I faced him again, stepping on stuff that had fallen out of my purse, which only made me madder. “Waters Field and Leaman isn’t in competition with Cross Industries! You use the agency’s services yourself.”
“Do you think you’ll never work on a campaign for one of my competitors?”
Standing there in his unbuttoned vest and impeccable tie, he was making it hard for me to think properly. He was beautiful and passionate and everything I’d ever wanted, which made it nearly impossible for me to deny him anything.
“That’s not the point. I won’t be happy, Gideon,” I said with quiet honesty.
“Come here.” He held his arms open for me and hugged me when I walked into them. He spoke with his lips against my temple. “One day, the ‘Cross’ in Cross Industries won’t refer to just me.”
My anger and frustration simmered. “Can we not talk about this now?”
“One last thing: You can apply for a position just like anyone else, if that’s the way you need to do it. I won’t interfere. If you get the job, you’d be working on a different floor of the Crossfire and climbing the career ladder all on your own. Whether you advance won’t be up to me.”
“It’s important to you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Of course it is. We’re working hard to build a future together. This is a natural step in that direction.”
I nodded reluctantly. “I have to be independent.”
His hand cupped my nape, holding me close. “Don’t forget what matters most. If you work hard and show skill and talent, that’s what people will base their judgments on.”
“I have to get ready for work.”
Gideon searched my face, then kissed me softly.
He released me and I bent down to pick up my purse. Then I noticed that I’d stepped on my mirrored compact and shattered its case. I wasn’t heartbroken over it, because I could always pick up another at Sephora on the way home. What froze my blood was the electrical wire sticking out of the cracked plastic.
Gideon crouched down to help me. I looked at him. “What is this?”
He took the compact from me and broke off more of the shell to expose a microchip with a small antenna. “A bug, maybe. Or a tracking device.”
I looked at him with horror. My lips moved silently. The police?
“I’ve got jammers in the apartment,” he answered, shocking me further. “And no. There’s no way any judge would’ve authorized a tap on you. There’s nothing to justify it.”
“Jesus.” I fell back on my ass, feeling sick.
“I’ll have my guys look at it.” He lowered to his knees and brushed the hair back from my face. “Could it be your mother?”
I stared at him helplessly.
“Eva—”
“My God, Gideon.” I held him off with an uplifted hand and grabbed my phone with the other. I dialed Clancy, my stepfather’s bodyguard, and the moment he answered, I said, “Is the bug in my compact one of yours?”
There was a pause, then, “Tracking device, not a bug. Yes.”
“For fuck’s sake, Clancy!”
“It’s my job.”
“Your job sucks,” I shot back, picturing him in my head. Clancy was solid muscle. He wore his dirty-blond hair in a military crew cut and radiated a vibe that was deadly dangerous. But I wasn’t afraid of him. “This is bullshit and you know it.”
“Keeping you safe became a bigger concern when Nathan Barker showed up again. He was slippery, so I had to cover both of you. The minute his death was confirmed, I turned off the receiver.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “This isn’t about the damn tracker! I don’t have a problem with that. It’s the keeping-me-in-the-dark part that’s wrong on so many levels. I feel violated, Clancy.”
“I don’t blame you, but Mrs. Stanton didn’t want you to worry.”
“I’m an adult! I get to decide if I worry or not.” I shot a look at Gideon when I said that, because what I was saying was totally applicable to him, too.
His arch look told me he got the message.
“You won’t hear me arguing,” Clancy said gruffly.
“You owe me,” I told him, knowing just how I was going to collect. “Big-time.”
“You know where to find me.”