Reflected in You: A Crossfire Novel

domain. It was a massive space, with three distinct seating areas, each larger than my boss Mark’s entire office. In contrast to the elegant warmth of Gideon’s apartment, his office was decorated in a cool palette of black, gray, and white broken only by the jewel-toned crystal decanters that decorated the wall behind a bar.
    Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city on two sides. The one solid wall opposite the immense desk was covered in flat screens streaming news channels from around the world.
    My gaze swept the room and caught on the throw pillow that had been carelessly knocked to the floor. Beside it were indents in the area rug that betrayed where the couch feet were usually planted. The piece of furniture had, apparently, been bumped askew by a few inches.
    My heart rate sped up and my palms grew damp. That awful anxiety I’d felt earlier intensified.
    I had just noticed the open door to the washroom when Gideon stepped into view, stealing my breath with the beauty of his exposed torso. His hair was damp, as if from a recent shower, and his neck and upper chest were still flushed, as it became when he exerted himself physically.
    He froze when he saw me, his gaze darkening for an instant before his perfect, implacable mask slid effortlessly into place.
    “It’s not a good time, Eva,” he said, shrugging into a dress shirt he’d had draped over the back of a bar stool . . . a different shirt from the one he’d been wearing earlier that morning. “I’m running late to an appointment.”
    I gripped my purse tightly. Seeing him so intimately brought home how badly I wanted him. I loved him insanely, needed him like I needed to breathe . . . which only made it easier for me to understand how Magdalene and Corinne felt, and to relate to any lengths they might go to in trying to lure him away from me. “Why are you half dressed?”
    There was no help for it. My body responded instinctively to the sight of his, which made it even harder for me to rein in my rioting emotions. His open, neatly pressed dress shirt revealed golden skin stretched tightly over washboard abs and perfectly defined pectorals. A dusting of dark hair over his chest arrowed down and darkened into a thin line, leading to a cock presently encased in boxer briefs and slacks. Just thinking about how he felt inside me made me ache with longing.
    “I got something on my shirt.” He began buttoning up, his abs flexing with his movements as he crossed over to the bar, where I saw his cuff links waiting. “I have to run. If you need something, let Scott know and he’ll see to it. Or I’ll take care of it when I get back. I shouldn’t be more than two hours.”
    “Why are you running late?”
    He didn’t look at me when he answered, “I had to squeeze in a last-minute meeting.”
    Did you now? “You showered this morning.” After making love to me for an hour. “Why did you have to shower again?”
    “Why the inquisition?” he snapped.
    Needing answers, I went to the washroom. The lingering humidity was oppressive. Ignoring the voice in my head telling me not to look for trouble I couldn’t bear to find, I dug his shirt out of the laundry basket . . . and saw red lipstick smeared like a bloodstain on one of the cuffs. Pain twisted through my chest.
    Dropping the garment on the floor, I pivoted and left, needing to get as far away from Gideon as possible. Before I threw up or started sobbing.
    “Eva!” he snapped as I hurried past him. “What the hell is the matter with you?”
    “Fuck you, asswipe.”
    “Excuse me?”
    My hand was on the door handle when he caught me, yanking me back by the elbow. Spinning, I slapped him with enough force to turn his head and set my palm on fire.
    “Goddamn it,” he growled, grabbing me by the arms and shaking me. “Don’t fucking hit me!”
    “Don’t touch me!” The feel of his bare hands on the bare skin of my arms was too much.
    He shoved back and away from me. “What the fuck’s gotten into you?”
    “I saw her, Gideon.”
    “Saw who?”
    “Corinne!”
    He scowled. “What are you talking about?”
    Pulling my smartphone out, I thrust the photo in his face. “Busted.”
    Gideon’s gaze narrowed on the screen, and then his scowl cleared. “Busted doing what, exactly?” he asked, too softly.
    “Oh, screw you.” I turned toward the door, shoving my phone in my purse. “I’m not spelling it out for you.”
    His palm slapped against the glass, holding the