Chapter 16
Waiting for the second pot of coffee to finish brewing, Eva watched Chase, Raúl, her father, Angus, and Gideon survey the floorplan and evacuation routes of the Bellingham Hotel and its ballroom while standing around her penthouse dining table.
This was usually one of the more exciting days of the year for her, but she couldn’t work up even the slightest bit of anticipation. She’d consider bowing out if it were any other event, but the masquerade was highly publicized. Guests worked for months with designers to curate their fashions to highlight elaborate masks that fit the year’s theme, and the photographs from the red carpet were widely circulated for a week or more after the event. While she and Gideon no longer walked the red carpet of any event after her mother’s murder, declining to attend the masquerade altogether wasn’t an option because she wouldn’t give whoever was sending them gruesome rhymes the satisfaction of seeing her hide.
Pulling the now-full carafe out of the coffeemaker, Eva carried it to the table and refilled the mugs that needed refreshing. It was half past eight in the morning, but Gideon had been focused on security for the masquerade since they’d found the crossbow bolt.
They’d left the beach early, returning to the city Thursday evening. It was no longer considered safe for them to be at the Outer Banks house, so they hadn’t spent another night. While the team gathered information and evidence, Gideon had broken the communications embargo they’d always maintained at the beach house—yet another choice that had been taken from them—to work on beefing up security at the masquerade, which was already substantial and would now be exceptionally so. Many of their guests would attend with their own security personnel, which was usually a logistical nightmare but appreciated this year.
Gideon caught her by the waist when she came close, pressing a brief kiss to her temple even as his eyes remained trained on the specific areas around the ballroom and its mezzanine that Chase was pointing out to him. Her husband was always aware of her and physically affectionate, but he’d been paying too close attention to her, and she knew he was concerned. He often asked her how she was feeling, and the truth was that she didn’t know.
For her husband, there was life before the crossbow bolt and life after, with a clearly delineated line between the two, but nothing was different for her. Their situation was precisely the same, and its effect on their lives—for her—was also unchanged.
She sighed and returned to the kitchen. It was a mistake to have brought up her desire for a child when she had. Her timing could not have been worse. Gideon was altered by her confession; she could feel it. There was an edgy impatience to how he was tackling the issue of their safety as if the urgency of her biological clock was something he now felt. The others could feel the difference, too. She saw the furtive glances they sent Gideon’s way, and their elevated somberness was an oppressive weight in the air.
Gideon loved her too much. Knowing she wanted something only he could give her was driving him hard, and he would push himself harder for her than for himself. While he still spoke with his usual measured command, seemingly as calm and collected as ever, his energy felt almost…frantic.
Putting the carafe back on the warming plate, she gripped the edge of the countertop and bowed her head. It would be a long day followed by an even longer evening. Then they’d have the weekend to face how they were trapped in their penthouse, unable to travel as they’d planned because a stalker was close enough to know where they’d be even when they acted spontaneously.
“ Eva. ”?
Her father’s voice had her straightening in a rush, gathering her self-control as best she could. She and Gideon couldn’t both be off their game simultaneously. One had to support the other, so she would shore him up and give him whatever strength she could.
“Yes?” She faced her dad with her shoulders back and chin lifted. “Bet you’re not happy about missing the excitement at the beach.”
“Excitement is not the word I’d use,” he said gruffly. His silvery gaze—which he’d passed down to her—was dark and turbulent. “Can we agree that you won’t make scheduling decisions for me moving forward? If I want to be somewhere, I should damn well be there.”
She released her pent-up breath in a quick, tremulous rush. “We always felt so safe there. And anonymous. Plus, sometimes we get frisky on the deck.”
“I know when to take a break.”
He came to her. He was so tall and broad-shouldered that he blocked her view of the dining table and the other men behind him until he was all she saw. Deep grooves bracketed his mouth, and lines of strain accompanied the concern in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, hating that he was under so much stress, too.
“Hey.”
It was crazy how much her father could convey with a single word.
Command, always—he could hush a crowded room in an instant. Today, there was admonition, too, letting her know he didn’t appreciate her bottling up her emotions. The note of sympathy, though, arrowed right into her heart. Her throat tightened, and her eyes stung with the threat of tears she couldn’t afford to shed. Not while the men she loved were walking on eggshells around her.
He opened his arms and beckoned her closer with both hands. Eva resisted at first, aware of her tenuous grip on her composure. Later, she couldn’t recall how she ended up enveloped in the strength and support of his familiar, beloved embrace. She just burrowed in and held on with everything she had.?
He rested his cheek against the crown of her head. “There’s my girl.”?
Gideon glanced into the kitchen and saw Victor hugging Eva tightly. It comforted him to see her being taken care of by her dad. He had so much to do that he appreciated the assist. And he understood why Victor needed to hold her close—Eva was the center of the world for both of them.
“We had everything covered already,” Raúl reiterated. “Every person working the event passed background checks and is a longtime employee of Cross Industries or the foundation. No one who’s been employed for less than two years will be staffing the event. We’re just focusing on redundancy at this point.”
Nodding, Gideon pulled out a chair and sat, his body sore from unrelenting tension.
Chase straightened and stretched. “I’ll run by the Bellingham again and reacquaint myself with the ballroom. I’ll also meet with hotel security and triple-check that enough staff are scheduled to cover every ingress point. I still say the mezzanine is a concern, though, and we should close it off.”
Sighing, Gideon nodded, but he knew their guests would be disappointed. The mezzanine’s velvet booths were popular places for private conversation and were one of the reasons they held the masquerade in the Bellingham’s glass-domed ballroom. Unlike the Met Gala in the spring, the foundation allowed guests to take selfies and photographs. “Can we close it off at the top of the staircase rather than below? It’s a popular picture spot.”
Raúl’s considered it. “The problem is it’s a vantage point, so we don’t want people loitering on the stairs. Can you put a photographer there to handle the picture taking so it moves quickly? Maybe more than one?”
“Yes,” Gideon conceded. “I can run with that.”
If they roped off the dual curving staircase at the top and bottom, they could form lines on either side at the base. With the help of assistants, four photographers could position the attendees on each sweeping curve’s high and low ends, and keep things moving
“We’ll have to decorate the mezzanine,” he thought out loud, “to minimize the visual of empty space up there. I’ll ask the events team at the hotel to do what they can.”
“Nothing wide,” Angus cautioned. “Nothing anyone can hide behind. Slender trees would be better. Maybe use some of those tiny lights to dress ‘em up.”
Gideon shot him a surprised but approving look. Fairy lights weren’t something he’d expected the Scot to be aware of. Then again, not much escaped Angus’ keen eye. “Good idea.”
Chase looked at Angus. “Want to tag along?”
The Scot shook his head. “I’ve an unrelated matter to discuss with Gideon.”
“All right. I’ll be in touch then.” Chase moved quickly through the living room and left.
Raúl grabbed a seat at the other end of the table and pulled his laptop out to work. Eva and her father sat at the kitchen island, talking over coffee. Gideon sat back in his chair, feeling the warning signs of an imminent headache.
“You and Eva could use a nap,” Angus noted. “Make sure you both get one. You should be as alert as possible tonight.”
“Christopher is calling at nine to tell me what the hell is happening at Vidal,” Gideon said wearily. “I should’ve known something was wrong and asked more questions when Ireland came to me the other night—I just didn’t want to step on her toes. I’d planned to find out how the company was doing but had other things on my mind.”
“You’ve got a lot on your plate, lad. I hate to add more to it.”
Gideon gave him a level look. “But you have something.”
Angus nodded. “Did you have a chance to review the dossier I sent you on Boudreaux?”
“Not yet. But the situation with Vidal will get my full attention this weekend.”
Reaching into his bag, Angus withdrew a folder and opened it on the table. He pushed the photos inside up and out of the way. Gideon recognized a mugshot when he saw one, and there were multiple of the same guy at different ages of his life.
Now intensely curious, he leaned forward and spread the photos to see more than partial images. “This is the guy who maneuvered Chris out of the company? He’s got a rap sheet? For what?”
Angus found the paper he was looking for and handed it over.
Gideon read through it, his brows lifting. He flipped it over, then shuffled through the other papers. “What did he get arrested for the second time?”
“Different man. The father.”
He lifted both photos to study them side by side. “Fascinating.”
“Your sister says Chris is the reason Boudreaux has targeted Vidal Records. That it’s a personal vendetta of some sort. I’m looking into it since she didn’t know more, but you need to understand this isn’t just business. Something brought him all this way with a commitment to losing substantial money.”
“Hey!” Eva called out behind him. “Whose pictures are you looking at?”
“They’re mugshots, angel.”
“Really?”
Her voice was more animated than he’d heard in days, which drew his attention to her. She hopped off the barstool and headed his way, stopping at his side with her hand on his shoulder.
“Oh, my god,” she breathed, taking the photo of the older man from him. “I thought he looked familiar. This is the guy Ireland’s seeing.”
Gideon’s back stiffened abruptly. “What do you mean?”
“No, wait.” She frowned. “This is an old picture. I didn’t see the date. Or the clothes, for that matter. Crazy resemblance, though. It’s fucking weird.”
Shifting in his seat to better look up at her, he said more firmly, “Go back to what you said about Ireland dating someone.”
Eva dropped the photo on the table and slid the teenager’s mugshot closer. “You should hear her talk about him. Actually, you probably shouldn’t. You wouldn’t like it.”
“When did she first tell you about him?” Angus asked, pulling out a more recent photo and handing it to her.
“ That’s him. His hair’s a lot longer now, though. Longer than yours.” She ran a hand over Gideon’s head. “She told me about him last weekend.”
“Repeat what she said.” Gideon caught his wife’s hand and tugged her onto his lap. “Then tell me why you didn’t say anything to me about it.”
“They met in a bar and went to dinner with his friends. I kept it to myself because you might be a tad overprotective, ace.” She set the picture down.
“I trust my instincts. They led me to you.”
She kissed him. A soft press of her lush lips to his that he’d needed. “I saw them together when we took Lucky to the park. I got a bad feeling from him, to be honest. There’s just something…off. But then, I might be overprotective, too.”
“That’s why we walked so long,” he said reflectively. “You were looking for them.”
Raúl stood and came over, looking at the photographs.
Draping her arms around his neck, Eva gave him a crooked half-smile. “Can’t get anything past you, baby. Yes, I wanted to see them together because she was so excited about him. She’s never talked about anyone else she’s dated in quite the same way. I almost asked Angus to look into him, but it seems you got to it first.”
“Ireland asked me to,” the Scot told her.
“I’ve seen this dude,” Raúl murmured, pulling out his phone and swiping at the screen. “This morning.”
Shouts and catcalls erupted from the speaker as he set the phone down on the tabletop. They all leaned over to watch the video he cued up for them.
“That’s Ireland,” Eva murmured. “Ooooh, good hit.”
Gideon’s initial curiosity was now laser-focused interest as he watched his sister put Ronan McCaffrey Boudreaux through his paces at Parker Smith’s studio. The person who filmed the short video was positioned behind his sister, so Ireland’s face was seen only occasionally in profile. But he knew how she moved her body, just as Eva did.
When Boudreaux caught his sister in an aggressive, possessive kiss that she not only didn’t reject but participated in, Gideon felt an alarming chill settle over him.
“My wife sent me that this morning,” Raúl explained. “It was posted last night. Apparently, it’s romantic to watch a woman kick a man’s ass and then get kissed senseless.”
“Holy shit, it’s got over a quarter million views already!” Eva exclaimed, drawing Gideon’s attention to the rapidly increasing likes count.
Gently urging his wife up from his lap, Gideon stood. His earlier soul-deep fatigue was now replaced by restless energy. He started walking toward the front door.
“Are you going over there?” Eva asked, running up beside him.
He couldn’t decide whether he wanted Boudreaux to be at his sister’s. He wanted a face-to-face but also knew what it meant if the man was there this early in the day.
“Send me a link to that video,” he barked over his shoulder at Raúl. “And find out where he’s staying.” It had better not be with Ireland …
He’d initially planned to advise Christopher on what could be done to secure control of Vidal—and provide capital, if necessary. The situation was now drastically different.
Boudreaux should’ve limited his scope to just the company. But he’d involved Ireland.
So now the man would be dealing with him.
Ireland jolted when her leg vibrated yet again, her phone ringing silently in the thigh holster she wore beneath her formal gown. She’d turned the ringer off but couldn’t turn the phone itself off because she was emceeing the bachelor auction. She needed to know and be prepared if something changed at the last minute.
Reaching into the thigh-high slit of her blue ombre dress, she pulled her phone out, saw Gideon’s face on the screen, and sighed. She sent the call to voicemail and texted instead, as she’d been doing all day.
I’m about to walk on stage
She slid the phone back into place. The thigh holster was meant to be worn athletically, like when running in shorts without pockets, but she’d discovered it worked great for formal events, too. And with a bracelet that hid a lip gloss wand, she could go hands-free at events and not bother with coordinating tiny purses with her dress.
“I can’t believe you’ve gone all day without answering him.” Alina fidgeted while looking stunning in a strapless diaphanous peach dress with petal-like embellishments that fluttered every time she moved. Her rose gold mask had peach-colored feathers and ribbons on one side. “It’s giving me anxiety.”
“Hello? My brother and I are in the same damn ballroom together now! It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him, just that I’d rather do it in person.”
So, she’d been answering his calls with texts. Which she could tell was pissing Gideon off by his tone—at least what tone she could gather from letters strung together into words. Her brother never resorted to using exclamation points to convey his mood, which somehow made his short commands to pick up and answer his calls even more worrying. She hadn’t listened to his voicemails because she was edgy enough already.
Ireland smoothed the front of her silk dress with trembling hands. It was strange how strung out she felt, as if her body was overcaffeinated—or slipping into a state of withdrawal. She realized that this was the longest stretch of time she’d gone without seeing Ronan since they’d met.
How long would it take to feel normal again? To not feel like something vital was missing?
“Why aren’t you nervous?” Alina asked. “I just have to escort the guys on and off, and my palms are sweaty, and I have heart palpitations.”
“When have I ever been nervous onstage? I could run this auction in my sleep now.” It was actually a lot of fun and her favorite part of the Crossroads Foundation’s annual masquerade ball. “And you look blissfully calm when you glide across the stage.”
Peeking through a gap in the stage curtain, she surveyed the Bellingham Hotel’s massive ballroom. The guests were a who’s who of Manhattan society, along with political figures, celebrities, and other billionaires like her brother.
It was great having the event as a distraction, but she dreaded the weekend ahead. She needed to stay too busy to think about Ronan and where he might be, what he might be doing, and who he might be doing it with. She’d made the right decision for herself but had no idea what the impact would be for Vidal.
Was he still willing to let her try to save the company? Was he still planning on helping her do it? If so, perhaps they could design a schedule where she’d be out of the office on the days he commuted, at least until she got over her attraction to him and could be around him without becoming desperate to always be with him.
Or maybe he’d only considered saving Vidal if they were sleeping together, and that offer was no longer on the table. She sighed. Not that it mattered now that Gideon knew. She hoped to convince her brother to let her do what she could without intervention, but she doubted either of her brothers believed she could turn Vidal around with just guts and determination. At least her dad had given her a shot.
She could really use one of Ronan’s hugs right now, not to mention his affirmations that she was fierce, fabulous, dangerous, and powerful. Was she still a tigress when she wasn’t his?
“You’re thinking about him,” Alina noted, studying her. “Ronan, I mean. I can tell because you get this lost, sad look on your face.”
Giving her best friend a skeptical look, Ireland pointed out the obvious. “I’m wearing a mask.”
“They don’t cover up that much, and you know it. Plus, I know you.” She reached over and squeezed Ireland’s hand. “I’m sorry this is hard for you.”
“Yeah, well…” She was sorry, too. For all of it.
The stage manager approached them briskly, pulling down the mic on her headset to say, “We’re ready in five. Are you good to start?”
“Hell yeah.” Ireland rubbed her hands together. “Let’s raise some money!”
Ronan entered the packed ballroom and surveyed the room for Ireland. Gideon Cross and his wife were the first people he spotted because they remained stationary while guests circled and approached them as if they were royalty with an audience of sycophants. And also because he knew what the Crosses looked like even while masked. He couldn’t say the same for the rest of the attendees.