last couple of years.
I watched as he settled into the gray wingback chair across from the sofa Gideon and I sat on. His keen gaze shifted between us, clearly noting how we’d each taken seats on opposite ends of the sofa, our stiff postures revealing our defensiveness. We’d made the drive over in the same way.
Flipping open the cover of his tablet, Dr. Petersen gripped his stylus and said, “Shall we start with the cause of the tension between you?”
I waited a beat, to give Gideon a chance to speak first. I wasn’t terribly surprised when he just sat there, silent. “Well . . . in the last twenty-four hours I’ve met the fiancée I didn’t know Gideon had—”
“Ex-fiancée,” Gideon growled.
“—I found out the reason he’s dated brunettes exclusively is because of her—”
“It wasn’t dating.”
“—and I caught her leaving his office after lunch looking like this—” I dug out my phone.
“She was leaving the building,” Gideon bit out, “not my office.”
I pulled up the picture and passed my phone over to Dr. Petersen. “And getting into your car, Gideon!”
“Angus just told you before we got here that he saw her standing there, recognized her, and was being polite.”
“Like he’d say anything different!” I shot back. “He’s been your driver since you were a kid. Of course he’d cover your ass.”
“Oh, it’s a conspiracy now?”
“What was he doing there, then?” I challenged.
“Driving me to lunch.”
“Where? I’ll just verify you were there and she wasn’t, and we’ll get that part out of the way.”
Gideon’s jaw clenched. “I told you. I had an unexpected appointment. I didn’t make it to lunch.”
“Who was the appointment?”
“It wasn’t Corinne.”
“That’s not an answer!” I turned back to Dr. Petersen, who calmly returned my phone to me. “When I went up to his office to ask him what the hell was going on, I discovered him half dressed and freshly showered, with one of his sofas bumped out of place, pillows strewn all over the floor—”
“One goddamned pillow!”
“—and red lipstick on his shirt.”
“There are two dozen businesses in the Crossfire,” Gideon said coldly. “She could have been visiting any one of them.”
“Right,” I drawled, my voice dripping sarcasm. “Of course.”
“Wouldn’t I have taken her to the hotel?”
I sucked in a sharp breath, reeling. “You still have that room?”
His mask slipped, revealing a flare of panic. The realization that he still had his sex pad—a hotel room he used exclusively for fucking and somewhere I’d never go again—hit me like a physical blow, sending a sharp pain through my chest. A low sound left me, a pained whimper that had me squeezing my eyes shut.
“Let’s slow down,” Dr. Petersen interrupted, scribbling rapidly. “I want to backtrack a bit. Gideon, why didn’t you tell Eva about Corinne?”
“I had every intention of doing so,” Gideon said tightly.
“He doesn’t tell me anything,” I whispered, digging for a tissue in my purse so I wouldn’t have mascara running down my face. Why would he keep that room? The only explanation was that he intended to use it with someone other than me.
“What do you talk about?” Dr. Petersen asked, directing the question at both of us.
“I’m usually apologizing,” Gideon muttered.
Dr. Petersen looked up. “For what?”
“Everything.” He raked a hand through his hair.
“Do you feel that Eva’s too demanding or expects too much from you?”
I felt Gideon’s gaze on my profile. “No. She doesn’t ask for anything.”
“Except the truth,” I corrected, turning toward him.
His eyes blazed, searing me with heat. “I’ve never lied to you.”
“Do you want her to ask you for things, Gideon?” Dr. Petersen queried.
Gideon frowned.
“Think about that. We’ll come back to it.” Dr. Petersen turned his attention to me. “I’m intrigued by the photo you took, Eva. You were
I watched as he settled into the gray wingback chair across from the sofa Gideon and I sat on. His keen gaze shifted between us, clearly noting how we’d each taken seats on opposite ends of the sofa, our stiff postures revealing our defensiveness. We’d made the drive over in the same way.
Flipping open the cover of his tablet, Dr. Petersen gripped his stylus and said, “Shall we start with the cause of the tension between you?”
I waited a beat, to give Gideon a chance to speak first. I wasn’t terribly surprised when he just sat there, silent. “Well . . . in the last twenty-four hours I’ve met the fiancée I didn’t know Gideon had—”
“Ex-fiancée,” Gideon growled.
“—I found out the reason he’s dated brunettes exclusively is because of her—”
“It wasn’t dating.”
“—and I caught her leaving his office after lunch looking like this—” I dug out my phone.
“She was leaving the building,” Gideon bit out, “not my office.”
I pulled up the picture and passed my phone over to Dr. Petersen. “And getting into your car, Gideon!”
“Angus just told you before we got here that he saw her standing there, recognized her, and was being polite.”
“Like he’d say anything different!” I shot back. “He’s been your driver since you were a kid. Of course he’d cover your ass.”
“Oh, it’s a conspiracy now?”
“What was he doing there, then?” I challenged.
“Driving me to lunch.”
“Where? I’ll just verify you were there and she wasn’t, and we’ll get that part out of the way.”
Gideon’s jaw clenched. “I told you. I had an unexpected appointment. I didn’t make it to lunch.”
“Who was the appointment?”
“It wasn’t Corinne.”
“That’s not an answer!” I turned back to Dr. Petersen, who calmly returned my phone to me. “When I went up to his office to ask him what the hell was going on, I discovered him half dressed and freshly showered, with one of his sofas bumped out of place, pillows strewn all over the floor—”
“One goddamned pillow!”
“—and red lipstick on his shirt.”
“There are two dozen businesses in the Crossfire,” Gideon said coldly. “She could have been visiting any one of them.”
“Right,” I drawled, my voice dripping sarcasm. “Of course.”
“Wouldn’t I have taken her to the hotel?”
I sucked in a sharp breath, reeling. “You still have that room?”
His mask slipped, revealing a flare of panic. The realization that he still had his sex pad—a hotel room he used exclusively for fucking and somewhere I’d never go again—hit me like a physical blow, sending a sharp pain through my chest. A low sound left me, a pained whimper that had me squeezing my eyes shut.
“Let’s slow down,” Dr. Petersen interrupted, scribbling rapidly. “I want to backtrack a bit. Gideon, why didn’t you tell Eva about Corinne?”
“I had every intention of doing so,” Gideon said tightly.
“He doesn’t tell me anything,” I whispered, digging for a tissue in my purse so I wouldn’t have mascara running down my face. Why would he keep that room? The only explanation was that he intended to use it with someone other than me.
“What do you talk about?” Dr. Petersen asked, directing the question at both of us.
“I’m usually apologizing,” Gideon muttered.
Dr. Petersen looked up. “For what?”
“Everything.” He raked a hand through his hair.
“Do you feel that Eva’s too demanding or expects too much from you?”
I felt Gideon’s gaze on my profile. “No. She doesn’t ask for anything.”
“Except the truth,” I corrected, turning toward him.
His eyes blazed, searing me with heat. “I’ve never lied to you.”
“Do you want her to ask you for things, Gideon?” Dr. Petersen queried.
Gideon frowned.
“Think about that. We’ll come back to it.” Dr. Petersen turned his attention to me. “I’m intrigued by the photo you took, Eva. You were
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