Game of Love (36 page)

“And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”
~Friedrich Nietzsche

he rain rattled against the car’s roof. The windows were streaked with droplets that in turn picked up the city lights. Tish was on the phone with Wesley, while Andre focused on the world outside.

Gemma didn’t know what had happened between Tish and Andre. Whatever the reason, it was making her nauseous. She would remain calm for now. She’d get to the bottom of this once she could ask privately. But the itch to understand was too much to bear.

She pulled out her mobile and sent him a text.

“
What was that? With Tish
,” she wrote.

He studied his mobile then typed, “
Her idea of leaving the press with no doubt.
”

“
I see
,” she wrote.

“
No, you don’t. Why are you hiding us? When they win, we lose,
” he wrote, then dropped his mobile in his coat pocket.

She read his note a few more times, then glanced at him. She wanted to go to him, but how could she? If she had told Tish the truth, that kiss would never have happened. And what if the truth came out? What was the worst that could happen?

I’m sorry
, she mouthed.

He didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the streets.

Her heart sank. This was why. This was why she didn’t want a relationship. She hadn’t asked for this. She hadn’t wanted to fall in love, but it had happened.

Love?

Heat spread across her cheeks. She continued watching him, the seconds ticking away.

“Wesley’s all over it,” Tish said as she hung up. “He’s calling his contacts to give them the scoop that there is no scoop after all.” She studied both of them. “Did I miss something?”

“No, just exhausted,” Gemma said.

A few moments later, Andre sat up. “There’s the hotel now. I’m going to stay away for the next few days. Let’s not give the media more raw meat.”

Not a question. A statement. She wanted to argue, disagree, but she couldn’t. That was his plan, wasn’t it? He was forcing her hand. He knew she would not say anything in front of Tish. He was testing her. She had lied about them, even to her best friend. She was left without options.

“But you will come to the matches, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Andre, look,” Tish said, pointing to the hotel entrance. “Paparazzi are camped out in front of your hotel.”

“Okay,” he said, and without a second thought, stepped out and closed the door.

Gemma watched him walk away. No kiss. No hug. Not the slightest touch.

Once home, Gemma tried Andre’s cell, but it went directly to voicemail. Gemma’s head sagged. Why wasn’t he answering his phone? She had marginalized their relationship, but knew she could clean it up. They would talk and all would be okay again. Because that’s what they had; they could fix anything.

She tried again, with the same result. Had he shut off his mobile?

He had not been given a choice. He was told to play along in the games she had been party to for nearly five years now.

I am an idiot
.

At midnight, Andre went to the hotel gym, hoping a good run on the treadmill would release the tension in his neck. It took forty-five minutes for the headache to finally exit his skull. Sweat dripped off his body, his shirt was drenched, and his veins pumped with blood.

What was he to Gemma, he wondered? What was more important to her? Their relationship, or some obscure concept of privacy? He could have been a flowerpot there. Why even invite him, if that’s what she was going to do?

He ran faster. The machine whined under his thundering clip.

How could he have been so wrong? He had been willing to do anything to make it work. Now, he wondered how he could have been so off base. She wasn’t ready. He wondered if she ever would be.

Almost finished
, he assured his legs. His thighs and calves were numb. His lungs were unable to take in deep breaths, only shallow, small gasps of oxygen through gritted teeth. Pure adrenaline and momentum pushed him on.

The treadmill’s display showed thirty seconds remaining.

The music that blared through his headphones was now overpowered by his thudding heartbeat in his throat.

Sixty minutes
flashed on the display. He slammed the
Stop
button and tumbled off.

Andre collapsed, one knee on the floor, head bowed. Sweat ran down his face. Eventually, he summoned the energy to stand and walk back to his room for a much-needed shower.

Under the steaming water he wondered where their relationship would go from here. Maybe a few days apart would clarify what she wanted. He had a full day ahead with the DCI. He’d spend Saturday and Sunday investigating. Monday was Gemma’s first match. Maybe by then she would know what she wanted.

He stepped out of the shower, haphazardly dried himself, and wrapped a towel around his waist.

The next move is hers,
he thought as he stepped out of the bathroom.

“Dream as if you’ll live forever. Live as if you’ll die today.”
~James Dean

he bathroom door opened. Gemma straightened, and reminded herself to breathe.

Andre stepped out of the bathroom with a large towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still wet, and droplets of water rolling off his chest, arms, and back. Her heartbeat quickened.

He stopped dead in his tracks and glanced up, registering her presence for the first time. “How’d you get in?”

She rose, adjusted her skirt, then found the strength to move toward him. “I have a card key. The room is under my name.”

“What are you doing here?”

She stopped in front of him and peered into his eyes. “Today was not a good day. I wanted to–”

“What?” he asked. “What did you want?” His eyes hardened. “Are you allowed to talk to me now? Are we safe enough?”

“I wanted to apologize,” she said, then placed her hands on his chest. Momentarily her breath caught when she touched his wet, hard body.

“Gem, apologize only if you don’t plan on repeating the same mistake. I don’t know what game we’re playing and somehow I doubt you do either. What are we doing? Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Can I be allowed to not know?” She stepped into him. “I want to be with you. When we’re together, alone, everything is perfect.” Her body met his and warm jolts ran down from her navel to her knees. “You asked me to live in the moment. I’m trying.”

His eyes softened

They gazed deep into each other’s eyes. Their bodies pinned, breathing in harmony, their chests rising in unison. Warm water dripped from his body onto hers.

He ran his wet hand through her hair. “This will not end well.”

“No, you’re wrong. Tonight ends well. We’ll figure out tomorrow when tomorrow comes.” She kissed him, tasting his lips again.

She wanted–needed–everything of his. His lips, his chin, his neck, his touch. She slid her hands over his chest then along his back. Her nails raked his skin, causing a slight groan to escape his mouth.

He tugged off her jacket, exposing a white tank top. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She kissed and nibbled his chest while her fingers teased the skin just above the towel. They stumbled against the wall. His lips burnt into hers. He grabbed the back of her thigh, lifting it, bringing her tight into him. While the other hand slid under her shirt, over her breast.