Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series (31 page)

As though he’d simply seduced her, fucked her, moved on.

She’d hidden her emotions as best she could but he knew her too well, too intimately. And witnessing that dying spark of hope in her eyes, and the slump of her shoulders as she hunched to protect herself—from him!—had been like a spear-thrust to the chest, twisting and lodging deep.

He despised himself for hurting her, this vulnerable and damaged woman who’d suffered so much, yet still had love aplenty to lavish on her daughter… that same little girl Danbur suspected was a by-blow of abuse Opal had suffered when she’d been little more than a child herself. It couldn’t be easy, raising a child born of rape, seeing harsh reminders of your abuser in that child’s face or eyes or hair, yet loving her unconditionally. None would have blamed Opal for giving the child up to be raised by others. It would have been easier, perhaps, to forget and move on had she done so.

Danbur admired the woman Opal had become, even as he mourned her suffering. And he desired her more strongly each day. She was strong, whereas he’d been weak, unable to resist coaxing her from her shell. But ultimately
she
had taken control of her destiny. She’d humbled him when she’d first broken the barriers she’d erected around her heart and responded to him as a woman to a man she desired. And when nightmares of returning to his crystal prison had stolen his sanity, she’d come to him again, offering him the gift of her body and a soul-deep connection he’d never found with any other woman.

She was heartbreakingly brave, his Opal. Beautiful and bright and full of hidden fiery depths like the fire opal for which she’d been named. And if
she
had been the one to call him from the crystal….

He could not think of that now. All he knew was that she deserved better than to be repaid with silence and disinterest—however feigned those reactions might be on his part.

She deserved more. She deserved so much more than the little he could give her.

When the cold had thoroughly numbed his skin if not his despairing heart, Danbur shut off the water, dried himself and yanked on his clothes. He took his leave of Max and Mickey, and strode off down the street, heading for Pieter’s house.

During the lengthy walk he made peace with his decision. Or so he thought. But as he passed Opal’s property he couldn’t help glancing up, half-expecting to see her standing in the doorway, watching out for him.

Hah. Such a fool he was.

He shoved open the front door to Pieter’s house and strode into the lounge, only to see another female with the power to wring his already battered heart. Sera. Sitting on the floor with Pieter, playing the spelling game with the board and the little tiles with assorted letters that they both enjoyed.

Gods. Would this day’s tortures never end? He threw himself full-length onto the couch and draped an arm over his eyes.

Pieter murmured something about a pot of tea and Danbur heard him leave the room. He didn’t need to explain his state of mind to the old sorcerer—some small mercy at least.

A rustle of movement…. Followed by a small body snuggling close to him on the couch. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, Dan,” Sera whispered. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Please, little one, just let me hold you awhile.” He curved an arm about her small form.

She laid her head against his shoulder and he let her comfort him while thoughts of her, and her mother, and everything he would never have, drifted through his mind.

Sera was resilient in the way young children often were. Given time he would be nothing but a vague figure from her past. And in time, Opal, too, would heal and forget him and move forward.

He prayed that one day he could do the same. But he suspected he would spend the rest of eternity thinking of this little girl’s mother, reliving each and every encounter… wondering who Opal would eventually give her heart to. And forever wishing he could have been a part of her life.

She’d survived her first day.

Opal poured herself a glass of water and dropped onto couch. She needed to wind down a bit before—hopefully—catching an early night. The first installment specified by her contract had hit her account and everything was go-go-go. Today had been full-on. Tomorrow would be worse. Emilie had confided that Magda wasn’t wholly convinced the stylist was on the right track with Opal’s “look” and she wanted test shots done tomorrow. Opal needed to bring her A-game. She hoped she wouldn’t end up sleeping poorly, tossing and turning, imagining worst case scenarios…. Like not forging the kind of connection with her photographer that produced memorable photos.

She gave herself a mental shake and a stern lecture. She wasn’t going to dwell on all the things that could screw up this life-changing opportunity. Desiree had reminded her that second-guessing yourself, thinking too hard about what you were being asked to do in front of the camera, could be a model’s downfall. Opal needed to focus. She couldn’t afford distractions. And so she mentally shoved her doubts into a box, locked it, and threw away the key.

Much like she’d done with Danbur. Not that the technique was working particularly well where he was concerned, because every time she closed her eyes, his was the face she saw. And when she drifted in that twilight zone between wakefulness and sleep, she could almost feel his lips on hers, his hands on her body, his cock inside her, stroking deep and hard and—

God. Enough! She wasn’t going there right now—couldn’t afford to go there ever again if she harbored the slightest hope of getting over him any time soon.

Opal bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to break the skin. Don’t think of him. Think of someone else. Desiree, for instance.

She’d come over last Sunday as planned, and they’d spent a couple of hours minutely dissecting her date with Roth until, finally, Desiree had decided that if he asked her out again she’d accept. And if he let her pay for the outing without making a fuss, it could be the start of something beautiful. She’d even blushed at that last admission. And then she’d powered up her tablet and made Opal sit through a half dozen episodes of
Top Models in the House
, which could best be described as a mash-up of Big Brother and ANTM.

“Nothing better to get you back in the game,” Desiree had insisted. And they’d both applauded and laughed—and yes, even cringed—over some of the wannabe supermodels’ antics. Not to mention bickered about the judges’ scoring of challenges, and rolled their eyes in mock horror at often totally unexpected social media scores proving how quickly the public could turn on a favorite.

“I have a love-hate relationship with social media,” Desiree had grumbled. “But it’s a necessary evil these days, I guess.”

Opal still paled at the mere thought that Magda might expect
her
to open a Twitter account. She didn’t “get” Twitter at all, even after Desiree’s painstaking attempts to explain its allure.

Desiree had waved away Opal’s concerns, however. “Magda’s PA will hire you a social media coach—or some intern will Tweet stuff on your behalf. Don’t sweat it.”

The evening had been just the confidence-booster Opal needed. Ditto with Desiree’s call last night to deliver a pre-first-day pep talk along the lines of, “Fake it and act like you’ve already made it. Show ’em you don’t give a shit about your stutter. If all else fails, smile. You’ll knock ’em dead.”

Turned out Opal was a better actress than she’d believed. And smiling while going along with whatever anyone happened to want at the time, had proven her best defense when things got too overwhelming.

She probed her cheeks and jaw experimentally. Yeow. She’d forgotten how painful holding a natural smile could be.

She gulped the rest of her water, crawled to her feet, and wandered back into the kitchen to rinse the glass. Hard to believe so many days had passed in the blink of an eye. Last week had literally flown by. Not surprising given Opal been so caught up in the handover to Yara, fielding phone calls from Magda’s über-efficient PA, who kept checking in to insure everything was on track, and coping with the usual day-to-day routine with Sera, she’d barely had time to think. And of course, despite her best efforts, there had been a wrinkle with Yara taking over her clients—none other than Sienna Mitchell.

Opal rolled her neck from side to side, and combed her fingers through her hair, tugging firmly on the ends. The sharp little pains made her wince… and vividly recall how tempted she’d been to yank out Sienna Mitchell’s fake blonde hair by the roots. It was a tribute to Yara’s careful and expert handling of a difficult situation, that by the end of the week Sienna had done an astonishing about-face, morphing into what Opal had teasingly described as the ultimate Yara fan-girl.

“Believe me, that woman’s attitude is nothing I haven’t seen before,” Yara had said, shrugging off Opal’s praises for her patience and politeness in the face of what could only be termed downright rudeness. Not to mention a tantrum worthy of a spoiled child after Sienna tried to rearrange Yara’s hours and hadn’t gotten her way. “The head janitor at the school I worked for? Now she was a real hardass.”

The upshot was that this morning, none of Opal’s first day qualms had centered around whether Yara would retain her clients. And if worst came to worst and this foray into the modeling world turned out to be a disaster, Opal would seriously look at taking on more clients and partnering with the young woman.

As she dried the glass, her gaze drifted to the calendar she’d pinned by the phone. The pink heart circling this coming Thursday came abruptly into focus.

Her stomach pitched. Sera’s ninth birthday. And she’d completely forgotten? Shit! Guilt bit deep. She was the worst mother ever!

There was another notation by that date, too. She peered closer. A staff-only day when the school would be closed. Right. Okay, that made things easier. Hopefully Magda would remember Conrad had negotiated that as a leave day. But just to be sure, Opal grabbed her mobile and searched for Emilie’s number.

Hey Em
, she texted.
It’s my daughter’s birthday Thursday & her school’s closed. It crept up on me—worst mother ever! M knows I’ve got the day off, right?
O.

The response came back within seconds.
Quit worrying. I’ll remind M some of us actually have lives :)

TY!

So far so good. She should be able pull it together in time to organize a proper party. The main problem was who on earth to invite. It wasn’t like Sera got invited on play-dates, or ever wanted to have classmates over after school.

Or ever mentioned having any friends, either.

Opal pulled out a chair and sagged into it. God. How could she not have seen how isolated Sera had become? Lonely. Scared to open up to people her own age for fear of being hurt or betrayed.

Like mother, like daughter….

She propped her elbows on the table, and buried her face in her hands.

The cistern clanked as the toilet flushed, jerking her from despair. Sera was still awake? Okay, maybe that was a good thing. She stood, blotted her eyes, and put on her game face. Now to go try and make this right.

She jogged up the stairs, reaching Sera’s bedroom door just as Sera exited the bathroom. “H-H-Hey, sweetie. N-N-Need to ask y-y-you… s-s-something.”

Sera yawned and held up her arms—an invitation to be carried back to bed.

Opal scooped her up and cuddled her close.

“What d’you want to know, Mommy?”

“W-W-Who you’d… l-l-like to invite… t-t-to your b-b-birthday party. A-A-And what k-k-kind of c-c-cake and st-st-stuff. But if y-y-yyou’re too t-t-t-tired….”

Sera leaned back, blinking a little. And then her eyes rounded until she resembled a disheveled little owl. “I get to have a party?”

“Yes.” The guilt sliced deeper. Poor little chick, thinking her mom had forgotten all about her birthday.

“I want a cake with pink frosting, please.”

Opal smiled. Of course she did.

“And can we have pink lemonade? And strawberry ice cream?”

“Yes. Yes. A-A-And yes.”

Sera squealed. And squealed even more loudly when Opal dumped her on the bed and pretended to have been deafened. She scrambled to her knees and bounced some more. “And can I please invite Dan and Mr. Stone, and Max and Mickey? And Annie and Conrad, too, if they want to come. Please?”

Opal did her utmost not to reveal her dismay that there were no kids on that list. And that Danbur headed it. She didn’t want to disappoint Sera, and it was incredibly selfish to think of herself, but it was hardly appropriate to invite a man Opal had slept with—and was no longer on speaking terms with—to her daughter’s party. She would have to suck it up and have a word to Peter. If anyone could convince Danbur to make his excuses, Peter was the one to do it. “A-A-Anyone else?”

Sera screwed up her nose, thinking hard. And Opal had just begun to hope there might be some kids from class added to the list when Sera blurted, “Desiree, too.”

“Okay.” She couldn’t leave it alone. She had to push the point. “Wh-Wh-What about k-k-kids from… sch-sch-school?”

Sera’s smile died a quick death and she quit bouncing. Her lips formed a straight, mutinous line and she shook her head emphatically.

Way to go, Opal. First you almost forget your daughter’s birthday, now you’ve upset the hell out of her, too.

She watched silently as Sera scrambled beneath the covers, pulling them up to her chin. And Opal’s heart felt like it was shattering when her daughter reached for her toy fox and cuddled it tight.

She bent to press a kiss to Sera’s cheek. “Whoever y-y-you w-w-want, sweetie,” she whispered.

“Thanks, Mommy,” Sera whispered back. “You’re the best mommy in the whole world.”

Not even close, Opal thought, as she quietly left the room. Not even close. She’d been so tied up in her own dramas that, aside from relief Sera’s asthma seemed to have markedly improved, she’d glossed over Sera’s ongoing problems connecting with kids her own age. But she would try and do better. And a good start would be getting to the bottom of what was going on at school. Now all she had to do was pluck up the guts to ring Sera’s teacher.