Entwined with You(115)

“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.