by Sylvia Day
“I’m going to take you up on that,” she warned, as she shook his hand.
“Please do. Do you have any particular fitness goals?”
As they started talking more in-depth, my gaze wandered. I checked out the equipment, looking for something easy I could do while I waited for them to wrap it up. Instead I found a familiar sight.
Tossing my towel over my shoulder, I noticed my not-so-favorite reporter on the floor. I took a deep breath and walked over, watching her do curls with a ten-pound hand weight. Her dark brown hair was in a fishtail braid, her long legs on display in skintight shorts, and her stomach tight and flat. She looked great. “Hi, Deanna.”
“I’d ask if you come here often,” she replied, setting the weight back on the rack and standing, “but that’s too clichéd. How are you, Eva?”
“I’m good. You?”
Her smile had the edge that never failed to get my back up. “Doesn’t it bother you that Gideon Cross buries his sins under all his money?”
So Gideon had been right about Ian Hager disappearing once he’d gotten paid. “If I really thought you were after the truth, I’d give it to you.”
“It’s all true, Eva. I’ve talked to Corinne Giroux.”
“Oh? How’s her husband?”
Deanna laughed. “Gideon should hire you to manage his public image.”
That struck uncomfortably close to home. “Why don’t you just go to his office and chew him out? Let him have it. Throw a drink in his face or slap him.”
“He wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference to him.”
I wiped at the sweat still sliding down my temples and admitted that might be true. I knew damn well Gideon could be a coldhearted ass. “Either way, you’d probably feel a whole lot better.”
Deanna snatched her towel off the bench. “I know exactly what’ll make me feel better. Enjoy the rest of your workout, Eva. I’m sure we’ll be talking again soon.”
She sauntered off and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was on to something. It made me twitchy not knowing what it was.
“Okay, I’m done,” Megumi said, joining me. “Who was that?”
“No one important.” My stomach chose that moment to growl, loudly announcing that I’d burned off the boeuf bourguignon I’d had for lunch.
“Working out always makes me hungry, too. You want to grab dinner?”
“Sure.” We set off toward the showers, skirting equipment and other members. “I’ll call Cary and see if he wants to join us.”
“Oh, yes.” She licked her lips. “Have I told you I think he’s delicious?”
“More than once.” I waved bye to Daniel before we left the floor.
We reached the locker room and Megumi tossed her towel in the discard bin just inside the entrance. I paused before dropping mine, my thumb rubbing over the embroidered CrossTrainer logo. I thought of the towels hanging in Gideon’s bathroom.
Maybe next time I’d be calling him, too, asking him to join friends and me for dinner.
Maybe the worst was over.
WE found an Indian restaurant near the gym and Cary showed up for dinner with Trey, the two of them walking in with their hands linked together. Our table was right in front of the street-level window by the entrance, which lent the pulse of the city to our dining experience.
We sat on cushions on the floor, drank a little too much wine, and let Cary run commentary on the people passing by. I could almost see little hearts in Trey’s eyes when he looked at my best friend, and I was happy to see Cary being openly affectionate in return. When Cary was really into someone, he held himself back from touching him or her. I deliberately chose to see his frequent, casual touching with Trey as a sign of the two men growing closer, rather than Cary losing interest.
Megumi got another call from Michael while we were eating, which she ignored. When Cary asked if she was playing hard to get, she told him the story.
“If he calls again, let me answer it,” he said.
“Oh, God, no,” I groaned.
“What?” Cary blinked innocently. “I can say she’s too tied up to get to the phone and Trey can bark out sex commands in the background.”
“Diabolical!” Megumi rubbed her hands together. “Michael’s not the right guy for that, but I’m sure I’ll take you up on that offer someday, knowing my luck with men.”
Shaking my head, I dug stealthily into my purse for the burner phone and was bummed to see there was still no reply from Gideon.
Cary made a show of peering over the table. “You hoping for a booty call from loverman?”
“What?” Megumi’s mouth fell open. “You’re seeing someone and didn’t tell me?”
I shot a narrow-eyed look at Cary. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s the total opposite of complicated,” Cary drawled, rocking back on his pillow. “It’s straight-up lust.”
“What about Cross?” she asked.
“Who?” Cary shot back.
Megumi persisted. “He wants her back.”
It was Cary’s turn to glare at me. “When did you talk to him?”
I shook my head. “He called Mom. And he didn’t say he wanted me back.”
Cary’s smile was sly. “Would you ditch your new loverman for a repeat with Cross, the marathon man?”
Megumi poked me in the leg. “Gideon Cross is a marathon man in bed? Holy shit … And he looks like that. Jesus.” She fanned herself with her hand.
“Can we please stop talking about my sex life?” I muttered, looking to Trey for a little support.
He jumped in. “Cary tells me you two are going to a video premiere tomorrow. I didn’t realize music videos were a big thing anymore.”
I grasped at the lifeline gratefully. “I know, right? Surprises me, too.”
“And then there’s good ol’ Brett,” Cary said, leaning across the table toward Megumi like he was about to impart a secret. “We’ll call him backstage man. Or backseat man.”
I stuck my fingers in my glass and flicked water at him.
“Why, Eva. You’re making me wet.”
“Keep it up,” I warned,” and you’ll be soaked.”
I still hadn’t heard from Gideon by the time we got home at quarter to ten. Megumi had taken the subway back to her place, while Cary, Trey, and I shared a cab back to the apartment. The guys headed straight to Cary’s room, but I lingered in the kitchen, debating whether I should run next door and see if Gideon was there.
I was about to pull my keys out of my purse when Cary came into the kitchen, shirtless and barefoot.
He grabbed whipped cream out of the fridge but paused before he headed back out. “You okay?”
“Yep, I’m good.”
“You talk to your mom yet?”
“No, but I’m planning on it.”
He leaned his hip against the counter. “Anything else on your mind?”
I shooed him off. “Go have fun. I’m all right. We can talk tomorrow.”
“About that. What time should I be ready?”
“Brett wants to pick us up at five, so can you meet me at the Crossfire?”
“No problem.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Sweet dreams, baby girl.”
I waited until I heard Cary’s door shut, then grabbed my keys and went next door. The moment I entered the dark and quiet apartment, I knew Gideon wasn’t there, but I searched the rooms anyway. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was … off.
Where was he?
Deciding to call Angus, I walked back to my apartment, grabbed the burner phone, and took it into my bedroom.
And found Gideon gripped in a nightmare.
Startled, I shoved my door shut and locked it. He thrashed on my bed, his back arching with a hiss of pain. He was still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his big body stretched atop the comforter as if he’d fallen asleep waiting for me. His laptop had been knocked to the floor, still open, and papers were crackling under the violenc
e of his movements.
I rushed to him, trying to figure out a way to wake him that wouldn’t put me in danger, knowing he’d hate himself if he hurt me by accident.
He growled, a low feral sound of aggression. “Never,” he bit out. “You’ll never touch her again.”
I froze.
His body jerked violently, and then he moaned and curled to his side, shuddering.
The sound of his pain galvanized me. I climbed onto the bed, my hand touching his shoulder. The next moment I was on my back, pinned as he loomed over me, his eyes fixed and sightless. Fear paralyzed me.
“You’re going to know what it feels like,” he whispered darkly, his hips ramming against mine in a sick imitation of the love we shared.
I turned my head and bit his biceps, my teeth barely denting the rigid muscle.
“Fuck!” He yanked away from me and I dislodged him as Parker had taught me to do, throwing him to the side and freeing myself to leap from the bed and run.
“Eva!”
Spinning, I faced him, my body poised to fight.
He slid from the bed, nearly landing on his knees before he found his balance and straightened. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep … Christ, I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine,” I said, with forced calm. “Relax.”
He raked a hand through his hair, his chest heaving. His face was sheened with sweat, his eyes reddened. “God.”
I stepped closer, fighting the lingering fear. This was part of our lives. We both had to face it. “Do you remember the dream?”
Gideon swallowed hard and shook his head.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Damn it. You have to—”
“You were dreaming about Nathan. How often do you do that?” I reached him and took his hand.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not!” he snapped, bristling. “I rarely remember my dreams.”
I pulled him toward the bathroom, deliberately keeping him moving forward both physically and mentally. “The detectives came to see me today.”
“I know.”
The hoarseness of his voice concerned me. How long had he been asleep and dreaming? The thought of him tormented by his own mind, alone and in pain, wounded me. “Did they visit you, too?”
“No. But they’ve been making inquiries.”
I flicked the lights on and he stopped, his grip tightening to make me stop, too. “Eva.”
“Hop in the shower, ace. We’ll talk when you’re done.”
He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbone. “You’re moving too fast. Slow down.”
“I don’t want to get hung up every time you have a nightmare.”
“Take a minute,” he murmured, lowering his forehead to rest against mine. “I frightened you. I’m frightened. Let’s just take a minute and deal with that.”
I softened, my hand coming up to rest over his racing heart.
He buried his nose in my hair. “Let me smell you, angel. Feel you. Say I’m sorry.”
“I’m okay.”
“It’s not okay,” he argued, his voice still low and coaxing. “I should’ve waited for you at our place.”
I rested my cheek against his chest, loving the idea of “our” place. “I’ve been checking my phone all night, waiting for a text or message.”
“I worked late.” His hands slid under my shirt, brushing over the bare skin of my back. “Then I came here. I wanted to surprise you … make love to you …”
“I think we might be free,” I whispered, clutching at his shirt. “The detectives … I think we’re going to be okay.”
“Explain.”
“Nathan had this bracelet he always wore—”
“Sapphires. Very feminine.”
I looked up at him. “Yes.”
“Go on.”
“They found it on the arm of a dead mob guy. Russian Mafia. They’re running with the theory that it was a criminal association gone bad.”
Gideon stood very still, his gaze narrowed. “That’s interesting.”
“It’s weird. They were talking about photos of me and sex trafficking, which just doesn’t mesh with—”
His fingers pressed against my lips, quieting me. “It’s interesting because Nathan was wearing that bracelet when I left him.”
I watched Gideon take a shower while I brushed my teeth. His soapy hands slid over his body with economical indifference, his movements brisk and rough. There was none of the intimate worship I caressed him with, none of the awe or love. He was done in minutes, stepping out of the shower in all his nude glory before grabbing a towel and scrubbing away the water on his skin.
He came up behind me when he was done, gripping my hips and pressing a kiss to my nape. “I don’t have any underworld ties,” he murmured.
I finished rinsing my mouth and looked at him through the mirror. “Does it bother you to have to say that to me?”
“I’d rather say it than have you ask.”
“Someone went to a lot of trouble to protect you.” Turning, I faced him. “Could it be Angus?”
“No. Tell me how the mob guy died.”
My fingertips drifted over the ridges of his abdomen, loving the way the muscles flexed and clenched in response to my touch. “One of his own took him out. Retaliation. He was under surveillance, so Graves said they’ve got proof of that.”
“So it’s someone connected, then. To either the mob or the authorities, or both. Whoever’s responsible, they chose a fall guy who could take the blame and not pay for it.”
“I don’t care who arranged it, just so long as you’re safe.”
He kissed my forehead. “We need to care,” he said softly. “To protect me, they have to know what I did.”
15
SHORTLY AFTER FIVE in the morning, I went from unconscious to wide awake in a heartbeat. The remnants of a dream clung to me, one in which I’d still believed Gideon and I had broken up. Loneliness and grief weighed me down, pinning me to the bed for several minutes. I wished Gideon were beside me. I wished I could just roll over and press my body to his.
Partly due to my period, we hadn’t had sex the night before. Instead, we had enjoyed the simple comfort of just being together. We’d curled up on my bed and watched television until the exhaustion of my overkill run on the treadmill pulled me under.
I loved those quiet moments when we just held each other. When the sexual attraction simmered just beneath the surface. I loved the feel of his breath on my skin and the way my curves fit into his hard planes as if we’d been designed for each other.
Sighing, I knew what had me on edge. It was Thursday and Brett was coming to New York, if he wasn’t in the city already.
Gideon and I were just starting to find a new rhythm again, which made it the worst possible time for Brett to come back into my life. I was anxious about something going wrong, some gesture or look that would be misconstrued and cause fresh problems for Gideon and me to work through.
It’d be the first time Gideon and I would be out together in public since our “breakup.” That was going to be torture. Standing next to Brett while my heart was with Gideon.
Sliding from bed, I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, and then pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank top. I needed to be with Gideon. We needed to spend some time together before the day started with a vengeance.
I moved quietly from my apartment to his, feeling slightly naughty as I ran down the corridor to his—our—front door.
Once I’d gone inside, I tossed my keys on the breakfast bar and headed down the hallway to the guest room. He wasn’t there and my heart sank, but I kept searching, because I could feel him. There was a tingling awareness I experienced only when he was nearby.
I found him in the master bedroom, his arms wrapped around my pillow as he slept partially on his stomach. The sheet clung to his hips, leaving his powerful back and sculpted arms bare, and revealing just a hint o
f the topmost curve of his amazing ass.
He looked like an erotic fantasy come to life. And he was mine.
I loved him so much.
And I wanted him to wake up to me, at least once, with pleasure instead of fear, sadness, and regret.
I undressed quietly in the early light of dawn, my thoughts spinning with ways I could pleasure my man. I wanted to run my hands and mouth all over him, make him breathless and hot, feel his body quiver. I wanted to reaffirm our connection to each other, my whole and irrevocable commitment to him, before the harsh realities we faced came between us.
As my knee sank into the mattress, he stirred. I crawled to him, pressing my lips to the small of his back and working my way up slowly.
“Umm. Eva,” he said in a husky voice, lightly stretching beneath me.
“You better hope it’s me, ace.” I nipped his shoulder blade. “This would turn out bad for you, if not.”
I lowered onto him, laying my body over his. His warmth was divine and I took a moment to savor it.
“It’s early for you,” he murmured, resting easily, just as content as I was to be touching each other.
“Way,” I agreed. “You’re hugging my pillow.”
“Smells like you. Helps me sleep.”
I brushed his hair aside and pressed my lips to his throat. “That’s a beautiful thing to say. I wish I could lie around like this with you for the entire day.”
“You remember I want to take you away this weekend.”
“Yes.” I ran my hand over his biceps, my fingers gliding over the hard muscle. “I can’t wait.”
“We’ll leave as soon as you get off work on Friday and fly back just in time for work Monday. You won’t need anything but your passport.”
“And you.” I kissed his shoulder, then spoke in a nervous rush. “I want you and came prepared to have you, but it could be messy. I mean, it’s the tail end, so maybe not, but if period sex isn’t your thing—which I’d totally get, because it has never been my thing—”
“You’re my thing, angel. I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
He flexed, warning me he was going to turn around. I slid to the side, watching his body roll with a fluid rippling of muscle.