by Geneva Lee
You have no claim over him, I reasoned. But didn’t I? Hadn’t he insisted—no, demanded—exclusivity? Apparently he didn’t hold himself to the same expectations. I shouldn’t be surprised, but still, I was, and more than that, I was hurt. I’d spent all day dreaming about being with him, but now I felt hollow, gutted by my foolishness.
“Miss.” A porter came up to me and hesitated. “May I help you?”
I’d almost forgotten that I was standing in the lobby of a five-star hotel. I started to shake my head, but then I made a decision, sliding my phone off. “The Presidential Suite.”
“You must be here to see Mr. X,” he said. “This way, please.”
The ex part certainly seemed fitting at the moment. I wanted to kick myself. He spent so much time here that he went by an alias. How had I gotten myself into this mess?
The lift ride to the top floor was excruciatingly slow despite the private car reserved for guests of the suite. The photo had been taken last night at a private function. I wasn’t angry at him for not taking me, not when we were trying to keep our relationship quiet, but I was pissed that he held me to different standards than himself. If he thought I was going to sit around and wait for his calls while he screwed around with half of London’s female population, he had another thing coming.
But what really scared me was that he clearly knew this girl. It was obvious from the embrace and from the story attached, not to mention his reaction to her presence on the day we met. The gossip site pointed out that the two were old friends but then speculated that something more was going on. Maybe he’d changed his mind about seeing me. He’d only been back in London a short while after all. He’d kissed me once to avoid her. Was he screwing me now to get back at her?
It clawed at me not to know. It wasn’t healthy to be this attached already. I knew that, but I also couldn’t help it. My attraction to Alexander was inexplicable. While most women would have seen his godlike money and title and sexiness, what was underneath was even sexier. Underneath all the control and power, there was a soul so human and fragile that I’d been lucky to glimpse it only once or twice. But he’d shown himself to me. I was sure of that much. I had thought that meant something. Now I was no longer sure.
Maybe it was all a game with him. He’d warned me he was dangerous. He told me that he would hurt me.
Mission accomplished.
My stomach twisted and I felt a too familiar rawness creeping up my throat, the tears swelling there as I tried to hold them back. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten to me. Maybe he got off on that, too.
I was barely holding it together when the elevator stopped at our floor. His floor, I corrected myself.
Get it together, Clara. I focused on channeling my hurt into anger and stepped through the sliding doors with my fists clenched.
Alexander was on me before I could react. He lifted me up, hands cupping my ass as his lips crushed into me. I couldn’t think. I was intoxicated by him, my body betraying me, anger melting into desire as he slid a hand up to grip my neck. He pressed me against the wall and my legs wrapped more tightly around his waist. I didn’t want this moment to end, although I knew it had to.
One last kiss.
I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, and they spilled down. I tasted my sadness on his lips and he gasped, pulling back to stare at me in confusion.
“Clara.” He caught my chin in his hands and tilted my tear-stained eyes to meet his. “What’s wrong?”
I turned my head from his and pushed against his chest until he set me on my feet.
“What’s going on?” he asked in a low voice.
“This, Mr. X!” I held up my phone, so he could see the TMI article.
“I’m not sure I understand what’s happening here.”
“What’s happening is that you’re an asshole!” The words exploded from my mouth.
Alexander ran a hand through his dark hair and walked over to the bar. “Drink?”
I shook my head. It was intoxicating enough to be around him, I didn’t need to further jeopardize my good sense.
“So TMI is reporting that I was seen with Pepper last night?”
Hearing him say her name was like a punch in the gut. It confirmed all my greatest fears. He did know her, and he wasn’t even going to lie about it. I supposed that should have made me feel better, but it made me feel worse. As though I should have known this was going to happen.
“Weren’t you the one that said tabloids report rumors as facts?” he asked. “Because I rather appreciated the truth of that statement. Sit down, Clara.”
I folded my arms over my chest and stared him down. So he was going to use my own words against me. Fine. He could play it that way, but I didn’t have to obey him. “I’d prefer to stand.”
“Suit yourself.” Alexander dropped into a leather armchair and sipped his drink thoughtfully.
“So you know her?”
“Of course, I know her. I’ve known Pepper for years.”
“You aren’t making me feel any better.”
“Are you jealous?” A slow smile carved onto his lips.
I refused to meet his eyes. Yes, I was jealous, and I didn’t like it one bit. “Who is she?”
“A friend of my sister’s.” Alexander’s voice caught on the final word of this statement, and he took a long swig of his drink.
“And that’s it? Wasn’t she the girl at the club?” Suddenly all my feelings felt confused. In a very real way this girl had brought us together, but I needed to understand why, especially if she was actually a part of his life.
“She was,” he confirmed. “You’re wondering if I’m using you to get to her.”
How did he do that? How did he know what I was thinking even though we’d known each other such a short time?
“We’re connected, Clara. Can’t you feel it? At first, I thought it was just sexual.” Alexander set down his glass and stood to come over to me. “The way your body responds to mine. How it feels when I’m inside you. But it’s more than that. I know you feel it.”
I did and that was what scared me. Alexander had made it clear there were no long-term options for us, and this feeling–this connection—was far from casual. “Why even bring it up? You don’t do commitment, remember?”
“I remember.” Alexander’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I don’t understand it either. I don’t even know why I’m explaining myself to you—”
“Because you want exclusivity, remember? You demanded it from me! But apparently not from yourself!”
“Do you think I fucked her?” he asked, taking a step closer to me. His proximity raised goose bumps all over my body, and I had to consciously keep myself from closing the small gap between us. I hated myself in that moment. I hated him for making me want him so badly.
“If it walks like a fuck and talks like a fuck,” I said. This was definitely a time to use the real term.
“I don’t lie, Clara,” Alexander said in a quiet voice. “And if you accuse me of doing so, I will take you over my knee.”
I gasped, backing a step away from him. He’d threatened to before, but I saw now that he meant it—and not playfully.
“You’d like that,” he continued, prowling toward me. “I see it in your eyes—the hunger.”
I held up a hand, shaking my head, forcing my rational side to prevail over my hormones.
Alexander’s hand shot out and grabbed mine, bringing it to his lips. “I’ll never lay a finger on you without your permission, but the sooner you accept the truth, Clara, the better.”
“What truth?” I choked out the words, willing myself to ignore the blaze of longing igniting in me.
“You want to submit to me. You want me to tell you what to do with that sweet little mouth. The way your body responds to mine. It wants to be controlled. Dominated. You want to be dominated. You’re so incredibly strong, Clara.” Alexander trailed a finger across my belly and my core clenched. “But you need to lose
control. You want to.”
I shook my head, but his words had struck a cord. I wasn’t telling him no. I was telling myself no. “No, I don’t.”
“You’ll be safe with me.” Alexander caught my shirt in his hands and pulled me roughly to him until our bodies pressed close together. “I’ll never take you further than you can handle, but I will take you to the edge. I will give you more pleasure than you ever thought possible.”
I swallowed, trying to comprehend these promises and the strange effect they had on me. My rational side began painting a picture. I’d had a bad relationship before and it was clear this one was headed in the same direction. “I’m not like that.”
“I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you. Release. My only thought is of your pleasure. When you give yourself to me, I take that responsibility seriously, Clara.”
I turned away from the intense gaze of his eyes, trying to clear my head. “What are we talking about? Ropes and safe words?”
“Small steps, Clara, but yes. A safe word is a necessity. For now I want you to trust me. I want you to trust that I will give you pleasure.”
“And you’ll punish me too?” I demanded. “Threaten to spank me if I misbehave?”
“Only when you don’t trust me,” he said coolly even though fire sparked in his eyes. “Without trust, you can’t give me control, Clara, and then we can’t have what we both need.”
“You mean what you want!” I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation.
“Need,” he said in a low voice that was anything but soft. “What you need.”
“I…don’t…” I choked on the words, too astonished to rebuke him.
“Yes, you do.” He said the words gently, as though he was explaining to a child why she needed to eat her vegetables. “Let me show you.”
I balked at him, but my body reacted to his words with a shiver of dangerous arousal. Shaking my head, I forced myself to reject the suggestion that I wanted this. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Alexander took a step back and stared at me. “Someone tried to break you before.”
I bit my lip, tears stinging my eyes. And no one would again.
“I’m not him, Clara. That’s not what I want to do to you.”
“You warned me,” I cried. “You told me you would hurt me!”
He’d shown me all the warning signs and I’d still come running to him. To his bed. Suddenly it became clear that it wasn’t Alexander who was sending mixed signals.
“I did,” he said in a soft voice. He turned away from me.
“I should go.” There was nothing for me here. That much was clear.
“You probably should,” he said, “but I wish you wouldn’t. Go to bed with me one more time. Let me show you. Let me give you pleasure.”
I thought of how I’d felt when I saw that article earlier today, and I heard my mother’s warning echo in my head. I was too confused. Alexander had me all mixed up, and spending more time with him—going to bed with him—was only going to make that confusion worse. I’d given him the wrong idea about me, about what I wanted. I hadn’t walked into a trap. I’d led the predator to my door with breadcrumb promises spilled from my lips. “I can’t.”
Alexander stiffened, but he didn’t turn to look at me, instead he bobbed his head curtly, but as I tuned to leave, he said. “You won’t.”
There was a note of accusation in his voice. He could see right through me. He hadn’t been lying about that connection. Why then couldn’t he see that the intensity of our relationship was terrifying? But he knew that. He also knew that I found it exhilarating. He’d counted on that being enough and it almost had been, but I’d seen the darkness in his eyes and it scared me.
It scared me almost as much as it aroused me. That’s why I left.
Chapter Twelve
The next few days passed in a blur, and I found myself, despite my best intentions, checking the email alert that Belle had set up for me. It didn’t matter though. Alexander was flying low under the radar. The only contact he seemed to be making with the outside world was the texts he sent to my mobile. He was making it hard to stick to my decision to end our brief relationship before it got out of control. I took to repeatedly reminding myself it was better to end things now to get through the day. We barely knew each other after all, but the fact that Alexander hadn’t given up suggested maybe I wasn’t crazy for having a hard time calling it quits.
There was still so much I wished I knew about him; however, I knew my fascination with him wasn’t healthy. Alexander came with baggage that I couldn’t carry. The fame. The darkness. The control issues. It was too much, too fast. He consumed me when he was near me and occupied my mind when he wasn’t. Ending it was the only option.
So why couldn’t I let him go?
But this morning I had bigger things on my mind. At least, I was trying to keep the fact that I was starting my new job at Peters & Clarkwell my top priority. In actuality, the fact was that I was failing miserably.
“You should block him,” Belle suggested as she poured me a cup of coffee.
“He has access to SIS,” I reminded her. “I’m not sure it will matter if I block him.” I didn’t add that I’d already tried and couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“I don’t like seeing you this way. Are you sure this girl is really something to get so miffed over?”
Belle’s heart was in the right place, because I hadn’t been able to tell her the truth. That the real reason that I’d walked away from Alexander had nothing to do with the tabloid photos of him with Pepper Lockwood. How could I explain to her that he scared me? She knew I’d attracted the wrong men in the past. She would completely understand my compulsion to run if she knew what he wanted, and maybe that’s why I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Belle would never look at Alexander the same way again. What I couldn’t figure it out is why I cared so much. He wanted to dominate me. He claimed only in the bedroom. He claimed it would be safe. But was that a risk I was capable of taking?
“I don’t know,” I said, not able to lie to her. At least, not entirely. “Maybe I’m just hurt, but I think it’s better if we get some distance.”
As if on cue, my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I snatched it up before she could see what it said. Alexander’s texts ranged from reasonable to wildly sexual, although I expected the overly dirty ones came from a night spent drinking too much. He’d managed to keep them respectful for the most part, which made it even harder not to respond.
“Whatever he did, he isn’t trying to hide that he’s thinking about you.” Belle flipped her hair over her shoulder and shot me a meaningful look.
“He’s thinking about sex, like most guys,” I corrected her.
“Most guys don’t bother thinking at all, let alone texting you repeatedly.”
I turned my attention to my coffee, hoping it would steady the agitated beat of my nerves. “I can’t worry about this. I start work today.”
“And you look fabulous,” Belle said, switching topics on my cue. At least, I could count on her to know when to drop something.
I looked fabulous because Belle had organized my new wardrobe for me and helped me pick out my first outfit. She’d abandoned two days of catering appointments to focus on distracting me, and I was grateful. As it turns out, I wasn’t hopeless in the fashion department because this morning she only had to correct my choice of shoes. I still wasn’t sold on wearing three-inch Jimmy Choos to work, but who was I to argue with Belle? I’d knotted my hair into a loose bun at the back of my neck, not wanting to look too young or too frigid, and put on just enough makeup to give my pale skin some color.
“Do you think this dress is okay?” I smoothed down the simple linen shift as I stood, wondering for the tenth time if I should wear a jacket. Summer was fast approaching and I expected the walk to be warm. The last thing I wanted was to show up sweaty on my first day, but then again, I wasn’t convinced a sleeveless dress was work appropriate.<
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“Stop obsessing.” Belle shook her head. “You look great and you do not need a jacket, before you even ask. They’re damn lucky to have you. You don’t need that job, Clara.”
“That doesn’t mean I can do whatever I want,” I argued.
“No, but it does mean you don’t have to worry about what they think of you—or at least what they think of your clothes. But even so, you look like a sophisticated career woman, and they’re going to die over your accent.”
I hung my head dramatically. “I don’t have an accent.”
“You’re an American in London, honey.”
“I’m not American!”
“If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck,” she said with a wink.
All the enthusiasm drained from my body, and I lurched forward to clutch the countertop. Was this how it was always going to be? Little things reminding me of Alexander. Little things driving me crazy. All the what-if’s and might-have-beens chipping away my sanity.
“What is it?” Belle cried, setting her mug down so quickly that its contents splashed over the rim. She caught my arm and peered at me with concern.
I could only shake my head, forcing a small laugh to lighten the mood. “It’s nothing.”
“You were thinking about him, weren’t you?” There was no accusation in the question. It was soft and welcoming, practically begging for me to confide in her. “I know there’s more going on here, Clara. Bloody hell, if I’d known he was going to have this effect on you, I would never have encouraged you to go out with him.”
“Why would you think he has an effect on me? I barely know him.” But my words were hollow. There were a lot of things I didn’t know about Alexander. The trouble was both that I wanted to know them and that I had glimpsed enough to feel bound to him. In fact, I knew it wasn’t just a feeling. I was bound to him, but I couldn’t explain that to Belle. I could barely explain it to myself.
