by Sylvia Day
Finally, he spoke with his lips in my hair. “Needed that. Thank you.”
I smiled and snuggled into him. “My pleasure, ace.”
“I missed you,” he said softly, his lips pressing to my brow. “So damn much. And not just for this.”
“I know.” We needed this—the physical closeness, the frenzied touching, the rush of orgasm—to release some of the wild, overwhelming emotions that affected us when we were together. “My dad’s coming out to visit next week.”
He stilled. Lifting his head, he looked at me wryly. “You have to tell me that while my dick’s still hanging out?”
I laughed. “Caught you with your pants down?”
“Hell.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, then rolled to his back and righted his clothes. “You have an idea of how you want the first meeting to go? Dinner out or in? Your place or mine?”
“I’ll cook at my place.” I stretched, then tugged the wrinkles out of my shirt.
He nodded, but his vibe changed. My sated, grateful lover of a moment before was replaced by the grim-faced man who’d been around more frequently lately.
“Would you prefer something different?” I asked.
“No. It’s a good plan and what I would’ve suggested. He’ll feel comfortable there.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.” He propped his head in one hand and looked down at me, brushing my hair back from my forehead. “I’d rather not hit him in the face with my money if we can help it.”
I took a deep breath. “I hadn’t considered that. I just thought I’d be less anxious about making a mess in my own kitchen than in yours. But you’re right. It’ll be okay, though, Gideon. Once he sees how you feel about me, he’ll be good with us being together.”
“I only care what he thinks if it affects how you feel. If he doesn’t like me and that changes something between us—”
“You’re the only one who can do that.”
He gave a curt nod, which didn’t help me feel better about what he was feeling. A lot of men got nervous meeting their girlfriend’s parents, but Gideon wasn’t like other men. He didn’t rattle. Usually. I wanted him and my dad to be loose and easy around each other, not tense and defensive.
I changed the subject. “Did you get everything worked out in Phoenix?”
“Yes. One of the project managers noted some anomalies in accounting, and she was right to push me to look deeper into it. Embezzling isn’t something I tolerate.”
I winced, thinking of Gideon’s father, who’d bilked investors out of millions before killing himself. “What’s the project?”
“A golf resort.”
“Nightclubs, resorts, luxury living, vodka, casinos . . . with a chain of gyms thrown in to keep fit for the high life?” I knew from checking out the Cross Industries website that Gideon also had software and games divisions, and a growing social media platform for young urban professionals. “You’re a pleasure god in more ways than one.”
“Pleasure god?” His eyes sparkled with humor. “I spend all my energy worshipping you.”
“How did you get to be so rich?” I blurted out, pricked by the memory of Cary’s insinuations about how Gideon could’ve amassed so much at such a young age.
“People like to have fun, and they’ll pay for the privilege.”
“That’s not what I meant. How did you get Cross Industries started? Where did you get the capital to get things going?”
His eyes took on a speculative gleam. “Where do you think I got it?”
“I have no idea,” I told him honestly.
“Blackjack.”
I blinked. “Gambling? Are you kidding?”
“No.” He laughed and tightened his arms around me.
But I couldn’t see Gideon as a gambler. I’d learned, thanks to my mom’s third husband, that gambling could become a very nasty and insidious disease that caused total lack of control. I just couldn’t see someone as rigidly controlled as Gideon finding anything appealing about something so dependent on luck and chance.
Then it hit me. “You count cards.”
“When I played,” he agreed. “I don’t anymore. And the contacts I made over card tables were as instrumental as the money I made.”
I tried to absorb that information, struggled with it, then let it go for the moment. “Remind me not to play cards with you.”
“Strip poker could be fun.”
“For you.”
He reached down and squeezed my ass. “And for you. You know how I get when you’re naked.”
I shot a pointed glance down at my fully dressed body. “And when I’m not naked.”
Gideon’s grin flashed, dazzling and entirely unapologetic.
“Do you still gamble?”
“Every day. But only in business and with you.”
“With me? With our relationship?”
His gaze was soft on my face, filled with a sudden tenderness that made my throat tight. “You’re the greatest risk I’ve ever taken.” His pressed his lips gently to mine. “And the greatest reward.”
* * *
When I got to work Monday morning, I felt like things were finally settling back into their natural pre-Corinne rhythm. Gideon and I were dealing with adjusting to my period, which had never been an issue for either of us in any previous relationship we’d had, but was in ours because sex was how he showed me what he was feeling. He could say with his body what he couldn’t with words, and my lust for him was how I proved my faith in us, something he needed to feel connected to me.
I could tell him I loved him over and over again, and I know it affected him when I did, but he needed the total surrender of my body—a display of trust he knew meant a great deal because of my past—to really believe it.
As he’d told me once, he had been the recipient of many I love yous over the years, but he’d never believed them because they hadn’t been backed up with truth, trust, and honesty. The words meant little to him, which was why he refused to say them to me. I tried not to let him see how it hurt me that he wouldn’t say them. I figured that was an adjustment I’d have to make to be with him.
“Good morning, Eva.”
I glanced up from my desk and found Mark standing by my cubicle. His slightly crooked smile was always a winner. “Hey. I’m ready to roll when you are.”
“Coffee first. You up for a refill?”
Grabbing my empty mug off my desk, I stood. “You bet.”
We headed toward the break room.
“You look like you got a tan,” Mark said, glancing over at me.
“Yeah, I did a little sun lounging over the weekend. It was good to be lazy and do nothing. Actually, that’s probably one of my favorite things to do, period.”
“I’m envious. Steven can’t sit still for too long. He always wants to drag me somewhere for something.”
“My roommate’s the same way. It’s exhausting how he runs around.”
“Oh, before I forget.” He gestured for me to enter the break room first. “Shawna wants you to get in touch. She’s got concert tickets for some new rock band. I think she wants to see if you’d want them.”
I thought of the attractive red-haired waitress I’d met the week before. She was Steven’s sister, and Steven was Mark’s longtime partner. The two men had met in college and had been together ever since. I really liked Steven. I was pretty sure I’d really like Shawna, too.
“Are you okay with me reaching out to her?” I had to ask, because she was—for all intents and purposes—Mark’s sister-in-law and Mark was my boss.
“Of course. Don’t worry. It won’t be weird.”
“All right.” I smiled and hoped to add another girlfriend to my new life in New York. “Thanks.”
“Thank me with a cup of coffee,” he said, pulling out a mug from the cupboard and handing it to me. “You make it taste better than I do.”
I shot him a look. “My dad uses that line.”
“Must be true, then.”
“Must be a standard guy finagle,” I shot back. “How do you and Steven divvy up coffee making?”
“We don’t.” He grinned. “There’s a Starbucks on the corner by our place.”
“I’m sure there’s a way to call that cheating, but I haven’t had enough caffeine to think of it yet.” I passed over his filled mug to him. “Which probably means I shouldn’t share the idea that just came to me.”
“Go for it. If it really sucks, I can hold it against you forever.”
“Gee. Thanks.” I held my mug between both hands. “Would it work to market the blueberry coffee like tea instead? You know, the coffee in a chintz teacup and saucer with maybe a scone and some clotted cream in the background? Give it a high-end, midafternoon snack sort of treatment? Throw in a fabulously handsome Englishman to sip it with?”
Mark’s lips pursed as he thought about it. “I think I like it. Let’s go run it by the creatives.”
* * *
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to Las Vegas?”
I sighed inwardly at the high note of irritated anxiety in my mother’s voice and adjusted my grip on my desk phone receiver. I’d barely returned my butt to my chair when the phone had rung. I suspected if I checked my voice mail, I’d find a message or two from her. When she got worked up about something, she couldn’t let it go. “Hi, Mom. I’m sorry. I planned on calling you at lunch and catching up.”
“I love Vegas.”
“You do?” I thought she hated anything remotely related to gambling. “I didn’t know that.”
“You would’ve if you’d asked.”
There was a hurt note in my mother’s breathy voice that made me wince. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I said again, having learned as a child that repeated apologies went a long way with her. “I needed to spend some downtime with Cary. We can talk about a future trip to Vegas, though, if you’d like to go sometime.”
“Wouldn’t that be fun? I’d like to do fun things with you, Eva.”
“I’d like that, too.” My eyes went to the picture of my mother and Stanton. She was a beautiful woman, one who radiated a vulnerable sensuality to which men responded helplessly. The vulnerability was real—my mom was fragile in many ways—but she was a man-eater, too. Men didn’t take advantage of my mom; she walked all over them.
“Do you have plans for lunch? I could make a reservation and come get you.”
“Can I bring a co-worker?” Megumi had hit me up with a lunch invitation when I’d come in, promising to regale me with the tale of her blind date.
“Oh, I’d love to meet the people you work with!”
My mouth curved with genuine affection. My mom drove me nuts a lot, but at the end of the day, her biggest fault was that she loved me too much. Combined with her neurosis, it was a maddening flaw, but one motivated by the best of intentions. “Okay. Pick us up at noon. And remember, we only get an hour, so it’ll have to be close by and quick.”
“I’ll take care of it. I’m excited! See you soon.”
* * *
Megumi and my mother took to each other right away. I recognized the familiar starry-eyed look on Megumi’s face when they met, because I’d seen it so often over the years. Monica Stanton was a stunning woman, the kind of classic beauty you couldn’t help but stare at because you couldn’t believe anyone could be that perfect. Plus, the royal purple hue of the wingback she’d elected to sit in was an amazing backdrop for her golden hair and blue eyes.
For her part, my mom was delighted by Megumi’s fashion sense. While my wardrobe choices leaned more toward traditional and ready-to-wear, Megumi favored unique combinations and color, much like the décor of the trendy café near Rockefeller Center my mom had taken us to.
The place reminded me of Alice in Wonderland, with its gilt and jewel-toned velvets used on uniquely shaped furniture. The chaise Megumi was perched on had an exaggerated curved back, while my mother’s wingback had gargoyles for feet.
“I’m still trying to figure out what’s wrong with him,” Megumi went on. “I was looking, let me tell you. I mean a guy that great shouldn’t be slumming it with blind dates.”
“Hardly slumming it,” my mom protested. “I’m sure he’s wondering how he lucked out with you.”
“Thanks!” Megumi grinned at me. “He was seriously hot. Not Gideon Cross hot, but hot all the same.”
“How is Gideon, by the way?”
I didn’t take my mom’s question lightly. She was aware that Gideon knew about the abuse I’d suffered as a child, and she’d taken the news hard. It was her greatest shame that she hadn’t known what was going on under her own roof, and her guilt was enormous, as well as entirely undeserved. She hadn’t known because I’d hidden it. Nathan had made me fear what he’d do if I ever told anyone. Still, my mother was anxious about Gideon’s knowing. I hoped that she’d soon come to realize that Gideon didn’t hold it against her any more than I did.
“He’s working hard,” I answered. “You know how it is. I’ve taken up a lot of his time since we hooked up, and I think he’s paying for it now.”
“You’re worth it.”
I took a large gulp of my water when I felt the nearly overwhelming urge to tell her that my dad was coming to visit. She’d be an ally in convincing him of Gideon’s affection for me, but that was a selfish reason to say anything. I had no idea how she would react to Victor’s being in New York, but it was highly possible she’d be distressed, and that would make everyone’s life hell. Whatever her reasons, she preferred to have no contact with him whatsoever. I couldn’t ignore how she’d managed to avoid seeing or talking to him since I’d become old enough to communicate with him directly.
“I saw a picture of Cary on the side of a bus yesterday,” she said.
“Really?” I sat up straighter. “Where?”
“On Broadway. A jeans ad, I think it was.”
“I saw one, too,” Megumi said. “Not that I paid any attention to what he was wearing. That man is fine.”
The conversation made me smile. My mother was adept at admiring men. It was one of the many reasons they adored her—she made them feel good. Megumi was more than her match in the guy-appreciation department.
“He’s been getting recognized on the street,” I said, glad that in this case we were talking about an ad and not a tabloid candid with me. The gossips thought it was so juicy that Gideon Cross’s girlfriend lived with a sexy male model.
“Of course,” my mom said, with a slight note of chastisement. “You didn’t doubt he would eventually?”
“I’d hoped,” I qualified. “For his sake. It’s a sad fact that male models don’t make as much or work as often as the women do.” Although I’d expected Cary would break through somehow. Emotionally, he couldn’t afford not to. He’d learned to put so much value on his looks that I didn’t think he could allow himself to fail. It was one of my deepest fears that his career choice would come back to haunt him in ways neither of us could bear.
My mother took a delicate sip of her Pellegrino. The café specialized in cacao-laced menu items, but she was careful not to waste her daily calorie allotment on one meal. I was less cautious. I’d ordered a soup and sandwich combination plus a dessert that was going to cost me at least an extra hour on the treadmill later. I excused the indulgence with a mental reminder that I was on my period, which was a carte blanche chocolate zone in my opinion.
“So,” Monica smiled at Megumi, “will you be seeing your blind date again?”
“I hope so.”
“Darling, don’t leave it to chance!”
As my mom started doling out her wisdom in regard to managing men, I sat back and enjoyed the show. She was of the firm belief that every woman deserved to have a wealthy man to dote on her, and for the first time in forever, she wasn’t concentrating her matchmaking efforts on me. While I was worried about how my dad and Gideon would hit it off, I had no concerns about my mom’s feelings on the matter. We both thought I was with the right guy for me, alt
hough for different reasons.
“Your mom rocks,” Megumi said, when Monica ducked into the ladies’ room to freshen up before we left. “And you look just like her, lucky you. How bad would it suck to have a mom who’s hotter than you are?”
Laughing, I told her, “I’ll have to drag you along with us again. This worked out great.”
“I’d like that.”
When it was time to go, I looked at Clancy and the town car waiting at the curb for us and realized I wanted to walk off some of my lunch before I got back to work. “I think I’m going to hoof it back,” I told them. “I ate too much. You two go on without me.”
“I’ll go with you,” Megumi said. “I could use the air, hot as it is. That canned air in the office makes my skin dry.”
“I’ll come, too,” my mom offered.
I eyed her delicate heels skeptically, but then again, my mom wore nothing but heels. For her, walking in those was probably the same as walking in flats was to me.
We headed back to the Crossfire at the standard stride rate for Manhattan, which was something of a steady, purposeful clip. While weaving around human obstacles was usually part of the process, it was far less of an issue with my mom in the lead. Men moved reverently off to the side for her, then followed her with their eyes. In her simple, sexy wrap dress of ice blue, she looked cool and refreshing in the humid heat.
We’d just turned the corner to reach the Crossfire when she came to an abrupt halt that caused Megumi and me to crash into the back of her. She stumbled forward, wobbling, and I barely caught her by the elbow before she teetered over.
I looked at the ground to see what had held her up, but when I didn’t see anything I looked at her. She was staring at the Crossfire in a daze.
“Jesus, Mom,” I urged her out of the flow of pedestrians. “You’re white as a sheet. Is the heat getting to you? Do you feel dizzy?”
“What?” Her hand went to her throat. Her dilated gaze remained fixed to the Crossfire.
Turning my head, I followed her line of sight, trying to see whatever it was that she did.
“What are you two looking at?” Megumi asked, frowning down the street.
