The next morning dawned with an odd surreality. I
made it to work, and then through most of my
prelunch day in a kind of chilly fog. I couldn’t get
warm enough, despite wearing a cardigan over
my blouse and a scarf that didn’t match either
one. It took me a few minutes longer to process
requests than it should have, and I couldn’t shake
a feeling of dread.
Gideon made no contact with me whatsoever.
Nothing on my smartphone or e-mail after my
text last night. Nothing in my e-mail inbox. No
interoffice note.
The silence was excruciating. Especially when
the day’s Google alert hit my inbox and I saw the
photos and phone videos of me and Gideon in
Bryant Park. Seeing how we looked together—the
passion and need, the painful longing on our
faces, and the gratefulness of reconciliation—was
bittersweet.
Pain twisted in my chest. Gideon.
If we couldn’t work this out, would I ever stop
thinking about him and wishing we had?
I struggled to pull myself together. Mark was
meeting with Gideon today. Maybe that’s why
Gideon hadn’t felt pressed to contact me. Or
maybe he was just really busy. I knew he had to
be, considering his business calendar. And as far
as I knew, we still had plans to go to the gym after
work. I exhaled in a rush and told myself that
things would straighten out somehow. They just
had to.
It was quarter to noon when my desk phone
rang. Seeing from the readout that the call was
coming from reception, I sighed with
disappointment and answered.
“Hey, Eva,” Megumi said cheerily. “You have a
Magdalene Perez here to see you.”
“Do I?” I stared at my monitor, confused and
irritated. Had the Bryant Park photos lured
Magdalene out from under whatever troll bridge
she called home?
Regardless of the reason, I had no interest in
talking to her. “Keep her up there for me, will you?
I have to take care of something first.”
“Sure. I’ll tell her to have a seat.”
I hung up, then pulled out my smartphone and
scrolled through the contact list until I found the
number to Gideon’s office. I dialed and was
relieved when Scott answered.
“Hey, Scott. It’s Eva Tramell.”
“Hi, Eva. Would you like to speak to Mr. Cross?
He’s in a meeting at the moment, but I can buzz
him.”
“No. No, don’t bother him.”
“It’s a standing order. He won’t mind.”
It soothed me immensely to hear that. “I hate to
throw this in your lap, but I have a request for you.”
“Anything you need. That’s also a standing
order.” The amusement in his voice relaxed me
further.
“Magdalene Perez is down here on the
twentieth floor. Frankly, the only thing she and I
have in common is Gideon, and that’s not a good
thing. If she has something to say, it’s your boss
she should be talking to. Could you please have
someone escort her up?”
“Absolutely. I’ll take care of it now.”
“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate you.”
“It’s my pleasure, Eva.”
I hung up the phone and sagged back in my
seat, feeling better already and proud of myself for
not letting jealousy get the better of me. While I still
really hated the idea of her having any of Gideon’s
time, I hadn’t lied when I’d said I trusted him. I
believed he had strong, deep feelings for me. I
just didn’t know if they were enough to override his
survival instinct.
Megumi called me again.
“Oh my God,” she said, laughing. “You
should’ve seen her face when whoever that was
came to get her.”
“Good.” I grinned. “I figured she was up to no
good. Is she gone, then?”
“Yep.”
“Thanks.” I crossed the narrow strip of hallway
to Mark’s door and poked my head in to see if he
wanted me to pick him up some lunch.
He frowned, thinking about it. “No, thanks. I’ll be
too nervous to eat until after the presentation with
Cross. By then whatever you pick up will be hours
old.”
“How about a protein smoothie, then? It’ll give
you some easy fuel until you can eat.”
“That’d be great.” His smile lit up his dark eyes.
“Something that goes good with vodka, just to get
me in the mood.”
“Anything you don’t like? Any allergies?”
“Nada.”
“Okay. See you in an hour.” I knew just the place
to go. The deli I had in mind was a couple blocks
up and offered smoothies, salads, and a variety of
made-to-order paninis with quick service.
I headed downstairs and tried not to think about
Gideon’s radio silence. I’d kind of expected to
he a r something after the Magdalene incident.
Getting no reaction had me worrying all over
again. I pushed out to the street through the
revolving door and scarcely paid any attention to
the man who climbed out of the back of a town car
at the curb until he called my name.
Turning, I found myself facing Christopher Vidal.
“Oh…Hi,” I greeted him. “How are you?”
“Better, now that I’ve seen you. You look
fantastic.”
“Thanks. I can say the same to you.”
As different as he was from Gideon, he was
gorgeous in his own way with his mahogany
waves, grayish-green eyes, and charming smile.
He was dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a
cream V-neck sweater, a very sexy look for him.
“Are you here to see your brother?” I asked.
“Yes, and you.”
“Me?”
“Heading to lunch? I’ll join you and explain.”
I was briefly reminded of Gideon’s warning to
stay away from Christopher, but by now I figured
he trusted me. Especially with his brother.
“I’m going to a deli up the street,” I said. “If
you’re game.”
“Absolutely.”
We started walking.
“What did you want to see me about?” I asked,
too curious to wait.
He reached into one of two large cargo pockets
of his jeans and pulled out a formal invitation in a
vellum envelope. “I came to invite you to a garden
party we’re having at my parents’ estate on
Sunday. A mix of business and pleasure. Many of
the artists signed to Vidal Records will be there. I
was thinking it’d be great networking for your
roommate—he’s got the right look for music
video.”
I brightened. “That would be wonderful!”
Christopher grinned and passed the invite over.
“And you’ll both have fun. No one throws a party
like my mother.”
I glanced briefly at the envelope in my hand.
Why hadn’t Gideon said anything about the event?
“If you’re wondering why Gideon didn’t tell you
about it,” he said, seemingly reading my mind,
“it’s because he won’t come. He never does.
Even though he’s the majority shareholder in the
company, I think he finds the music industry and
musicians too unpredictable for his tastes. By
now, you know how he is.”
Dark and intense. Powerfully magnetic and
hotly sexual. Yes, I knew how he was. And he
preferred to know what he was getting into at all
costs.
I gestured at the deli when we reached it, and
we stepped inside and got in line.
“This place smells awesome,” Christopher said,
his gaze on his phone as he typed out a quick
text.
“The aroma delivers on its promise, trust me.”
He smiled a delightful boyish smile that I was
sure knocked most women on their asses. “My
parents are really looking forward to meeting you,
Eva.”
“Oh?”
“Seeing the photos of you and Gideon over the
last week has been a real surprise. A good
surprise,” he qualified quickly when I winced. “It’s
the first time we’ve seen him really into someone
he’s dating.”
I sighed, thinking he wasn’t so into me right
now. Had I made a terrible mistake by leaving him
alone last night?
When we reached the counter, I ordered a
grilled vegetable and cheese panini with two
pomegranate smoothies, asking them to hold the
one with a protein shot for thirty minutes so I could
eat in. Christopher ordered the same, and we
managed to find a table in the crowded deli.
We talked about work, laughing over both a
recent baby food commercial faux-blooper that
had gone viral and some backstage anecdotes
about acts Christopher had worked with. The time
passed swiftly, and when we parted ways at the
entrance of the Crossfire, I said good-bye with
genuine affection.
I headed up to the twentieth floor, and found
Mark still at his desk. He offered me a quick smile
despite his air of concentration.
“If you don’t really need me,” I said, “I think it’d
be good for me to sit this presentation out.”
Although he tried to hide it, I saw the lightning
quick flash of relief. It didn’t offend me. Stress was
stress, and my volatile relationship with Gideon
was something Mark didn’t need to think about
while he was working on an important account.
“You’re golden, Eva. You know that?”
I smiled and set the drink carrier down in front of
him. “Drink your smoothie. It’s really good, and the
protein will keep you from feeling too hungry for a
little bit longer. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”
Before I put my purse in the drawer, I texted
Cary to ask if he had plans on Sunday or if he’d
like to go to a Vidal Records party. Then I got
back to work. I’d started organizing Mark’s files on
the server, tagging them and placing them in
directories to make it easier for us to assemble
portfolios on the fly.
When Mark left for the meeting with Gideon, my
heartbeat quickened and a clutch of anticipation
tightened my stomach. I couldn’t believe my
excitement just from knowing what Gideon was
doing at that particular moment, and that he’d
have to think of me when he saw Mark. I hoped I’d
hear from him after that. My mood picked up at
the thought.
For the next hour, I was restless waiting to hear
how things had gone. When Mark reappeared
with a big grin and a spring in his step, I stood up
in my cubicle and applauded him.
He took a gallant, exaggerated bow. “Thank
you, Miss Tramell.”
“I’m so stoked for you!”
“Cross asked me to give you this.” He handed
me a sealed manila envelope. “Come to my office
and I’ll give you all the deets.”
The envelope had weight and rattled. I knew
from touch what I’d find inside before I opened it,
but still the sight of my keys sliding out and into my
palm hit me hard. Gasping with a pain more
intense than any I could remember, I read the
accompanying note card.
Thank you, Eva. For everything.
Yours, G
A Dear Jane brush-off. It had to be. Otherwise,
he would’ve given me the keys after work on the
way to the gym.
There was a dull roaring in my ears. I felt dizzy.
Disoriented. I was frightened and agonized.
Furious.
I was also at work.
Closing my eyes and clenching my fists, I pulled
myself together and fought off the driving urge to
go upstairs and call Gideon a coward. He
probably saw me as a threat, someone who’d
come in, unwanted and uninvited, and shook up
his orderly world. Someone who’d demanded
more from him than just his hot body and hefty
bank account.
I shut my emotions behind a glass wall where I
was aware of them waiting in the background, but
I was able to get through the rest of my workday.
By the time I clocked out and headed downstairs, I
still hadn’t heard from Gideon. I was such an
emotional disaster at that point I felt only a single,
sharp twinge of despair as I exited the Crossfire.
I made it to the gym. I shut my brain off and ran
full-bore on the treadmill, fleeing the anguish that
would hit me soon enough. I ran until sweat
coursed in rivulets down my face and body, and
rubber legs forced me to stop.
Feeling battered and exhausted, I hit the
showers. Then I called my mother and asked her
to send Clancy to the gym to pick me up for our
appointment with Dr. Petersen. As I put my work
clothes back on, I mustered the energy to get
through that last task before I could go home and
collapse on my bed.
I waited for the town car at the curb, feeling
separate and apart from the city teeming around
me. When Clancy pulled up and hopped out to
open the back door for me, I was startled to see
my mom already inside. It was early yet. I’d
expected to be driven solo to the apartment she
shared with Stanton and wait on her twenty
minutes or so. That was our usual routine.
“Hey, Mom,” I said wearily, settling on the seat
beside her.
“How could you, Eva?” She was crying into a
monogrammed handkerchief, her face beautiful
even while reddened and wet with tears. “Why?”
Jolted out of my torment by her misery, I
frowned and asked, “What did I do now?”
The new cell phone, if she’d somehow found
about it, wouldn’t trigger this much drama. And it
was too soon after the fact for her to know about
my breakup with Gideon.
“You told Gideon Cross about…what happened
to you.” Her lower lip trembled with distress.
My head jerked back in shock. How could she
know that? My God…Had she bugged my new
place? My purse…? “What?”
“Don’t act clueless!”
“How do you know I told him?” My voice was a
pained whisper. “We just talked last night.”
“He went to see Richard about it today.”
I tried to picture Stanton’s face during that
conversation. I couldn’t imagine my stepfather
taking it well. “Why would he do that?”
“He wanted to know what’s been done to
prevent information leaks. And he wanted to know
where Nathan is—” She sobbed. “He wanted to
know everything.”
My breath hissed out between my teeth. I wasn’t
sure what Gideon’s motivation was, but the
possibility that he’d dumped me over Nathan and
was now making sure that he was safe from
scandal hurt worse than anything. I twisted in pain,
my spine arching away from the seatback. I’d
thought it was his past that drove a wedge
between us, but it made more sense that it was
mine.
For once I was grateful for my mother’s selfabsorption,
which kept her from seeing how
devastated I was.
“He had a right to know,” I managed in a voice
so raw it sounded nothing like my own. “And he
has a right to try and protect himself from any
blowback.”
“You’ve never told any of your other boyfriends.”
“I’ve never dated anyone who makes national
headlines by sneezing, either.” I stared out the car
window at the traffic that boxed us in. “Gideon
Cross and Cross Industries are global news,
Mother. He’s light-years away from the guys I
dated in college.”
She spoke more, but I didn’t hear her. I shut
down for self-protection, cutting off the reality that
was suddenly too painful to be endured.
Dr. Petersen’s office was exactly as I
remembered. Decorated in soothing neutrals, it
was both professional and comfortable. Dr.
Petersen was the same—a handsome man with
gray hair and gentle, intelligent blue eyes.
He welcomed us into his office with a wide
smile, commenting on how lovely my mother
looked and how like her I was. He said he was
happy to see me again and that I looked well, but I
could tell he spoke for my mother’s benefit. He
was too trained an observer to miss the raging
emotions I suppressed.
“So,” he began, settling into his chair across
from the sofa my mother and I sat on. “What
brings you both in today?”
I told him about the way my mom had been
tracking my movements via my cell phone signal
and how violated I felt. Mom told him about my
interest in Krav Maga and how she took it as a
sign that I wasn’t feeling safe. I told him about how
they’d pretty much taken over Parker’s studio,
which made me feel suffocated and
claustrophobic. She told him I’d betrayed her trust
by divulging deeply personal matters to strangers,
which made her feel naked and painfully exposed.
Through it all, Dr. Petersen listened attentively,
took notes and spoke rarely, until we’d purged
everything.
Once we’d quieted, he asked, “Monica, why
didn’t you tell me about tracking Eva’s cell
phone?”
The angle of her chin altered, a familiar
defensive posture. “I didn’t see anything wrong
with it. Many parents track their children through
their cell phones.”
“Underage children,” I shot back. “I’m an adult.
My personal time is exactly that.”
“If you were to envision yourself in her place,
Monica,” Dr. Petersen interjected, “would it be
possible that you might feel as she does? What if
you discovered someone was monitoring your
movements without your knowledge or
permission?”
“Not if the someone was my mother and I knew
it gave her peace of mind,” she argued.
“And have you considered how your actions
affect Eva’s peace of mind?” he queried gently.
“Your need to protect her is understandable, but
you should discuss the steps you wish to take
openly with her. It’s important to gain her input—
and expect cooperation only when she chooses to
give it. You have to honor her prerogative to set
limits that may not be as broad as you’d like them
to be.”
My mother sputtered indignantly.
“Eva needs her boundaries, Monica,” he
continued, “and a sense of control over her own
life. Those things were taken from her for a long
time and we have to respect her right to establish
them now in the manner that best suits her.”
“Oh.” My mother twisted her handkerchief
around her fingers. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
I reached out for my mother’s hand when her
lower lip trembled violently. “Nothing could’ve
stopped me from talking to Gideon about my past.
But I could have forewarned you. I’m sorry I didn’t
think of it.”
“You’re much stronger than I ever was,” my
mother said, “but I can’t help worrying.”
“My suggestion,” Dr. Petersen said, “would be
for you to take some time, Monica, and really think
about what sorts of events and situations cause
you anxiety. Then write them down.”
My mother nodded.
“When you have what will surely not be an
exhaustive list but a strong start,” he went on, “you
can sit down with Eva and discuss strategies for
addressing those concerns—strategies you can
both live with comfortably. For example, if not
hearing from Eva for a few days troubles you,
perhaps a text message or an e-mail will alleviate
that.”
“Okay.”
“If you like, we can go over the list together.”
The back-and-forth between the two made me
want to scream. It was insult to injury. I hadn’t
expected Dr. Petersen to smack some sense into
my mom, but I’d hoped he would at least take a
harder line—God knew someone needed to,
someone whose authority she respected.
When the hour ended and we were on our way
out, I asked my mom to wait a moment so I could
ask Dr. Petersen one last personal and private
question.
“Yes, Eva?” He stood in front of me, looking
infinitely patient and wise.
“I just wondered…” I paused, needing to
swallow past a lump in my throat. “Is it possible for
two abuse survivors to have a functional romantic
relationship?”
“Absolutely.” His immediate, unequivocal
answer forced the trapped air from my lungs.
I shook his hand. “Thank you.”
When I got home, I unlocked my door with the
keys Gideon had returned to me and I went
straight to my room, offering a lame wave to Cary,
who was practicing yoga in the living room to a
DVD.
I stripped off my clothes as I crossed the
distance from my closed bedroom door to the
bed, finally crawling between the cool sheets in
just my underwear. I hugged a pillow and closed
my eyes, so tired and drained I had nothing left.
The door opened at my back and a moment
later Cary sat beside me.
He brushed my hair back from my tear-streaked
face. “What’s the matter, baby girl?”
“I got kicked to the curb today. Courtesy of a
fucking note card.”
He sighed. “You know the drill, Eva. He’s going
to keep pushing you away, because he’s
expecting you to fail him like everyone else has.”
“And I keep proving him right.” I recognized
myself in the description Cary had just given. I ran
when the going got tough, because I was so sure
it was all going to end badly. The only control I had
was to be the one who left, instead of the one who
was left behind.
“Because you’re fighting to protect your own
recovery.” He lay down and spooned against my
back, wrapping one leanly muscular arm around
me and tucking me tight against him.
I snuggled into the physical affection I hadn’t
realized I needed. “He might’ve dumped me
because of my past, not his.”
“If that’s true, it’s good it’s over. But I think you
two will find each other eventually. At least I’m
hoping you will.” His sigh was soft on my neck. “I
want there to be happily-ever-afters for the fuckedup
crowd. Show me the way, Eva honey. Make
me believe.”
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