One with You (Crossfire #5)(43)

“Of course.” He departed, too, leaving me alone to finish up the workweek.

I noted the time on my phone before I speed-dialed my wife.

“Hi, ace,” she answered, her voice light and bright. “Can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”

“Tell me you were thinking about me.”

“Always.”

I remembered her as she’d been last night, lying prone on the bed with her heels kicked up behind her. She had watched me pack with her chin propped on her hands, commenting occasionally on my choices. She’d noted that I didn’t pack either the graphite gray slacks she fantasized about or a black V-neck T-shirt. The deliberate omission was the one thing that made her smile. Otherwise, she had been mostly quiet and moody.

“You and I are going to ride to the airport together,” I told her. “Alone.”

“Oh.” She let that sink in. “That’ll be nice.”

“I’m shooting for more than nice.”

“Ohhh … ” Her voice lowered, took on the soft huskiness that told me her thoughts had turned to sex. “Got a little transportation fetish yourself ?”

Warm amusement slid through me, helping to ease the stress brought on by thinking of the days ahead. Eva would let me have her anywhere, but she frequently seduced me while we were en route to somewhere. Having previously been restricted to having sex only in the hotel, she’d rocked my world by inciting me to make love to her in cars and planes, as well as my home and various places of business.

I would never say no to her. I wasn’t capable of it. When she wanted me, I was ready and more than willing.

“I have an Eva fetish,” I murmured, turning around something she’d once said to me.

“Good.” She took a breath. “Is the weekend over yet?”

I heard Cary say something I couldn’t quite make out. “Soon, angel. I’ll let you go.”

“Don’t ever let me go, Gideon.” There was a fervency to her words that moved me, betraying how unsettled she was by the weekend ahead. After the separation she’d enforced, it was good to know she wasn’t looking forward to another, even under much happier circumstances.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” I corrected. “So you can be ready when Raúl comes for you.”

“Never mind him. I’ll be ready to come for you,” she purred back, leaving me hard and aching as I ended the call.

Arash entered my office shortly after four, sauntering in with his hands in his pockets and humming a tune. He grinned as he sank into one of the chairs in front of my desk. “You ready for the weekend?”

“As ready as I’m going to be.” I sat back and drummed my fingers on the armrests of my chair.

“You’ll be happy to hear that Anne Lucas’s assault complaint is going away.”

I’d expected as much, but it was still good to have confirmation. “As it should.”

“I haven’t heard if she’ll be charged with falsely reporting an incident. In the meantime, if she attempts contact with you, Eva, or Cary in any way, I need to know immediately.”

I nodded absently. “Of course.”

He studied me. “Where’s your head at right now?”

My mouth twisted wryly. “I just got off the phone with one of the Vidal Records board members. Christopher is continuing to work on acquiring the capital for a buyout.”

Arash’s brows shot up. “If he pulls it together, would you consider getting out?”

“If I only had him to worry about, I would.” Whether Ireland chose to join the family business in the future was still to be seen, but regardless, she had a stake in the success of the company, and Christopher made poor decisions. All of my offers to support him and offer guidance had been rejected. He often refused to listen to Chris as well, apparently assuming his father’s wisdom came in some part from me.

“What does the board think?”

“It’s viewed as a family feud and they want me to find a quick, painless resolution.”

“Is that possible? You’ve never gotten along with your brother.”

I shook my head. “It’s a nonstarter.”

I knew Arash couldn’t understand. He had a brother and sister of his own, and his family was extremely tight-knit.

He sighed. “Sorry, man. That’s tough.”

In an ideal world, Christopher would be attending my bachelor party weekend. We’d be close. He would be the best man at my wedding …

… which was a position I hadn’t yet asked anyone to fill. Arnoldo had taken the reins with the weekend planning, but I didn’t know if he had done so because he assumed he’d be standing beside me at the wedding. Maybe he just had more initiative than the other guys.

Only a few short weeks ago it would have been a no-brainer to have Arnoldo stand with me. Part of me hoped that he still would.

Arash was also a good choice. Unlike Arnoldo, I saw Arash nearly every day. And as my attorney, he knew things about me—and Eva—that no one else did. I could trust him with anything, even without the protection of attorney/client privilege.

But Arnoldo was direct with me in a way no one else was, aside from my wife. I’d long thought that Arnoldo’s blunt, incisive advice had kept me from becoming too cynical and jaded.

This weekend should make the choice between the two men clear.

It felt … wrong to stand outside Eva’s apartment door and wait for her. As I leaned against the wall opposite the doorway, I considered how swiftly things had turned a corner and how violently opposed I was to having them ever go back. I hadn’t known it could be like this between us. Open, nothing to hide, so deeply in love.

There had been glimpses of this life before. Some of the nights we’d spent together in the apartment next door. The weekends we’d sneaked away to be alone together. But those times had existed in a vacuum. Now, we lived those moments openly. It would be even better when the world knew we were married and she lived completely in the penthouse with me.

The door opened and Eva stepped out, looking cool and sexy in a sleeveless red wrap dress and heeled sandals. She had sunglasses perched atop her head and was wheeling a suitcase out beside her. The next time she packed, it would be for our honeymoon. We’d leave together, like we were doing now, but we would stay together from that moment forward.

“Here,” I said, straightening to take the suitcase from her.

She tackled me as I reached for it, her body soft and warm against mine. She pulled my head down and kissed me, a quick, sweet kiss. “You should’ve come in.”

“You and me with a bed nearby?” I caught her around the waist and steered her toward the elevator. “I would’ve taken advantage, if I didn’t think Cary would bang on the door and bitch about missing your flight.”

Eva separated from me as we descended to the lobby, reaching behind her to grab the handrail and showing off her sexy legs. It was a full-body flirt, with her eyes playing the game, too. They sparkled at me as she licked her bottom lip. “You look super sexy.”

I glanced down at the white V-neck T-shirt and khakis I’d changed into before leaving work.

“You usually wear dark colors,” she pointed out.

“Too hot for that where we’re going.”

“You’re too hot.” She lifted one foot off the elevator floor and slowly rubbed her thighs together.

Amused and feeling the slow heat of building arousal, I settled back and enjoyed the show.

Once we’d reached the lobby, I gestured her out in front of me, catching up to her in two strides so I could place my hand at the small of her back.

She tossed me a smile over her shoulder. “There’s going to be traffic.”

“Damn.” Traffic—and the time it would add to the commute—was what I was counting on.

“You sound sooo disappointed,” she teased, before smiling at the doorman, who opened the door for her.

Raúl waited outside by the limo. In moments, we were on our way, merging into the sea of cars battling their way across Manhattan.

Eva took the bench seat that spanned the length of the vehicle, while I settled on the seat in the back. “Want a drink?” she asked, looking at the bar across from her.

“Do you?”

“I’m not sure.” Her lips pursed. “I wanted one earlier.”

I waited for her to make up her mind, my gaze sliding over her. She was my joy, the light in my world. I would do anything to keep her carefree and content for the rest of her life. It weighed on me to think I might have to hurt her. She’d been through so much already.

If we found out that Monica was not who Eva thought she was at all, how would I break that news? My wife had been crushed when she realized her mother was tracking her via her mobile phone, her watch, and a compact mirror in her purse. A false identity was a much worse betrayal.

And what did that fake identity hide?

“I can’t find a dress,” she said abruptly, her lush mouth turned down in a frown.

It took me a beat to snap out of my thoughts and register what she was saying. “For the wedding?”

She nodded, looking so despondent I wanted to pull her close and press kisses all over her beautiful face.

“Want me to help, angel?”

“You can’t. The groom isn’t supposed to see the wedding dress before the big day.” Her eyes widened with shock and horror. “You saw the dress I wore when we got married the first time!”