The Gem (D'Arth Book 4)

by Camille Oster

  "Hey, there's Matt," Jess pointed out. "Let's say hello." They'd met Matt a while ago at one of the Walkabout bars. He was nice enough when he was sober—currently sitting with a group and Shay thought she vaguely knew one of the girls.

  "Hey, girls," Matt said. "I see you made the pilgrimage."

  "Wouldn't miss it. Not on a lovely day like this."

  "Join us. A guy we know is on the Kiwi boat."

  "Cool."

  "Yeah, they practiced really hard for this. Yeah right, they just drank a lot."

  "Sounds like my kind of sport," Shay said, sitting down. While Jess chatted with Matt, Shay checked her phone to see if there were any texts from Peter. She told herself she was just checking Facebook, but she was looking to see if Peter had sent her anything. They chatted most evenings now. He would flirt; she would tell him she was too smart to fall for it. He'd said he was trying to woo her. That had made her crack up. You couldn't fault him on persistence; he'd even offered to take her on a trip—Paris, Vegas, Hawaii—anywhere she wanted to go. He'd offered dinner, a movie, a drive to Brighton in his new car, amazing sex. Every evening, they would banter back and forth.

  On one level, she really enjoyed it. He was smart, confident, utterly unapologetic and even subversively wicked. On the other hand, there was something in the back of her mind worrying that he was getting to her—working on her to get what he wanted. But she suspected his interest only lay in her because she was resisting—denying him something he wanted. She'd even said so and he'd responded that she enjoyed making him suffer—because apparently he was so pent up and tense he didn't know what to do with himself. It was also true that images of him in bed, writhing with desire, made butterflies flutter through her stomach. She'd even had a naughty dream or two about him exactly in that state.

  "You're Shay, aren't you?" a voice said and Shay looked up, seeing a Kiwi girl with brown hair, tied up in a neat ponytail.

  "Yes," Shay responded with uncertainty as she tried to place this girl. She looked familiar, but Shay, for the life of her, couldn't place her.

  "I'm Alex," she said, standing just a couple of feet away in jeans and a dark green shirt. Of course, the suit girl—Peter's friend—the one that had come to see him at his apartment.

  "Hi," Shay said. She still didn't quite know the history of their relationship, but she knew Alex meant something to Peter, even though she got the feeling they had never been an item. "How are you?" How was Peter was the more pressing question, but she restrained herself from asking.

  "Good. Can we have a chat?" she said, indicating moving further away.

  "Sure," Shay said, getting up and walking after Alex until she reached a tree and turned back to face her.

  "You do know that Peter's in love with you," Alex said in a tone that wasn't necessarily friendly. Shay froze in shock, opening her mouth to say something, but nothing come out. Immediately she wondered if Alex was jealous, or disapproving. Maybe she had read them all wrong, and one of Peter's ex's was coming out of the woodwork. And love, really. She obviously didn't know Peter well.

  "I … " Shay went to argue, not quite knowing what angle to take. Love was so not it. They were just flirting a bit.

  "And you're drip feeding him; giving him just enough to hang on."

  "I … " Shay started again.

  "We both know that Peter is an utter mess, not to mention an arse, and fundamentally unable to carry on a relationship. It would be an utter disaster and I commend you for being smart enough to stay away. Others haven't. I've seen him do awful things to girls—like leave the country just to get away from him, because once he has you, he knows it, and he has no qualms about torturing you for it. But with you, he's actually more serious and you should run a mile."

  Shay blinked repeatedly, not really knowing what to make of the accusation, or whatever it was. "I thought you were his friend."

  "Peter doesn't really do friends," Alex stated, putting her hand up to the tree. "He takes what he wants and walks over anyone to get it."

  Nothing Alex was saying was a surprise; Shay knew this about him. Somehow, she had just gotten sucked in, enjoying the banter and the parrying. A jumble of emotions accosted her. She felt ashamed for letting herself be drawn in, but also hurt that he was like this, when she knew he had an incredibly sweet side—when he wanted to. She also didn't know if she could trust this girl, but it did come across like Alex was trying to do her a favour.

  "Look," Alex continued. "I think he is genuinely a little in love with you, but he's an utter disaster and you're being cruel by stringing him along. Either you go with it, and deal with whatever falls out, or you should just let him go—stop dealing with him all together."

  Shay felt both admonished and validated. Her logical mind agreed completely with Alex and what she was saying. It was the reason she hadn't come running whenever he asked, but she'd been engaging in a bit of flirting and banter, she'd admitted. She'd never for a minute suspected he was actually in love with her.

  "I know Peter can draw you in, like a friggin Venus Fly Trap. It is what he does. But in this case, don't be cruel. He's not actually very good at dealing with emotions—trust me, I've been at the burning end of that stick. In your case, because he's developed feelings for you, it's an all or nothing thing." Alex looked at her with sympathy. Shay felt a maelstrom of things flicking through her head. A voice in her head rejoiced at the idea that he was in love with her, but it was competing with others that said 'Oh shit, he is in love with her'. Finally, Shay nodded, indicating that she understood Alex's warning. "Sorry, I just thought you should know," Alex said before walking away.

  Suddenly, Shay felt cold. The sun was still shining and the crowd was gearing up with excitement ahead of the race start, but Shay felt chilly. Closing her eyes, she stroked her forehead, wondering what kind of trouble she'd gotten herself into. She didn't want to be cruel. She actually quite liked Peter, even for what he was, but recognised that it might be him working his magic on her. The problem was that she just didn't know. Peter was as far from a straightforward guy.

  Returning to the group, she stood with the rest of them as the race started. Shay could barely see through the crowd, but she didn't really care either. Everyone yelled, egging on their team as the race built up speed. Shay just felt like she was hurting. And she was being cruel.

  The phone beeped when she lay in bed. She knew it was him even without looking, ready for their evening’s parrying. Tucking her hands under her head, she let the phone be as it beeped for attention. She needed to stop stringing him along. Alex had been right: she either needed to stop or to go with it, and going with it would absolutely involve heartbreak. It may also involve Peter being cruel to her, like she knew he was capable of.

  Shay closed her eyes. He was waiting for her to respond. Another beep came through, and Shay still ignored it. This was awful; she hated doing it, but it was for the best.

  A third beep came, then it was silent. Shay felt a tear slide over the ridge of her nose. She had to do this—to be strong. Peter was just such a mess.

  Where were you last night? The text came through in the morning as Shay was checking her emails. For a moment, she considered ignoring him again, but she wasn't a kid, who would just cut someone off with a cold shoulder.

  I was here.

  Why didn't you respond?

  She froze for a moment, not knowing what to say. I think we need to stop talking.

  Why?

  Because we have this weird thing going and it isn't doing either of us any good.

  Nothing came through for a while.

  Then stop being weird and come over.

  Shay smiled briefly, but felt really sad. I can't. You're not the guy for me. You're not what I 'm looking for.

  Who says you have to be looking for something?

  Because I am.

  The cursor blinked accusingly as he considered what she was saying.

  Stop looking. Just be with me.

  Shay smiled.
These were the times when he was sweet—when the heart was more willing than the body was capable of. He did tend to commit to more than he could do.

  Careful what you wish for, Peter. You don't do couples and would be miserable, and then both of us. You're happy with your life, Peter. You relish it just the way it is.

  I miss you.

  And you'll get over it. Probably tomorrow. Aren't we better ending this on the good note, with the sweet potential intact, rather than the horror show it would be if I actually came over there?

  Come on, Shay, Peter texted and Shay felt her heart twist. This felt like a break-up—but they were never a couple. Maybe this was just her mind reading into things—imaging hurt there when it was just really annoyance on his part for not getting what he wanted.

  Good bye, Peter.

  Chapter 27

  * * *

  The apartment was quiet as Peter slipped a coffee capsule into the machine. The machine shrieked as it made his coffee. The sun was bright, sparkling off the river in the distance, making the city look serene for once. It wasn't how Peter felt though. Truthfully, he wasn't quite sure how he felt. He wasn't happy.

  Shay had effectively ended their—. Actually he didn't know what to call it. It wasn't a relationship. Neither was it a friendship, so he didn't know why this sat so badly with him. She'd said she was keeping their potential intact. Perhaps potential was the right word, but potential indicated a prelude to something more. That was the part that sat uncomfortably. He wanted a little more, as in having her there, in his bed. But more in terms of the expectation of forever coupledom scared the hell out of him—socialising with couples, wedding and kids, miserable commitment, and your life never being your own again. That was the part that terrified him. That aside, he wanted a little more. He just wanted her there.

  He'd always been the one who controlled the nature and duration of a relationship. He wanted just enough for his needs and nothing more. There had even been odd points where he was curious enough to playing house, but only for a days. But whatever this was with Shay was different. It was unlike anything he’d experienced and it had him caught in a trap. He didn't want to move ahead, but he needed to not move backward. Not that it was an issue; Shay had put an end to it.

  Pouring the coffee in a ceramic travel mug, he headed down to the garage and set off for work. For once, he didn't feel like going, but he didn't want to be home either. Nothing seemed to suit him at the moment—his own skin being one of the things that didn't sit right.

  His day at work had been unsatisfying, as had the dinner afterwards with one of the board members. Again the apartment was quiet and cool, the warmth of the day long gone. His thoughts immediately turned to Shay. It was no use pretending that he didn't understand her decision, because he did. He was perfectly able to see it from her perspective, but that didn't mean her decision worked for him. Normally, he wouldn't care beyond his own needs, but that was what made her different—he did care. It was the reason he didn't force her address out of her agency, tear over there and force his will.

  He wanted her to come to him. Without a doubt, he could force the issues, mesmerise and draw her back, but for some odd reason, he felt that being honourable was important. Also a new emotion for him. Making her come had no value. Having her come to him, seek him out, accept him, sent curious feelings stealing through him.

  Cracking a beer, he walked over to the couch and sat down. He'd always thought it was the accident that had shunted him so off kilter, but maybe it was her. He should be running a mile. Maybe the fact that he wasn't capable of doing so was the core problem. He was stuck, unable to turn away from this.

  Picking up his phone, he sent her a text, knowing it was beneath his pride. This was the behaviour girls had done to him when he'd cut them off, and he’d always admonished them for not showing pride. Peter snorted at how low he'd sunk. All those girls who'd wished he'd get a taste of their own medicine would probably be satisfied now, as his phone remained stubbornly silent.

  Another day passed. The sun shone, but grey, drizzly weather would have suited his mood better. Food didn't do it and even the thought of getting some random woman to come over was unappetising. All he seemed capable of doing was brooding.

  Dark had settled over the city and Peter was still at work, doing nothing. He should go down at the pub across the road, hang out with the people from work. Alex had teased him about being in love. He was something, and it sucked. Whatever he did, he didn't seem able to undo this awful state. He was barely eating, sleep was a mess, and he couldn't truly focus on anything. The worst part was that there was no end in sight.

  "You look like shit, Dunham," Mr. Casov said. Peter hadn't noticed him approaching, having been too distracted thinking of his own problem. "How's it going with the Shanghai resources?"

  "I've put the proposal to them. Waiting to hear their response."

  "Let's not drag it on. Sorted that shit you needed to?"

  Peter smiled wryly. "Still working on that part."

  Casov studied him for a moment. "Don't let it get the better of you." Peter wished he could say something like nothing got him down for long, but he wasn't sure he could do that now. This had truly got its grip on him and he couldn't shake it. "Sort it. You're no good to me like this."

  Peter hadn't realised his subdued state had been so obvious, but this was the second time Casov had commented on it. Sighing, Peter watched as Casov strode away. All the defences he'd build had crumbled, leaving him stripped and vulnerable.

  Finding nothing else to do, he returned home, knowing he was unable to sit still. He settled on having a shower and sought comfort from the warm water, but it only made him think of her. Thoughts of her skin and body drove him out of his mind. His mind was enslaved and it was cruel being left in this state on his own—in love. Peter closed his eyes, feeling the water run over his lips, aching to touch something more substantial than water. This wasn't a state he'd ever wished to find himself in, but it had snuck up on him and his will was nothing against its power.

  Returning to the couch, he sat down. He didn't feel like dressing, instead stayed wrapped in the fluffy dressing gown as he lay down on the couch. He should be turning the TV on, but he didn't feel like watching anything. His mind wouldn't release him to find a modicum of peace.

  Suddenly, he just had to know she was there—even if she refused to acknowledge him; it would sooth him to know that his message would engage with her mind. He picked up his phone.

  Shay, he texted. He didn't know what else to say, and her name had enough meaning.

  Turning to his side as he lay on the couch, putting the phone next to him, before changing his mind and picking it up again. I can't do this.

  Do what?

  Peter's pulse surged. She was there. He had her back, allowed access to her, tenatively. Not doing this, he wrote.

  The cursor blinked. Peter, please don't.

  I don't have a choice. I can't do the alternative.

  Just move on. You're only doing this because I've denied you.

  Then please, please, don't deny me, because I can't handle feeling like this. I'm utterly stuck and nothing but you will release me.

  If I do, I might get stuck in your stead.

  Peter closed his eyes and smiled tightly. I can't wish that on you. This was a change in him. In the past, he wouldn't have cared what the fall out had been to others, provided he came out intact, blaming them for not having control of their own feelings—blaming them for trying to manipulate him. The two concepts battled inside him. He wanted to manipulate her, get the relief he needed, but he also had to stand by his own stance on the subject, which absolved her of any responsibility for the state he had gotten himself into. Bye, Shay.

  Placing his phone down, he turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. It actually felt a little better now that he was taking responsibility for his own state. He might not have invited this, but it wasn't her fault either. Quite a pickle he'd got himself in
to. Surely it would end at some point.

  Chapter 28

  * * *

  It wasn't cold, but Shay still put a jacket over her uniform. She felt self-conscious traveling on the tube with it on display. The new job was nice and she was settling in. She suspected they would make her contract permanent, and she wouldn't mind working there throughout her duration in London.

  Standing on the tube platform, her thoughts turned to Peter. He'd seemed so down when he'd texted and she wondered whether the good-bye he'd said was supposed to be permanent. The idea sent a small panic through her. She'd always said that was what she wanted, but now that the possibility was true, she had trouble accepting it.

  But how could it be completely past tense with them if he was in love with her. It had been the most ridiculous notion when Alex had said it and Shay hadn't entirely believed her, until Peter had confirmed that he was stuck with feelings he didn't want. That was the whole point though: he didn't want to have feelings for her. He was stuck, looking for a way to move on, and he obviously believed she could exorcise them for him.

  He truly sounded miserable and Shay hated hearing it. What she wanted was to imagine Peter, out there, doing his thing, being a complete bastard and happy as a clam doing it. But that wasn't his reality right now. He was stuck and missing her. The thought sent shivers all down her body. Their uninhibited night in Bodrum returned to her, making her closer her eyes against the onslaught on desire shooting through her body.

  There was no denying that she wanted him. She almost craved him, but he was all round bad for her. If she went to him, he would use her to get past whatever it was that had him captured, until he was free, when he would melt away. She'd told him that coming to him would put her at risk of getting stuck in the emotions that had him. It was like giving the most unreliable person in the world the ammunition to destroy her. Going to him would be completely irresponsible, but saying that, the way she was feeling, she had to wonder if it wasn’t already too late. She thought of him every day, waited with anticipation for him to text and the idea of him suffering sent a riot of emotions through her.