Feeling White

by Charlotte E Hart

  Good. Arsehole.

  - Pascal, I don’t want you to see Teresa tomorrow. She deserves more so I’m asking for your help. Please do the right thing. Your Rose

  I shouldn’t end it with a kiss, should I? I’m not even sure I should end it like that full stop. Your rose? Really? Stupid Beth.

  Sod it, I will start saying what I mean to these damned domineering men that have suddenly become a part of my everyday life. What chance do I have if I don’t say what I mean? And really, I am his rose I suppose. He calls me that, and for whatever reason, I do feel connected to him in some strange way, some unusual pull that I can’t deny. Maybe he does that to all women? It’s yet another thing I have absolutely no clarity on whatsoever.

  I hit send and hope he’s true to his word. I know I’ll have to deal with Teresa at some point and also my guilt associated with it, but I’ll find a way through that when I have to.

  Now, Alex. I look out the window again and, oh god he’s gone. That can only mean he’s in the house so I swiftly swing my head around to the door and suck in a huge breath to prepare myself for whatever it is that I’m about to get involved in.

  Nothing happens.

  In fact, ten minutes later and I’m still standing here with nothing happening. This was not expected, so clearly I’m now biting my thumbnail, wondering what the hell to do because this silent thing can’t continue and I have no idea whether I should be going in search of him or just waiting for him to come and find me. If I go to him, am I backing down? Is he playing some sort of dominance dance with me to see who will win this battle? My phone beeps, making me jump a bit and unfortunately highlighting just how nervous I really am. I thought I was in control and feeling fine about how to handle Alex. It appears I am not.

  - The right thing for whom? You should be cautious with your feelings, my rose. You sound a little covetous with your demands.

  Bastard.

  Trust the man to know exactly what I mean without me actually saying it. I roll my eyes at the message and continue to hope that he’ll get the point and do the right thing. Whether it’s genuinely for Teresa or just me is questionable, but I’m still working through that one. It is, of course, highly possible that he’ll ignore me and do whatever the hell he wants anyway, but I’ve tried and I’m not giving him anymore to play with than that. I certainly don’t want to get my feelings for Pascal involved in any of this. I’ve got enough to deal with where Alex is concerned because try as I might, I can’t stop myself from wanting to go and find him so we can make this better somehow. I’m still mad but as long as he shows some contrition, we’ll be fine. Well, we will when he tells me who that woman was and why he drove off with her.

  Making my way down the stairs, I search for signs of life then hear tinkling of piano keys. There’s either someone else in the house or he’s in the music room. I’m pretty sure he won’t be wanting an argument in there so I try to relax myself a bit in the hope that we won’t have to endure more screaming. It’s our room, our lovely room, the room that holds our song and makes me remember all of the emotions surrounding how he makes me feel, all of the newly found love he has swirling around inside him that he gives to me because he’s only ever loved me, and will only ever love me apparently.

  My hand pushes the door open to see him standing over the keys with a glass of Cognac in one hand and his fingers hovering over the notes. His face seems pensive almost, lost in his thoughts, which are more than likely dark.

  “Do you play?” It comes out a little shakily but something has to break the silence, and funnily enough, I’ve never asked him the question. He doesn’t turn to me, just keeps staring at the piano and sighs.

  “No, I could never create something as beautiful as music. That sort of thing is intended for fingers like yours,” he replies quietly. He’s in tortured soul mode. My heart very nearly combusts at the thought because we caused this. Together we verbally assaulted each other and made us both weaker. God, I hate that. Well, that and the fact that he’s just driven off with another bloody woman.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think your hands can do plenty of things very beautifully indeed. In fact I remember begging for them to work mercilessly.” He frowns and taps the keys again.

  “Only when touching you,” he replies softly as he turns toward me with a gentle lilt of his mouth. It’s so sad, so despairing that I immediately want to run into his arms so that I can wash all of this away and make us fit together again. I wrap my arms around my chest for comfort as his eyes gaze across at me. His mouth opens as if he’s about to tell me something and then he looks at the floor. I’m keeping my mouth shut. I did my bit and started this conversation, tried to keep it light and make him comfortable. Now it’s his turn because he needs to make this better. Eventually, his head comes back up and he gazes again, warm blue eyes smoothing the path for whatever he’s going to say, and those lips quietly opening and shutting with no actual sound until he’s found his words.

  “I told myself I would be better for you, that I would try to change my behaviour so that you wouldn’t fall foul of it, and I haven’t lived up to that. I’m sorry for making it sound as if your business wasn’t important because it is. In fact, it’s exceptional, given the current climate,” he says as he begins to pace about. My eyebrows shoot up as I stay rooted to my spot and watch him, because self-made millionaire, Alexander White, just flattered my business. He also appears to be doing quite well in the apology section of this statement. “And I despise that I frightened you purposefully. It was wrong of me. Actually, it was fucking unforgivable. So now I’m extremely irritated with myself for being so unreasonable and am uncertain of how to make this better for you. I just wanted you close to me. Frankly, I’ve never done so much damned apologizing before in my life and I’m not entirely sure what to do next.”

  His frame comes to a halt three feet in front of me as he searches my eyes again for an emotion that he can hold onto. I can feel him trying to work out if he’s done enough or if I’m expecting something more from him. Some regret was expected, but that was way past what I thought would come out of his mouth. I’m really struggling to hold back the grin that’s tickling the corners of my mouth because that was just wonderful, utterly apologetic and completely dream worthy. I’d probably swoon if I wasn’t still gripping my arms quite so tightly. I think I may have just won a battle, I think I may have proved my point effectively, and I think maybe I should apologise, too.

  “It wasn’t all your fault. I’m pretty sure I said some horrible things, too, so I’m sorry for that,” I reply quietly as I gaze across at him in all his masculinity, sex oozing off his brooding face, then quickly remember that he did still drive off with a woman. “I am not sorry for standing up for myself, though, because you cannot order me around. You do know that, don’t you?” He rolls his eyes at me and reaches for my hand.

  “Yes, Elizabeth, you were quite vocal with your retaliation,” he replies as he fiddles with my bracelet and pulls my fingers to his mouth with a very deviant smile. “And I think I actually liked it, oddly enough.”

  He did? He didn’t seem like it at the time. And is he damn well laughing at me? My snort of irritation doesn’t go unnoticed as his face flattens a little and I snatch my hand away from him.

  “I’m glad I amused you. I’m not sure I can say the same of you if I’m honest. Who was that woman? And why did you get all... threatening, which I’m not very happy about by the way?” Might as well get it all out there why we’re still not perfect. If we’re going to argue again, I’d rather do it before we make up. His eyes close as he lets go of my hand, shakes his head and wanders back towards his glass of brandy. It’s not a good sign.

  “Her name is Caroline Anderson and I didn’t want you involved in what I had to say to her. It wasn’t pleasant. She’s an old acquaintance that is no longer of concern to me or you and I think it’s best if we leave it at that.”

  Not a hope in hell, Mr. White, and shit, I knew I recognised her - Vogue
model extraordinaire, albeit shorter than I thought.

  “Do you honestly believe that’s an acceptable explanation for threatening me? What is it that you didn’t want me to hear?” My hands are beginning their waving about thing. Thankfully I’m wearing clothes this time so there’s no need to hold a sheet up.

  “I’m not discussing this,” he says tersely with a sudden hardening of his eyes. Mr. Pissed Off is returning. My snarl of anger shifts back into gear as I feel my eyes narrow at him.

  “Yes, you bloody are. If we go any further it’s with no barriers. We can have another damn argument if you want to.” He is not backing away from this and I will not feel threatened without a very good reason so he better have one. His fingers pinch his brow as he lets out a long breath.

  “Just let this go,” he says quietly as he walks past me and begins to leave the room.

  “Alex, I want a reason for you behaving like a caveman. If you expect me to forgive you for treating me like a slave then you need to help me understand why.” I’m hoping that might appeal to his intelligence. Frankly, I’m beginning to doubt my own around him at the moment. He stops and turns to face me with his hand pocketed and what appears to be a pained expression. His sigh doesn’t give me much hope either. My brow goes up as my hands find their way to my hips. I’m so not backing down on this one.

  “Fine, I fucked her three times. She was Conner’s girlfriend at the time and he was in love with her. I didn’t give a shit and pursued her so that I could have her. She’s been blackmailing me with that for years and I’d finally had enough. Has that satisfied your curiosity, Elizabeth? Do you feel better now you know what sort of man you’re with?” he replies with that underlying cold tone of indifference that he does so well. No self disgust, no apologetic tone, just the facts - how very businessman of him.

  I don’t even think I have a response for that. I thought Conner was his best friend. I’m sure my face is saying all that needs to be said because I can feel it screwing up in confusion. Blackmail? Does that really go on? And why would he do that to his friend? Wow, he really is a bastard. I’m in love with a complete fucking arsehole, a traitor.

  “Right.”

  It’s all I’ve got. At least I know why he didn’t want to tell me. I suppose he did tell me he wasn’t a good man. It appears he really isn’t. If I’m honest, I’m struggling to even look at him. What a crappy thing to do to your friend. Is he the least bit remorseful about it or is it just something he does with no care for the other person involved? I haven’t got a clue what to do or say next so I just stare at the floor in the hopes of making this go away.

  “You see, this is why I didn’t want you involved. This is not who you are, and it isn’t what you want to hear from me, is it? But this is what I have been, Elizabeth. In fact, I’ve been far worse in some cases, and while I am trying to be better, I can’t reverse my past for you,” he says from the doorway. I still can’t look at him so I cross the room and plonk myself down on the sofa, staring blankly at the alcohol table and wondering whether I should have some.

  “No, I don’t suppose you can,” I whisper in reply because he can’t, can he? And what’s worse is that I really don’t know anything about what he’s done to people in his past. He’s always told me he didn’t deserve me and I suppose this is the type of thing he meant. Because to pursue and have sex with someone who belonged to your best friend is just abhorrent to me, just plain horrible. Why would he do that? Did having no one love him as a child make him unable to empathise with someone else’s feelings in that sort of scenario? Or did he just do it with no regard to Conner’s feelings at all because he could?

  Either way, it just makes him a man with no moral compass whatsoever, doesn’t it? And a complete bastard in my books. What other shit does he have in that damned closet that he’s going to hit me with at some point? Christ, the man is some sort of lethal killing machine, with no ability to empathise, who enjoys sadistic sexual pursuits.

  My fingers find my temples in a bid to rid myself of the flash of images that pass before me, blood, Conner’s happy, in love face, Alex with a blonde woman and then our argument, all the time laced with that threatening tone that lingers over his words and actions. It doesn’t work as my mind continues to spin with vile visions and angry voices, visions that are beginning to show me who he really is, or at least was. It’s not the man I know but it clearly is the man he could be without me.

  “I don’t understand why you would do that. Why would you want to do that to him?” I ask as he hovers behind me. I’m not even sure I want an answer. He sits down on the opposite sofa and looks at me with sad eyes.

  “Because I could. I’m a bastard like that, Elizabeth. I wanted her and therefore I took her,” he replies with a small shrug - a fucking shrug as if it’s a completely acceptable answer. It really isn’t. Where on earth my Alex is in all of this is a mystery because this man is not him.

  “You didn’t care that it would hurt Conner?”

  “If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have paid the whore off, would I? I just didn’t care enough to stop me from doing it in the first place apparently,” he replies as he leans back into his seat and rests his head on his hand. “I’m not proud of it if that’s any help, and I’ve just found out that he knew anyway. She got three million out of me and he knew all along. He never said a word to me, never hit me, never turned me away, nothing. Why would he do that? Why would he continue to be my friend when I’d just ripped away something that he wanted desperately?” he asks. Actually, I’m not sure that he’s asking me, more musing to himself as if he hasn’t got a clue why someone would forgive him.

  I eventually lift my head from my hands and stare at him with a sigh. What the hell does he need to understand how much people care about him, that he might deserve love in spite of his actions? Does he seriously not get that Conner could want him more than his misdeeds, might want to give him a chance to redeem himself or at least prove himself again? God, his father must have done a real number on him. Either that or his sense of appropriate is so misguided that he can’t see right from wrong at all.

  “Do I seriously need to answer that?” His faced looks confused. “Honestly, Alex, can you not see why he let this happen?”

  “I don’t understand his response, no. He should have beaten me to death, or at the very least let me see how much he loathed me for what I’d done to him,” he replies with a frown. “It’s what I would have done.” Oh god, the man really doesn’t have a clue.

  “That’s what decent human beings do for the people they love, Alex. They forgive and forget because they can’t bear the thought of being without someone. They worry that their life would be somehow less fulfilled or perhaps meaningless without that love. Clearly you were more important than Caroline was to him and he decided you were worth his loyalty or maybe compassion. I’m not sure which, but regardless, Conner must love you very much. You should be honoured by his allegiance, Alex. You should also be very proud to call him a friend and a confidant.”

  He snorts in derision and shakes his head at me. I don’t know why I expected anything less. The man knows nothing of love or real feelings.

  “Well he’s a bloody idiot then. He shouldn’t have forgiven me. I clearly didn’t merit his compassion as you put it, still don’t.” He’s possibly right if I’m honest, but it doesn’t stop me wanting to rub his tortured soul and make him love himself a little bit more.

  “Why do you do that? Why do you believe you’re not worthy?”

  “Because I’m not. Isn’t it obvious?” Oh bless him, arsehole father.

  “Not to me it isn’t. I believe you’re worth every second of my time and effort, but if you truly believe you’re not deserving then maybe I should just move on and find someone else who is, someone better?”

  Unfortunately I couldn’t, even if he told me to, and as his narrowed, dark blue eyes fly to mine, I raise my brow at him in challenge because he needs to see this, needs to understand how good he ca
n be. He needs to remember the man who treats me like a queen and gives his time to Addisons with so much care that it’s almost humbling to witness.

  “I don’t want you to leave me,” he snarls through clenched teeth. I’m not surprised by that either, and I can’t stop the small smile that brightens my face as I shake my head at him. His face softens back down a bit as he leans his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together, rubbing his thumbs across his lips. “And that was uncalled for.”

  “Was it? Really? I can’t do this on my own, Alex. It won’t work if you don’t believe, too.”

  “Mmm,” he replies with a small smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes and I know he doesn’t really trust what I’m trying to say. He’s still too busy trying to burn me into my seat in the hope I won’t run for the door. At least I’m starting to work him out. I shake off my thoughts and move on to something more positive.

  “Are you going to apologise to him?”

  “I’m not sure if I know how to. It was a long time ago,” he says as he gazes at me.

  “Why don’t you just start with something like, ‘I’m a complete fucking arsehole. I don’t deserve your support or friendship and I’m very thankful that you forgave me?’ I think that will probably work.”

  It would probably work for me. Mind you, the fact that he has very nice shoulders, an incredible backside and a beautiful smile work for me. I’m not sure Conner will have the same core clenching response as I do. His aptly timed beautiful smile appears smoothly and does exactly what it’s intended to do, weakens me completely.