Captivated by You (Crossfire#4) (37 page)

threat.

“I’ve got wedding stuff tomorrow, but I’ll think about it,” she said. “Hang on.”

I heard the car door open and Eva greet her doorman. She said hi to her concierge, and then I heard

the ding of an arriving elevator in her lobby.

“You know”—she sighed—“I’m putting on a brave face for Cary, but I’m worried about what’s

going to happen with Trey. If he walks out, I think Cary just might totally self-destruct.”

“He’s asking a lot,” I warned her, hearing another ding from the elevator. “Cary’s basically telling this guy that he’s got a pregnant sidepiece that he intends to hang on to. No, scratch that. He’s saying that Trey is going to be the sidepiece. I can’t see that going over well with anyone.”

“I know.”

“I’ll have my phone on me all night. Call me if you need me.”

“I always need you. I’m home, so I have to go. See you later. I love you.”

Would those words always hit me hard enough to steal my breath?

We hung up just as a familiar figure rounded the corner leading to my office. I stood as Mark

Garrity reached my open doorway, and I met him halfway with my hand extended.

“Mark, thank you for making time for me.”

He smiled and shook my hand in a strong grip. “I’m the one feeling thankful, Mr. Cross. There are a

large number of people in this city—in the world, actually—who’d kill to be where I am right now.”

“Call me Gideon, please.” I gestured toward the seating area. “How’s Steven?”

“He’s doing great, thank you. I’m beginning to think he missed a calling as a wedding planner.”

I smiled. “Eva’s about to dig into that this weekend.”

Unbuttoning his suit jacket, Mark tugged up the legs of his slacks and sat on the sofa. His gray suit contrasted well with his dark skin and striped tie, pulling together the appearance of an urban

professional on the rise.

“If she has half as much fun with it as Steven,” he said, “she’ll have the time of her life.”

“Let’s hope she doesn’t have too much fun,” I drawled, remaining on my feet. “I’d like to get past

the planning and into the actual wedding.”

Mark laughed.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay. I’ll make this quick.” I took a seat. “I asked you to meet me after work, because it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to offer you a position with Cross Industries while you’re on Waters Field and Leaman’s time.”

His brows shot up.

I let that sink in for a second or two. “Cross Industries has a number of diverse international

holdings, with a concentration on real estate, entertainment, and premium brands—or assets we

believe we can elevate to that status.”

“Like Kingsman Vodka.”

“Precisely. For the most part, advertising and marketing campaigns are managed on the ground

level, but brand overhauls or adjustments to messaging are approved here. Due to the diversity I

mentioned, we’re always reviewing new strategies for rebranding or strengthening an established

brand. We could use you.”

“Wow.” Mark rubbed his palms over his knees. “I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this has

caught me off guard.”

“I’ll pay you twice what you’re making, to start.”

“That’s a hell of an offer.”

“I’m not a man who likes the word
no
.”

His grin flashed. “I doubt you hear it very often. I guess this means Eva is leaving Waters Field and Leaman?”

“She hasn’t made that decision yet.”

“No?” His brows shot up again. “If I leave, she’ll lose her job.”

“And gain another one here, of course.” I kept my replies as brief and unrevealing as possible. I

wanted his cooperation, not questions he might not like the answers to.

“Is she waiting for me to agree before she takes any steps?”

“Your decision will be a catalyst.”

Mark ran a hand over his tie. “I’m both flattered and excited, but—”

“I understand it’s not a move you were planning on making,” I interjected smoothly. “You’re happy

where you’re at, and feel a measure of job security. So I’m prepared to guarantee you the position—

and reasonable bonuses and annual raises—for the next three years, barring any misconduct on your

part.”

Leaning forward, I set my fingers on the folder that Scott had left atop the table. I pushed it toward Mark. “All the information is laid out in detail in this. Take it home with you, discuss it with Steven, and let me know your decision on Monday.”

“Monday?”

I stood. “I expect you’ll want to give Waters Field and Leaman ample notice and I don’t have a

problem with that, but I’ll need to have your commitment as soon as possible.”

He picked up the folder and rose to his feet. “What if I have questions?”

“Call me. My card is in the folder.” I glanced at the watch on my wrist. “I’m sorry. I have another

appointment.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Mark accepted my extended hand. “I’m sorry. This happened so fast I feel

like I haven’t quite processed it all yet. I understand you’ve offered me a fantastic opportunity,

though, and I appreciate that.”

“You’re good at what you do,” I told him honestly. “I wouldn’t make the offer if you weren’t worth

it. Think about it, then say yes.”

He laughed. “I’ll give it some serious thought and you’ll hear from me on Monday.”

As he left, my head turned toward the building that housed LanCorp’s headquarters. Landon

wouldn’t find me with my back turned again.

“SHE started crying the minute you walked out.”

I looked at Arnoldo over the rim of my tumbler, which held two fingers of scotch. I swallowed,

then asked, “Do you want me to feel guilty about that?”

“No. I wouldn’t feel sorry for her, either. But I thought you should know that Corinne isn’t

completely heartless.”

“I never thought she was. I just thought she’d given that heart to her husband.”

Arnoldo lifted one shoulder in a shrug. Dressed in well-worn jeans and a tucked-in white dress

shirt that was open at the collar and rolled up at the cuffs, he was drawing a lot of female attention.

The bar was packed, but our section of the VIP balcony was guarded well, keeping the rest of the

patrons at bay. Arnoldo sat on the crescent-shaped sofa where Cary had sat the first night I’d met with Eva outside the Crossfire. The place would always hold strong memories because of her. It was that

night when I realized she was changing everything.

“You look tired,” Arnoldo said.

“It’s been one of those weeks.” I caught his look. “No, it’s not Eva.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nothing to say, really. I should’ve been smarter. I let the world see how much she means to me.”

“Passionate kisses on the street, even more passionate fights in the park.” He smiled ruefully.

“What is it they say? Wearing your heart on your sleeve?”

“I opened the door, now everyone wants to walk through it. She’s the most direct way to fuck with

my head, and everyone knows it.”

“Including Brett Kline?”

“He’s not an issue any longer.”

Arnoldo studied me and must have seen whatever he needed to. He nodded. “I’m glad, my friend.”

“So am I.” I took another drink. “What’s new with you?”

He waved off the question with a careless sweep of his hand, his gaze sliding around us to take in

the women nearby who were swaying to the music of Lana Del Rey. “The restaurant is doing well, as

you know.”

“Yes, I’m very pleased. Exceeded profit projections in every way.”

“We just filmed some promotional teasers for the new season earlier this week. Once the Food

Network starts airing them and the new episodes, we should see a nice boost in business.”

“I can always say I knew you when.”

He laughed and clinked his glass to mine when I held it up in a toast.

We were back on track, which settled some of the unrest I’d been feeling. I didn’t lean on Arnoldo

the way Eva leaned on her friends or Cary leaned on her, but Arnoldo was important to me all the

same. I didn’t have many people in my life who were close to me. Finding the rhythm he and I had

lost was at least one major victory in a week that had seemed like a losing battle.

1 8

“OH MY GOD,” I moaned around a bite of chocolate toffee cupcake, “this is divine.”

Kristin, the wedding planner, beamed. “It’s one of my favorites, too. Hold on, though. The butter

vanilla is even better.”

“Vanilla over chocolate?” My gaze slid over the yummies on the coffee table. “No way.”

“I would usually agree,” Kristin said, making a note, “but this bakery made me a convert. The

lemon is also very good.”

The early-afternoon light poured in through the massive windows that made up one side of my

mother’s private sitting room, illuminating her pale gold curls and porcelain skin. She’d redecorated recently, opting for soft gray-blue walls that lent a new energy to the space—and complemented her

well.

It was one of her talents, showcasing herself in the best light. It was also one of her major flaws, in my opinion. She cared so damn much about appearances.

I didn’t understand how my mom could not get bored with decorating to the latest trends, even if it

did seem to take over a year to cycle through every room and hallway in Stanton’s six-thousand-plus-

square-foot penthouse.

My one meeting with Blaire Ash had been enough to tell me that the decorating gene had skipped

my generation. I’d been interested in his ideas but couldn’t get worked up over the details.

While I popped another mini cupcake into my mouth with my fingers, my mother daintily speared

one of the coin-sized cakes with a fork.

“What are your floral arrangement preferences?” Kristin asked, uncrossing and recrossing long,

coffee-hued legs. Her Jimmy Choo heels were elegant but still sexy; her Diane von Furstenberg wrap

dress was vintage and classic. She wore her shoulder-length dark hair in tight curls that framed and flattered her narrow face, and pale pink gloss highlighted full, wide lips.

She looked fierce and fabulous, and I’d liked her the moment we met.

“Red,” I said, wiping frosting from the corner of my mouth. “Anything red.”

“Red?” My mother gave an emphatic shake of her head. “How garish, Eva. It’s your first wedding.

Go with white, cream, and gold.”

I stared at her. “How many weddings do you expect me to have?”

“That’s not what I meant. You’re a first-time bride.”

“I’m not talking about wearing a red dress,” I argued. “I’m just saying the primary accent color

should be red.”

“I don’t see how that will work, honey. And I’ve put together enough weddings to know.”

I remembered my mother going through the wedding planning process before, each successive

nuptial more elaborate and memorable than the last. Never overdone and always tasteful. Beautiful

weddings for a youthful, beautiful bride. I hoped I aged with half as much grace, because Gideon was only going to get hotter as time went on. He was just that kind of man.

“Let me show you what red can look like, Monica,” Kristin said, pulling a leather portfolio out of

her bag. “Red can be amazing, especially with evening weddings. The important thing is that the

ceremony and reception represent both the bride and groom. To have a truly memorable day, it’s

important that we visually convey their style, history, and hopes for the future.”

My mother accepted the extended portfolio and glanced at the collage of photos on the page. “Eva

… you can’t be serious.”

I shot a look of appreciation at Kristin for having my back, especially when she’d come on board

expecting my mother to be footing the bill. Of course, the fact that I was marrying Gideon Cross

probably helped sway her to my side. Using him as a future reference would certainly help her draw

new clientele.

“I’m sure there’s a compromise, Mom.” At least I hoped so. I hadn’t dropped the biggest bomb on

her yet.

“Do we have an idea of the budget?” Kristin asked.

And there it was …

I saw my mom’s mouth open in slow motion and my heart lurched into a semipanicked beat. “Fifty

thousand for the ceremony itself,” I blurted out. “Minus the cost of the dress.”

Both women turned wide eyes toward me.

My mom gave an incredulous laugh, her hand lifting to touch the Cartier trinity necklace that hung

between her breasts. “My God, Eva. What a time to make jokes!”

“Dad’s paying for the wedding, Mom,” I told her, my voice strengthening now that the moment I’d

dreaded had passed.

She blinked at me, her blue eyes revealing—just for an instant—a sweet softening. Then her jaw

tightened. “Your dress alone will cost more than that. The flowers, the venue …”