Hewitt: Jagged Edge Series #1 (22 page)

~****~

It had been two weeks since I heard from Peter. I erased his number from my contacts, threw out his t-shirt that I wore to keep him close to me. I even canceled the membership to Maximum Capacity. The only thing I couldn't get rid of was the nights I spent thinking of him as I cried myself to sleep. Each day was getting easier. I only caught myself thinking about him occasionally instead of every minute. The new shipment of artwork my parents sent from Paris was keeping me busy as well. Every day was the same. I'd get up, get ready for work, work all day, get home late, and go to bed. Once in a while I would change it up and take a run around Central Park. I really needed to find a different gym. Even though running in the park kept me in shape, it did nothing for my social life.

Going over the invoices from the new shipment, I hear the bell chime from the front door. Brie had left to run some errands so I knew I was the only one in the gallery. Pushing from my seat, I headed to the front to see who was here. Even though the gentleman's back was facing me, I knew exactly who it was.

"Pierre, I thought I made it perfectly clear that I didn't want you near me," I said, trying my best to stay calm.

"I remember what you said," he said as he began approaching my safe area. "I don't know what you've heard about me, but I think it's only fair that I be given the chance to defend myself."

"Say what you need to say, Pierre, then you should leave," I advised nervously.

"I told you about the girl that I fell in love with during college and the rape charges her parents tried to place on me," he started as I watched him walk closer to me. "I didn't tell you about the other girls because they took back their claims against me shortly after. I have never forced myself on a woman, Lilly, and I certainly wouldn't drug you. You need to believe me."

He was in my space, only inches from my body. Cupping his hands on my cheeks, I could feel my body begin to submit to his touch. The way he was looking at me made me believe he was telling the truth. As he lowered his lips to mine, I should have stopped the kiss, but I couldn't. All I wanted was to feel something else besides the emptiness that had consumed me over the past two weeks. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I pulled him closer, needing to feel more of him. His hands slipped down my waist to the globes of my ass where he rested them as he lifted me from the floor. I could feel the heat of his erection pulsating against my sex.

I was so totally consumed by his kiss that I hadn't realized we were heading to my office until my ass felt the cold smooth surface of my desk. I knew whatever was going to happen needed to stop. Trying to break free, I moaned, "I can't do this, Pierre."

His hand gripped my hair as he pulled my head back, exposing the curve of my neck. "I need to have you Lilly. You're all I think about," he said breathlessly.

Before I could maneuver away from him, he sets me on the floor spinning my body so that my chest was pressed against my desk. Holding me down with his hand against my back, he forced my arm back and held it firmly against the small of my back. With his other hand, he pulled my free arm I had tucked underneath me, and joined it with the other. As I fought to get away, his hand gripped my wrists tighter.

"Pierre, please let me go," I pleaded, trying to wiggle free.

"Not just yet, amour," he whispered softly in my ear.

I could feel his free hand on my thigh, pushing the hem of my skirt up, exposing my naked ass. The warmth of his hand began to slide between my legs, where I could feel his fingers moving the material of my panties to the side. As much as I didn’t want this, I knew that I was wet. There was a slight tug, and I knew that he had just torn my panties from my body, leaving me bare for him. I shut my eyes and pleaded with him. "Please, no, Pierre."

I began to frantically move, but it was no use. He was so much stronger than I was. Hearing the sound of his zipper, I once again cry, "No, please stop."

"I know what you want, Lilly," he panted, pushing harder on my wrists to control my movements. "Soon..."

Feeling my stomach begin to churn, I felt the pressure against my hands begin to ease. I tried to push my body away from the desk, but instead I found I could no longer move. My shoulders were burning with pain and my wrists felt as though they were broken in half. I could feel my heart beating faster than it ever had. I tried again to push my body from the desk. Stumbling to the door, I heard the sound of grunts and moans. The only person I saw was Peter. He was lying on the floor, holding his hand across his side. Running to him, I knelt beside him to see that his face was beginning to show signs of bruising and there was a small cut above his right eye.

"Peter," I sobbed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Help me up," he said, trying to stand.

I helped him get to his feet while taking a better look at him. His hand was still clutching his side. Looking down I could see that he had more than the bruising on his face. He was holding his side because he was trying to stop the blood that was seeping through his t-shirt. Moving his hand, I slowly lifted his blood soaked shirt. The material clung to his body, causing him to wince in pain. "I have to see, Peter," I said softly.

Peter looked up at me and placed his blood-covered hand on my cheek. He didn't have to say anything for me to know that he was sorry. Placing my hand over his, I gave him a comforting look. Resuming the task at hand, I continued to lift his shirt to see what the damage was to his side. The blood was so thick. I knew for sure that the cut was deep. Tearing the sleeve from my blouse, I held it to the wound. The cut on his side was about six inches long. It wasn't as bad as I thought, but he would still most likely need stitches.

"Hold this here. I'm going to call 9-1-1," I said, looking at his pain-stricken face.

"No, Lilly, I'll be fine. Grab my phone for me. It's in my back pocket," he asked.

Reaching around to his backside, I pulled his cell from his pocket and put it in his free hand. With a swipe and a few touches to the screen, he held it to his ear and waited for someone to answer. "Sly, it’s Peter. I've been hurt. Get the team together and meet me at the shop."

~****~

I don't know how I managed to do it, but I got Peter to the car. Brie still hadn't come back to the gallery by the time we left. I needed to call her to let her know what happened. Peter advised me what to share with her. I couldn't understand what the secret was about. Even though I didn't see what happened, I was pretty sure Pierre did this to him. He was the only other person at the gallery.

This whole thing could have been avoided if I hadn't told Josh that he didn't need to watch the gallery anymore. He was reluctant to leave, but my yelling at him and threatening to call the police must have convinced him. Had he still been parked across the street, he would have noticed Pierre entering the gallery.

Cop was no longer perched in front of my door either. I told him the same thing yesterday that I told Josh. Peter must have known what I did, because as soon as we got to the door, he said, "You shouldn't have forced my guys to leave."

"Yeah, well you should have called me," I responded, taking my keys from my purse. This whole thing could have been avoided if he would have just contacted me, instead of making me worry about where he was and if anything bad happened to him.

Entering the condo, I helped Peter get settled on the couch. Turning from him once I knew he was as comfortable as he could be, I headed to the bathroom to see what I could find in order to patch him up. Returning with some gauze and tape, and a bowl filled with antibacterial soap and water, I sat beside him to assess the damage to his side. As I began cleaning the blood from his wound, I couldn't understand why he was being so stubborn about going to the hospital. The hospital was way more equipped to take care of him than I was.

Looking over to him with concern, I said, "Peter, you really need to go to the hospital. This wound needs stitches."

"Let me worry about that. Do you have nylon thread and a needle?" he asked.

"I don't have nylon thread, Peter. I might have a needle, though," I said.

"How about dental floss?" he asked.

Nodding, I got up and walked back to the bedroom to gather what he wanted. There was a bottle of vodka sitting on the coffee table when I returned. I could see that he drank about a quarter of the contents. If he planned on stitching himself up, he needed to stop drinking; otherwise he wouldn’t be able concentrate on what he was doing.

After he took another swig from the bottle, I pulled it from his hand. "Peter, if you continue to drink like that, you aren't going to be much good stitching yourself up."

"I'm not going to do it, Lilly, you are," he advised me, pulling the vodka bottle from my grasp.

"I can't stitch you up, Peter," I said nervously. There was no way he was going to make me do this.

"Then I guess I'll just bleed to death."

I wasn't sure if he was just playing me or if he actually might bleed to death. With the amount of blood on his shirt and the fact that he was still bleeding, I knew he could bleed to death. I didn't know the first thing about sewing up a wound. The only thing I did know was that whatever was being used needed to be sterile. Taking the needle between my fingers, I walked to the kitchen so I could find the lighter that I used to light my candles. Pulling it from the drawer, I ignited it and placed the flame over the tip of the needle for a couple of seconds until I felt satisfied that any germs living there were dead.

Sitting beside Peter, I pulled out a long piece of floss from its container and threaded it through the eye of the needle. With the threaded needle in one hand, I took the bottle of vodka from Peter with the other and took a big swallow. I needed all the courage I could get. Peter clenched his teeth with a moan as the first stab broke his skin. I began stitching him up while he gave me instructions on how to loop the string so that a knot could be made. By the time I had finished with my handiwork, I had looped and knotted a total of fifteen stitches. Covering the wound with a large gauze pad, I taped it to his skin and wrapped an ace bandage around his waist in order to keep it in place. Even though I wasn't a doctor, I had to admit I did a pretty good job.

~****~

Peter was resting on the couch when his phone began to vibrate. Pushing from the chair I was occupying beside him, I picked up his phone, noticing that Sly was the caller. Swiping my hand across the screen, I said, "Hello."

"This doesn't sound like Peter," he said sarcastically.

"He's resting," I said.

"Well, when Sleeping Beauty wakes from his nap, let him know that I've contacted all the guys. They'll all be at the shop in an hour."

Leaning over to place the cell back on the table, I saw two very angry eyes staring back at me. "That was Sly. He said the guys will be at the shop in an hour," I said, watching him push his body in a sitting position.

"Thanks," he said, looking around for his soiled t-shirt.

"If you're looking for your shirt, I threw it away. It was disgusting," I said, turning up my nose. "I might have one for you in the bedroom."

Searching my room, I found one of his t-shirts at the bottom of my drawer. Thinking that I should have thrown this one away along with the other, I held it to my nose to breathe in his scent. As much as I wanted to forget about him, this was the one thing I couldn't get rid of. It was the last piece of him I had. Making him think about what he lost, I sprayed a small amount of my favorite perfume on the front. I wanted him to be reminded of me.

Peter was standing near the window looking out over the city when I entered the room. Careful not to scare him, I walked beside him and held out his shirt. Taking the shirt from me, I could feel the pull he had on my body. Even though I knew we could never be together, I still wanted him. Letting go of the last piece of him, I watched as he slowly pulled his t-shirt on. Even though he was in pain, I could see a small smile on his face as he took in the scent I left behind.

Turning towards me, he rubbed his thumb across my lips. My eyes closed, feeling the pain in my heart knowing that we could never be together. Opening my eyes, I could see that he was no longer there. With my head dipped, I asked the one question that would break us. "Did you do it, Peter? Did you kill my brother?"

Feeling pressure in my chest, I looked over to the front door, where he stopped. He didn't turn so I could see his face. I had my answer when he walked out the door without a word.