“Well, that was quite a speech. Why haven’t you walked away from him yet?”
“He won’t let me. He kidnapped me and brought me here to do God knows what, and I don’t have my passport, and-”
“What utter rubbish. You could have gone to the embassy. Why did you go with Pascal instead?”
“I don’t know. He’s got this way with words. It’s sodding magic or something. I’m beginning to wonder if the pesky fairies are his and not Alex’s at all.”
“Fairies?”
“Yes, they’re there to… Oh, it doesn’t matter. It’s silly really.” She looks at me thoughtfully for a while, probably considering how ridiculous I am. Given my current situation, sitting in a kink club dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe and spouting rambled rubbish from my mouth, I’m not surprised. Best to at least try and defend myself. “It’s just, he...” She holds a hand up to silence me. It works.
“He kidnapped you, as you call it, because he loves you, Elizabeth, and Aiden Phillips was possibly about to tell you everything about him. Your Alexander is, or rather has been, a very wicked man. He is also a sadistic beauty who enjoys torturing woman and beating the hell out of the only man I have ever loved. Unfortunately, he seems to enjoy being the recipient, too. It’s very arousing to watch. I daresay that is what he was about to introduce you to, had you not run from him.”
My mouth’s gaping again. She really is the fount of all knowledge.
“How do you know all this? What about... Why was he such a bastard to me on the plane?”
“I don’t know what he did on the plane, but being a bastard is who he is, or was, depending on your preference in accepting reality. I should think he just wants you to see the real him and accept it. Do you think you can? Because if you can, I suggest you go back over there and tell him you can so that all of this can move forward. I’m quite bored with it all now.”
“What do you mean, you’re bored?”
“I have plans, and this little ‘thing’ of yours is getting in the way of them.” I don’t know what that means, and to be honest I don’t think I care either. I have enough going on in my head without having to deal with another person’s plans, whatever they might be.
“I’m no longer sure what accepting it all entails – women, men, murderers, odd Mafia zones, twisted preferences that mess with my thoughts and cause more problems? I didn’t sign up for all this. I knew he was different, but I don’t think I can do all the other stuff.”
“Is Pascal the only one who’s touched you?”
“What?” Where did that come from? “Umm, yes, a little, but it was under Alex’s control. How do you...” This is actually a little embarrassing now. Why does she know everything about this? How?
“As it should be, and if you want nothing else than that then you tell him and that will be all you will be involved in. Don’t you see, Elizabeth? You have all the power here, not him, for the first time in his life. And yet you are giving it to him on every occasion by fearing him and suffering your own feelings. If you want him, tell him how it’s going to be. Stand up for yourself. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Is that what you’ve done with Pascal? Because it doesn’t seem to be working out too well for you.”
“I won’t share him, with anyone, and he’s not ready for that yet because of your Alexander and this tedious little situation you’ve all got going on. But he’ll come back to me when he’s ready, and I have everything I need until he returns.”
I can’t even begin to process what the hell that means, although my eyes can’t help but widen at the thought that she’s waiting for Pascal, as if anyone could ever own him and be at peace. I dare say she’ll be waiting quite a while for that party to happen.
“Well, great for you. I, however, don’t know how to stand up for myself, apparently, because I tried that on the plane. I tried to stand up for myself, be feisty Beth and stay in control of him, but he just ignored me, kept playing his games and humiliated me. I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep taking his strange punishments, if that’s what this is. I haven’t done anything wrong, for God’s sake. He’s the one who told me he’s a murderer. You’d think that would mean asking for forgiveness from the woman he loves, not turning on her and showing her how much of an arsehole he can be. This is not normal behaviour. He is not normal.”
“Did he ever say he was? Did he ever imply to you that he would be easy? Elizabeth, he has chosen you, has shown you and will continue to show you as long as you have the strength to take it. Do you think it has been easy for Pascal to understand him? Love him? Do not think you are the only one who has to handle him. Pascal has spent years teaching him to absolve himself, enjoy himself, be at one with who he is. Do not assume you don’t know how to handle his behaviour. If you didn’t, Pascal would have made you go away long ago. It is within his power to do just that.”
“Pascal is not in control of Alex. No one is. That’s pretty clear to everyone, including Pascal.”
“Really? You need to be cleverer than this, Elizabeth. Think about the situation you found them in in his office. Who was in control of that? Who came to get you when you ran from them? Who told you what you’d need to do to make this work? Where is your man at this very moment? Your Alexander is only in control of his thoughts for a while before Pascal shows him how to behave again. Conner Avery may be his conscience, but Pascal is his confidante, and Pascal is his peace. It’s a gift reserved for only him, a gift Alexander gives without even knowing he’s doing it. Pascal is trying to hand him over to you. I gave him this time, gave him the space he needed to punish himself, discover himself more, and help his beloved Alexander, but you are going to have to catch onto the plan. It’s my turn now.”
What the hell? I don’t even...
My mouth is hanging open as I try to figure out what the hell the woman is talking about. Is she trying to suggest that Pascal is in control of all of this? That I need to be some sort of female carbon copy of the man to have Alex completely? I suppose he has been trying to teach me how to handle his varying moods, how to recognise behaviour patterns and dictate the outcomes of them, how to be submissive sometimes and dominant others. Is that what he meant by his ‘There will be times when he needs me’ speech? When he needs to go too far for me to be able to handle then Pascal will be there for me, for us?
Oh my god. I finally get it, I think. It’s starting to make sense. Pascal doesn’t want to be part of us. He wants to be with the woman sitting in front of me, but it is reasonable to assume that he wants to give Alex over to someone he trusts to look after him, to understand him, to accept him and make him happy. So he’s able to walk away from him with a clear conscience, knowing that he has given him everything he can and that he can leave him in the hands of another. I knew he was a good man in his own way, but he’s just trying to show me what to do, how to handle Alex. I look across to find her studying my shocked face with a small smile crossing her lips. Christ, they must be the two most intelligent people on the planet.
“He doesn’t want Alex?”
“Very much. But your Alexander is not bisexual. If he was, it may be different. Pascal has simply tried to show him the way and give him an experienced outlet for his needs. It’s not easy to be at peace with yourself, Elizabeth, until you understand what you truly need, so these men have been playing with what it is that they both require.”
“And you fit into this how?” Because honestly, I hadn’t even met the woman three hours ago, and now it seems I’m learning all about a background story I wasn’t aware of. Yet another layer of intrigue to tread my way around, which is obviously incredible helpful to my situation…
“I will not share his scars and bruises with anyone else. Your man has marked him enough since he left. Once he returns, they will be for me alone, unless I choose otherwise. It was not something he was willing to accept until you came along.”
“You love him?” Random question, I know, but sudden protective instincts ar
e kicking in from somewhere, as if I have any right to be questioning whatever this is.
“Elizabeth, I don’t need your permission. We have been a part of each other for a long time now. I just need you to do what’s inside you. He can see it, and so can Alexander. He just doesn’t know what to do with it yet.”
“Well, insightful as all this is, I still don’t know how to handle him. It’s a fucking maze that has catastrophe written all over it most of the time. I’m just not strong enough.”
“Stop trying then. If he wants you then make him do it your way. Is that not what Pascal has been telling you all along? He was right when he told me you over think everything. You need to stop that and go with your gut feeling every time. You will never outmanoeuvre him anyway, and you shouldn’t have to, not where love is involved. Pascal plays games with him because he needs to. You do not. He really does know your man very well. You should trust his judgement on whether you’re capable of handling him.”
I’m sure my eyes are slits. They’re not supposed to be daggers of any kind, more complete concentration on trying to understand what she means. I’m just not a dominant. I can’t control Alex. I don’t even want to. I like being at his mercy. I like being under his influence, apart from when he’s being an arsehole, then clearly I don’t. And I don’t get this switching about thing – backwards and forwards, up and down, loud then quiet. Switch, that’s the word Vixon used earlier. What does that mean?
“Am I a switch? Whatever that is.”
“I don’t think so, not in the true sense of the word, but you will need to be for him in a roundabout way. It’s quite an oddity in our world, to be submissive only in the sexual sense of the word. Most subs are just that, with no discussion on the topic other than terms. But to have to fight a dominant man in the real world, to choose your own way with no yielding to orders will be quite a challenge, something my love seems to believe you are capable of. That’s what Pascal is trying to teach you, while trying to show Alexander it’s what he needs. I don’t envy him the task,” she says as she gets up and pours another glass of champagne. “Now, I have a client in a minute. Do you still want to go home? I only have to make a few calls. I’m happy to do it.”
“Other than that, fight me.” He said that, didn’t he? That I should fight him when those lines blurred, when morality and immorality confused each other. Is this one of those situations? I suppose it is, and Pascal seems to think he’s been trying to make me hate him so I understand how it feels to hate, so I can appreciate why he would have committed those acts in the first place. I still can’t see how that would work, but I can see a little logic in it. I’d still rather he just talked to me. Maybe I should just make him get on with it and see how far he’ll go. Is that the way I should prove that none of it matters to me, that I’ll take him whatever he’s done as long as he loves me? Should I just walk over there and say ‘Go on then. Show me what you’ve got. None of it matters. I’ll still love you. You can’t make me hate you, Alex’?
“No, I don’t want to leave.”
“Good girl. If you go through that door, you’ll find my wardrobe. Some of the clothes should fit you, and they will look a damn sight better than whatever that was that you walked over here in. I’ll send my girl in for make-up and hair. Prepare yourself for them.”
“Thank you.” I think that’s the best response here. I’m not even sure what ‘prepare yourself’ means if I’m honest. Prepare myself for what exactly? Am I supposed to go over there all in control again? I don’t know who is in control. She seems to think it should be me. Pascal also seems to think it should be me, but he clearly doesn’t think I should be in control of him after his little ‘you will crawl’ moment. Is there any way of making this simple? “Roxanne?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t understand who’s in charge?”
“Elizabeth, really? Are you dense? Did Pascal ask for your permission?”
“Well, yes, but you know how you found me an hour ago, and-”
“You were confused.” Damn right I was. “And he was trying to teach you to accept your situation.” What? “Did Alexander ask permission?”
“Well, I suppose so. We’ve done the safe word thing, and apart from the random Tara thing on the way over when he didn’t stop even though I screamed it, which I don’t understand at all, he’s never pushed me into anything I didn’t want.”
“Then you are, my dear.” She sounds scarily like Pascal. “It’s really very simple. Stop over thinking everything. You are more than aware of what is going to happen when the three of you engage properly. Embrace it. Let Alexander show you who he is, let Pascal take what he needs from him, and let yourself be a part of it. Relish it. I can promise you will enjoy it, but set the limits yourself. Don’t let him ask you to hate him. Accept him wholly, killer and all.”
Wandering away from me, she closes the door behind her and leaves me in the room, still with a slightly gaping mouth. I’m really not entirely sure I understand everything she said, and I’m also not entirely sure I know what I’m doing, but what I do know is that I’m damned if I’m going to be the weak one in this situation anymore. Pascal knows that’s not who I am. Alex must know that’s not who I am because that’s what he’s asked me for. Why am I the only one who seems to think I can’t do this?
If this is going to have any chance of survival then I need to forget what happened on the plane, whatever that was. I need to slap that down as a Mr. White fuck up, or an Alex oddity that I could use to my advantage if I thought about it. I wonder what he would think if I told him I didn’t care about it, really didn’t care? I wonder what he’d think if I made him watch Pascal and me and didn’t give him a chance to say no. Because I could make that happen, make him feel that same pain he put me through.
I can clearly see the look in his eyes when he told me he’d stop it if I looked at him.
“Elizabeth, look at me and I’ll stop.”
Elizabeth. He called me Elizabeth.
“The choice is yours, Elizabeth.”
All the way through, he kept saying my name, kept reinforcing my name.
“You do want this, Elizabeth. You told me you did.”
I did tell him I wanted it. I told him I wouldn’t accept anything less than him giving me everything – every thought, every memory, every tear, every twisted, sadistic thing. I told him that no matter what, he had to be honest, had to show me, let me understand him and be a part of him.
“If I say your name, you’ll know I’m still with you.”
He really was trying to show me how much of a bastard he could be, make me hate him. Oh god, and I should hate him. I should, but I don’t. There’s not one part of me that could ever hate him.
“Alex…” His name comes from my lips like some unanswered prayer, as if, for the first time, I finally understand him. I’m finally getting a glimpse of how his messed up brain looks at things. That he would try to make me hate him, simply so that I can understand what it feels like to truly hate, is his way of showing me that he wants me to understand him that well, that deeply. Who else would do that? Who else would offer the potential devastation of a ruined relationship to prove how far he’s willing to go to give me what I need from him. So that I’ll forgive him, so that I’ll feel him completely, and so that I’ll absolve him.
Most men would hide it, wouldn’t they? Most men would go out of their way to avoid any depth on the subject. Alexander White himself would normally hide such things and manipulate the situation so that he doesn’t need to answer the questions, let alone tell you the truth. Yet, here he is offering me the option of hating him so that I can, wholeheartedly, love him.
Murderer, sadist, lover.
Mine.
I open my eyes to find myself hovering in the doorway of a large dressing room lined with clothing racks. Clothes, yes, I need some of those. It’s a shame they’re not my own, but there has to be something here that will make me feel prepared for them, for him. Funnily enough, I�
��m not in the slightest bit bothered about Pascal anymore. Whatever his nasty side is, it’s not meant for me. It’s only meant for the weak me. I realise that now. Looking back, he’s only ever shown me that kind of behaviour when I’ve run, or when I’ve been what he would consider disloyal or rude. Alex has clearly been his world, his life’s work, his project of sorts – the man he loves. This is his way of putting someone on a new course, of helping them and proving to himself that he can be reasonably good, decent even. Is that what he was before whatever he has with Roxanne?
I slide the door on one of the many cream wardrobes and am assaulted by hundreds of perfectly pressed clothes. It’s perfectly lined up, all neatly boxed and tucked with colour coordination going on everywhere. Instantly, I feel my hand move toward a blue dress – Alex’s eyes, Pascal’s suit… I don’t know whom I’m thinking of more. The softness of the fabric reminds me of crushed velvet, which has me smiling as I remember the first time I saw him in Rome. There was such a bright light shining as he stood there and urinated on that poor chap. So full of life, arrogance, verve, and utterly astounding in his own unique way, why he would feel the need to punish himself, I don’t know. Maybe I never will, but I will be asking him. If he trusts me enough, perhaps he’ll tell me. It would be good to understand him a little more. The light bounces off the material and glints a paler blue back at me, which brings me back to those eyes again, those never ending pools of liquid ice. Cool, distant, detached, but not to me, not anymore. He’s doing all of this for me. In his own screwed up way, he’s trying to show me how much he loves me, wants to protect me. He’s trying to get his point across and pull me closer. Oh, and I want to be closer again, want to feel those arms around me, his breath on my face, the weight of him on my body, his hands firmly grasped onto what he owns. My throat, his throat, it doesn’t matter anymore. Skin on skin, his scent, his force, his voice, his tattoo, his...
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