“Loyalty? Grow up. He’s not a dog. He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have, and the most decent human being I have ever met, except for maybe your sister. You have no right to make him choose anything. Do you honestly believe the way to keep someone like Conner is to force him to make him choose who he cares for more? You talk about me being a control freak? Jesus, Belle, he loves you. Even with your tempestuous behaviour, maybe even because of it. You’d be a fool to let him go.”
“It’s nothing to do with you. Just take it away.”
He noted the resolution in her face and knocked back a shot of whiskey. In most circumstances like this he’d just find a way to force the correct response, make someone do what he wanted without them even knowing he’d achieved it. But the woman was potentially family, his angel’s sister, and his best friend’s fiancé. Truth was the only way forward.
“Belle, I need you,” he said, his throat constricting at the very thought as he stared at the floor. Christ, he hated this feeling – disadvantaged, desperate, dependant on someone else’s response to a situation to make everything morally fucking acceptable. His irrational, overbearing and irritating emotions were now drenched in distress and inward conflict. It was the very reason he’d never allowed anyone inside, so that no one had the ability to make him need them, physically or emotionally. So that he would never need anyone in return. But he did need Elizabeth, and therefore Belle. Fuck.
“What was that?” she said. He lifted his head and tried to stay calm. “Did you just say you needed me?” She looked a little shocked, was even frowning at him in confusion. He blew out a breath and looked back into his now empty whiskey glass.
“For whatever reason, you are right. She will choose me over you, but she’ll never forgive me for it, not truly, and I can’t have that in between us. We will all suffer if that’s the case, you included, and none of this will work out pleasantly. I love her, Belle, and I want her to want me entirely despite my flaws, but you’re preventing that. Your attitude towards me makes her uneasy, flighty, anxious even, and I refuse to allow that in her life, regardless of whether you’re right in your beliefs or not. She should be worshipped, adored, left to fly free with her dreams and aspirations. You shouldn’t tarnish her with your own past, just as I’m trying not to over-paint her with mine. She’s inspirational to me, a light to shine through the dark memories and help me find a future to be proud of, worthy of even.”
“Well, that’s all very sweet, but-”
“No, I haven’t finished. You need to be bloody honest with yourself because Conner is that for you, too, isn’t he? He gives you that solidity you need, that feeling that, no matter what you throw at him, he will always be there, ready to take more punishment just to show you that he loves you, will always love you, that he’ll stay and protect you. So you push him away, don’t you? You squash him down into a box and you put the lid back on, because that feeling of needing someone is so overpowering that you could kill it for even daring to enter your mind, couldn’t you? You destroy it before it gets a chance because it’s not worth the risk to your heart, is it? Not again? We are alike, Belle, and we may have had some similar experiences, but I’m not hiding from my chance of happiness. I’m going to fight for it and bow down to her, and no one’s going to stop me, Belle. You included. Take that how you like because I couldn’t give a shit what you think of me, but you should perhaps try the same, before it’s too late.”
He picked up the ring and looked at it. It really was stunning. Conner’s choice had been perfect. He considered what colour Elizabeth would need. This red suited Belle, suited her anger, her venom. His angel would need something less intense, more dreamlike, virginal even in a strange way, less corrupted. Marriage. He chuckled at the thought. He’d already given her his throat. She’d never need anything else to know he belonged to her, unless she wanted it of course.
“Quite a speech,” Belle said as she plucked the ring from his fingers and sank back into the sofa. “You’re very good at that, turning a conversation to suit yourself. Do you do that to her, too?” He smirked and shrugged his jacket on. She was one of the few people who refused to let him do it, unless it suited her purpose.
“She doesn’t let me anymore. She sees through it. So I’m honest, probably for the first time in my life, with the exception of Conner.”
“He does that to me too,” she mused softly, now playing with the ring and twiddling it around in her hand. He stood up. There was nothing more he could say. She was holding the ring and thinking about her future; that’s all he’d hoped for, and he wanted to get back to the woman who loved him.
“He’s had a lot of experience looking through bullshit,” he replied as he thought of their years together. He walked towards the door and placed his glass on the counter as he went by. “He loves you, Belle. You shouldn’t let anyone take that away from you, least of all someone in your past. And certainly not me.”
“Hmm.” He heard her mumbling as he opened the door. “Ask Beth to call me, will you?”
Beth… It still didn’t sound right to him. He mouthed the name and closed the door behind him. Bethy. Her mother called her that – Bethy. It was quaint, loving. How was she? He assumed they were still coming for Christmas, that Belle hadn’t put them off. He turned back to the door and knocked again. She answered it a few seconds later.
“Did you tell your parents Christmas was off?”
“Not yet. I was debating it when you arrived.”
“Then you’ll all be there?”
“Just ask Beth to call me. I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow. Maybe we can avoid a catastrophe somehow,” she replied as she closed the door again, with her left hand. The ring was on it.
Chapter 18
Elizabeth
I wish I knew the number entry code for the garage. If I did, I’d be able to get in one of the cars and slip out of here to see Belle before anyone got up. Alex is still sleeping. I have no idea what time he got in, but I know it must have been late because I was awake till 2.30 and he wasn’t home then. My other choices involve taxis or Andrews, and he can still stick a foot up his own backside as far as I’m concerned. I suppose I’m going to have to speak pleasantly to him at some point, but I’ll string the irritated behaviour along for as long as I can, just so he gets the point. I may have forgiven Alex for the strange kidnapping thing, but with Michael it just seems harder somehow. I wonder where he is. I haven’t seen him since we got back from New York. He just drove us home from the airport and then disappeared. Maybe he’s already left for Christmas.
I could just phone Belle, but it doesn’t seem enough. Having a chat about whatever occurred between she and Alex last night on a phone just seems inadequate, as if I should give it the same respect it would deserve if he’d been talking to me about his past. His past. We still need to talk about that. There’s no denying that what happened upstairs last night was illuminating and pulled us back together in a way we needed desperately, but I still need to understand why he’s a murderer and what happened to make him that way.
I’m fiddling with an ornate bowl of glass baubles that’s sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, reds, gold’s and greens, all the colours of Christmas daring me to have a good time, to enjoy myself and play with the ones I love. As if that’s going to happen now. He might have spoken to her, she may well have understood, but even if she does come over, everything is going to be awkward, isn’t it? We’re all going to be tense and uncomfortable. I might as well just cancel it and stop this pretence that we can make it alright. It’s not alright. None of it is all fucking right apart from Alex and I, just. Pascal is still going to be a conundrum until we get whatever this is moving forward; Conner and Belle are still not together as far as I’m aware; my mum still has cancer; Evelyn is still a complete unknown, and there’s also Henry and now Aiden Phillips to contend with. I should just be happy about life given my breakthrough in understanding Alex, but I just want to crawl into a hole until I can
at least sort one of these issues out. I need to feel useful, need to feel like I’m putting things right and making some positive decisions about my life again.
I need to bake my cake.
I’m up and clattering around the kitchen looking for utensils before I’m aware I’m doing it. Cooking will make everything better, won’t it? It will almost definitely make sure Belle and Conner get back together, and there’s the highest probability I can make Alex’s past just piss right off by whipping up some icing, isn’t there? Maybe a quick bashing of alcohol soaked fruit can show cancer what a pain in the arse it really is? For fuck’s sake, what am I doing? I need to get a sodding grip. Mixing bowl. I couldn’t care less how much of a prat I look. This is my way of bringing it all together again, of making everything happy in the world. Cook it, bake it, potentially thrash it, that one might actually work in some circumstances. My hand reaches for the butter just as a waft of a familiar scent comes into the kitchen. He’s really not what I need at the moment.
“Butter this time, my rose? I believe it was honey last time we were here. Hmm, slippery, we could use this for many delightful activities.” I’m actually waving a wooden spoon at him as I scowl at his amused indifference to my chaotic thoughts. Not that he knows what they are, but that’s not the point. Why is he always so relaxed? And why does he always look so damn perfect, with his pristine lines and effortless sophistication? He’s wearing an olive green suit this morning, beautifully fitted of course. Is it possible for him to be a mess?
“Sod off,” I eventually respond as I snap my face back to my cake. I will bake my cake. I can actually hear his brow rising behind me as his arms encircle my waist and pull me back towards him.
“Did he not fuck it out of you? I had assumed you would be more tranquil this morning, less troubled in your thoughts,” he says as his hand splays over my crotch. It’s a damn good job I’ve got skintight jeans on because I’m sure his hand would be inside them if they were looser. His other hand brushes my hair over my shoulder as his lips descend on my neck. They’re soft. In fact, he’s being soft. Why? My eyes narrow. “These bruises suit you, my dear, but why does this tension still consume you if he gave you all you need, hmm?”
Bruises? What does he mean by that? Oh shit, last night. Damn it. I knew it at the time. My eyes flick to the stainless steel splash back to see the damage but it’s not enough to get a clear sight of them so I try to move away from him. He just increases his hold until it’s more like his normal grip, heavenly frankly. That inner slut of mine wakes up instantly and begins the pathetic panting thing that’s only meant for Alex. I really need to just accept this as normal for both of them now.
“I want to see them,” I reply. It’s not that I’m scared of the thought. I can always cover them. It’s more that I actually want to see his collar on me, the real imprinted version. Not the diamonds that are still on the bedside table at my apartment, I mean the imprints of his hands around me, his hold over me and mine over him.
“Why?” he asks softly, still nuzzling around my neck and making all sorts of reactions collide within me. Are we allowed to do this now? Is this okay? What if Alex walks in? Oh god, I’m horny. What about my cake? Oh, and the bruises. I stiffen up and push back against him as hard as I can to try and move again. He just laughs, dirtily.
“Pascal, please, I need to see them, and this is not happening. I’m not even sure if this is allowed to happen. Are you?”
“What is not happening? We are not doing anything. I am simply showing you I care, like a lion would his pride,” he says as he gently releases me. Really? And what is all this gentle stuff about? I wander away from him and towards the hall mirror, tugging at my white shirt collar as I go. I have no idea why I didn’t notice this earlier.
“Why are you being so gentlemanly all of a sudden? It’s not normal. Stop it.”
“Because I told him to behave more appropriately around you.” Alex’s voice comes drifting down from above me as I finally reach the mirror. Behave? Well that’s a highly inappropriate word for either of them given the shades of purple that are dotted around my neck. It’s like a necklace really. In fact, as I gaze at the marks, I can’t help but wonder why I’ve never had any before. Was his grip that much firmer last night than it has been before? It didn’t feel it, but it must have been, or maybe I’m hardening up to his hands. He comes around behind me without touching me, and stares into the mirror. It’s his concerned face, the one he had last night when we left that small room. Not the one he had when he lied and told me everything was alright. I mean the one before that, when everything definitely wasn’t alright. He licks his lips as his calm blue eyes watch me watching him. He’s trying to gauge my reaction to these marks, in his own way trying to ask me if they’re okay, if I’m okay.
“I don’t think either of you should ever behave at all around me.” I don’t know where that came from. I’m positive I just wanted to think it but it just came out, fell from my lips as if destined to drop me in the shit. He smirks at me, those crippling eyes of his crinkling in amusement as he softly sweeps his hand over my throat and covers his own fingerprints. I can’t stop the reaction that erupts within me. The want is instant, and I could so easily fall into these hands so he can use me again. I cover his fingers with mine to let him know it’s alright, that I wanted it at the time, and that I’m happy with the result as his frown descends a little. This is him, and I asked for it, begged him for it, and he’s finally revealing it all to me. He stares for a moment more and then pulls his hand away and walks toward the study. I watch him leave and glide my eyes over the dark blue pinstripe suit that encases his form. It’s cut to perfection, just like the body it holds, and it’s clinging to all the right areas. Very appealing indeed. I so want him right now, so want to grab hold of that hair and prove to him that these marks are completely okay and that I need more of them, as soon as possible. Pascal follows him, which leaves me feeling a bit left out so I pop my head around the door to find them sitting opposite each other, very seriously. “Umm, last night?” I ask. He looks me over, and smiles, one of those dazzling ones that completely steals my breath away. I cling to the door for support as I watch those eyes sparkling to life again, not one bit of remorse there now. He’s so not thinking of Belle. Well, I hope he’s not.
“Do you need more?” Yes, clearly, but I’d also like to know about the current festive dining arrangements.
“Actually, I meant the thing with Belle.” Pascal turns to look at me with an astonished looked.
“Is your sister joining in also, my rose?”
“No,” Alex and I both say in unison as I gawp at Pascal. The thought is slightly worrying. I’m not even sure I’m comfortable introducing them to each other. That’s a point. I need to organise Pascal’s behaviour around that situation. She isn’t going to understand this set up at all, not that I really do either. At least he won’t be here for Christmas.
“She asked that you call her,” Alex says, stealing my gaze from Pascal. I turn back towards him and find him leaning on the desk, his fingers steepled on his lips as he watches me carefully.
“What did you say?” I ask, somewhat hesitantly. If she knows he’s killed people for a living in his past, it is not going to go down well at all.
“What was needed,” he replies. That’s it apparently. A very serious frown is all I get to help me out with that statement. Helpful. Right, well I better get going then, and see my sister.
Within ten minutes, I’ve managed to organise myself, done some covering of my throat and applied an acceptable amount of make-up to make me look semi presentable. Although the ridiculously expensive beige silk scarf and fedora hat combination that I’ve got going on probably lets the whole world know where I shop, or rather where Alex shops. I find my way back into the kitchen and realise I still haven’t baked my cake. I must do that later, but first I need to talk to Belle and get Alex a present of some sort.
“What’s the garage code?” I call as I throw
my leather jacket on and grab the Aston keys off the table.
“Why?” he replies. “You’re not going anywhere. I have plans for you today,” he says as he rounds the corner and comes down the hallway towards me. I bet he does, and I’m more than willing. That point is clearly made by my buckling knees, as he owns me with every damn step. But I have no bloody present for Christmas Day, and good as that suit and the man in it is, I have to get out to find something for him. Actually, why is he in a suit? Where’s he going?
“I have Christmas shopping to do, and I want some privacy to talk to Belle. Why are you in a suit?”
“I have some business to attend to. You’re still not going out.” Really? Both my hands have found my hips because he’s got that look going on that I’m not at all fond of. And what business anyway? It’s Christmas Eve for God’s sake?
“I thought you had plans for me.”
“I do. I plan to tie you to the dining room table, half fuck you, use one of your choices of butt plug, and then gag you until I get back. I was considering leaving Pascal in charge of you while I’m gone, but I’m not sure he’ll understand your signals, yet.” Well, that was honest. Very honest. And I’m pretty sure my gaping mouth proves my utter surprise at the statement.
“Oh…” Not surprisingly, that’s all that comes out as I watch the upward curl of his lips. There’s no other movement. He’s completely still. It’s absolutely possible he might just pounce any minute and give me no choice in the matter.
“I thought it might make for interesting Christmas lunch conversation.” He’s sodding right there. I try to hide my smile and keep up the pretence that I’m being firm, but frankly, what’s the point? Those dazzling blues and sinful smirk have me thinking all sorts of interesting things. I take a step backwards in the hope of evading capture – ridiculous, I know. His smile broadens.
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