“I dress the way I want to dress and you know that, Xan,” I said dismissively.
He laughed. “Of course, but you know I can’t have you looking like that all the time. Might give guys the wrong idea about what’s mine.”
Of course. His fucking little porcelain doll. I smiled tightly and took a sip of my drink.
“You still drinking that filthy concoction?” he asked, looking askance.
“Of course! Negronis are not only tasty, they are cost efficient,” I parried back, smiling. “And I don’t share your obsession for red wine.”
“Well when you’re mine you won’t have to worry about cost. Whatever your heart desires will be yours.” Xander smiled smugly, as if I were shallow enough to be content to be with him because of his wealth. As I had mentioned earlier, the Burton-Foxes were filthy rich and they knew it. Maybe that’s why Isadora was so desperate to be with him, I thought cynically.
Not wanting to dwell on it, I said, “So when are we heading out?”
“After these.” He paused, thinking. “I can’t wait to show you off tonight.” He leered at me and I cringed back. Of course. He wanted to show me off to Blaise. Show him that this little doll belonged to him. What sickening alpha male behaviour. It was just a shame that was exactly what I hoped he would do. If the connection Blaise and I shared meant anything then this would hopefully cause him to act rashly. Show his hand early. Kickstart a chain of events which would conclude with us being together.
We sat awhile in the garden chatting about inane subjects and, thankfully, Xander appeared for all the world like a gentleman. It was exactly like Thursday night at La Fée Verte. His show on the underground was to intimidate me, to remind me that I belonged to him, and of the consequences if I were to defy him. When his little doll was playing nicely in her doll’s house he was, for all the world, a loving soulmate. I wasn’t sure if that was psychopathic or not.
Once we had finished our drinks, Xander called an Uber and I watched the world speed by as we sat in the back seat. I hadn’t thought about where they might live. I had assumed it might be somewhere bougie like Chelsea or South Ken, so I was initially surprised when the taxi traced a route through Camberwell and into Southwark. Then I realised it made perfect sense when I saw the intimidating, industrial-style building in a quiet alley punctuated by the thud of music from inside. The boys had grit about them. Diamonds in the rough as opposed to Xander’s clean-cut stone. Of course, they would eschew a typically fancy neighbourhood for something a bit more rugged.
We entered a sparse, concrete lobby where a cluster of people were waiting who I didn’t recognise. These must be the boys’ friends as I recognised most of Isadora’s thanks to Facebook and Instagram. They paid no heed to us but some of the boys cast lustful glances at me. In response, Xander shed his jacket and put it over my shoulders, glaring at them. Possessive fucker.
Once we arrived in the lift, we had to wait a while for the thick-set bouncer at the door to crosscheck us on the list and I wanted to roll my eyes. What twenty-something had a party this damn exclusive? It was pretentious. It assumed that everyone was oh so desperate to be a part of it.
The bouncer looked us up and down and said in a bored tone, “Name?”
“Xander Burton-Fox.”
Before the bouncer could reply, a discordant shriek echoed down the hallway. “Xan!” Isadora rushed forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m so glad you’re here. Barely any of us have arrived at the moment and it’s still just Blaise’s friends here. He’s still being so moody, think he’s hung up on someone but I’m sure I’ll…” She tailed off as she noticed me standing to one side and immediately she started glaring. “Xander. What the fuck is she doing here?”
He pulled me into an embrace and replied, “She’s my girlfriend. She has every right to be here.”
“I know. But I don’t want her ruining my engagement party. You remember what happened last time,” she said, the accusation heavily implied, before swinging her gaze onto me. “Also, don’t think I haven’t seen your little, slutty adventure last weekend.” She wiggled her fingers at me, the diamond fat and grotesque, before continuing, condescension dripping from every syllable. “He’s mine now, honey.”
Before I could respond, Xander kissed my head and replied, “Oh Izzie, you know she couldn’t care less about that. Little doll has completely moved on from her bout of hysteria, it was bound to happen to someone like her but we have resolved the issue. She won’t present a problem, I can promise you that.” His hand gripped my shoulder in warning so I gritted my teeth, refusing to defend myself from his patronising, demeaning words. If only he knew what my agenda really was.
She regarded me, mistrust clear in her small, piggy eyes before she said, “Why don’t you rejoin the party and us girls will be out in just a moment, hm?” He nodded his head, leaving me with a kiss on his head. Traitorous bastard. Isadora looked at me like I was a bug she wanted to squash and I shivered but then quickly remembered I could stand up for myself. “What the fuck are you doing here ‘little doll’?” she sneered, pausing to run her gaze up and down. “Or should I say little slut?”
I smiled. Xander was right. The outfit had clearly worked. He was also right about her jealousy. I could feel it rolling off her in toxic, green fumes. Like chlorine gas. “I am here with Xander because I’m his girlfriend.”
“It didn’t look that way last weekend,” Isadora snarled. “I saw your Instagram and you were very cosy with my fiancé. Why the fuck do you always want to take what is mine?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that question?” I replied coolly, regarding her as my eyes adjusted to the darkness.
She hissed, barely containing her anger. “Tread very carefully or I could have you thrown out of this party like that.” She clicked her fingers, the sound reverberating like a gunshot.
I put my hands up, trying to placate her. “Xander and I patched things up. It was a wobble and the only wobble we’ve had for almost ten years. I am not going anywhere near your man so don’t worry.”
She regarded me, mistrust hanging like a guillotine over my neck, but eventually she sighed. “And so long as it stays that way I see no reason for us to not let childish bygones be bygones.” She pulled me in for a hug and I unwillingly squeezed her back, breathing in her noxious perfume. She finally let me go before squealing falsely, “Let’s go now! I’m sure Xander is waiting for you.”
Plastering the biggest smile on my face I responded in kind and we headed to what I assumed was a sitting room; a large, bare space with minimal furniture and an ornate chandelier hanging perilously from the ceiling. The shutters were closed and the light was dim, illuminated by the odd lamp and the air was translucent thanks to the occasional smoker. A DJ was positioned in the corner, the source of the thudding beats, and servers wove their way through the throng with various canapés.
Isadora still remained by my side, thrumming with excitement. “Look! Isn’t this amazing?” she exclaimed.
It was impressive, I had to give her that. I suddenly felt out of my depth like I had gone from swimming with minnows to diving with bloodthirsty sharks. What the fuck was I doing? I should have just accepted that Isadora had won yet again and gone on Hinge like a good little girl to find some nice, beige boy to keep me happy. None of this ostentatious opulence which hid the murky depths of murder, sabotage, and conniving players. Noelle was right. We should just steer clear of little boys pretending they were all big and scary with their stupid societies.
“So impressive, Izzy. I can’t wait for the parties you and Blaise are going to have!”
That seemed to appease her and she smiled smugly. “Oh they will be fantastic.” She then bent to whisper in my ear conspiratorially. “I feel there will be a baby shower soon enough.”
I felt very sick at the thought. The thought of Blaise fucking her, sticking his dick into her toxic, teeth-filled pussy, consummating their sordid affair, confirming that he was never mine to begi
n with. I was only a forty-eight hour fuck. A glorified prostitute.
Thankfully, Xander arrived bearing two glasses of champagne. “Here are my favourite girls,” he smiled, offering us both a glass.
Isadora smiled in return. “Aw, you’re so sweet but keep it. I have to go and welcome people, actually I think I can see some of my girls at the door. But I am so happy that Xanthe and I have finally put our differences behind us.”
“Oh really? That’s fantastic!” Xander pulled me in for a hug. “Fucking finally, little doll. I’ve been telling you for years that Isadora wants to make up with you and you finally have done it. This will be so good that both of you are speaking.”
“I know, right!” she exclaimed, pulling us both into a hug. “I can’t wait for all the double dates, it will be so cute. Right, gotta run, much love, mwah.”
Fake bitch. I watched her disappear into the throng of people and downed my glass of champagne. This night was going from bad to worse. I needed to find Blaise.
I smiled up at Xander and said, apologetically, “Sorry babe, I’ve got to go find the bathroom. Is that okay?”
He smiled down at me and said, “No problem, little doll. Can see Ollie and some of the guys over there so I will go catch up. Find me later?”
“Of course. Will ring if there’s a problem.” I kissed him on the cheek and melted back through the crowds to the marginally quieter hallway.
One perk of being petite and five foot three was that I was easy to overlook, especially with dim lighting. No one cast me a second look as I slipped down the hallway. Intuition told me that Blaise, if I was right, would be waiting for me. He would surely know by now that I had arrived.
Peeking into the doors, I encountered a kitchen, a bathroom, and a few bedrooms. Then on my seventh try I opened a door that smelt spicy, like Blaise. This must be his room, I guessed. At least I hoped so because if it wasn’t and Isadora found out then she would be watching me like a hawk, back to not trusting me.
The room was dark and I had to tread gingerly to avoid the dark lumps of furniture to reach the far side which emitted a soft yellow glow. It turned out to be a small roof-terrace, the edges lined with fairy-lights made of lightbulbs.
A man was standing at the far edge, looking out over the luminescence of the city. Blaise. I could tell by his dark head, and the stretch of material over his shoulders.
“Xanthe,” he said, knowing it was me. My cover was blown.
I walked up next to him, looking out over the view. “Blaise,” I said quietly.
“I hear that your budding romance is rekindled,” he said disdainfully.
I scoffed that. “Why would an engaged man even care about that?”
He looked at me consideringly. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.” I shivered at his words, waiting for him to continue. “I see that my needy girl has come to pay her price for making a deal with the devil.” He arched an eyebrow, reminding me of the heady club in Paris. The hedonistic blur of the weekend. My complete submission to Blaise. “If only you had stayed away,” he murmured, caressing my cheek and causing me to tilt my head further into his touch. “I wanted to let you go. I tried to let you go. I told you it was the kindest thing I could do for you.”
“The Eurostar,” I murmured.
“I tried to protect you. The worst has happened,” he choked out, his voice full of pain as if the syllables had to navigate barbed wire.,
“And why can’t you renege on it?” I demanded, feeling my core heat in response to his words, needing him. “Why did you have to push me away like that? Most girls wouldn’t have come back like I have. Most girls would have kept the fuck away…” I trailed off, the impact of my words hitting me. By pursuing Blaise, I was dancing too close with Xander who would stop at nothing to lock me up. Maybe I should have stayed away. I continued, my anxiety reducing my words to the scarcest whisper. “Maybe I should have been like most girls.”
“I wanted to push you away. There is no chance that we could run away as I don’t have everything ready. The Club still watches my every move. We can’t just run away with a meagre few thousand as an escape fund.” He laughed at that dismissively.
I wanted to stamp my foot in frustration but I kept my calm. “And could we not be happy in poverty?”
“They would find a way to separate us.”
They. The Club. The fucking Club. “Can we not hide?”
He chuckled darkly. “Oh my sweet, innocent girl. Money grants you invisibility; fake passports, private jets, sustenance, and shelter. Without that they would find us.” I pouted at his words tumbling forth. “This is only temporary. We belong together.”
“Do we, though? How can I overlook you being with another woman? Not just anyone. Isadora,” I replied, unable to mask the pain.
“Blood in, blood out, sweetheart,” Blaise replied.
“What?” I replied, confused.
“In The Club one of our initiation rites is the exchanging of blood via a handshake. Blood in, blood out.” He paused. “I tasted your sweet nectar in Paris, you have signed our contract in blood.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “I knew that when I pushed you away. I didn’t want you to be entangled but that didn’t stop me from wanting to keep you.”
The bastard. He could try all he wanted to pretend that he didn’t want to have me but in reality, he had staked his claim at the very beginning. Signed the contract in blood. My blood. “Surely a contract signed under duress is void?” I choked out.
“I don’t think it was made under duress…I think you enjoyed it very much.”
My cheeks heated at the memory, my core tightening but I continued, trying to stay focused. “So, what does that mean for me?”
“It just means that you have made a deal with the devil. Alia iacta est as some might say. How will you repay the devil? How will you cross our Rubicon?” I looked up at him, astounded, unable to form words at the insanity he was speaking. “I am not ready to give up on you yet, Xanthe. Our time was cruelly snatched from us. Why don’t we have a little fun and see where it goes?”
“Even if you’re engaged to Isadora?” I asked, my thoughts scrambling for comprehension. Would I be so bold? It would be just revenge for her hatred but I hadn’t thought I would get to this point. It was all hypothetical. Would I have the mental strength to be the other woman?
“Stop overthinking. I will look after you.” Blaise murmured, pressing a heady kiss to my lips. I willingly opened in return, eager to taste him once more.
“Alia iacta est.” I murmured against his lips, feeling his body thrum with excited satisfaction.
“On your knees, darling,” he demanded.
I dropped to my knees, eager desperation pulsing through me. Blaise, a vengeful, ancient deity standing tall above me, limned by London’s polluted night sky. Merciless. Hellbent on receiving his dues. His sacrifice. Me. His sacrificial lamb.
“Suck,” he said, lighting up a cigarette, the incandescent orange burning bright against the darkness.
I pressed a kiss to his stomach before opening his jeans, feeling his dick heavy in my hands. I pressed a kiss to the tip, my tongue darting out to taste the precum beading there, and felt satisfaction at his unrestrained moan. I licked up the length of him before taking him all into my mouth, sucking him like he was my favourite ice lolly, enjoying the uniquely spicy, masculine taste that was all Blaise.
I gripped his cheeks trying to get him to come closer, to dominate me like I knew he wanted to and he moaned again. I looked up at him to see him exhale a plume of smoke, his face tortured. “Are you sure, babe?” he asked, looking down on me. I sucked him harder and in response to my affirmation he began to cant his hips back and forth, fucking my face, robbing me of my breath. I moaned, excitement pooling in my core and began stroking myself to try and find some release. Spurred on, his pace picked up with renewed desperation before spilling himself into my mouth, pulling me over the edge not long after, leaving me shaking on the floor. A puddle of desir
e.
Alia iacta est.
We stayed like that for a moment later. A frozen tableau of sin. What had we agreed on? Where would this path of destruction take us?
Blaise seemed to have an uncanny knack of hearing my thoughts and helped me up to a worn sofa, dropping down on it and helping me settle in his lap, running a hand over my head, soothing my racing thoughts. “Are you okay, darling?” he asked, lighting another cigarette and handing it to me.
I pulled, enjoying the taste of nicotine mingling with a flavour that was uniquely Blaise while I considered his words. The infinity of the meaning was implicit. I looked at him, trying to convey my trust with all I had and said firmly, “I am. I trust you. I don’t know what I’ve got involved into but I’m sure it’ll work itself out.” I paused, smiling. “At least that’s what Noelle says.”
He laughed. “I like her. She’s wise beyond her years.” He paused. “It will be. You just have to trust me.”
I pouted at that, exhaling a plume of smoke in his face. “What if I can rescue us?”
“The princess rescuing her white knight. A modern fairytale.”
I slapped him in mock offence. “I meant it, babe. I can do the rescuing too.”
Blaise considered me, adoration shining in his gaze. “I don’t doubt it.” He pressed his lips to mine, allowing me to lose myself in him once more. We stayed like that for a while longer before he spoke with regret heavy in his vowels. “We’ll have to go back before people get suspicious.”
I sighed. He was right. But I didn’t want to break the spell we had woven. I wanted to stay like this forever and not go back to the sordid reality we were entangled in. I allowed him to lead me from the roof-terrace, hand in hand, before I left him in his room, seeking out Xander.
He would be so mad. I had been gone for easily half an hour. There was no way I could blag an excuse of just being in the bathroom. Hopefully no one had seen Blaise and I so there should be zero suspicion, especially after Isadora and I had supposedly patched things up.
Little Doll: Queens of Chaos 1 Page 20
