Page 30 of Ruthless
He leaned forward in his chair, locking his gaze with hers. If there was anything in his ramblings that he wanted her to understand, it was this. “You changed the trajectory of my life, Eve. Not only did I feel as though I’d let you down, but it was also my way of saying thank you.”
“How did you let me down?”
“If things had worked out the way I’d planned, I would have been the one protecting you that day.”
“You might have been killed, like Herbert and Francois were.”
“Possibly.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you were able to infiltrate an ongoing operation like that.”
“Your father has quite a bit of clout. And he was getting desperate. He was willing to try anything. He got me in to see the head of the rescue operation. My credentials and his influence paved my way.”
She looked away from him and murmured, “I barely remember anything.”
He was glad of that, but he knew a lot of her memory lapse had to do with her refusal to dwell on the event after the fact. Some would call it denial, but he was of the opinion that if denial helped you cope, then that’s what you should do. He knew she still suffered from the occasional nightmare, so those horrific memories were still hovering somewhere. For him, he’d never get the image of how he’d found her out of his mind. Bloodied, broken, abused, and so damn strong.
“That’s why your voice sounded so familiar.”
“What do you mean?”
“That first day when I showed up at the Carmichael training camp, I was nervous, questioning why I was there…questioning everything, really. You came into the foyer to greet me, and something about your voice made me calm down. I kept telling myself that you just had one of those hypnotic-type voices, but that wasn’t it. You were the one to calm my darkest fears when I was so damaged. It only made sense that you would have the same effect on me that day, too.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “I—”
“I’m not paying you a compliment, Gideon.”
He shrugged. At this point, he’d take what he could get.
“So, how did—” She broke off when a knock sounded on her door. Huffing out a frustrated breath, she called, “Just a moment.” She turned her gaze back to Gideon. “We are not through here.”
“I know. I’ve got some things I need to do.” He headed toward the door. “I’ll be back in a while.”
“Before you leave, I need to know one thing.”
He turned to look at her. “What’s that?”
“How much has my father paid you over the years?”
Any good feelings he had about their conversation dissolved in an instant. Though she had every right to her anger and suspicion, to have her question his commitment to her this way pissed him off.
“When I get back, I’ll give you your damn answer, Princesse.”
Her eyes flared at his snarl of anger. Yeah, he didn’t often show his temper, especially not with her, but if she wanted to throw shit at him, he would throw it right back.
He jerked the door open, startling the two women who stood on the other side. “The princesse will see you now.”
CHAPTER TEN
Eve sat in the corner of her bedroom, looking out the window that faced the south lawn. It was her favorite view for many reasons, but the largest was because of the giant oak tree about a hundred yards away. She had wonderful memories of climbing it and existing in seclusion for hours on end.
An unusual feeling of melancholy settled over her. Maybe it was being back home. Perhaps it was learning that Gideon had been lying to her for years. Some of it was likely because of her injuries. Recovering from a concussion, as well as broken bones, took a definite toll on the psyche.
She adored her homeland, and she fiercely loved her family, but returning home also came with a load of memories she could do without. Most people would think that a princess would want for nothing, and she hadn’t, not really. She had a father who loved her, brothers who doted on her, and anything she asked for, within reason, would have been given to her. Other than losing her mother, though she had never really known her, and her beloved brother Samuel, it truly should have been a fairy-tale life—for someone else.
As a socially awkward child who’d never felt comfortable in the public eye, it had been a nightmare. She’d had no real friends and almost zero confidence. She’d been the ugly duckling of the family, and though she was long past those feelings, the memory of that time could still sting.
Yes, she had been loved and adored, but she’d been a lonely little girl whose best friend in the whole wide world had been a four-hundred-year-old tree she had named Homer. He had listened to her secrets and held her in his sheltering arms when she was sad. He had been such a good listener. No judgments, no instructions, no advice. He’d just been there for her. When her father had threatened to have him cut down, she’d been incensed. Saving Homer had been her first real rebellion. She had been adamant that Homer would not suffer for her folly. Thankfully, her father had changed his mind.