“Eva, honey.”
I exhaled at the sound of my mother’s watery voice. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“Will you see me? Maybe we could have lunch?”
“Sure. Today?”
“If you could.” She took a breath that sounded like a sob. “I really need to see you.”
“Okay.” My stomach knotted with concern. I hated hearing my mother so upset. “Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”
“Clancy and I will come get you. You take lunch at noon, right?”
“Yes. I’ll meet you at the curb.”
“Good.” She paused. “I love you.”
“I know, Mom. I love you, too.”
We hung up and I stared down at the phone.
How was our family going to move forward from here?
I sent a quick text to Gideon, letting him know I’d have to take a rain check on lunch. I needed to get my relationship with my mom back on track.
Knowing I needed more coffee to tackle the day ahead, I set off to fill up.
I left my desk exactly at noon and headed down to the lobby. As the hours passed, I grew more and more excited about getting away with Gideon. Away from Corinne, and Deanna, and Brett.
I’d just passed through the security turnstiles when I saw him.
Jean-François Giroux stood at the security desk, looking distinctly European and very attractive. His wavy dark hair was longer than it had been in the pictures I’d seen of him, his face less tan and his mouth harder, framed by a goatee. The pale green of his eyes was even more striking in person, even though they were red with weariness. From the small carry-on at his feet, I suspected he’d come straight to the Crossfire from the airport.
“Mon Dieu. How slow are the elevators in this building?” he asked the security guard in a clipped French accent. “It’s impossible that it should take twenty minutes to come down from the top.”
“Mr. Cross is on his way,” the guard replied staunchly, remaining in his chair.
As if he sensed my gaze, Giroux’s head swiveled toward me and his gaze narrowed. He pushed away from the counter, striding toward me. The cut of his suit was tighter than Gideon’s, narrower at the waist and calves. The impression I got of him was too neat and rigid, a man who assumed power by enforcing rules.
“Eva Tramell?” he asked, startling me with his recognition.
“Mr. Giroux.” I offered my hand.
He took it, then surprised me by leaning in and kissing both of my cheeks. Perfunctory, absentminded kisses, but that wasn’t the point. Even for a Frenchman, it was a familiar gesture from someone who was a total stranger to me.
When he stepped back, I looked at him with raised brows.
“Would you have time to speak with me?” he asked, still holding my hand.
“I’m afraid not today.” I tugged away gently. Anonymity was created just by being in a massive space crowded with people rushing to and fro, but with Deanna lurking around, I couldn’t be too careful about who I was seen with. “I have a lunch date and then I’m leaving directly after work.”
“Tomorrow, perhaps?”
“I’ll be out of town this weekend. Monday would be the earliest.”
“Out of town. With Cross?”
My head canted to the side as I examined him, trying to read him. “That’s really none of your business, but yes.”
I told the truth so he’d know that Gideon had a woman in his life who wasn’t Corinne.
“Does it not bother you,” he said, his tone noticeably cooling, “that he used my wife to make you jealous and bring you back to him?”
“Gideon wants to be friends with Corinne. Friends spend time together.”
“You’re blond, but surely you can’t be so naïve as to believe that.”
“You’re stressed,” I countered, “but surely you know you’re being an ass.”
I registered Gideon’s presence before I felt his hand on my arm.
“You’ll apologize, Giroux,” he interjected with dangerous softness. “And do so sincerely.”
Giroux shot him a look so filled with anger and loathing, it made me shift restlessly on my feet. “Making me wait is classless, Cross, even for you.”
“If the insult were intentional, you’d know it.” Gideon’s mouth thinned into a line as sharp as a blade. “The apology, Giroux. I’ve never been anything but polite and respectful to Corinne. You will show Eva the same courtesy.”
To the casual observer, his pose was loose and relaxed, but I felt the fury in him. I sensed it in both men—one hot and one icy cool, the tension building by the moment. The space around us felt like it was closing in, which was insane considering how wide and deep the lobby was, and how high the ceiling soared.
Afraid they’d come to blows right there, regardless of being in such a populated space, I reached over and caught Gideon’s hand in mine, giving it a light squeeze.
Giroux’s gaze dropped to our linked hands, then rose to meet my eyes. “Pardonnez-moi,” he said, inclining his head slightly to me. “You are not at fault here.”
“Don’t let us hold you up,” Gideon murmured to me, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
But I lingered, hating to walk away. “You should be with your wife,” I said to Giroux.
“She should be with me,” he corrected.
I reminded myself that he hadn’t come after her when she’d left him. He’d been too busy blaming Gideon instead of fixing his marriage.
“Eva,” my mom called, having come inside to find me. She approached on nude Louboutins, her slender body draped in a soft silk halter dress in a matching hue. In the dark marble-lined lobby, she was a bright spot.
“Let’s get you on your way, angel,” Gideon said. “Give me a minute, Giroux.”
I hesitated before walking away. “Good-bye, Monsieur Giroux.”
“Miss Tramell,” he said, tearing his gaze away from Gideon. “Until next time.”
I left because I didn’t have a choice, but I didn’t like it. Gideon walked me over to intercept my mom, and I looked at him, letting him see the worry on my face.
His eyes reassured me. I saw the same latent power and uncompromising control that I’d recognized when we first met. He could handle Giroux. He could handle anything.
“Enjoy your lunch,” Gideon said, kissing my mom’s cheek before facing me and giving me a quick, hard kiss on the mouth.
I watched him walk away and was unnerved by the intensity with which Giroux’s eyes followed his return.
My mom’s arm linking with mine brought my attention to her.
“Hi,” I said, trying to push my unease away. I waited for her to ask if the guys were going to join us, since she loved nothing more than spending time with rich handsome men, but she didn’t.
“Are you and Gideon trying to work things out?” she asked instead.
“Yes.”
I glanced at her before I preceded her through the revolving door. She looked more fragile than ever, her skin pale and her eyes lacking their usual sparkle. I waited until she joined me outside, my senses struggling to adjust to the change wrought by stepping out of the cool, cavernous lobby into the sweltering heat and explosion of noise and activity on the street.
I smiled at Clancy as he opened the back door to the town car. “Hey, Clancy.”
As my mom slid gracefully into the back of the car, he smiled back. At least I think it was a smile. His mouth twitched a little.
“How are you?” I asked him.
He gave me a brisk nod in reply. “And you?”
“Hanging in there.”
“You’ll be all right,” he said, just as I slid into the car beside my mom. He sounded a lot more confident about that than I felt.
THE first few minutes of lunch were filled with an awkward silence. Sunlight flooded the New American bistro my mom had selected, which only made the unease between us more obvious.
I waited for my mom to start things off, since she was the one who wanted to talk. I had plenty to say, but first I needed to know what the priority was for her. Was it the trust she’d broken by putting a tracking device in my Rolex? Was it her cheating on Stanton with my dad?