Only fair, I thought, since he was wrapped around my heart.

I was surprised when Gideon accepted the keys to the Bentley SUV from one of the valets. “You drove?

Where’s Angus?”

“Day off.” He nuzzled against my temple. “I missed you, Eva.”

I settled into the front passenger seat, and he shut the door behind me. As I secured my seat belt, I saw him pause by the hood, making eye contact with two men dressed in black who waited beside a sleek black Mercedes sedan at the end of the drive. They nodded and got in the Benz. When Gideon pul ed out of the Vidal driveway, they fol owed directly behind us.

“Security detail?” I asked.

“Yes. I took off fast when I was told you were here, and they lost the tail for a while.”

Cary went home with Clancy, so Gideon and I headed straight to the penthouse. I found myself getting turned on from watching Gideon drive. He handled the luxury vehicle the way he handled everything—confidently, aggressively, and with skil ful control. He drove fast but not recklessly, weaving easily over the curves and straightaways of the scenic route back to the city. There was almost no traffic until we hit the gridlock of Manhattan.

When we arrived at his apartment, we both went straight into the master bathroom and undressed for a shower. As if he couldn’t stop touching me, Gideon washed me from head to toe; then he dried me with a towel and wrapped me in a new robe of embroidered teal silk with kimono sleeves. He finished by pul ing a pair of similarly hued drawstring silk pants out of a drawer for himself.

“Don’t I get panties?” I asked, thinking about my drawer of sexy underwear.

“No. There’s a phone hanging on the wal in the kitchen. Hit speed dial one and tel the man who answers that I want him to pick up double my usual dinner order from Peter Luger.”

“Al right.” I headed out to the living room and made the cal ; then I had to search for Gideon. I found him in his home office, a room I hadn’t been in before.

I didn’t get a good look at the space at first because the only lighting came from an angled picture light on the wal and a barrister’s lamp on his polished wood desk. Plus my eyes were more interested in focusing on him. He looked utterly sensual and compel ing sprawled in his big black leather chair. He held a tulip glass of some liquor that he warmed between his hands and the beauty of his flexing biceps sent tingles racing through me, as did the tight lacing of muscles on his abdomen.

His gaze was on the wal il uminated by the picture light, which snagged my attention, too. I was startled when I saw the art—a huge col age of blown-up photos of him and me: the picture of our kiss on the street outside the gym…a shot of us from the press gauntlet at the advocacy dinner…a candid of the tender aftermath of our fight in Bryant Park…

The focal point was the image in the center that had been taken while I slept in my own bed, lit only by the candle I’d left burning for him. It was an intimate voyeuristic shot, one that said more about the photographer than it did the subject.

I was deeply touched by the proof that he’d been fal ing along with me.

Gideon gestured at the drink he’d poured for me in advance and set on the edge of his desk. “Have a seat.”

I complied, curious. There was an edge to him that was new, a sense of purpose and calm determination paired with laser-precise focus.

What brought on his mood? And what did it mean for the rest of our evening?

Then I saw the smal photo col age frame lying on the desktop next to my drink and my worry faded. The frame was very similar to the one already on my desk, but this one held three photos of Gideon and me together.

“I want you to take that to work,” he said quietly

“Thank you.” For the first time in days, I was happy. I hugged the frame to my chest with one hand, and picked up my glass with the other.

His eyes glittered as he watched me take a seat.

“You blow kisses at me al day from your picture on my desk. I think it’s only fair that you be equal y reminded of me. Of us.”

I exhaled in a rush, my heartbeat not quite steady. “I never forget about you or us.”

“I wouldn’t let you if you tried.” Gideon took a deep drink, his throat working on a swal ow. “I think I’ve figured out where we made our first misstep, the one that’s led to al the stumbles we’ve had since.”

“Oh?”

“Take a drink of your Armagnac, angel. I think you’l need it.”

I took a cautious sip of the liquor, feeling the instantaneous burn, fol owed by recognition that I liked the flavor. I took a bigger drink.

Rol ing his glass between his palms, Gideon took another drink and eyed me thoughtful y. “Tel me which was hotter, Eva: sex in the limo when you were in charge or sex in the hotel when I was?” I shifted restlessly, unsure of where the conversation was leading. “I thought you enjoyed what happened in the limo. While it was happening, I mean. Obviously not later.”

“I loved it,” he said with quiet conviction. “The image of you in that red dress, moaning and tel ing me how good my cock feels inside you, wil haunt me as long as I live. If you’d like to top me again in the future, I’m definitely game.”

My stomach tensed. The muscles in my shoulders began to knot. “Gideon, I’m starting to freak out a little.

Al this talk of safewords and topping…it feels like this conversation is leading somewhere I can’t go.”

“You’re thinking of bondage and pain. I’m talking about a consensual power exchange.” Gideon studied me intently. “Would you like more brandy? You’re very pale.”

“You think?” I set the drained glass down. “It sounds like you’re tel ing me you’re a Dominant.”

“Angel, you knew that already.” His mouth curved in a soft, sexy smile. “What I’m tel ing you is that you’re submissive.”

“Don’t,” he warned in a dark purr. “You’re not running yet. We’re not done.”