Entwined with You
Page 58

His phone log showed mostly calls placed between him and Angus, Raúl, or Scott. There were voice mails from Corinne I refused to torture myself by listening to, but I could see he hadn’t answered her or called her in a while. There were calls between him and business associates—a couple with Arnoldo, and several with his attorneys.
And three calls exchanged between him and Deanna Johnson.
My gaze narrowed. Those ranged from several minutes long to a quarter of an hour.
I checked his text messages and found the one he’d sent to Angus when we were at the hospital.
I need her out of here.
Sinking into the armchair in the corner of the room, I stared at the message. Need, not want. For some reason, the word choice changed my perception of what happened. I still didn’t get it completely, but I didn’t feel quite so … pushed aside.
There were also texts between him and Ireland, which made me happy. I didn’t read them but could see that the last one had come in on Monday.
Returning the phone to its former spot, I watched the man I loved sink into the deep sleep of exhaustion. Sprawled as he was, dressed as he was, he looked his age. He carried so much responsibility and he made it look so effortless … so innately artless, that it was easy to forget he was as vulnerable to being overworked and stressed out as anyone.
It was my job as his wife to help him deal with it. But that was impossible for me to do if he shut me out. In saving me worry, he took more onto himself.
We’d be talking about that as soon as he caught some sleep.
I woke with a crick in my neck and the lingering sense that something was wrong. Moving gingerly so as not to pull something, I unfolded from my curled-up position in the armchair and noted that the dawn was well on its way. Pinkish-orange light was visible through the windows, and a quick glance at the bedside clock told me it was creeping into morning.
Gideon groaned and I stilled, dread sliding through me at the sound. It was a terrible noise, the sound of a creature wounded in both body and soul. A chill swept over me as he moaned again, everything in me reacting violently to his torment.
Rushing to the bed, I climbed on it, kneeling as I pushed at his shoulder. “Gideon. Wake up.”
He flinched away from me, curling around my pillow and squeezing it. His body jerked as a sob escaped him.
I spooned behind him, wrapping one arm around his waist. “Shh, baby,” I whispered. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”
I rocked him as he cried in his sleep, my tears wetting his shirt.
“WAKE up, angel mine,” Gideon murmured, his lips brushing over my jaw. “I need you.”
I stretched, feeling lingering aches from the last two nights of hard training and the few hours I’d spent sleeping in the armchair before moving to the bed and joining him.
My T-shirt was pushed up, exposing my breasts to his avid, hungry mouth. A hand pushed beneath the waistband of my sweats and then my panties, finding my cleft and expertly coaxing me to a swift arousal.
“Gideon …” I could feel the need in his touch, the desire that was far more than skin deep.
He took my mouth, hushing me with a kiss. My hips arched as his fingers pushed into me, fucking me gently. Eager to answer his silent demand for more, I pushed at my sweats, kicking restlessly until I got them off.
I reached for the button fly of his jeans, yanking it open and shoving the denim and cotton boxer briefs out of the way.
“Put me inside you,” he whispered against my lips.
I circled his thick erection with my fingers, positioning him and then lifting to take the first inch of him inside me.
Burying his face in my neck, he thrust, sinking into me, moaning with pleasure as I closed tight around him. “Christ, Eva. I need you so much.”
My arms and legs caged him, holding him tight.
Time and everything else in the world ceased to matter. Gideon renewed all the promises he’d made to me on the sands of a Caribbean beach, and I tried to heal him, hoping to give him the strength he needed to face another day.
I was putting on my makeup when Gideon joined me in the bathroom, setting a steaming mug of creamy sweet coffee on the marble counter next to me. He wore nothing but pajama pants, so I guessed he wasn’t going into the office or at least not right away.
Eyeing him in the mirror, I searched for signs that he remembered his dreams. I’d never seen him so deeply troubled, as if his heart were breaking.
“Eva,” he said quietly, “we need to talk.”
“I’m on board with that.”
Leaning back against the counter, he held his mug in both hands. He stared down into his coffee for a long minute before asking, “Did you make a sex tape with Brett Kline?”
“What?” I faced him, my hand tightening on the handle of my makeup brush. “No. Fuck no. Why would you ask me that?”
He held my gaze. “When I came back from the hospital the other night, Deanna caught up with me in the lobby. After the situation with Corinne, I knew brushing her off was the wrong approach.”
“I told you that.”
“I know. You were right. So I took her to the bar up the street, bought her a glass of wine, and apologized.”
“You took her out for wine,” I repeated.
“No, I took her out to tell her I’m sorry for how I treated her. I bought her the wine so we had a reason to be sitting in the damn bar,” he said irritably. “I figured you’d prefer a public place over bringing her up to the apartment, which would have been more convenient and private.”
He was right, and I appreciated his thinking of how I’d react and making accommodations for it. But I was still annoyed that Deanna had snagged a pseudo date with him.
Gideon must have known what I was feeling because his lips tilted up on one side. “So possessive, angel. You’re lucky I like it so much.”
“Shut up. What does Deanna have to do with a sex tape? Did she tell you there was one? It’s a lie. She’s lying.”
“She’s not. My apology smoothed things over enough for her to throw me a bone. She told me about the tape and that an auction for it was imminent.”
“I’m telling you, she’s full of shit,” I argued.
“You know a guy named Sam Yimara?”
Everything stopped. Anxiety pooled in the pit of my stomach. “Yes, he was the band’s wannabe videographer.”
“Right.” He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes hard as they looked at me over the rim of his mug. “He apparently set up remote cameras at some of the band’s shows to gather backstage material. He claims to have re-created the ‘Golden’ video with actual explicit footage.”
“Oh my God.” I covered my mouth, feeling sick.
It was bad enough thinking about strangers watching Brett and me fucking, but it was a million times worse imagining Gideon seeing it. I could still picture the look on his face when he’d watched the music video, and that had been terrible. He and I would never be the same if he viewed the real deal. I knew I’d never be able to scrub images of him and another woman out of my mind. And over time, they’d eat at me like acid.
“That’s why you went to California,” I whispered, horrified.
“Deanna gave me what information she had, and I secured a temporary injunction barring Yimara from licensing or selling the video.”
I couldn’t get a clue about what he was thinking or feeling from his body language. He was closed tight and restrained, rigidly in control. While I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. “You can’t stop it from getting out,” I whispered.
“We have a temporary seal on the court proceedings.”
“That video hits one of those file-sharing sites and it’ll spread like the plague.”
He shook his head, the ends of his inky hair brushing over his shoulders. “I’ve got an IT team dedicated to nothing but looking twenty-four-seven for that file on the Internet, but Yimara won’t make any money giving the footage away. It’s only worth something as an exclusive. He’s not going to fuck that up before he exhausts all other options—including selling it to me.”
“Deanna will tell. It’s her job to expose secrets, not keep them.”
“I offered her a forty-eight-hour exclusive on our wedding photos, if she keeps a lid on this.”
“And she was okay with that?” I asked skeptically. “That woman’s hot for you. She can’t have been happy about you being off the market. Permanently.”
“There is a point at which it becomes clear there’s no hope,” he said dryly. “I think I managed to make that point. Trust me, she was happy enough with the money to be made on the wedding exclusive.”
I moved to the toilet, dropped the lid down, and sat. The reality of what he’d told me sank in. “I’m sick over this, Gideon.”
He set his coffee down next to mine and came to crouch in front of me. “Look at me.”
I did as he ordered, but it was hard.
“I will never let anyone hurt you,” he said. “Do you understand? I will take care of this.”
“I’m sorry,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this. And with everything else you have going on—”
Gideon caught my hands. “Someone violated your privacy, Eva. Don’t apologize for that. As for dealing with this … that’s my right. My honor. You’ll always come first.”
“It didn’t seem like I came first at the hospital,” I argued, needing to get the resentment out before it festered. And needing him to explain why he was always pushing me away when he was trying to protect me. “Everything went to hell and you shoved me at Angus when I wanted to be there for you. You took off to another state and didn’t call … didn’t say anything.”
His jaw tightened. “And I didn’t sleep. It took every minute I had and too many favors to count to get that injunction done in the time I had to work with. You have to trust me, Eva. Even if you don’t understand what I’m doing, trust that I’m always thinking of you and doing what’s best for you. For us.”