by Sylvia Day
“I don’t think so. She was very specific in her comments to me at the dinner, warning me away from you. Like I don’t know you and wouldn’t want you if I did.”
His jaw tightened and I knew I’d struck a chord. He’d never really gotten into what they had talked about when he went to her office. It was possible she’d said something similar to him then.
“I’m going to talk to Anne,” I announced.
Gideon pierced me with his icy blue gaze. “The hell you are.”
I laughed softly. My poor husband. So accustomed to having his word be law and then choosing to marry a woman like me. “I know we’ve covered a lot of ground over the course of our relationship, but somewhere in there we did discuss working as a team.”
“And I’m open to doing that,” he said smoothly, “but Anne is not the place to start. You can’t reason with someone who’s completely irrational.”
“I don’t want to reason with her, ace. She’s targeting my friends, and she thinks I’m a weak spot for you. She needs to know I’m not helpless, and that by taking you on, she’s taking on both of us.”
“She’s my problem. I’ll deal with her.”
“If you’ve got a problem, Gideon, it’s my problem, too. Listen. Operation Gideva is in full effect now. My inaction is only making this situation with Anne worse.” I leaned forward. “In her mind, either I know what’s happening and I’m too weak to do something or you’re hiding everything from me, which suggests that I’m too weak to handle it. Either way, you’re making me a target and that’s not what you want.”
“You don’t know what’s in her mind,” he said tightly.
“Things are a little twisted up there, sure. But she’s a woman. Trust me, she needs to know I have claws and am prepared to use them.”
His gaze narrowed. “What would you say?”
A little flare of triumph had me holding back a smile. “Honestly, I think it’s enough if I just pop up somewhere unexpected. An ambush, so to speak. That’ll shake her a little, to find me lying in wait. Will she go on the defensive or take the offense? We’ll get insight from her reaction, and we need it.”
Gideon shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
“I didn’t think you would.” I stretched out my legs between his. “But you know I’m right. It’s not my strategy that’s bugging you, Gideon. More like your past won’t go away and you don’t want it in my face.”
“It will go away, Eva. Let me handle it.”
“You need to be more analytical about this. I’m a member of your team, like Angus and Raúl, but obviously I’m not an employee and I’m sure as hell not a dependent—I’m your better half. It’s not just Gideon Cross anymore. It’s not even Gideon Cross and wife. We are Gideon and Eva Cross, and you need to let me live up to that.”
He leaned forward, his gaze hot and intense. “You don’t have anything to prove to anyone.”
“Really? Because I feel like I have to prove something to you. If you don’t believe I’m strong enough …”
“Eva.” Gideon’s hands cupped the back of my knees and pulled me closer. “You’re the strongest woman I know.”
He said the words, but I could see he didn’t truly mean them. Not in the way we needed him to. He saw me as a survivor, not a warrior.
“Then stop worrying,” I countered, “and let me do what I have to do.”
“I don’t agree that you have to do anything.”
“Then you’ll have to agree to disagree.” I leaned into him, draping my arms across his broad shoulders and pressing my lips to the corner of his stern mouth.
“Angel—”
“To be clear, I wasn’t asking permission, Gideon. I’m telling you what I’m doing. You can either participate or stand back—your choice.”
He made a noise of frustration. “Where’s the compromise you’re always pushing me for?”
Pulling back, I shot him a look. “The compromise is letting me try it my way this time. If it doesn’t work, we try it your way next time.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t be like that. We’ll sit down together to work out the logistics of when and where. We’ll need Raúl to get a handle on her routine. By definition, an ambush is unexpected, but it should happen somewhere she feels safe and comfortable, too. Give her a nice jolt.” I shrugged. “She’s laid down the ground rules. We’re just taking her cue.”
Gideon took a long, deep breath. I could practically see him thinking, his agile mind trying to find a way to get the result he wanted.
So I distracted him from that. “Remember this morning, when I said I’d explain why I decided to tell my parents about our marriage?”
His focus instantly shifted, his gaze watchful and alert. “Of course.”
“I know it took a lot of courage for you to tell Dr. Petersen about Hugh. Especially considering how you feel about psychologists.” And who could blame him for that distrust? Hugh had come into Gideon’s life under the guise of therapeutic help and had become an abuser instead. “You inspired me to be equally brave.”
His gorgeous face softened with tenderness. “I heard that song today,” he murmured, reminding me of the time I’d sung the Sara Bareilles anthem to him.
I smiled.
“You needed me to tell him,” he said quietly. The words were phrased as a statement but were really posed as a question.
“Yeah, I did.” More than that, Gideon had needed it. Sexual abuse was private and personal, but in some way, we had to put it out there. It wasn’t a dirty, shameful secret to shove into a box. It was an ugly truth, and truths—by nature—needed to be aired.
“And you need to confront Anne.”
My brows rose. “I actually wasn’t swinging the conversation back to that, but yeah … I do.”
This time, Gideon nodded. “All right. We’ll figure it out.”
I indulged in a mental fist pump. Score one for Gideva.
“You also said there was something you wanted more than having sex with me,” he reminded me dryly, the look in his eyes calling my bluff.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “Banging you is literally my favorite activity. Ever.”
He smirked. “But?”
“You’re going to think I’m silly.”
“I’ll still think you’re hot.”
I kissed him for that. “In high school, most of the girls I knew had boyfriends. You know how it is, raging hormones and epic love stories.”
“So I heard,” he said wryly.
My words caught in my throat. So stupid of me to forget how it must have been for Gideon. He’d had no one until Corinne in college, too damaged by Hugh’s exploitation to have the normal teenage-love-affair angst I was thinking of.
“Angel?”
I cursed silently. “Forget it. It’s lame.”
“You know that’s not going to work.”
“Just this once?”
“No.”
“Please?”
He shook his head. “Spit it out.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Fine. Teenagers talk on the phone at night for hours because they have school and parents and can’t be together. They spend all night chatting with their boyfriends about … whatever. I never had that. I never …” I bit back my embarrassment. “I never had a guy like that.”
I didn’t have to explain. Gideon knew how I’d been. How sex had once been my twisted way to feel loved. The guys I’d fucked hadn’t called me. Not before or after.
“Anyway,” I finished, my voice rough, “I had this idea that we could have that for now … while we’re waiting. Late-night calls where we talk just to hear each other’s voice.”
He stared at me.
“It sounded better in my head,” I muttered.
Gideon was quiet for a long minute. Then he kissed me. Hard.
I was still reeling from that when he pulled away and spoke in a voice that was more than a little hoarse.
�
�I’m that guy for you, Eva.”
My throat tightened up.
“Every milestone, angel. Every rite of passage … Everything.” He swiped at the tear that leaked out of the corner of my eye. “And you’re that girl for me.”
“God.” I gave a watery laugh. “I love you so much.”
Gideon smiled. “I’m heading home now, because that’s what you want. And you’re going to call me and tell me that again, because that’s what I want.”
“Deal.”
I woke before my alarm the next day. Lying in bed for a few minutes, I let my brain wake up as much as it was going to without coffee. I forced myself to focus on the fact that it was the start of my final day at work.
Surprisingly, I felt more than good about that. I felt … impatient. It really was time to shake things up.
And now the really big question. What to wear?
I rolled out of bed and hit my closet. After rifling through pretty much everything, I decided on an emerald green sheath dress that had an asymmetrical neckline and hemline. It showed a little more leg than I would normally consider for work, but why end the way I began? Why not take the opportunity to transition from the former to the future?
Today was Eva Tramell’s last. On Monday, Eva Cross would have her debut. I could picture her. Short and blond against her husband’s tall and dark but as dangerous as him in a very similar way.
Or maybe not. Maybe, play up the differences. Opposite sides of the same, sharp blade …
With a final glance at my cheval mirror, I headed into the bathroom to put on my makeup.
A short time later, Cary poked his head in. He whistled. “Lookin’ good, babe.”
“Thanks.” I dropped my lipstick brush back into its stand. “Can I talk you into helping me with a chignon?”
He sauntered in wearing nothing but Grey Isles boxer briefs, looking not so different from the billboards of him presently gracing phone kiosks and buses around the city. “Translation: Do it for you. Of course.”
My best friend got to work, expertly brushing and twisting my hair into a sleek, elegant bun.
“That was pretty intense last night,” he said, after pulling the last hairpin out of his mouth. “Having a living room full of black suits like that.”
My eyes met his in the mirror. “Three suits.”
“Two suits and Gideon,” he shot back, “who can fill a room by his damn self.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
He flashed his megawatt smile. “If anyone gets wind that I’ve got a private security detail, they’ll think either I’m bigger shit than they knew or I’ve got an inflated sense of my own importance. Both of which are true.”
Standing, I lifted onto my tiptoes and kissed his chin. “You won’t even know they’re around. They’ll be in super stealth mode.”
“Betcha I can spot ’em.”
“Five bucks,” I said, skirting around him to get a pair of heels from the bedroom.
“What? How about five big ones, Mrs. Cross?”
“Ha!” I snatched my phone off the bed when it chimed with an incoming text. “Gideon’s on his way up.”
“Why didn’t he spend the night?”
I answered over my shoulder as I rushed toward the hallway, “We’re abstaining until the wedding.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cary’s long strides easily overtook mine, even with him strolling and me scrambling. He swiped my heels right out of my grasp, freeing me to grab my travel mug of coffee off the breakfast bar. “I figured the honeymoon period lasted longer than that. Don’t most husbands get laid at least a few years before they get cut off ?”
“Shut up, Cary!” I grabbed my bag and yanked the front door open.
Gideon stood on the other side, his hand lifted with key at the ready. “Angel.”
Cary reached around me and pulled the door open wider. “I feel for you, man. Put a ring on it and bam, the legs slam shut.”
“Cary!” I glared. “I’m going to punch you.”
“Who’s going to pack your overnight bag if you do that?”
He knew me too well.
“Don’t worry, baby girl, I’ll be ready with your bag and mine.” He looked at Gideon. “Can’t help you, I’m afraid. Wait ’til you see her in that blue La Perla bikini I’m packing. You’ll have the balls to match.”
“I’m going to punch you, too,” Gideon drawled. “You’ll have bruises to match.”
Cary gave me a soft push out the door and slammed it shut.
It was nearing noon when Mark leaned over the top of my cubicle and gifted me with his crooked smile. “Ready for our last workday lunch?”
I clasped a hand over my heart. “You’re killing me.”
“Happy to give your resignation letter back.”
Shaking my head, I stood, my gaze sliding over my workstation. I hadn’t packed my few personal items yet. When five o’clock rolled around, I expected to feel closure. But for now, I wasn’t quite ready to give up my claim to my desk and the dream it had once represented.
“We’ll have other lunches.” I grabbed my purse out of the drawer and walked with him to the elevators. “I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.”
I had a wave ready for Megumi when we hit reception, but she’d already taken off for lunch and her relief was busy manning the phones.
I was going to miss seeing her, Will, and Mark every weekday. They were my own little piece of New York, a part of my life that belonged to me alone. That was something else I’d feared giving up by leaving my job—my personal social circle.
I would work hard to keep my friends, of course. I’d make time to call and plan things for us to do together, but I knew how it was—already I’d gone months without touching base with my San Diego pals. And my life would no longer resemble those of my friends. Our goals, dreams, and challenges would be worlds apart.
The elevator car that picked up Mark and me held only a few people, but the space filled quickly as it made more stops. I made a mental note to ask Gideon for one of his magic elevator keys that allowed him to glide straight up or down with no interruptions. After all, I’d still be coming to the Crossfire, just heading up to a different floor.
“What about you?” I asked, as we shuffled closer together to make room for more passengers. “Have you decided whether you’re staying or going?”
He nodded and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “I’m taking your cue.”
I could tell from the set of his jaw that he was firm in his decision. “That’s awesome, Mark. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
We exited on the ground floor and made our way through the security turnstiles.
“Steven and I talked it out,” he went on, as we crossed the gold-veined marble of the Crossfire lobby. “Hiring you was a big step up for me. It was a sign that my career was moving in the right direction.”
“There’s no doubt about that.”
He smiled. “Losing you is another sign—it’s time to move on.”
Mark gestured me through the revolving door first. I felt the heat of the sun before I finished the rotation that ushered me outside. Fall weather couldn’t come quick enough. I was looking forward to the change of seasons. It felt appropriate for there to be some outward shift to match the one happening within me.
My gaze slid over Gideon’s sleek black limousine parked at the curb, and then I turned to face my boss when he joined me on the sidewalk. “Where are we headed?”
Mark gave me an amused glance before he began scouting for an available taxi amid the surging sea of cars. “It’s a surprise.”
I rubbed my hands together. “Yay.”
“Miss Tramell.”
I turned at the sound of my name and found Angus standing beside the limo. Dressed in his usual black suit and traditional chauffeur’s hat, he looked dapper and expensive yet blended in so easily that only a trained observer might suspect his MI6 background.
It always trippe
d me out to think about his history. It was so James Bond. I’m sure I romanticized it way too much, but I was comforted by the knowledge, too. Gideon was in the best of hands.
“Hey, you,” I greeted Angus, allowing affection to color my voice.
I couldn’t help but feel special gratitude for him. His past with Gideon spanned years and I would never know the whole of it, but I knew he’d been the one support in Gideon’s life after Hugh. And Angus had been the only person from our daily lives who’d witnessed our elopement. The look on his face when he talked to Gideon afterward … the tears that had shined in both of their eyes … There was an unbreakable bond there.
His pale blue eyes sparkled at me as he pulled open the limo door. “Where would you both like to go?”
Mark’s brows shot up. “This is what you left me for? Hell. I can’t compete.”
“You never had to.” I paused before I slid into the back and looked at Angus. “Mark doesn’t want me to know where we’re headed, so I’ll just climb in and try not to eavesdrop.”
Angus tapped the brim of his hat in acknowledgment.
A few minutes later we were on our way.
Mark sat on the bench seat opposite me, taking in the interior. “Whoa. I’ve rented limos before, but they never looked like this.”
“Gideon has great taste.” It didn’t matter what the style was—modern and contemporary like his office or classic and old world like his penthouse—my husband knew how to present his wealth with class.
Looking at me, Mark grinned. “You’re a lucky lady, my friend.”
“I am,” I agreed. “All of this”—I waved my hand—“is amazing, of course. But he’s the catch all by himself. He’s just genuinely a really great guy.”
“I know what it’s like to have one of those.”
“Yes. You sure do. How’s the wedding planning coming along?”
Mark groaned. “Steven’s killing me. Do I want blue or periwinkle? Roses or lilies? Satin or silk? Morning or evening? I tried to tell him that he can do what he wants, I just want him, but he chewed me out. Said I damned well better care because I didn’t have a chance of ever getting married again. All I can say is thank God for that.”