Feeling White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Belle, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I don’t think Conner will be very happy about it when he finds out, and you know he will,” I reply quietly, hoping to put her off the idea, knowing it’s bloody pointless but at least trying. Her face flies to mine with anger spilling out of it.

  “When will you get it, Beth? Stop thinking about them all the time. This is about us. They’re all fucking arseholes. I will not risk our business for any man, regardless of how I feel. You need to wise up and quick. I love you but you cannot let them rule your emotions anymore. It’s pathetic,” she spits at me. “Oh, fuck it, now I’m really sodding mad.”

  “Belle, calm down, honey. I didn’t mean you shouldn’t be irritated. I just don’t want you to lose him,” I say as I reach over and rub her arm.

  “Well, the dick shouldn’t have behaved like a bloody Neanderthal, should he? What a prat.”

  There is quiet for a while as I watch her formulate a plan in her own mind. “Okay, so I need my little black book. Who’s good for a date?”

  “Belle, can’t you find another way around this?” I ask hesitantly.

  “No, and frankly I don’t want another option. I told him not to screw this up and that’s exactly what he’s doing. It’ll do him good to worry a bit,” she says as she yanks her bag from the floor and starts digging around in it. “Did you call Pascal?”

  “Yes, next Friday,” I reply as I sip my tea, watching her thumbing through her infamous book.

  “Good for you,” she says as she smiles wickedly. “Now there’s a name I haven’t seen for a while. He’ll do nicely. Blythe MacDowell, what do you think?” I roll my eyes at her and laugh. He’s a match made in heaven, I’ll give her that.

  “I haven’t seen Blythe for a year or so. Is he still here or is he laird of his Scottish castle now?”

  “I don’t know, but he’ll come back for me. We had a lot of fun together.”

  My brain rapidly displays images of the burly Scotsman and his effervescent charm. He’s probably the funniest man I’ve ever met and his charisma is something to behold. You can’t help but have fun with him. Of course it helps that his six foot rugged good looks keep you constantly guessing what’s under his kilt, whether he’s wearing it or not.

  “Well, I think he’ll get right up Conner’s nose and the rest of the social network will be alerted in minutes of his return. I’ll call him now. Perfect.”

  “Belle, just for once will you think less unemotionally about this? Conner loves you. Please don’t ruin things.” Her eyes narrow as she closes the book and chucks her phone on the table.

  “Okay, I’ll wait till the morning. I’m still calling though.”

  Oh god, could something just be easy and simple for a change? Before these men came into our lives, everything was calm. Will it ever be that uncomplicated again? Something makes me doubt it.

  Chapter 3

  Alexander

  T he boardroom was full of waiting employees, yet he simply couldn’t drag up enough energy to bother with the meeting that he’d called at short notice. He’d forced every head of department to drop everything to get to this meeting so that he could get control of his business again, but that had been a few days ago and now he just felt like going home to the solitude of his study and reading a book or something. He was like that a lot lately - all over the fucking place.

  After flying in from LA on Sunday, he’d given himself some time to process the last week and then called Louisa and told her that he was back on board and needed a whole lot of things put into place.

  The phone call from Mark Jacobs on Monday had reminded him that he did indeed have a hell of a lot to lose and that he needed to get on with saving it. Regardless of his own stupidity regarding Elizabeth, she was not his only concern at the moment and until he felt secure within himself and his accumulated wealth, he was of no bloody use to her anyway. She more than likely wasn’t going to accept him back anyway. Why the hell would she? He’d just proven how little he deserved her.

  He’d spent the last week manoeuvring his way around varying company profiles, trying to get all his cards in place for the oncoming storm. Tyler Rathbone was, for now, his friend and new business associate, and that meant he could stop relying on Henry’s funding and find a way to get this deal completed behind closed doors. If he could just keep his shit together and force the Chinese to comply, he’d be home and dry.

  The meeting with Rathbone had been brought forward a few days because of Jacobs’ unusually boring lack of fucking information regarding Henry’s misgivings, which had incensed him to the point of sorting his own bloody way out of the issue. The only useful piece of information he’d managed to find was a snippet about a younger cousin that had apparently gone off the rails years before. The family had hushed up the whole thing, but it seemed drugs and a bad temper had been the delinquent’s downfall. Mark had promised to look into the matter further and get back to him as soon as he knew anything else. His results on Evelyn Peters hadn’t been much more interesting either. For a damned good investigator, Mark Jacobs had done a thorough but completely unproductive job, but at least he was continuing his search for more about the woman, which was reassuring.

  Why he was trying to prove she was related to him was beyond him. He knew she was family of some description because he could feel it every time he looked at her picture. The thought was distracting, though, and until he had some firm evidence, he just couldn’t bring himself to think it possible or even begin to deal with the shit that was swirling around his own head about it. Thankfully, Conner had given him the emergency home address details of her mother. When he had the balls or time to deal with it, he probably would but until then, he’d let Jacobs keep digging around.

  After he’d argued with Conner about going to LA and meeting Rathbone, Alex had eventually called his plane and gone to the airport anyway. It seemed it was the worst place in the world for Conner to be seen with the bruising on his face because of the parasitic tabloids. He had felt pretty guilty about that given the circumstances, but it couldn’t be helped at the time, and regardless of his feelings for his saviour, his territory was in danger. He was going to sort it out.

  He smiled at the thought of his friend grumbling his way up the jet’s steps at the last minute and muttering about the fact that he was a complete dickhead and that he didn’t deserve his loyalty in the slightest. Given the beating he’d handed to Conner, he was lucky the guy was even talking to him so he had to agree. At the time it had prompted him to consider visiting a shrink of some sort. Given the situation with Elizabeth and his now obvious paranoia around her, he knew he needed to do something. The blackout with Conner had worried him to the point that he believed it was possible that he might hurt her at some point if he lost it again. He couldn’t keep on pretending that he could deal with all this emotion without talking to someone about it, so yesterday he’d done just that.

  Strangely, he’d found it quite a cathartic experience. Dr. Keith Schroder had been an interesting man and far cleverer than Alex believed possible of a psychiatrist. He could only remember vague images of other shrinks he’d had to deal with when he was younger. They weren’t very positive memories. He’d found them to be quite naïve in their analysis of his apparent condition at the time. He didn’t have a condition; even he knew that. He was just fucking mad and a bit of lunatic when it came to taming his temper. Schroder had been intelligent, resourceful and quite inventive. He had also been the most unemotional man that he’d ever met. Not once had his face changed its shape or positioning. He’d been calm and somewhat pragmatic the entire time. No matter how much Alex had tried to divert attention with his normal ambiguous manner, Schroder had keep his inquisition gentle but forceful. Damn, the man would make a hell of a poker player. He liked him immensely, and Elizabeth would, too, if she’d ever agree to go with him.

  What he was going to do about her was still a quandary. He’d picked up the phone so many times that he’d lost count, and ev
ery time, he’d put it down again with a disappointing thud against whatever surface it landed on. He just couldn’t find the right words to tell her he was sorry and that he wanted her back. She’d be a fool to take him back anyway. He didn’t deserve her, and how he was supposed to convince her when he couldn’t even convince himself was becoming a problem he was unable to solve.

  “Love.” He mumbled the word out loud to himself as he tapped his foot on the floor and stared at his screen. What he was looking at he couldn’t even remember. She was continuing to consume most of his thoughts. She had done since the moment the wheels had touched down in London. He’d somehow found the ability to push her aside for a while when he was in New York and LA so he could concentrate on other matters, but the moment he knew he could touch her again, he’d become almost desperate for her. The need to feel her against his skin again and disappear into that calm place he’d adored so much was almost unbearable in its relentless attack. He’d never had that before, and he was damned if he’d lose it now.

  He looked up at the window and felt his whole body relax into the vision of her, her red hair falling over her shoulders and those big, beautiful brown eyes pulling him towards her. “Perfect,” he sighed out as he felt the soft smile spread across his face.

  The phone suddenly ringing on his desk broke the moment abruptly and he sneered at it as he pressed the button sharply.

  “Louisa,” he snapped, trying to remain calm with the woman.

  “Sir, do you want me to cancel this meeting or are you coming in?” she asked, professional as ever and completely on his side as usual. He sighed and picked up his phone from the table.

  “No, I’m coming in. Just give me a minute,” he replied.

  “Yes of course, Sir,” she said as he put the phone down.

  Shrugging into his suit jacket, he walked over to the door and pocketed his phone. Just as he reached for the handle, he rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. Very little sleep over the last week was beginning to take its toll, and the constant pain of missing her was muddling his brain to a fucking disturbing point of distraction.

  “Go away, Elizabeth. I can’t do this with you in there,” he muttered to himself. She softened him and chiselled off his edges, and right now he needed those corners sharp, rough and angry. He drew in a long breath and headed out of the door. This wasn’t going to be pleasant for any of them but he had a feeling he’d feel a lot better when he left this meeting. After all, barking orders around and making people feel like shit was one of the more effective versions of himself, so that’s what he was about to do.

  As he approached the boardroom, he smiled to himself, remembering her standing there in that little business suit, all gorgeous and perky with her hair neatly pinned. God, how he longed to pull that hair again, to sink himself inside her and forget everything else. What day was it? Friday. Fuck it, tonight he was going round there. If she said no then he’d have to find another way in, but he had to give it a go. This bloody ridiculous being nervous about it shit was just not sitting comfortably with him at all. After this, he’d be more ready to face her and hopefully more ready to hold his head up and take whatever she threw at him.

  Muttering and grumbling greeted him as he rounded the corner and took up position at the top of the table. The entire team turned toward him and plastered on their best happy faces. Well, they weren’t going to be fucking happy in a minute. Picking up a pile of filled document folders that had been placed in front of him, he threw them down the table and sat down heavily as he unbuttoned his jacket. He watched with his fingers steepled under his chin for a few minutes as the usual grabbing and polite shuffling took place, carefully scanning the faces and trying to glean important clues about demeanour and posture. At the moment he didn’t trust anyone apart from Conner. Everyone in this room was a potential threat.

  “Sam, Nicola, don’t bother picking one of those up. You’re both fired. I’d like you out of my building within half an hour. Louisa will accompany you immediately,” he said instantly as he noticed them glance at each other far too suspiciously for his liking. Louisa raised herself from her seat beside him with a completely impassive face and went to stand at the doorway waiting for them. She had no idea what was happening but she did her job immaculately and loyally. Nicola did the correct thing and made for the door. Sam, however, decided to have a temper tantrum. His head of negotiating apparently thought it appropriate to negotiate. Idiot.

  “Mr. White, you can’t do that. I have a contract and I haven’t done anything incorrect or detrimental to the business. It’s in my contract.” He looked around the table wildly and found Westfield. “Tate, tell him. He can’t just bloody fire me,” he continued as he flailed his arms around amusingly. Westfield quite rightly just stared at him with that lawyer’s face that Alex had always admired.

  “Sam, would you like me to list your failings in front of this table? I am more than happy to.” Alex grinned as he leant back into his chair, crossed his legs and let the atmosphere do the rest of the talking for him. He could feel the bastard rising back up in himself and revelled in it - that feeling of cold, disciplined defiance coursing through his veins like a slow burning fire that had no intention of being dampened. The man started shifting uncomfortably and looking nervous. Alex chuckled. “Good, now go. Please do try and sue me if you’d like. We all know how Tate enjoys a good fight.”

  His head of negotiating obviously thought better of his own argument and lowered his head as he made his way to the door to join the others. Tate smirked at Alex from the other side of the table. The gesture was too intimate and left him still questioning Tate’s loyalty. Was he friend or foe? He still didn’t know and that made him damned uncomfortable in this room. There was too much information available in here or anywhere in this building, frankly.

  “Right, now that’s over can anyone tell me why I lost profit in two departments this month? I am a little fucking irritated and getting ready to think about a few more of you.” Silence greeted him as they all looked over at him with either shock or fear imprinted across their faces. “No? Okay, we’ll go one by one then, shall we? Karen, open up to page fourteen and tell me why the hell three hundred grand has been wasted on fucking policy that you should have be able to do in your sleep.” She scampered around to the page and then looked back at him with a nervous expression.

  Christ, this was going to be a long meeting.

  ~

  What time was it? Jesus! Eight-thirty? Was it too late to go to hers now? It would be at least nine before he got there, probably later given Friday night traffic. He pulled his black wool coat on and pressed the button for the lift. The afternoon had dragged but there was no denying its affect on him. He felt invigorated, alive. It was interesting that scaring the shit out of people always put him a good mood. Perhaps he should talk to Keith about that.

  “One,” he said quietly as the doors closed and he blew out a long breath steadily.

  The doors opened again and he strode across the lobby, nodding at his receptionist as he reached the doors. He didn’t even know her name. When the hell had she arrived in the business?

  Andrews waited patiently for him at the car with his normal bored expression.

  “Sir,” he said as he closed the door and went around to start the engine. “Where to?”

  “Elizabeth’s please,” he said as he reached for the Cognac, trying to stop the tapping foot thing that seemed to have become a permanent fixture over the last few weeks. Neck rubbing was enough of a tell so this foot thing was damned infuriating.

  “Yes, Sir,” Andrews replied quietly.

  He took a steadying sip and watched the London nightlife drift by the window. Dropping his head back against the seat, he closed his eyes and began to run through his carefully prepared speech - the one he hoped would be enough for her. He would tell her what a fool he’d been and how much he loved her, that he would give anything for her to give him another chance, to prove he was actually worthy of her lov
e. It suddenly occurred to him that she might tell him that it wasn’t enough and that he would have to prove it, or that she simply wasn’t interested in his idea of love, and the nervous ball that he’d been trying to dispel came raging back. Damn, a few lines of coke would help sort all this shit out. He bit back the need and wrinkled his nose up at himself in disgust.

  “What the fuck am I doing?” he mumbled to himself as he reached for another drink.

  “I think you’re going after what you want, as you’ve done hundreds of times before,” Andrews said from the front. Smiling to himself, he realised he hadn’t reinstated the privacy glass and chuckled as he opened his eyes.

  “Thank you for your insight, Andrews, but I’m not sure it helps,” he replied as he watched Andrews’ brows rise in the mirror.

  “It should do. Have you ever been turned down before?” he said with a snort of humour. Alex smirked and downed his drink.

  “I think this is a little different, don’t you?” he said sarcastically as he looked back out of the window.

  “Perhaps, but it definitely will be if you turn yourself into someone else for her. I doubt she’ll thank you for it,” he said calmly as he raised the screen back up and effectively gave Alex his own space again.

  He considered that statement carefully. He hadn’t thought about it like that. For whatever reason, she had fallen in love with him for exactly who he was. He hadn’t hidden or softened for her particularly. Well, maybe he had a little but only because he’d wanted to. Yes, she’d probably pulled the fun in him out to play again but she’d loved each part of him with equal measure, it seemed, accepted his flaws and differences. She’d in no way seen his darkened depths in their entirety, but there hadn’t been enough time for that and he wasn’t entirely convinced that he would ever need that of her anyway. Andrews was right, though. He’d spent all this time telling himself to beg for her and actually, she’d fallen for a man who would never do anything of the sort. Would she prefer that man to come to her door and demanded her attention again?