One with You

“How would I know that?” she whispered, her eyes so strikingly blue in her pale face.

“You knew,” I said flatly. “I remember your face afterward, when you told me Hugh wasn’t coming back and to never bring it up again. You could barely look at me, but when you did, I saw it in your eyes.”

I looked at Eva. She was crying, with her arms wrapped tight around herself. My eyes stung, but she was the one who wept for me.

“Did you think Chris would leave you?” I wondered aloud. “Did you think it was too much for your new family to take? For years, I thought you told him—I heard you mention Dr. Lucas to him—but Chris didn’t know. Tell me what reason a wife would have to keep something like that from her husband.”

My mother didn’t speak, just shook her head over and over, as if that silent denial answered everything.

My fist hit my desk, rattling everything on top of it. “Say something!”

“You’re wrong. Wrong. It’s all twisted up for you. You don’t…” She shook her head again. “It didn’t happen that way. You’re confused…”

Eva stared at my mother’s back with a visible, heated rage. Loathing tightened her mouth and jaw. It hit me then that I could let her carry that burden for me. I had to put it down. I didn’t need it anymore. Didn’t want it.

I had done the same for her in a different sense, with Nathan. The action I’d taken had chased the shadows from her eyes. They lived in me now, as they should. She’d been haunted by them long enough.

My chest expanded on a deep, slow breath. When I let it out, all the anger and disgust went with it. I stood there for a long moment, absorbing the dizzying lightness I felt. There was grief, a profound anguish that burned in my chest. And resignation. A clarifying, terrible acceptance. But it weighed on me so much less than the desperate hope I’d harbored: that one day my mother would love me enough to accept the truth.

That hope was dead.

I cleared my throat. “Let’s end this. I won’t be going to see Corinne. And I won’t apologize for telling the truth. I’m done with that.”

My mother didn’t move for a long moment.

Then she turned away from me without a word and walked to the door. A moment more and she was gone, lost on the other side of the frosted glass.

I looked at Eva. She started toward me and I went to her, rounding my desk to meet her partway. She hugged me so tightly I could hardly breathe.

But I didn’t need air. I had her.

I hit the controls to opaque the glass. “You don’t get to lecture me about inflicting pain or feeling disappointed, Mother.”

Her head snapped back as if I’d slapped her face. “Don’t take that tone with me.”

“You knew what was done to me. And you did nothing.”

“We’re not talking about this again.” She slashed her hand through the air.

“When have we ever talked about it?” I bit out. “I told you, but at no point were you open to discussing it.”

“Don’t make this my fault!”

“I was raped.”

The words lashed out and hung in the air, sharp as a blade and raw.

My mother jerked back.

Eva reached blindly for the doorjamb and gripped it hard.

Taking a deep breath to regain a modicum of control, I drew strength from my wife’s presence. “I was raped,” I said again, my voice calmer. Steadier. “For close to a year, every week. A man you invited into your home fondled me. Sodomized me. Over and over again.”

“Don’t.” She breathed harshly, her chest heaving. “Don’t say those ugly, awful things.”

“It happened. Repeatedly. While you were only a few rooms away. He’d be nearly panting with excitement when he showed up. He’d stare at me with this sick gleam in his eyes. And you couldn’t see it. Refused to see it.”

“That’s a lie!”

Fury burned through me, made me restless with the need to move. But I held my ground, my gaze moving to Eva. This time, she nodded at me.

“What’s the lie, Mother? That I was raped? Or that you chose to ignore it?”

“Stop saying that!” she snapped, straightening. “I took you to be examined. I tried to find the proof—”

“Because my word wasn’t enough?”

“You were a disturbed child! You lied about everything. Anything. The most obvious things.”

“That gave me some control! I had no power over anything in my life—aside from the words that came out of my mouth.”

“And I was supposed to just magically divine what was truth and what was a lie?” She leaned forward, taking the offensive. “You were seen by two doctors. You wouldn’t let the one anywhere near you—”

“And have another man touch me there? Can you even grasp how terrifying that thought was to me?”

“You let Dr. Lucas—”

“Ah, yes. Dr. Lucas.” I smiled coldly. “Where did you get his name, Mother? From the man molesting me? Or from your doctor, who was overseeing his dissertation? Either way, he steered you right toward his brother-in-law, knowing the well-respected Dr. Lucas would say anything to protect the reputation of his family.”

She recoiled, stumbling back until she bumped into the chair behind her.

“He sedated me,” I went on, remembering it still. The prick of the needle. The cold table. The shame as he poked and prodded a part of my body that made me tremble with revulsion. “He examined me. Then he lied.”

What would they think if they knew that deep inside her, she was still creamy with my cum? That her nipples were tender from the suction of my mouth and the plump lips of her perfect little cunt were swollen from the friction of my cock sliding through them?

“Ms. Johnson.” I set my phone aside and settled into my chair before she sat down. “I don’t have much time.”

Her mouth tightened. She tossed her purse onto the nearest chair and remained standing. “You promised me an exclusive on your wedding photos!”

“I did, yes.” And since I remembered what I’d extracted from her in exchange, I hit the control that closed my office door.

She set her hands on my desk and leaned over it. “I gave you all the information about that sex tape of Eva and Brett Kline. I held up my end of the deal.”

“While you convinced Corinne to give you what you needed to write a book about me.”

Something passed through her eyes.

“Did you think I was bluffing during the interview?” I asked evenly, leaning back and tapping my fingertips together. “That I didn’t know the ghostwriter is you?”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with the deal we made!”

“Doesn’t it?”

Deanna pushed away from the desk in a violent explosion of movement. “God, you smug son of a bitch. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself.”

“So you’ve said. Which raises the question—why would you trust me to follow through?”

“Total stupidity. I thought you were actually sincere when you apologized.”

“I was sincere. I’m very sorry I fucked you.”

Fury and embarrassment colored her face. “I hate you,” she hissed.

“I’m aware. You’re certainly free to do so, but I suggest you think twice before pursuing a vendetta against me or my wife.” I stood. “You’re going to walk out the door and I’ll forget you exist—again. You don’t want me thinking about you, Deanna. You won’t like the direction my thoughts would take.”

“I could’ve made a fortune with that sex tape!” she accused. “And they were going to pay me good money to write that book. Your wedding photos would’ve made me a mint. Now, what have I got? You’ve taken everything away from me. You fucking owe me.”

I arched a brow. “They don’t want you to write the book anymore? How interesting.”

She straightened, visibly pulling herself together. “Corinne didn’t know. About us.”

“Let’s be clear. There was no us.” My smartphone chimed with a text from Raúl, letting me know that he was nearly at the Crossfire with Eva. I moved to the coatrack. “You wanted to fuck and I fucked you. If you wanted me, well … I’m not responsible for your exaggerated expectations.”

“You don’t take responsibility for anything! You just use people.”

“You used me, too. To get laid. To try to pad your bank account.” I shrugged into my jacket. “As for what I owe you for your financial losses, my wife suggested I offer you a job.”

Her dark eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“That was my response, too.” I retrieved my smartphone and slid it into my pocket. “But she was quite serious, so I’ve made the offer.

“Really?” Her eyes got big and she did a little hop. “Are you giving a speech?”

Amused, I said, “That’s usually expected, yes.”

“Yay!” She jumped and clapped like a cheerleader. “I love hearing you speak.”

For once, I thought I might even like doing it, considering that just the thought put a fuck-me gleam in her eyes.

“And I can’t wait to see Ireland,” she said. “Is it black tie?”

“Yes.”

“Double yay! You in a tux, giving a speech.” She rubbed her hands together.

Chris laughed. “Clearly, your wife is your biggest fan.”

She winked at him. “You better believe it.”

I entered the foyer of the penthouse to the sounds of both Nina Simone and Lucky, feeling good. The puppy barked from the other side of the front door, his claws scratching madly. Smiling despite myself, I turned the knob and crouched, catching the little wriggling body as he launched himself through the opening.

“Heard me coming, did you?” Standing, I cradled him against my chest and let him lick my jaw as I rubbed his back.

“Depends on who’s talking.”

His eyes were warm and compassionate. “You stopped talking when your mother stopped listening.”

My smile faded.

“It’s said that actions speak louder than words,” he went on, “but we still need words. We need to speak and we need to be heard.”

I stared at him, my pulse inexplicably speeding up.

“Your wife is listening to you, Gideon. She believes you.” He leaned forward. “I’m listening and I believe you. So you’re talking again and getting a different response from the one you’ve conditioned yourself to expect. It opens things up, doesn’t it?”

“Opens me up, you mean.”

He nodded. “It does. To love and acceptance. To friendship. Trust. A whole new world, really.”

Reaching up, I rubbed the back of my neck. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“More laughter is a good start.” Dr. Petersen sat back with a smile and picked up his tablet again. “We’ll figure out the rest.”

I laughed out loud, startled by a sudden rush of joy.

Dr. Petersen’s brows rose, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ve never heard you laugh like that before.”

Eva sat on her side of the bed, then leaned over the edge to help Lucky, who tried to scramble up and couldn’t quite make it. A moment later, he was on my chest, whining in protest as I held him off from slathering saliva all over my jaw. “Hey, I get it. I like you, too, but I don’t lick your face.”

He barked at that. Eva laughed and lay down on her pillow.

I could tell she was happy about the interview. The way she’d tackled me when I came home had been a good indication. She was also talking fast and hopping around all over the place. Which, come to think of it, wasn’t too different from Lucky, who was darting under the bed and rolling out again, yipping happily.