Reflected in You: A Crossfire Novel

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 confronted with a situation that many women would find deeply upsetting—”
    “There was no situation,” Gideon reiterated coldly.
    “Her perception of a situation,” Dr. Petersen qualified.
    “A patently ridiculous perception, considering the physical aspect of our relationship.”
    “All right. Let’s talk about that. How many times a week do you have sex? On average.”
    My face heated. I looked at Gideon, who returned my look with a smirk.
    “Umm . . .” My lips twisted ruefully. “A lot.”
    “Daily?” Dr. Petersen’s brows rose when I uncrossed and recrossed my legs, nodding. “Multiple times daily?”
    Gideon stepped in, “On average.”
    Laying his tablet flat on his lap, Dr. Petersen met Gideon’s gaze. “Is this level of sexual activity customary for you?”
    “Nothing about my relationship with Eva is customary, Doctor.”
    “What was the frequency of your sexual encounters prior to Eva?”
    Gideon’s jaw tensed, and he glanced at me.
    “It’s okay,” I told him, even as I conceded that I wouldn’t want to answer that question in front of him.
    He reached his hand out, spanning the distance between us. I placed mine in his and appreciated the reassuring squeeze he gave me. “Twice a week,” he said tightly. “On average.”
    The number of women quickly added up in my mind. My free hand fisted in my lap.
    Dr. Petersen sat back. “Eva has brought up concerns of infidelity and lack of communication in your relationship. How often is sex used to resolve disagreements?”
    Gideon’s brow arched. “Before you assume Eva’s suffering under the demands of my overactive libido, you should know that she initiates sex at least as often as I do. If one of us were going to have concerns about keeping up, it’d be me just by virtue of possessing male anatomy.”
    Dr. Petersen looked at me for confirmation.
    “Most interactions between us lead to sex,” I conceded, “including fights.”
    “Before or after the