Entwined With You

  I stopped worrying. He loved me. Adored me. No man could take the pictures he did of me otherwise, with messy hair and no makeup, doing nothing more interesting than reading something or standing in front of an open refrigerator contemplating what I wanted. Pictures of me sleeping and eating and frowning in concentration … Boring, commonplace things.

  His phone log showed mostly calls placed between him and Angus, Raúl, or Scott. There were voice mails from Corinne I refused to torture myself by listening to, but I could see he hadn’t answered her or called her in a while. There were calls between him and business associates—a couple with Arnoldo, and several with his attorneys.

  And three calls exchanged between him and Deanna Johnson.

  My gaze narrowed. Those ranged from several minutes long to a quarter of an hour.

  I checked his text messages and found the one he’d sent to Angus when we were at the hospital.

  I need her out of here.

  Sinking into the armchair in the corner of the room, I stared at the message. Need, not want. For some reason, the word choice changed my perception of what happened. I still didn’t get it completely, but I didn’t feel quite so … pushed aside.

  There were also texts between him and Ireland, which made me happy. I didn’t read them but could see that the last one had come in on Monday.

  Returning the phone to its former spot, I watched the man I loved sink into the deep sleep of exhaustion. Sprawled as he was, dressed as he was, he looked his age. He carried so much responsibility and he made it look so effortless … so innately artless, that it was easy to forget he was as vulnerable to being overworked and stressed out as anyone.

  It was my job as his wife to help him deal with it. But that was impossible for me to do if he shut me out. In saving me worry, he took more onto himself.

  We’d be talking about that as soon as he caught some sleep.

  I woke with a crick in my neck and the lingering sense that something was wrong. Moving gingerly so as not to pull something, I unfolded from my curled-up position in the armchair and noted that the dawn was well on its way. Pinkish-orange light was visible through the windows, and a quick glance at the bedside clock told me it was creeping into morning.

  Gideon groaned and I stilled, dread sliding through me at the sound. It was a terrible noise, the sound of a creature wounded in both body and soul. A chill swept over me as he moaned again, everything in me reacting violently to his torment.

  Rushing to the bed, I climbed on it, kneeling as I pushed at his shoulder. “Gideon. Wake up.”

  He flinched away from me, curling around my pillow and squeezing it. His body jerked as a sob escaped him.

  I spooned behind him, wrapping one arm around his waist. “Shh, baby,” I whispered. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

  I rocked him as he cried in his sleep, my tears wetting his shirt.

  “WAKE up, angel mine,” Gideon murmured, his lips brushing over my jaw. “I need you.”

  I stretched, feeling lingering aches from the last two nights of hard training and the few hours I’d spent sleeping in the armchair before moving to the bed and joining him.

  My T-shirt was pushed up, exposing my breasts to his avid, hungry mouth. A hand pushed beneath the waistband of my sweats and then my panties, finding my cleft and expertly coaxing me to a swift arousal.

  “Gideon …” I could feel the need in his touch, the desire that was far more than skin deep.

  He took my mouth, hushing me with a kiss. My hips arched as his fingers pushed into me, fucking me gently. Eager to answer his silent demand for more, I pushed at my sweats, kicking restlessly until I got them off.

  I reached for the button fly of his jeans, yanking it open and shoving the denim and cotton boxer briefs out of the way.

  “Put me inside you,” he whispered against my lips.

  I circled his thick erection with my fingers, positioning him and then lifting to take the first inch of him inside me.

  Burying his face in my neck, he thrust, sinking into me, moaning with pleasure as I closed tight around him. “Christ, Eva. I need you so much.”

  My arms and legs caged him, holding him tight.

  Time and everything else in the world ceased to matter. Gideon renewed all the promises he’d made to me on the sands of a Caribbean beach, and I tried to heal him, hoping to give him the strength he needed to face another day.

  I was putting on my makeup when Gideon joined me in the bathroom, setting a steaming mug of creamy sweet coffee on the marble counter next to me. He wore nothing but pajama pants, so I guessed he wasn’t going into the office or at least not right away.

  Eyeing him in the mirror, I searched for signs that he remembered his dreams. I’d never seen him so deeply troubled, as if his heart were breaking.

  “Eva,” he said quietly, “we need to talk.”

  “I’m on board with that.”

  Leaning back against the counter, he held his mug in both hands. He stared down into his coffee for a long minute before asking, “Did you make a sex tape with Brett Kline?”

  “What?” I faced him, my hand tightening on the handle of my makeup brush. “No. Fuck no. Why would you ask me that?”

  He held my gaze. “When I came back from the hospital the other night, Deanna caught up with me in the lobby. After the situation with Corinne, I knew brushing her off was the wrong approach.”

  “I told you that.”

  “I know. You were right. So I took her to the bar up the street, bought her a glass of wine, and apologized.”

  “You took her out for wine,” I repeated.

  “No, I took her out to tell her I’m sorry for how I treated her. I bought her the wine so we had a reason to be sitting in the damn bar,” he said irritably. “I figured you’d prefer a public place over bringing her up to the apartment, which would have been more convenient and private.”

  He was right, and I appreciated his thinking of how I’d react and making accommodations for it. But I was still annoyed that Deanna had snagged a pseudo date with him.

  Gideon must have known what I was feeling because his lips tilted up on one side. “So possessive, angel. You’re lucky I like it so much.”

  “Shut up. What does Deanna have to do with a sex tape? Did she tell you there was one? It’s a lie. She’s lying.”

  “She’s not. My apology smoothed things over enough for her to throw me a bone. She told me about the tape and that an auction for it was imminent.”

  “I’m telling you, she’s full of shit,” I argued.

  “You know a guy named Sam Yimara?”

  Everything stopped. Anxiety pooled in the pit of my stomach. “Yes, he was the band’s wannabe videographer.”

  “Right.” He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes hard as they looked at me over the rim of his mug. “He apparently set up remote cameras at some of the band’s shows to gather backstage material. He claims to have re-created the ‘Golden’ video with actual explicit footage.”

  “Oh my God.” I covered my mouth, feeling sick.

  It was bad enough thinking about strangers watching Brett and me fucking, but it was a million times worse imagining Gideon seeing it. I could still picture the look on his face when he’d watched the music video, and that had been terrible. He and I would never be the same if he viewed the real deal. I knew I’d never be able to scrub images of him and another woman out of my mind. And over time, they’d eat at me like acid.

  “That’s why you went to California,” I whispered, horrified.

  “Deanna gave me what information she had, and I secured a temporary injunction barring Yimara from licensing or selling the video.”

  I couldn’t get a clue about what he was thinking or feeling from his body language. He was closed tight and restrained, rigidly in control. While I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. “You can’t stop it from getting out,” I whispered.

  “We have a temporary seal on the court proceedings.”

  “That vi
deo hits one of those file-sharing sites and it’ll spread like the plague.”

  He shook his head, the ends of his inky hair brushing over his shoulders. “I’ve got an IT team dedicated to nothing but looking twenty-four-seven for that file on the Internet, but Yimara won’t make any money giving the footage away. It’s only worth something as an exclusive. He’s not going to fuck that up before he exhausts all other options—including selling it to me.”

  “Deanna will tell. It’s her job to expose secrets, not keep them.”

  “I offered her a forty-eight-hour exclusive on our wedding photos, if she keeps a lid on this.”

  “And she was okay with that?” I asked skeptically. “That woman’s hot for you. She can’t have been happy about you being off the market. Permanently.”

  “There is a point at which it becomes clear there’s no hope,” he said dryly. “I think I managed to make that point. Trust me, she was happy enough with the money to be made on the wedding exclusive.”

  I moved to the toilet, dropped the lid down, and sat. The reality of what he’d told me sank in. “I’m sick over this, Gideon.”

  He set his coffee down next to mine and came to crouch in front of me. “Look at me.”

  I did as he ordered, but it was hard.

  “I will never let anyone hurt you,” he said. “Do you understand? I will take care of this.”

  “I’m sorry,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this. And with everything else you have going on—”

  Gideon caught my hands. “Someone violated your privacy, Eva. Don’t apologize for that. As for dealing with this … that’s my right. My honor. You’ll always come first.”

  “It didn’t seem like I came first at the hospital,” I argued, needing to get the resentment out before it festered. And needing him to explain why he was always pushing me away when he was trying to protect me. “Everything went to hell and you shoved me at Angus when I wanted to be there for you. You took off to another state and didn’t call … didn’t say anything.”

  His jaw tightened. “And I didn’t sleep. It took every minute I had and too many favors to count to get that injunction done in the time I had to work with. You have to trust me, Eva. Even if you don’t understand what I’m doing, trust that I’m always thinking of you and doing what’s best for you. For us.”

  I looked away, hating that answer. “Corinne’s pregnant.”

  He exhaled harshly. “She was, yes. Four months along.”

  One word chilled me. “Was?”

  “She miscarried as the doctors were treating the overdose. I’m choosing to believe she didn’t know about the baby.”

  I searched his face and tried to hide the pitiful relief on my own. “Four months? The baby was Giroux’s, then.”

  “I would hope so,” he said curtly. “He seems to think it was his, and that I’m responsible for her losing it.”

  “Jesus.”

  Gideon’s head dropped to my lap, his cheek resting on my thigh. “She had to be clueless. She couldn’t risk a baby over something so stupid.”

  “I won’t let you blame yourself for this, Gideon,” I told him sternly.

  He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Christ. Am I cursed?”

  I hated Corinne so much in that moment I felt violent. She’d known Gideon’s father had committed suicide. If she knew Gideon at all, she would know how much her attempt would devastate him.

  “You are not responsible for this.” I ran my fingers through his hair, offering comfort. “Do you hear me? Only Corinne is responsible for what happened. She’ll have to live with what she’s done, not you and me.”

  “Eva.” He hugged me, his breath warm through the silk of my robe.

  A quarter hour after Gideon left me in the bathroom to take a call from Raúl, I was still standing at the vanity, staring into the sink.

  “You’ll be late for work,” he said gently, joining me and hugging me from behind.

  “I’m thinking about just calling in.” I never did that, but I was tired and feeling worn out. I couldn’t imagine pulling it together enough to give my job the focus it deserved.

  “You could, but it won’t look good when you’re photographed at the gala tonight.”

  I looked at him in the mirror. “We’re not going!”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “Gideon, if that footage of me and Brett gets out, you don’t want your name linked to mine.”

  His body went stiff, and then he turned me around to face him. “Say that again.”

  “You heard me. The Cross name has been through enough, don’t you think?”

  “Angel, I’m as close as I’ve ever been to taking you across my knee. Luckily for you, I don’t play rough when I’m mad.”

  His gruff teasing didn’t distract me from the fact that he was determined to protect the girl I’d been, the girl I was ashamed of. He was willing to stand between me and scandal, shielding me as best he could and taking the hit alongside me, if it came to that.

  I didn’t think it was possible to love him more than I did, but he kept proving me wrong.

  He cupped my face in his hands. “Whatever we face, we face together. And you’ll do it with my name.”

  “Gideon—”

  “I can’t tell you how proud I am for you to have it.” He brushed his mouth across my brow. “How much it means to me that you’ve taken it and made it yours.”

  “Oh, Gideon.” I pushed onto my tiptoes and surged into him. “I love you so much.”

  I was a half hour late to work and found a temp at Megumi’s desk. I smiled and said hi, but worry ate at me. I popped my head into Mark’s office and apologized profusely for being late. Then I called Megumi’s cell when I got to my cubicle, but she didn’t answer. I headed over to Will’s.

  “Got a question for you,” I said, when I reached him.

  “Let’s hope I have the answer,” he shot back, swiveling in his chair to look up at me through his stylish glasses.

  “Who does Megumi call to say she’s sick?”

  “She reports to Daphne for everything. Why?”

  “I’m just worried. She hasn’t called me back. I’m wondering if I pissed her off somehow.” I shifted on my feet. “I hate not knowing or being able to help.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, Daphne said she sounds horrible.”

  “That sucks. But thanks.”

  I headed back to my cubicle. Mark gestured me into his office as I walked by.

  “They’re hanging the six-story banner for Tungsten scarves today.”

  “Yeah?”

  He grinned. “Want to go check it out?”

  “Really?” As scattered as I was feeling, getting out in the muggy August heat was preferable to sitting at my cool desk. “That’d be awesome!”

  He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. “Let’s go.”

  WHEN I got home shortly after five o’clock, I found my living room taken over by a team of white-coated beauty technicians. Cary and Trey were kicked back on the couch with green goop on their faces and towels under their heads to protect the white upholstery. My mother was chatting away while her hair was styled in a sexy cap of waves and curls.

  I took a quick shower, then joined them. In an hour, they managed to take me from bedraggled to glamorous, affording me the time to think about everything I’d ruthlessly suppressed all day—the video, Corinne, Giroux, Deanna, and Brett.

  Someone was going to have to tell Brett. That someone was me.

  When the beautician came toward me with a lip brush, I held up my hand. “Red, please.”

  She paused a minute, her head canting as she examined me. “Yes, you’re right.”

  I was holding my breath through a finishing blast of hair spray when my smartphone vibrated in the pocket of my robe. Seeing Gideon’s name on the screen, I answered. “Hi, ace.”

  “What color are you wearing?” he asked, without a hello.

  “Silver.”

  “Real
ly?” His voice took on a warm purr that made my toes flex. “I can’t wait to see you in it. And out of it.”

  “You won’t be waiting,” I admonished. “You’d better have your fine ass over here in about ten minutes.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Hurry up or we won’t have any limo time.”

  “Umm … I’ll be there in five.”

  He hung up and I held my phone for a minute, smiling.

  “Who was that?” my mom asked, coming up beside me.

  “Gideon.”

  Her eyes lit up. “He’s escorting you tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, Eva.” She hugged me. “I’m so glad.”

  With my arms around her, I figured it was as good a time as any to start spreading the engagement news. I knew Gideon wasn’t going to wait long before insisting on sharing our marriage with the world.

  I said quietly, “He asked Dad for permission to marry me.”

  “Did he?” When she pulled back, she was smiling. “He talked to Richard, too, which I think is such a nice touch, don’t you? I’ve already started planning. I was thinking June, at the Pierre, of course. We’ll—”

  “I suggest December, at the latest.”

  My mother gasped, her eyes widening. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no way to pull off a wedding in that amount of time. It’s impossible.”

  I shrugged. “Tell Gideon you’re thinking of June next year. See what he says.”

  “Well, I have to wait until he actually proposes first!”

  “Right.” I kissed her cheek. “I’m going to get dressed.”

  23

  I WAS IN my room, sliding the strapless gown up over my matching bustier, when Gideon came in. I literally stopped breathing, my gaze drinking in his reflection in my cheval mirror. Standing behind me in a tuxedo tailored just for him, with a lovely gray tie that matched my dress so well, he was dazzling. I’d never seen him look so gorgeous.

  “Wow,” I breathed, entranced. “You are so getting laid tonight.”