One with You (Crossfire #5)

by Sylvia Day

  “Such as?”

  “The wedding, of course. And moving into the penthouse, which I’m doing in baby steps. And planning some renovations, which I’d like to talk about.”

  “Of course.” He studied me. “Let’s talk about those baby steps first. Is there any significance to that?”

  “Well, just that I’m not doing it all at once. It’s ongoing.”

  “Do you view it as a way to ease into the commitment? Previously, you’ve acted very decisively. Eloping. Separating. Quitting your job.”

  That made me think. “It’s a transition that affects Gideon and Cary as much as it does me.”

  “As far as I’m concerned,” Gideon interjected, “the sooner she’s moved in, the better.”

  “I’m just being careful.” I shrugged.

  Dr. Petersen scrawled across his tablet screen, taking notes. “Is Cary having difficulty adjusting?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “He’s not acting like he is. But I worry. He falls into bad habits without support.”

  “Do you have any thoughts about that, Gideon?”

  He kept his tone neutral. “I knew what I was getting into when I married her.”

  “Always a good thing.” Dr. Petersen smiled. “But that doesn’t tell me much.”

  Gideon’s hand lifted from my shoulder and went to my hair, playing with it. “As a married man yourself, Doctor, you know there are concessions a husband makes to keep the peace. Cary is one of mine.”

  That hurt me to hear, but I understood Cary had started out with a clean slate with Gideon. Then he’d made several wrong moves—like having group sex in our living room one night—that put marks against him.

  Dr. Petersen looked at me. “So you’re attempting to balance the needs of both your husband and your best friend. Is that stressful?”

  “It’s not fun,” I hedged, “but it’s not really balancing, either. My marriage—and Gideon—comes first.”

  I could tell Gideon liked hearing that when his hand fisted gently—possessively—in my hair.

  “But,” I continued, “I don’t want to overwhelm Gideon and I don’t want Cary to feel abandoned. Moving a small bag of stuff over every day makes the change gradual.”

  Once the thought was out, I had to admit how maternal that sounded. Still, I couldn’t help wanting to protect those in my life who needed it, especially from pain my own actions might cause.

  “You’ve mentioned everyone but you,” he pointed out. “How do you feel?”

  “The penthouse is starting to feel like home. The only thing I’m struggling with is our sleeping arrangements. We’ve been sharing a bed, but Gideon wants us to sleep separately and I don’t.”

  “Because of the nightmares?” Dr. Petersen asked, his gaze on Gideon.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Have you had any lately?”

  My husband nodded. “Not the really bad ones.”

  “What constitutes a really bad nightmare? One that you act out physically?”

  Gideon’s chest expanded on a deep breath. “Yes.”

  The doctor looked at me again. “You understand the risk, Eva, but you still want to share a bed with Gideon.”

  “Yes, of course.” My heartbeat quickened at the memories. Gideon had pinned me down viciously, ugly words of pain and fury spilling out in terrible threats of violence.

  In the grip of a nightmare, Gideon didn’t see me, he saw Hugh—a man he wanted to tear apart with his bare hands.

  “Many happily married couples sleep separately,” Dr. Petersen pointed out. “The reasons are varied—the husband snores, the wife steals the covers, et cetera—but they find that sleeping apart is more conducive to marital harmony than sleeping together.”

  I straightened away from Gideon, needing them both to understand. “I like sleeping next to him. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night and I watch him sleep. Sometimes, I wake up and I don’t even open my eyes, I just listen to him breathing. I can smell him, feel his warmth. I sleep better when he’s beside me. And I know he sleeps better, too.”

  “Angel.” Gideon’s hand stroked my back.

  Looking over my shoulder, I caught his gaze. His face was impassive. Gorgeous. His eyes, however, were dark blue pools of pain. I reached for his hand. “I know it hurts you. I’m sorry. I just need us to work toward having that. I don’t want us to ever give up on it.”

  “What you describe,” Dr. Petersen said gently, “is intimacy, Eva. And it’s one of the true joys of marriage. It’s understandable that you crave it. Everyone does to some extent. For you and Gideon, however, it probably seems particularly important.”

  “It does to me,” I agreed.

  “Are you implying it’s different for me?” Gideon said tightly.

  “No.” I twisted to face him. “Please don’t get defensive. This isn’t your fault. I’m not blaming you.”

  “Do you know how shitty this makes me feel?” he accused.

  “I wish you wouldn’t take it personally, Gideon. It’s—”

  “My wife wants to watch me sleep and I can’t even give her that,” he snapped. “What is that, if not fucking personal?”

  “Okay, let’s discuss,” Dr. Petersen said quickly, drawing our attention to him. “The root of this conversation is a craving for intimate familiarity. Human beings, by nature, desire intimacy, but childhood sexual abuse survivors can find this need especially acute.”

  Gideon was still tense, but he was listening attentively.

  “In many cases,” the doctor continued, “the abuser works hard to isolate the victim to help conceal their crime and make the victim dependent. The victims themselves very often withdraw from friends and family. Everyone else’s lives seem so ordinary and the troubles of others so insignificant next to the terrible secret they feel forced to hide.”

  I slid back into place against Gideon’s side, pulling my knees up to hug him with the whole of my body. His arm came tight around me once more, his other hand reaching for mine.

  Dr. Petersen’s face softened as he watched us. “That deep loneliness was alleviated when you both opened up to each other, but being starved of true intimacy for so long leaves a mark. I urge you to consider alternative ways to achieve the closeness you crave, Eva. Create signals and rituals that are unique to your relationship, that don’t threaten either one of you and bring you both a sense of connection.”

  Sighing, I nodded.

  “We’ll work on it,” he said. “And your nightmares, Gideon, are likely to continue to lessen in quantity and severity as we do. But this is just the beginning. We’ve taken some first steps in a long journey.”

  Tilting my head back, I looked up at Gideon. “A lifetime,” I vowed.

  Gideon touched my cheek with gentle fingers. He didn’t say the words, but I saw them in his gaze, felt them in his caress.

  We had love. The rest would come.

  10

  “I’ve been communicating with Benjamin Clancy,” Raúl said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You and Mrs. Cross will be heading toward the airport at the same time, so you can travel together, if you like.”

  “Of course.” I needed that time with Eva before we went our separate ways. The hours in the workday were too long to be away from her. A weekend was going to be torture. “I’ll call her and let her know we’ll be picking her up. We’ll need the limo.”

  A professional to the core, Raúl showed no reaction. It would make more sense to use the limo for Eva’s friends, instead of us, but neither the Bentley nor the Benz offered the privacy I required.

  Sitting on the couch in my office, I faced both Angus and Raúl, who’d settled into the two club chairs. We’d decided that Angus should stay behind while Raúl headed the security team accompanying me to Brazil.

  Angus would be heading to Austin to dig into the background of Lauren Kittrie.

  Raúl nodded his understanding. “We’ll make separate transportation arrangements for her friends
and yours.”

  “How is Eva getting to Ibiza?”

  “Private jet,” he replied, “chartered by Richard Stanton. I suggested they stay at the Hotel Vientos Cruzados Ibiza and Clancy agreed. It took some doing, as the resort is fully booked for the summer season, but the property manager was able to make it happen. They’ve stepped up security in anticipation of Mrs. Cross’s arrival.”

  “Good.” Having Eva stay in a Cross Industries resort gave me added peace of mind. We had two well-known nightclubs in Ibiza as well, one in Ibiza Town and one in Sant Antoni. I knew without asking that both had been pointed out to Clancy in advance. I expected he’d use the information. He was a smart man and would appreciate the added support provided by their security and staff.

  “As we discussed previously,” he went on, “we’ll have our own team in place at the airport, and they’ll follow Mrs. Cross over the weekend. They’ve been instructed to stay in plainclothes and blend in, providing backup for Clancy’s team and interceding only when absolutely necessary.”

  I nodded. Clancy was good, but he had both Monica and Eva under his watch, and they considered Cary family, so Clancy would be watching him closely, too. His focus would be divided three ways, with Monica taking precedence as the wife of his employer. Eva wasn’t the priority for anyone else that she was for me. I wanted dedicated eyes on her every moment she was out of the hotel.

  Thank God this weekend was a once-in-a-lifetime event.

  Raúl stood. “I’ll touch base with Clancy to discuss the protocol for getting to the airport.”

  “Thanks, Raúl.”

  With a nod, he left.

  Angus rose to his feet. “I’ll be hieing off to take Lucky to your sister. She’s texting me every hour to see if I’ve left yet.”

  That almost made me smile. Ireland had been excited when I asked if she would watch the dog for me. I figured Lucky would like that better than boarding, and Ireland could use a distraction from our mother’s depression over the divorce.

  Angus paused on the way to the door. “Have fun, lad. It’ll do you good.”

  I snorted. “Call me if you find anything.”

  “Of course.” He departed, too, leaving me alone to finish up the workweek.

  I noted the time on my phone before I speed-dialed my wife.

  “Hi, ace,” she answered, her voice light and bright. “Can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”

  “Tell me you were thinking about me.”

  “Always.”

  I remembered her as she’d been last night, lying prone on the bed with her heels kicked up behind her. She had watched me pack with her chin propped on her hands, commenting occasionally on my choices. She’d noted that I didn’t pack either the graphite gray slacks she fantasized about or a black V-neck T-shirt. The deliberate omission was the one thing that made her smile. Otherwise, she had been mostly quiet and moody.

  “You and I are going to ride to the airport together,” I told her. “Alone.”

  “Oh.” She let that sink in. “That’ll be nice.”

  “I’m shooting for more than nice.”

  “Ohhh … ” Her voice lowered, took on the soft huskiness that told me her thoughts had turned to sex. “Got a little transportation fetish yourself ?”

  Warm amusement slid through me, helping to ease the stress brought on by thinking of the days ahead. Eva would let me have her anywhere, but she frequently seduced me while we were en route to somewhere. Having previously been restricted to having sex only in the hotel, she’d rocked my world by inciting me to make love to her in cars and planes, as well as my home and various places of business.

  I would never say no to her. I wasn’t capable of it. When she wanted me, I was ready and more than willing.

  “I have an Eva fetish,” I murmured, turning around something she’d once said to me.

  “Good.” She took a breath. “Is the weekend over yet?”

  I heard Cary say something I couldn’t quite make out. “Soon, angel. I’ll let you go.”

  “Don’t ever let me go, Gideon.” There was a fervency to her words that moved me, betraying how unsettled she was by the weekend ahead. After the separation she’d enforced, it was good to know she wasn’t looking forward to another, even under much happier circumstances.

  “I’ll let you get back to it,” I corrected. “So you can be ready when Raúl comes for you.”

  “Never mind him. I’ll be ready to come for you,” she purred back, leaving me hard and aching as I ended the call.

  Arash entered my office shortly after four, sauntering in with his hands in his pockets and humming a tune. He grinned as he sank into one of the chairs in front of my desk. “You ready for the weekend?”

  “As ready as I’m going to be.” I sat back and drummed my fingers on the armrests of my chair.

  “You’ll be happy to hear that Anne Lucas’s assault complaint is going away.”

  I’d expected as much, but it was still good to have confirmation. “As it should.”

  “I haven’t heard if she’ll be charged with falsely reporting an incident. In the meantime, if she attempts contact with you, Eva, or Cary in any way, I need to know immediately.”

  I nodded absently. “Of course.”

  He studied me. “Where’s your head at right now?”

  My mouth twisted wryly. “I just got off the phone with one of the Vidal Records board members. Christopher is continuing to work on acquiring the capital for a buyout.”

  Arash’s brows shot up. “If he pulls it together, would you consider getting out?”

  “If I only had him to worry about, I would.” Whether Ireland chose to join the family business in the future was still to be seen, but regardless, she had a stake in the success of the company, and Christopher made poor decisions. All of my offers to support him and offer guidance had been rejected. He often refused to listen to Chris as well, apparently assuming his father’s wisdom came in some part from me.

  “What does the board think?”

  “It’s viewed as a family feud and they want me to find a quick, painless resolution.”

  “Is that possible? You’ve never gotten along with your brother.”

  I shook my head. “It’s a nonstarter.”

  I knew Arash couldn’t understand. He had a brother and sister of his own, and his family was extremely tight-knit.

  He sighed. “Sorry, man. That’s tough.”

  In an ideal world, Christopher would be attending my bachelor party weekend. We’d be close. He would be the best man at my wedding …

  … which was a position I hadn’t yet asked anyone to fill. Arnoldo had taken the reins with the weekend planning, but I didn’t know if he had done so because he assumed he’d be standing beside me at the wedding. Maybe he just had more initiative than the other guys.

  Only a few short weeks ago it would have been a no-brainer to have Arnoldo stand with me. Part of me hoped that he still would.

  Arash was also a good choice. Unlike Arnoldo, I saw Arash nearly every day. And as my attorney, he knew things about me—and Eva—that no one else did. I could trust him with anything, even without the protection of attorney/client privilege.

  But Arnoldo was direct with me in a way no one else was, aside from my wife. I’d long thought that Arnoldo’s blunt, incisive advice had kept me from becoming too cynical and jaded.

  This weekend should make the choice between the two men clear.

  It felt … wrong to stand outside Eva’s apartment door and wait for her. As I leaned against the wall opposite the doorway, I considered how swiftly things had turned a corner and how violently opposed I was to having them ever go back. I hadn’t known it could be like this between us. Open, nothing to hide, so deeply in love.

  There had been glimpses of this life before. Some of the nights we’d spent together in the apartment next door. The weekends we’d sneaked away to be alone together. But those times had existed in a vacuum. Now, we lived those moments openly. It wo
uld be even better when the world knew we were married and she lived completely in the penthouse with me.

  The door opened and Eva stepped out, looking cool and sexy in a sleeveless red wrap dress and heeled sandals. She had sunglasses perched atop her head and was wheeling a suitcase out beside her. The next time she packed, it would be for our honeymoon. We’d leave together, like we were doing now, but we would stay together from that moment forward.

  “Here,” I said, straightening to take the suitcase from her.

  She tackled me as I reached for it, her body soft and warm against mine. She pulled my head down and kissed me, a quick, sweet kiss. “You should’ve come in.”

  “You and me with a bed nearby?” I caught her around the waist and steered her toward the elevator. “I would’ve taken advantage, if I didn’t think Cary would bang on the door and bitch about missing your flight.”

  Eva separated from me as we descended to the lobby, reaching behind her to grab the handrail and showing off her sexy legs. It was a full-body flirt, with her eyes playing the game, too. They sparkled at me as she licked her bottom lip. “You look super sexy.”

  I glanced down at the white V-neck T-shirt and khakis I’d changed into before leaving work.

  “You usually wear dark colors,” she pointed out.

  “Too hot for that where we’re going.”

  “You’re too hot.” She lifted one foot off the elevator floor and slowly rubbed her thighs together.

  Amused and feeling the slow heat of building arousal, I settled back and enjoyed the show.

  Once we’d reached the lobby, I gestured her out in front of me, catching up to her in two strides so I could place my hand at the small of her back.

  She tossed me a smile over her shoulder. “There’s going to be traffic.”

  “Damn.” Traffic—and the time it would add to the commute—was what I was counting on.

  “You sound sooo disappointed,” she teased, before smiling at the doorman, who opened the door for her.

  Raúl waited outside by the limo. In moments, we were on our way, merging into the sea of cars battling their way across Manhattan.