He cast a nervous glance to Ludo and Damien’s retreating backs before whispering hurriedly, “Now, I know Damien would flay me alive for this but I promised Gemma I would help you and Xanthe.”
My eyes almost fell out of my head at that. “You what?” I exclaimed, shocked.
“Shh! Now, listen carefully. Invite Xanthe to Dubois this weekend and see what happens. Despite being a moody bastard, the least you deserve is the truth. Seeing Xanthe will give you the truth and you can just say you met her coincidentally. Okay?”
I was stunned and pulled him into a hug, before releasing him quickly. The gesture was foreign to me but I was blown away by his support. “Of course, I will.”
He smiled. “For someone who’s so sceptical of love, you sure seem determined to pursue it.”
“Oh shut up.” I slapped him on the back, laughing. “Let’s go catch the others up before they get suspicious.”
Xanthe
Not having a job meant that I had lots of time on my hands, which was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t want to have the time to mope around an empty flat and look at my phone which still had nothing from Blaise. Instead it showed me Instagram which boldly displayed a post from Isadora of her and Blaise having a cute couples’ lunch. Clearly, she was all recovered now that she had my boy back, I thought angrily. She had sent me a DM, it was rank with fake friendship masking her ill-disguised smug victory, to congratulate Xander and I on our engagement. I had left it on read, not willing to engage with her preening. She hadn’t won Blaise, I would make sure of that.
I needed to distract myself but I was trapped in the flat. My friends were all working and I knew that Xander was keeping tabs on me before he flew to New York on Friday. How the fuck would Noelle’s plan of me escaping work? If it didn’t, I could very well find myself married and in New York by Christmas. All previous intentions of not getting daytime drunk had evaporated with the engagement so I made a gin and tonic to calm my nerves. I could not think about the inevitable. I needed to stay calm.
The doorbell sounded and I jumped so hard the gin went everywhere. Hope soared in my chest but when I opened the door, I was bitterly disappointed when no one was there. I almost closed the door, drowning in bitter disappointment, when I noticed a bouquet of roses, on the doormat. Their deep purple colouring was almost black and gave them the most beautiful, yet haunting shine. A white letter was peeking out, stark against the sultry colour of the flowers. Intrigued, I took it back into the flat and placed the roses in water before nervously opening the letter. Unfolding it, two tickets to an event fell out but I ignored them, focusing on the letter:
* * *
My dearest Xanthe,
* * *
Come to the event this Friday. You and Noelle. Gemma is going with Bastien. They didn’t invite you because of the situation, but he suggested that you meet me at Printworks as though it were a coincidence. Explain everything then.
* * *
Blaise x
* * *
I looked at the tickets. Dubois. Printworks. Friday. The day that Xander would be up in the air, en route to New York; far, far away from me.
The name rang a bell but for the life of me I couldn’t say why. There was only so much that I could remember from the past few weeks. That said, Dubois was familiar. I knew it from somewhere. Then it hit me. That night in Paris. That was the DJ at that club in Montparnasse. How romantic. Poetic almost. This would either come full circle in a nice neat bow or it would be a chance for us to start anew, to rewrite the horrors of the past few weeks. Friday was going to be eventful indeed.
I updated the girls when they got home from work. Noelle was brimming with excitement but Gemma was quiet. She didn’t voice any specific concerns but she was upset. I wanted to ask why but it hurt me that she wasn’t as excited as Noelle. It hurt me that I couldn’t confide in her because I was worried that she wouldn’t entirely sanction Blaise and I, but was more than happy to go off into the sunset with Bastien. Fucking hypocrite, in my opinion. She had given me her blessing but now she was going back on it and the betrayal cut me deeply.
The week dragged by painfully slowly because I didn’t have the tedium of work to fill my days, only wedding planning. Every hour of the day was filled with florist appointments, catering appointments, and the wedding dress fitting on Thursday. The perfect excuse for my mother to keep a close eye on me. Maxine had magnanimously agreed to organise it for me and reminded me of her gracious benevolence at every opportunity so I was relieved when Friday rolled around. Not only would I get a reprieve from wedding planning as my parents had left to go see friends in the country, but also Xander would be gone.
Maybe this presented an ideal chance to run away, I mused. I hadn’t heard anything from Noelle on that front either but I chose not to think too hard about it. If the opportunity presented itself, I would seize it and to hell with the consequences.
On Friday, I headed to Heathrow airport with Xander to see him off, and just like the fateful date only a week and a bit ago, we looked for all the world like a young couple in love. I could be a successful actress after this, I thought bitterly. Xanax washed down with gin and I’d be sound.
He gazed down at me, a look of concern mingling with adoration on his face. “It’s only a week, thankfully, Xan. I can’t wait to see you and to show you off as my fiancée at our party on Saturday.”
The mention of our engagement party choked me up. I had invited Blaise for the hell of it and surprise, surprise I hadn’t heard anything back. “I can’t wait!”
“I’ve got to run, Xan. Will message you when I land, kay?”
I smiled brightly at him. “Of course, Xan.” I kissed him before saying. “Meus ad infinitum.”
Satisfaction settled on his features. “Meus ad infinitum.”
I watched as he headed off for the gate and once he disappeared, I headed back to the carpark and drove his car back to London. The further I got and the more time elapsed, the freer I felt. I smiled with renewed confidence. I could do this.
When 7 pm rolled around, the excitement overcame me and I rushed into Noelle’s room as she was getting ready, brandishing a bottle of prosecco. She smiled at me and said, “What’s the occasion?” Laughing, she turned back to fixing her makeup and added, “Not that we need one of course.”
I giggled and sat on her bed, popping the cork. “The 7 p.m flight to New York should have departed.” She spun round to me and hugged me tightly, tackling me to the bed, the prosecco threatening to go everywhere. I laughed. “Hey, No-No, the prosecco!”
She scoffed dismissively, rolling onto her back and grinning at me. “Fuck the prosecco. Xanthe Anastasia Meylor is a free woman!”
I cheered at that and filled up our glasses, clinking mine with Noelle’s. I felt a pang of regret that Gemma wasn’t here, but she had banned us from pre-gaming with Bastien and the others. Of course, no one was going to trust Blaise and myself in the same flat.
We glammed ourselves up. Noelle played up to her witchiness with her sheer, black lace flares, a tiny black crop top that showed off her pentagram tattoo, and her pastel grey hair arranged in an artful messy bun on the top of her head. I had gone for my favourite metallic, strapless, gold dress that showed off my curves as well as my legs. I may only be five foot three but I was proud of my legs; long and slender. Drunk Xanthe really admired them as I kicked them up in the air, sipping the prosecco, with Noelle laughing all the while at me.
Noelle grabbed me then and we took plenty of pictures before piling ourselves into an Uber, watching London whizz by. Nerves seized at me as we approached, which I was thankful for as it sobered me somewhat. For once it might actually be a good thing and I would be allowed in. It would be a tragedy if I didn’t turn up because I had overindulged on prosecco and was denied entry by some overly strict bouncer. Blaise was unlikely to answer his phone and hear my excuse, and voila, whatever we might have had would go up in a puff of smoke.
Fortunately, the queue went sw
iftly as I was too keyed up, sadly not literally, to be patient, and soon enough we entered the vast monstrosity that was Printworks. I had been here a few times before and the heady sensation and atmosphere of the place always flooded my senses, my heart raced, and I felt my pulse kick up a notch, my breathing fast and light.
“Come on! Let’s have a dance before the drama!” Noelle exclaimed, grabbing my hand.
We headed up the steps to the main hall which, although it was relatively early, was filled with grinding and dancing bodies. Light strobes streamed through the revellers accompanied by the heavy thud of the music. Whooping, we danced up against each other, losing ourselves to the music, tilting our heads back, hands up. I felt inner peace descend on myself as we danced, utterly enthralled by the music, the atmosphere and feeling like my shackles were slowly evaporating to nothingness. This was living. This was enjoyment.
Arms snaked around my waist and I threw my hands back, stretching myself out before turning around to smile at Blaise. I breathed out, “You found me.”
He smiled back smugly. “I did.” He ground up on me closer before breathing against my lips. “Is this how a respectable engaged woman should behave?”
I laughed lightly, spinning round and grinding my butt up against his erection, smug at his evident reaction. After a week of silence, this was the affirmation I needed. He wanted me. I wanted him. What could go wrong? “Should an engaged man have his hands running all over someone who’s not his fiancée?”
He chuckled, his hands moving south, stroking my thighs, playing with the hem of my dress. Desire pooled in my centre and I let out a breathy moan, trying to stay in control. He murmured sinfully into my ear. “Seems like we’re both misbehaving tonight. Some might even say I’ve come to claim what’s owed to me.”
I smiled, allowing him to spin me round to face him, tilting my head up in defiance. “Owed to you, is it?”
He gazed at me fathomlessly but lust sparked in his eyes at my defiance. This only spurred me on further. I lifted my arms up so I was further plastered against him, feeling every groove of his hard body, enjoying the sensation of his hands as he stroked my thighs and the curve of my arse before he lifted me up, letting me wrap my legs around him. He bent his head and kissed me deeply, his tongue dancing with mine. I matched his ferocity, biting his lip fiercely and he chuckled, sending sweet vibrations of desire running through my body.
Distantly, I felt Noelle’s hand tug at my arm. I reluctantly slid down his body. I had been shamelessly climbing him and smiled sheepishly at her whilst leaning against Blaise, anchored by his arms wrapped tightly, possessively around me. “As much as I enjoyed your little show, I don’t really want to be kicked out,” she huffed, rolling her shoulders back and smirking at us. “How about we go find the others? Wouldn’t want to go raising suspicion now would we?” She linked arms with me, dragging me away from Blaise, blowing him a cheeky kiss as we left. “Come on you little slut,” she teased, kissing my cheek. “Just can’t keep your hands off him, can you?”
I laughed, exhaling the last tendrils of desire as we left the pulsating dance hall and headed down the steps. “I really can’t.”
She smiled at me, shaking her head but I could see the flicker of worry. She was worried. I was fucking terrified. If only I could control my traitorous body, life might have been oh so simple.
As we ducked out into the expansive smoking area, I pulled out my phone and tapped out a message to Gemma to tell her we would meet her there. We sat down at one of the benches, lit up, and soon enough we heard Gemma screech, “Noelle!! Xanthe!” We looked at each other, smiling, and rushed over, hugging her tightly.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the troublesome trio. Of course, you are all here. What a coincidence,” Ludo commented, smirking at us. “Looking good girls.” He paused, pulling me in for a hug. I tilted my head, trying to figure out his game. “And the sweet, engaged, Xanthe looking oh so tempting,” he murmured, his breath blowing hot against my ear. “How beautiful that finger would look with my ring on it…”
Before I could muster a response to such a cryptic comment, Blaise’s cold voice cut through the group. “I would keep your hands off what doesn’t belong to you.”
“Oh, I forgot,” Ludo arched a challenging eyebrow at Blaise. “She belongs to Xander, how easy it is to forget. And all because some possessive, arrogant fucker couldn’t learn to share, now could he?”
You could cut the tension with a knife so I laughed lightly, ducking out from under Ludo’s grip. “Noelle and I have just come for a dance with our girl, Gem. No need for drama.” I took a final pull on my cigarette before stubbing it out and smiled at Gemma. She was watching this nervously from under Bastien’s arm, who was standing tensely behind her.
Thankfully, Noelle dived in. “Exactly! And we don’t want drama, so let’s just have a dance, okay?”
Everyone laughed at that and as we were heading back into the dance hall, Damien gripped my arm, forcing me to hang back with him. He was the silent one of the group; watching, assessing, barely contributing. I swallowed nervously.
“Everything okay?” I asked, assuming innocence.
He stared at me, his dark eyes unreadable, “I was going to ask you the same question." He paused, slipping a knife between us so that only I could see. My eyes widened and my pulse fluttered nervously as my gaze lifted in horror to his ruthless stare. How the fuck had he got that into the venue? He continued conversationally. “You should know that I have no problem with getting rid of inconveniences.” He paused, the meaning hanging heavy between us, and smiled like a shark would at its prey. “Question is, sweet Xanthe, are you an inconvenience?”
“No, Damien. Of course not.” I managed to garble out. I smiled at him. “It’s obviously not a great situation, but I’ll survive.”
That seemed to appease him. He sheathed his knife, took my hand wordlessly and led me to the others. Gemma and Noelle looked at me questioningly. I shook my head and put my arms around them as we danced. I just needed to be with them and enjoy tonight. A few drinks later, we got to the magical part of the evening where time was just a concept and all we were focused on was enjoying the moment with each other. Occasionally, Bastien would steal Gemma away but we were still together, still loving life and pretending that everything was simple. That it wasn’t fucked up. That I was okay with the distance that Blaise had put between us since we met in Paris and the forbidden attraction created by our respective engagements.
It was only when I was standing at the bar by myself that Blaise approached me. Nervously, I looked around but everyone else was in the dancehall. I closed my eyes and thanked whoever was out there that the party had thrown them off us. His arm snaked around my shoulders and I instinctively nestled into him, allowing him to easily guide us to the exit.
Once we had left the venue, I gazed at him questioningly, wondering what his plan was, desperate to know if we still had a chance. He gazed at me impenetrably and said simply, “Now I’ve got you all to myself. It’s reckless but I have questions.” I swallowed, looking at him. “Many questions.”
Adoring Blaise had been replaced by killer Blaise. Although my survival instincts were screaming at me to run as fast as I could, I couldn’t tear my eyes off him as we remained transfixed by each other, spellbound by this mad attraction. He managed to break away, bending to kiss me softly, intensely, and I gasped from need, moulding myself against his body. Much to my distress, he pulled away, chuckling softly, and he pulled out his phone to order a taxi. He pocketed it and pulled me flush against his body in an embrace, resting his head on mine. I savoured the intimate closeness but I was all too aware I was being granted a brief reprieve before the eventual questioning would begin. Panic clawed at my throat as the Uber pulled up to the kerb and I got in nervously, my arms wrapped around my body, with Blaise sliding into the seat next to me.
While I sat nervously in the Uber with him, my mind buzzed with questions and my core throbbed with need as I d
esperately tried to appear unaffected. Eventually, we pulled up at his loft and he led me wordlessly into his room, flicking a low light on by the bed, flooding the opulent space with illumination. I hadn’t seen the details of it last time but now I could appreciate the faded grandeur, the dark four-poster bed in the middle, the walls covered in a silken navy covering, the floorboards rough and bare beneath my feet. It was so Blaise, I noted, but now was not the time to admire the furnishings. I had willingly walked into the devil’s lair and I had a feeling that I wouldn’t leave unscathed.
He stalked towards me, pushing me against the wall, robbing me of escape. Furious desire had dilated his pupils and I tried not to tremble. He captured my left hand in his and gazed at the ring. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t taken it off. Maybe I had wanted to provoke him.
“Now, now, now, Xanthe. Care to explain to me what the fuck you mean by this?” he snarled, twisting my hand painfully. “What the fuck you mean by apparently moving to New York? Are you trying to run away from this? From us?”
His assertiveness only stoked my need for him further but I pulled myself together, determined to explain myself when he didn’t have the excuse of ignoring my messages. “I tried to fucking explain,” I snapped back, tilting my chin at him. Blaise groaned at that. I smiled in satisfaction, as I used the opportunity to slip from his grip, dancing away and spinning on my heel to face him. I moved closer, pushing him against the wall and continued. “It was either that or they were going to send me to rehab. With guards. Locks. Essentially, prison. For some messed up reason I believed that you could still help me.” I paused, breathing heavily, my chest rising against the confines of the gold bodice of my dress. “I believed that you were still invested in helping us. In thinking we had a future. Now it appears that not only am I going to be married, I am going to live across the Atlantic. How the fuck do you plan on rescuing me then?”
Little Doll: Queens of Chaos 1 Page 27
