Absorbing White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Cold?” she said.

  “Cold. It will help with the…” Bruising? Pain? He couldn’t even bring himself to saying the fucking words out loud. “Marks on your body,” he finished quietly, suddenly disgusted with the thought.

  “Okay,” she said behind him. It wasn’t a convincing okay but he hadn’t got time to dwell on it, and he needed some fucking air.

  He was at the garage and in the Aston before he gave himself another chance to think about it. What the fuck was wrong with him? She’d just done everything he wanted of her, offered it, delivered it, and now he wasn’t comfortable with it? Jesus fucking Christ, what a screwed up son of a bitch he was. Where was Pascal? He needed to talk to Pascal about this, although why that man would have a fucking clue he didn’t know. Or maybe he would? He seemed to know everything about him most of the time.

  He floored the car up the drive and stopped at the top to think about his direction. Pascal had gone to Eden after dropping Evelyn off. He could go now and have a drink. What time was it? He looked at his watch. 9.30pm. No, he needed to go and see Belle, needed to put that right first, so he turned towards their apartment and blew out a breath in anticipation of the oncoming fight.

  He was there before he knew it. The car idled over the road in a back alley as he scanned the area for troublemakers. There didn’t appear to be any in this neighbourhood but he gave the car a pat on the bonnet as he got out, just in case. It wasn’t that he loved it that much – more that she did. And Christ did she look good in it. He walked over the road, avoiding the dick on a motorbike who very nearly ran him over, and wandered into the lobby. Cool, calm, he needed to keep it together because Belle would no doubt be launching into a tirade about how terrible he was for her sister, how he didn’t deserve her, and what a useless piece of shit he was. He got it. She was right. She’d still be sitting at his dining table having Christmas dinner, though, right next to Conner. One way or another, that’s exactly where she’d be. He pressed the elevator button and waited as it rose up beneath him to their floor. Deep breaths, calm, intelligence was going to win this fight, not brute strength. He walked along the hallway and rapped his knuckles on the door then waited for her.

  “Who is it?” she called through the door a few seconds later.

  “Alex,” he replied, keeping it as informal as possible. Perhaps she’d be more relaxed if he was pleasant.

  “Fuck off.”

  Maybe not.

  “Belle, I’ll break it down if you want?” Just a bit of brute strength might be necessary, useful even.

  He heard the stomp of feet coming towards the door and moved sideways a touch. If she was anything like her sister, she’d definitely try to throw something at him, or scratch his eyes out. Sure enough, the door opened and what appeared to be a large, glass ashtray went hurtling into the wall behind him. He looked down at the remnants and smirked as he turned back towards her. These Scott girls were going to be the death of him, he was sure. She wasn’t smiling in response. Shame. Ferociously dressed in a red dress, she glared at him and folded her arms, once again blocking his entry, just as she had last time.

  “Fuck off,” she reiterated. Eloquent as that was, and as much as he got it, he hadn’t got the time. And Elizabeth was in his bed, waiting for him to tell her everything was going to be okay.

  He pushed forwards and watched her eyes widen in surprise as he grabbed her forearms and forced her back inside. Her heels tripped a little as she tried to fight back so he lifted her and dumped her on the kitchen counter.

  “Get it all out, Belle,” he said as he took off his jacket and reached for a bottle of Vodka. Didn’t they have any decent alcohol in here? Christ. He took two glasses from the cupboard and filled both to the top.

  “What the fuck was that? You think manhandling me is okay?” she asked, still clearly bemused by his actions as he offered her a glass and moved away to the couch.

  “I’m feeling determined, so say your piece and then I’ll have my go.”

  “Say my piece? I said I’d listen to you. That’s all. I have nothing to say to you,” she said, that shorter hair of hers being pushed behind her ears and a look of loathing firmly embedded on her face.

  “Really? You don’t want to tell me what you think of me?”

  “One thing you’re not, Alex, is stupid. I’m pretty damn certain you know exactly what I think of you. And it appears it doesn’t matter what I think, anyway. She’ll still choose you. The really irritating thing is, in a roundabout way, I sodding told her to.”

  He took a step back in amazement; she’d been nice about him at some point? Well, that was a fucking turn up for the books.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You want me to answer that, tell you how fucking good I thought you’d be for her? Tell you how I told her to give you everything because it wouldn’t work if she didn’t? You egotistical bastard, you are so unworthy of her love. You live in a damn fairytale world where everything is bright and shiny and new, and there’s nothing else than what Alexander White orders, what gets delivered to him because he so desires it. What a wanker you are. You have no idea of how love hurts, the pain that is caused by actions that happen without thought.”

  “Belle...”

  “No, you asked. Now you can damn well listen,” she said as she hit the floor and stormed toward him. “Did she tell you about Marcus? How he abused me, how he beat me and emotionally battered me until I had nothing left to give? Do you have any idea what bruises look like when they’re littered across your body? Can you imagine the fear that is caused by the person you love most in the world treating you like shit, manipulating you, treading all over you like you don’t exist other than to be a physical sounding board for paranoia and hatred?”

  “Yes, I-”

  “No, shut the fuck up. Listen to what I’m saying. You treat her just like that. You walk all over her with your whims and fancies. Kidnapping her? What fucking planet do you come from? Why would you think you have the right to do that? Is she not allowed an opinion, a chance to say no?”

  “Of course she is, and I would never-”

  “What? Hit her? Really? BDSM, the ability to relish pain from the deliverer, sound familiar? I read it in a kink forum. Quite insightful it was. How do you deliver her pain, Alex? Whips? Shackles? Or do you prefer to just order her around and treat her like a fucking slave? Do you think anyone really enjoys that bollocks? Fuck you, you’re a piece of shit, and I hate you. You’re ugly in here,” she snarled, tapping her fist over her heart. “You must know that. You must know you’ll never give her what she deserves. There is nothing you can say to make me believe you’re worth her love. Nothing. Do you understand? Is that enough of me saying my piece for you, you dick?”

  He pulled in a breath and waited to see if anything else was coming. She just stood there staring at him without a hint of fear or apprehension. Belle Scott meant every word she’d just said, and it wouldn’t surprise him if she’d be happy to die for it, die for her sister. At least they agreed on that. It suddenly all made sense – her attitude, her hardened edges, her ability to manipulate and control everyone around her. Her abuser was still her keeper, the person in her mind that kept nudging information around to prolong the agony, just as his bastard of a father had been to him, until his angel came along.

  “Have you finished?” She didn’t answer, just continued staring and then downed the vodka in her hand without so much as a slight change of facial features. Still stern, still obviously very angry. “Would it help you if I told you about my past?”

  “I couldn’t give a fuck about you. There is no excuse for-” It was his turn to cut in. She was going to see that he knew exactly how she felt. He yanked his jumper over his head and watched her face change instantly to surprise as she started to back away.

  “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but…” He moved towards her.

  “I had at least eight broken ribs by the time I was five,” he said as he offered his
hand to his ribs to point out the small lumps. “My arm is still slightly bent because of an unset fracture. My shoulder still dislocates due to being dragged about so much. I’m claustrophobic, scared of the dark and up until recently could barely breathe if I had a tie on for fear that it might choke me. You can’t see a mark on here, can you? It’s all clear now, isn’t it? Perfect, some would say, but I can assure you those bruises are still there, Belle. I know very well what it feels like to be abused by the one person you love most in the world – actually, the only person you know in the world. And I’m very aware what a piece of shit I am. That statement was rammed home enough for me to never forget it.” He snarled out a breath at the memory and watched her mouth soften a touch, just the faintest hint of care. She looked like his angel in that moment, which made him smile as he imagined her. She still didn’t trust him, though. That was fine. That would come with time. “My father was, is still, a monster, who took great delight in reminding me of how worthless I was as often as possible. But she takes those memories away for me, Belle. She makes me feel like I have a point, a purpose. She is giving me another chance at decency, and a life. She is the only one who has ever given me any sense of peace, and I’m afraid I refuse to lose that. I’m not letting her go, regardless of how you feel about me, so we need to get past this.”

  She was quiet, her hands still folded as she stared at him some more and sneered a little, possibly in revulsion.

  “Right,” she said quietly. He wasn’t entirely sure if she gave a shit about his past, but at least the venom had left her voice. They might have a chance at a normal conversation now.

  “Belle, sit back down for God’s sake. Whatever this animosity is, I need to talk it through with you, help you understand,” he said as he went to fill their glasses. She suddenly moved and stopped him with her hand as she reached into the cupboard. What the hell was she doing now? Did she have another glass ashtray in there? He narrowed his eyes at her and got ready to duck. She pulled out a bottle of brown liquid and put it in front of him. Whiskey. He nodded at her and opened it as she poured herself another vodka.

  “That must have hurt,” she said, sipping it as she slid onto the stool beside him.

  “Yes, it did.” If he thought about it, he could still feel the impact of that bastard’s hands every day.

  “I didn’t mean the bruises. I meant having to tell me. Did she make you do it?”

  “No, she would never do that and you know it. I thought it might help. I knew nothing about your past. She didn’t tell me. I’m sorry.”

  “Mmm...” She sipped again and he heard the sound of her heels hitting the floor beneath them as she gazed at the counter top. “You can put your jumper back on now. It’s hardly appropriate to have you parading around here half naked.”

  He chuckled and walked over to his discarded jumper to pull it back on. Funnily enough, she was right. Something about being undressed in front of Belle didn’t feel appropriate at all. He pondered the thought while shoving his head through the jumper. It had never happened before. Being naked in front of women had always been very easy, thoughtless even. Perhaps it was that he’d just explained his past, or maybe it was just that sense of moral decency kicking in. He ruffled his hair and looked back at her.

  “How do you feel?” It was strange to use Elizabeth’s words. He wasn’t sure he’d ever used them before, but fundamentally, he was interested in Belle’s response.

  “Irritated,” she replied. It wasn’t what he was hoping for, but at least it was better than furious. “Is this supposed to make me think you’re okay now? That you’re not going to be a dickhead anymore? Because, while I, too, am sorry for your past, I still don’t think you’re good enough for her.”

  He stared for a few minutes. She had a point. How he was going to make her believe he would look after, love and protect her sister for the rest of his life, he didn’t know. He found himself rubbing the back of his neck and chuckled at the very thought of trying to manipulate the sister, and what was the point anyway? He needed her to actually believe the truth, to believe that he would die to make sure Elizabeth was content and her future secure.

  “I’m not good enough for her, but I intend to make her happy, and for that I need you to be pleased about us and satisfied in your own life, preferably with Conner.” She scowled over her shoulder at him and then pointed to the back of her dress. What the hell did that mean?

  “The zip, Alex. Undo it.” He stared at her back in shock for a moment and tried to fathom what the fuck she was doing. “Just undo the bloody zip, will you?” He walked over and unhooked the catch then peeled the zip downwards a little.

  “All the way, please,” she said as she straightened up, her voice suddenly softer. Surely she wasn’t coming on to him? He pulled it down a bit further and then backed away to his whiskey again. It was safe over there. “Well, I never thought you’d turn this down,” she continued as she began pulling the dress from her shoulders and turned towards him with a seductive smile. Interesting game she was playing.

  “What are you doing, Belle?” he asked as she wandered towards him, her dress pooling as she stepped out of it and continued forward, leaving her in nothing but a red bra and thong.

  “We’re the same, you and I,” she whispered, shaking out her hair and smiling at him. “I never thought I’d meet someone who understood it. The pain, I mean. We could help each other out, you know.” Her fingers landed on his chest, then she walked her way around his body, dragging those talons on the way and reminding him of his angel. His cock hardened instantly at the thought as he briefly closed his eyes and imaged her at home, in his bed, waiting for aftercare.

  “Belle, you need to stop.” She had no idea of his pain, and this was most definitely not going to happen. Her hand lowered and grasped at his cock through his jeans.

  “Someone doesn’t think I should.” He raised a brow at the thought.

  “My cock will fuck most things,” he said quietly as he grabbed at her fingers and moved them away. “I won’t, not anymore. You should be careful of the game you’re playing, Belle. You’re making yourself look as bad as me.”

  “Maybe I am,” she said, her lips brushing his ear and gentle kisses raining down his cheek towards his mouth. His mind briefly tracked the possibility that this could be useful to him – that he could blackmail her with this moment if he let it go just a bit further. Then he saw his angel’s eyes gazing back at him, the vision of them in tears if she ever found out. It wasn’t something he ever wanted to witness again. That was enough. He grabbed Belle’s hand harder and pushed her away. She instantly smirked at him and wandered off to her drink again, all elements of seduction apparently gone as she knocked it back and threw a blanket from the sofa around her, chuckling. Clever bitch.

  “A test, I presume. Did I pass it?” he asked. He hadn’t fucked her, so presumably he must have.

  “I don’t know. Did you? Do you want to fuck me? How’s that cock doing?”

  “It’s thinking of Elizabeth.” She chuckled again and sat down on the sofa.

  “Good. Everything else she’s had has wanted to fuck me, so I guess you’ve at least got some morals in that brain of yours. Let’s talk a little, see what else you’ve got to persuade me with,” she said as she pointed towards the chair and tucked her feet up in the blanket.

  They talked for what felt like hours. He hadn’t really got a clue what they talked about, but she was actually easy to talk to, easy to discuss matters with now that she was calmer. She was also very different to her sister, scarred maybe from her past. He didn’t know, but every word that left her mouth was prepared, thought out. She had the ability to measure her words succinctly and to not beat about the bush where her opinions were concerned. She’d get on well with Evelyn. Either that or they’d hate each other instantly. He watched her direct the conversation away from Conner every time he tried to get to his next point: getting them back together. If he could figure out exactly what had driven them apart i
t might help. She got up and disappeared off into her bedroom, so he dug around in his coat pocket to retrieve her engagement ring. Placing it on the coffee table, he mused the ring and wondered what he’d need to say to make this right again. She emerged a few minutes later in cut off shorts and a t-shirt, her hair flowing around her shoulders and a relaxed smile on her face. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look quite so much like Elizabeth. The family resemblance was striking to say the least. Then she saw the ring. Her face screwed up as she stood there and frowned at it.

  “Why is that here?”

  “He asked me to give it back to you, to tell you that he still means it.”

  “He doesn’t love me enough. Take it back to him,” she spat as she reached for the bottle of vodka again.

  “He adores you, Belle. How can you say that? Whatever’s happened, it needs resolving. He’s miserable without you.” She simply stared at it for a few more minutes and then looked back at him in distaste as she snatched up her vodka.

  “I’m sure you’ll make it all better for him,” she replied, sarcasm dripping from her as she sat as far away from the ring as she could.

  “What happened?”

  “You did. You always do. You’re always right there in between us to cause a rift, to make him choose. I took his choice from him this time. You’re not someone I’m prepared to compete with or play second fiddle to. It’s difficult enough to deal with you having control of my sister, you think I want you involved in my own love life, too?”

  “He would have chosen you. He told me that last time.”

  “He shouldn’t have to choose anyone. He should love me enough to not question his loyalty. I don’t know what you have over him but it’s not going to work if-”