“Happy New Year,” Anthony exclaims as he rushes over and shakes Gideon’s hand, before laying a kiss on the back of mine. “Did you do anything nice? It was a double celebration for you both, right? Henry and I spent the afternoon lounging around, playingMario Kartand watchingLord of the Rings.”
Henry is Anthony’s husband, and the only reason Gideon isn’t losing his mind about the kiss on my hand. “We had the perfect day. Spent our time celebrating our first year together and looking to the future,” Gideon answers. He’s right, I am looking to the future.
Anthony wiggles his eyebrows. “Do I smell babies this year?”
I chuckle. “If you smell babies, I would be concerned.”
The door opens again, and Mike’s imposing form enters. He takes the typical stance at the window. Anthony looks Mike up and down like he’s a delicious snack. “Ooh, you brought eye candy.”
Gideon raises a brow before kissing my temple. “Be good.” He turns to leave.
I clear my throat. Here goes. “Gideon, I’ll need my medication in four hours.”
He freezes, his shoulders stiffening before he spins back around. His baby blues are like ice chips as he narrows them.
“Are you unwell?” Anthony asks.
“Kidney infection,” Gideon answers smoothly. It always astonishes me how a warrior of the truth can lie so easily.
He darts his gaze to Mike and pulls the two bottles out of his pocket before handing them to the burly bodyguard. “She’sdue one of each of these at twelve. Ensure she takes them. She gets a little forgetful.”
Mike clutches them in his hand before nodding. “Yes, sir.”
Gideon faces me with a frown wrinkling his forehead. My gut twists as our eyes meet. Can he see the resolve in mine? I hope not. This is the final time we will be in the same room, and in a few hours, the last time we shall be in the same city. Even though I know I have to run before he breaks me completely, there’s a melancholy sense of loss. Loss for my innocence, loss for my marriage, loss for my eroded trust in humanity. Anyone in this situation will tell you the complex emotions are confusing and debilitating. You’ve been taught and fed the lie that you can’t survive without them for so long, and you believe it. Taking your choices, free will, and independence means you rely on another to decide your everyday life, from the clothes that you wear to the food you eat. Faced suddenly with no guidance, it makes your mind rebel.
“Enjoy your pampering, Honor. Anthony, she enjoys the head massage you offer. Don’t over lighten her hair, she doesn’t like it.” No, he doesn’t like it.
Anthony gives a quick nod, his eyes tightening. There you go—he sees everything. Then Gideon is gone, the door sweeping closed behind him. I watch his shadowy figure through the frosted glass as he climbs into the car. A minute later and that, too, is gone.
Anthony clutches my shoulders and ushers me up the step to his personal workstation at the rear of the salon. I glance over my shoulder at Mike. He doesn’t move, but his steely gaze watches us.
I fold myself into the leather chair, wincing as the pain deep inside my core pulses. Anthony’s mouth tightens as he fluffs my hair and pushes it forward.
“What are you feeling like today, Honor?”
“A touch up of myhighlights, small trim off the ends. I’m thinking of trying something a little different.”
His warm brown gaze finds mine in the mirror. “Like?”
My heart thunders in my chest. “Bangs.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Great. That, I can do.” My shoulders drop. Phase one. He picks up my handbag from the floor. “I’ll put this in the back.” He nods at the magazines laid out before me. “Entertain yourself for a few minutes while I prepare everything.”
I pick up one of the glossy brochures and flick through. My gaze lands on a picture of myself and Gideon sharing a kiss on New Year’s Eve. The caption reads, “District Attorney Lowell, still very much in love one year after he took himself off the market.”
I snort. If only they knew.Good news, ladies, he’s about to be unexpectedlyonthe market.Anthony appears from the back room with his chin tilted into the air as his gaze darts to Mike. His lips press into a thin line. He puts the pot of red paste on the small trolley next to my chair, and retrieves a stack of foil strips from a drawer. It’s on.
We fall into seemingly careless chatter as he paints the color onto my strands. The chemical smell of colorant stings my nostrils. He selects massive chunks of hair. I’ve never been a redhead, only ever blonde by Gideon’s stipulation. I suppose it is one thing he’s never tried to change.
Anthony pats my shoulder. “I’ll let you cook for thirty before I work my magic hands on your scalp.”
“Sounds good.”
Mike has barely moved an inch. It amazes me how these bodyguards are trained to stay alert for hours at a time. I would fall asleep out of boredom. Watching his boss’s wife have her hair done as she chitchats to her hairdresser about the latest gossip in New York is hardly riveting. This next part is going totake a little finesse and a lot of luck. My eyes watch the oversized clock on the wall. Fourteen minutes past ten. Anthony peeks inside one foil and hums.
“Looks like you are done. You want a coffee?” He raises a brow. Unspoken communication flies between us.
“After you get these foils off, please.”
