“It’ll be perfect no matter what might go wrong.” I rubbed the back of my ring with my thumb, taking comfort from its presence on my hand. “It’s Gideon’s birthday.”
“Whew. Okay, then. We’ll make it happen.”
My mouth curved. “Thank you. Talk to you soon.”
I hung up and looked at the building across the street. Next door was a small café. I’d walk over and get a latte after I contacted the designer.
I sent Gideon a text. Who should I talk to about flying the wedding planner down to the Outer Banks house tomorrow AM?
It felt a little weird to ask the question. Who would’ve thought I’d ever have private jets at my disposal? I wasn’t sure I’d ever be blasé about using them.
I waited a minute for a reply. When it didn’t come, I called Blaire Ash.
“Hi, Blaire,” I said, when he answered. “It’s Eva Tramell, Gideon Cross’s fiancée.”
“Eva. Of course I know who you are.” His voice was warm and friendly. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“I’d like to go over some of the design details with you. Cary said you can meet tomorrow?”
“Sure. What time works for you?”
Thinking of the trip to the Outer Banks with Kristin, I answered, “Would evening work? Say six-ish?”
Gideon would be with Dr. Petersen until at least seven o’clock. Then he’d have to commute home. That gave me enough time to switch some things up with our design plans.
“That works for me,” Blair agreed. “I’ll meet you at the penthouse?”
“Yes, I’ll see you there. Thanks. Bye.”
The second I ended the call, my phone buzzed. Looking at the screen, I saw Gideon’s reply: Scott’s making the arrangements.
I chewed my lower lip, feeling bad for not going through Scott first. I’ll ask him next time. Thank you! ☺
I took a deep breath, feeling like I should reach out to Gideon’s mother, Elizabeth.
In the front seat, Angus’s phone pinged. He lifted it, then looked back at me. “She’s on her way down in the elevator.”
“Oh!” Surprise turned to bafflement. How did he know that? I glanced at the building again. Did Gideon own that one, too? Like he owned the building her husband worked in?
“Here, lass.” Angus reached into the backseat and offered a small black disk the size of a quarter and three times as thick. “It’s sticky on one side. Tuck that into the strap of your dress.”
I shoved my phone in my purse and took the disk, staring at it. “What is this? A microphone?”
“It’s either that or I come with you.” He gave me an apologetic smile. “It’s not you that’s the worry, it’s her.”
Since I had nothing to hide, I stuck the mic inside my bra and hopped out of the back when Angus opened the door. He grabbed my arm securely, then hurried me across the street.
He winked at me before retreating to the café.
I was suddenly standing alone on the sidewalk, struck by a wicked case of nerves. They were gone a second later when Anne pushed out of the lobby. Dressed in a leopard-print wrap dress and black Louboutins, she looked fierce and vibrant with her spiky red hair.
Tucking my clutch under my arm, I started walking toward her.
“What are the chances?” I asked, as I got close to her.
She glanced at me, her hand raised to hail a cab. For a moment, there was blankness on her foxlike face, and then recognition hit her. Her shock was worth the price of admission. Her arm fell to her side.
I gave her a once-over. “You should ditch the wig you’ve been wearing around Cary. The short hair suits you better.”
Anne recovered quickly. “Eva. Don’t you look pretty? Gideon is polishing you up nicely.”
“Yeah, he polishes me a lot. Every chance he gets.” That got her attention. “Can’t get enough, actually. He’s got nothing left for you, so I suggest you find someone else to be crazy over.”
Her face hardened. I realized I’d never seen true hatred before. Even in the heat of the New York summer, I felt a chill.
“You’re so clueless”—she stepped closer—“when he’s probably fucking someone else at this very moment. That’s who he is and what he does.”
“You have no idea who he is.” I hated having to tilt my head back to look up at her. “I don’t have any worries about him. You, however, should be worried about me. Because if you come near him or Cary again, you’ll be dealing with me. It won’t be pleasant.”
I turned away from her. I’d done what I came to do.
“He’s a monster,” she called out. “Did he tell you he’s been in therapy since he was a child?”
That stopped me. I rounded on her.
She grinned. “He’s been broken from birth. He’s sick and twisted in ways he hasn’t shown you yet. He’s thinking he can hide it from you, his pretty little girl who creates just the right fairy tale. Beauty and the beast for the masses. A clever cover-up, but it won’t hold. He can’t suppress his true nature for long.”
My God … Did she know about Hugh?
How could she know that Gideon was a victim of her brother’s perversions and have sex with him anyway? It made me so sick to think of it, bile rose in my throat.
Her laugh slid over me like shards of glass. “Gideon is vicious and cruel at his core. He’ll break you before he’s done with you. If he doesn’t kill you first.”
My back straightened, my hands fisting at my sides. I was so angry I was shaking with it, fighting the urge to punch her in her smug, nasty face.
“Who do you think monsters marry, you stupid bitch?” I walked back to her. “Pretty little breakable girls? Or other monsters?”
I pushed up into her face. “You got the fairy tale right. But Gideon’s the beauty. I’m the beast.”
6
“You think Gideon’s scary? Wait ’til you get a load of me.”
I sat still as stone for a long minute, Eva’s voice echoing in my ears as the recording ended. My gaze lifted from my desk to Angus’s face. “Jesus.”
We had looked for any case files Hugh might’ve kept about me. None were found and we assumed he hadn’t kept records. It made sense. Why document your crimes?
“I’ll look again,” Angus said quietly. “Her homes and office. Her husband’s office. Everywhere. I’ll find them.”
I nodded, pushing back from my desk. I sucked in a deep breath and fought off a wave of nausea. There was nothing I could do but wait.
I walked to the nearest window and looked at the building that housed LanCorp’s offices.
“Eva handled her well,” he said behind me. “She put the fear of God in Anne. I saw it on her face.”
I had eschewed viewing the available security video footage in favor of listening to the audio of their meeting, but it was enough. I knew my wife, her voice and inflections. Knew her temper. And I knew that nothing roused it as swiftly or ferociously as when she was leaping to my defense.
Over the short time we’d been together, Eva had managed direct confrontations with Corinne at her home, my mother on multiple occasions, Terrence Lucas at his office, and now his wife at hers. I knew my wife felt she had to, which was why I’d forced myself to step back and let her do it.
I didn’t need defending. Could take care of myself just fine on my own, as I always had. But it felt good to know I wasn’t on my own any longer. Better still to know she could look crazy in the face and frighten it.
“She’s a tigress.” I faced him. “I’ve got a few badges of honor from her scratches myself.”
The hard, tense line of Angus’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “She’ll stand by you.”
“If my past goes public? Yes, she will.”
As I said the words, I realized how true they were. There had been times in our relationship when I hadn’t been certain I could hold on to Eva. I loved my wife and had no doubts she loved me as deeply, but as perfect as she was for me, she had her flaws. She doubted herself too often. She bel
ieved, at times, that she wasn’t strong enough to face certain situations. And when she felt her independence and equanimity threatened, she ran away to protect herself.
My gaze went to the picture of her on my desk. Things had changed and only recently. She’d pushed me to the edge, cutting me off from the one thing I could not live without—her. I’d tumbled off that edge reluctantly, forced to do so to get her back. The result: She no longer looked at our marriage as her and me but us. My initial resentment was gone. No matter what, I would do it again to keep her, but now, I would do it without the push.
“She loves that I can take care of her, keep her safe,” I said, mostly to myself. “But if I lost everything, she’d still be here. It’s me she wants, as fucked up as I am.”
The money … the public image … They weren’t important to her.
“You’re not fucked up, lad. Too pretty for your own good, to be certain.” Angus’s mouth twisted wryly. “And ye’ve made some dubious choices when it comes to the lasses, but who hasn’t? Hard to say nay when you’re randy and they’re lifting their skirts.”
Amused by his blunt comments, I pushed thoughts of Anne Lucas aside. Worrying would get me nowhere. Angus would do what he was so very good at. I would focus on my wife and our life as it now was.
“Where is Eva now?” I asked him.
“Raúl is driving her to Parker Smith’s studio in Brooklyn.”
I nodded, understanding that Eva needed to work off some steam. “Thank you, Angus.”
He left and I returned to my desk to get my day back on track. I’d shuffled a dozen things to fit in the Crossroads lunch with Eva and now I had to catch up.
My smartphone buzzed, rattling atop the smoked glass of my desktop. I glanced at it, hoping to see Eva’s face on the screen and seeing my sister, Ireland’s, instead. I felt a familiar momentary twinge of discomfort, something mildly akin to panic, just before I answered the call.
I couldn’t see how being in my teenage sister’s life benefited her at all, but Eva felt it was important for some reason and so I made the effort for her.
“Ireland. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Gideon.” She hiccupped violently, her voice clogged with tears.
I immediately tensed, the first surge of fury bristling along my spine. “What’s wrong?”
“I c-came home from school and Dad was waiting for me. They’re getting a divorce.”
I circled my desk and sank into my chair. The anger drained away.
Before I could say anything, she rushed on.
“I don’t understand!” She wept. “A couple weeks ago everything was fine. Then they started arguing all the time and Dad moved into a hotel. Something happened but neither of them will tell me what it is! Mom won’t stop crying. Dad doesn’t, but his eyes are always red when I see him.”
My stomach knotted up all over again. My breath came fast and quick.
Chris knew. About Hugh and me. About Terrence Lucas’s lies, covering up his brother-in-law’s crime. About my mother’s refusal to believe me, to fight for me, to save me.
“Ireland …”
“Do you think he’s having an affair? He’s the one instigating all of this. Mom says he’s confused. She says he’ll come around, but I don’t think so. He acts like his mind is totally made up. Can you talk to him?”
I gripped the phone too tightly. “And say what?”
Hello, Chris. Sorry I was raped and your wife can’t handle it. Bummer about the divorce. No chance you could forgive her and live happily ever after?
Just thinking about Chris going on with his life, with his wife, as if nothing had happened filled me with rage. Someone knew. Someone cared. Someone couldn’t live with it any more than I. I wouldn’t change that even if I could.
Something small and cold inside me enjoyed the reckoning. Finally.
“There has to be something, Gideon! People don’t go from being madly in love to filing for divorce in less than a month!”
God. I rubbed at the back of my neck, where a vicious headache clawed at me. “Maybe counseling.”
A harsh, humorless laugh burned in my throat, silenced. A therapist had started all of this. How fucking ironic for me to suggest seeing another one to figure it out.
Ireland sniffled. “Mom said Dad suggested it, but she won’t go.”
The mirthless snicker escaped me then. What would Dr. Petersen say if he could see into that mind of hers? Would he pity her? Feel disgust? Anger? Maybe he wouldn’t feel anything at all. I was no different from any other molested child and she was no different from any other weak, self-absorbed woman.
“I’m sorry, Ireland.” Sorrier than I could ever tell her. How would she feel about me if she knew this was all my fault? Maybe she would hate me, too, like our brother Christopher.
The thought tightened my chest like a vise.
Christopher couldn’t stand me, but he loved Ireland and was invested in the relationship between their parents. I was the outsider. Always had been. “Have you talked to Christopher?”
“He’s as torn up as Mom is. I mean, I’m a mess, but the two of them … I’ve never seen them so upset.”
I pushed to my feet again, too restless to sit. What should I do, Eva? What could I say? Why aren’t you here when I need you?
“Your father isn’t having an affair,” I said, offering her what comfort I could. “He’s not the type.”
“Then why did he file for divorce?”
I exhaled roughly. “Why does anyone quit a marriage? It’s not working.”
“After all these years, he decides he’s not happy and that’s it? He quits?”
“He suggested therapy and she said no.”
“So it’s her fault he’s suddenly got a problem with her?”
The voice was Ireland’s, but the words were my mother’s. “If you’re trying to find someone to blame, I won’t help with that.”
“You don’t care if they stay together. You probably think it’s stupid I’m so upset at my age.”
“That’s not true. You have every right to be upset.”
I glanced at the door to my office when Scott appeared on the other side of it, nodding to acknowledge him when he tapped the face of his watch. He went back to his desk.
“Then help them fix it, Gideon!”
“Jesus. I don’t know why you think I can do anything.”
She started crying again.
I cursed silently, hating to hear her in so much pain, knowing I’d caused some of it. “Sweetheart …”
“Can you at least try to talk some sense into them?”
My eyes closed. I was the goddamned problem, which made it impossible for me to be part of the solution. But I couldn’t say that. “I’ll call them.”
“Thank you.” She sniffled again. “I love you.”
A small sound escaped me, the blow of her words sending me reeling. She hung up before I could find my voice, leaving me with the sense of an opportunity lost.
I set my phone back down on my desk and fought the urge to throw it across the room.
Scott opened the door and poked his head in. “Everyone’s ready for you in the conference room.”
“I’m coming.”
“Also, Mr. Vidal would like you to call him when you can.”
I gave a curt nod but growled inwardly at the sound of my stepfather’s name. “I’ll get back to him.”
It was nearing nine in the evening when Raúl texted me to let me know Eva was on her way up to the penthouse. I left my home office and went to meet her in the foyer, my brows arching in surprise when she stepped out holding a big box in both hands. Raúl stood behind her carrying a duffel bag.
She grinned at me as I took the box from her. “Brought some stuff to invade your space.”
“Invade away,” I told her, captivated by the bright, mischievous light in her gray eyes.
Raúl deposited the duffel on the living room floor, then slipped away quietly, leaving us alone. I follo
wed Eva with my gaze, taking in the dark jeans that hugged every curve and the loose silk blouse she’d tucked into them. She was wearing flats, which left her nearly a foot shorter than I was in my bare feet. Her hair fell around her shoulders, framing her face, which was scrubbed free of makeup.
She tossed her purse onto the wingback chair nearest the front door. As she kicked off her shoes by the coffee table, she looked at me, her gaze sliding over my bare chest and black silk pajama bottoms. “You said you were going to behave, ace.”
“Well, considering I haven’t even kissed you yet, I think I’m being very well behaved.” I walked to the dining room table and set the box down, looking inside it to see a collection of framed photos swathed in bubble wrap. “How was dinner?”
“Tasty. I wish Tatiana weren’t pregnant, but I think it’s making Cary reevaluate and grow up a little bit. That’s a good thing.”
I knew better than to offer my opinion on that, so I just gave a nod. “Should I open a bottle of wine?”
Her smile lit up the room. “That would be great.”
When I returned to the living room a few moments later, I found the fireplace mantel decorated with a collection of photographs. The montage I’d given her to keep at work was there, showcasing images of us together. There were also pictures of Cary, Monica, Stanton, Victor, and Ireland.
And a framed image of my father and me on the shore long ago, one that I’d shared with her when we signed the purchase contract on the beach house in the Outer Banks.
I sipped from my glass, taking in the change. There were no other personal items in the main living space, so the alteration was … profound. She’d also chosen brilliantly colored mosaic glass frames, which sparkled and drew the eye.
“Are your bachelor self-preservation warnings going off yet?” Eva teased, taking the glass I held out to her.
Amused, I glanced at her. “It’s too late to scare me off.”
“You sure about that? I’m just getting started.”