“Still in New York. I’ve been with Alex and-”
“Oh my fucking God. What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were coming home. Why aren’t you home yet?”
“Calm down, Belle. You know I couldn’t get home without a passport, and I needed to talk to him to get me home.”
“So why are you still there. Honestly, Beth, go to the damn embassy. Or I’ll send it to you. Give me an address.”
“I don’t need you to now. I’ll get home with him.”
“With him? How? Because if you mean with him, with him, then I swear to god I’m disowning you. I will not let you screw up your future with that bastard anymore. What a prick.”
Oh god, how am I ever going to make her understand this? Even I don’t understand this.
“How’s Conner?”
“Gone, and don’t change the fucking subject. What has he got over you, for fuck’s sake?”
“What?”
“Shitface White.”
“No not that. Did you say Conner has gone?”
“Yes, I got bored, and he was all ‘have you heard from Beth? Is Alex okay?’ Alex? Wanker. As if I give a shit about Alex. And you shouldn’t either. So you-”
“Wait. What do you mean? Have you broken up with him?”
“What does that matter? I’m more concerned about you and getting your sorry backside home.”
“Belle, you call him now and tell him you love him.”
“Fuck off.”
“Belle, I have no idea why you’ve let him go but you get him back. He loves you.”
“Just like you think that dick loves you? Grow up, Beth. The man’s an arsehole. They all are. He left you once and broke your heart, and now he’s manhandled you out of your own country, kidnapped you for fuck’s sake, leaving no ability for you to get home, and you still think he loves you? He’s a fucking control freak. What the hell is going on in your head? You’ve been a disaster half the time you’ve been with him. He’s an arrogant pig who needs chucking, immediately. I’m not watching you go through it again. Enough.”
My hackles rose half way through that statement, not at her having a go at him – well, maybe a little – but more at the fact that she’s right, isn’t she? Every single word that’s come out of her mouth is utterly correct. And yet I keep forgiving him, still keep wanting him to show me how much he loves me. Am I an idiot to feel like this? Should I just leave and be done with them?
I lean my back against the building wall and bang my head against it repeatedly in the hope that clarification might ensue. It doesn’t. The fact is that when I’m with him, he makes it feel right, even when it’s wrong. Yet the moment I speak to someone in the real world, I can see how bloody ridiculous I must seem, how bloody ridiculous this whole world must seem. There’s no way anyone outside of this relationship could ever understand or comprehend what just happened in that room, or what we’ve been through so far, who he is, why he is, and there’s no way I can explain it to them.
“Are you still there?” she says quietly.
“Yes.” Just, my brain is still reeling with thoughts of how much he’s hurt me before now. Visions fly through my mind of his hands on Tara, not listening when I screamed my safe word at him. I was so wounded, and so completely at his mercy. He did that to me, with ease. It doesn’t even matter if I say I forgive him because it’s still sitting inside me, nudging and reminding me what he’s capable of, even if it might have been his random way of showing me something. I do hate him for that, no matter how much I love him. I hate him for making me carry this with me now, this underlying sense of nerves that he’ll do it again.
“You need to let this go, Beth. He’s no good for you. I know I said give it your all, but honestly, honey, the man’s barking mad.” No, he’s not. He’s different, yes, captivating, definitely, an overbearing idiot who needs a damn good slap, more than likely. But mad? Absolutely not.
“I can’t, Belle. I don’t expect you to understand why, but it’s my choice. He’s my choice. I’m a big girl now and I can handle him. And Conner is your choice. You said yes to him, and if you had the faintest clue what he’s been through with Alex then you’d understand why he’s protective of him, why he cares so much. Life is not so simple, Belle. It’s not just black and white and fuck the rest, no matter how much you want to make it that way.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I can’t tell you. It’s not my place to say anything, but Conner loves you, Belle. He adores you. Please don’t throw that away because of me. Call him and tell him you love him, that you’re sorry. If you have to ask him why Alex means so much, make him explain, and then perhaps you can fathom how I feel about him and why.”
There’s an awkward silence as I pinch at the cut on my finger and let the pain ease into me, just like I did at school, just like pushing on a bruise to strangely appreciate the sensation and revel in it. Squeezing it and then releasing, squeezing and releasing. I sigh as the pain dissipates.
“You’re being stupid, Beth. Mark my words, he’ll do it again. He’ll break you until you’re nothing but snot and tears and I won’t pick you up again. Not this time. You should know better. Like you said, you’re a big fucking girl. So this time you can damn well deal with it own your own.”
The deadening of the line only mirrors her words. She’s cut me off. She thinks I’m so ridiculous that she can’t even be bothered to talk to me about it anymore.
I gaze down at the phone in my hand and keep squeezing my finger in some vague hope that she’ll call back, but I know she won’t. It’s not her style. She’s said her piece, and if I want her again, I’ll have to crawl back to her for help. She’ll be professional and work with her normal effective perfection, be civil even, but when it comes to emotions, she’s just closed the door on me. Probably because she can’t handle her own as well as mine, let alone deal with Conner’s or Alex’s.
I fucking hate him for making me do that to her and driving a wedge between us, because there’s never been one there before. For all our differences, she’s always been there to support me, look after me, help me, guide even. And now his actions have taken her from me, all because of his strange sense of normal.
Closing my eyes and sighing out another huge breath, I try to think of a way around all this. I just want everyone happy and settled. It’s Christmas, for God’s sake, and normal people are happy at Christmas. They giggle and drink and discuss fun times together while making new ones. They don’t deal with all this crap and walk around with canes, pretending to be in control of something they’re really not handling at all. Pascal’s cane… Why have I got that? Why did he give it to me?
I scan the road in front of me and wonder what happens next. I need to get home. I need to get to Belle and try to explain so that she doesn’t think I’m completely mental. My head is so not ready for them at the moment, not after that conversation.
Yellow cabs fly up and down the road, honking and blaring their horns as if it’s perfectly acceptable to do that just to let someone know you’re pulling out. It’s nothing like London. There’s no sense of reservation here. It’s all loud and in your face. I hadn’t noticed on the way over, but in these few quiet moments, I remember where I am. New York, New York. A city I’ve always wanted to visit, and now I’m here, and I can’t help but wish I was happier about it. I wish I had come here on better terms and didn’t feel the need to get away from it so quickly so I could make things right with Belle, see my mum maybe, do normal things.
It’s all his fault.
Why didn’t he just bloody talk to me, for fuck’s sake?
“He didn’t know how to get the point across effectively enough.” My head lazily flops to the side to see him walking across to me and taking off his jacket. Strong, blue eyes search mine for the answers to questions he hasn’t asked yet. “Your nose is blue,” he says as he holds his jacket out to me.
“Did I say that out loud?” I must have, I suppose. I must look like a deranged idi
ot, chatting away to myself on the pavement. Or drunk maybe. He nods and leans on the wall beside me as I shrug his warmth on. The cane gets in the way, so I tuck it between my legs and fidget about until I’m comfy again, crossing my arms to try and warm up.
“I wouldn’t let him see that,” he says as he grins down at my thighs clamped around the cane, the silver tip of it glinting in the moonlight. “Not until you’re ready, anyway.”
“Can I slap you?” The thought is so tempting.
“If you like.”
“Several times?”
“If you like.”
“Something more than ‘if you like’ would be good right now.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know, Alex. I’ve just had an argument with Belle because of you, and I despise myself for that, and you. I don’t know how to make everyone okay with this, any of it.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“You absolutely will not. Besides, she wouldn’t speak to you anyway. I just need to get home and then I’ll talk to her. Did you know she’s broken up with Conner because of this?”
“No,” he says as he hangs his head a little.
“Well, she has, and it’s unforgiveable that we caused that. Have you even apologised for the last fuck up you made with him yet? That Caroline girl? And when you said he let you attack him, was that why he had bruising all over his face? Conner… Your friend, Conner? You know, right after you fucked all those other women?”
“Is this the telling off part?”
“Fuck off. You’re such an arsehole sometimes.”
“Yes, and I agree, but I still quite enjoy the telling off parts.”
“This isn’t funny. They’re hurting, Alex, because of you. I’m hurting because of you. Are you going to hurt Pascal, too? Because for that to have happened in there, I can only assume he’s told you he loves you, too. How did that happen? And are you really doing that collaring thing with him? Why?”
“We’ll go home if that’s what you want. You can talk to Belle and find a way to-”
“Why do you always do that? Deflect the conversation? Take some fucking responsibility for the pain you’ve caused, Alex, and just tell me the truth for God’s sa-”
“If you gave me a fucking chance to finish, you would have heard the rest,” he cuts in.
“What?”
“You can find a way to talk Belle into seeing me, and then I can explain my past. It might help her to understand.” I’m gaping at him, and he’s just standing there looking utterly beautiful as a slight shyness creeps across his eyes.
“You’d do that? You’d tell her about what happened to you?”
“For you, yes. If you think it’s what she needs to hear.”
“And Pascal? Conner?”
“Conner will be fine once he’s got Belle back. And Pascal is for a better time than this, preferably somewhere warmer. It will be a long conversation, and I’ll need a drink.”
Talk of the devil.
A very relaxed looking Pascal wanders casually down the steps from the door in his pristine white suit, looking every bit the royalty he is, and immediately glances down at my thighs, which are still holding the cane between them.
“Elizabeth, my rose, really? That is entirely disrespectful of my superior status within this tryst of ours, and hazardously attractive. You should not be so brainless around me with it.”
“What is your actual royal status?” It’s out of my mouth before I know it. His brow arches as he drags his eyes back upwards and goes to light a cigarette.
“Not so brainless after all. And if you must know, I no longer have one, my rose. I declined it some years ago now.”
“Declined? Why the hell would you decline it? Whatever it is?”
“For my brother. Fabrice was more worthy than I. It is something of a shame he no longer holds that accolade. However, I have no choice now, unless I kill him, which is still under consideration most of the time.”
“But-” Alex cuts me off.
“Elizabeth, now is not the time,” he says as he yanks the cane out from my legs and walks off down the road with it over his shoulder. “Pascal, are you relieved?”
“Mmm, quite thoroughly for now,” he says quietly as he offers his hand to me and nods at Alex. I take it and wonder where the hell we’re all going now.
“Pascal, are you coming home with us? What happens now, between the three of us, I mean?”
“Home? Hmm. I am unsure of his wants in this matter. We should define it after some nourishment. I find myself ravenous all of a sudden.”
“Where’s he going?”
“To the car, I assume.”
“And then where?”
“You ask a lot of him, my rose. Why do you not just follow sometimes and let him lead you? It is his strength, is it not? You should question him only when the moment requires it, when he is being... difficult. Enjoy the peace he gives your mind in the meantime. It is quite rewarding.” Peace? I stare over at him. Not much of that happening in there, if I’m honest.
“How are you at peace with him? He’s so bloody confusing,”
“Not to me. He is perfection, and you bewilder yourself, my dear, with your morals and standards, and your infuriating decency. There is no room for anything but him. Do you not see? You must concentrate entirely on him, feel him, and absorb him into you. That is how I remain at peace with him.”
“Bully for you.”
“Che cosa ha detto?” The foreign words roll out of his mouth like they’re second nature to him.
“What?”
“Italian for what? Do you not speak any other language? We shall correct that. Italian is a must, as is French. I am surprised he has not already taught you.” Well, he wouldn’t. It’s the language he uses to hide things from me. I need to learn it in secret. “Dutch will come in time,” he says, breaking my mini thought process.
“Is that the other language you speak? Dutch? You do that when you’re irritated, don’t you?”
“It is the mother tongue. We all revert to our roots when we are truly livid. Such anger requires no thought, only action. I rarely use it. There are only a few circumstances that condone such infuriation. You have been one of them.” Oh...
We arrive at the car, which, of course, is a limo, to find the door open and a very relaxed looking Alex lounging inside with a paper. You know, just checking out the bloody broadsheets like you do after you’ve just been in that place, and done those things. I roll my eyes at him as I slide in and make myself comfortable. Pascal gets in behind me and sits across from us, so I fiddle with my finger and try to dab the still weeping blood off it.
“Put it inside yourself, my rose,” he says. I lift my gaping mouth to see if I understood him correctly. He looks quite serious. “The blood, my dear. It will stop on contact with more palatable fluids. Is this not something everyone is aware of?” Alex chuckles and shuffles his paper about until he can grab hold of my finger as the car pulls away beneath us. I still have no idea where we’re going.
“What did you do?”
“Sliced it on your knife.”
“Hmm,” is the only reply I get as he pulls my finger to his mouth and sucks on it. It’s strangely erotic. Although if anyone in this car enjoyed the taste of blood, I would have assumed it would be the vampire sitting over there, not Alex.
“Were you a Count by any chance?” My own amusement at my Dracula reference has me giggling instantly as I stare over at him.
“I was, yes.” Hysterics ensue. I can’t believe the coincidence if I’m honest, and the perplexed look now plastered across his face only furthers my laughter. God, it feels good to laugh. When was the last time I did that, just laughed and relaxed?
“Why is this so amusing?” I’d reply if I could, but I can only sputter air in between my laughter. And Alex is now also looking at me with a bemused look on his face, having let go of my injured digit. I eventually find the wherewithal to collect myself and gaze ov
er at him, still with a smile and occasional giggle.
“Well?”
“I thought maybe you were a vampire. When we first met, you were all Edwardian, with long hair, and the club was such an eye opener. You know, chivalrous and devilish, snappy teeth, weird abilities to read minds and make me do things I didn’t want to do. I was only just beginning to get my head around him, and then you, well I couldn’t fathom you at all. That morning in the kitchen, when you…” I instantly cut myself off at the thought of what happened next. That dance was highly erotic and absolutely not allowed, I’m sure.
“When he what, Elizabeth?” Alex asks from my side, his tone cool, but I can hear his question, and it has nothing to do with what actually happened. It has more to do with whether I’m going to tell the truth, where my loyalty lies, so to speak. Pascal smirks, and I’m glad he finds it funny. I have no idea what to do.
“Umm...” It’s all I’ve got. I no longer have any clue as to whom I should be honest with. If I tell the truth, will Pascal get in trouble? Will I? I should lie, shouldn’t I? Make up some random other story. Think quick, Beth.
“I believe she is trying to protect me, Alexander. You had made it quite difficult for me to behave fittingly that morning with your antics the previous night. Her moaning and screaming had me quite dishevelled, and you allowed her to wander around half-naked in my company. It was unwise of you,” Pascal says as he pours himself a drink and holds up the decanter to Alex. Well, at least he was honest.
“You touched her?”
“Yes, it was glorious, quite enlightening,” he replies with no remorse whatsoever. This could get ugly. I shrink away into the seat and bite my finger. It’s the only thing I can do to break my own tension. Fucking stupid, stupid, stupid. I should keep my mouth closed, permanently.
“Why? I told you not to.”
“Alexander, look at her. You took her to my club in an almost transparent dress, with a cuff on, and those perfect collarbones on display for me. You chose that dress, didn’t you? Hmm? You knew where you were taking her and chose it anyway. Did you not think I would try my luck at some point? You should have seen her ferreting around in your cupboards, quite exquisite in her natural state,” he says as he fills a glass for Alex and passes it to me. “Hold that, my dear. He may beat me in a moment.” I snatch it off him and recede back to the safety of the seat. “I wanted to know how loyal she was, whether she could be turned, and I wanted to know what speciality she offered without you being there to guide her out of my appraisal. One dance was enough. She neither fought me nor accepted me. It was refreshingly fascinating.”
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