Captivated by You

by Sylvia Day

  “If she has half as much fun with it as Steven,” he said, “she’ll have the time of her life.”

  “Let’s hope she doesn’t have too much fun,” I drawled, remaining on my feet. “I’d like to get past the planning and into the actual wedding.”

  Mark laughed.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I asked.

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Okay. I’ll make this quick.” I took a seat. “I asked you to meet me after work, because it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to offer you a position with Cross Industries while you’re on Waters Field and Leaman’s time.”

  His brows shot up.

  I let that sink in for a second or two. “Cross Industries has a number of diverse international holdings, with a concentration on real estate, entertainment, and premium brands—or assets we believe we can elevate to that status.”

  “Like Kingsman Vodka.”

  “Precisely. For the most part, advertising and marketing campaigns are managed on the ground level, but brand overhauls or adjustments to messaging are approved here. Due to the diversity I mentioned, we’re always reviewing new strategies for rebranding or strengthening an established brand. We could use you.”

  “Wow.” Mark rubbed his palms over his knees. “I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this has caught me off guard.”

  “I’ll pay you twice what you’re making, to start.”

  “That’s a hell of an offer.”

  “I’m not a man who likes the word no.”

  His grin flashed. “I doubt you hear it very often. I guess this means Eva is leaving Waters Field and Leaman?”

  “She hasn’t made that decision yet.”

  “No?” His brows shot up again. “If I leave, she’ll lose her job.”

  “And gain another one here, of course.” I kept my replies as brief and unrevealing as possible. I wanted his cooperation, not questions he might not like the answers to.

  “Is she waiting for me to agree before she takes any steps?”

  “Your decision will be a catalyst.”

  Mark ran a hand over his tie. “I’m both flattered and excited, but—”

  “I understand it’s not a move you were planning on making,” I interjected smoothly. “You’re happy where you’re at, and feel a measure of job security. So I’m prepared to guarantee you the position—and reasonable bonuses and annual raises—for the next three years, barring any misconduct on your part.”

  Leaning forward, I set my fingers on the folder that Scott had left atop the table. I pushed it toward Mark. “All the information is laid out in detail in this. Take it home with you, discuss it with Steven, and let me know your decision on Monday.”

  “Monday?”

  I stood. “I expect you’ll want to give Waters Field and Leaman ample notice and I don’t have a problem with that, but I’ll need to have your commitment as soon as possible.”

  He picked up the folder and rose to his feet. “What if I have questions?”

  “Call me. My card is in the folder.” I glanced at the watch on my wrist. “I’m sorry. I have another appointment.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Mark accepted my extended hand. “I’m sorry. This happened so fast I feel like I haven’t quite processed it all yet. I understand you’ve offered me a fantastic opportunity, though, and I appreciate that.”

  “You’re good at what you do,” I told him honestly. “I wouldn’t make the offer if you weren’t worth it. Think about it, then say yes.”

  He laughed. “I’ll give it some serious thought and you’ll hear from me on Monday.”

  As he left, my head turned toward the building that housed LanCorp’s headquarters. Landon wouldn’t find me with my back turned again.

  —

  “SHE started crying the minute you walked out.”

  I looked at Arnoldo over the rim of my tumbler, which held two fingers of scotch. I swallowed, then asked, “Do you want me to feel guilty about that?”

  “No. I wouldn’t feel sorry for her, either. But I thought you should know that Corinne isn’t completely heartless.”

  “I never thought she was. I just thought she’d given that heart to her husband.”

  Arnoldo lifted one shoulder in a shrug. Dressed in well-worn jeans and a tucked-in white dress shirt that was open at the collar and rolled up at the cuffs, he was drawing a lot of female attention.

  The bar was packed, but our section of the VIP balcony was guarded well, keeping the rest of the patrons at bay. Arnoldo sat on the crescent-shaped sofa where Cary had sat the first night I’d met with Eva outside the Crossfire. The place would always hold strong memories because of her. It was that night when I realized she was changing everything.

  “You look tired,” Arnoldo said.

  “It’s been one of those weeks.” I caught his look. “No, it’s not Eva.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Nothing to say, really. I should’ve been smarter. I let the world see how much she means to me.”

  “Passionate kisses on the street, even more passionate fights in the park.” He smiled ruefully. “What is it they say? Wearing your heart on your sleeve?”

  “I opened the door, now everyone wants to walk through it. She’s the most direct way to fuck with my head, and everyone knows it.”

  “Including Brett Kline?”

  “He’s not an issue any longer.”

  Arnoldo studied me and must have seen whatever he needed to. He nodded. “I’m glad, my friend.”

  “So am I.” I took another drink. “What’s new with you?”

  He waved off the question with a careless sweep of his hand, his gaze sliding around us to take in the women nearby who were swaying to the music of Lana Del Rey. “The restaurant is doing well, as you know.”

  “Yes, I’m very pleased. Exceeded profit projections in every way.”

  “We just filmed some promotional teasers for the new season earlier this week. Once the Food Network starts airing them and the new episodes, we should see a nice boost in business.”

  “I can always say I knew you when.”

  He laughed and clinked his glass to mine when I held it up in a toast.

  We were back on track, which settled some of the unrest I’d been feeling. I didn’t lean on Arnoldo the way Eva leaned on her friends or Cary leaned on her, but Arnoldo was important to me all the same. I didn’t have many people in my life who were close to me. Finding the rhythm he and I had lost was at least one major victory in a week that had seemed like a losing battle.

  18

  “OH MY GOD,” I moaned around a bite of chocolate toffee cupcake, “this is divine.”

  Kristin, the wedding planner, beamed. “It’s one of my favorites, too. Hold on, though. The butter vanilla is even better.”

  “Vanilla over chocolate?” My gaze slid over the yummies on the coffee table. “No way.”

  “I would usually agree,” Kristin said, making a note, “but this bakery made me a convert. The lemon is also very good.”

  The early-afternoon light poured in through the massive windows that made up one side of my mother’s private sitting room, illuminating her pale gold curls and porcelain skin. She’d redecorated recently, opting for soft gray-blue walls that lent a new energy to the space—and complemented her well.

  It was one of her talents, showcasing herself in the best light. It was also one of her major flaws, in my opinion. She cared so damn much about appearances.

  I didn’t understand how my mom could not get bored with decorating to the latest trends, even if it did seem to take over a year to cycle through every room and hallway in Stanton’s six-thousand-plus-square-foot penthouse.

  My one meeting with Blaire Ash had been enough to tell me that the decorating gene had skipped my generation. I’d been interested in his ideas but couldn’t get worked up over the details.

  While I popped another mini cupcake into my mouth with my fingers, my mother daintily speare
d one of the coin-sized cakes with a fork.

  “What are your floral arrangement preferences?” Kristin asked, uncrossing and recrossing long, coffee-hued legs. Her Jimmy Choo heels were elegant but still sexy; her Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress was vintage and classic. She wore her shoulder-length dark hair in tight curls that framed and flattered her narrow face, and pale pink gloss highlighted full, wide lips.

  She looked fierce and fabulous, and I’d liked her the moment we met.

  “Red,” I said, wiping frosting from the corner of my mouth. “Anything red.”

  “Red?” My mother gave an emphatic shake of her head. “How garish, Eva. It’s your first wedding. Go with white, cream, and gold.”

  I stared at her. “How many weddings do you expect me to have?”

  “That’s not what I meant. You’re a first-time bride.”

  “I’m not talking about wearing a red dress,” I argued. “I’m just saying the primary accent color should be red.”

  “I don’t see how that will work, honey. And I’ve put together enough weddings to know.”

  I remembered my mother going through the wedding planning process before, each successive nuptial more elaborate and memorable than the last. Never overdone and always tasteful. Beautiful weddings for a youthful, beautiful bride. I hoped I aged with half as much grace, because Gideon was only going to get hotter as time went on. He was just that kind of man.

  “Let me show you what red can look like, Monica,” Kristin said, pulling a leather portfolio out of her bag. “Red can be amazing, especially with evening weddings. The important thing is that the ceremony and reception represent both the bride and groom. To have a truly memorable day, it’s important that we visually convey their style, history, and hopes for the future.”

  My mother accepted the extended portfolio and glanced at the collage of photos on the page. “Eva . . . you can’t be serious.”

  I shot a look of appreciation at Kristin for having my back, especially when she’d come on board expecting my mother to be footing the bill. Of course, the fact that I was marrying Gideon Cross probably helped sway her to my side. Using him as a future reference would certainly help her draw new clientele.

  “I’m sure there’s a compromise, Mom.” At least I hoped so. I hadn’t dropped the biggest bomb on her yet.

  “Do we have an idea of the budget?” Kristin asked.

  And there it was . . .

  I saw my mom’s mouth open in slow motion and my heart lurched into a semipanicked beat. “Fifty thousand for the ceremony itself,” I blurted out. “Minus the cost of the dress.”

  Both women turned wide eyes toward me.

  My mom gave an incredulous laugh, her hand lifting to touch the Cartier trinity necklace that hung between her breasts. “My God, Eva. What a time to make jokes!”

  “Dad’s paying for the wedding, Mom,” I told her, my voice strengthening now that the moment I’d dreaded had passed.

  She blinked at me, her blue eyes revealing—just for an instant—a sweet softening. Then her jaw tightened. “Your dress alone will cost more than that. The flowers, the venue . . .”

  “We’re getting married on the beach,” I said, the idea just coming to me. “North Carolina. The Outer Banks. At the house Gideon and I just bought. We’ll only need enough flowers for the members of the wedding party.”

  “You don’t understand.” My mom glanced at Kristin for support. “There’s no way that would work. You’d have no control.”

  Meaning she wouldn’t.

  “Unpredictable weather,” she went on, “sand everywhere . . . Plus, asking everyone to travel that far out of the city will make it likely some won’t be able to attend. And where would everyone stay?”

  “Who’s everyone? I told you, the ceremony is going to be small, for friends and family only. Gideon’s taking care of travel. I’m sure he’d be happy to take care of lodging arrangements, too.”

  “I can help with that,” Kristin said.

  “Don’t encourage her!” my mother snapped.

  “Don’t be rude!” I shot back. “I think you’re forgetting that it’s my wedding. Not a publicity op.”

  My mom took a deep, steadying breath. “Eva, I think it’s very sweet that you want to accommodate your father this way, but he doesn’t understand what a burden he’s placing on you by asking this. Even if I matched him dollar for dollar, it wouldn’t be enough—”

  “It’s plenty.” My hands linked tightly together in my lap, pressing the rings on my fingers uncomfortably against the bone. “And it’s not a burden.”

  “You’re going to offend people. You have to understand that a man in Gideon’s position needs to take every opportunity to solidify his network. He’s going to want—”

  “—to elope,” I bit out, frustrated by the too-familiar clash of our viewpoints. “If he had his way, we’d run off somewhere and get married on a remote beach with a couple of witnesses and a great view.”

  “He may say that—”

  “No, Mother. Trust me. That’s exactly what he would do.”

  “Um, if I may.” Kristin leaned forward. “We can make this work, Monica. Many celebrity weddings are private affairs. A limited budget will keep us focused on the details. And, if Gideon and Eva are open to it, we can arrange to have select photographs sold to the celebrity lifestyle magazines, with the profits going to charity.”

  “Oh, I like that!” I said, even as I wondered how that could work with the forty-eight-hour exclusive deal Gideon had offered Deanna Johnson.

  My mom looked distraught. “I’ve dreamed of your wedding since the day you were born,” she said quietly. “I always wanted you to have something fit for a princess.”

  “Mom.” I reached over and took her hand in mine. “You can go wild with the reception, okay? Do whatever you want. Skip the red, invite the world, whatever. As for the wedding, isn’t it enough that I found my prince?”

  Her hand tightened on mine and she looked at me with tears in her blue eyes. “I guess it’ll have to be.”

  —

  I’D just slid into the back of the Benz when my smartphone started ringing. Pulling it out of my purse, I looked at the screen and saw it was Trey. My stomach twisted a little.

  I couldn’t get the shattered look on his face last night out of my mind. I’d stayed tucked away in the kitchen while Cary sat with Trey in the living room and told him about Tatiana and the baby. I had put a pot roast in the oven and sat at the breakfast bar with my tablet, reading a book while staying in Cary’s line of sight. Even in profile, I could see how hard Trey had taken the news.

  Still, he’d stayed for dinner and then overnight, so I hoped things would work out in the end. At least he hadn’t just walked out.

  “Hi, Trey,” I answered. “How are you?”

  “Hey, Eva.” He sighed heavily. “I have no idea how I am. How are you doing?”

  “Well, I’m just leaving my mother’s place after spending hours talking about the wedding. It didn’t go as badly as it could have, but it could’ve been smoother. But that’s pretty usual when dealing with my mom.”

  “Ah . . . well, you’ve got a lot on your plate. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “Trey. It’s fine. I’m glad you called. If you want to talk, I’m here.”

  “Could we get together, maybe? Whenever it’s convenient for you?”

  “How’s now?”

  “Really? I’m at a street fair on the west side. My sister dragged me out and I was miserable company. She ditched me a few minutes ago and now I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing here.”

  “I can meet you.”

  “I’m between Eighty-second and Eighty-third, close to Amsterdam. It’s packed here, just FYI.”

  “Okay, hang tight. I’ll see you in a few.”

  “Thanks, Eva.”

  We hung up and I caught Raúl’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Amsterdam and Eighty-second. Close as you can get.”

  He nodded.
r />   “Thanks.” I looked out the window as we turned a corner, taking in the city on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

  The pace of Manhattan was slower on the weekends, the clothes more casual, and the street vendors more plentiful. Women in sandals and light summer dresses window-shopped leisurely, while men in shorts and T-shirts traveled in groups, taking in the women and discussing whatever it was men discussed. Dogs of all sizes pranced on the ends of leashes, while children in strollers kicked up their heels or napped. An elderly couple shuffled along hand in hand, still lost in the wonder of each other after years of familiarity.

  I was speed-dialing Gideon before I realized I’d thought of it.

  “Angel,” he answered. “Are you on your way home?”

  “Not quite. I’m done at my mom’s, but I’m going to meet Trey.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “I’m not sure. Not more than an hour, I think. God, I hope he doesn’t tell me he’s done with Cary.”

  “How did it go with your mother?”

  “I told her we were getting married on the beach by the Outer Banks house.” I paused. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you first.”

  “I think that’s an excellent idea.” His raspy voice took on the special timbre that told me he was moved.

  “She asked me how we’re planning on lodging everyone. I kinda dropped that on you and the wedding planner.”

  “That’s fine. We’ll work something out.”

  Love for him spread through me in a warm rush. “Thank you.”

  “So the big hurdle’s behind you,” he said, understanding as he so often did.

  “Well, I don’t know about that. She got all teary about it. You know, she had big dreams that aren’t coming true. I hope she lets them go and gets on board.”

  “What about her family? We haven’t talked about making arrangements for them to come.”

  I shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “They’re not invited. The only things I know about them are what I found with a Google search. They disowned my mom when she got pregnant with me, so they’ve never been a part of my life.”