When dinner was announced, I went with him into the dining room and poked at my food. I drank a few glasses of the red wine they served with the meal and heard Gideon talking to our tablemates, although I didn't pay attention to the words, only to the cadence and the seductively deep, even tone. He made no attempt to draw me into the conversation and I was glad. I didn't think I could say anything nice.
I didn't become engaged until he stood to a round of applause and took the stage. Then I turned in my seat and watched him cross to the podium, unable to help admiring his animal grace and stunning good looks. Every step he took commanded attention and respect, which was a feat, considering his easy and unhurried stride.
He looked none the worse for wear after our abandoned f**king in his limo. In fact, he seemed like a totally different person. He was once again the man I'd met in the Crossfire lobby, supremely contained and quietly powerful.
"In North America," he began, "childhood sexual abuse is experienced by one in every four women and one in every six men. Take a good look around you. Someone at your table is either a survivor or knows someone who is. That's the unacceptable truth."
I was riveted. Gideon was a consummate orator, his vibrant baritone mesmerizing. But it was the topic, which hit so close to home, and his passionate and sometimes shocking way of discussing it, that moved me. I began to thaw, my bewildered fury and damaged self-confidence subverted by wonder. My view of him shifted, altering as I became simply another individual in a rapt audience. He wasn't the man who'd so recently hurt my feelings; he was just a skilled speaker discussing a subject that was deeply important to me.
When he finished, I stood and applauded, catching both him and myself by surprise. But others quickly joined me in the standing ovation and I heard the buzz of conversations around me, the quietly voiced compliments that were well deserved.
"You're a fortunate young lady."
I turned to look at the woman who spoke, a lovely redhead who appeared to be in her early forties. "We're just...friends."
Her serene smile somehow managed to argue with me.
People began stepping away from their tables. I was about to grab my clutch so I could leave for home when a young man came up to me. His wayward auburn hair inspired instant envy and his eyes of grayish-green were soft and friendly. Handsome and sporting a boyish grin, he lured the first genuine smile out of me since the ride over in the limousine.
"Hello there," he said.
He seemed to know who I was, which put me in the awkward position of pretending I wasn't clueless as to who he was. "Hello."
He laughed, and the sound was light and charming. "I'm Christopher Vidal, Gideon's brother."
"Oh, of course." My face heated. I couldn't believe I'd been so lost in my own pity party that I hadn't made the connection at once.
"You're blushing."
"I'm sorry." I offered a sheepish smile. "Not sure how to say I read an article about you without sounding awkward."
He laughed. "I'm flattered you remembered it. Just don't tell me it was in Page Six."
The gossip column was notorious for getting the goods on New York celebrities and socialites. "No," I said quickly. "Rolling Stone, maybe?"
"I can live with that." He extended his arm to me. "Would you like to dance?"
I glanced over to where Gideon was standing at the foot of the stairs that led to the stage. He was surrounded by people eager to talk to him, many of whom were women.
"You can see he'll be awhile," Christopher said, with a note of amusement.
"Yes." I was about to look away when I recognized the woman standing next to Gideon - Magdalene Perez.
I picked up my clutch and managed a smile for Christopher. "I'd love to dance."
Arm-in-arm we headed into the ballroom and stepped onto the dance floor. The band began the first strains of a waltz and we moved easily, naturally into the music. He was a skilled dancer, agile and confident in his lead.
"So, how do you know Gideon?"
"I don't." I nodded at Cary when he glided by with a statuesque blonde. "I work in the Crossfire and we've run into each other once or twice."
"You work for him?"
"No. I'm an assistant at Waters Field and Leaman."
"Ah." He grinned. "Ad agency."
"Yes."
"Gideon must really be into you to go from meeting you once or twice to dragging you out on a date like this."
I cursed inwardly. I'd known assumptions would be made, but I wanted more than ever to avoid further humiliation. "Gideon's acquainted with my mother and she'd already arranged for me to come, so it's just a matter of two people going to the same event in one car rather than two."
"So you're available?"
I took a deep breath, feeling uncomfortable despite how fluidly we moved together. "Well, I'm not taken."
Christopher flashed his charismatic boyish grin. "My night just took a turn for the better."
He filled the rest of the dance with amusing anecdotes about the music industry that made me laugh and took my mind off Gideon.
When the dance ended, Cary was there to take the next one. We danced very well as a couple because we'd taken lessons together. I relaxed into his hold, grateful to have him as moral support.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" I asked him.
"I pinched myself during dinner when I realized I was sitting next to the top coordinator for Fashion Week. And she flirted with me!" He smiled, but his eyes were haunted. "Whenever I find myself in places like this...dressed like this...I can't believe it. You saved my life, Eva. Then you changed it completely."
"You save my sanity all the time. Trust me, we're even."
His hand tightened on mine, his gaze hardening. "You look miserable. How'd he f**k up?"
"I think I did that. We'll talk about it later."
"You're afraid I'll kick his ass here in front of everyone."
I sighed. "I'd rather you didn't, for my mom's sake."
Cary pressed his lips briefly to my forehead. "I warned him earlier. He knows it's coming."
"Oh, Cary." Love for him tightened my throat even as reluctant amusement curved my lips. I should've known Cary would give Gideon a big brother threat of some sort. That was just so like him.
Gideon appeared beside us. "I'm cutting in."
It wasn't a request.
Cary stopped and looked at me. I nodded. He backed away with a bow, his gaze hot and fierce on Gideon's face.
Gideon pulled me close and took over the dance the way he took over everything - with dominant confidence. It was an entirely different experience dancing with him than with my two previous partners. Gideon had both the expertise of his brother and Cary's familiarity with the way my body moved, but Gideon had a bold, aggressive style that was inherently sexual.
It didn't help that being so close to a man I'd so recently been intimate with seduced my senses despite my unhappiness. He smelled scrumptious, with undertones of sex, and the way he led me through the bold sweeping steps made me feel the soreness deep inside me, reminding me that he'd been there not long ago.
I didn't become engaged until he stood to a round of applause and took the stage. Then I turned in my seat and watched him cross to the podium, unable to help admiring his animal grace and stunning good looks. Every step he took commanded attention and respect, which was a feat, considering his easy and unhurried stride.
He looked none the worse for wear after our abandoned f**king in his limo. In fact, he seemed like a totally different person. He was once again the man I'd met in the Crossfire lobby, supremely contained and quietly powerful.
"In North America," he began, "childhood sexual abuse is experienced by one in every four women and one in every six men. Take a good look around you. Someone at your table is either a survivor or knows someone who is. That's the unacceptable truth."
I was riveted. Gideon was a consummate orator, his vibrant baritone mesmerizing. But it was the topic, which hit so close to home, and his passionate and sometimes shocking way of discussing it, that moved me. I began to thaw, my bewildered fury and damaged self-confidence subverted by wonder. My view of him shifted, altering as I became simply another individual in a rapt audience. He wasn't the man who'd so recently hurt my feelings; he was just a skilled speaker discussing a subject that was deeply important to me.
When he finished, I stood and applauded, catching both him and myself by surprise. But others quickly joined me in the standing ovation and I heard the buzz of conversations around me, the quietly voiced compliments that were well deserved.
"You're a fortunate young lady."
I turned to look at the woman who spoke, a lovely redhead who appeared to be in her early forties. "We're just...friends."
Her serene smile somehow managed to argue with me.
People began stepping away from their tables. I was about to grab my clutch so I could leave for home when a young man came up to me. His wayward auburn hair inspired instant envy and his eyes of grayish-green were soft and friendly. Handsome and sporting a boyish grin, he lured the first genuine smile out of me since the ride over in the limousine.
"Hello there," he said.
He seemed to know who I was, which put me in the awkward position of pretending I wasn't clueless as to who he was. "Hello."
He laughed, and the sound was light and charming. "I'm Christopher Vidal, Gideon's brother."
"Oh, of course." My face heated. I couldn't believe I'd been so lost in my own pity party that I hadn't made the connection at once.
"You're blushing."
"I'm sorry." I offered a sheepish smile. "Not sure how to say I read an article about you without sounding awkward."
He laughed. "I'm flattered you remembered it. Just don't tell me it was in Page Six."
The gossip column was notorious for getting the goods on New York celebrities and socialites. "No," I said quickly. "Rolling Stone, maybe?"
"I can live with that." He extended his arm to me. "Would you like to dance?"
I glanced over to where Gideon was standing at the foot of the stairs that led to the stage. He was surrounded by people eager to talk to him, many of whom were women.
"You can see he'll be awhile," Christopher said, with a note of amusement.
"Yes." I was about to look away when I recognized the woman standing next to Gideon - Magdalene Perez.
I picked up my clutch and managed a smile for Christopher. "I'd love to dance."
Arm-in-arm we headed into the ballroom and stepped onto the dance floor. The band began the first strains of a waltz and we moved easily, naturally into the music. He was a skilled dancer, agile and confident in his lead.
"So, how do you know Gideon?"
"I don't." I nodded at Cary when he glided by with a statuesque blonde. "I work in the Crossfire and we've run into each other once or twice."
"You work for him?"
"No. I'm an assistant at Waters Field and Leaman."
"Ah." He grinned. "Ad agency."
"Yes."
"Gideon must really be into you to go from meeting you once or twice to dragging you out on a date like this."
I cursed inwardly. I'd known assumptions would be made, but I wanted more than ever to avoid further humiliation. "Gideon's acquainted with my mother and she'd already arranged for me to come, so it's just a matter of two people going to the same event in one car rather than two."
"So you're available?"
I took a deep breath, feeling uncomfortable despite how fluidly we moved together. "Well, I'm not taken."
Christopher flashed his charismatic boyish grin. "My night just took a turn for the better."
He filled the rest of the dance with amusing anecdotes about the music industry that made me laugh and took my mind off Gideon.
When the dance ended, Cary was there to take the next one. We danced very well as a couple because we'd taken lessons together. I relaxed into his hold, grateful to have him as moral support.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" I asked him.
"I pinched myself during dinner when I realized I was sitting next to the top coordinator for Fashion Week. And she flirted with me!" He smiled, but his eyes were haunted. "Whenever I find myself in places like this...dressed like this...I can't believe it. You saved my life, Eva. Then you changed it completely."
"You save my sanity all the time. Trust me, we're even."
His hand tightened on mine, his gaze hardening. "You look miserable. How'd he f**k up?"
"I think I did that. We'll talk about it later."
"You're afraid I'll kick his ass here in front of everyone."
I sighed. "I'd rather you didn't, for my mom's sake."
Cary pressed his lips briefly to my forehead. "I warned him earlier. He knows it's coming."
"Oh, Cary." Love for him tightened my throat even as reluctant amusement curved my lips. I should've known Cary would give Gideon a big brother threat of some sort. That was just so like him.
Gideon appeared beside us. "I'm cutting in."
It wasn't a request.
Cary stopped and looked at me. I nodded. He backed away with a bow, his gaze hot and fierce on Gideon's face.
Gideon pulled me close and took over the dance the way he took over everything - with dominant confidence. It was an entirely different experience dancing with him than with my two previous partners. Gideon had both the expertise of his brother and Cary's familiarity with the way my body moved, but Gideon had a bold, aggressive style that was inherently sexual.
It didn't help that being so close to a man I'd so recently been intimate with seduced my senses despite my unhappiness. He smelled scrumptious, with undertones of sex, and the way he led me through the bold sweeping steps made me feel the soreness deep inside me, reminding me that he'd been there not long ago.
