I turned at her question and barely caught her when she ran into me, holding her at bay with a grip on her upper arms.

The devastation on her beautiful face got to me before I could process what she’d said. Then it registered. Horrified, I shoved her away. She stumbled back as her heels caught in the carpet.

“Don’t put that on me,” I warned, my voice low and hard. “I’m not responsible for your happiness.

I’m not responsible for you at all.”

“What’s wrong with you?” she cried. “This isn’t you.”

“You wouldn’t know.” I went to the door and yanked it open. “Go home to your husband, Corinne.

Take care of yourself.”

“Fuck you,” she hissed. “You’re going to regret this, and I might be too hurt to forgive you.” “Good-bye, Corinne.”

She stared at me for a long minute and then stormed out of my office.

“Damn it.” I pivoted, not knowing where to go or what to do, but I had to do something. Anything. I paced.

I’d pulled out my smartphone and called Eva before I consciously made the decision to do so. “Mark Garrity’s office,” she began.

“Angel.” The one word betrayed my relief at hearing her voice. She was what I needed. Something in me had known that.

“Gideon.” She read me immediately, as she so often did. “Is everything all right?”

I glanced out at my staff in the distant cubicles getting into the groove of the day. I hit the controls to frost the glass, carving out a moment alone with my wife.

I lightened my tone, not wanting to cause her stress. “I miss you already.”

She waited a beat before replying, adjusting to my mood. “Liar,” she shot back. “You’re too busy.” “Never. Now, tell me how much you’re missing me.”

She laughed. “You’re terrible. What am I going to do with you?” “Everything.”

“Damn straight. So what’s up? It’s going to be a busy day and I have to get going.”

I went to my desk and studied her photo. My shoulders relaxed. “Just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you.”

“Good. Don’t stop. And FYI, it’s nice to hear you not grumpy at work.”

It was nice to hear her, period. I’d given up trying to figure out why she affected me the way she did. I just appreciated that she could reset my day. “Tell me you love me.”

“Madly. You rock my world, Mr. Cross.”

I stared into her laughing eyes, my fingertip brushing lightly over the glass. “You’re the center of mine.”

THE rest of the morning passed swiftly and uneventfully. I was wrapping up a meeting regarding a possible investment in a proposed resort chain when yet another personal interruption showed up. So much for workflow.

“You’ve got to fuck up everything, don’t you?” my brother accused, barging into my office with Scott on his heels.

With a look, I gave Scott the okay to back out. He shut the door behind him. “Good afternoon to you, too, Christopher.”

We shared blood but could not have been less alike. Like his father’s, his hair was wavy and fell somewhere between brown and red. His eyes were a gray mixed with green, while I was most definitely our mother’s son.

“Did you forget that Vidal Records is Ireland’s legacy, too?” he snapped, his eyes hard. “I never forget that.”

“Then you just don’t give a shit. Your vendetta against Brett Kline is costing us money, damn you.

You’re hurting all of us, not just him.”

Moving to my desk, I leaned against it and crossed my arms. I should’ve seen it coming, considering how irate Christopher had become at the Times Square launch of the “Golden” video. He wanted Kline and Eva together. More than that, he wanted Eva and me apart.

It was the sad truth that I brought out the worst in my brother. The only times he ever acted cruelly or rashly was when he was trying to hurt me. I’d seen him give brilliant speeches, charm people with his natural charisma, and impress board members with his industry savvy, but he never displayed those traits toward me.

Frustrated by his unprovoked animosity, I baited him. “I’m assuming you’re going to get to the point soon.”

“Don’t play innocent, Gideon. You knew exactly what you were doing when you systematically destroyed every media opportunity Vidal secured for Six-Ninths.”

“If those opportunities were centered on Eva, they had no business being pursued to begin with.” “That’s not your decision to make.” His mouth twisted in a scornful smile. “Do you even

comprehend the damage you’ve done? Behind the Music has delayed their special because Sam Yimara no longer owns the rights to the footage he compiled of the band’s early years. Diners, Drive- Ins and Dives can’t include Pete’s 69th Street Bar in their San Diego episode, because it’s being demolished before they can film their segment. And Rolling Stone isn’t interested in pursuing their proposed piece on ‘Golden’ since your engagement was announced. The song loses its interest without the happy ending.”

“I can get you the footage VH1 wants. Put them in touch with Arash and he’ll take care of it.” “After you remove all traces of Eva? What’s the point?”

My brows lifted. “The point is supposed to be Six-Ninths, not my wife.”

“She’s not your wife yet,” he shot back, “and that’s your problem. You’re afraid she’s going to go back to Brett. You’re not really her type and we all know it. You can eat her pussy at parties, but what she really likes is blowing rock stars in public—”

I was on him before he blinked. My fist hit his jaw; his head jerked back. I caught him with a follow-up left and he stumbled, crashing into the glass wall.

Through it, I glimpsed Scott shoving to his feet, and then I braced for the impact of Christopher’s body hurtling into mine. We went down. I rolled, punching his ribs until he groaned. He slammed his head into my temple.

The room spun.

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 572