A shiver moved through me, because I believed him. It was in his face. His voice. In the energy he exuded and his sharply honed focus. He wasn’t just dark and dangerous in his looks. Gideon was a man who got what he wanted, whatever it took.

I pushed to my feet. “He’s not worth the effort. Not worth your time.”

“You are. You’re worth it. Damn it. Goddamn it to hel .”

I moved closer to the fireplace, needing the warmth.

“There’s also a money trail. Cops and reporters always fol ow the money. Someone may wonder why my mother left her first marriage with two mil ion dol ars, but her daughter from a previous relationship left with five.”

Without looking, I felt his sudden stil ness. “Of course,” I went on, “that blood money’s probably grown to considerably more than that now. I won’t touch it, but Stanton manages the brokerage account I dumped it in and everyone knows he has the Midas touch. If you ever had any concern that I wanted your money—”

“Stop talking.”

I turned to face him. I saw his face, his eyes. Saw the pity and horror. But it was what I didn’t see that hurt the most.

It was my greatest nightmare realized. I’d feared that my past might negatively impact his attraction to me.

I’d told Cary that Gideon might stay with me for al the wrong reasons. That he might stay by my side, but that I’d stil —for al intents and purposes—lose him anyway.

And it seemed I had.

“What?” Gideon glared. “Go where?”