Freeing Alex (The Alexandra Drake Series)

by Ashley, Sarah Elizabeth

  I lie in my bed, just thinking about the day, the weeks and months since I heard about Maggie. It’s all so surreal, my mind drifts here and there and I still can’t quite believe everything. My mobile bleeping interrupts my thoughts. Reaching for it from my bedside table, I see a text from James.

  Thk u so much 4 raise. U don’t no how much it means. J

  I tap a quick reply before pulling myself under the duvet.

  U r most welcome & tks 4 strawberries. Alex X

  He replies almost instantly.

  They’re good 4 u!

  Umm. I tap a quick reply before attempting sleep.

  Well thank u anyway. Going to sleep Alex X

  I have a restless night, waking myself up during the early hours by dreaming about my past. I’m thinking about Lewis and hoping he doesn’t do anything stupid and just agrees to the terms of the divorce as they are. I’m thinking about My James (yes, he’s My James now, well, in my dreams anyway), the Bossman, but I know I shouldn’t be. For one, he must be ten years younger than me, and for two, I’m his employer, but why shouldn’t I think about him? I ask myself. Oh, the thought of that man makes me quiver – the lean body, the big dark eyes, the olive skin, his scent and those lips, not to mention that fine head of hair, how I would love to run my fingers through that… Alex, stop it, he may find you repulsive! I can’t help the attraction, it’s biology! I think about what I said to him earlier, that I liked him – I’m embarrassed at the thought. Will I be able to look at him again without flushing? I bet he’s lying there with some young floozy. Well, if I believe the receptionists, he’s bound to be.

  I eventually drift off again to a restless sleep and wake up to my alarm beeping away. My first thought is of James waking on someone’s sofa, not good – I need to be a good employer and make sure he’s sorted.

  Chapter 5

  I shower and wash my hair quickly, blasting it dry. Being dead straight, I never have to worry about it curling the wrong way, unlike the battles that Anna has in the mornings. I dress casually in my Levi’s, a gingham shirt and a pair of tan flat pumps. If I’m shopping with Anna later I’d better be comfortable.

  Leaving the house, I grab my bag and head towards my car. I’ve a love-hate relationship with the Audi. If I was at home – no, this is home – if I was in Staffordshire I would have no problem in driving the beast. It’s not the car, it’s the town, the streets that are the problem, not to mention the other drivers, they’re all lunatics, and given that I’m not used to the geography of the place it’s a triple whammy.

  Dropping my bag and a document file onto the front seat, I settle myself behind the wheel and carefully navigate my way to the hotel and into the car park. Parking in my usual place, I note that there’s a very old Vauxhall in the General Manager’s space. I hadn’t noticed it before and wonder if it belongs to James. I lock the car, gather my things and make my way through the recently completed new corridor. There are one or two people in the swimming pool, I’m pleased it’s being used.

  I pass staff and try my best to acknowledge everyone as I walk through the foyer and into the Staff Only area. I’m sure that most of the people I speak to have no idea who I am, but they must have seen me around before, they’ll get to know me eventually. I walk into James’s office and toss my bag and the file onto the chair. No James!

  I flick the kettle on to make myself a tea. Rooting through the small fridge, I find milk that looks like it was opened yesterday. I sniff it – it doesn’t smell off, must be okay. I’ve just added the water to my mug when Roger walks in.

  “Morning, Mrs Drake, can I have a word?” he asks, his Action Man-like figure filling the doorframe.

  “Sure, Roger, what’s up?” I ask brightly. “Tea?” I offer.

  “No thanks, just had one. I needed to get a budget for some temporary security, there’s that big event happening two weeks today, you know, the one for the Premier League footballers. We’ll need extra staff, expecting paparazzi. Thomas and I won’t be able to cover it on our own.” He’s very well spoken, this mountain of a man, I can’t help but wonder what Thomas is like.

  “I don’t think there’ll be a problem but you need to speak with James, he knows what budgets we have in place for this sort of thing. I also don’t want to tread on his toes. I’m sorry I can’t give you a yes or no now, but I’m sure it’ll be okay. Look, I’m expecting him any minute, why don’t you wait?” I know this place is mine and I could agree whatever budget he wants, but I said at the outset that I wouldn’t tread on any toes and I won’t.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind me waiting here?” he asks.

  “Of course, why would I mind? Are you sure you don’t want a cuppa? Why don’t you have a seat?” I nod towards the battered leather chairs in front of James’s desk.

  “I’m fine thank you, and I really have just had a coffee,” his deep voice rumbles.

  He slouches against the wall just inside of the office to the side of the doorframe. The guy really is massive.

  “Did you know Maggie?” I ask, making conversation.

  “Yes.” He smiles. “She was great. I thought the world of your aunt.”

  My aunt, I think. “Everyone says that.” I look down, stirring my drink. “I didn’t really know her, although I’ve learnt lots, and I mean lots, since she passed away.”

  We’re interrupted from our conversation with the arrival of James who walks through the open door into his office, straight past Roger, I don’t think he’s seen him.

  “Morning, Alex, you okay?” he asks with that huge smile.

  “I’m fine, thank you. Roger’s there.” I point to the doorway. “He wants to ask you something.”

  “Rog. How’s it going?” James turns towards the door, facing the huge security guy.

  Roger repeats himself to James about the additional budget for the Premier League Footballers bash. The budget is agreed and Roger is left to contact whoever he usually uses to sort out temporary staff. After he’s gone I start to make James a drink. I haven’t asked if he wanted one but I make it anyway.

  “I was worried about you last night… staying on a sofa!” I say quietly as I make his drink: coffee, black, no sugar.

  He stands in the middle of his office, hands in pockets. “Oh! You shouldn’t have, don’t worry, I was fine. I’ve called a few letting agents this morning, they’re going to send some details through to me.”

  “Good, but the offer’s still there.” I smile. “Seriously, if ever you get stuck.”

  “Thanks, but I’m sure it’ll all be okay – you’ll see!” he mutters.

  Walking around to his side of his desk, he starts flicking through supplier delivery notes. I turn around and pass him his mug. As he takes it from me, his hand brushes mine. I freeze. His very touch sends little exquisite shocks through my whole body, the feeling is divine. I can’t help it. I place my hand on his and look into his dark eyes, I must just stare at him. I mentally shake myself. “Sorry,” I mumble, looking down. I turn away back towards the kitchen unit.

  “No,” James says, his voice deep and sensual, “don’t be sorry, don’t. I feel it too.”

  He stands and walks over to me and places his palm on my back.

  “Please don’t be sorry, Alex. It’s all right, it really is.” He pulls me close into a hug. My head tucks neatly into his shoulder and for a moment I am overwhelmed. I’m finally free from years and years of neglect, it feels like reality has just whacked me in the face. Tears prick my eyes and before I know what’s hit me, I’m sobbing into his shoulders. I don’t know what’s come over me? Years of pent-up tension and finally the realisation that I’m free of that bastard, free of the hurt and pain.

  “Sssh,” he says softly. “Please don’t cry, please. Alex, don’t cry, please tell me what’s wrong, you know you can talk to me.” His voice is so tender, so comforting.

  “I’m… I… I just feel l… like the world has been lifted from my shoulders,” I stammer through the sobs. “I f-f-feel f
ree,” I whimper. I can’t look at him. I keep my head down, the weight of the world, of the abuse that I’ve carried around for what feels like forever, seemingly gone.

  James rubs my back slowly. What am I doing, letting him get so close? Isn’t this what I wanted? I ask myself. Yes, of course it is. But what about all the women he services?

  “It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.” His voice is so soothing.

  He guides me to that leather chair in front of his desk and sits me down. He kneels in front of me and pulls me close again, still maintaining that electrifying contact, not letting go. For a split second I have the feeling that I’m just another conquest, not that he needs them, apparently they come to him.

  He places his gentle fingers under my chin, lifting my face towards him. “Tell me. Tell me, Alex, what he did to you. What made you feel like this?” His voice is soft and husky, almost like he’s willing me to tell him.

  I shake my head. “I can’t!”

  “Why can’t you, what’s so bad that you can’t tell me? There really is nothing that shocks me!” He laughs. “Well, not much anyway!”

  I bet, I think, whilst trying my hardest to pull myself together. “I’m hideous,” I mumble.

  He laughs again. “You are anything but hideous. You’ve got an amazing figure, you’re very attractive, you’re kind and caring and you’ve bucket loads of compassion and I think you’re fabulously wealthy – why are you hideous?” His tone, questioning, intrigued by my statement.

  I pull myself away from James, shaking my head. My face must look horrendous, all screwed up, mascara running down my cheeks. I reach for my handbag and pull out a tissue. I try to wipe away the black streaks but without a mirror I can’t see what I’m doing, I’m probably making it worse.

  “Give it to me.” He takes the tissue from my hand and wraps it around his fingers, gently wiping the smudges from my cheeks. “There, that’s better,” he whispers. He stays on the floor, kneeling in front of me. Placing his hands on the top of my arms, his focus remains firm.

  “Tell me!” he says slowly, firmly. “Tell. Me,” he says again, punctuating his words as if to emphasise the demand. I look directly into the handsome face, the dark eyes willing me to reveal why I feel so, so desperate about myself. I think for a moment.

  “I can’t.” I lower my face, looking at my feet. “I can’t tell anyone!” Inside I’m wrecked, my stomach knotted, my heart racing. I feel choked, yet deep down I know it would be a relief for someone to know and James has become as good as a friend – more than just a friend, it would seem, at this moment in time. Although I’ve only known him a few weeks I think I can trust him.

  I whisper, pleading, “Can I trust you? Can I trust you to never say anything if I tell you, if I show you?”

  “I can’t promise that, it depends on what you say. What I can promise you is that I will listen.” His voice is soft, yet firm, yet full of compassion.

  I shake my head. “It’s embarrassing. I need to know that you will never tell anyone,” I mutter.

  “Is that the only way you’re going to talk to me about what’s upsetting you so much, if I promise never to tell anyone?”

  “Yes, that is the only way!” I look at him through tear-filled eyes. “It’s the only way.”

  “Then I promise, unless… unless you tell me that someone is going to be harmed, then I will have to do something, say something.” He’s looking at me, his words so firm.

  I compose myself, taking a breath or two. “I’m not going to tell you that anyone is going to be harmed, don’t worry, it’s nothing like that, but it is shocking and it’s what makes me hideous. Lewis made certain that no man would ever come near me ever again, that I’ll never have another man.”

  He’s confused, I can see in his beautiful face that he’s totally confused. He must think I’m some sort of crazy woman.

  “Tell me…” he demands quietly.

  Our eyes meet, his focus directly on me, nowhere else. “I’ll show you, I can’t speak the words,” I say flatly, my vision blurred from the tears.

  He frowns, totally confused. Now I know he thinks I’m some sort of mad-woman.

  I can’t believe I’m going to do this, I really can’t. Alex Drake, what the hell has come over you? Yesterday I felt so strong, so confident, and yet today I’m ready to crumble. The past, although I’m working on it, has clearly not yet left me.

  What am I doing? I slowly unbutton my shirt. I slip my left shoulder from the confines of the soft fabric and slide it down the top of my arm, letting it drop to waist level. James just stays kneeling in front of me, looking at me, his face looking so soft and compassionate. My M&S white bra at his eye level, he gasps. “Oh, Alex,” He looks at my breasts before moving his gaze to me as I sit in that chair, a complete mess, “you’re beautiful.” I break eye contact with him as I shuffle around in the chair, bringing my left shoulder into his view. There. Now he can see the repulsive scarring on my shoulder blade, the outline of the iron clearly visible.

  “Fuck!” James spits. “Your husband did this?” he hisses.

  I quickly pull my shirt back into place, tears blurring my vision again. “See, I’m monstrous and I’m useless,” I say, sobbing again.

  “Alex, Alex… Oh my love, you’re anything but monstrous and certainly not useless, look at what you’re doing here. You’re the most generous, compassionate, beautiful person anyone could wish to meet.” His voice is a low growl. “Alex, you’re beautiful.” His tone changes, his voice soft. He places his hand on my arm, the touch so wanted, I so desperately want to be held, to be loved.

  Reality hits me head on, “Who wants me branded with another man’s mark?” I snap. “Who… tell me who? Who wants me now? I’m not attractive, not any more.” I raise my voice, anger getting the better of me.

  I stand, pushing him away, shaking with anger, a further explosion of pent-up rage from the last twenty-two years finally surfacing. Poor James has the brunt of it. I need to release this anger, need to get it all out.

  “Come here.” He offers me his hand. “Come.” He’s talking softly to me. I take his hand and he pulls me gently into his arms. He holds me close, so very close and tight, as I sob and sob.

  “Let it all out, Alex. Come on, nobody can hear you in here. And you are beautiful, Alex, don’t let anyone tell you any differently, please,” he whispers.

  “I’m not, James. Not like those young women who visit you here, they’re beautiful,” I sob.

  He sighs. “It doesn’t happen often, Alex, and not since I met you. And they’re not beautiful – pretty, maybe, but not beautiful like you. Beauty is from within, it’s what’s inside. Anything can be pretty.” His voice becomes a deep growl.

  I must cry into his shoulder for what feels like hours, although I’m sure it’s not. When my sobbing reduces to a mere weep he places a finger under my chin and lifts my face to look at him, my red, screwed-up, tear-stained face.

  “I’m taking you home,” he announces – a statement, not a request or a question.

  I feel too weak and drained to protest. I need to sleep, I’m exhausted. James just holds me.

  “Where are your keys? In your bag?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  He picks up my bag and fumbles around for the keys. Once he has them he puts his arm through mine, pulling me up from the chair. Linking arms, we walk to the fire escape stairs and down to the ground floor. He’s careful to avoid any of the hotel staff or guests. On the way out we see Roger, who strides over. “Everything okay?” he asks.

  “Alex’s not feeling too good, Rog, I’m going to run her home. I’ll be back later,” James explains as we walk straight past.

  “Look after yourself.” Roger winks at me with a little smile as we leave.

  I’m too done in to answer. My emotions are all over the place. James walks me to my car, popping the locks on the way across the car park. He opens the passenger door and helps me into the seat. Leaning across me, he fastens my seatbe
lt, and after making sure my bag is safely in the foot well he closes the door and makes his way around to the driver’s side. As he slides into his seat he reaches into his pocket to the note with my address on, the one that I gave him yesterday. “Cheyne Row,” he says, “very nice – let’s get you home.”

  He makes the drive that causes me stress seem easy and we’re pulling up outside my home in record time. He opens his door and walks around to the passenger side where he helps me out. I’m shattered, I feel physically and emotionally exhausted. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” His voice is soft yet firm, like he’s taking control.

  I’m too done in to even acknowledge him. He guides me up the steps to my shiny front door. “Will Anna be in?” he asks. I nod in reply. He rings the doorbell and after a minute or two Anna answers.

  “Oh God! Mum!” Her hands fly to her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “A bad moment,” James explains. “Your mum needs to rest.” His tone is one of authority, he’s definitely taking charge.

  “Oh Mum!” Anna says again. “Bring her in, her room’s this way.” She talks about me like I’m an object, not her mum.

  Anna moves out of the way for James and me. I feel so drained. He bends slightly and places his arm behind my knees, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing. “Lead on,” he says to Anna, who is aghast at this young handsome man carrying her middle-aged mum upstairs to bed.

  We follow Anna through to my room at the front of the house. It’s large with a queen-size bed, a white wrought-iron frame, the bed high off the ground. My furnishings are plush and feminine. James sits me down on the edge of the bed. “Anna, help your mum get comfortable, I’ll wait outside.” He leaves, walking out onto the landing, leaving me with Anna, who knows nothing of what’s happened in the past.

  She helps me remove my jeans and pumps. I never thought that my darling daughter would be helping me to undress until I was at least eighty. She pulls the bed covers back and takes out my t-shirt that I sleep in from beneath, then she moves to my shirt buttons. “NO!” I shout, “NO!” Anna just looks at me, stunned. She shouldn’t be dealing with this, not yet, she’s too young. “Get James,” I whisper.