by Sylvia Day
“You know.”
“Eva stopped seeing you.”
“And speaking to me.”
He looked at Eva. “Was that because Gideon hired your boss away from the agency you work for?”
“That was the catalyst,” she agreed, “but we’d been building up to a breaking point. Something had to give. We couldn’t keep going in circles, having the same arguments.”
“So you withdrew. That could be considered emotional blackmail. Was that your intent?”
Her lips pursed as she weighed that. “I’d call it desperation.”
“Why?”
“Because Gideon was … drawing lines to define our relationship. And I couldn’t imagine living within those lines for the rest of my life.”
Dr. Petersen made some notes. “Gideon, what do you think about how Eva handled this situation?”
It took me a minute to answer. “It felt like a goddamned time warp, but a hundred times worse.”
He glanced at me. “I remember when you first came to see me, you and Eva hadn’t spoken for a couple of days.”
“He cut me off,” she said.
“She walked out,” I countered.
Again, it had been a night when we’d really opened up to each other. She told me about Nathan’s assaults, let me see the source of what had unconsciously drawn us together. Then I’d had a nightmare about my own abuse and she pushed me to talk about it.
I couldn’t and she left me.
Eva bristled. “He broke it off with me via interoffice memo! Who does that?”
“I didn’t break it off,” I corrected. “I challenged you to come back. You walk away when things don’t—”
“That’s emotional blackmail.” She released my hand and shifted to face me. “You cut me off for the express purpose of making me accept your status quo. I don’t like the way things are? Well, then, you’ll shut me out until I can’t take it anymore.”
“Didn’t you just do that to me?” My jaw clenched. “And you seem to take it just fine. If I don’t change, you don’t budge.”
And that killed me. She’d proven so many times that she could leave and not look back, while I couldn’t breathe without her. That was a fundamental imbalance in our relationship, which gave her the upper hand in everything.
“You sound resentful, Gideon,” Dr. Petersen interjected.
“And I don’t?” Eva crossed her arms.
I shook my head. “It’s not resentment. It’s … frustration. I can’t walk away, but she can.”
“That’s not fair! And it’s not true. The only leverage I’ve got is to make you miss me. I try talking it out with you, but in the end, you do what you want. You don’t tell me things, don’t consult me.”
“I’m working on that.”
“Now you are, but I had to pull away to make you do it. Be honest, Gideon, I came along and you realized you had a void in your life that I could fill, and you wanted to put me there and leave the rest of your life as it was.”
“What I wanted was for you to let us—be us. Just enjoy each other for a while.”
“My right to decide, to say yes or no, is fucking important to me! You’ve got no business taking that away from me or getting pissed when I don’t like it!”
“Jesus.” Reality check. It felt like I’d taken a punch to the gut. Considering her history, to have her feel—for even a moment—that I’d taken her choices away was a brutal blow. “Eva …”
I knew what she needed, had recognized it from the first. I’d given her a safeword that I respected at all times, in public or private. She said the word and I stopped. I reminded her often, made sure she always knew that the choice to cease or continue rested entirely with her.
But I’d failed to make the connection when it came to her job. It was inexcusable.
I turned toward her. “Angel, I didn’t mean to make you feel powerless. I would never. Ever. I didn’t think of it that way. I’m … I’m sorry.”
The words weren’t enough; they never were. I wanted to be her fresh start, her new beginning. How could I be when I was acting like the assholes in her past?
She looked at me with those eyes that saw everything I’d rather keep hidden. For once, I was grateful that she could.
Her combative posture relaxed. Her gaze softened with love. “Maybe I haven’t been explaining myself well.”
I sat there, unable to express what was churning through my mind. When we talked about being a team and sharing our burdens, I hadn’t related it to her needing the power to agree or disagree. I thought I could shield her from the troubles we faced and make things smoother for her. Eva deserved that.
She poked my shoulder. “Didn’t it feel good, even a little bit, to talk to me about your dream last night?”
“I don’t know.” I exhaled harshly. “I just know you’re happy with me because I did. If that’s what it takes … then that’s what I’ll do.”
She sank back into the sofa cushions, her lips trembling. She looked at Dr. Petersen. “And now I feel guilty.”
Silence. I didn’t know what to say. Dr. Petersen just waited with that maddening patience.
Eva took a deep, shaky breath. “I was thinking if he’d just try it my way, he’d see how much better it could be between us. But if I’m just pushing him into a corner … if I’m just blackmailing him …” A tear slid down her face, cutting into me like a blade. “Maybe we have different ideas about what our marriage should be. What if that’s not going to change?”
“Eva.” I put my arm around her and pulled her closer, grateful when she leaned into me and put her head on my shoulder. Not surrender. More like a momentary truce. Good enough.
“That’s an important question,” Dr. Petersen said. “So let’s explore it. What if the level of disclosure you want from Gideon isn’t something he will ever feel comfortable with?”
“I don’t know.” She swiped at her tears. “I don’t know where that leaves us.”
All the hope she’d had when we entered the room was gone. Stroking her hair, I tried to come up with something to say that would take things back to the way they’d been when we arrived.
Lost, I told her, “You quit your job for me, even though you didn’t want to. I told you about my dream, even though I didn’t want to. Isn’t that how this works? We both compromise?”
“You left your job, Eva?” Dr. Petersen asked. “Why?”
She curled into my side. “It was starting to cause more trouble than it was worth. Besides, Gideon’s right—he gave a little, so it seems only fair to give a little, too.”
“I wouldn’t say what either of you compromised was ‘little.’ And both of you chose to open our session with other things first, which suggests neither of you are completely comfortable with the sacrifice.” He sat back, setting his tablet in his lap. “Have either of you asked yourselves why you’re in such a hurry?”
We both looked at him.
He smiled. “You’re both frowning, so I’ll take that as a no. As a couple, you have a lot of strengths. You may not be sharing everything, but you’re communicating and you’re doing so productively. There’s some anger and frustration, but you’re expressing them and validating each other’s feelings.”
Eva straightened. “But …?”
“You’re also both pushing personal agendas and manipulating each other to make them happen. My concern is that they’re issues and changes that would naturally present themselves and be resolved in time, but neither of you wants to wait. You’re both driving your relationship forward on an accelerated schedule. It’s only been three months since you two met for the first time. At this point, most couples are deciding to date exclusively, but you two have been married for nearly a month.”
I felt my shoulders going back. “What’s the point in delaying the inevitable?”
“If it’s inevitable,” he responded, his eyes kind, “why rush it? But that’s not my point. You’re both jeopardizing your marriage by forcing each other to ac
t before you’re ready. You each have ways of coping with adverse situations. Gideon, you disassociate, as you’ve done with your family. Eva, you blame yourself for why the relationship isn’t working and start subverting your own needs, as you’ve demonstrated with your previous self-destructive romantic relationships. If you continue to maneuver each other into situations where you feel threatened, you will eventually trigger one of these self-defense mechanisms.”
As my pulse began to race, I felt Eva stiffen. She’d said as much to me before, but I knew hearing it from a shrink would validate that worry for her. I pulled her closer, breathing her in to calm myself. The hatred I felt for Hugh and Nathan in that moment was vicious. They were both dead and buried, but they were still fucking up our lives.
“We’re not going to let them win,” Eva whispered.
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, fiercely grateful for her. Her thoughts were like mine and that filled me with a sense of wonder.
Her head tilted back, her fingertips drifting along my jaw, her gray eyes soft and tender. “I can’t hold out against you, you know. It hurts too much to stay away. Just because you cross the battle lines first doesn’t mean I’m less invested. It just means I’m more stubborn.”
“I don’t want to fight with you.”
“So let’s not,” she said simply. “We started something new today—you talking, me quitting. Let’s stick with it for a while and see where it takes us.”
“I can do that.”
I’d originally planned to take Eva someplace quiet and tucked away for dinner, but I changed the venue to the Crosby Street Hotel instead. The restaurant was popular and the hotel was known to often have paparazzi nearby. I wasn’t prepared to go to any extremes, but as we’d discussed with Dr. Petersen, I was open to meeting her halfway. We would find our middle ground.
“How pretty,” she said, as we followed the hostess to our seats, her gaze taking in the pale blue walls and subdued pendant lighting.
When we reached our table, I scanned the space as I pulled the chair out for her. She was attracting attention, as she always did. Eva was a stunner by any measure, but her sex appeal was something you had to witness firsthand. It was there in the way she moved, the way she carried herself, in the curve of her smile.
And she was mine. The glance I spared the other diners made that patently clear.
I took the seat opposite her, admiring the way the light of the candle on the table gilded her golden skin and hair. The gloss on her lips invited long, deep kisses, as did the look in her eyes. No one had ever looked at me the way she did, with total acceptance and understanding blended in with the love and desire.
I could tell her anything and she would believe me. Such a simple gift, but so rare and precious. Only my silence could push her away, never the truth.
“Angel.” I took her hand. “I’m going to ask you again, and then I’ll let it go. Are you sure you want to quit your job? You won’t hold it against me twenty years from now? There’s nothing we can’t fix or undo, if you just say the word.”
“Twenty years from now, you might be working for me, ace.” Her husky laugh floated through the air and stirred my hunger for her. “Don’t worry, okay? It was actually kind of a relief. I’ve got a lot on my plate: packing, moving, planning. When that’s all behind us, I’ll figure out what’s next.”
I knew her well. If she’d had doubts, I would have sensed them. What I picked up on instead was something different. Something new.
There was a fire inside her.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her, even as I ordered wine.
After the server walked away, I lounged back, enjoying the simple pleasure of staring at my gorgeous wife.
Eva wet her lips with a teasing swipe of her tongue and leaned forward. “You are so insanely hot.”
My mouth quirked. “Am I now?”
Her calf rubbed mine. “You are—by far—the hottest man in the room, which makes this really fun. I like showing you off.”
I gave an exaggerated sigh. “You still just want me for my body.”
“Totally. Who cares about your billions? You’ve got better assets.”
I trapped her wandering leg between my ankles. “Like my wife. She’s the most valuable thing I own.”
Her brows rose with amusement. “Own, huh?”
She smiled at the server when he returned with our bottle. As he poured, Eva’s foot drifted up to tease me, her eyes heavy-lidded and hot. I pushed the glass toward her, watched her swirl the dark red wine, lift the glass to her nose, then take a swallow. The hum of pleasure she made as she approved my choice sent a surge of heat through me, which was certainly her intent. The slow stroking along my leg was maddening. I grew harder by the minute, already more than primed by days of deprivation.
I hadn’t known sex could quench a deeper thirst, until Eva.
Taking a sip out of my freshly poured glass, I waited until the server walked away. “Have you changed your mind about waiting?”
“No. Just keeping things interesting.”
“Two can play,” I warned.
She grinned. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
3
“Where will you go from here?” I asked Gideon as he escorted me into the lobby of my apartment building. The Upper West Side was my home—for now. Gideon’s penthouse was on the Upper East. The vast green expanse of Central Park divided us, one of the few things between us that was easily crossed.
I waved at Chad, one of the night staff at the front desk. He smiled back at me and gave a polite nod to Gideon.
“I’m going up with you,” Gideon replied, his hand pressed lightly against the small of my back.
I was hyperaware of that touch. It conveyed possession and control effortlessly, and made me so hot. Which only made it harder for me to deny us both when we reached the elevator. “We need to say good-bye right here, ace.”
“Eva—”
“I don’t have the willpower,” I confessed, feeling the pull of his need. He’d always been able to lure me in just by the force of his will. It was one of the things I loved about him, one of the ways I knew we were meant to be. The connection we had, it was soul-deep. “You and me with a bed nearby is a bad idea.”
He stared down at me with a wry curve to his lips that was sexy as hell. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
“Count down instead—to our wedding. That’s what I’m doing. Minute by minute.” And it was excruciating. My physical connection to Gideon was as vital to me as our emotional one. I loved him. Loved touching him, soothing him, giving him what he needed … My right to do so meant everything to me.
I gripped his forearm, gently squeezing the rock-hard muscle beneath his sleeves. “I’m missing you, too.”
“You don’t have to miss me.”
Pulling him aside, I lowered my voice. “You say when, you say how,” I murmured, repeating the basic tenet of our sex life. “And part of me really wants you to say when right now. But there’s something I want more than that. I’ll call you later tonight, after I talk to Cary a bit, and tell you what that is.”
The smile faded. His gaze turned avid. “You can just come next door and tell me now.”
I shook my head. When Nathan had been a threat, Gideon had taken up residence in the apartment directly beside mine, watching over me and ensuring I was safe, even though I didn’t know it. He could do that sort of thing because he owned the building, one of many that belonged to him in the city.
“You need to go to the penthouse, Gideon. Just relax and enjoy that beautiful place we’ll be sharing soon.”
“It’s not the same without you there. It feels empty.”
That hit me hard. Before I’d come along, Gideon had structured his life so he could be alone in every way—work interspersed with occasional hookups and avoidance of his family. I’d changed that, and I didn’t want him to regret it.
“Now’s your chance to get rid of all the things you don’t want m
e to find when I move in,” I teased, still trying to keep things light.
“You know all my secrets.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll be together in Westport.”
“Tomorrow’s too far away.”
Pushing up onto my tiptoes, I kissed his jaw. “You’ll sleep through some of it and work through the rest.” Then I whispered, “We could sext. You can see how creative I can be.”
“I prefer the original over reproductions.”
I dropped my voice to a purr. “Video, then. With sound.”
He turned his head and caught my lips, taking my mouth in a long, deep kiss. “This is love,” he murmured. “Agreeing to this.”
“I know.” I smiled and pulled back to hit the button for the elevator. “You could send me naughty pics, too, you know.”
His eyes narrowed. “You want pictures of me, angel, you’ll have to take them yourself.”
Backing into the elevator, I wagged a finger at him. “Spoilsport.”
The doors started to close. I had to grip the handrail to stop myself from dashing back out to him. Happiness came in so many forms. Mine was Gideon.
“Miss me,” he ordered.
I blew him a kiss. “Always.”
When I opened the door to my apartment, I was hit with two things at once: the smell of recent cooking and the sounds of Sam Smith.
It felt like home. But I was abruptly struck with sadness that it wouldn’t be home for much longer. Not that I doubted the future I’d accepted when I married Gideon, because I didn’t. I was so excited about the thought of living with him, being his wife in private and public, sharing my days—and nights—with him. Still, change was harder when you were happy with the pre-change version of your life.
“Honey, I’m home!” I called out, dropping my bag on one of the teakwood bar stools at the breakfast bar. My mom had decorated the entire apartment in a modern traditional style. I probably wouldn’t have gone with some of her choices, but I liked the result.
“I’m right here, sweet cheeks,” Cary drawled, drawing my attention across the open floor plan to where he lay sprawled on our living room sofa in board shorts and no T-shirt. He was lean and tanned, his abs as beautifully defined as Gideon’s. Even off duty, he looked like the super hot male model he was. “How was dinner?”