Absorbing White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Elizabeth, this will only anger him further. He loves you. Breathe his name in your heart and come back to him. He needs you, loves you. You know how he feels,” he says as he drops his cane on the floor, smiles and reaches a hand out for me. My eyes shoot to the discarded cane and then back to him as he gets closer, and my body halts again. He needs me, loves me, can’t breathe without me. I love him. What am I doing, running from him? I can’t think anymore. Those damned intoxicating eyes and that soft smile have me confused. Where the hell did that come from? I just know I need some time to think, to be away from them both.

  “Keep moving,” Vixon shouts again as she holds the whip higher and pushes against me.

  “I... I can’t. I have to go back. I have to...” I can’t speak again. I don’t even know who I’m speaking to anymore, and those sets of eyes just keep pulling me – green, blue – and those hands just won’t let me go. Either of them.

  In a flash of blue, the whip is suddenly grabbed from her hands and wrapped around my wrist in seconds. I can’t even comprehend what’s happening until I notice Vixon on the floor, nursing the side of her face and Pascal turning me in a circle until the whip is also wrapped around my body in some sort of knot.

  “Child,” he snarls at Vixon as he picks up his cane again and glares down at her. “How dare you defy me in my own home? Do you suppose you have the right to question me in this? I would have thought better of you. Stay there while I deal with this abomination.”

  By abomination, I assume he means me. I turn in his hold to try and look at him, but he grabs the back of my head and pushes me down to the floor with such force that I squeal in surprise until my arse is in the air and my lips are on the carpet.

  “And you, you will lick the ground he walks on until we get back to him. Perhaps you’ll have learnt some fucking manners by the time we arrive.”

  I don’t even know where I am now. I do know that he means every word, judging by his vicious tone. Gone is the Pascal I know and like, love even. This man is clearly the one everyone fears. I twist my head towards Vixon to see if she’s okay, or maybe see if she’s got any advice on the matter at hand. She just continues to look at the floor, refusing to acknowledge me in any way. She looks scared and completely apologetic as she sits perfectly still, and we both listen to irritated ramblings in a foreign language that I’ve never heard before. Maybe it’s Dutch.

  His hand is suddenly on my backside, and his fingers seem disturbingly close to sliding my panties to the side. My whole body stiffens in response, as yet again, those confused feelings conflict with each other in every possible way. I want it. I don’t want it. I need it. I don’t need it. Hit me. Please don’t hit me. Not without my permission. Take it from me... Each thought flashes through my mind as his fingers just linger there as if waiting for some sort of response that I don’t have a clue about.

  “I should fuck this insolence out of you,” he snarls down at me. I’m actually trembling at the tone. It’s just the same as in the back of the limo, frightening. “Why he hesitates so is beyond me. When will you learn? Hmm? Perhaps an hour with me before we reach him might loosen you up, help you appreciate who this is all for. You disgust me with your weakness. You deserve neither my patience nor my consent in this any longer.” Now what the hell is he talking about? My face tries to turn again to look at him but he just increases his leverage on the whip, which lifts my arse higher and sends my weight down onto my face again. I’m not even sure what I want to say if I’m honest, because for whatever reason, my brain seems to want to give in to this, wants to let him do what he thinks is the right thing to do. God knows I don’t know what it is. Perhaps I should just let him take the reins and stop trying to figure out what it is that I actually want. Run, hide, stay here, do whatever they want, he wants. Alex…

  His name spins through my mind and then seems to skim across my skin, a whisper of those fingers caressing me, those eyes boring into me and showing me love, commitment, honesty. Where’s he gone? Why? Christ, if I could shake my head at the moment, I would. Instead, I just close my eyes and wait. The feelings that hit me are instant and powerful. I want his weight on me at the moment, want him to be holding this whip, want him to be hovering his hands over me instead of Pascal, readying me, showing me more. I may want to leave, but I can’t deny this need I have to be beneath him, in whatever form, to give him everything he wants, regardless of his behaviour.

  “Mmm, still so confused, my rose,” Pascal says above me in a slightly softer voice. He removes his hand and loosens the whip so I can move again, then tuts at me. I can only get one hand to the floor so heave myself up with it and begin to pull myself forward a little as he walks a step away from the door, from my freedom. “Well, this should be amusing. My mood should improve greatly by the time we find him.” Arsehole. “Do remember to lick the floor on the way, my dear. I’d hate to have to keep reminding you.”

  We’re about five feet from where we started when I hear the doors open behind me.

  Chapter 7

  Elizabeth

  “P ut her down, Pascal.” The softest, most feminine voice I’ve ever heard comes drifting over the air, almost angelic in quality as it somehow lingers all around and drowns out all the depravity of the situation. Pascal instantly stops and drops the weight of my body, so I sink to the floor again and sigh in relief. I watch his boots slowly turn and try to twist my body round to see where the voice has come from. “Elizabeth, can you get to me or do you need untying first?” she says as I finally see her.

  I can’t even speak. Her very aura is like nothing I’ve ever experienced – peaceful, serene, yet so utterly in control of everything around her. Her long, jet black hair and slim, six-foot frame seem to almost shimmer as she stands there, glistening like some kind of divine force. And she’s obviously completely in control of Pascal somehow because as I flick my eyes up to him, he’s actually looking at the floor a little, almost refusing to look into her eyes for some reason. “Vixon, are you harmed?”

  “No, Rox. I’ll be okay,” she says as she gets up and gingerly makes her way across to me, constantly looking at Pascal. “Do you still want to leave, lovey? Now’s your chance.”

  Do I? Yes. No. I don’t know. Actually, I think maybe I do. If only for some sodding peace and to get away from Mr. Arsehole, who I don’t like very much at the moment, regardless of my irritating trembling and confusing thoughts.

  I nod over at her and then look back to the woman in the structured white dress and fedora in the doorway, who smiles at me as Vixon tugs and finally undoes the whip. Pascal still hasn’t moved, but as I get to my feet and glance at him, he has lifted his eyes to meet hers. There’s a strange look on his face, as if she’s the only woman in the world that he can see in that moment. He seems transfixed on her, and as I glance back at her, she seems the same. It’s almost like everything is intruding on something incredibly private, and I find myself looking away from them and towards the floor because I feel like I’m watching something no one should be seeing. Vixon shoves me towards her until we’re almost through the open door behind her, and that’s when I see my own vision of an angel coming along the corridor towards us. He drowns out the corridor with his stature, like he owns every inch of the space around him, and he directs all of his focus at me. Oh god, he looks good. I feel like I haven’t seen him for weeks. There’s not an inch of a smile on his face, just that same beautiful frown and irritated sneer, as he gets closer. My feet freeze, mid-step as my body hums at his impending proximity. It takes everything I’ve got to fight the need to go to him, run into his arms and fall at his feet. Arsehole. How does he do that? Why? His hair’s all messy, he’s got a black shirt on, and those icy blue eyes still pierce mine with commands, somehow forcing me to move back in his direction. It’s like there’s a devil on one side of me, and a rescuing angel at the other, in the form of Rox, whoever she is.

  “Elizabeth, come here,” he says, an order not a request, however nicely he puts it. My t
high twitches to move my feet before I’ve even thought about my actions. Roxanne steps in front of me and blocks him from my view.

  “You get your own way too much, Alexander,” she says sharply in reply, seemingly for me because I can’t think at all, or speak, apparently.

  “Roxanne, what do you think you’re doing?” he says in his smooth, velvety voice. I peek over her shoulder to see him stop beside Pascal and then step a foot in front of him, almost protectively, quite oddly. “She’s not yours to take away from me.”

  “Alexander, given your behaviour a short while ago, I’m very sure she’s not yours to keep either, unless she tells me otherwise. I’ve never known you fall apart for a woman before, and I won’t let you tear her down now unless she wants it that way. I am only concerned for her wellbeing and that she knows the truth. So she can come with me if she wishes, and maybe she’ll call you when she’s ready to deal with your arrogance.”

  “I am not Pascal, Roxanne. You have no right to-”

  “No, you are not. You have none of his beauty, nor his forethought or intelligence. You are supposed to be less maniacal since Pascal’s involvement with you, more measured in your skill. This,” she snaps angrily as she glares at both of them and flicks her hand in our direction, “is not what I would expect from any dominant, let alone a master of stature or consequence. Tyrannical behaviour is reserved for idiots and fools. You remember those, don’t you, Pascal, the foolish times?”

  She sucks in a breath and is suddenly dreamlike again as she clasps her hands behind her back and continues to stare at Alex, as if she’s perfectly happy to take him on at any level he chooses. He clearly isn’t aware of any reason why he shouldn’t be looking straight at her, because he doesn’t remove his gaze from her and manages to achieve that growing thing that he’s quite good at. She eventually murmurs something to herself and nods her head toward Pascal again. “He will tell you what you need to do if you listen carefully enough. He knows it only too well himself, don’t you, my love?”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’m hovering behind this strange conversation in my semi slutty dress, trying to fathom what the hell they’re all talking about.

  Who is this woman? Whoever she is, she seems to have some influence over the two most powerful men I’ve ever met. And why does she smell so good? Random, I know, but it’s exotic, potent and heady. It’s making me feel somehow calmer. Alex actually seems to be snarling a bit now. Pascal is still standing there looking very serious while trying not to crack a small smile. I can see the corners of his mouth twitching at her compliment, and his eyes are as bright as I’ve ever seen them, almost glowing.

  “Let her go, dear boy,” he says as he eventually steps in front of Alex and walks towards the vision in white, still not removing his eyes from hers. “She will come back in time. She loves you.”

  I will, will I? Who the hell does he think he is? He’s probably right, but that’s entirely beside the point.

  “You should not be here. I warned you what might happen should you ever frequent my floor again,” Pascal says as he advances towards her, cane tapping as he goes, his devilish smirk now firmly attached to his lips as he rubs his fingers around his chin. She simply laughs and continues to keep her frame serenely in place.

  “I’m bored, and I was called for help. She’s not thinking clearly enough, and you are taking too long, which is quite unlike you. Did you think I wouldn’t want to join in at some point?” she replies as she takes a step toward him and reaches a finger for his face. I swear I see him flinch. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him look even slightly nervous. No, that’s not the right word. Apprehensive, maybe, as if he has no idea what’s going to happen next. She drags her white painted fingernail along his cheek and lets it drift down his chest and out towards the cane, until they’re both holding onto the silver top of it. They stand there for what feels like minutes, just staring, completely focused on each other and seemingly having silent dialogue of some sort. Given his ability to read minds, I’m not surprised, but he’s not relaxed like he is with Alex. There is nothing calm about his demeanour this time. He looks primed and ready to explode at any moment, and she just seems utterly relaxed and composed, as if none of this is causing her any concern whatsoever.

  “No,” he eventually says, nothing else, just that, with a slight sneer of his lip. She stares a moment longer and then mouths something at him, some words that the rest of us aren’t allowed to hear, but he gets it. It’s clear he understands it with acute clarity because his eyes widen a little as he rips the cane away from her hand with a frown and spits that language at her that I don’t understand. She still simply stands and chuckles her way through his tirade of what I assume is Dutch.

  “Still not ready? Shame,” she says as she turns her back on him and walks back towards us, winking at me as she does. I can’t stop the smirk that shoots across my face. Watching Pascal get put down is highly amusing, if that’s what it was. She spins her finger at me, indicating that I should turn and leave, so I begin to move.

  “You said you wouldn’t leave,” Alex growls. I turn back to see him raising a hand out for me. I flick my eyes to his fingers and halt my progress away from him. “No matter what, you said you wouldn’t leave, Elizabeth.”

  “You said you loved me. I haven’t seen any love from you lately,” is my immediate response. I don’t even think about the answer. It falls from my lips as if it’s the only thing that’s been troubling me. And when I don’t over think it, that’s exactly what the problem is here. It’s not the depravity, not the murderous tendencies, not the Mafia ties, not the unknown quantities that he keeps hidden. It’s his lack of love. I could cope with it all when he loved me, when he showed me he loved me.

  “Come, Elizabeth. It is time for us to leave. Let him have some time to think about his actions,” she says softly as she puts her hand on my shoulder and gently nudges me towards the exit. “He needs time, as do you.”

  I have no idea what I need anymore. I’m so damn tired, but for whatever reason, her very presence is more calming than even his. Vixon wraps an arm around my waist and leads me towards the main door as I notice Roxanne stop and turn back towards Pascal again.

  “Whenever you are ready,” she almost whispers at him.

  He raises a brow in response and snarls at her again. I watch him hold his hand up at Alex to stop his movement to get to me, and I realise I’m in the company of Pascal’s past, possibly his one try for real love and a happy home. My eyes find hers as she glides past me.

  “I will tell you when you’re ready to accept that life cannot always be made perfect, Elizabeth. Sometimes we have to just accept that only time can close the holes that drive us apart.”

  ~

  We are sitting in another one of New York’s finest kinky establishments, this one owned by Roxanne. The Parlour, so far, is everything I would expect of the woman. Sensuous, sophisticated, lathered in swathes of gold fabric, creating an evocative atmosphere that resembles something out of the thirties era. Decadent hints of Art Deco glamour hint at an air of naughty Charleston behaviour, and the clean lines and angles only declare her love for structure even more. I’m lounging on a black leather sofa in a small room, which, it seems, is her private sanctuary, and drinking a large glass of champagne as she continues to study some paperwork in her hand. She’s been doing that for about an hour now, never looking at me, just tutting to herself occasionally and writing notes on the paper. Where Vixon has gone, I don’t know. She just shuffled me in here when Roxanne pointed this way, disappeared, then brought me a white fluffy bathrobe and disappeared again. I instantly removed the offending dress and slipped into my new comfy outfit, and here I still sit, drinking champagne and eating a bacon sandwich that I requested when offered something to eat.

  I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do next. Make small talk? Ask her what I’m supposed to do? She does seem to be the fount of all knowledge all of a sudden. Belle would so love th
is woman. She’s clearly American, but her facial features are almost Asian. Given her height, she can’t be truly Asian, but her beautiful, cat-like hazel eyes just remind me of that part of the world.

  “Are you going to speak, Elizabeth, or just make up your own mind about what is happening around you?” she says, still not looking at me. “Either is fine with me, but if you require any answers, I’ll need to talk now as I have work to get on with shortly.” Oh.

  “Umm...” She laughs and then drops her paperwork onto the floor near her exquisite heels – zebra print no less.

  “You must amuse him, both of them, actually. You really are quite a distraction from the norm,” she says as she picks up her champagne and leans back onto the sofa.

  “How do you know anything about me? And why are you helping me?”

  “You are of significance to Pascal, and therefore to me. I don’t care much for your Alexander, but Pascal does so I have to tolerate him. And I’m helping because it serves a purpose. Please don’t think I’m your friend. I’m not.”

  “Oh…” Yes, it’s pretty much all I’ve got. I’m not even sure I should say anything else. So I don’t. I just stare over at her and shrivel up into a ball. I thought she liked me. She obviously doesn’t.

  “Don’t look so scared. Poor little thing, he’s done quite a number on you, hasn’t he? Do you have any power over him at all, or are you too timid to try your hand at it? I thought you might be the one to change this all around, hoped anyway. There has been no one until you.”

  More stupid, never talking directly crap. Who the hell does she think she is? Obviously another Pascal type, which I have no patience for at the moment.

  “Look, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I think it’s best if I just leave. Vixon said you might be able to get me back to the UK without a passport. Can you do that? I need some time away from him. Even if I do still love him, he’s behaved appallingly and I don’t know if I can forgive it. I don’t see him changing back to who he was any time soon, so I think it’s probably best if I just let all this go and move the hell on.” Suddenly I’m up on my feet and pacing. “I can’t cope with him, you see, no matter how much Pascal tells me I can. It’s like a split personality all the time – me, that is, not him.” I’m rambling, watching my bare feet wandering around beneath me towards the window. “Well, actually, him too, but that’s not the point at the moment, I suppose. It’s just, one minute I’m quiet and happy, the next I have to be all feisty and kick his arse or something, which he told me to do because of morals by the way, whatever that means. I don’t even know what I’m doing most of the time – all the time actually. There’s no logic or sense to it. He’s all over the place. I guess he’s as bad as he said he was. I don’t know.” I turn back towards her, shaking my head in confusion once more, and try to find some order to my chaotic thoughts. “I’ve got a business waiting for me, and Christmas with a family I love and a mum who’s just been diagnosed with cancer. I just need to get home. I...” There’s nothing left. I can’t find any other things to say. Either that or I can’t get them out of my throat, which is still longing for his fingers around it, so I look down at my bracelet and rub my fingers across it.