I didn't make it to lunch."
"Who was the appointment?" "It wasn't Corinne."
"That's not an answer!" I turned back to Dr.
Petersen, who calmly returned my phone to me.
"When I went up to his office to ask him what the hell was going on, I discovered him half dressed and freshly showered, with one of his sofas bumped out of place, pillows strewn all over the floor - " "One goddamned pillow!" " - and red lipstick on his shirt."
"There are two dozen businesses in the Crossfire," Gideon said coldly.
"She could have been visiting any one of them."
"Right," I drawled, my voice dripping sarcasm.
"Of course."
"Wouldn't I have taken her to the hotel?" I sucked in a sharp breath, reeling.
"You still have that room?" His mask slipped, revealing a flare of panic.
The realization that he still had his sex pad - a hotel room he used exclusively for f**king and somewhere I'd never go again - hit me like a physical blow, sending a sharp pain through my chest.
A low sound left me, a pained whimper that had me squeezing my eyes shut.
"Let's slow down," Dr.
Petersen interrupted, scribbling rapidly.
"I want to backtrack a bit.
Gideon, why didn't you tell Eva about Corinne?" "I had every intention of doing so," Gideon said tightly.
"He doesn't tell me anything," I whispered, digging for a tissue in my purse so I wouldn't have mascara running down my face.
Why would he keep that room? The only explanation was that he intended to use it with someone other than me.
"What do you talk about?" Dr.
Petersen asked, directing the question at both of us.
"I'm usually apologizing," Gideon muttered.
Dr.
Petersen looked up.
"For what?" "Everything."
He raked a hand through his hair.
"Do you feel that Eva's too demanding or expects too much from you?" I felt Gideon's gaze on my profile.
"No.
She doesn't ask for anything."
"Except the truth," I corrected, turning toward him.