Page 104 of Ireland

“Yes?” She faced her dad with her shoulders back and chin lifted. “Bet you’re not happy about missing the excitement at the beach.”

“Excitement is not the word I’d use,” he said gruffly. His silvery gaze—which he’d passed down to her—was dark and turbulent. “Can we agree that you won’t make scheduling decisions for me moving forward? If I want to be somewhere, I should damn well be there.”

She released her pent-up breath in a quick, tremulous rush. “We always felt so safe there. And anonymous. Plus, sometimes we get frisky on the deck.”

“I know when to take a break.”

He came to her. He was so tall and broad-shouldered that he blocked her view of the dining table and the other men behind him until he was all she saw. Deep grooves bracketed his mouth, and lines of strain accompanied the concern in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, hating that he was under so much stress, too.

“Hey.”

It was crazy how much her father could convey with a single word.

Command, always—he could hush a crowded room in an instant. Today, there was admonition, too, letting her know he didn’t appreciate her bottling up her emotions. The note of sympathy, though, arrowed right into her heart. Her throat tightened, and her eyes stung with the threat of tears she couldn’t afford to shed. Not while the men she loved were walking on eggshells around her.

He opened his arms and beckoned her closer with both hands. Eva resisted at first, aware of her tenuous grip on her composure. Later, she couldn’t recall how she ended up enveloped in the strength and support of his familiar, beloved embrace. She just burrowed in and held on with everything she had.?

He rested his cheek against the crown of her head. “There’s my girl.”?

Gideon glanced into the kitchen and saw Victor hugging Eva tightly. It comforted him to see her being taken care of by her dad. He had so much to do that he appreciated the assist. And he understood why Victor needed to hold her close—Eva was the center of the world for both of them.

“We had everything covered already,” Raúl reiterated. “Every person working the event passed background checks and is a longtime employee of Cross Industries or the foundation. No one who’s been employed for less than two years will be staffing the event. We’re just focusing on redundancy at this point.”

Nodding, Gideon pulled out a chair and sat, his body sore from unrelenting tension.

Chase straightened and stretched. “I’ll run by the Bellingham again and reacquaint myself with the ballroom. I’ll also meet with hotel security and triple-check that enough staff are scheduled to cover every ingress point. I still say the mezzanine is a concern, though, and we should close it off.”

Sighing, Gideon nodded, but he knew their guests would be disappointed. The mezzanine’s velvet booths were popular places for private conversation and were one of the reasons they held the masquerade in the Bellingham’s glass-domed ballroom. Unlike the Met Gala in the spring, the foundation allowed guests to take selfies and photographs. “Can we close it off at the top of the staircase rather than below? It’s a popular picture spot.”

Raúl’s considered it. “The problem is it’s a vantage point, so we don’t want people loitering on the stairs. Can you put a photographer there to handle the picture taking so it moves quickly? Maybe more than one?”

“Yes,” Gideon conceded. “I can run with that.”

If they roped off the dual curving staircase at the top and bottom, they could form lines on either side at the base. With the help of assistants, four photographers could position the attendees on each sweeping curve’s high and low ends, and keep things moving

“We’ll have to decorate the mezzanine,” he thought out loud, “to minimize the visual of empty space up there. I’ll ask the events team at the hotel to do what they can.”

“Nothing wide,” Angus cautioned. “Nothing anyone can hide behind. Slender trees would be better. Maybe use some of those tiny lights to dress ‘em up.”

Gideon shot him a surprised but approving look. Fairy lights weren’t something he’d expected the Scot to be aware of. Then again, not much escaped Angus’ keen eye. “Good idea.”

Chase looked at Angus. “Want to tag along?”

The Scot shook his head. “I’ve an unrelated matter to discuss with Gideon.”

“All right. I’ll be in touch then.” Chase moved quickly through the living room and left.

Raúl grabbed a seat at the other end of the table and pulled his laptop out to work. Eva and her father sat at the kitchen island, talking over coffee. Gideon sat back in his chair, feeling the warning signs of an imminent headache.

“You and Eva could use a nap,” Angus noted. “Make sure you both get one. You should be as alert as possible tonight.”

“Christopher is calling at nine to tell me what the hell is happening at Vidal,” Gideon said wearily. “I should’ve known something was wrong and asked more questions when Ireland came to me the other night—I just didn’t want to step on her toes. I’d planned to find out how the company was doing but had other things on my mind.”

“You’ve got a lot on your plate, lad. I hate to add more to it.”

Gideon gave him a level look. “But you have something.”

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