by Sylvia Day
My stomach twisted. The secrets between us were mounting. I couldn’t stand it.
“Eva.”
I jerked out of my thoughts at the sound of my best friend’s voice. He was striding toward me wearing loose-fitting cargo shorts and a V-neck T-shirt. He kept his shades on, and with his hands shoved in his pockets, he seemed distant and cool. Heads turned as he walked by and he didn’t notice, his attention on me.
My feet moved. I was hurrying toward him before I thought of it, then ran straight into him so hard, his breath left him with a grunt. I hugged him, my cheek pressed to his chest.
“I missed you,” I said, meaning it with all my heart, even though he wouldn’t know exactly why.
He muttered something under his breath and hugged me. “Pain in the ass sometimes, baby girl.”
Pulling back, I looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
He linked his fingers with mine and led me out of the Crossfire. We went to the place with the great tacos that we’d gone to the last time he had met me for lunch. They also had great slushy virgin margaritas, which were perfect on a steamy summer day.
After waiting in line about ten minutes, I ordered only two tacos, since I hadn’t hit the gym in way too long. Cary ordered six. We snagged a table just as its former occupants cleared away, and Cary inhaled a taco before I’d barely taken the wrapper off my straw.
“I’m sorry about the voice mail,” I said.
“You don’t get it.” He swiped a napkin across lips that turned sane women into giggling girls when he smiled. “It’s the whole situation, Eva. You leave me a message telling me to think about sharing a place with Cross, after you tell your mom that it’s a done deal and before you fall off the face of the earth for the weekend. I guess however I feel about it means jack shit to you.”
“That’s not true!”
“Why would you want a roommate when you’re living with a boyfriend anyway?” he asked, clearly getting warmed up. “And why would you think I’d want to be a third wheel?”
“Cary—”
“I don’t need any fucking handouts, Eva.” His emerald eyes narrowed. “I’ve got places I can crash, other people I can room with. Don’t do me any favors.”
My chest tightened. I wasn’t ready to let Cary go yet. Someday in the future, we’d be heading our separate ways, maybe only seeing each other on special occasions. But that time wasn’t now. It couldn’t be. Just thinking about it screwed with my head.
“Who says I’m doing it for you?” I shot back. “Maybe I just can’t bear the thought of not having you nearby.”
He snorted and ripped a bite out of his taco. Chewing angrily, he swallowed his food down with a long draw on his straw. “What am I, your three-year chip marking your recovery? Your celebratory token for Eva Anonymous?”
“Excuse me.” I leaned forward. “You’re mad, I get it. I’ve said I’m sorry. I love you and I love having you in my life, but I’m not going to sit here and get kicked because I fucked up.”
I pushed away from the table and stood. “I’ll catch you later.”
“You and Cross getting married?”
Pausing, I looked down at him. “He asked. I said yes.”
Cary nodded, as if that were no surprise, and took another bite. I grabbed my purse from where it hung on the back of my chair.
“Are you afraid of living alone with him?” he asked around his chewing.
Of course he’d think that. “No. He’ll be sleeping in his own bedroom.”
“Has he been sleeping in a separate room the last few weekends you’ve been shacking up with him?”
I stared. Did he know for a fact that Gideon was the “loverman” I’d been spending time with? Or was he just fishing? I decided I didn’t care. I was tired of lying to him. “Mostly, yes.”
He set his taco down. “Finally, some truth out of you. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten how to be honest.”
“Fuck you.”
Grinning, he gestured at my vacant chair. “Sit your ass back down, baby girl. We’re not done talking.”
“You’re being a jerk.”
His smile faded and his gaze hardened. “Being lied to for weeks makes me cranky. Sit down.”
I sat and glared at him. “There? Happy?”
“Eat. I’ve got shit to say.”
Exhaling my frustration, I slung my purse over the chair again and faced him with my brows raised.
“If you think,” he began, “that being sober and working steadily broke my bullshit meter, now you know better. I knew you were nailing Cross again from the moment you started back up.”
Biting into my taco, I shot him a skeptical look.
“Eva honey, don’t you think that if there were another man in New York who could bang it out all night like Cross, I would’ve found him by now?”
I coughed and nearly spit out my food.
“No one’s lucky enough to find two guys like that in a row,” he drawled. “Not even you. You should’ve had a dry spell or at least a couple of really bad lays first.”
I threw my wadded-up straw wrapper at him, which he dodged with a laugh.
Then he sobered. “Did you think I would judge you for getting back together with him after he jacked up?”
“It’s more complicated than that, Cary. Things were … a mess. There was a lot of pressure. Still is, with that reporter stalking Gideon—”
“Stalking him?”
“Totally. I just didn’t want …” You exposed. Vulnerable. Open to accusation as an accomplice after the fact. “I just had to let it play out,” I finished lamely.
He let that sink in, then nodded. “And now you’re going to marry him.”
“Yes.” I took a drink, needing to loosen the lump in my throat. “But you’re the only one who knows that besides us.”
“Finally, a secret you let me in on.” His lips pursed for a few seconds. “And you still want me to live with you.”
I leaned forward again, holding out my hand for his. “I know you can do something else, go somewhere else. But I’d rather you didn’t. I’m not ready to be without you yet, married or not.”
He gripped my hand so tightly, my bones pressed together. “Eva—”
“Wait,” I said quickly. He was far too serious all of a sudden. I didn’t want him to cut me off before I put everything out there. “Gideon’s penthouse has an adjacent one-bedroom apartment he doesn’t use.”
“A one-bedroom apartment. On Fifth Avenue.”
“Yeah. Great, right? All yours. Your own space and entrance and view of Central Park. But still connected to me. The best of both worlds.” I rushed on, hoping to say something he’d latch on to. “We’ll stay on the Upper West Side for a bit, while I make changes to the penthouse. Gideon says we can have whatever changes you want made to your apartment done at the same time.”
“My apartment.” He stared at me, which made me even more nervous. A man and a woman tried to squeeze between our table and the back of an occupied chair that was pushed too far out into the walkway, but I ignored them.
“I’m not talking about a handout,” I assured him. “I’ve been thinking that I’d like to put that money I’ve been sitting on to work. Create a foundation or something to decide how to use it in support of causes and charities we believe in. I need your help. And I’ll pay you for it. Not just for your input, but for your face. I want you to be the foundation’s first spokesperson.”
Cary’s grip on my hand slackened.
Alarmed, I tightened mine. “Cary?”
His shoulders sagged. “Tatiana’s pregnant.”
“What?” I felt the blood drain from my face. The little restaurant was hopping, and the shouting of orders behind the counter and the clatter of trays and utensils made it hard to hear, but I’d caught the two words that fell out of Cary’s mouth as if he’d shouted them at me. “Are you kidding?”
“I wish.” He pulled his hand away and scooped back the bangs that draped over one eye. “Not t
hat I don’t want a kid. That part’s cool. But … fuck. Not now, you know? And not with her.”
“How the hell did she get pregnant?” Cary was religious about protecting himself, knowing damn well he lived a high-risk lifestyle.
“Well, I shoved my dick in her and pushed it around—”
“Shut up,” I bit out. “You’re careful.”
“Yeah, well, putting a sock on it isn’t guaranteed protection,” he said wearily, “and Tat doesn’t take the pill because she says it makes her break out and eat too much.”
“Jesus.” My eyes stung. “Are you sure it’s yours?”
He snorted. “No, but that doesn’t mean it’s not. She’s six weeks along, so it’s possible.”
I had to ask. “Is she going to keep it?”
“I don’t know. She’s thinking it over.”
“Cary …” I couldn’t hold back the tear that slid down my cheek. My heart was aching for him. “What are you going to do?”
“What can I do?” He slumped back in his chair. “It’s her decision.”
His powerlessness had to be killing him. After his mother had given birth to him, unwanted, she’d used abortion as birth control. I knew that haunted him. He’d told me so. “And if she decides to go through with the pregnancy? You’ll have a paternity test done, right?”
“God, Eva.” He looked at me with reddened eyes. “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. What the hell am I supposed to say to Trey? Things are just starting to smooth out between us and I’ve got to hit him with this? He’s going to dump me. It’s over.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I straightened in my chair. I couldn’t let Cary and Trey fall apart. Now that Gideon and I were good, it was time to fix all the other areas of my life I’d been neglecting. “We’ll take it a step at a time. Figure things out as we go. We’ll get through this.”
He swallowed hard. “I need you.”
“I need you, too. We’ll stick together and work it out.” I managed a smile. “I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. Except to San Diego this weekend,” I amended hastily, reminding myself to talk to Gideon about that.
“Thank God.” Cary sat forward again. “What I wouldn’t give to shoot hoops at Dr. Travis’s right now.”
“Yeah.” I didn’t play basketball, but I knew I could use a one-on-one with Dr. Travis myself.
What would he say when he learned how far off the rails we’d slid in the few months we’d been in New York? We had spun some big dreams the last time we’d all sat down together. Cary had wanted to star in a Super Bowl ad and I’d wanted to be the one behind the scenes of that ad. Now he was facing the possibility of a baby and I was married to the most complicated man I had ever met.
“Dr. Trav’s gonna flip,” Cary muttered, reading my mind.
For some reason, that made us both laugh ’til we cried.
WHEN I got back to my desk, I found another small pile of interoffice envelopes. Catching my lower lip between my teeth, I searched each one until I found the one I was hoping for.
I CAN THINK OF MANY USES FOR THAT CHAIN,
MRS. X.
YOU WILL ENJOY THEM ALL IMMENSELY.
YOURS,
X
Some of the dark clouds from lunch floated away.
AFTER Cary’s mind-blowing revelation, meeting Giroux after work barely registered on my what-else-could-possibly-go-wrong-next scale.
He was already at the wine bar when I arrived. Dressed in perfectly pressed khakis and white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and open at the throat, he looked good. Casual. But that didn’t make him seem more relaxed. The man was strung tight as a bow, vibrating with tension and whatever else was eating at him.
“Eva,” he greeted me. With that overt friendliness I hadn’t liked the first time, he kissed me on both cheeks again. “Enchanté.”
“Not too blond for you today, I take it?”
“Ah.” He gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I deserved that.”
I joined him at his table by the window and we were served shortly after.
The place had the look of an establishment that had been around a long time. Tin tiles covered the ceiling, while the aged hardwood floors and intricately carved bar suggested the place had been a pub at some point in its history. It had been modernized with chrome fixtures and a wine rack behind the bar that could have been an abstract sculpture.
Giroux openly studied me as the server poured our wine. I had no idea what he was looking for, but he was definitely searching for something.
As I took a sip of a lovely shiraz, he settled comfortably in his chair and swirled his wine around in his glass. “You’ve met my wife.”
“I have, yes. She’s very beautiful.”
“Yes, she is.” His gaze dropped to his wine. “What else did you think of her?”
“Why does it matter what I think?”
He looked at me again. “Do you see her as a rival? Or a threat?”
“Neither.” I took another drink and noticed a black Bentley SUV easing into a tight spot at the curb just outside the window I sat beside. Angus was behind the wheel and apparently uncaring of the No PARKING sign he was camping out in front of.
“You are that certain of Cross?”
My attention returned to Giroux. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish you would pack up your wife and take her back to France with you.”
His mouth quirked on one side in a grim smile. “You are in love with Cross, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
That made me smile. “If you think you can figure out what Corinne sees in him by what I see in him, forget it. He and I, we’re … different with each other than we are with other people.”
“I saw that. With him.” Giroux took a drink, savoring it before swallowing.
“Forgive me, but I don’t know why we’re sitting here. What do you want from me?”
“Are you always so direct?”
“Yes.” I shrugged. “I get impatient with being confused.”
“Then I will be direct as well.” He reached out and caught my left hand. “You have a tan line from a ring. A sizable one, it appears. An engagement ring, perhaps?”
I looked at my hand and saw he was right. There was a square-sized spot on my ring finger that was a few shades lighter than the rest of my skin. Unlike my mother, who was pale, I’d inherited my father’s warm skin tone and I tanned easily.
“You’re very perceptive. But I would appreciate you keeping your speculations to yourself.”
He smiled and for the first time, it was genuine. “Perhaps I will get my wife back after all.”
“I think you could, if you tried.” I sat up, deciding it was time to leave. “You know what your wife told me once? She said you’re indifferent. Instead of waiting for her to come back, you should just take her back. I think that’s what she wants.”
He stood when I did, standing over me. “She has chased Cross. I do not think a woman who chases will find a man chasing her attractive.”
“I don’t know about that.” I pulled a twenty out of my pocket and set it on the table, despite his scowl at the sight of it. “She said yes when you asked her to marry you, didn’t she? Whatever you did before, do it again. Good-bye, Jean-François.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but I was already halfway out the door.
ANGUS was waiting beside the Bentley when I exited the wine bar.
“Would you like to go home, Mrs. Cross?” he asked, as I slipped into the back.
His greeting made me grin. Combined with my recent conversation with Giroux, it sparked an idea. “Actually, I’d like to make a stop, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
I gave him directions, then sat back and relished the building anticipation.
IT was half past six when I was ready to call it a day, but when I asked Angus where Gideon was, I learned he was still in his office.
“Will you take me to him
?” I asked.
“Of course.”
Returning to the Crossfire after hours was weird. Although there were still people moving through the lobby, it had a different feel from the daytime. When I reached the top floor, I found the glass security doors to Cross Industries propped open and a cleaning crew at work emptying trash cans, wiping down the glass, and vacuuming.
I headed directly to Gideon’s office, noting the number of empty desks, which included that of Scott, his assistant. Gideon stood behind his, an earpiece in his ear, and his jacket hung on the coat rack in the corner. His hands were on his hips and he was talking, his lips moving rapidly and his face a mask of concentration.
The wall across from him was covered in flat screens streaming news from around the world. To the right of that was a bar with jeweled decanters on lighted glass shelves that were the only spot of color in the office’s cool palette of black, white, and gray. Three distinct seating areas offered comfortable spaces for less formal meetings, while Gideon’s black desk was a miracle of modern technology, serving as the conduit for all the electronics in the room.
Surrounded by his expensive toys, my husband looked nothing short of edible. The beautifully tailored lines of his vest and pants showed off the perfection of his body, and the sight of him at his command center, wielding the power that had built his empire, did crazy things to my heart. The floor-to-ceiling windows that surrounded him on two sides allowed the view of the city to make an imposing backdrop, yet the vista didn’t diminish him in any way.
Gideon was master of all he surveyed, and it showed.
Reaching into my purse, I unzipped the small pocket and drew out the rings inside it, slipping mine on. Then I stepped closer to the glass wall and double doors that separated him from everyone else.
His head swiveled toward me and his gaze heated at the sight of me. He hit a button on his desk, and the double doors swung open automatically. A moment later, the glass turned opaque, ensuring that no one lingering in the office would be able to see us.
I went in.
“I agree,” he said, to whomever he was talking to. “Get it done and report back to me.”
As he pulled off his earpiece and dropped it on his desk, his gaze never left me. “You’re a welcome surprise, angel. Tell me about your meeting with Giroux.”
