“Good.” She paused. “I love you.”
“I know, Mom. I love you, too.”
We hung up and I stared down at the phone.
How was our family going to move forward from here?
I sent a quick text to Gideon, letting him know I’d have to take a rain check on lunch. I needed to get my relationship with my mom back on track.
Knowing I needed more coffee to tackle the day ahead, I set off to fill up.
I left my desk exactly at noon and headed down to the lobby. As the hours passed, I grew more and more excited about getting away with Gideon. Away from Corinne, and Deanna, and Brett.
I’d just passed through the security turnstiles when I saw him.
Jean-Fran?ois Giroux stood at the security desk, looking distinctly European and very attractive. His wavy dark hair was longer than it had been in the pictures I’d seen of him, his face less tan and his mouth harder, framed by a goatee. The pale green of his eyes was even more striking in person, even though they were red with weariness. From the small carry-on at his feet, I suspected he’d come straight to the Crossfire from the airport.
“Mon Dieu. How slow are the elevators in this building?” he asked the security guard in a clipped French accent. “It’s impossible that it should take twenty minutes to come down from the top.”
“Mr. Cross is on his way,” the guard replied staunchly, remaining in his chair.
As if he sensed my gaze, Giroux’s head swiveled toward me and his gaze narrowed. He pushed away from the counter, striding toward me. The cut of his suit was tighter than Gideon’s, narrower at the waist and calves. The impression I got of him was too neat and rigid, a man who assumed power by enforcing rules.
“Eva Tramell?” he asked, startling me with his recognition.
“Mr. Giroux.” I offered my hand.
He took it, then surprised me by leaning in and kissing both of my cheeks. Perfunctory, absentminded kisses, but that wasn’t the point. Even for a Frenchman, it was a familiar gesture from someone who was a total stranger to me.
When he stepped back, I looked at him with raised brows.
“Would you have time to speak with me?” he asked, still holding my hand.
“I’m afraid not today.” I tugged away gently. Anonymity was created just by being in a massive space crowded with people rushing to and fro, but with Deanna lurking around, I couldn’t be too careful about who I was seen with. “I have a lunch date and then I’m leaving directly after work.”
“Tomorrow, perhaps?”
“I’ll be out of town this weekend. Monday would be the earliest.”
“Out of town. With Cross?”
My head canted to the side as I examined him, trying to read him. “That’s really none of your business, but yes.”
I told the truth so he’d know that Gideon had a woman in his life who wasn’t Corinne.
“Does it not bother you,” he said, his tone noticeably cooling, “that he used my wife to make you jealous and bring you back to him?”
“Gideon wants to be friends with Corinne. Friends spend time together.”
“You’re blond, but surely you can’t be so na?ve as to believe that.”
“You’re stressed,” I countered, “but surely you know you’re being an ass.”
I registered Gideon’s presence before I felt his hand on my arm.
“You’ll apologize, Giroux,” he interjected with dangerous softness. “And do so sincerely.”
Giroux shot him a look so filled with anger and loathing, it made me shift restlessly on my feet. “Making me wait is classless, Cross, even for you.”