Entwined with You: A Crossfire Novel (Crossfire Book 3)

by Sylvia Day

  I opened the door and was sorry that Cary wasn’t hanging out on the couch. It didn’t even seem like my roommate was home. The lights were off, which was a strong indicator that he was out. He always left lights on in his wake when he was around.

  Hitting the switch, I turned in time to see Brett’s face when the recessed ceiling fixtures lit up the place. I always felt weird when people first realized I had money.

  He looked at me with a frown. “I’m rethinking my career choice.”

  “My job doesn’t pay for this. My stepdad does. For now, anyway.” I went to the kitchen and dropped my purse and bag off on a bar stool.

  “You and Cross hang in the same circles?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Am I too different for you?”

  The question unsettled me, even though it was perfectly valid. “I don’t judge people by their money, Brett. Do you want something to drink?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  I gestured toward the couch and we settled there.

  “So, you didn’t like the video,” he said, laying his arm over the back of the sofa.

  “I didn’t say that!”

  “Didn’t have to. I saw your face.”

  “It’s just really … personal.”

  His green eyes were hot enough to make me flush. “I haven’t forgotten one thing about you, Eva. The video proves that.”

  “That’s because there wasn’t a whole lot for you to remember,” I pointed out.

  “You think I don’t know you, but I bet I’ve seen sides of you Cross never has and never will.”

  “That’s true in reverse.”

  “Maybe,” he conceded, his fingers tapping silently into the cushion. “I’m supposed to fly out at the butt-crack of dawn tomorrow, but I’ll catch a later flight. Come with me. We’ve got shows in Seattle and San Francisco over the weekend. You can head back Sunday night.”

  “I can’t. I have plans.”

  “The weekend after that we’re in San Diego. Come there.” His fingers slid down my arm. “It’ll be like old times, with twenty thousand extra people.”

  I blinked. What were the chances that we’d be home at the same time? “I’ve got plans to be in SoCal then. Just me and Cary.”

  “So we’ll hook up next weekend.”

  “Meet up,” I corrected, standing when he did. “Are you leaving?”

  He stepped closer. “Are you asking me to stay?”

  “Brett …”

  “Right.” He gave me a rueful smile and my heart raced a little. “We’ll see each other next weekend.”

  We walked together to the door.

  “Thank you for inviting me along today,” I told him, feeling oddly sorry that he was going so soon.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t like the video.”

  “I do like it.” I caught his hand. “I do. You did a great job with it. It’s just weird seeing myself from the outside, you know?”

  “Yeah, I get it.” He cupped my cheek with his other hand and bent in for a kiss.

  I turned my head and he nuzzled me instead, the tip of his nose rubbing up and down my cheek. The light scent of his cologne, mingled with the scent of his skin, teased my senses and brought back heated memories. The feel of his body standing so close to mine was achingly familiar.

  I’d once had a mad crush on him. I had wanted him to feel the same way about me in return and now that he did, it was bittersweet.

  Brett gripped my upper arms and groaned softly, the sound vibrating through me. “I remember how you feel,” he whispered, his voice deep and husky. “On the inside. I can’t wait to feel it again.”

  I was breathing too fast. “Thank you for dinner.”

  His lips curved against my cheek. “Call me. I’ll call you no matter what, but it’d be nice for you to call me sometime. Okay?”

  I nodded and had to swallow before speaking. “Okay.”

  He was gone a moment later and I was running to my purse for the burner phone. There was no message from Gideon. No missed call or text.

  Grabbing my keys, I left my apartment and hurried to his, but it was dark and lifeless. I knew the moment I entered that he wasn’t there without having to check the artfully colored glass bowl he emptied his pockets into.

  Feeling like something was very off, I headed back to my place. I dropped my keys on the counter and went to my room, heading straight for the bathroom and a shower.

  The unsettled feeling in my stomach wouldn’t go away, even as I washed the stickiness and grime of the hot afternoon down the drain. I scrubbed shampoo into my scalp and thought over the day, growing angrier by the moment because Gideon was off somewhere doing whatever, instead of being home with me working things out.

  And then I sensed him.

  Rinsing soap out of my eyes, I turned and found him yanking off his tie as he stepped into the room. He looked tired and worn, which troubled me more than anger would have.

  “Hey,” I greeted him.

  He watched me as he stripped with quick, methodical movements. Magnificently naked, he joined me in the shower, walking right into me and pulling me into a tight embrace.

  “Hey,” I said again, hugging him back. “What’s the matter? Are you upset about the video?”

  “I hate the video,” he said bluntly. “I should’ve screened the damn thing when I realized the song was about you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He pulled back and looked down at me. The mist from the shower was slowly dampening his hair. He was infinitely sexier than Brett. And the way he felt about me—and I felt about him in return—was infinitely deeper. “Corinne called right before the video finished. She was … hysterical. Out of control. It concerned me and I went to see her.”

  I took a deep breath, fighting off a flare of jealousy. I had no right to feel that way, especially after the time I’d spent with Brett. “How did that go?”

  He urged my head back with gentle fingers. “Close your eyes.”

  “Talk to me, Gideon.”

  “I will.” As he rinsed the suds from my hair, he said, “I think I figured out what the problem is. She’s been taking antidepressants and they’re not the right prescription for her.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  “She was supposed to let the doctor know how they were working out, but she didn’t even realize she’s been acting so bizarre. It took hours of talking to her to get her to see it, and then pinpoint why.”

  I straightened and wiped my eyes, trying to stem my growing irritation over another woman monopolizing my man’s attention. I couldn’t discount her making up a problem just to keep Gideon spending time with her.

  He swapped places with me, sidestepping under the shower spray. Water coursed down his amazing body, running lovingly over the hard ridges and slabs of muscle.

  “So what now?” I asked.

  He shrugged grimly. “She’ll see her doctor tomorrow to discuss getting off the pills or switching to something else.”

  “Are you supposed to walk her through that?” I complained.

  “She’s not my responsibility.” His gaze held mine, telling me without words that he understood my fear and worry and anger. Just as he’d always understood me. “I told her as much. Then I called Giroux and told him, too. He needs to come take care of his wife.”

  He reached for his shampoo, which rested on a glass shelf with the rest of his personal shower items. He’d moved his stuff into my place pretty much the minute I agreed to date him, just as he had stocked his place with duplicates of my everyday items.

  “She was provoked, though, Eva. Deanna visited her earlier tonight with pictures she took of you and me at the video launch.”

  “Fabulous,” I muttered. “That explains why Deanna was here waiting to ambush me.”

  “Was she really?” he purred dangerously, making me pity Deanna—for about half a second. She was digging herself a nice grave.

  “She probably got shots of you showing up at Corinne’s place and w
anted to rile me.” I crossed my arms. “She’s stalking you.”

  Gideon tipped his head back into the water to rinse, his biceps flexing as he ran his fingers through his hair.

  He was so flagrantly, sexually, beautifully male.

  I licked my lips, aroused by the sight of him despite my irritation with his exes. I closed the distance between us and squeezed some of his body wash into my palm. Then I ran my hands over his chest.

  Groaning, he looked down at me. “I love your hands on me.”

  “That’s good, since I can’t keep my hands off you.”

  He touched my cheek, his eyes soft. He searched my face, maybe gauging whether I was wearing the fuck-me look or not. I didn’t think I was. I wanted him, that never stopped, but I also wanted to enjoy just being with him. That was hard when he was blowing my mind.

  “I needed this,” he said. “Being with you.”

  “It seems like so much is coming at us, doesn’t it? We can’t catch a break. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” My fingertips traced the hard ridges of his abdomen. Desire hummed between us, and that wonderful sense of being near someone who was precious and necessary. “But we’re doing okay, aren’t we?”

  His lips touched my forehead. “We’re hanging in pretty good, I’d say. But I can’t wait to take you away tomorrow. Get out of here for a while, away from everyone, and just have you all to myself.”

  I smiled, delighted by the thought. “I can’t wait, either.”

  I woke when Gideon slipped out of my bed.

  Blinking, I noted that the television was still on, though muted. I’d fallen asleep curled up with him, enjoying our time alone together after all the hours and days we’d been forced to spend apart.

  “Where are you going?” I whispered.

  “To bed.” He touched my cheek. “I’m crashing hard.”

  “Don’t go.”

  “Don’t ask me to stay.”

  I sighed, understanding his fear. “I love you.”

  Bending over me, Gideon pressed his lips to mine. “Don’t forget to put your passport in your purse.”

  “I won’t forget. Are you sure I shouldn’t pack something?”

  “Nothing.” He kissed me again, his lips clinging to mine.

  Then he was gone.

  I wore a light jersey wrap dress to work on Friday, something that could go from work to a long flight easily. I had no idea how far Gideon was taking me, but knew I’d be comfortable no matter what.

  When I got to work, I found Megumi on the phone, so we waved at each other and I headed straight to my cubicle. Ms. Field stopped by just as I settled into my chair.

  The executive chairman of Waters Field & Leaman looked powerful and confident in a soft gray pantsuit.

  “Good morning, Eva,” she said. “Have Mark stop by my office when he gets in.”

  I nodded, admiring her triple-strand black pearl necklace. “Will do.”

  When I passed along the request to Mark five minutes later, he shook his head. “Betcha we didn’t get the Adrianna Vineyards account.”

  “You think?”

  “I hate those damned cattle-call RFPs. They’re not looking for quality and experience. They just want someone who’s hungry enough to give their services away.”

  We’d dropped everything to meet the deadline for the request for proposal, which had been given to Mark to spearhead because he’d done such an amazing job with the Kingsman Vodka account.

  “Their loss,” I told him.

  “I know, but still … I want to win ’em all. Wish me luck that I’m wrong.”

  I gave him a thumbs-up and he headed to Christine Field’s office. My desk phone rang as I was pushing to my feet to grab a cup of coffee from the break room.

  “Mark Garrity’s office,” I answered, “Eva Tramell speaking.”

  “Eva, honey.”

  I exhaled at the sound of my mother’s watery voice. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

  “Will you see me? Maybe we could have lunch?”

  “Sure. Today?”

  “If you could.” She took a breath that sounded like a sob. “I really need to see you.”

  “Okay.” My stomach knotted with concern. I hated hearing my mother so upset. “Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”

  “Clancy and I will come get you. You take lunch at noon, right?”

  “Yes. I’ll meet you at the curb.”

  “Good.” She paused. “I love you.”

  “I know, Mom. I love you, too.”

  We hung up and I stared down at the phone.

  How was our family going to move forward from here?

  I sent a quick text to Gideon, letting him know I’d have to take a rain check on lunch. I needed to get my relationship with my mom back on track.

  Knowing I needed more coffee to tackle the day ahead, I set off to fill up.

  I left my desk exactly at noon and headed down to the lobby. As the hours passed, I grew more and more excited about getting away with Gideon. Away from Corinne, and Deanna, and Brett.

  I’d just passed through the security turnstiles when I saw him.

  Jean-François Giroux stood at the security desk, looking distinctly European and very attractive. His wavy dark hair was longer than it had been in the pictures I’d seen of him, his face less tan and his mouth harder, framed by a goatee. The pale green of his eyes was even more striking in person, even though they were red with weariness. From the small carry-on at his feet, I suspected he’d come straight to the Crossfire from the airport.

  “Mon Dieu. How slow are the elevators in this building?” he asked the security guard in a clipped French accent. “It’s impossible that it should take twenty minutes to come down from the top.”

  “Mr. Cross is on his way,” the guard replied staunchly, remaining in his chair.

  As if he sensed my gaze, Giroux’s head swiveled toward me and his gaze narrowed. He pushed away from the counter, striding toward me. The cut of his suit was tighter than Gideon’s, narrower at the waist and calves. The impression I got of him was too neat and rigid, a man who assumed power by enforcing rules.

  “Eva Tramell?” he asked, startling me with his recognition.

  “Mr. Giroux.” I offered my hand.

  He took it, then surprised me by leaning in and kissing both of my cheeks. Perfunctory, absentminded kisses, but that wasn’t the point. Even for a Frenchman, it was a familiar gesture from someone who was a total stranger to me.

  When he stepped back, I looked at him with raised brows.

  “Would you have time to speak with me?” he asked, still holding my hand.

  “I’m afraid not today.” I tugged away gently. Anonymity was created just by being in a massive space crowded with people rushing to and fro, but with Deanna lurking around, I couldn’t be too careful about who I was seen with. “I have a lunch date and then I’m leaving directly after work.”

  “Tomorrow, perhaps?”

  “I’ll be out of town this weekend. Monday would be the earliest.”

  “Out of town. With Cross?”

  My head canted to the side as I examined him, trying to read him. “That’s really none of your business, but yes.”

  I told the truth so he’d know that Gideon had a woman in his life who wasn’t Corinne.

  “Does it not bother you,” he said, his tone noticeably cooling, “that he used my wife to make you jealous and bring you back to him?”

  “Gideon wants to be friends with Corinne. Friends spend time together.”

  “You’re blond, but surely you can’t be so naïve as to believe that.”

  “You’re stressed,” I countered, “but surely you know you’re being an ass.”

  I registered Gideon’s presence before I felt his hand on my arm.

  “You’ll apologize, Giroux,” he interjected with dangerous softness. “And do so sincerely.”

  Giroux shot him a look so filled with anger and loathing, it made me shift restlessly on my feet. “Making m
e wait is classless, Cross, even for you.”

  “If the insult were intentional, you’d know it.” Gideon’s mouth thinned into a line as sharp as a blade. “The apology, Giroux. I’ve never been anything but polite and respectful to Corinne. You will show Eva the same courtesy.”

  To the casual observer, his pose was loose and relaxed, but I felt the fury in him. I sensed it in both men—one hot and one icy cool, the tension building by the moment. The space around us felt like it was closing in, which was insane considering how wide and deep the lobby was, and how high the ceiling soared.

  Afraid they’d come to blows right there, regardless of being in such a populated space, I reached over and caught Gideon’s hand in mine, giving it a light squeeze.

  Giroux’s gaze dropped to our linked hands, then rose to meet my eyes. “Pardonnez-moi,” he said, inclining his head slightly to me. “You are not at fault here.”

  “Don’t let us hold you up,” Gideon murmured to me, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

  But I lingered, hating to walk away. “You should be with your wife,” I said to Giroux.

  “She should be with me,” he corrected.

  I reminded myself that he hadn’t come after her when she’d left him. He’d been too busy blaming Gideon instead of fixing his marriage.

  “Eva,” my mom called, having come inside to find me. She approached on nude Louboutins, her slender body draped in a soft silk halter dress in a matching hue. In the dark marble-lined lobby, she was a bright spot.

  “Let’s get you on your way, angel,” Gideon said. “Give me a minute, Giroux.”

  I hesitated before walking away. “Good-bye, Monsieur Giroux.”

  “Miss Tramell,” he said, tearing his gaze away from Gideon. “Until next time.”

  I left because I didn’t have a choice, but I didn’t like it. Gideon walked me over to intercept my mom, and I looked at him, letting him see the worry on my face.

  His eyes reassured me. I saw the same latent power and uncompromising control that I’d recognized when we first met. He could handle Giroux. He could handle anything.

  “Enjoy your lunch,” Gideon said, kissing my mom’s cheek before facing me and giving me a quick, hard kiss on the mouth.

  I watched him walk away and was unnerved by the intensity with which Giroux’s eyes followed his return.