"See," Gideon's mother purred as soon as he was close enough that he could hear her without her having to raise her voice. She was still turned toward Gideon but eyeing his approach. "Here he is now. Why don't we ask him?"

Gideon glanced over his shoulder and then pinched his nose.

"Niklaus, darling," she stepped around him and gave Cole a smile, one that was a strange mixture of sharp and syrupy. "Gideon was just telling me about how you do art. I would love to see some of your pieces. And if you are comfortable…" she paused long enough to shoot Gideon a look, "I can speak to some people I know in the arts who might be able to get you an exhibition in one of the galleries downtown."

Cole could hear the echo of Robbie musing whether her assistance was worth it or not. The cost wasn't obvious. Aside from swinging her martini and cigarette around and leaving her ill-adjusted children to run a criminal empire while she retired in Europe, she didn't seem so bad. Then again, she'd watched one of her ill-adjusted children kill another with a completely straight face. Better not to get involved with her at all, even if it was just for a bit of networking.

"Oh, no thanks," he waved his hands dismissively, "I just dabble in my free time. Nothing I'm trying to make a career out of or anything."

He didn't say that his work probably wasn't good enough to be hung in a gallery. For one, he'd hear about it from Gideon later if he did. The man didn't tolerate any self-deprecation. And also, it seemed like an invitation for her to invite herself over to assess his quality as an artist for herself. No thanks.

"Well," she pursed her lips.

Before she could say anything else, Gideon took Cole by the elbow and firmly said, "We better get going, mother. It's been a long day and we're both tired."

Cole certainly had a long day, but it had been spent relaxing at the spa. Gideon, more understandably, was probably short on energy and patience by this point.

"That's right," Cole nodded, widening his eyes in concern, "You had that big meeting all day long." He looked at his mother, "Thank you for inviting us. But it's probably best for us to get going before he falls asleep on his feet."

His mother's manicured brows rose in obvious disbelief, but she let them say their goodbyes and moved onto mingling with someone else. Only two cousins tried to talk to them on their way out, and then they were blessedly walking past the grand staircase beneath the crystal chandelier.

"That wasn't so bad," Cole said, hoping he sounded confident, not like he was trying to convince himself. Gideon, who was texting Barry to bring the car around, grunted noncommittally. But, nobody died. Nobody outright accused Cole of being a gold digger. Within his earshot, nobody talked down to Gideon like he was some mindless goon.

They stepped outside and the air didn't exactly taste like freedom. It was too humid for it to be anything other than horrid and hot. Even dusk hadn't cured it of the hazy mugginess. But Cole felt like, at the very least, the end was in sight. He was wearing hot lingerie. Gideon was all worked up. They would have some extremely sweaty and exhausting sex when they got home.

Maybe he could convince Gideon to skinny dip in the pool with him.

He wondered if this lingerie could get wet.

And then a car pulled up.

But it wasn't the limo SUV.

It was a little two-door sports car of an unidentifiable make—at least to Cole's eyes. But it was low to the ground, with bold curves, and a baby blue paint job. No driver stepped out to come around and release a passenger, but there wouldn't be. You didn't buy a car like that to have someone else drive it for you.

"Oh fuck," Gideon sighed.

Cole glanced at him in alarm, but found that instead of dread or anger, he found only resignation, but in an excited kind of way. This person wasn't someone Gideon didn't necessarily not want to run into.

The woman who stepped out of the car was as suave as the car itself in a fitted cocktail dress and sharp sunglasses. She slipped them off her face as he shut the driver's side door and hooked them into the low collar of her dress, right between her pushed-up breasts. After coming from a house full of people pretending that they had perfect poise, pinkies in the air as even as they sneered and gossiped, seeing someone stick their sunglasses into the bust of their fancy cocktail dress was refreshing. Cole would have been evaluating just how much his life had changed for those kinds of subtleties to matter when judging someone, but he was too busy trying to keep his expression neutral.

Because his blood had chilled in his veins, making his heartbeat sluggish in his ears and his hands numb. Many people, usually men, over the years have made his skin crawl. One look and all he could think of was slime and beetles and snakes. James had been like that. But, they didn't make him freeze in absolute panic like this woman did.

She hopped up the steps in spiky black heels and grinned at Gideon, speaking in what sounded like maybe French. Gideon stepped past Cole and responded in the same language, opening his arms in a welcome response to the smile. They hugged, going back and forth in clear delight, and Cole tried to breathe.

When Gideon turned to introduce them, he instantly picked up on Cole's discomfort.

"You okay? he started to ask, on high alert.

Before either of them had a chance to do or say anything else, the woman let out a peal of laughter. Her eyes were bright as she peered closer at Cole, smile never wavering. She spoke to Gideon while looking him over, almost as if he were a pet someone had brought along. No different than Sunshine.

"You know, they told me you'd married a stripper. And I thought, wouldn't it be funny if it was someone I knew? Didn't think it actually would be!"

Cole's chest felt a little funny, as if his heart couldn't quite get back into rhythm. Wouldn't it be ironic if he died on his mother-in-law's front steps of cardiac arrest from the shock of seeing an old client—and a nasty one at that. This woman was one of the reasons for his rules about not letting people pay to tie him up and for Elijah's over protectiveness.

She was one of the clients who'd caused all the screaming behind a door soon to be broken down by Elijah. Logan had always blamed him for having to return the psycho's money that night, and for having to repay the motel for the broken door, lamp, table, and mirror. But, he never did let her book Cole again, to avoid repeat hassle probably.

By that night, Cole had already become intimately familiar with the sensation of being powerless. He'd already been conned by Logan, lost the house, and no longer talked to his dad. He'd been mugged. He'd been on friendly terms with other dancers only to have them stab him in the back. But he was who he was, guileless to a fault at times, and this woman had been a smooth talker. Smooth enough to talk him right into some ropes. It took a lot to scream loud enough through a gag to be heard through walls, but she'd motivated Cole to do so.

Cole referred to the Barta as psychos and demons and whatnot all the time, but this lady took the cake. It really shouldn't come as a surprise that she was apparently connected to them.

"You two know each other?" Gideon's eyes narrowed as he looked between them.

"Yeah," Cole managed to eke out lamely, swallowing the sick feeling rising in his throat.

Gideon's eyes flicked back and forth, narrowing and narrowing. His brows drew down. And then, because he was one of the sharpest crayons in the box, his expression cleared and he took a step back from the woman, toward Cole.

"You booked his…extra services in the past," he said.

"Ding ding!" she made finger guns. Her nails were black, long, and pointy. "Or well, tried to…"

A loud woof startled everyone. Sunshine came bounding around the front of the house, followed by the two boys who apologized as they scrambled after her. Jimmy’s apologies were directed at Uncle Gideon, Uncle Cole, and Auntie Lauren.

Once they were gone, Lauren continued, "tried to, but this one here is a little persnickety. Wouldn't make it in the customer service business, complaining about giving services to a paying customer. Being a trophy wife suits you better, dear. You find the right one…" she eyed Gideon with a smirk, "and you can be as persnickety as you want. Just remember who's paying for your existence, hmm?"

They'd been so close to ending the night without someone calling him a gold digger.

But alas.

The thought was a bit amusing, enough to help him shake off the terror. He wasn't tied down to a motel bed with a syringe of unidentifiable liquid stuck in his arm. He was with Gideon, who'd proven that he would go to great, morally questionable lengths to protect him. He put a hand on Gideon's arm and muttered, "Can we just go?"

If they started walking down the drive, Barry could pick them up along the way.

"But I only just got here," Lauren pouted.

Gideon actually looked torn. He stayed rooted to the spot, even when Cole tugged his arm, and asked, "Was she one of the clients you still have nightmares about?"

Cole's heart skipped another beat. He glanced at her just as she turned her head and one of her dangle diamond earrings caught the last of the setting sun and flashed. He shuddered, feeling the phantom sensation of cold sweat building between his body and the sheets, ropes burning his skin, blood burning in his veins. Mouth pressed shut, he nodded.

"I see," Gideon put a hand around Cole's wrist and gently tugged him behind his back, which was broad enough to shield him completely from Lauren's view. And her from his. The set of his shoulders promised trouble, though.

He twisted his fingers in the back of Gideon's jacket and muttered again, "Can we just go?"

Gideon ignored him. "I should be surprised, but you always did like playing sick games with people."

"You learned from the best."

"But preying on hookers? Lauren, come on?"

"Some people will let you do anything to them for a buck. Not your little wife though. How'd you end up with someone so picky in bed? Given our shared inclinations, I'd have thought you'd need someone a little…more willing to give up control."

The uncomfortable sensation of a cold chill shivering down his body and his face simultaneously warming swept over Cole. It was like being trapped in a car that had just flown off a bridge and was slowly filling with water. The front steps of his mother-in-law's house was not the place he wanted to hash out this kind of thing. He tugged on Gideon's jacket again.

"What I do in bed is none of your business. I…"

"No?" she let out another amused peal of laughter. "Sweetie, who taught you everything you know?"

Beneath Cole's fist, Gideon was shaking slightly. "You took me to a few clubs, that was it."

"Aw."

Cole hadn't known her for long, but he could imagine her pout.

"You wound me. I helped you come out. I'm the one who helped you understand your…special interests in bed. Took you out to a few clubs? Sweetie, I made you."

Gideon scoffed. "Think whatever you want to think, but I don't terrorize the people I pay to sleep with. They are still people, paying for them doesn't turn them into objects."

They'd hit territory that sounded rote, as if the two of them had this conversation more than once before.

"Marrying Cole didn't make him into a trophy...an object."

Cole rolled his eyes. He wished Gideon would listen to himself sometimes. If he wasn't just some object, then why was he getting shoved behind Gideon while he argued, instead of being escorted away from the confrontation like he'd asked? He let his forehead fall on the back of Gideon's shoulder with a sigh. His stubborn husband was still shaking.

"You always were a soft touch," Lauren drawled. "Never did understand…"

They had been so close to leaving before someone called Gideon dull.

But alas.