Feeling White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “You’ve got a package for Elizabeth Scott?” I say excitedly. He ducks his head down and passes me a small white envelope. I thank him and shoot back to the lift as I open it. A key falls out and I stare at it in puzzlement and then slide out the card as the lift doors open.

  So you’ll always have somewhere safe to run to.

  What’s mine is yours. Your alarm code is CHESS.

  Ax

  Oh Christ, is this his house key? Wow! Well that’s unexpected. I don’t even know what to think about that. It’s not an overly priced gift; that’s a good thing. His reference to safety is definitely about last Monday night and that’s really very sweet. What’s mine is yours? That’s… I don’t know what that means at all. I’m confused. I suppose when you’re in love with someone that’s what you do, give them your key, but the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. In fact, Alex hasn’t even been to my apartment for more than a few minutes. I open the door and go immediately to the safety of my chair.

  “Oh good you’re back. So did Pascal ask me to call him?” Teresa asks as she tops up her wine.

  “Yes,” I reply quietly while I study the card in front of me. Am I ready for this with him? I love him and he says he loves me. That’s good. Why am I thinking about this? It’s just a key, but it’s not for him, is it? This is probably the first time he’s ever been so open with anyone, the first time he’s really let someone in and tried to give them everything he has. I’m instantly overwhelmed as I begin to realise the importance of his love for me, of his commitment to me and of my understanding of him. He would have killed that man, not because he couldn’t control himself but because it was me. It suddenly strikes me that if it had been another woman, he might well have ignored it. Every piece of him he reveals is like another layer of skin being peeled back to uncover another uncomfortable truth that he hates to admit to me. He’s slowly lowering every barrier he ever put in place and now he’s removing the one barrier that could keep me away from him: his home. He’s giving me the key to his solace. A tear hits the card and I realise I’m crying happily, with love for a man I thought would never open up everything for me.

  “Well, where the fuck is the fucking wine? What a bunch of knobs. Jesus, a party for four hundred in two days? What sodding planet do some people live on?” My head shoots up as I wipe at my tears and I see an irritated Belle launch herself at her wine already poured by Teresa. “ And what the hell is wrong with you, Snotbag? Mr. Good Legs fucked up again?”

  “To be honest, I was about to ask the same thing,” Teresa says from my side as she snatches the card from my hand and scans it with a smile. “Well, well, well, moving in, are we?” she says as she passes it to Belle.

  “I’m not sure that’s the point of the key,” I reply with a chuckle as I lay it on the table in front of me and pick up my drink. “So what about the Bauers? A no-go then?”

  “No, definitely not. I told them we could do it in February at a push, but in our kitchen, four hundred people in two days, with no prep time? Not a hope. We need a bigger kitchen. It’s as simple as that. And with Mum, well, you know... God, I hate saying no to good money.”

  We would normally use Mum and Dad for this sort of thing but after my phone call with him on Tuesday afternoon, it isn’t even a consideration. She’d begun testing again, not that either of us needed clarification on the matter because it was pretty obvious. He sounded devastated and to be honest, so were we. We’d all been through this before and while she’d made it out the other side of breast cancer safely, it had damn near killed her the first time. Second time, who knew? He’d sounded so upset that I very nearly got in the car and belted down the motorway, but he’d told me to stay away, that he wasn’t going to tell Mum that we knew because she’d worry too much and that wouldn’t help with her stress levels. Regardless, I was going on Friday. Belle couldn’t but as James had been a complete star and promised to do the whole of prep and serving for Soresbury Halls Christmas buffet, I had the time so I was going to use it.

  “Well, have you sorted figures for the loan yet? Let’s get our backsides to the bank. The Spotty Pig’s doing well and we could always stick that in for collateral if we have to, maybe even remortgage this place. The base rates are very good at the moment. We need this as soon as possible. What do the accounts look like?” Belle gawps at me and even Teresa flaps her mouth about. “What?”

  “Bloody hell, girl, where has Miss Business-brain come from? You normally just sign the paperwork and leave the rest to me,” Belle says as she begins taking off her clothes and walks into the bedroom. She comes back out in a pair of leggings and t-shirt.

  “I think someone else’s business brain is rubbing off on her,” Teresa says with a giggle. “You better watch your figures, Belle. You’re the one that called him - what was it? - oh yes, a pure business brain on a killing spree with hands made for butchery.” I watch her wander over to the kitchen and rifle through the take-away drawer. “I’m calling for pizza. Normal for everyone?” We both nod.

  I think about that for a moment. Is that the man I’m in love with? He seems to have changed so much since those first few visions of him. I’ll have to ask him. He’ll be highly amused at that description of himself. His control of Pascal flits through my mind. How does he do that to a man like Pascal? And why? Control, hands made for butchery, who is he deep down? And how am I managing to release a bit of him? I still have no idea. It makes me wonder whether he’s softened in his work environment, too. Funnily enough, I hope not. While it was nice to watch the people at the ball see his more emotive side, he’s clearly done very well for himself being a total shit. It suits him, and as long as I get the other, more honest version of him, I really don’t mind.

  But Belle has definitely struck a chord. I’ve been thinking more and more about the fundamentals of business since I’ve met him. Regardless of him being a callous bastard, which was never going to be my style, he does induce a more focused side of my mind to commit itself to numbers. I’m good at what I do, but I’ve always left all the business matters to Belle. She’s very good at them. I’ve never felt guilty but for some reason over the last few months, I’ve just been more interested.

  I look at the key on the table and smile. He’s changing me, just as I’m apparently changing him. First my confidence with wealthy people, then my sexual appetite and now I’m becoming a numbers lady… Well bloody hell, I like every one of those changes with a passion. I stretch across for my phone and giggle to myself as I text him back.

  - Thank you. I love you too x

  Chapter 12

  Alexander

  T he drive had given him time to think. He didn’t need it because he knew exactly what he was going to do and it didn’t take a fucking genius to work out why. That the fool had the stupidity to even think about touching her was incomprehensible, but people did strange things and god knows she was stunning. No, stunning was too plain somehow. Maybe arresting was more acceptable.

  Guy Chambers had been a trusted employee for almost three years. Alex never really cared that much for the man but he had always been on time for his shifts, he’d served his time as a bouncer in an exemplary manner and had on several occasions sorted out some difficult scuffles, but he never thought of the man as a rapist. It just confirmed his inherent distrust of people and reminded him to start looking behind the persona again. Most humans were simply out for themselves and it seemed this particular person had seen fit to try his luck with Elizabeth.

  The dick had called her one of his whores, and that they all knew what Alex liked. Did they fuck. No one in his club had ever seen a fragment of what he liked, If they did, they would never consider touching what was his but it made him wonder how many times it had happened before. Not that he gave a shit if the man had fucked every other girl he’d had before her, only that he’d been disrespected by not being asked for permission first. Well, it wouldn’t be happening again anytime soon regardless. Guy had tried that move on the wrong woman this time
- his woman, his air to breathe.

  He sneered at the thought as he pulled onto the dirt road and crossed the old wooden bridge into the quarry. Rolling his phone contacts for Mark’s number, he called as he brushed some dirt off the dash of the Range Rover. He really should have Andrews take it for a valet. He didn’t use it much but the dust was disgraceful and he didn’t appreciate having to sit in filth, regardless of the situation.

  Waiting for Mark to answer, he scanned the area and pulled to a stop under the old garage area.

  “Yep,” Mark answered breathlessly after a while.

  “What the hell took so long?” he asked tersely. Christ, he hated waiting.

  “Oh, I was having a bit of fun, sorry, mate.” He shook his head and started to climb out of the car.

  “I assume he is at least still alive?”

  “Oh yeah, I wouldn’t have finished him,” Mr. Jacobs replied with a chuckle as he removed his shirt and jacket and folded them up on the back seat along with his phone. The jeans didn’t matter. He had to be in a suit in an hour or so anyway. Rolling his neck around, he locked the door, pulled the garage door down and headed for the old iron gates that led into the pit.

  The cold air instantly hit his chest, causing a refreshing shiver as he descended the steps and focused his eyes on the dimly lit area. Two underground lamps lit the old mine shaft weakly as he made his way along the familiar roughened ground and remembered the last time he was here. Reggie Hanson had been a wealthy but idiotic small time crook, looking to gain access to the big boys by blackmailing London’s notoriously neurotic Drugs Lord, Aiden Phillips, Alex’s employer at the time and friend now. Well, friend was a little past the mark, but respected ally was probably an acceptable compromise. But needless to say, Mr. Hanson had never had the opportunity to blackmail anyone after he’d been dealt with in the pit.

  He watched his boots get dustier as he continued his descent and mentally chastised himself for not bringing shoe polish with him. Christ, he’d bet his life on the fact that Jacobs would have some. Shit, business had made him forget all those little details that had kept him from being found out before. He’d perfected the art years ago but now he was a fucking softy in comparison to the way he was when this was his life, when his every waking moment was based on who needed what from him and how much he had to inflict to get the information required or shut someone up completely.

  He shook his head and chuckled to himself as he entered the vast space deep beneath the ground and heard Mark’s laughter coming from the end of it. If there was one thing Mr. Jacobs enjoyed, it was nearly killing a man and then giving the poor bastard a chance to recover - a technique Alex had learnt to admire, albeit not necessarily use himself. His own choice of amusement had been firmly rooted in someone’s sense of fear, of what could happen before it inevitably did. It still was really. He’d spent plenty of time taunting, torturing and goading to get whatever he needed from them before he did what he was paid to do.

  Flexing out his fists and stretching his hands as he wandered across to the pair of them, he noticed that Mark had even gone to the lengths of untying the prick completely and letting him think he had a chance of getting away. Fucking idiot.

  Guy Chambers was on all fours, spitting up blood again and scrabbling about in the dust, presumably to try and find something to hit his attacker with. Alex inclined his head to the side and crouched down in front of the man as he pushed his own hands into the dirt and then rolled the chalky grit into his palms. The man was a mess of blood and bruises, just the way he fucking should be. He was only still breathing because Alex had been more concerned about getting Elizabeth to safety and away from what she’d watched him unleash. Her look of disgust had been firmly implanted at the time she’d thrown it at him and he could still feel it now, burrowing under his skin, making him feel something other than the nothing he normally felt in these situations.

  Just as he went to rise, the dick lifted his head and spat at him. He watched the blood roll down his chest and frowned. While the blood was significant, it wasn’t even nearly enough for what was about to happen. He stood up, grabbed a metal chair that had been discarded and began the process of wrapping his hands. He hadn’t intended on it but the rapist scum could be carrying any fucking disease. He noticed that Mark had not had such foresight. He probably didn’t care either. Actually, on further examination it seemed Mark hadn’t used his fists at all. A long length of lead piping had been his weapon of choice, apparently.

  “No hands this time?” he asked of Mr. Jacobs.

  “Nah, AP likes us to look a bit cleaner these days, says we need a weapon. I’ve never had much time for guns - too quick,” he replied with a shrug. Alex rolled his eyes at Mark’s weapon and got a returning grin of utter pleasure. God, he’d almost forgotten what a maniac the man was.

  “Guy, why did you think it appropriate to rape my girlfriend?” Alex asked as he tied the last of the bandage off and walked over to him. There was no response other than a spluttered cough so he kicked him in the head and watched him fall to his side with a cry of pain. A few moments later, he hauled himself up to a kneeling position, so he kicked him back over again. The fucking arsehole didn’t deserve to be anywhere other than on the floor. “Shall I ask you again? You see, I just can’t fathom why you would sentence yourself to death.”

  “Fuck you!” Guy yelled as he spat out some more blood and had the audacity to look him in the eyes. He would have laughed if the little shit hadn’t have actually tried it with Elizabeth. Of all the whores the man could have chosen, possibly did, she was not one of them and never would be.

  “Well, eloquent as that is, it still isn’t an answer. I just want to know if you thought I was going soft or something. You know who I am. You were Aiden’s before you came to me.”

  The dick made some gurgling noise that sounded something like a word but he couldn’t hear so he aimed a punch at his nose. His cartilage crunched gloriously beneath his fist so he hit him twice more for good measure and then circled him while looking for signs of retaliation. There wasn’t any. Unfortunately for Alex, this wasn’t what he was after at all. The man was so exhausted and beaten up that he didn’t have a hope of fighting back or talking very well apparently. “Any answers yet?”

  “Why not?” the man mumbled almost incoherently. “Just another fucking whore.” Alex was so shocked at the admission that he took a step back.

  “Did he just say why not?” he said to Mark in utter amazement. Mark shrugged and swung his pipe about again. “Did you just suggest that you tried to rape her because you hadn’t got anything better to do?” he asked as he stamped on the man’s knee, relishing in the crack that resonated in the space around them. The awkward angle of the joint and the cries of pain made it obvious that it was broken so he crouched and tore at the joint more until it felt completely loose in his hands. More screams of pain and hand scrabbling later, his own irritation began to set in. He couldn’t get the old feeling back. He wasn’t enjoying the torture as he once had, and he felt slightly disgusted by his behaviour for some fucking irrational reason so he stood up.

  Looking at Mark, he wondered if he should make this go on longer than it needed to just to ensure that Mr. Jacobs knew he was still capable of it. He narrowed his eyes at the man rolling around in the dirt. He probably should but the fact was he didn’t have the enthusiasm for the fun of it anymore. He loved her and just wanted the man to pay for his idiotic behaviour. He didn’t care if the idiot learnt a lesson or not because he wouldn’t be around to change the way he acted, and therefore his opinion didn’t matter in the slightest.

  He watched Guy give up on the floor beneath him and pondered his next move. The man didn’t deserve to live, not because he was a rapist but because he choose the wrong woman and the wrong man to cross for that matter. Would she ask about this? And if she did, what would he tell her?

  He presumed she wouldn’t be too happy to find out that the man she loved had killed someone, even if it was
Guy Chambers. He hadn’t even begun to process what she might think of all the others but then he wasn’t going to tell her so that didn’t matter. He sighed as he looked down at the man and held his hand out to Mark for the lead pipe. He heard the laughter burst from Mark’s mouth as he passed him the lead and walked off towards the entrance.

  “I’ll see you in ten, mate,” he called as his footsteps echoed out of the doorway.

  Alex stared for six of those minutes as he listened to the man start the begging process and clamber up to his knees again, as best he could with the damage there. They all did that, begged for their lives as if it would make a difference to him somehow. It never did so he just gazed at the stuttering fool. The image of her asleep in his bed after the event drifted through his mind. He remembered watching her all night so he could ensure she was safe, and promised himself to never leave her alone again, to keep her protected. She’d looked so small in that foetal position and he’d stroked her beautiful head until she’d stretched her lean body back out again and finally relaxed enough to sleep peacefully. That she’d trusted him enough to fall asleep at all, given her attack, was so mesmerizing that he’d just stayed there and watched her breathing, kept his fingers attached to hers to remind himself of her touch, even though she hadn’t wanted to give it to him. He wasn’t surprised at the time. He must have disgusted her with his actions.

  Eventually the thought that he had other matters to attend to today stirred him back into action. He raised the length of lead, looked into the man’s eyes, smiled at them widening in fear, and then smashed it repeatedly into the side of his head. Sadly, the dull thud of cracking bone did nothing to appease the angry visions of the fucker’s hands on her, but it did release a little of the tension that it had created for him. However, if the experience was supposed to be cathartic in some way, it fell short of total exoneration.