Reflected in You

by Sylvia Day

  The detectives took down my phone numbers, then left with Gideon. I watched the three of them walk out, saw my dad eyeing Gideon with a hard speculative look.

  “Maybe he was buying you an engagement ring,” Ireland whispered. “And he doesn’t want to blow the surprise.”

  I squeezed her hand for being sweet and thinking so highly of her brother. I hoped he never let her down or disillusioned her. The way I was now disillusioned. Gideon and I were nothing—we had nothing together—if he couldn’t be honest with me.

  Why hadn’t he told me about Nathan?

  Releasing Cary and Ireland, I stood and went into the kitchen. My dad followed me.

  “Want to fill me in with what’s going on?” he asked.

  “I have no idea. This is all news to me.”

  He leaned his hip into the counter and studied me. “What’s the history with you and Nathan Barker? You heard his name and looked like you were going to pass out.”

  I started rinsing off the dishes and loading the dishwasher. “He was a bully, Dad. That’s all. He didn’t like that his dad remarried, and he especially didn’t like that his new stepmom already had a kid.”

  “Why would Gideon have anything to do with him?”

  “That’s a really good question.” As I gripped the edge of the sink, I bowed my head and closed my eyes. That was what had driven the wedge between me and Gideon—Nathan. I knew it.

  “Eva?” My dad’s hands settled on my shoulders and kneaded into the hard, aching muscles. “Are you okay?”

  “I-I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.” I shut off the water and left the rest of the dishes where they were. I went to the cupboard where we kept our vitamins and over-the-counter medicines and took out two nighttime painkillers. I wanted a deep, dreamless sleep. I needed it, so I could wake up in a condition to figure out what I needed to do.

  I looked at my dad. “Can you take care of Ireland until Gideon gets back?”

  “Of course.” He kissed my forehead. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

  Ireland found me before I could find her. “Are you okay?” she asked, stepping into the kitchen.

  “I’m going to lie down, if you don’t mind. I know that’s rude.”

  “No, it’s okay.”

  “Really, I’m sorry.” I pulled her close for a hug. “We’ll do this again. Maybe a girls’ day? Hit the spa or go shopping?”

  “Sure. Call me?”

  “I will.” I let her go and passed through the living room to get to the hallway.

  The front door opened and Gideon walked in. Our gazes met and held. I could read nothing in his. I looked away, went to my room, and locked the door.

  * * *

  I was up at nine the next morning, feeling groggy and grumpy but no longer overwhelmingly tired. I knew I needed to call Stanton and my mom, but I needed caffeine first.

  I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and shuffled out to the living room. I was almost to the kitchen—the source of the luscious smell of coffee—when the doorbell rang. My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t help the instinctive reaction I had to thoughts of Gideon, who was one of the three people on the list to get past the front desk.

  But when I opened the door, it was my mother. I hoped I didn’t look too disappointed, but I don’t think she noticed anyway. She swept right past me in a seafoam green dress that looked painted on, and she pulled it off as very few women could, somehow making the outfit sexy and elegant and age-appropriate. Of course, she looked young enough to be my sister.

  She raked a glance over my comfortable SDSU sweatpants and camisole before saying, “Eva. My God. You have no idea—”

  “Nathan’s dead.” I shut the door and glanced nervously down the hallway at the guest bedroom, praying that my dad was still functioning on West Coast time and sleeping.

  “Oh.” She turned around and faced me, and I got my first good look at her. Her mouth was thinned with worry, her blue eyes haunted. “Have the police come by already? They only just left us.”

  “They were here last night.” I headed into the kitchen and straight to the coffeemaker.

  “Why didn’t you call us? We should have been with you. You should’ve had a lawyer with you, at the very least.”

  “It was a real quick visit, Mom. Want some?” I held up the carafe.

  “No, thank you. You shouldn’t drink so much of that stuff. It’s not good for you.”

  I put the carafe back and opened the fridge.

  “Dear God, Eva,” my mother muttered, watching me. “Do you realize how many calories are in half-and-half?”

  I set a bottle of water in front of her and moved back to lighten my coffee. “They were here for about thirty minutes and then left. They didn’t get anything out of me beyond Nathan being my former stepbrother and that I haven’t seen him in eight years.”

  “Thank God you didn’t say more.” She twisted open her water.

  I grabbed my mug. “Let’s move to my sitting room.”

  “What? Why? You never sit in there.”

  She was right, but using it would help prevent a surprise run-in between my parents.

  “But you like it,” I pointed out. We entered through my bedroom and I shut the door behind us, breathing a sigh of relief.

  “I do like it,” my mother said, turning to take it all in.

  Of course she liked it; she’d decorated it. I liked it, too, but didn’t really have a use for it. I’d thought about turning it into an adjoining bedroom for Gideon, but everything could be changing now. He’d pulled away from me, hidden Nathan and a dinner with Corinne from me. I wanted an explanation, and depending on what that was, we were going to either recommit to moving forward or take the painful steps to move away from each other.

  My mom settled gracefully on the chaise, her gaze coming to rest on me. “You’ll have to be very careful with the police, Eva. If they want to talk to you again, let Richard know so he can have his lawyers present.”

  “Why? I don’t understand why I should worry about what I say or don’t say. I haven’t done anything wrong. I didn’t even know he was in town.” I watched her gaze skitter away from mine, and my tone firmed. “What’s going on, Mom?”

  She took a drink before speaking. “Nathan showed up in Richard’s office last week. He wanted two and a half million dollars.”

  There was a sudden roaring in my ears. “What?”

  “He wanted money,” she said stiffly. “A lot of it.”

  “Why the hell would he think he’d get any?”

  “He has—had—photos, Eva.” Her lower lip began to quiver. “And video. Of you.”

  “Oh my God.” I set my coffee aside with shaking hands and bent over, putting my head between my knees. “Oh God, I’m going to be sick.”

  And Gideon had seen Nathan—he’d confessed as much when he answered the detectives’ questions. If he’d seen the pictures . . . been disgusted by them . . . it would explain why he cut me off. Why he’d been so tormented when he came to my bed. He might still want me, but he might not be able to live with the images now filling his head.

  It has to be this way, he’d said.

  A horrible sound escaped me. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Nathan might have captured. I didn’t want to.

  No wonder Gideon couldn’t stand to look at me. When he’d made love to me the last time, it had been in utter darkness, where he could hear me and smell me and feel me—but not see me.

  I stifled a scream of pain by biting my forearm.

  “Baby, no!” My mother sank to her knees in front of me, urging me gently off the chair and onto the floor where she could rock me. “Shh. It’s over. He’s dead.”

  I curled into her lap, sobbing, realizing it truly was over—I’d lost Gideon. He would hate himself for turning away from me, but I understood why he might not be able to stop himself. If looking at me now reminded him of his own brutal past, how could he stand it? How could I?

  My mother’s hand stroked ov
er my hair. I felt her crying, too. “Shh,” she hushed me, her voice shaking. “Shh, baby. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

  Eventually there were no more tears left to cry. I was empty, but with that emptiness came new clarity. I couldn’t change what had happened, but I could do what was necessary to make sure that no one I loved suffered for it.

  I sat up and wiped at my eyes.

  “You shouldn’t do that,” my mother scolded. “Rubbing at your eyes like that will give you wrinkles.”

  For some reason, I found her concern for my future crow’s-feet hysterical. I tried to hold it in, but a snorted laugh broke free.

  “Eva Lauren!”

  I thought her indignation was funny, too. I laughed some more, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. I laughed until my sides hurt and I fell over.

  “Oh, stop it!” She shoved at my shoulder. “It’s not funny.”

  I laughed until I managed to squeeze out a few more tears.

  “Eva, really!” But she was starting to smile.

  I laughed until I wasn’t laughing so much as sobbing again, dry and silent. I heard my mother giggling, and that somehow blended perfectly with my racking pain. I couldn’t explain it, but as horrible and hopeless as I felt, my mother’s presence—complete with all her little quirks and admonitions that drove me insane—was just what I needed.

  With my hands on my cramping stomach, I took a deep cleansing breath. “Did he arrange it?” I asked softly.

  Her smiled faded. “Who? Richard? Arrange what? The money? Oh . . .”

  I waited.

  “No!” she protested. “He wouldn’t. His mind doesn’t work that way.”

  “Okay. I just had to know.” I couldn’t see Stanton ordering a hit, either. But Gideon . . .

  I knew from his nightmares that his desire for vengeance was colored by violence. And I’d seen him fight Brett. The memory was seared in my mind. Gideon was capable, and with his history—

  I took a deep breath, then blew it out. “How much do the police know?”

  “Everything.” Her eyes were soft and wet with guilt. “The seal on Nathan’s records was broken when he died.”

  “And how did he die?”

  “They didn’t say.”

  “I suppose it’s not important. We have a motive.” I ran my hand through my hair. “It probably doesn’t matter that we didn’t personally have the opportunity. Your time is accounted for, isn’t it? And Stanton’s?”

  “Yes. And yours, too?”

  “Yes.” But I didn’t know about Gideon’s. Not that it mattered. No one would expect men like Gideon and Stanton to get their hands dirty cleaning up a mess like Nathan.

  We had more than one motive—the blackmail and revenge for what he’d done to me—and means, and means gave us the opportunity.

  * * *

  I brushed my hair again and splashed water on my face, all the while thinking of how I was going to get my mom out of my apartment undetected. When I found her digging through the closet in my bedroom—concerned as always about my style and appearance—I knew what to do.

  “Remember that skirt I picked up at Macy’s?” I asked her. “The green one?”

  “Oh, yes. Very pretty.”

  “I haven’t been able to wear it, because I can’t think of anything I have to go with it. Can you help me find something?”

  “Eva,” she said, exasperated. “You should’ve established a personal style by now—and it shouldn’t be sweats!”

  “Help me out, Mom. I’ll be right back.” I took my coffee mug with me to have a purpose for leaving her. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Where would I go?” she replied, her voice muffled because she’d stepped deeper into my walk-in closet.

  I did a quick check of the living room and kitchen. My dad was nowhere to be seen and his bedroom door was closed, as was Cary’s. I hurried back into my room.

  “How’s this?” she asked, holding up a champagne-hued silk blouse. The combination was gorgeous and classy.

  “I love it! You rock! Thank you. But I’m sure you have to go now, right? I don’t want to hold you up.”

  My mom frowned at me. “I’m not in a hurry.”

  “What about Stanton? This has got to be weighing on his mind. And it’s a Saturday—he always reserves his weekends for you. He needs to have the time with you.”

  And God, did I feel awful for his stress. Stanton had spent a great deal of his time and money on issues pertaining to me and Nathan over the four years he’d been married to my mother. It was too much to ask of anyone, but he’d come through for us. For the rest of my life, I would owe him for loving my mother so much.

  “This is weighing on your mind, too,” she argued. “I want to be here for you, Eva. I want to support you.”

  My throat tightened, understanding that she was trying to make amends for what had happened to me because she was unable to forgive herself. “It’s okay,” I said hoarsely. “I’ll be okay. And honestly, I’d feel terrible keeping you away from Stanton after all he’s done for us. You’re his reward, his little piece of heaven at the end of an endless workweek.”

  Her lips curved in an enchanting smile. “What a lovely thing to say.”

  Yes, I’d thought so, too, the times Gideon had said similar things to me.

  It seemed impossible that only a week before, we’d been at the beach house, madly in love and taking firm, sure steps forward in our relationship.

  But now that relationship was broken, and now I knew why. I was angry and hurt that Gideon had kept something as monumental as Nathan being in New York hidden from me. I was furious that he hadn’t talked to me about what he was thinking and feeling. But I understood, too. He was a man who’d avoided talking about anything personal for years and years, and we hadn’t been together long enough for that lifetime habit to change. I couldn’t blame him for being who he was, just as I couldn’t blame him for deciding that he couldn’t live with what I was.

  With a sigh, I went to my mom and hugged her. “Having you here . . . it’s what I needed, Mama. Crying and laughing and just sitting with you. Nothing could be more perfect than that. Thank you.”

  “Really?” She hugged me tightly, feeling so small and delicate in my arms, even though we were the same size and her heels made her taller. “I thought you were going crazy.”

  I pulled back and smiled. “I think I did for a little bit, but you brought me back. And Stanton is a good man. I’m grateful for all he’s done for us. Please tell him I said so.”

  Linking my arm with hers, I grabbed her clutch from my bed and led her to the front door. She hugged me again, her hands stroking up and down my back. “Call me tonight and tomorrow. I want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

  “All right.”

  She studied me. “And let’s plan on a spa day next week. If the doctor doesn’t approve of Cary going, we’ll have the technicians come here. I think we could all use a little pampering and polish right now.”

  “That’s a really nice way of saying I look like shit.” We were both rough around the edges, although she hid it much better than I did. Nathan was still hanging over us like a dark cloud, still capable of ruining lives and destroying our peace. But we’d pretend that we were better off than we were. That was just the way we did things. “But you’re right—it’ll be good for us and it’ll make Cary feel a whole lot better, even if he can only get a mani and pedi.”

  “I’ll make the arrangements. I can’t wait!” My mother flashed her signature megawatt smile—

  —which is what my dad was hit with when I opened the front door. He stood on the threshold with Cary’s keys in his hand, having been caught just about to slide one into the lock. He was dressed in running shorts and athletic shoes, his sweat-soaked shirt tossed carelessly over his shoulder. Still breathing a little quickly and glistening with sweat over tanned skin and rippling muscles, Victor Reyes was one hot hunk of a man.

  And he was staring at my mom in a way tha
t was totally indecent.

  Tearing my gaze away from my seriously smokin’ dad to look at my glamorous mother, I was shocked to see her looking at my father the same way he was looking at her.

  Of all the times to realize my parents were in love with each other. Well, I’d suspected my dad was heartbroken over my mom, but I thought she’d been embarrassed about him, as if he were a big mistake and error in judgment in her past.

  “Monica.” My dad’s voice was lower and deeper than I’d ever heard it, and more obviously flavored with an accent.

  “Victor.” My mom was breathless. “What are you doing here?”

  One of his brows rose. “Visiting our daughter.”

  “And now Mom has to go,” I prodded, torn between the novelty of seeing my parents together and a loyalty to Stanton, who was exactly what my mother needed. “I’ll call you later, Mom.”

  My dad didn’t move for a moment, his gaze sliding down the length of my mom from head to toe, then gliding back up again. Then he took a deep breath and stepped aside.

  My mom stepped out into the hallway and turned toward the elevator, and then at the last minute she turned back. She placed her palm over my dad’s heart and lifted onto her tiptoes, kissing one of his cheeks and then the other.

  “Good-bye,” she breathed.

  I watched her walk unsteadily to the elevator and push the button, her back to us. My dad didn’t look away until the car doors closed behind her.

  He exhaled in a rush and came into my apartment.

  I shut the door. “How is it that I didn’t know you two are crazy in love with each other?”

  The look in his eyes was painful to witness. The raw agony was like an open wound. “Because it doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I don’t believe that. Love means everything.”

  “It doesn’t conquer all like they say.” He snorted. “Can you see your mother being a cop’s wife?”

  I winced.

  “Right,” he said dryly, wiping his forehead with his shirt. “Sometimes love isn’t enough. And if it’s not enough, what good is it?”

  The bitterness I heard in his words was something I knew very well myself. I passed him and went into the kitchen.