I heave out the last sentence with tears brimming in my eyes and gaze back at the floor, hoping that I’ve made my point emotively enough and that I haven’t just sentenced myself to the humiliation of rejection. If he wanted to hear my emotions then I’ve given all I have to give. My body is trembling with fear at the thought of him walking away and I hate that I’m still kneeling, but I have to see this through his way.
This could be it. My mind goes into overdrive. He might simply tell me to go and I will have no choice but to leave. He tried to let me in at his pace and my own stubbornness and stupidity has potentially ruined it for me. That a man like him was even thinking about revealing such personal information to me should have been enough for me. I should have backed off and let him show me everything else in his own time but instead I’ve been a fool and my stupid insistent need for clarification and more has destroyed his trust in me. I can only hope that my emotions are enough to make him see that this is still worthwhile and that everything we’ve achieved has been for a reason.
The air around me feels uncomfortably still as I continue to stare at the floor and wait. My knees are starting to hurt because of the cold tiled floor and the strange position for me is beginning to increase the pressure on my back. Three hours of being on a bike certainly haven’t helped much either. I eventually close my eyes and take in another quiet breath while trying to take myself to the place where I went when we were in Eden, the place with no pain. That place was so relaxing and peaceful, like a little slice of summer meadows and warmth. I have no idea how I found it at the time but right now, I could do with finding it again.
So much time passes while he just stands there and I kneel with my head bowed, waiting and hoping. I should have been prepared for the fact that he would take his time, that he wouldn’t make any move at all until he was ready, but I wasn’t, and it is yet another reminder that I hardly know anything at all about the man I’ve just released myself to.
Suddenly I hear movement and then it stops again. I peek my eyes open a bit and look back at the floor. His feet are pointed toward me. Well that’s a start. Taking three long strides he makes his way toward me and stops about an inch from my knees. Not daring to look up at him, I remain perfectly still and look at his boots. He nudges one between my legs until they’re parted slightly and then he pushes a bit more until the toe of his boot is next to my groin. Looking down at the sight sets my damned heart rate off again and I grip my thighs with my fingers, trying to contain my ridiculously erotic thoughts given the situation.
“Better,” he says in a commanding voice, the voice I know so well. Those eyes will be deep blue by now and his shoulders will be firm and inflexible. He removes his foot and walks to the lounge. I hear clinking and shuffling sounds as I remain in my position and wonder what’s going to happen next. “Come in here, Elizabeth,” his voice calls calmly. Oh thank god I can move!
Slowly shifting my weight, I ease myself up and stretch my legs out as I feel my back click in two places. It’s pathetic so I make another mental note to get fit at some point. As I walk into the room, I’m rewarded with the glorious sight of him sitting in a wing-backed chair, facing the fireplace and drinking what is more than likely Cognac with another drink placed on the coffee table opposite him. One leg is crossed over the other in that timelessly elegant way that suits him so well and his chin rests on his fingertips as he presumably thinks about what he’s going to do with me. His demeanour seems a strange mix of the dominant Alex I know and a more peaceful one that I haven’t seen before. He’s almost contemplative as if a little unsure of himself.
“Sit and have a drink,” he says as he gestures to the chair and rubs his temple.
As I reach for the drink, I sneak a look at his eyes to see what I’m dealing with and find there’s no darkened depth to them. His gaze is impassive and it leaves me feeling a little cold as I take a seat nervously. After a few moments, he speaks again while looking at the crackling fire.
“I’m not sure what you expect me to say about your feelings so I’m not going to say anything. I won’t be cajoled into saying something if I don’t feel like it so you’ll have to wait,” he says, holding up the glass and swirling the liquid around. Okay. “It’s good isn’t it? Le voyage de Delamain. It’s got a quality that very few understand or appreciate, and sadly most people who can afford it rarely care about its particular taste. They probably don’t look deep enough to give the flavour a chance to settle in their mouths and stimulate their tongues, or linger and show them its full capacity for gratification,” he says with a small sigh of dismay. What the hell?
“Yes, it’s very good,” I reply in a small voice as I sip and wait, again. He continues to stare into the fire. Where in God’s name is he going with this? Is he trying to tell me something with his little Cognac lesson? More minutes go by as he presumably thinks yet again about what to say or do next while I twiddle my fingers around the glass and try to not bite my thumbnail.
“Here’s what we’re going to do, Elizabeth. We’re going to spend some time doing this my way. You will not question anything that I say or ask of you, and you will not intrude on my feelings again unless I give you permission to do so. You will not ask anything of me or try to manipulate your way around a situation that you don’t approve of and you will not show any displeasure when the circumstance isn’t to your liking. You will stay here with me as of Thursday evening for two weeks and at the end of that time, we will have another conversation about this. Do you understand or do you have any questions?”
I gawk at him with an open mouth. He hasn’t moved his gaze from the fire and as he gulps back the rest of his Cognac and reaches to pour another one, I can’t help but watch the way his strong jaw and throat work the liquid. He suddenly looks so bloody unreachable and in control of himself again that I find myself feeling very small and inferior around him, and is he honestly expecting me to agree to his terms? There’s no bloody way I can do that, is there? I did just give him permission to take my heart and do what he wanted with it, but surely this is going to extremes, isn’t it? I can see what he’s trying to achieve but I’m not comfortable with it at all. Take out the feelings and you remove the problem? I doubt that’s going to work with me involved in the scenario but maybe if he thinks it’s worth trying then I should give it a go too. Obviously this is normal for him, but is he asking for complete subservience here?
“I have questions,” I reply softly.
“You have three. That’s all I’ll answer so do it quickly before I change my mind,” he snaps abruptly, his mouth sneering a touch. Okay, still angry then.
“I have to go to work-” I start. He cuts me off.
“Of course you do. Andrews will take you and pick you up every day. Such a wasted question, Elizabeth,” he says with what sounds like contempt. “Next.”
“I will want to see my sister and my friends. When can I see them?” I ask with conviction. This one’s important.
“You won’t see them outside of working hours. After two weeks, it might be different,” he replies, still looking at the fire with complete indifference. Oh.
Not entirely sure what I should say to that answer, I decide it’s more important to get down to the basic problem here, that being my heart and what he is capable of doing to it should he chose to turn into a complete arsehole, which it appears might be exactly what’s happening.
“Alex, can you look at me please?” After what seems like an eternity, he slowly turns toward me, still expressionless but at least I can see his face. I need to see his eyes for what I’m about to ask. His beautiful blue eyes gaze at me. His lips part slightly as if he wants to say something but then he closes them again and swallows away his thoughts.
“If I do this for you, will you hurt me?” I ask with all the emotion I can pack into my voice, leaning forward towards him and imploring him to respond with some warmth to try and dispel my fears.
He doesn’t.
“Physically? Yes. Emotionally?
Probably. In all honesty, you’ll just have to make up your mind if I’m worth the risk to you,” he responds without a twitch to his impassive face, nothing to give me a chance of understanding what he’s doing or why he’s doing it.
Minutes go past as I look into his face, hoping for a sign of life or feeling. Nothing passes his chiselled features. This clearly is an Alex who won’t be moved until he’s completely in control again, a control that I took from him and a control that he’s now asking me to give him back. Moving my eyes back towards his lips, I watch as he opens them to speak, full lips so kissable and teeth that know exactly what they’re meant for. I feel myself swallowing at the thought of what those teeth can do to me and that leads me onto visions of other very impressive images of him, so I scan his face once more and accept the inevitable. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about it. It’s only two weeks. How hard could it be?
“That’s it. Time’s up, Elizabeth. Will you do as I ask?” he asks with the first small smile I’ve seen in a while. He so saw me swallow. Arrogant bastard.
“Yes, with one stipulation. You will have to bend your rules if my work requires it,” I reply with conviction. “I will not let this ruin my business.”
“Agreed,” he says sharply as he stands up and moves to the computer panel on the wall. Pressing a button, he speaks into it. “Andrews, Elizabeth is ready to go home. Could you get the car ready?”
“Yes, sir,” comes the reply instantly. I look at him in shock.
“You want me to go home?” I ask in confusion.
“Yes. Spend tomorrow with your sister. Talk to her as much as you want. Go and get hammered for all I care. You have a free door pass at INK if you want it and I’ll reserve a suite for you. However, be very aware that I will expect you to tell me what time you will be finished on Thursday so I can send Andrews for you, and the moment you enter that car, our terms begin. I would suggest you get yourself ready for them,” he replies as he walks back to me and yanks me toward him with a sharp tug to my arm. Drawing a finger along my jaw, he pulls it towards my mouth and lightly brushes my lips with it. “Such a fuckable mouth,” he says to himself as he moves his other hand to the back of my neck and forces my mouth towards his. “So soft and inviting.” Gently placing his mouth on mine, he moves gracefully and with strong, supple strokes of his tongue, teases my mouth open, softly licking his way into my mouth. Increasing his hold on me and firmly moving my head to the side by my hair, he slides his tongue along my neck and I feel myself shiver at the contact. “So much potential to be harnessed and moulded.” Kissing his way back up the other side of my neck, he moves back to my lips and lays an utterly exquisite lingering kiss upon them before pulling away and leading me to the front door. On opening it, we’re met by Andrews waiting at the car.
“I’ll see you on Thursday. Enjoy your time with Belle,” he says frostily as he releases my hand and turns back to the door.
“Alex I…” he turns back to me and raises his eyebrow with an otherwise blank expression. I can’t finish the sentence. I don’t even know what I want to say. The passion has vanished in him and he feels cold and distant to me, like he has just switched me off and dismissed me. I stutter a little, trying to find a sentence to tell him how I feel but all the words just get lodged in my throat so I decide it’s probably best just to get in the car and leave. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Elizabeth,” he responds with a frown, as he turns again and walks into the house, slowly closing the door behind him.
Andrews shuts the door behind me and I snuggle into the seat. Gazing out of the window as the gravel crunches beneath the car, I watch the moon glinting in the sky and wonder what the hell happened this evening. In the space of five hours I have been through so many emotions I can’t even remember what the first one was. Ah yes, excitement, then passion as he approached, then indecision about sex, then fear and eventually exhilaration about the bike. Then came shock and sympathy about his revelation, followed by yet more confusion and fear when I watched him explode at me, then the humiliation of thinking it might be over and finally chastisement as he told me the only way forward was his way. Lovely.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I lean my head against the window and wonder what it would be like to live in a world where emotions didn’t have such an impact on every move you made, where you made decisions based only on what you wanted and didn’t care to be interested in the opinions or feelings of others. Because that’s the world that Alexander White lives in, isn’t it? He chooses to regard people’s emotions as inconsequential or irrelevant to his cause. He only uses their feelings to help manipulate them or influence their decisions to his advantage. Other than that, feelings have obviously become an irritation he isn’t prepared to deal with or even acknowledge as relevant in his world. Yes, he’s tried to open up with me and look where that’s gotten him? He admitted himself that he felt as if he was an emotional wreck because of it, because of me. What have I done to him? How have I managed to break through the confinements in his mind? And how the hell am I ever going to manage to do it again now that he’s shutting me out of it? That’s exactly what these two weeks are going to be about. It’s his way of regaining the control he desperately needs and readdressing his balance. He’s going to use my inability to ask more of him to draw his own power back towards himself and away from me.
I smile as the car pulls by the coffee shop the girls frequent and I think of good times, times when my life seemed less complicated and more relaxed. Only a month ago I would have been simply enjoying life and not constantly thinking of the whirlwind that is Alex. It’s worrisome given what I’ve agreed to now. When was the last time I just thought about work and really enjoyed a day in my kitchen without worrying about things or being consumed by him?
The car draws to a stop outside my apartment building and I move to open the door. Nothing happens.
“It’s locked, ma’am. Wait, I’ll come round,” Andrews says as his door slams.
“Thank you for delivering me safely, Andrews,” I say as he holds my hand and helps me out.
“You’re welcome, ma’am,” he replies with a frown, refusing to meet my eyes and turning his head from me.
“Are you okay, Andrews? You look a little worried about something?” I ask, genuinely concerned.
“I was about to ask you the same thing, ma’am but I thought better of it,” he replies with a tense scowl and a huff of what appears to be frustration. What is he talking about?
“I’m fine, but thank you for thinking of me. I am just a little confused if I’m honest. I seem to be that way a lot lately,” I exclaim, looking at the floor.
He shifts a little on his feet and turns his brown eyes on me.
“If he ever makes you really nervous ma’am, all you have to do is shout. I’m never far away,” he says with conviction and a small sneer. Oh, that’s what he’s talking about.
“It was just a misunderstanding, Andrews, that’s all. Please don’t think anything of it.” I can’t believe I’m having to discuss this with him. “Where do you stay in the house?” I question, hoping to change the subject completely because it was hard enough to go through at the time let alone discuss again.
“I have a flat on the top floor, ma’am,” he replies as he walks me toward the entrance to the building.
“Oh right. Well thank you again for getting me home. Goodnight,” I say, pushing open the door.
“Goodnight ma’am,” he replies with a smile.
He watches me until I get into the lift and then I see him walk away.
What the hell was that about? Why would Andrews have said something like that? Was he inferring that Alex could become a little too exuberant with his anger sometimes? Surely not after the childhood he had. Having said that, he didn’t hold back when that Draven chap tried to touch me.
As I open the door and walk towards my bedroom, I notice Conner’s laptop bag on the hall table and smile at the thought of my sister falling in love. It’s
about time really. Three years since that bloody bastard broke her body and destroyed her faith in men. If I ever see him again in my lifetime, it will be far too soon. Marcus sodding Renfield - even the name sends a horrific shiver of disgust across my skin.
Sighing, I wrench off my clothes and crawl into my bed, feeling exhausted and slightly terrified by the thought of everything that’s happened today. Thankfully, sleep seems to pull me down immediately.
Chapter 25
Alexander
T he irritating receptionist gawped at him with the look of a sex-starved hussy as he made his way to the elevator. She was quite a pretty thing really but she held nothing of interest for him. Positive she’d probably give him everything on a plate if he asked for it, he gave her a quick wink just to keep her interested and to let her think she’d have a chance someday. The moment he did it, he felt a nervous sensation prick the skin at the back of his neck. Was that fucking guilt? Okay, it was a sensation he was feeling a little more lately, but he couldn’t ever remember feeling it with regard to a woman. Yes, other things, which probably did deserve the sensation, but not a woman.
He’d waited for her until midnight the night before, hoping she’d make an appearance at INK just so he could watch her, but she hadn’t. He’d sat in his office all night long like a nervous damned schoolboy on tenterhooks, willing her to enter those double doors so that he could gaze at her stunning body, but he’d been left frustrated when she didn’t appear.
What the fuck did he expect? He’d just ripped away the heart that she’d so bravely given - to him of all people - with trust and an absolute unwavering faith that he’d look after it. She’d knelt in front of him and graced him with words he neither deserved nor expected and he’d rewarded her by offering nothing in return, only his inflexible approach to the relationship he knew she was craving from him.
Seeing White Page 42
