32. Gideon
32
Gideon
I scan the quarterly projections on my screen in my downtown office, preparing for tomorrow’s board meeting when my phone buzzes. Ava’s name appears on the screen. Unusual for her to call in the middle of the day.
“Ava,” I answer, but there’s no immediate response.
Instead, I hear Ava’s voice, distant as if she’s not speaking directly into the phone. “Burt. Where’s the paperwork you wanted to drop off for Gideon?”
Something in her tone raises my hackles. I listen more carefully, realizing she must have called me deliberately without announcing herself.
“About that... I’m not actually here to deliver paperwork, Mrs. King.” Burt’s voice sounds different than his professional boardroom tone. Colder. “I think we need to have a conversation about your extracurricular activities.”
What the actual fuck?
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Ava’s voice remains steady, but I detect a slight tremor .
“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit someone of your talents.” There’s a threatening pause. “Your little investigation into my communications. Very thorough for an art student.”
My blood runs cold as understanding clicks into place. Burt knows Ava’s been investigating him. But why would she be investigating him at all?
“I was just familiarizing myself with the company systems,” Ava says smoothly. “Since I’m a trustee now.”
A harsh laugh from Burt. “Is that why you took screenshots of my private communications? Why you’ve been compiling evidence against me? You think Gideon will believe your amateur detective work over my years of loyalty?”
My fingers tighten around the phone. She found something on Burt. Something serious enough that he’s confronting her alone in our home.
I quickly pull up the security app on my laptop, activating the penthouse cameras. The feed shows Burt standing too close to Ava in the living room, backing her against the wall. Her expression is defiant despite her physical retreat.
I’m already on my feet, grabbing my suit jacket from the back of my chair as I send an emergency alert to building security. “Sebastian, car now,” I bark into my office intercom, not waiting for a response.
I continue listening on my phone as I stride through the executive floor, ignoring startled looks from staff.
“You should have minded your own business, Mrs. King.” Burt’s voice drops lower. “Blackwell would have preferred you remained ignorant. Now we have a problem.”
Blackwell. The name ignites something primal in my chest. Burt is working with Blackwell. And Ava discovered it.
“What do you want, Burt?” Ava asks, her voice remarkably composed despite the situation.
“Simple. Delete everything you’ve collected. Tell me exactly who you’ve shared this information with. Then perhaps we can forget this unfortunate situation.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Your position in Gideon’s life is temporary at best. We both know that. A convenient arrangement that will end when it’s served its purpose. How tragic would it be if something accelerated that timeline?”
That fucking bastard is threatening my wife.
The elevator doors slide open and I step inside, jabbing the button for the garage level. Fifteen fucking minutes across town stands between me and Ava. Too long.
I send a text to Ray Donovan, my head of security: “Burt Lee threatening Ava in penthouse. Building security alerted. Detain immediately. Evidence of corporate espionage with Blackwell. ETA 15 minutes.”
“You’re making a serious mistake,” Ava’s voice is steel now. “Gideon will—”
“Gideon will what? Believe the woman he married for convenience over the executive who’s been by his side for years? You overestimate your position, Mrs. King.”
Sebastian already has the car waiting when I reach the garage. I slide into the back seat, my phone still pressed to my ear.
“Get me home now,” I tell him, not bothering to hide the urgency in my voice.
Sebastian meets my eyes in the rearview mirror, instantly understanding. “Yes, sir.”
The car peels out of the garage, tires squealing against concrete.
“You need to leave now,” Ava says firmly through the phone.
“Not until you delete those files and tell me exactly what you’ve shared with Gideon.”
“I’m not deleting anything.”
“Then I’ll have to insist more forcefully.”
Sebastian navigates through traffic with terrifying precision, weaving between cars and running yellow lights. Under normal circumstances, I’d appreciate his skill. Now, all I can think is that he’s not moving fast enough.
Goddamn Manhattan traffic.
“Go through the red lights when feasible,” I order.
Sebastian nods. We speed through an intersection and are nearly T-boned.
I don’t give a fuck. Go faster.
I check the security feed again. Burt has moved closer to Ava. I can see Ray and the security team already inside my private elevator on a separate camera.
“You need to leave now,” Ava says firmly.
“Not until you delete those files and tell me exactly what you’ve shared with Gideon.”
“I’m not deleting anything.”
“Then I’ll have to insist more forcefully. Bitch. Wait, is your phone—”
The sound of security storming into the room cuts off whatever Burt was about to say next.
Goodbye, you fucker .
“Mr. Lee,” Ray’s voice is professionally cold. “Step away from Mrs. King immediately.”
A few tense moments pass. Then Ray’s voice comes loud and clear over the phone line. “The HVT is secure, sir. Aggressor in custody.”
“Well done,” I say, exhaling a sigh of relief.
“Would you like to talk to your wife?” he asks.
I don’t trust myself, not in my current state. “Is she all right?”
“Yes, as far as I can tell. Physically, at least.”
“That’s all I need for now. Call me if anything changes.” I hang up, and lean back. My hands are still shaking.
We finally arrive at the building. The car barely stops before I’m out, striding through the lobby toward the private elevator. Ray and two security personnel are waiting for me.
“The situation is under control, sir,” Ray says.
I nod. We take the elevator and reach the penthouse suite. When the doors open, Ray gestures toward the interior. “Lee is detained in the living room.”
My expression hardens as I move ahead of him.
I enter the room, heart still hammering with rage and fear, to find the situation under control. Michael, the former Marine I specifically assigned to Ava’s detail for his calm demeanor, stands like a stone sentinel beside Burt. His hand rests casually near his holster, his eyes never leaving Burt’s face. The message is clear. Try something. I fucking dare you.
Burt’s expression shifts from confusion to alarm when he spots me. The color drains from his face.
Across the room, Ava stands with her arms crossed, chin raised in defiance. Diana, the other half of Ava’s security detail, is positioned slightly in front of her. Even from here, I can see the slight tremor in Ava’s hands that betrays her outward composure. That small sign of vulnerability fuels my fury.
Two building security personnel hover nearby, maintaining a professional distance while clearly awaiting my instructions. The scene strikes me as surreal. This carefully orchestrated protective formation in the middle of our living room, centered around my wife. My fake wife who just risked herself to protect my company.
“What is the meaning of this?” Burt demands, attempting to regain his composure.
I cross the room in three strides, stopping inches from his face. “You threatened my wife in our home while working with Mark fucking Blackwell. That’s the meaning.”
His face pales. “Gideon, I can explain. This is a misunderstanding—”
“I heard every word,” I cut him off. My voice is dangerously quiet. “Every. Fucking. Word.”
The careful control I’ve maintained throughout my career, the measured responses, the strategic thinking, the emotional distance, threatens to shatter. My hands curl into fists at my sides, knuckles whitening with the effort of not grabbing him by the throat. I haven’t felt this level of rage since discovering Celeste’s betrayal.
“Take him to the security office,” I tell Michael, forcing myself to step back. “Full detainment protocol. Contact Ella to prepare legal action for corporate espionage, breach of contract, and threatening a company officer.”
Michael nods, professional and efficient, moving to escort Burt toward the door. Ray joins him, grabbing his other arm, and Burt struggles against their firm grip, his corporate mask slipping further.
“You’re making a mistake,” he hisses. “She’s manipulating you. Just like Celeste did.”
The mention of Celeste nearly breaks my control. I step forward again, my voice dropping to a whisper only he can hear. “If you ever come near my wife again, legal action will be the least of your concerns.”
Flanked by the building guards, my security team escorts Burt out, leaving Ava and I alone.
The room feels suddenly too quiet, the space between us charged with unspoken emotion.
I turn to Ava, scanning her for any sign of harm. Her face is flushed, her eyes bright with adrenaline, but she appears physically unharmed. Something in my chest tightens at the sight of her standing there, defiant despite the danger.
“Are you all right?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice even.
She nods, her shoulders finally relaxing. “I’m fine. He didn’t touch me. I used the silent alarm app Diana showed me how to install. One tap and it calls you without ringing on my end.”
I nod. That was part of security protocol. Ordinarily it would have been configured to call Diana when tapped. I wonder why Ava set it up to call me, instead? “When did you discover Burt was working with Blackwell?”
“Yesterday. I overheard him on the phone when he was here, then found emails confirming he’s been feeding information to Blackwell for months. He knew about my investigation and threatened me, but I wanted more evidence before telling you.”
My anger surges again. “You should have come to me immediately.”
“I needed to be sure.”
“You needed to be safe,” I snap, running a hand through my hair. “Do you have any idea how fucking dangerous that was? Blackwell has destroyed people for less. And you decided to play detective instead of telling me?”
Her eyes flash. “I wasn’t playing anything. I found actual evidence while you were busy treating Burt like a trusted confidant. Sorry for trying to protect your company.”
“Protect my...” I pace across the living room, struggling to contain my fury. Not at her, but at Burt, at Blackwell, at the situation. “This isn’t about the company. This is about you putting yourself at risk.”
“I can handle myself.”
“Clearly. That’s why Burt cornered you in our home.”
“I handled that, too.” She gestures to her phone. “And did you hear what Burt said? ‘A convenient arrangement that will end when it’s served its purpose.’ Blackwell knows our marriage is fake.”
“He might suspect, but he doesn’t know for sure,” I tell her.
She frowns. “Well, either way, I got him to incriminate himself while you listened. You’re welcome, by the way.”
I stop pacing and look at her. Really look at her. Instead of finding her shaken or scared, she’s vibrant with defiance. Her laptop displays organized folders of evidence against Burt. She hasn’t been cowering. She’s been planning her next move.
Something shifts in my chest. Something dangerous and warm.
“You could have been hurt,” I say more quietly.
“But I wasn’t.”
“That’s not the point. ”
“Then what is the point, Gideon?” She stands, facing me directly. “That I should have stayed in my lane? That investigating business matters isn’t in my job description as your fake wife?”
“The point is that I—” I cut myself off, the words I almost said hanging in the air between us.
Her eyes widen slightly. “You what?”
I turn away, trying to regain control. “The point is that Blackwell is dangerous. Burt was feeding him information about our business, our marriage, our fucking lives. And instead of telling me, you decided to handle it alone.”
“Because I wanted to help you,” she says, her voice softening. “Because I care about what happens to you and your company.”
The admission hangs between us, heavy with implications neither of us is ready to voice.
“This goes beyond our agreement,” I finally say.
We stand in silence, the unspoken truth of our evolving relationship filling the space between us.
“What happens now?” she asks.
“Now I deal with Burt and the fallout. We need to identify everything he shared with Blackwell and mitigate the damage.”
“I’ve already started compiling that information,” she says, gesturing to her laptop. “I can show you.”
I move closer, standing beside her as she opens her evidence files. Her shoulder brushes against my arm, and I feel her warmth through my shirt. I feel... hunger. Need. Desire.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For protecting what’s mine.”
Our eyes meet, and something unspoken passes between us. Something that makes my chest tight and my control fragile. I’m at the edge again. One small misstep, that's all it will take...
“I need to go to my Brooklyn studio,” she says suddenly. “To clear my head. To process all this. Everything is on the laptop.”
The thought of her leaving now, after everything that just happened, triggers something primal in me. Before I can analyze the impulse or talk myself out of it, I catch her wrist.
“No,” I say, my voice rough.
She turns back, surprise flickering across her face. “Gideon, I need some space to—”
“Don’t you fucking move,” I tell her.
She wrenches free of my grip. “I’m not one of your servants. You don’t own me.”
She starts heading for the elevator.
I close the distance between us in one stride, blocking her path.
“No, I don’t,” I tell her before I can stop myself. “You own me.”
My hand slides to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, and I crush my lips against hers.
She freezes for a heartbeat, just long enough for me to begin doubting myself, before she melts against me with a soft sound that unravels the last of my control. Her hands grip my dress shirt, pulling me closer as I back her against the wall.
The kiss is nothing like our carefully choreographed public displays of affection. It’s more like the kiss we shared in my office, after those weeks of denial, but this time it’s sheer rawness, it’s desperation, is fueled by the residual fear of almost losing her and the relief of finding her safe. I taste her gasp when my teeth catch her lower lip, feel the tremor that runs through her body when my hand grips her hip.
“I couldn’t fucking stand it,” I murmur against her mouth, the words escaping before I can stop them. “Hearing him threaten you. Knowing I couldn’t get to you fast enough.”
Her pupils are dilated, cheeks flushed as she looks up at me. “But you did. You came.”
“I will always come for you,” I say, the fervent promise slipping out before I can consider its implications.
A small noise escapes her throat as she pulls me down for another kiss, her body arching against mine. I lift her, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist as I press her more firmly against the wall.