"She did feel bad.”
"Only because she didn't get what she wanted.” He leant back and sipped the small cup held between his thumb and index finger. "I liked Lacey," he said after a while, "but she broke the deal. I was always upfront with her, she didn't hold up her end of it.”
Alex wasn't sure there was anything to say that would get through his way of thinking. "So what, there's no future, just random meaningless hook ups?"
"Random and meaningless?" he repeated. "Doesn't have to be that.”
"But it doesn't lead anywhere.”
"Lead to what? What was so great about your relationships? You were cheated on by a guy who really didn't know you from a lamp post. Then dumped by a guy who trampled on you like a stepping stone in a career move. You're a doormat all wrapped up in romantic ideals. Can someone get you to do just about anything as long as they tell you it's romantic?"
Alex's mouth grew tight with dismay. Her relationships looked ugly in that light and she looked stupid. Unfortunately, what Peter was saying about Gavin was true and she was learning to recognise that now; she had been too young to see that before. But Marco … it wasn't true. Peter's version just wasn't true. Well, she preferred to think so. "He didn't use me to get the contract," she defended herself.
"Are you sure?"
She had never been entirely sure and Peter was just toying with her insecurity. "He wants to get back together.”
Peter smiled almost a little patronisingly and she hated him for it. "He's trying to manipulate you.”
"No, he's not. In fact, he cares enough about me to not want me with you.”
"Does he now? I thought you were pretty adamant that was never going to happen.”
"I didn't tell him that, did I?"
"And now that you're moving away, out of control, he's getting all googly-eyed for you. Manipulation, pure and simple.”
"Maybe people aren't as devious as you like to think.”
"I grant you that they may not be entirely cognisant, but they're still doing it. Marco what's-his-face only became interested in you when he thought he was losing control over you. Before that, he was quite happy to throw you away.”
Alex hated that everything Peter was saying could be twisted to make sense if viewed in the ugliest possible light. "Maybe I don't think it's better to view everyone as having ulterior control motives. And yes, maybe there are some shit people in the world, but eventually, I will find the right person.”
"So you can shack up, put all your money into expensive schools for sprogs who grow up hating you, realise that your relationship is a farce and end up old, cynical and divorced.”
"And this is better? Constantly looking for the next?" she asked, unsure what it was he promoted.
"Short, intense relationships. All the good stuff—exploration, sex, excitement.”
"But you end up alone.”
"Neither of us are alone right now. Nothing here is based on a fallacy. I know your flaws, you know mine.”
"And then what?" How had they even gotten onto this discussion?
"Why must there always be a then? It doesn't have to be a means to an end. You can just appreciate it for what it is.”
Oh, he was such a smooth talker. He was practically talking her into an affair with him. This was how he did it, and it was completely undeniable that it was effective. Part of her just wanted to say hell yes and run off for a spectacular evening of abandonment, to be left behind the next day as something that only lived for a day.
Alex didn't know why, but in her turmoil, Peter somehow felt like an anchor in a storm. She was just so confused about everything. The things he said went against everything she believed, but it also made sense in a way she didn't want to consider too closely. "But then that's all you have—you'll never know anyone on a deeper level.”
Peter's eyebrows shot up. "You know, Alex, I would bet my next year's income that I know you better than either of your boyfriends.”
Alex smiled, because it sounded ridiculous, but he was dead serious. Thinking it over, she wondered if it could possibly be true. With Gavin, it was a no brainer. And Marco, they hadn't been together that long, and he'd been surprised that she wasn't going to wait around for him while he took a break. Did he even know her at all? Much less care? God, this was depressing. Peter might actually be right. Everything hurt at the moment.
"You'll be a much happier person if you give up these ridiculous expectations. You've been sold a fairy tale and fairy tales are for children—too innocent to realise what they're being told. It wouldn't be a fairy tale if it was remotely realistic.” Peter was sitting back now, watching her. Alex could feel his eyes on her, taking every one of her reactions in.
"I'm not ready to give up the fight just yet," she said honestly. She wasn't prepared to surrender her hopes and dreams. She wanted someone to share her life with and she wasn't ready to consider that she couldn't have it—she just hadn't met the right person.
Peter looked disappointed with her. "You ready to go?"
It took Alex a moment to realise he meant the restaurant. She nodded, feeling emotionally sore from the evening. "You're a barrel of laughs, you know that?"
* * *
Chapter 27:
* * *
Walking into the pub, Marco looked around, spotting his friends as he made his way through the crowd. Searching through the group, the one person he hoped would be there wasn't. Disappointment sat bitterly in his chest. Against his own better judgement, he'd hoped she'd be here, but she never was these days—not since they’d had that fight. He felt bad about the things he’d said, but he’d been so angry—hurt that she’d rejected him.
"Marco," Robbie said and slapped him on the back. "How've you been?"
"Good," he said, and technically it was true. He didn't really have anything to complain about.
"Oh, hey," he said and leaned over, grabbing a girl's wrist and pulling her over. "This is Cassie, my cousin from back home. She's just arrived. Cassie, Marco, Marco, Cassie.”
The girl smiled and reached out her hand. She was cute, blond, with straight hair. "Hi," she said. "First day in London.”
"We've all had one of those," Marco smiled, feeling pressed to be polite. He should be impressed when a cute single girl came on the scene, but his interest didn't even flutter. But she was Robbie's cousin, so he would make the effort to make her feel welcome. Secretly, he hoped the fates hadn't been cruel and taken Alex from him and replaced her with this girl.
Jenny arrived and Marco felt a flare of hope. If Jenny was here, maybe Alex was coming. Marco waited, letting the scene around him unfold as it would. People spoke, joked, laughed and drank. He hated that he couldn't do anything but wait—his mind refused to relent its objective.
Eventually, Jenny sat down next to him. "Hi, Marco. How have you been?"
"Good. Yourself.”
"Not bad. Going to Madrid this weekend. Looking forward to it.”
"Alex going with you?" he asked, hoping he sounded casual.
"No, she's in LA.”
Marco absorbed the news. LA? What was she doing there? A flash of concern shot through his mind that this was something more than a getaway.
"Work," Jenny said, seemingly reading his mind. Dread crept up his spine. Work could be something of a more permanent nature. It wasn't inconceivable that she'd been moved to the US.
"Work?" he repeated, clearing his throat.
"Some kind of partnership deal she's working on.”
Marco almost felt relief drip off him. It sounded like a project, which by nature would be temporary.
"And when is she coming back?"
"I don't know, Marco. You're going to have to ask her.” Jenny sounded annoyed with him, which maybe he could understand as he was effectively grilling her on his ex’s whereabouts. He just couldn't help it—go on for god knows how long, wondering if Alex had actually left the country for good. He would rather put up with Jenny's annoyance and know.
Marco
leant back on the sofa and took a sip of his beer. If she was working, she was with Peter Dunham. The discomfort in his stomach ratcheted up. Peter Dunham was a grade-A douchebag from what Marco had heard, but maybe that wasn't the worst that could happen. Charlotte had regaled him with Peter's player status in the industry, so Marco resolved that there wasn't a relationship he needed to worry about. Alex might get hurt, but that was better than her falling in love. This was triage and injured was better than losing her—injured could be fixed. Right now, he didn't even care if she wasn't able to see through Peter's games, a shortcoming he normally would have derided in any girl.
Jenny was talking to him about Madrid, but he wasn't listening. Dion came and Jenny's focus shifted away from him for a while, before Dion slapped Marco on his knee. "There's this party; we're going. You coming?"
"Nah," Marco said. He really wasn't in the mood for a party, thumping music and inane conversation. He wasn't even in the mood to be here. The quiet hope he'd started the evening with had diminished to a bare flicker—but it wasn't extinguished. She'd been adamant she wanted nothing to do with him, but the barest of hope refused to die—what choice did he have at this point?
Returning home he sat down heavily on the couch. Everyone was out and the flat was still. Letting his head drop back on the headrest, he closed his eyes. He should be out, enjoying the evening with his friends, maybe even trying it on with Cassie, but he just couldn't focus, and since there was no hope of Alex being there, it all just seemed pointless.
He had to pull himself together. He'd fucked up and lost her and now he had to deal with it. This moping served no purpose, but he couldn't bear to do anything else either.
Thoughts of Alex with Peter Dunham kept torturing him. Images of them together, when she could be there on the couch with him, watching a movie and planning some trip while he admired her legs, played with her skin, seduced her. Instead, the room was cold and unwelcoming. There was nothing on TV he wanted to watch, but he turned it on anyway and watched some motorway patrol reality show.
Pushing her card into her hotel room, Alex shouldered the door open. She'd decided to return to her room early that day, feeling like a shower. The air-conditioning in the office wasn't working properly and it had gotten sweltering quickly.
Peter was down in San Diego for the day, talking to an executive of the firm they wanted to partner with. Apparently, they were golfing, Alex thought with an eye-roll. She could just imagine Peter smoosing on a golf course, wearing a pastel polo shirt and shorts. Actually, she couldn't imagine that at all.
For all the things she disliked about Peter, she didn't dislike Peter, and although he judged her, he was also her champion and she was not calculating enough to not feel loyalty because of it.
Despite all he was, there was something in her that was attracted to him, wanted to know what it was like to be with him—to be, for a short time, the sole focus of the intense connection he eluded to. The problem was that she didn't want a short-term thing. She wasn't jaded enough to buy what he was spouting, and even knowing what he was like, she knew she'd end up just like Lacey if she went down that road.
Grabbing her laptop, she sat down on the sofa and tucked her legs underneath her. She'd purposefully stayed off social media while in LA, not wanting to feel like she was missing out, but curiosity was getting the better of her and she felt decidedly unconnected today. Signing into Facebook, the stream of pictures and updates filled her screen. Scanning down the page, she saw what they were planning that night and Alex felt a twinge of concern that she was out in LA, all alone.
As she scanned through the newsfeed, she noted that Marco's icon lit up. He was online, which was weird for what would have been that time of night in London on a Friday. Alex froze for a moment. He would see her there too. She wondered if she should shut it down, but it would look like she was running away just because he'd come on. Feeling completely conflicted, she decided to not react in any way.
Sitting back, she noted her heart beating powerfully with nerves and her hands felt clammy. Why was she reacting this way? Maybe because every time they had any interaction it seemed to be some kind of blow up.
Hey, popped up on her screen. Alex bit her lip. He was making contact with her.
Hey yourself, she typed after a moment of further indecision.
The cursor blinked absently for a while, then the writing icon flashed up. He was writing something and Alex held her breath almost dreading what was to come, wondering if she was going to have her first online fight.
I hear you're in LA. He'd been talking about her. Why? Although it was an easy question to answer; it didn't really elude to what he wanted.
Yeah. Here for work. Not entirely sure when I'll be back. Why aren't you out getting trolleyed?
Didn't feel like it. Since when did he not feel like it? Alex grew suspicious.
The cursor blinked again.
I hope work is going well, he wrote after a long pause.
Going great. Got a new project. She certainly wasn't going to tell him about the hard position she'd been placed in for losing the Lush account to him and that Peter had thrown her a bone by letting her support him on what was his project. She wasn't going to whine about it, and Marco had been pretty clear when he'd stated he'd won it because he presented a better proposal. Disappointment still stung her.
I wish you were here. The message flashed up on the screen and Alex closed her eyes and put her hand over her mouth. This was where he wanted to go, she felt, the purpose of this conversation. Peter's words flashed through her mind in his crisp accent, 'He's trying to manipulate you'. Although she wanted to just shut the lid of the laptop and ignore the last statement, she couldn't. It would be cowardly and cruel.
So we can have another fight?
I'm not in the mood to fight.
Are you drunk?
A little.
Alex felt herself relax. It was actually easier chatting with him knowing he was drunk. It made things matter less. Then again, he was sober enough to work a computer and spell correctly—he couldn't be that drunk. Peter's warning flashed through her mind yet and again, and she dismissed it with annoyance.
What do you want, Marco?
;)
Alex closed her eyes again. He was frickin flirting with her. She wanted to strangle him. Alex stepped away from the computer and walked around the room, not quite knowing how to take this. She thought where he might be, typing away on his phone, maybe in a club somewhere, but then he'd said he wasn't in the mood to drink.
And what would he do if she was there, her mind asked without her permission. She knew exactly; she could even see the images. He'd kiss her, pull her too him and she'd feel pure excitement like she used to, and then she would fall right back in and they would go round two until they broke up again—hurt feelings, hurt pride and all spite.
If she gave in, he would just know that he could flirt his way back into her knickers whenever he wanted to. Groaning, she sat down again. She couldn't do this. Why couldn't he be out getting it on with some random girl? Why wasn't he with the blond English girl he'd taken to his sister's wedding? Why was he torturing her like this?
I'm at work. I have to go. Have a good weekend. It was a complete cop-out and she knew it, but she wasn't going to sit there and flirt with him. Why couldn't exes be clear and simple about it? We're not together anymore, so let it go. Move on.
Alex felt agitated in the tiny hotel room so she decided to go for a run, having adrenalin to burn and she didn't particularly care that it was too hot. She could always go for a swim after. Feeling a bit guilty, she dressed in her exercise gear and left the hotel. She should be working, but she was just too agitated to focus. Damn Marco for doing this to her.
* * *
Chapter 28:
* * *
The end of the LA trip came rather suddenly. Peter just stopped at her desk and said they were going back that evening. She even had a meeting in LA the following morning that she
had to cancel. Their departure was abrupt, apparently a development had occurred that needed to be discussed back home.
Truthfully, she wasn't sorry to leave. She missed her friends, her flat and even the mini Tesco down the street. LA was nice and interesting, but she'd enjoy it more as a tourist with company—someone she could go out and explore with, instead of this ongoing shuffle between office and hotel room, stuck with strange TV and completely unable to make a snack for herself. Even getting a measly tub of ice-cream was a big palaver and too much trouble. Peter either dined with the partners, the American manager or worked most evenings—not that she was sorry because it was a bit more than she wanted to manage, having all of his attention on her—because, although he didn't state it, she knew what he wanted.
From there it was a rush back to the hotel to pack her stuff and to meet Peter in the lobby in fifteen minutes. He was waiting when she got there and so was the taxi.
"You ready?”
"We're leaving in a hurry," she said as she pulled herself along the seat in the taxi to give him space to get in.
"There is a bit of showmanship in our sudden departure.”
Alex finally got it—this was a negotiation tactic deployed to make them worry. "So we will be back.”
"Undoubtedly.”
At the airport, they skipped the lines and the bustle of the check-in and retreated to the British Airways lounge, where check-in was conducted in a more comfortable setting, without queues. The lounge overlooked the tarmac of the runway and provided all sorts of drinks and snacks. Peter chose a whiskey and Alex guessed he was clocking off.
"Word on the street is that Marco D'Arth has won another account," Peter said as he leaned back in the lounge chair, holding his drink on the armrest with his fingertips. He watched her intensely, making her uncomfortable, even before the topic du jour was brought up. Alex felt jealousy and resentment flare through her again, but tried to keep calm. A flush was surely crawling up her skin right now and Peter was watching her close enough to notice. "I guess the Lush account was the making of him.” Alex could only sit there and take his I-told-you-so look. "I guess there is nothing holding him back now. And for the record, I didn't sabotage my own campaign.”
The Gamble (D'Arth Series Book 3) Page 17
