Closing her eyes, she leaned back on the wall, before glancing back inside at Marco. He was still angry when he sat down; she could see his face drawn as he tried to re-join the conversation. Under the circumstances, he couldn't blame her, surely? Although if the tables were turned, she would be highly offended too.
Pushing off the wall, she walked out into the rain and opened her umbrella. She felt even worse. If it were true, it would in some way be an easier option because it would absolve her of any fault in this whole thing, else he broke up with her because he didn't want to be with her. The underlying tone, if she read through the lines, was that she'd been needy and clingy, and he couldn't handle being in a relationship with her. No, she refused to take that on. Just because she wanted to do couple things, didn't make her a pariah. He was the immature one and she wasn't going to take the blame for it.
The streets were practically empty. This was the only time she'd had them to herself. There was something to be said for going for a walk on a cold, rainy evening.
When dozing off to sleep that night, Alex's phone beeped with an arriving text. Grabbing it, she opened it. It was from Marco as ‘fuckwit’ flashed across the screen.
I wasn't with you for the contract, Alex.
I had to ask.
I thought you knew me better than that. Guess not.
Then again, she really hadn't seen their breakup coming, so how well did she know him? She didn't know what else to say, so she left it there. No further texts came from him. He was likely at home now, maybe even lying in bed like she was. He used to text her at night just like this when they were together—less accusatory, though. Her eyes prickled with tears as she felt the sorrow of their breakup yet again.
* * *
Chapter 17:
* * *
Comfortably drunk, Marco half listened to what the short girl with dark curly hair was saying, but not really paying attention. Mostly, he was amazed that he didn't have to panic because some girl was flirting with him, worrying that his girlfriend would take offense and kick off an argument that would inevitably end up being his fault, all because some random girl chose to speak with him. Not that Alex was quite that dramatic, but he would still get the hard eyes from her in this scenario.
He wasn't sure where he was—some flat filled with people. He had no idea who's flat; he'd just agreed to go when Dion had proposed it. There was some girl Dion was after that ran with this crowd. Dion didn't seem to want to do anything other than chase after this girl; it had taken over his psyche completely. Marco recognised the consuming obsession; one he was staying well clear off for the moment—although a shame, considering how cute the girl flirting with him was. Marco was taking a complete break from girls, still feeling battered from his thing with Alex and the hard, complicated emotions that went with it, even before they broke up. Single life was easy and stress-free in comparison and a rational mind wondered why they got themselves into such things.
He considered breaking his oath not to mess with girls as the current one was smiling enticingly at him. All he had to do was relent and she would be his for the night. "I've got to go," he said to the girl's disappointment.
Seeking out Dion, he found him having managed to get the attention of the girl he had his sights on. Marco smiled and decided to leave Dion to it. No matter how hard it was, girls drew guys in; compelled them into a single, determined focus. It was an inescapable fact, and a trap that needed to be guarded against with equal determination.
Making his way out of the building, he walked along the dark, empty street until he reached a more crowded area where he could get a taxi. The flat was dark and cold when he got there, but it warmed quickly and a couple of beers out of the fridge had him feeling nicely sedate and tired.
Unready to sleep, he watched TV, flicking through the channels without settling on anything. Unbidden, his mind wandered to Alex, wondering what she was doing. Most likely, she would be asleep. He wondered if she hated him.
A surprisingly warm and bright spring day beckoned out the window from the office. Marco had spent the whole morning working on detailing the media strategy for the Lush Cosmetics account.
"You simply can't work through lunch on a day like this," Charlotte stated. "Come with me to the park.”
Marco frowned for a moment, ready to say no, but he could use a moment away from his desk. "Yeah, alright then.”
They walked over to Pret-A-Manger to buy lunch, then down the street to the small park crowded with Londoners soaking up the rare spring sun.
"I am so ready for summer," Charlotte said as she opened the small pouch of salad dressing and poured it. Charlotte ate practically nothing, but she had a nice figure for it, dressed in an expensive white shirt and high-waisted dark grey pants. Charlotte always looked polished. "We better have a decent one or I will seriously consider moving to Australia.”
Marco chuckled. "I couldn't imagine you in Australia.”
"It would be great. I could live in Sydney," she said, slightly offended at being told she couldn't achieve something. "No, you're probably right; I would miss my friends too much. I don't think I could trade my life here for barbeques and beaches. I could only handle that for so long—like two weeks, really. What are you doing tonight?"
"Shopping," Marco admitted—an intended plan he could only admit to a girl.
"Oh, my favourite activity. Anything special?"
"I have to buy a suit for a wedding.”
"Who's getting married?" Charlotte asked a little more interested than the bored voice she used when she was making conversation to avoid awkward silence. Charlotte typically didn't do silence.
"My sister," Marco said and finished off the first of his roast beef and coleslaw sandwich.
"In New Zealand?"
"No, in Lichtenstein.”
"Lichtenstein?" Charlotte said with confused astonishment.
"Some castle over there. I don't even know where Lichtenstein is. Do I really need a date? Can’t I go alone?" he asked, bringing up a concern that had been sitting in the back of his mind. Charlotte knew everything there was to know about etiquette—she was quite useful in that way.
"Yes, to a wedding, you definitely have to bring someone. You will be actually highlighting yourself as a complete loser if you don't. It's completely frowned upon. How is it that your sister is marrying in a castle in Lichtenstein? That seems an odd choice.”
"It's apparently her fiancé's castle.”
"Who is she marrying?" Charlotte asked, suddenly very interested.
"His name is Sebastian Luc.”
"Your sister is marrying Sebastian Luc? As in St Julien and Harrowford family Sebastian Luc?" she asked disbelievingly.
Marco didn't bother answering, knowing it annoyed Charlotte when he did that, plus he had no idea of Sebastian Luc's family connections. He certainly wasn't going to go into the merits of Sam's intended.
"Wha. . ? How is it your sister is marrying Sebastian Luc?"
"It's complicated.”
"Oh my god, you have to take me," Charlotte said, grabbing his label into her fist. "Do you have any idea who will be at that wedding? Magazines would cover it. You're not messing with me, are you? There will be royalty there. Anyone who is anyone in Europe will be there. I will never forgive you if you don't take me.”
"It's a stupid wedding.”
"It will be, like, the see and be seen event of the year.” Charlotte stood up sharply. "I am coming shopping with you. Oh my god. Sebastian Luc's wedding. Why didn't you tell me?"
Marco shrugged. He had never seen Charlotte so excited. Taking Charlotte would actually solve his date problem.
"You're not taking that girl from Grossman Altitude, are you?"
"No," he said.
"Good. So you're taking me, right?" Her excitement was almost palpable. If nothing else, maybe Charlotte's excitement would rub off on him, and her knowledge of etiquette would come in handy as he and his family might be seen as the uncouth commoners who Se
bastian Luc had the misfortune to be snared by. The society of his sister's fiancé was closer to Charlotte's circle than his own. Charlotte knew who Sebastian Luc was, at least. If not her, he would have to take some random girl, which could invite all sorts of unnecessary drama.
"Charlotte, would you be my date?"
Charlotte jumped excitedly in her high heels. "I thought you'd never ask. Let's go shopping.” She grabbed his sandwich out of his hand and threw it in the bin next to the park bench.
"Hey!" he objected.
"We have to go shopping," she said and tugged him out of his seat.
"Now? I have to go back to work.”
"Who cares about work? This is the wedding of the year. You can work later.” She started walking off at a brisk pace. "Your sister is going to a countess. Did you know that?"
"Great," Marco muttered. All of this was completely foreign to him.
"Unless, of course, they divorce before he comes into his title. Which, honestly, wouldn't be surprising. It is Sebastian Luc—notorious with the girls. Let's go to Liberty. We have to get clothes from this season.”
Marco wondered what Sam had gotten herself into. Sam wasn't an idiot, but he hoped she knew what she was doing, because he had no idea. "You don't need to come shopping with me," he said, but he actually didn't mind. He didn't completely enjoy shopping and it might be better with company.
"I have to see what you get so I can match.”
Marco knew it was useless arguing with her. Charlotte would be a force when she wanted something.
"By the way, what happened with the girl from Grossman Altitude?" she asked as they got into a taxi.
"It ended.”
"It went on for long enough. I bet she is livid with you," Charlotte said with a grin. "She lost the contract and at Grossman Altitude, that is unforgivable. She'd work for Peter Dunham and he is brutal—hot, though.” Marco really didn't want to hear how hot Alex's boss was.
He hadn't heard anything about Alex losing her job, but maybe that was the reason she'd turned up at the pub accusing him of sleeping with her to sabotage her chances of winning. Conflicting would be the only way he could describe his emotions about it. The truth was that in the beginning, he couldn't completely swear that some of his motivation and interest hadn’t come from the fact that she was the competition, with the intent of bringing her down. But then he'd certainly been attracted to her before work was even an issue, but he'd resented her too. It had always been complicated with Alex, and it got even more so after they'd gotten together. So while Charlotte fully believed him capable of despicable behaviour, he couldn't completely absolve himself.
Even though he couldn't quite pin down his intentions in the beginning, he was sorry things were hard for her now, but that was the nature of the game. As opposed to what Charlotte believed, he hadn't sabotaged Alex's pitch in any way—she'd lost on the merit of her proposal. Maybe the joke had been on him after all, because Alex had sucked him in and enveloped him completely. He had lost himself in that relationship and he was still suffering the effects of it.
* * *
Chapter 18:
* * *
At the end of the day, Alex sat at a table by the huge lobby window, absently stirring her coffee when a person joined her at her table. Looking up, she saw Peter sitting sideways, with his back leaning on the window glass.
"If you're trying to drown your troubles, alcohol works better," he said, picking a piece of lint off his arm.
Had her anxiety been that visible? "Just trying to think things through.”
"Action tends to work better, I find.”
It was the perfect moment for a disparaging joke, but she just didn't feel like it. The barista came over and gave Peter a box, smiling intently at him. "Here you go, Mr. Dunham," the young girl said.
"Thank you, Clara.”
Blushing, Clara walked off, obviously conscious that Peter was watching her.
"Have you slept with everyone in the building?"
"No, her," he said and opened the white takeaway box. "She is off limits.”
"Oh really? Pray tell," Alex had never heard of anyone off limits before, except maybe Mr. Casov's wife.
"She serves my food and I am too comfortable with this set up to mess with it.”
Alex had to laugh. "So the one person that's off limits to you is the dinner lady? Is that your dinner?"
"Yes," he said and speared the plastic fork into the Thai beef salad. "Care to join me?"
"No, thanks.” It actually smelled wonderful.
"Still licking your wounds? You know resilience is an admirable quality—so is sleeping your way to the top.” Peter was teasing her, well, half-teasing as she was someone he hadn't slept with and the offer was definitely not a joke.
"Are you suggesting I sleep with Mr. Casov?" Alex said with false coquettishness. Two could actually play this game. If there was one thing that got Peter, it was challenging his longstanding position as the object of desire.
Peter's eyes sparkled with challenge. "Casov likes his girls younger and dirtier than you.”
"And ehw.”
"Such a prude, Alex.”
"And proud of it," she said, knowing Peter was provoking her to prove him wrong and she was not going to fall for it.
"So what has you cowering here, hiding in a corner?"
She hated it when he did that, read her correctly. The one thing she did like was his honesty, and considering he lied to girls on a constant basis, she made an effort to hold up her end of it. "I am going to a thing this evening and my ex is going to be there. It will be the first time I see him.”
"So?"
"Well, I am a lot more invested in these things than you, so it's a bit challenging for me.”
"This is the chap from Jamieson and Poole? The one that loved you and left you?"
"Yes," she said through gritted teeth.
Peter leant back in his chair again. "Then go wearing armour.”
"How?"
"Well, sulking in the corner isn't going to do it. Look sexy and look confident. It helps to have someone sexy hanging off your arm, as well.”
She could manage the first two; she could suck it up and make it seem like it meant nothing to her. "Well, I don't have a little black book filled with guys who come running when I order them to.”
"That is your fault, isn't it? A little black book would be very useful at a time like this.”
"Besides, he pretty much knows the people I know.”
"Technically, I am available this evening, if something interesting calls. I have been used for torturing exes before," he said casually.
"The price for your services are too steep.”
"Nonsense," he smiled, knowing he had her on the hook.
"I am never going to sleep with you, Peter.” Peter bit his lip, drawing her attention to his mouth. A practiced move, she was sure. "I need you like you need your barista—hence, I am never going to blow it by visiting your bed.”
Peter almost looked pleased. "Take me with you tonight.”
"And why would you help me? Don't tell me you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart, because we both know you don't have one.”
"Maybe I want to have a look at this young stud," Peter said. "Check out the up-and-comer. Might have to take him out one day.”
She didn't know how, but this was a bad idea, but then again, having someone on her side would help her get through this. Once this first meet was over, things would get better. And she'd informed Peter that nothing would result from it. If he believed otherwise, he would learn. "Okay," she relented. She took his point about resilience; she needed to get over this and move past it. While facing Marco was cringe-worthy, she needed to get on with things. She couldn't afford to fall apart tonight—everyone would be watching, and she would never forgive herself if she broke into pieces—she had some pride. Taking Peter was the lesser of two evils at the moment. "Fine. Please come with me.”
Alex took a deep breath
to calm down and hide her nervousness after getting out of the taxi in front of Dume Bar on Great Portland Street. This bar was close to where Marco worked. Drawing breath again, she knew this was going to be an uncomfortable evening, only the second time to see Marco since Crete, after that disastrous confrontation. She couldn't be weak; she also couldn't be weak in front of Peter—her future at Grossman Altitude depended on maintaining a decent relationship with him.
"Let's go," she said, still uncertain if it had been a good idea to bring Peter, but she was committed now—she had to make the best of it.
Opening the door she walked into a warm space. This was a bar as opposed to a pub, decorated with sharp design rather than the more comforting easy décor of a pub. Her group of friends was sitting and standing down the end of the bar area. It was Rachel's birthday and she had chosen this gathering. Alex owed it to her friend to not wuss out because Marco was going to be there. Unfortunately, they shared a group of friends, so she would just have to get over seeing him around. Confident, she told herself and straightened her back as she walked over to Rachel to greet her with a kiss on the cheek and to wish her happy birthday.
She spotted Marco standing with Dion and Robbie along one of the tall tables. He looked good as he always did, dressed in dark jeans and a jacket. He still commanded her attention and her heart raced when she saw him. A sense of familiarity struck her—seeing him seemed so normal. It was hard for her to keep in mind that he wasn't hers anymore. Unfortunately, it still hurt, but she pressed it down and turned her attention to the bar.
"What are you having?" Peter asked.
"Stoli, I think.”
"Hard liquor," Peter smile. "Keep that up and you'll either end up in my bed, or his," he said, discreetly pointing at Marco.
"Shut up, Peter.” A new level of disaster scenario unfolded in her head—whichever way it unfolded. She would only have one drink. She could not afford either of those worst-case scenarios.
The Gamble (D'Arth Series Book 3) Page 11
