, since I can’t keep my hands off you.”
He touched my cheek, his eyes soft. He searched my face, maybe gauging whether I was wearing the fuck-me look or not. I didn’t think I was. I wanted him, that never stopped, but I also wanted to enjoy just being with him. That was hard when he was blowing my mind.
“I needed this,” he said. “Being with you.”
“It seems like so much is coming at us, doesn’t it? We can’t catch a break. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” My fingertips traced the hard ridges of his abdomen. Desire hummed between us, and that wonderful sense of being near someone who was precious and necessary. “But we’re doing okay, aren’t we?”
His lips touched my forehead. “We’re hanging in pretty good, I’d say. But I can’t wait to take you away tomorrow. Get out of here for a while, away from everyone, and just have you all to myself.”
I smiled, delighted by the thought. “I can’t wait, either.”
* * *
I woke when Gideon slipped out of my bed.
Blinking, I noted that the television was still on, though muted. I’d fallen asleep curled up with him, enjoying our time alone together after all the hours and days we’d been forced to spend apart.
“Where are you going?” I whispered.
“To bed.” He touched my cheek. “I’m crashing hard.”
“Don’t go.”
“Don’t ask me to stay.”
I sighed, understanding his fear. “I love you.”
Bending over me, Gideon pressed his lips to mine. “Don’t forget to put your passport in your purse.”
“I won’t forget. Are you sure I shouldn’t pack something?”
“Nothing.” He kissed me again, his lips clinging to mine.
Then he was gone.
* * *
I wore a light jersey wrap dress to work on Friday, something that could go from work to a long flight easily. I had no idea how far Gideon was taking me, but knew I’d be comfortable no matter what.
When I got to work, I found Megumi on the phone, so we waved at each other and I headed straight to my cubicle. Ms. Field stopped by just as I settled into my chair.
The executive chairman of Waters Field & Leaman looked powerful and confident in a soft gray pantsuit.
“Good morning, Eva,” she said. “Have Mark stop by my office when he gets in.”
I nodded, admiring her triple-strand black pearl necklace. “Will do.”
When I passed along the request to Mark five minutes later, he shook his head. “Betcha we didn’t get the Adrianna Vineyards account.”
“You think?”
“I hate those damned cattle-call RFPs. They’re not looking for quality and experience. They just want someone who’s hungry enough to give their services away.”
We’d dropped everything to meet the deadline for the request for proposal, which had been given to Mark to spearhead because he’d done such an amazing job with the Kingsman Vodka account.
“Their loss,” I told him.
“I know, but still . . . I want to win ’em all. Wish me luck that I’m wrong.”
I gave him a thumbs-up and he headed to Christine Field’s office. My desk phone rang as I was pushing to my feet to grab a cup of coffee from the break room.
“Mark Garrity’s office,” I answered, “Eva Tramell speaking.”
“Eva, honey.”
I exhaled at the sound of my mother’s watery voice. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“Will you see me? Maybe we could have lunch?”
“Sure. Today?”
“If you could.” She took a breath that sounded like a sob. “I really need to see you.”
“Okay.” My stomach knotted with concern. I hated hearing my mother so upset. “Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”
“Clancy and I will come get you. You take lunch at noon, right?”
“Yes. I’ll meet you at the curb.”
“Good.” She paused. “I love you.”
“I know, Mom. I love you, too.”
We hung up and I stared down at the phone.
How was our family going to move forward from here?
I sent a quick text to Gideon, letting him know I’d have to take a rain check on lunch. I needed to get my relationship with my mom back on track.
Knowing I needed more coffee to tackle the day ahead, I set off to fill up.
* * *
I left my desk exactly at noon and headed down to the lobby. As the hours passed, I grew more and more excited about getting away with Gideon. Away from Corinne, and Deanna, and Brett.
I’d just passed through the security turnstiles when I saw him.
Jean-François Giroux stood at the security desk, looking distinctly European and very attractive. His wavy dark hair was longer than it had been in the pictures I’d seen of him, his face less tan and his mouth harder, framed by a goatee. The pale green of his eyes was even more striking in person, even though they were red with weariness. From the small carry-on at his feet, I suspected he’d come straight to the Crossfire from the airport.
“Mon Dieu. How slow are the elevators in this building?” he asked the security guard in a clipped French accent. “It’s impossible that it should take twenty minutes to come down from the top.”
“Mr. Cross is on his way,” the guard replied staunchly, remaining in his chair.
As if he sensed my gaze, Giroux’s head swiveled toward me and his gaze narrowed. He pushed away from the counter, striding toward me. The cut of his suit was tighter than Gideon’s, narrower at the waist and calves. The impression I got of him was too neat and rigid, a man who assumed power by enforcing rules.
“Eva Tramell?” he asked, startling me with his recognition.
“Mr. Giroux.” I offered my hand.
He took it, then surprised me by leaning in and kissing both of my cheeks. Perfunctory, absentminded kisses, but that wasn’t the point. Even for a Frenchman, it was a familiar gesture from someone who was a total stranger to me.
When he stepped back, I looked at him with raised brows.
“Would you have time to speak with me?” he asked, still holding my hand.
“I’m afraid not today.” I tugged away gently. Anonymity was created just by being in a massive space crowded with people rushing to and fro, but with Deanna lurking around, I couldn’t be too careful about who I was seen with. “I have a lunch date and then I’m leaving directly after work.”
“Tomorrow, perhaps?”
“I’ll be out of town this weekend. Monday would be the earliest.”
“Out of town. With Cross?”
My head canted to the side as I examined him, trying to read him. “That’s really none of your business, but yes.”
I told the truth so he’d know that Gideon had a woman in his life who wasn’t Corinne.
“Does it not bother you,” he said, his tone noticeably cooling, “that he used my wife to make you jealous and bring you back to him?”
“Gideon wants to be friends with Corinne. Friends spend time together.”
“You’re blond, but surely you can’t be so naïve as to believe that.”
“You’re stressed,” I countered, “but surely you know you’re being an ass.”
I registered Gideon’s presence before I felt his hand on my arm.
“You’ll apologize, Giroux,” he interjected with dangerous softness. “And do so sincerely.”
Giroux shot him a look so filled with anger and loathing, it made me shift restlessly on my feet. “Making me wait is classless, Cross, even for you.”
“If the insult were intentional, you’d know it.” Gideon’s mouth thinned into a line as sharp as a blade. “The apology, Giroux. I’ve never been anything but polite and respectful to Corinne. You will show Eva the same courtesy.”
To the casual observer, his pose was loose and relaxed, but I felt the fury in him. I sensed it in both men—one hot and one icy cool, the tension building by the moment. The space around us felt like it was closing in, which was insane considering how wide and deep the lobby was, and how high the ceiling soared.
Afraid they’d come to blows right there, regardless of being in such a populated space, I reached over and caught Gideon’s hand in mine, giving it a light squeeze.
Giroux’s gaze dropped to our linked hands, then rose to meet my eyes. “Pardonnez-moi,” he said, inclining his head slightly to me. “You are not at fault here.”
“Don’t let us hold you up,” Gideon murmured to me, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
But I lingered, hating to walk away. “You should be with your wife,” I said to Giroux.
“She should be with me,” he corrected.
I reminded myself that he hadn’t come after her when she’d left him. He’d been too busy blaming Gideon instead of fixing his marriage.
“Eva,” my mom called, having come inside to find me. She approached on nude Louboutins, her slender body draped in a soft silk halter dress in a matching hue. In the dark marble-lined lobby, she was a bright spot.
“Let’s get you on your way, angel,” Gideon said. “Give me a minute, Giroux.”
I hesitated before walking away. “Good-bye, Monsieur Giroux.”
“Miss Tramell,” he said, tearing his gaze away from Gideon. “Until next time.”
I left because I didn’t have a choice, but I didn’t like it. Gideon walked me over to intercept my mom, and I looked at him, letting him see the worry on my face.
His eyes reassured me. I saw the same latent power and uncompromising control that I’d recognized when we first met. He could handle Giroux. He could handle anything.
“Enjoy your lunch,” Gideon said, kissing my mom’s cheek before facing me and giving me a quick, hard kiss on the mouth.
I watched him walk away and was unnerved by the intensity with which Giroux’s eyes followed his return.
My mom’s arm linking with mine brought my attention to her.
“Hi,” I said, trying to push my unease away. I waited for her to ask if the guys were going to join us, since she loved nothing more than spending time with rich handsome men, but she didn’t.
“Are you and Gideon trying to work things out?” she asked instead.
“Yes.”
I glanced at her before I preceded her through the revolving door. She looked more fragile than ever, her skin pale and her eyes lacking their usual sparkle. I waited until she joined me outside, my senses struggling to adjust to the change wrought by stepping out of the cool, cavernous lobby into the sweltering heat and explosion of noise and activity on the street.
I smiled at Clancy as he opened the back door to the town car. “Hey, Clancy.”
As my mom slid gracefully into the back of the car, he smiled back. At least I think it was a smile. His mouth twitched a little.
“How are you?” I asked him.
He gave me a brisk nod in reply. “And you?”
“Hanging in there.”
“You’ll be all right,” he said, just as I slid into the car beside my mom. He sounded a lot more confident about that than I felt.
* * *
THE first few minutes of lunch were filled with an awkward silence. Sunlight flooded the New American bistro my mom had selected, which only made the unease between us more obvious.
I waited for my mom to start things off, since she was the one who wanted to talk. I had plenty to say, but first I needed to know what the priority was for her. Was it the trust she’d broken by putting a tracking device in my Rolex? Was it her cheating on Stanton with my dad?
“That’s a beautiful watch,” she said, looking at my new one.
“Thank you.” My hand covered it, protecting it. The timepiece was priceless to me, and deeply personal. “Gideon bought it for me.”
She looked horrified. “You didn’t tell him about the tracker, did you?”
“I tell him everything, Mom. We don’t have any secrets.”
“Maybe you don’t. What about him?”
“We’re solid,” I said confidently. “And getting stronger every day.”
“Oh.” She nodded, her short curls swaying gently. “That’s . . . wonderful, Eva. He can take good care of you.”
“He already does, in the way I need him to, which has nothing to do with his money.”
My mother’s lips tightened at my bitter tone. She didn’t actually frown, something she studiously avoided to protect the flawlessness of her skin. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss money, Eva. You never know when or why you’ll need it.”
Irritation simmered through me. She’d put money first my whole life, no matter who she hurt—like my father—in the process.
“I don’t,” I argued. “I just won’t let it rule my life. And before you blurt out something like, oh it’s easy for me to say that, I can guarantee if Gideon lost every cent he had, I’d still be with him.”
“He’s too smart to lose it all,” she said tightly. “And if you’re lucky, you’ll never have anything happen that will drain you financially.”
I sighed, exasperated with the topic. “We’re never going to see eye to eye on this, you know.”
Her beautifully manicured fingers stroked over the handle of her silverware. “You’re so angry at me.”
“Do you realize Dad’s in love with you? He’s so in love with you, he can’t move on. I don’t think he’ll ever get married. He’ll never have a steady woman in his life who’ll take care of him.”
She swallowed hard and a tear slid down her cheek.
“Don’t you dare cry,” I ordered, leaning forward. “This isn’t about you. You’re not the victim here.”
“I’m not allowed to feel pain?” she retorted, her voice harder than I’d ever heard it. “I’m not allowed to cry over a broken heart? I love your father, too. I would give anything for him to be happy.”
“You don’t love him enough.”
“Everything I’ve done is for love. Everything.” She laughed humorlessly. “My God . . . I wonder how you can stand to be with me when you hold such a low opinion.”
“You’re my mother and you’ve always been on my side. You’re always trying to protect me, even if you go about it the wrong way. I love you and Dad both. He’s a good man who deserves to be happy.”
She took a shaky sip of water. “If it weren’t for you, I’d wish we had never met. We both would’ve been happier that way. There’s nothing I can do about it now.”
“You could be with him. Make him happy. You seem to be the only woman who can.”
“That’s impossible,” she whispered.
“Why? Because he’s not rich?”
“Yes.” Her hand went to her throat. “Because he’s not rich.”
Brutal honesty. My heart sank. There was a bleak look in her blue eyes I’d never seen before. What drove her to need money so desperately? Would I ever know or understand? “But you’re rich. Isn’t that enough?”
Over the course of three divorces, she’d amassed millions in personal wealth.
“No.”
I stared at her, incredulous.
She looked away, her three-carat diamond studs catching the light and glittering with a rainbow of colors. “You don’t understand.”
“So explain it to me, Mom. Please.”
Her gaze returned to me. “Maybe someday. When you’re not so upset with me.”
Sitting back in my chair, I felt a headache building. “Fine. I’m upset because I don’t understand, and you won’t explain because I’m upset. We’re getting nowhere fast.”
“I’m sorry, honey.” Her expression was pleading. “What happened between your father and me—”
“Victor. Why don’t you ever say his name?”
She flinched. “How long will you punish me?” she asked quietly.
“I’m not trying to punish you. I just don’t get it.”
It was crazy that we were sitting in a bright, busy space filled with people and dealing with painful personal crap. I wished she’d had me over to her place instead, the home she shared with Stanton. But I guessed she had wanted the buffer of an audience to keep me from totally losing it.
“Listen,” I said, feeling tired. “Cary and I are going to move out of the apartment, get something on our own.”
My mom’s shoulders straightened. “What? Why? Don’t be reckless, Eva! There’s no need—”
“There is, though. Nathan’s gone. And Gideon and I want to spend more time together—”
“What does that have to do with you moving away?” Her eyes flooded with tears. “I’m sorry, Eva. What more can I say?”
“This isn’t about you, Mom.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, fidgeting because her crying always got to me. “Okay, honestly, it does feel weird living in a place Stanton pays for after what happened between you and Dad, but more than that, Gideon and I want to live together. It just makes sense to start fresh someplace.”
“Live together?” My mother’s tears dried up. “Before marriage? Eva, no. That would be a horrible mistake. What about Cary? You brought him out to New York with you.”
“And he’ll stay with me.” I didn’t feel like telling her I hadn’t brought up the Gideon-as-a-roommate idea to Cary yet, but I was confident he’d be okay with it. I would be around more and the rent would be easier to bear when split in thirds. “It’ll be the three of us.”
“You don’t live with a man like Gideon Cross if you’re not married to him.” She leaned forward. “You have to trust me on this. Wait for the ring.”
“I’m not in a rush to get married,” I said, even as my thumb rubbed over the back of my ring.
“Oh my God.” My mother shook her head. “What are you saying? You love him.”
“It’s too soon. I’m too young.”
“You’re twenty-four. That’s the perfect age.” Determination straightened my mother’s spine. For once, that didn’t bother me, because it restored some of her spirit. “I’m not going to let you ruin this, Eva.”
“Mom—”
“No.” Her eyes took on a calculating gleam. “Trust me and slow down. I’ll handle this.”
Crap. That wasn’t at all reassuring when she was on Gideon’s side of the marriage argument and not mine.
