by Shel Stone
“She didn’t want to come,” Esme filled in.
“Not her kind of party,” Inns replied, not making nice by lying about it.
“It isn’t your kind of party either, so that works out.”
“When family throws a party, one has to avail oneself.”
“Poor Inns, you are always so set upon.” An urge to stroke his face flashed through her, but she wasn’t his to tease like he’d used to be. She’d used to love to tease him for how churlish he was.
There was an awkward silence that descended.
“You can’t let guys do this to you,” he finally said. “You look like hell.”
“Oh, thank you very much.” That was exactly what she wanted to hear from an ex. “You were one of those guys.”
“I never lied to you.”
How had they gotten into such heavy conversation? She didn’t want to talk about this.
“You have to be stronger than this,” he continued.
“Well, I’m not. This is what I am. I invest heavily in really shitty guys. It seems to be a trait of mine.” She didn’t want to look him in the eyes, because she was ashamed of how weak she’d been, how weak she still felt. Looking back, she couldn’t understand how she’d let herself get into that situation with Darius. And that was the worst of it. At no point had she ever thought of herself as weak. Now she was this new person she didn’t terribly like, and she just wanted her shine back.
And she was presently in threat of crying again, so she walked away. The last thing she needed was more tears, and worse, tears in front of Inns. The one who left her because she wasn’t good enough. All this probably justified his opinion of her quite nicely.
Chapter 26
INNS WATCHED HER GO, HER skinny arms wrapped tightly around her. The distress was clear on her form. That hadn’t been his intention, but someone needed to say something to her about the guys she was seeing.
Guilt washed over him for a moment, because he was part of the list. As much as he’d never intended to be, or had tried to deceive her in any way, he had left her behind when leaving had been an option for him. In fact, getting into a relationship hadn’t been his intention either. Esme had just come in and bowled him over. But he didn’t see that girl now. This was someone else. But there were echoes of her.
And now he’d made her cry, and he felt like a real shit. Leaving her like he had hadn’t been his proudest moment either. But the option was to let the relationship go on, or to cut it off before it became troublesome.
Then again, everything about Esme had been troublesome, from the very moment he’d met her. But in the end, he must have returned the favour. His intent had never been bad, but he’d left her and maybe it had even sent her into the arms of that shit, Darius Azmer. Of course he knew who he was. Rich, pretty boy without morals, history, or roots. No breeding.
Esme was gone out of sight and Inns was still stuck in this godawful party. That guy Quentin was apparently the life of the party, as if all had been waiting for him to come breathe life into them. Aggie was guarded, because apparently there was history between her and him. This was apparently the type of guy she was into. Inns supposed he was better than Darius Azmer. At least he was British.
Keeping an eye out, he watched for Esme. By the looks of her, she displayed some internal anguish, but it was hard to tell to what degree. How much did she hide and had he just sent her over the edge? It was always stressful talking to exes. Maybe he’d just made her situation worse. Not seeing her coming back was starting to worry him.
Placing his glass down, he went in search of her. No one particularly noted that he was leaving, not that he cared what these people thought. Out the front side of the house, her car was still there, so she hadn’t gone home, which made him wonder if he really had distressed her. He continued searching for her.
It was unlikely she’d gone to his and Annabel’s room, unless she was really unhinged. It was empty, which wasn’t surprising since Annabel had decided tonight was the perfect time for a wellness evening at one of the hotel spas. It was the perfect excuse for not to attending this soiree, but a lot harder to explain than a headache.
He found her in Aggie’s room, sitting in the dark. The shine under her eyes proved she’d been crying. Inns swore at himself, but also knew he’d said the things he felt needed to be said. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he trusted the advice Aggie gave her. Aggie had strange notions sometimes. She even seemed to be quite keen on Esme being with the gym monkey.
“Hey,” he said as he walked in, leaving the light off. It was a relief seeing her intact. “I was worried,” he said honestly. “You just come across as very fragile at the moment.” On the other hand, it was quite nice to be worried for someone. It occurred to him that he wasn’t normally.
“I am working on that.”
Now things felt awkward again. No point harping over the same things. “I hear you’ve done good things with your business. Creams and lotions.” He’d heard her ideas and business plan when she’d first thought of it.
“Yeah, it’s doing okay. How are things with your estate?”
“It’s still my father’s estate. In fact, they want me to join the foreign office.”
“Oh?” Esme said. It had been a while since he’d talked like this with her. They’d used to. “You don’t sound excited about it.”
“Go be a diplomat in some bumfuck place like Angola or Rangoon. No thanks.”
“I think Rangoon is actually called something else now.”
“Equally as attractive an option for spending my time, no matter what it’s called.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Inns shrugged. “Still a bit lost on that account. I seem to have these stop starts in my life, and now I’m at another stop. I can’t seem to settle on anything I particularly want to do.” He remained silent for a moment, bored by his own problems. “Why are you with that guy? He’s not right for you.”
“And that’s your opinion?” There were flashes of the old her, but then she’d fade.
“I do actually know you. You might not think so, but I do.”
“Because he’s easy. He doesn’t need anything from me. Because normally my relationships are hard, and yes, that included you.”
He knew what she was talking about. Their relationship had been challenging from the moment it started, but it had also been so sweet. A sweetness he didn’t have now, if he were honest. The desire that burned in his body, itched in his fingers, drove him to do things he promised himself he wouldn’t do, over and over again. In fact, it could be construed as a form of torture. “I’m sorry,” he finally said.
Esme shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t have to feel sorry. It’s over. It’s in the past. Your girlfriend seems nice.”
Without meaning to, a snort escaped him, because Annabel wasn’t nice. She was a bitch. Luckily, Esme didn’t push him, because he didn’t want to talk about Annabel with her. It felt... cheap. It was a strange notion, but he couldn’t describe it any other way. Maybe in a sense, he understood what Esme said about an easy relationship, because even though Annabel annoyed him on a fairly regular basis, it was a relationship where he wasn’t challenged or imposed on. Where he wasn’t really engaged, whereas with Esme... No, he refused to pursue the thought. “I hate seeing you like this,” he finally admitted.
“Like what?”
“Hurt.”
“You think it didn’t hurt when you left?”
“It feels like I did this to you.” Obviously, he hadn’t. Someone else had come in a wrecked her, and normally he was really happy for girls to bear the consequences of stupid decisions, but this was his Esme. The one he’d installed safe and sound in his memories.
“This wasn’t about you.”
“If I hadn’t left...”
“You wanted to leave. I think that was the whole point.”
“I had to.” Silence descended again. He didn’t know how to explain. “We don’t belong together,” h
e finished more quietly. “Our lives were so very far apart, it would be hard to see how we could merge them without making serious compromises—compromises which would start to grate. That grating would lead to resentment. Some things just can’t work out.”
In all this, he’d moved closer. He wanted her to understand that he’d done it for the best, to save them heartache. But his saving her had ended up with her devastation. He’d left her alone and someone had come in and decimated her. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“Please don’t,” she said, shaking her head. Her eyes were glassy again.
“I actually meant for you not to get hurt. I utterly failed.”
“I’m not your responsibility.”
She might say that, but he couldn’t feel it. She was his responsibility because you were responsible for the people you loved. And for him, the people he loved formed a really small circle, two of which were his parents, but only one of the circle really knew him. In their time together, he’d hid nothing about himself, mostly because he’d known the relationship couldn’t be.
The scent of her surrounded him, that scent he knew, that scent that drove the deepest part of him—parts that had been asleep for the last year or so. Granted, this felt painful, but it always had with her, like little electrodes straight into his heart, current forcing it to beat.
Why was it that being near her was always so intoxicating? It lulled his senses, honed his attention, but at the same time, he felt as if he was floating. The hair on his arms rose.
This was dangerous, much too dangerous, but he couldn’t make himself back away. It felt raw. She hurt and he didn’t. Something in him was utterly elated to be right here. Her much too close. Her eyes so large and glassy.
Whatever defences he tried to put between them never really worked. Nothing worked on her. He could feel her breath, almost see the air blowing over her lips.
Was this what it felt like to be damned? So impossibly sweet?
All he could see was her lips. All he could think about were her lips, so soft and beautiful, and it would be heaven to kiss her. A strong hit of the most powerful drug in the world. That was what she was to him, a drug.
The powerful pumping of his heart hurt, and every nerve in his body called to her. He shouldn’t be doing this. It would be falling right back into what he’d worked so hard to escape.
With a snort, he smiled wryly. “You know how many times I just wanted to get on a plane and come back?”
She blinked but didn’t say anything.
Every day was the answer. Had been the answer. Eventually it had faded, the sharp ache of longing dulling, until the time he could be distracted. But early in the morning, when he had little control, she was there.
“Inns,” she said softly and that hurt too. Her eyes were searching his. Why did it feel like he was starving?
She came to him, or he came to her, he couldn’t tell, and his eyes swam closed, feeling every nuance of the kiss. The first touch, the warmth, softness. The gentle press of her lips to his. The taste of her seeped into his mind.
It had been so long since he’d felt this sweetness, this all-encompassing absorption, where there was nothing in his mind other than her and the sweetness of kissing her. Of being with her.
His hand at the back of her neck, urged her closer, deepening the kiss. The length of her body pressed to his. The warm skin of her thigh. He was so hard it hurt. Everything hurt, and she was the only thing that could alleviate it.
The gentle touch of her tongue to his urged him deeper into her mouth. His hands at her waist feeling the solidness of her.
There was no denying that he was rock hard. Somehow his body recognised her the way it did no one else.
Her arms around his neck held him close, her breasts pressed to him. The kiss evolving, fusing them, the influence of it spreading into his entire body.
How was it they could come together like this and lose the distinction between her body and his. They just melted into one. And drowned in her, in the feel of her, the taste of her, the scent. Every sense was taken over with her.
His hands felt the bare skin of her thigh at his side, drawing her to him. His cock pressing into the ultimate sweetness. It sobered him and something in his mind reared. With aching regret he drew away, relinquishing her lips, while his forehead rested to hers.
All he wanted was to be inside her. His cock was so painfully hard, so urgently wanting her. Everything hurt.
Their ragged breaths mixed and all he wanted was to lose himself in another kiss, but he would truly lose himself. “I can’t,” he said, not quite able to make his hands let her go.
With eyes closed, he felt her kiss his neck, felt her body to his. This was wrong. It had always been wrong, but he just couldn’t resist. He’d never had control over himself around her.
His body was screaming at him to relent, to give in, because it had waited so patiently to feel like this again. The truth was that he never did with anyone but her.
But that was the point. There was someone. He wasn’t free to do this. What the fuck was wrong with him? No only had he done this to Annabel, but he’d led Esme on. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. My intentions have no power with you.”
Gently he pushed her away, and hated to see what he saw in her eyes, the look of him pushing her away again.
“What were your intentions?” she asked, looking so hurt that he wanted to rush to her again, to wipe that expression from her eyes. The exact urge that had got him into this in the first place, because all he wanted was to wrap himself up in her body and forget everything. To make her forget everything. Because he knew he had the ability to.
What had his intentions been? “To see that you were okay.”
“Really, because it seemed more like you want to mess with me.”
“No, my intention has never been to mess with you, but no matter what I do, I seem to end up doing just that. You literally are my kryptonite.”
“Are you superman, then?” She was angry and she had every right to be. He’d come here, had sought her out. All he’d managed to do was fuck up this situation even more. And for all intents and purposes, even though not in entirety, he had cheated. A kiss like that couldn’t be explained any other way. There was nothing innocent about the kiss, or how he’d felt, or that he’d just about come in his pants grinding on her.
“I’m sorry. We should stay away from each other.” It was a lame thing to say, but it was also the truth. He couldn’t be trusted around her.
At the same time, he didn’t want to leave her, but he had to. Nothing could be gained by staying, other than him digging this hole deeper.
Chapter 27
SAMARA WAS DRIVING TO THE spa where she was meeting Cheyenne when her phone rang. It was Persephone, so she pressed answer on her car’s integrated screen. “Hi Persephone,” she said brightly.
“Actually, it’s Tristan. I’ve stolen Percy’s phone because I don’t have your number.”
“Oh,” Samara said, feeling a pleasant tingle of nervousness. It had been a long time since she’d felt that about a guy. Now he had to state why he called. She had some idea. Men typically had a reason for calling.
“I was wondering if you would be interested in dinner some night,” he said. Not one to beat around the bush. He waited for her answer.
“That might be nice. Where did you have in mind?”
“I think perhaps a restaurant. I understand Torrevija is very nice.” It was the most mentioned restaurant in town at the moment.
“I believe it is.” It had opened up in the time she’d been shying away from all social life, so she hadn’t been. “Perhaps we should explore it together.”
“I know it’s impromptu, but how is your schedule tomorrow night?”
Some would say to reject a man’s first suggestion, but Samara was tired of games of any kind. “I do believe my schedule is clear.” Should she mention that she was a little choosy about social occasions at the moment, but recogni
sed it was an attempt at creating an impression with him, and it sat badly with her right now. If he was in any way looking for someone other than what she was, they were better off establishing that at the first opportunity.
“Wonderful. I will pick you up, unless you prefer to meet me there?”
“I can meet you there,” she said. A smile spread across her lips and she felt a little foolish being so pleased that a man was asking her out. Not that others hadn’t tried, but this was the first time she’d considered saying yes. Really, the first man who’d entered her sphere where she felt there was potential, and one who wasn’t afraid of Hassan. “Until then,” she said finally and hung up.
Hope and apprehensiveness competed inside her, but she dismissed the apprehensiveness. Being a coward was never something she’d entertained, and she refused to now. Yes, Hassan had hurt her and he’d been intent on doing it, but it didn’t mean she had to take his behaviour as a reflection on herself. Easier said than done, she had to admit. Pride helped.
Pulling into the spa attached to one of the finer resorts, she decided she wouldn’t tell the girls about this development, because it would put too much attention and pressure on it. They would analyse and probe, and this was something she wished to keep to herself.
*
The maitre’d smiled broadly as Samara walked in. It pleased her that whatever damage Hassan had done to her standing had melted away, and she had to admit that dating Tristan Barensteen would not hurt her in the least. It wasn’t the reason she was here, however.
Tristan was standing in the bar in a neat suit. There was something so very refined about him, something Hassan could never achieve. Centuries of refinement showed in the man. From what she understood, his family dated back to feudal times. But in all the old families, you got a certain number of unstable characters, and it seemed that Joseph Barensteen had been one of them.
Saying that, Hassan did treat his children quite roughly in many ways, being overbearing and even bullying. Perhaps it was a weakness in character in some that came with wealth and power. It took a very special man to handle such privilege with grace.