Seeing White

by Charlotte E Hart

  Fumbling around a bit, I manage to sort out the espresso button and hit it with hope. Luckily the coffee drips beautifully into the small glass so I hit it again then abruptly decide it’s a very appealing looking drink, quite chic really, so I sort another one out for myself and move across to the table, grabbing the sugar bowl on the way.

  “What do you have planned today?” I ask as I load sugar into my glass.

  “I have to pick out some new stock and then I have the enviable task of watching girls wrap themselves around, in, and then on various forms of equipment for the afternoon. I wish it were as exhilarating as it sounds but it can become somewhat tiring after a while,” he replies as he lifts the coffee to his lips and gazes toward the garden. “I keep meaning to have these doors installed at home,” he continues aimlessly.

  “Pascal, you surprise me. Are you telling me that you’re dissatisfied with your lifestyle?” I ask with a small chuckle. “And where is home for you?” I never have found out where he lives.

  “My dear, when you have done this as long as I have, you find yourself searching for something a little more worthwhile, meaningful even. It’s quite irrational really,” he says as his eyes soften. “Unfortunately, watching you with Alexander last night reminded me of another time in my life that I rarely revisit.”

  “More is essential, Pascal. I don’t think I’ll ever be complete with anything less than more,” I reply, thinking of Alex with a smile as I hug my arms around myself. His smile widens to reveal a genuine openness. It’s quite lovely.

  “Believe me, Elizabeth, you already have more. You may have to give him a little time to realise it though. He is such a stubborn soul, beautiful, but stubborn nonetheless,” he says as he delivers a radiant boyish smile that shows me what he was before the Pascal of today. Gone is his mask of devilment or depravity, his eyes are almost kind and his demeanour is completely relaxed as he picks up his drink and drains the last of it. “I must go. I am already late. You are quite the distraction, my dear. I know what he means now,” he says, rising from the table and straightening his tie.

  Reaching for my hand, he places a kiss on it and moves towards the hall.

  What? He knows what Alex means? What does he know?

  “Pascal, please tell me what you mean by that. You know him so well and I… Look, please give me something to go on here. He gives away so little,” I ask as I reach for my coffee again and sigh.

  His eyes narrow a little as he stares across at me. I can see the wheels turning in his mind. What should he say? Should he say anything at all? Eventually he offers his hand to me, gesturing for me to get up.

  “Dance with me, my rose.” What?

  “Pascal, there’s no music. We’re listening to the bloody radio.” And dancing with him could be very dangerous, especially in this shirt. His smile flattens as his eyebrow goes up, showing his impatience. It’s so much like the man upstairs that I can’t help but smile to myself.

  I giggle as I get up and move into his grasp. His body presses up to mine immediately as he gracefully positions me into his hold and begins to twirl me around. The feel of being scantily dressed and pulled up against him is undeniably disconcerting and I find myself trying to ease back a bit. He increases his hold violently, tugs me towards him again and leans into my ear.

  “He gives you everything, my rose. He gives you his home, his bed, his solace in Rome, and whether he wants to admit it or not, he gives you his heart. I have never seen him so infatuated and it is not hard to see why,” he whispers as he kisses my neck gently. “You are everything he needs and yet nothing that he wants. For him to realise this relationship, he will have to embrace his own inadequacies.” Shivers spark across my skin as his tongue darts across me. He feels it, and as he digs his fingers into my waist and exhales, forcing me even tighter toward him as he lowers his hand. My bloody core clenches. I can’t help it. “That is not easy for men like us. We do not do well with real feelings. They are limiting for us and we do so hate to be limited, Elizabeth.”

  I gasp at the feel of him hardening against my stomach and push backwards a little to try and create some space because I have to stop this. I must. It’s ridiculous to be anywhere near this, let alone enjoying it. He spins me away from him and lets go of my hand, leaving me feeling rather confused by his actions, totally turned on to the point of no return, and yet somehow remarkably comforted by his words.

  I stare at him, panting like a fool as he smiles wickedly and licks his lips. One wrong move and he will take me, here, in the kitchen. I know it, and he knows it. I have no idea whether to look him in the eye or stare at the floor but those green eyes are so consuming that I’m struggling, a lot. I am absolutely not in control at this moment. He’s disturbingly tempting. It’s like a sodding cloud of fairy dust is working some kind of magic. Vampires have that ability, don’t they? That thought thing they do, whatever it is, is he doing that? Christ, I need a cross or something. Perhaps those fucking fairies might step in and save me, please.

  He hasn’t removed his eyes, not once, and I still can’t breathe properly but I haven’t looked away at least. Well, I hope that was the right thing to do. He eventually smirks and reaches for his cigarettes on the table.

  “You are quite extraordinary, my dear. I am glad I have had my perverse moment with you. I have wanted to hold you for quite some time. It was worth every second of the risk but please do me the courtesy of not telling him. I fear I may get a severe beating from him if he hears of it.” His brow furrows a little. “Actually, I might enjoy that so tell him if you like,” he says with a wink as he fiddles with his cufflinks and turns for the hall. I feel the smile grow across my face at the thought of the argument that would ensue between the two of them and then wonder why Pascal would enjoy a beating. It’s quite bizarre, but then so is he to be fair.

  “When will we see you again?” I call as he passes through the door. It’s more for preparation purposes than politeness.

  “You may see me whenever you wish, Elizabeth. You have my card. Call me... For any reason. It would be my honour to entertain you, or fight for you should you request it,” he says conspiratorially as he waves over his shoulder and ambles his way rather sexily up the hall.

  “Goodbye, Pascal. Thank you,” I whisper as I exhale a held in breath and shake my head at whatever it was that just happened.

  “’Until the next time, my dear. I look forward to it and you are most welcome,” he calls casually.

  How the hell did he hear that? Definitely a vampire.

  Another hour passes as I read a paper and listen to the radio, sipping at my third espresso and looking out into the wonderful garden. I keep recalling Pascal’s words in my head and trying to make sense of the relationship I’m currently in with the enigmatic man upstairs. I’m just starting to wonder whether I should wake the beautiful Mr. White up when the news comes on so I listen to the random information that is thrown at me and crunch down on another piece of toast.

  “And tonight, of course, is the much talked about charity ball in aid of Addisons at the Ritz. Since its humble beginnings, The Addisons Foundation has raised millions to help victims of childhood abuse and it continues to grow in stature year on year. Several celebrities and major business tycoons are likely to be in attendance and of course, patron and founder, Mr. Alexander White will be hosting as usual. The event begins the season’s festivities as it does every year and we’re sure that the discerning and rather unfairly gorgeous Mr. White will be doing his damndest to relieve people of their money in aid of a very worthy cause. Well done, sir. And now to the weather...” the woman says as I try to process the information I have just heard.

  The Addisons Foundation? Alex? Clearly I’ve heard of it but I never knew Alex had anything to do with it. How have I missed that piece of information? Mind you, until the last few weeks, someone could have said his name and I wouldn’t have even known who he was. Wow! Millions for a charity that must be so close to his heart. No one could know wh
y though, surely? A sudden thought hits me. Does he expect me to go with him tonight? If so, I certainly have nothing to wear with me. I doubt he’ll want me with him at such a prestigious event anyway, will he?

  Just as I move across the room to the coffee maker to start my fourth espresso, I hear footsteps padding down the hall. Smiling at the thought of him and feeling my body tighten, I flick the switch all the way up again. Damn that Pascal.

  “Good morning, gorgeous,” he says as he spins me around to face him, drags me towards his lips for a glorious kiss and then smiles his truly mouth-watering smile. It reminds me of how little Pascal actually has on this man. He’s really not even close. So why I go all panty and ridiculous around him is a little annoying. I need to work on that and quickly.

  “Good morning,” I reply, looking into those hypnotizing blue eyes and draping my arms over his exposed shoulders.

  “You must be wearing me out, young lady. I can’t remember ever sleeping this late. I feel remarkably well rested now though. When did you get up?” he asks, reaching for a coffee glass.

  “About two hours ago. Pascal said goodbye, by the way,” I reply as I press the button, pouring two more coffees. He gazes at the glasses side by side for a moment and seems lost in thought then snaps out of it abruptly.

  “You saw him, dressed like that?” he mutters, his body stiffening as he pushes away from me. Oh god, here we go with the pissed off thing.

  “Yes, I did, and don’t get all snippy about it. You could have told me he was staying and then I would have dressed more appropriately,” I reply in my calmest voice, trying to quieten him before he launches. And given what actually happened, I really don’t want to get into a conversation about it so I wander off casually.

  “Right, well I hope he at least behaved himself. Although he more than often doesn’t,” he mumbles to himself as he sits at the table and pulls out a chair for me.

  “He was a perfect gentleman, well, as gentlemanly he can be,” I reply with a giggle. He rolls his eyes and picks up the paper I’ve been reading.

  “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you’d be at work by now, although I’m very glad you’re not,” he asks, continuing with his slightly sulky face but winking at me.

  “I could say the same, Mr. White. It seems making millions is easier than I thought,” I reply with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “I took the day off. I have the Stevely dinner to do on Sunday. Well, I do if the new cooker arrives on time, so we often swap days off when we can.”

  “Making millions is easier than you think, baby. It’s keeping them that takes up the time,” he says with a sardonic grin. “What do you mean new cooker?”

  “Oh, I didn’t tell you? I almost set the building alight yesterday. The old one blew up. Not a surprise really, everything’s so old. We desperately need new premises really. It’s just getting too small for us now. Just a few more clients and we’ll talk to the bank about new investment. Hopefully they’ll agree and we can get somewhere bigger and leave the shop as a bakery. Mum’s struggling to help me with the larger parties now and I don’t want to push her any further than I have to. She wasn’t well a while ago and I’m not helping her go back that way,” I reply, rambling with a resigned sigh as I sip my coffee and gaze longingly at the garden. The rain pelting against the window still doesn’t lessen its appeal to me. If I had wellies with me, I’d be seriously considering going out in it.

  “How much do you need?” Alex asks inquisitively, scrolling his thumb across his phone and frowning a little.

  “Oh, I don’t know exactly. It’s a bit irrelevant at the moment anyway as we need more income for the sort of loan we’re talking about. Mind you, White Industries have certainly helped our company profile. Belle is struggling to fit all the enquiries in lately,” I say with a giggle. “Thank you, Mr. White.”

  “Mmm... Well I have very discerning colleagues, Miss Scott. Having said that, you are very good at what you do. In all areas, I might add,” he replies with a smirk as he picks up my hand and sucks in a finger. “Now, since I have you all to myself, what would you like to do today?”

  “Well, by the sound of it, you have a rather important charity ball to host this evening so I expect you’ll want to relax a bit, won’t you? Seriously, don’t you ever damn well work?” He chuckles and raises an eyebrow.

  “I don’t do relaxing all that much and yes I do bloody work, very hard actually, you little minx. Let me take you out somewhere. I’m sure you probably need a dress for tonight. How did you know about the ball?” he says, reaching for my hand. Oh, he does want me to go.

  “You want me to go with you?” I ask, genuinely bemused but secretly elated.

  “Of course I do. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before but to be honest, I haven’t really been sure if you’d still be willing to go with me. We have been a little at odds recently, haven’t we?” he says as a quite adorably shy smile slides across his lips. I feel the blush rise over my cheeks as I think of coming home from Rome and then the fight. What the hell is actually going on between us now is still a slight quandary. If last night is anything to go by then maybe we’re back on track.

  “Yes, we have. Well, I’d love to go but I can get a dress from home, thank you. You will not spend any more money on me, Mr. White,” I reply, looking to the table and fiddling with my bracelet. I can’t accept it. I won’t. Enough really is enough.

  His eyes snap to mine and narrow. The crease of a frown crosses his brow as he speaks.

  “The agreement was that you would do as you’re told, Elizabeth, and not question me. I expect you to adhere to that. I’ll buy you a new dress and shoes and the whole fucking shop if I choose to and you’ll accept it graciously.” He growls as he steels me with his ever-darkening eyes. Oh right, maybe I do have to accept it then - not quite as back on track as I thought, obviously. It’s only two weeks, Beth.

  “Okay,” is all I can manage as I bite my nails and hope it’s enough to cool his mood. His damn smirk does not go unnoticed.

  “Well that was easier than I thought it was going to be,” he says as he grins and looks back at his phone vibrating on the table. Bastard. I’m really not going to be able to play this game. I can feel my hackles rising at the thought, to be honest. “Now, how did you hear about the ball?”

  Sudden images of that little boy with a blood soaked face hit me and all my anger disappears. Christ, it must be hell for him to deal with this charity, to have to feel it all over again and remind himself of his own trauma.

  “The radio. Seems you’re quite the hero, Mr. White. The Addison Foundation? Wow. Why didn’t you tell me?” I say with soft eyes and the warmest smile I can find. I can’t help but feel his pain at the very idea of the reason for the event.

  “It never came up,” he says with a shrug as if it’s a small thing.

  “I think it’s wonderful. In fact, I think you’re wonderful. It must make you feel fantastic to know that you’re achieving something so important for others. You really are very special. You know that, don’t you?”

  He looks to the floor for a few moments, some odd emotion passing across his face, a little forlorn maybe, then quite abruptly stands and grasps onto my hand pulling me up to him with eyes suddenly full of desire and lust.

  “Enough talking now. I think I want to take what’s mine in my own home. Yes, I think that counter top looks very appealing. We have not christened enough of this house at all.” Oh! Picking me up and depositing me on top of the counter, he pushes my legs apart and yanks me towards him. “I like you in my shirts - great access but these will have to go,” he says as he rips the side of my panties and throws them over his shoulders. I immediately flood down below at the intensity of the situation. How the hell he manages to pull this out of me is anyone’s guess. Unbuttoning the fly on his jeans, he lets himself spring free and pulls my hand down to his waiting erection. I grip on tightly and run my thumb over the top of him and watch as his mouth parts in ecstasy. I love that I can do thi
s to him and it only increases the need to have him inside me, where he belongs. Groaning as my hand travels the length of him, he rips the shirt apart, sending buttons flying and takes my nipple into his mouth roughly, biting at it and massaging the other one between his finger and thumb.

  “Oh god, yes...” I call as I tip my head back and let his mouth take me.

  Quickly shoving me backwards and downwards so I’m stretched flat on my back on the peninsular, he climbs up and positions himself between my legs, then reaching in between us, he pushes his fingers inside me and draws them up to my mouth.

  “Taste it, baby. Taste how ready you are for me. I fucking adore how you taste,” he growls as he slides his fingers into my mouth and then kisses me, licking and sucking at my lips. “Tell me you want me inside you, Elizabeth. Ask me to fuck you.”

  “Yes, I want you. I want you inside me, Alex. Please...” I practically beg as my body starts to convulse while he rubs himself against my already very sensitive nub. Pushing my legs back and wrapping them around his waist, he forces his whole weight down on me and drives himself inside me with one fierce stroke.

  “Oh Christ, that feels so fucking good. I could do this all day with you,” he groans out as he continues his tortuous attack and pushes back in again, deeper.

  “Yes... Oh, yes...” the feel of him inside me again, consuming me, it’s like a drug I can’t get enough of. Each movement of his hands or body seems to align with my mind, as if he senses exactly which part of me needs attention next so delivers it perfectly. That closeness comes flooding back into my mind, that ability to read where the other needs to be.

  He raises himself up and pulls me back towards him with a violent tug, dragging my back up the counter as he kneels and wrenches me onto his cock again. My shoulders take my weight as he continues with his powerful thrusts and lowers his hand to my sex, rubbing slow circles and increasing the pressure gradually, easing the next round of pleasure from me.