Reflected in You

by Sylvia Day

  “Things moving along?” He straightened to open the door for me. As long as I’d known him, he’d kept his dark blond hair in a military crew cut. It added to the impression of his being a very somber man.

  “Working on it.” Sliding into the backseat, I told Clancy to drop me off at Gideon’s. I had my own key and I was prepared to use it.

  On the drive over, I wondered if Gideon had gone to see Dr. Petersen for his appointment or if he’d blown it off. He’d agreed to individual therapy only because of me. If I wasn’t part of the equation anymore, he might not see any reason to make the effort.

  I entered the understated and elegant lobby of Gideon’s apartment building and checked in with the front desk. It wasn’t until I was alone in his private elevator that the nerves really hit me. He’d placed me on his approved list weeks before, a gesture that meant so much more to him and me than it would to others because Gideon’s home was his sanctuary, a place he allowed few visitors to see. I was the only lover he’d ever entertained there and the only person, aside from his household staff, who had a key. Yesterday I wouldn’t have doubted my welcome, but now . . .

  I exited into a small foyer decorated with checkerboard marble tiles and an antique console bearing a massive arrangement of white calla lilies. Before I unlocked his front door, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for however I might find him. The one previous time he’d attacked me in his sleep, it had shattered him. I couldn’t help but fear what the second time had done to him. I was terrified that his parasomnia might be the wedge that drove us apart.

  But the moment I entered his apartment, I knew he wasn’t home. The energy that thrummed through a space when he occupied it was markedly absent.

  Lights that were activated by my movements came on when I entered the expansive living room, and I forced myself to settle in as if I belonged there. My room was down the hall and I went to it, pausing on the threshold to absorb the weirdness of seeing my bedroom replicated in Gideon’s place. The duplication was uncanny, from the color on the walls to the furniture and fabrics, but its existence was more than a little unnerving.

  Gideon had created it as my safe room, a place for me to run to when I needed some space. I supposed I was running to it now, in a way, by using it instead of his.

  Setting my workout bag and purse on the bed, I showered and changed into one of the Cross Industries T-shirts Gideon had set aside for me. I tried not to think about why he still wasn’t home. I’d just poured a glass of wine and turned on the living room television when my smartphone rang.

  “Hello?” I answered, unfamiliar with the number on the nameless Caller ID.

  “Eva? It’s Shawna.”

  “Oh, hey, Shawna.” I tried not to sound disappointed.

  “I hope it’s not too late to call.”

  I looked at the screen of my phone, noting that it was almost nine o’clock. Jealousy mingled with my concern. Where was he? “No worries. I’m just watching TV.”

  “Sorry I missed your call last night. I know it’s short notice, but I wanted to see if you’d be up for going to a Six-Ninths concert on Friday.”

  “A what concert?”

  “Six-Ninths. You haven’t heard of ’em? They were indie until late last year. I’ve been following them for a while and they gave their e-mail list first dibs, so I scored tickets. Thing is, everyone I know likes hip-hop and dance pop. Not to say you’re my last hope, but . . . well, you’re my last hope. Tell me you like alt rock.”

  “I like alt rock.” My phone beeped. Incoming call. When I saw it was Cary, I let it go to voice mail. I didn’t think I’d be on the phone with Shawna too long and I could call him back.

  “How did I know that?” She laughed. “I’ve got four tickets if you’ve got someone you’d like to bring along. Meet up at six? Grab something to eat first? The show starts at nine.”

  Gideon walked in just as I answered, “You’ve got a date.”

  He stood just inside the door with his jacket slung over one arm, the top button of his dress shirt undone, and a briefcase in his hand. His mask was in place, showing no emotion whatsoever at finding me sprawled on his couch in his T-shirt with a glass of his wine on his table and his television on. He raked me with a head-to-toe glance, but nothing flickered in those beautiful eyes. I suddenly felt awkward and unwanted.

  “I’ll get back to you about the other ticket,” I told Shawna, sitting up slowly so I didn’t flash him. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

  “I’m just glad you’re coming! We’re going to have a great time.”

  We agreed to talk the next day and hung up. In the interim, Gideon set his briefcase down and tossed his jacket over the arm of one of the gilded chairs flanking the ends of the glass coffee table.

  “How long have you been here?” he asked, yanking the knot of his tie loose.

  I stood. My palms grew damp at the thought that he might kick me out. “Not long.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  I shook my head. I hadn’t been able to eat much all day. I’d gotten through the session with Parker courtesy of a protein drink I’d picked up during my lunch hour.

  “Order something.” He walked past me toward the hallway. “Menus are in the kitchen drawer by the fridge. I’m going to grab a quick shower.”

  “Do you want something?” I asked his retreating back.

  He didn’t stop or look at me. “Yes. I haven’t eaten, either.”

  I’d finally settled upon a local deli boasting organic tomato soup and fresh baguettes—figuring my stomach could maybe handle that—when my phone rang again.

  “Hey, Cary,” I answered, wishing I were home with him and not about to face a painful breakup.

  “Hey, Cross was just here looking for you. I told him to go to hell and stay there.”

  “Cary.” I sighed. I couldn’t blame him; I’d do the same thing for him. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At his place, waiting for him. He just showed. I’ll probably be home sooner rather than later.”

  “You kicking him to the curb?”

  “I think that’s on his agenda.”

  He exhaled audibly. “I know it’s not what you’re ready for, but it’s for the best. You should call Dr. Travis ASAP. Talk it out with him. He’ll help you put things in perspective.”

  I had to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’m— Yeah. Maybe.”

  “You okay?”

  “Ending it face-to-face has dignity, at least. That’s something.”

  My phone was pulled from my hand.

  Gideon held my gaze as he said, “Good-bye, Cary,” then powered off my phone and set it on the counter. His hair was damp and he wore black pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips. The sight of him hit me hard, reminding me of all that I stood to lose when I lost him—the breathless anticipation and desire, the comfort and intimacy, the ephemeral sense of rightness that made everything worthwhile.

  “Who’s the date?” he asked.

  “Huh? Oh. Shawna—Mark’s sister-in-law—has concert tickets for Friday.”

  “Have you figured out what you want to eat?”

  I nodded, tugging at the thigh-length hem of my shirt because I felt self-conscious.

  “Get me a glass of whatever you’re drinking.” He reached around me and picked up the menu I’d set out on the counter. “I’ll order. What do you want?”

  It was a relief to move over to the cabinet that held the wineglasses. “Soup. Crusty bread.”

  As I tugged the cork out of the bottle of merlot I had left on the counter, I heard him call the deli and speak in that firm, raspy voice of his that I loved from the moment I’d first heard it. He ordered tomato soup and chicken noodle, which caused a painful tightness in my chest. Without being told, he’d ordered what I wanted. It was another of the many serendipitous things that always made me feel like we were destined to end up in the same place, together, if only we could make it that far.

&nb
sp; I passed him the glass I’d poured for him and watched as he took a drink. He looked tired, and I wondered if he’d stayed up all night like I had.

  Lowering the glass, he licked the lingering trace of wine off his lips. “I went to your place looking for you. I expect Cary told you.”

  I rubbed at the painful ache in my chest. “I’m sorry . . . about this and—” I gestured at what I was wearing. “Damn it. I didn’t plan this well.”

  He leaned back into the counter and crossed one ankle over the other. “Go on.”

  “I figured you’d be home. I should’ve called first. When you weren’t here, I should have just waited for another time instead of making myself at home.” I rubbed at my stinging eyes. “I’m . . . confused about what’s going on. I’m not thinking straight.”

  His chest expanded on a deep breath. “If you’re waiting for me to break up with you, you can stop waiting.”

  I grabbed onto the kitchen island to steady myself. That’s it? That’s the end?

  “I can’t do it,” he said flatly. “I can’t even say I’ll let you walk, if that’s why you’re here.”

  What? I frowned in confusion. “You left your key at my place.”

  “I want it back.”

  “Gideon.” My eyes closed and tears tracked down my cheeks. “You’re an ass.”

  I walked away, moving toward my bedroom with a quick and slightly weaving stride that had nothing to do with the small amount of wine I’d sipped.

  I had scarcely cleared the doorway of my room when he grabbed my elbow.

  “I won’t follow you inside,” he said gruffly, his head bent to reach my ear. “I promised you that. But I’m asking you to stay and talk to me. At least listen. You came all this way—”

  “I have something for you.” It was hard for me to get the words past my tight throat.

  He released me and I hurried to my purse. When I faced him, I asked, “Were you breaking up with me when you left the key on my counter?”

  He filled the doorway. His hands were extended above his shoulders, his knuckles white from the force with which he gripped the frame, as if he were physically restraining himself from following me. The pose displayed his body beautifully, defining every muscle, allowing the drawstring waistband of his pants to cling to his hip bones. I wanted him with every breath I took.

  “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead,” he admitted. “I just wanted you to feel safe.”

  My grip tightened around the object in my hand. “You ripped my heart out, Gideon. You have no idea what seeing that key lying there did to me. How bad it hurt me. No idea.”

  His eyes squeezed shut and his head bowed. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I thought I was doing the right thing—”

  “Fuck that. Fuck your damn chivalry or whatever the hell you think that was. Don’t do it again.” My voice took on an edge. “I’m telling you right now and I mean it like I’ve never meant anything before—you ever give me my keys back again, we’re done. There’s no coming back from that. Do you understand?”

  “I do, yes. I’m not sure you do.”

  My breath left me in a shaky exhalation. I approached him. “Give me your hand.”

  His left hand stayed on the doorjamb, but his right lowered and extended toward me.

  “I never gave you the key to my place; you just took it.” I cupped his hand between both of mine, placing my gift in his palm. “I’m giving it to you now.”

  Stepping back, I released him, watching as he looked down at the gleaming monogrammed fob with my apartment key on it. It was the best way I could think of to show him that it belonged to him and that it was given freely.

  His hand fisted, closing tightly around my gift. After a long minute, he looked up at me and I saw the tears that wet his face.

  “No,” I whispered, my heart breaking further. I cupped his face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Please . . . don’t.”

  Gideon caught me up, his lips pressing to mine. “I don’t know how to walk away.”

  “Shh.”

  “I’ll hurt you. I already am. You deserve better—”

  “Shut up, Gideon.” I climbed him and wrapped my legs around his waist, holding on.

  “Cary told me how you looked . . .” He began to shake violently. “You don’t see what I’m doing to you. I’m breaking you, Eva—”

  “That’s not true.”

  He sank to his knees on the floor, clasping me tightly. “I’ve trapped you in this. You don’t see it now, but you knew from the beginning— You knew what I would do to you, but I wouldn’t let you run.”

  “I’m not running anymore. You’ve made me stronger. You gave me a reason to try harder.”

  “God.” His eyes were haunted. He sat, stretching his legs out, pulling me closer. “We’re so fucked up, and I’ve handled everything all wrong. We’re going to kill each other with this. We’ll tear each other apart until there’s nothing left.”

  “Shut up. I don’t want to hear any more of that shit. Did you go to Dr. Petersen?”

  His head fell back against the wall and his eyes closed. “Yes, damn it.”

  “Did you tell him about last night?”

  “Yes.” His jaw clenched. “And he said the same thing he started on last week. That we’re in too deep. We’re drowning each other. He thinks we need to pull back, date platonically, sleep separately, spend more time together with others and less time alone.”

  It would be better, I thought. Better for our sanity, better for our chances. “I hope he’s got a Plan B.”

  Gideon opened his eyes and looked at my scowling face. “That’s what I said. Again.”

  “So we’re fucked up. Every relationship has issues.”

  He snorted.

  “Seriously,” I insisted.

  “We are going to sleep separately. That’s something I let go too far.”

  “Separate beds or separate apartments?”

  “Beds. That’s all I can stand.”

  “All right.” I sighed and rested my head on his shoulder, so grateful that he was in my arms again and that we were together. “I can deal. For now.”

  His throat worked on a hard swallow. “When I came home and found you here—” His arms tightened around me. “God, Eva. I thought Cary was lying about you not being home, that you just didn’t want to see me. Then I thought you might be out . . . moving on.”

  “You’re not that easy to get over, Gideon.” I didn’t think I’d ever get over him. He was in my blood. I straightened so he could see my face.

  He placed his hand over his heart, the hand with the key. “Thank you for this.”

  “Don’t let that go,” I warned again.

  “Don’t regret giving it to me.” He pressed his forehead to mine. I felt the warmth of his breath on my skin and thought he might have whispered something, but I didn’t catch it if he did.

  It didn’t matter. We were together. After the long awful day, nothing else was important.

  Chapter 8

  The sound of my bedroom door opening ended my forgettable dream, but it was the mouthwatering aroma of coffee that really woke me up. I stretched but kept my eyes closed, allowing the anticipation to build.

  Gideon took a seat on the edge of the mattress, and a moment later his fingers drifted across my cheek. “How did you sleep?”

  “I missed you. Is that coffee I smell for me?”

  “If you’re good.”

  My eyes popped open. “But you like me bad.”

  His smile did crazy things to me. He’d dressed already in one of his amazingly sexy suits and looked much better this morning than he had the night before. “I like you bad with me. Tell me about this concert on Friday.”

  “It’s a band called Six-Ninths. That’s all I know. Wanna go?”

  “It’s not a question of whether I want to go. If you’re going, so am I.”

  My brows rose. “Is that right? And what if I hadn’t asked you?”

  He reached for
my hand and gently twirled my promise ring around my finger. “Then you wouldn’t be going, either.”

  “Excuse me?” I shoved my hair back. Noting the set look on his gorgeous face, I sat up. “Gimme that coffee. I want to be caffeinated when I kick your ass.”

  Gideon grinned and handed the mug over.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I warned. “I’m seriously not happy with you telling me I can’t go somewhere.”

  “We’re talking specifically about a rock concert and I didn’t say you couldn’t go, just that you can’t go without me. I’m sorry you don’t like it, but it is what it is.”

  “Who says it’s rock? Maybe it’s classical. Or Celtic. Or pop.”

  “Six-Ninths signed with Vidal Records.”

  “Oh.” Vidal Records was run by Gideon’s stepfather, Christopher Vidal Sr., but Gideon had controlling interest. I wondered how a boy grew up to take over his stepfather’s family business. I figured whatever the reason was, it was also why Gideon’s half brother, Christopher Jr., hated him to the extreme.

  “I’ve seen videos of their indie shows,” he said dryly. “I’m not risking you to a crowd like that.”

  I sucked down a big gulp of coffee. “I get it, but you can’t order me around.”

  “Can’t I? Shh.” He placed his fingers over my lips. “Don’t argue. I’m not a tyrant. I may occasionally have concerns, and you’ll be sensible about acknowledging them.”

  I shoved his hand away. “‘Sensible’ being whatever you’ve decided is best?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  He stood. “We’re not going to fight over a hypothetical situation. You asked me to go to the concert with you on Friday and I said yes. There’s nothing to argue about.”

  Setting my coffee on the nightstand, I kicked off the covers and slid out of bed. “I have to be able to live my life, Gideon. I still have to be me or this won’t work.”