Feeling White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Nice underwear,” he says quietly as he watches me slide my dress back on while he does up the buttons on his shirt and tucks it in his trousers.

  “I’m glad you like it.” I giggle as I turn my back on him so he can do the lacing up. He does and I can’t stop more giggling as he cinches me in tighter. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to breathe if you keep that up.” He doesn’t speak, just keeps tying the lace tighter until his hands still on my hips.

  “When did you see Pascal last?” he says over my shoulder in that voice that makes me tremble a little. Where the hell has this version come from and why are we talking about Pascal? Shit, he shouldn’t have given me a lift yesterday. Do I tell Alex or not? Is he going to be pissed? Well, he can’t be at me; I haven’t done anything wrong. Don’t tell him, Beth, best not to. “And do not lie to me, Elizabeth.” Oh, Fuck!

  “Actually, he gave Teresa and I a lift home the other day, funnily enough,” I reply as nonchalantly as possible so as to diffuse any potential anger that might be threatening. “He just happened to be passing,” I continue as I turn around in his arms and take a look at him to see who I’m dealing with. Definitely darkening blues so I smile sweetly and rise up on my toes to kiss him. He accepts this kiss but pushes me away a little.

  Oh for Christ’s sake, I seriously can’t keep up. Two minutes ago he was giving me buildings, telling me intimate details of his childhood and making love to me on my own boardroom table, and now he’s mad at me? It was just a lift.

  “Do you want him?” What? Oh my god, he’s jealous? After everything we’ve just been through?

  “That is the most ridiculous question I’ve ever heard.” I can’t even begin to look at him as I stride through the door and try to dampen the fact that in a small way, yes, I do. Why is completely unknown but it doesn’t mean I’d ever do anything about it. His hand grabs my arm before I make it to the top of the stairs.

  “That’s not an answer, Elizabeth.” Arghhhh!

  I turn abruptly to face him and shrug out of his hold. Infuriating man, gorgeous, yes, irreplaceable definitely, but this is not acceptable regardless of how correct he might be in his assumption. My eyes narrow and my hands suddenly become living accessories of my mouth as they wave in his face to get his attention.

  “Alex, did you not hear a word I said in there? I love you. You. No one else. Whatever you may be thinking about Pascal, stop it. He’s not relevant here. I could have had him but I chose you. I still choose you. And while we’re at it, keeping Pascal away from me is ridiculous. He is your friend and he’s done nothing to dishonour that friendship. In fact, he was the one who told me to go with you and that he knew it was you that I wanted.” I can’t even believe I’m poking him in the chest as he backs away from me a little and looks almost shocked at my venom. I suddenly realise I am enjoying my rant and decide to keep going as he stares at me and begins to open his mouth. “And shut that mouth before I completely lose it. Do you have any idea how much I have to put up with when women are around you? They drool over you as if you’re the last available man on the planet. Clearly you are the most incredible thing most of them have ever seen, but honestly, it is hard bloody work trying to convince myself that I’m the only one you’re interested in, and frankly, I don’t believe it myself most of the time. So you having jealous hissy fits over your friend is just... well it’s just fucking stupid.”

  There, rant over. His fingers close around mine, which are still attached to his chest, and he drags me towards him with a slight smirk on his face. He’s fucking laughing at me? My mouth opens again.

  “Actually, I was just going to tell you that you could have him if you wanted him, that I would allow it if it would please you,” he says as he pulls my hand behind my back and holds it there tightly in his grasp, his damned brow rising at me as he waits for an answer.

  Wow, shit, didn’t see that coming. What on earth do I say to that? Apparently he’s not jealous. I have no idea what to say, and the fact that I can still feel him seeping down the inside of my thigh is a tad distracting. Who has these types of conversations? Cleary anything but a quick no is going to give the game away. Does he want me to sleep with Pascal? He is sodding kinky after all? His grasp on my wrist tightens and it instantly reminds me of Pascal’s pressured grip, which is not fucking useful in the slightest. In milliseconds my brain searches rapidly for the correct answer to this question as his unwavering eyes hold mine. There absolutely isn’t one, in any variety of worlds.

  “Would it please you?” he asks again, licking his lips.

  “No, I told you, I choose you,” I reply as quickly as I can. Much as the thought may appeal in some small way, I am not going down that road. The man in front of me has everything I need and my love for him only increases as a smile creeps across his beautiful face.

  “I know what you told me, Elizabeth, and I believe you. However, I told you I would want to take you further and there is nothing I would deny you. Sex holds no room for pretence. Your deceit will only fuel a desire that can’t be realised, and that, I’m afraid, is not my idea of love,” he replies smoothly. He might as well be talking about a shopping list for all the emotion he has in his voice, and I stare up at him with something like amazement in my eyes.

  I haven’t got a bloody clue what I’m supposed to say to any of that. Does he want me to have sex with his friend? We’ve just had an intimate connection of love and now he’s discussing threesomes? How can someone with such a jealous streak and explosive temper even begin to process this as normal? It’s not normal, but then nothing about the man is normal, is it? Christ, I wish Belle was here, or even Teresa. Maybe they’d have a sodding answer. Even Conner might give me a hint as to what the hell the man is trying to achieve. Maybe it would help if I understood what the hell was going on between him and Pascal. Oh, fuck it!

  I shrug my wrist out of his grasp and sigh with exhaustion. This has probably been the most challenging two weeks of my life and frankly, I can’t find the energy to deal with this anymore. No matter how much I need him and love him, at the moment I just feel like I need space to try and find a way through every emotion that’s flying through me.

  I turn and walk away from him with nothing more than the clicking of my heels. I haven’t even got the enthusiasm to hold my head up anymore so I hang my head and walk down the stairs while glancing at the floor space below, which is now mine. It doesn’t hold as much interest as it did before as I walk over it and out of the door.

  I stand by the car waiting for him to lock the door and watch his body as it moves fluidly around. Every inch of him is dominant in some way and I wonder what that actually means to me anymore. I feel like I know him intimately one minute and then in the next second, he floors me with some piece of information or demonstration of a man I still sadly know nothing about and don’t understand on any level. He wanders across casually and opens my door for me with a tilt of his head, as if there is nothing left to discuss, as if he’s right and he knows he is. Sadly, he probably is and I curse my traitorous body for thinking about Pascal in any way whatsoever. Damn those intoxicating green eyes.

  “Would you like to go for dinner or shall I take you home?” he says as he slides into his seat and reverses out of the parking area.

  “I’m pretty tired, can you just take me home, to mine please,” I reply as I gaze out of the window. I can’t look at him. If I do I’ll change my mind and I just need to be alone to think.

  “Okay,” is his quiet response. It shocks me. I was pretty sure an argument would ensue and I watch him from the corner of my eye as he heads out into the traffic and turns for my apartment.

  The drive remains silent as I ponder what it is that I need time to think about and before I know it, he’s parked underneath our building. As we walk to my apartment, I can’t make up my mind if I want him to come in with me or not. Belle’s at Conner’s for the night and I relish the thought of the house to myself. I unlock the door and turn to look at him. His devilish smile
has returned and I can’t help the softening of my heart as my gaze lingers on his mouth.

  “Coffee?” I ask as I reach down and throw my shoes in the doorway.

  “Oh thank Christ, she speaks. I was wondering if I’d scared you to the point of running,” he replies as he swats me on the backside and makes his way into my kitchen. Unbelievably, he appears to know exactly where everything in my kitchen is as he busily gets cups out of cupboards and flicks on the kettle. “Don’t you have a machine?” he asks as he sneers at a canister of instant.

  “No, we drink tea here, never got around to buying one,” I reply as I wander off to the bedroom to get changed. I need something comfortable on and a quick freshen up down below.

  Ten minutes later and I’m greeted with a very relaxed Alex lounging on my sofa, having removed his jacket, drinking his tea from one of my mugs. I stare at him for a moment. It seems so odd to see him in my space. Our whole relationship has been based at his house and I find it strangely uncomfortable to see him sitting casually in my home. That expensive black suit seems too easy on him for this sofa and that black hair too perfectly dishevelled. It’s as if he’s too big for the space around him somehow.

  “Better?” he says as he points to my cut offs and Jack Jones green t-shirt.

  “Different, not necessarily better,” I reply as I pick up my tea and sit beside him.

  “So what’s on your mind apart from me giving you a lot to think about?” he says as he turns toward me and pulls my hair back out of the grip I’ve just put it in. I raise my brow at him. “I like your hair down. Sue me. My legal department will eat you alive.” He smirks at me as he runs his fingers through it. “If I don’t first, that is.” I can’t stop the giggle that bursts through my mouth. His eyes immediately flood with warmth and I lean my head onto the sofa and gaze at him.

  “You always give me a lot to think about. Half the time I don’t have a clue what to do with what you make me think about.”

  “Well that sounds confusing,” he replies as he grins wickedly and sips at his tea. My gaze lands on his hands and I feel the blush rise across my cheeks at my less than wanted thoughts.

  Oh get a grip, Beth!

  “It is.” Very, always.

  “Mmm... What else? Something else is troubling you.” Oh, so now he’s a bloody mind reader as well. I only wish I had that ability. Perhaps I’d have a hope of gleaming what it is that goes through his mind then.

  “I think my mum’s got cancer again.” I might as well get straight down to it. His face tenses as he grabs my hand and pulls it to his mouth.

  “Why on earth didn’t you tell me?” he says as he frowns at me. “I wouldn’t have been so cavalier with you if I’d known what you were going through.”

  “I don’t know. I only found out on Monday when we went for lunch. It was pretty obvious she wasn’t well so I called Dad on Tuesday. I’m going to see her tomorrow. Dad told me about testing but he doesn’t want her worrying about us worrying, so I’m going to wing it and see what happens.”

  “Is that why you got so drunk? You should have called me straight away. I could have helped. Christ, Elizabeth, you’re the one pushing me for emotions all the time and the minute you’ve got something to deal with, you hide it from me?” he says as he runs his hand through his hair in frustration. He begins to open his mouth again when the door buzzer goes. Who the hell could that be? “Stay there,” he says as he gets up and goes to answer the door. Several clipped words later and he walks into the kitchen area with a large box and begins opening it. I wander over to him to see what’s going on and gasp as he pulls out the large machine.

  “Is that a fucking coffee machine?” I seriously can’t believe he’s bought a bloody coffee machine at this time of night just because I haven’t gotten around to getting one. And where the hell did he get it from? This is getting beyond ridiculous.

  “Yes. Either you have one here or you’ll have to move in with me. I cannot abide bad coffee and I fucking hate tea,” he says as he pushes things along the counter top with his back toward me to make room for the thing that looks just like his. My mouths instantly gapes as my brain processes his words.

  “Did you hear what you just said?” I reply in utter shock. He pauses for a second and then carries on with his fiddling.

  “I’m perfectly aware of what I said,” he says as he plugs the machine in and fills the water section. “Open this,” he continues nonchalantly as he hands me some scissors and coffee beans and flicks on the switches.

  He wants me to move in with him? Well, actually, he can’t do or he wouldn’t have bought the coffee machine, would he? Clearly he doesn’t want me to move in with him. I can’t stop the wave of disappointment that rolls across me at the thought as I gaze at his back and his perfectly toned backside. Oh stop being stupid, Beth. Well he can damn well have the money for the marvellous thing. I wander over to my bag and grab my personal chequebook.

  “How much was it?” I ask as I sign the cheque and fill out his name on the header line.

  “Why is that relevant?” he asks over his shoulder as he turns and looks at me. His body instantly tenses but a smirk begins to adorn his beautiful face. “Oh, I see… Three thousand.”

  Oh my god, for a bloody coffee machine? Well, I can’t back out now so I scribble the amount down and push the cheque across to him with a smile. He promptly picks it up and gazes at it before ripping it in half and dumping it in the bin. The bastard!

  “If that’s staying here then I’m buying it,” I practically shout at him as I point at the machine. He chuckles and lifts the glass cups out of the box without a word in response. “Alex, I’m serious. This is not okay.” He turns with a sigh and spreads his hands on the counter in front of me. My groin tightens at his height over me as I sit on the other side and look up at him. Damn him.

  “If you think I’m accepting a penny from you, you’re sorely mistaken, and besides, it’s as much for me as it is for you,” he says with a pleading expression. “Do not do this again, Elizabeth. We’ve talked about this. Just let me be in love with you and stop pursuing an argument that doesn’t need to happen.”

  Is that what I’m doing? I thought I was just standing up for myself. His hand grazes my cheek as he turns back to the machine, which is now dripping the wonderful smelling coffee into the glasses. Actually, I have a right to stand up for myself even if he does make it hard. I try to fathom a way of getting three thousand pounds into his bank account and suddenly realise we actually do his catering. It’s pretty simple really. I’ll just pay the money into our account and not charge him for part of the next lunch. Brilliant. God, I’m good, sneaky too, apparently.

  “So tell me how can I help with your mother?” he says as he sits down opposite me and places the coffees down then reaches behind him for the sugar canister and starts loading my drink. “And how the hell do you stay so toned with this amount of sugar?”

  “If you met my mother, you’d understand. It’s in the genes. Belle’s not so lucky. She has to work like stink for her figure, and there’s nothing you can do unfortunately. I can only hope she has the strength to fight it again,” I reply sadly. There really isn’t anything anybody can do, but the thought that he cares gives me some comfort, and as his hand finds mine, I gaze up into his face with the hope that he’ll help me through it. “I’d like you to meet her, you know, before she gets too ill. She’d hate to meet you at her worst.” His face looks suddenly confused.

  “You... You want me to meet her?” His tone is incredulous as if it’s the strangest thing he’s ever heard and I realise he’s nervous as I watch him chew the side of his lip.

  “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want her to meet the man I’m in love with? If you want to, that is. You don’t have to. I just thought... Well... Oh, I don’t know,” I reply, questioning if he even wants that amount of closeness with a family unit. He clearly has no idea what a decent family means and I don’t want to push him in any way.

  I stir m
y coffee uncomfortably as I wait for a response. I have no idea what’s going through his mind. Two hours ago we were arguing about buildings, thinking about his abusive bastard of a father, making love and then discussing Pascal. Now we’re sitting here talking about him meeting my potentially very ill mum and I haven’t got a clue how I’m holding in the tears that are threatening to spill again.

  “Have you told your parents about us?” he eventually asks quietly as he gazes at me across his coffee.

  “Of course I have. Not in intimate detail, obviously, but they do know who you are. I’m pretty sure my father might kill you if he knew any more.” My wry smile is clearly not lost on him as he blinks his eyes a little and looks down at the table, furrowing his brow.

  “I’m positive he would. I daresay nobody will ever be good enough for his little girl. I’m certainly not.” His sad smile almost breaks my heart and I grab his chin and tilt his head up without thinking about what he needs to hear. I want him with me and I want my family to meet him. His strength is what I need right now to help me through the time to come, not his insecurities.

  “Can you come with me tomorrow?” His eyes search mine for a few minutes as if he’s trying to make up his mind if I’m serious or not. Does he honestly still believe he’s not worthy for some bizarre reason? “I really want you to come with me. I want to show you off. It will do my mum the world of good to look at you. Dad’s well past his prime,” I say with a giggle, trying to lighten the mood. The curl of his lip lets me know I’ve managed it.

  “Okay, what time do we leave? I have some things I need to do in the morning,” he asks as he leans back and flicks the machine again, all the way up, damn Pascal.

  I gaze at him and wonder what on earth tomorrow will bring. Alexander White in my family home will be a sight to behold and probably a very emotional state of affairs.

  “Around ten. Can we take the bike? Dad will absolutely love it.”