“You want me to hold you?” Gavin said.
Alex was about to tell him to shove it when Marco butted it. “Gavin, leave her alone.”
“Butt out, mate. Her choice if she wants me around.”
“And I really don’t,” Alex stated, but they ignored her.
“She certainly doesn’t want you,” Gavin continued. “Proved that last night, didn’t she?” Marco looked furious.
“Fuck off both of you,” Alex said, finally losing her cool. “I’m done with the lot of you.” The tension in the whole group was palpable and she hated that this was being done in front of an audience.
“Well, you do that pretty easily, don’t you?” Marco said tersely to her. She’d expected her declaration to be the end of it, but Marco apparently wasn’t done.
“Do what exactly?” she shot back.
“Pick and choose when it suits you. Now you’re playing Gavin off like he’s some kind of fiddle.”
“I’m not playing him off,” she spat. “I haven’t given any kind of indication that he’d be remotely welcome. And I didn’t give you one either.” Marco’s lips were tight with anger, but she didn’t care. She was furious with what he’d done, compounded by the fact that he chose now to discuss it. “You can’t just go up and kiss me when you feel like it. We’re over.”
She turned to walk away. “Which is for the best because you’re so god-damned fickle,” he said in a low voice.
“I’m fickle? You’re the one who didn’t feel like being in a relationship anymore, remember, or has that little fact escaped you. Well, guess what, you can’t turn it on and off as you feel like it. Don’t go accusing me of being fickle. And trust me, it’s off for good. Turns out, I really can’t stand you. Don’t go near me again,” she said pointedly. Everyone stood around in awkward silence, not knowing what to do.
That was it; she wasn’t hanging around that night. Abruptly, she turned to walk away and she heard Marco throw his bottle forcefully into the garbage can; it shattering with the force, but she refused to turn around.
Jenny came running up behind her. “I’m sorry, Jenny. He’s a complete arse-wipe and I’m leaving. Go back and hang with them if you want to, but I’m going home.”
“I’m sorry,” Jenny said, putting her arm around her shoulder and commiserating. “Although we could go somewhere else and get blind drunk.”
“I appreciate the idea, but I just want to get away from here, or I might be in danger of strangling him. Arsehole.”
Packing her room up quickly, she and Jenny dragged their wheeled bag over to the train station and ended up having to catch the bus back to London. Jenny rushed into a store and bought a bottle of wine for the journey home. “I think we’re due a treat after the night you’ve had. So what happened last night?”
Alex just groaned and sunk down in her seat.
* * *
Chapter 25:
* * *
Placing her bag down, Alex was actually happy to be back at work after a disastrous weekend. There was nothing for it, she had to put some distance between herself and her group of friends, because it had been awful. First Gavin, which had pissed her off being a complete arse. Then Marco. Not only was he a complete jerk, which she could kind of understand because she’d cut him down quite brutally after the kiss, but he’d kissed her and that had just hurt. She'd trusted him to let it go, but apparently, he wasn't. For a second, with his body flush to hers, she'd wanted nothing but to succumb to it, put it all behind her—meaning she'd gone through all of this for nothing. He couldn't just treat her however he wanted, and they weren't just getting back together because he felt like it now. They weren't getting back together, period.
It was more than clear that what she needed was distance. It hurt making that decision and she didn't know what she was going to do with herself, but she would have to start saying no to the evenings out, the parties, and weekends away. Lonely nights stretched out in front of her, sitting on the couch, watching TV by herself. Groaning, she put her hands to her eyes, trying to rub away her problems. Damn him for doing this to her. He had effectively chased her away, forced her to abandon her friends.
Maybe it was time to grow up, she conceded, and stop being so dependent on her friends. She could still see her friends; they could go out for coffee and even dinner—she just wouldn't be there then they hung out as a group.
"Coming?" Peter asked as he walked past her desk. She hadn't even turned her computer on yet.
"Yes," she replied, trying to sound more chirpy then she was. The Monday morning staff meetings were a lot less exciting now that her time as a hot young thing was over. She was still seen as a failure by just about everyone and it grated every cell in her body.
"Get a move on," Peter said, crossing his arms as he waited for the elevator, standing straight in his navy suit.
In the elevator, he considered her as they moved higher in the building and she returned his scrutiny, mainly because she wasn't going to blush and fall to pieces just because he was staring her down. "Good weekend?" he finally said.
"Brilliant," she said with a smile. "Yours?"
His eyes shifted to the floor counter. She had no idea what he did on his weekends. She couldn't actually picture him away from the office. Maybe he just planned his next move in the politics of this place. "I'm throwing you a bone," he said as the doors opened. Alex's eyebrows raised. "Out of the goodness of my heart. It's not accounts, but it's better than what you've got. What do we say?" His eyes returned to her, boring into her with their icy blue intensity.
She had no idea what it was, but she didn't doubt him. "Thank you, Peter.”
After a quick nod from him, they walked into the staff meeting where everyone was jam-packed into the boardroom.
"Good news, everyone," Casov said, his gold watch catching the light as his hands moved, dress in what looked like a ridiculously expensive shirt with pink and purple stripes. He had a bit of an odd body shape with long legs and a short trunk, but he was the boss around here and whatever he said was law. "Things are moving well with the partner negotiation in America. Peter will be going to LA to deal with some of the details.” Alex’s mind rushed through the implications, particularly as Peter had designated something for her. Everyone's eyes moved to Peter, where he stood casually leaning against the wall, not budging under the scrutiny. Casov smiled at him. He was just the golden boy, wasn't he, Alex thought.
Casov moved on, a couple of new accounts, none of which went to her. It hurt every time an account was handed over to one of her peers. She had to bite her lip and scrutinise her feet unless someone noticed the rejection she felt.
As the meeting concluded and they started pouring out of the door, Peter pushed off the wall and joined her. "And I need someone to do the documentation," he said with a smile. "Bring a bikini.”
"You know, some people would say that was sexual harassment.”
"Bring a one piece then. I don't care," Peter said with a sly grin. One of Peter's gifts was that he could talk himself into or out of anything, and he knew it. He also liked to sail close to the wind, not terrified of a little riskiness, saying things that others would never get away with.
A flash of concern shot through Alex. She would be in LA with him, in a hotel, having breakfast, lunch and dinner, every day, with him likely hitting on her. It was the perfect setup for an affair. But he was right, it was also an opportunity for her to recover her name, be in the spotlight for a bit, even if it was in his reflected glory. Peter putting faith in her meant something to people in this company and he was throwing her a lifeline. She just wasn't sure what the price was going to be.
They flew out two days later—British Airways, business class. The stewardess smiled warmly to Peter, while Alex got pure professionalism. Alex had the sense that if Peter snapped his fingers, he could have that stewardess in the bathroom without so much as a nudge and a wink, and Alex imagined that he actually might—that would be his typical form, but instead of gi
ving it to the stewardess, to the woman's clear disappointment, he pulled Bose earphones out his satchel. "Noise cancelling," he said. "Brilliant.”
What was it about women that made them go for guys like Peter? He was the consummate bad boy. Maybe it was the unshakable confidence. And the worst was that she saw something of him in Marco as well. Marco had that cheeky, all-the-girls-can't-resist-me thing too. He wasn't as screwed up as Peter, but then Peter had been at it for longer. Or maybe he was. Alex had to admit that she didn't know Marco as well as she'd thought she had. The question was if Marco would turn into Peter over time. There certainly was that potential. Marco went for what he wanted. When he was bored, they were done, and now he wanted them on again, and expected her to come running when he snapped his fingers.
Marco had been slightly vague on the issue of why they'd gotten together in the first place, been very defensive when she brought up the idea of their relationship and the competition for the Lush account being remarkably coincidental. But if he had been using her, and she wasn't sure that his motives had been all that honourable—what did he want from her now? Her mind flitted to the kiss they'd had in Brighton. Her knees had melted; she'd melted. She'd wanted him so bad; she'd been just as bad as Lacey.
I am not going to be Lacey, Alex told herself, yet again. She was not going to let guys use her and then be a sucker for it when they jerked her around. She just didn't know what that left. If she wasn't Lacey, did that leave Peter?—screw people without a care, just grab what she wanted and then drop them when she didn't? But she was pretty sure that wasn't the ticket to happiness either.
Alex pushed her thoughts aside and engrossed herself in a book she'd picked up at the airport—a murder mystery set in an English village where everyone knew each other and had grievances going back thirty years. Alex smirked at the idea. Maybe her life would be like that if they were all stuck in a small village together, unable to escape each other. Every woman in the village would hate Peter and he would be the one ending up with a knife in his back. Okay, that was funny and she couldn't help laughing, which brought a look from Peter, who had no idea she was actually thinking of his murder—and she would be in a long line of many on that account.
The breeze was warm and the sun accostingly bright when they stepped out of LAX arrivals and stood in line for the taxi. Alex had no idea what time it was, but she was exhausted.
"Can't go to sleep for another six hours," Peter said, checking his watch and Alex visibly crumbled. "Best thing to do is go to the office.”
"So I can sit and stare at the wall? I can't trust anything I do right now.”
"Then dig deep and pull it out.”
At the office, Peter was charming. They were introduced to everyone there—people Alex hadn't even realised were part of their company. They were mostly American, with glossy hair and bright makeup.
"Hi, Peter," one of the girls said, coming around her desk to shake his hand overly long. "It's so good to see you again.” Alex gritted her teeth to stop herself from rolling her eyes.
"Have you slept with everyone here?" she asked quietly when they moved on down the corridor of the creatively designed office.
"Not yet," he said. "There's you for one, stubbornly holding up the placard for your team.”
"And what team is that?"
"You know, I'm not really sure," he said honestly.
"Maybe the team that doesn't sleep with bosses or colleagues.”
"Only competitors?”
"Low blow.”
"I didn't start this conversation, but I have no qualms about talking about my sex life if that's what floats your boat.”
Alex could only roll her eyes. Grabbing one of the hot-desks, she logged on and checked her email, cursing herself for getting into this mess—not that she had a choice. This was the only way to save her career, and if Peter was going to help her do that, she had to be grateful.
Unsure how she got through the day, she'd forced herself to eat a quick dinner in the restaurant in the lobby. Annoyingly, Peter looked fresh as a daisy. He never gave in—never looked less than immaculate, but she was too tired to be resentful. Another thing Peter and Marco had in common, they dressed to kill and always made the effort. Mercifully, Peter didn't dawdle and Alex was grateful when he didn't suggest anything as she stepped off the elevator. Maybe he was more tired than he let on.
* * *
Chapter 26:
* * *
Turns out she didn't have to worry about Peter—she rarely saw him. During the day, he was in meetings and in the evenings, he did his own thing. He wasn't unfriendly; he just knew people in LA and had a lot on, which left Alex to fend for herself. Strictly, she didn't mind, but it became boring sitting in her hotel room or going down the street for dinner alone. She had no car and this was not a city for pedestrians, which meant her options were limited.
She'd done a bit of shopping down in Santa Monica, but she was getting to the point where she was over being there. Work kept her busy, but she wasn't really enjoying this trip that much—not that the primary objective of it was enjoyment—she was here to work and she held up her end of the bargain.
Putting her computer bag down on the bed, she heard the door to her room close behind her, shutting her off in this still, air-conditioned space. It would likely be another quiet night of watching TV, where she had no idea what was on, or how to find her way around the millions of channels and the screaming ads. US ads were different from British ads.
As she was about to grab the room service menu, her phone rang and she looked over, seeing Peter's name flash on the screen.
"Hey," she said as she answered it, wondering what he wanted.
"You got dinner plans?"
"Nothing specific.”
"Good. Meet me at this place called Moru down Wilshire, in an hour.”
On one level, she really wanted some company for dinner, but she was a bit peeved that he would just assumed she had nothing else to do. The fact that she didn't was completely beside the point. "Fine," she said, too tired to argue.
The hotel had to call her a taxi and she hoped the driver knew where to find this restaurant. Alex had dressed a little more casual than what she wore in the office, a metallic shirt and jeans, but she didn't want to give Peter the impression that she was looking to score that night. Peter was difficult enough to manage as it was.
The restaurant was Japanese, with dark wood and silk prints hanging down over the doorway. She found Peter sitting at one of the small wooden tables, checking emails on his phone.
"How's your day been?" she asked as she sat down.
"Good. Excellent. Yours?"
"Getting on with it.” She had frantically tried to incorporate all the directions, points and arguments that Peter kept sending through all day.
The waiter came and Alex hadn't even looked at the menu yet, trying to stop herself hurriedly trying to take it all in and managing to take nothing in. "What do you recommend?" she asked the waiter.
"The salmon teriyaki," Peter stated before the waiter had a chance to respond. "We'll take two, and some sake.” With a look from Peter, the waiter left without Alex having a chance to say either way.
"Salmon it is," she said. Luckily she didn't mind, but she considered kicking up a fuss on principle, but accepted she'd probably be wasting her breath. Peter didn't do the fundamentals of consideration; he certainly wasn't going to take direction from her on the finer points.
They spoke for a while about the project and what they had to do, but the food came quickly, putting an end to the shop talk. It really was delicious.
"You've been here before, I take it," she said.
"To this restaurant? Yes, many times.”
The sake was cool and refreshing, with a kick. It complemented the food perfectly.
The plates were cleared away, leaving only the sake bottle and two small clay cups.
Peter poured more sake into each cup, replaced the bottle, then turned his head slightly an
d considered her. He was attractive and he knew it. She wondered if he'd be quite the player if he wasn't so attractive.
"Would you live here?" she asked after a while, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
"In LA?" He shrugged slightly. "It's alright. You can make money here. The lifestyle is pretty good.”
"Then why aren't you here?"
Peter shrugged again, which was odd because Alex had always assumed that money was Peter's mainstay and guiding principle. There certainly wasn't a girlfriend holding him back and she was pretty sure he wasn't one to miss the lack of seasons. Somehow she didn't think Peter was quite the eager beaver for the country and nature walks. "I like London," he finally said. "People here can be problematic.”
Wha—?" she started, then it dawned on her. "You mean the girls. They don't like your love-them-and-leave-them ways here.”
Peter grinned. "You catch on quick sometimes, Alex. I find the girls in London a lot more circumspect, whereas here, girls are more likely to expect that everything ends with shacking up and living happily ever after or until the next divorce hearing. I think American girls are more surprised when relationships don't work out, even less accepting that they shouldn't work out.”
"Like Lacey.”
"Well, Lacey just didn't have the relationship she wanted.”
"She was in love with you.”
Peter gave her a warning look. "Lacey didn't give a damned what I wanted. With Lacey, it was all about what Lacey wanted and she wanted a happy ever after, getting really pissed off when she didn't get it.”
"Oh, my god, you're so cynical.”
"No, I'm realistic.” He poured another round into the small cups. "Lacey's feelings were only a deeper form of manipulation—'if you don't do what I say, I'm going to feel bad'.”
The Gamble (D'Arth Series Book 3) Page 16
