Seeing White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Please excuse me while I go and change. I won’t be long so have another glass of wine.” He left the room, which filled with laughter the moment he was through the door.

  “It’s a shame really. It appears you just can’t find a pretty one that isn’t completely inept at everything else,” he heard Bill say and then snigger. The room erupted in laughter and agreement again, which was completely fucking unacceptable. He abruptly turned and stalked back into the room, rage welling up inside him for some unknown reason.

  “Bill, did you not enjoy your meal?”

  “Excuse me, Alexander?”

  “I asked if you enjoyed your food.”

  “Yes, I did, very much. It was exquisite actually.”

  “Then perhaps you should have the decency to be thankful to the chef that created it for you. I am not sure why she was here, but Elizabeth Scott is the chef. Her food was exemplary and the service was perfect apart from the accident, which I’m pretty sure you didn’t suffer from. So I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself and check your information before you jump the gun on someone’s abilities.” Alex fumed with a cold calculation. He had no fucking idea what the hell he was doing, but he couldn’t stop it.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Bill stuttered, looking at Alex with a shocked expression.

  “No, you often don’t. That’s probably why when I bought your last company, which you’d failed, and tripled its profits in the first year, I couldn’t help but laugh at your fucking ineptitude. But then I had the right to do so. So please, if you want to remain in this room for future gatherings, keep your bloody assumptions to yourself.”

  At that, Alex left. Again.

  What the hell had happened in there? What was he thinking talking to Bill Armstrong like that? Not only did he need Bill, he was also very closely aligned to a huge deal he’d been working on. He just couldn’t stop the rage that forced its way through him. He normally had such control of it. He’d learned through various ways to keep a tight rein on his anger, but Christ, the fucking nerve of the man had completely thrown him. He walked swiftly toward the elevator that would take him to his apartment on the upper level, trying to calm himself down and analyse his own stupidity.

  As he dropped his card on the entrance table, he smiled at the smell of strawberry mousse wafting up towards him. She’d been inches from his cock, and however absurd the situation had been, he couldn’t help but be aroused. When he’d looked at her on her knees looking up at him, he’d instantly been hard and would have given the other guys anything they wanted just to get out of the room so he could have her on the boardroom table. Or the floor. Frankly any surface would have been acceptable in that moment. Her striking eyes had been almost tear filled and begging for forgiveness as her mouth searched for the right thing to say, and her lips trembled beautifully. He couldn’t help but smile at her and interestingly, he’d wanted to - not out of amusement but out of kindness or compassion or some other emotion he wasn’t aware he owned. Maybe it was to try and ease her embarrassment, which was in itself enlightening because he’d normally enjoy the sight of humiliation with relish. But she’d had nothing to feel remorseful about. In fact she had been simply wonderful and the room had been filled with some sort of warmth that he hadn’t ever been aware of before.

  He wasn’t sure why she’d been there. She certainly wasn’t expected. He’d been told that her sister ran the show so he’d assumed she would be on point today. He’d been so shocked to see her, he’d almost tripped over his own words when he first noticed her, which was so confusing it had taken a moment to realise what was happening. Stunning was the only word that he could think of at the time as he’d gazed into her eyes. That’s what he was - stunned. She’d looked less carefree and more businesslike, with her hair in a chignon and the dark blue knee length suit, but it was still sexy as hell. So he’d continued staring at her, not knowing what to say.

  Realising that a lack of articulation had never happened to him before, he tried to formulate something to say. Nothing had come to mind as his heart raced and his fingers itched to reach out for her and pull her closer, or maybe just throw her over his shoulder and fuck the life out of her. Time simply seemed to stall for the few seconds they looked at each other. Her chocolate brown eyes bore into him for the first time and he felt his throat tighten, so much so that he’d had to move his eyes from hers for a second before she saw it all. But as his gaze had returned upward, her sublime lips had trembled in front of him, showing her apprehension. She’d simply held her head as high as her nerves would allow and then she’d called him sir. Christ, his balls had coiled so tight he thought he’d explode just looking at her.

  As he changed into a clean suit, he found himself still smiling and thanking God for Conner’s soft side. Yes he’d given him a good talking to, but he had eventually relented and given him Belle Scott’s number. He’d received several stern words from Conner in his time but not many had come close to the severe berating he’d received about treating the Scott girls with the respect they deserved and keeping the hell away from Belle. The man was concerned that he would taint her as well. Unfortunately, he’d deserved every mouthful of venom that left his friend’s mouth. Not that Conner was aware of it, but his past sins still haunted his life occasionally.

  He buckled his belt and pondered what it was about her that was making him want to be just a bit better, or maybe even decent. Fuck knows what it was, but he hoped he could be because he sure as hell was going to have her, and soon. Where it went from there he didn’t know, but for the first time in his life he felt something more than pain. He didn’t know why or how she was able to do this to him but he did know she was making him smile and feel an sense of tension for some reason. Maybe it was the challenge of someone so innocent; maybe it was the thought of someone real and not another insipid whore; or maybe it was just her and those damned consuming eyes she possessed.

  His phone vibrated on the table in front of him, pulling him from his fucking odd little daydream so he swiped it up and read the text.

  I have two new ones, dear boy. Do come and play. I am thoroughly bored without you.

  Mmm, tempting. But given his last half hour, the thought was, quite bizarrely, a little dull. Having said that, his cock was definitely in need of some attention because that woman’s very appealing body had thrown all sorts of fucking visions at him during the meeting. In fact, he might as well not have been in the damn room for all the work he’d actually completed.

  He pulled on his jacket and walked back towards the hall. Stopping briefly in the kitchen, he ran his fingers over the portrait of the boy in the rain and gazed at the small child’s huddled position, his knees pulled up to his chest in fear as the storm raged on around him. He drew his finger along the tiny shadowed figure in the background and sneered as his throat tightened again. It appeared that regardless of the reasons why, Miss Scott seemed to have the ability to make him uneasy, slightly uncomfortable even, and while it was exceptionally stimulating to some degree, both of those were emotions he had long since fucking buried. Deep down, where they could damn well stay. He shook his head and carried on down the hall. He needed to get his control back around her and quickly at that. No woman would want to see the part of him he kept so well suppressed and he wasn’t about to let Elizabeth Scott see his flaws or know the depth of his sins any time soon. A woman like her needed to see Alexander White, to experience the performance, and so he decided that Alexander White was exactly who she would get.

  Chapter 6

  Elizabeth

  “A re you telling me that you threw strawberry fucking mousse over the most high profile client we’ve had to date?” Belle screams at me from the other side of the room, her eyes apparently having transformed into daggers.

  “Yes,” I reply as I sit with my head lowered at the kitchen table, trying to think up a decent enough excuse for my stupidity. There still isn’t one.

  “All you had to do was serve a fucking meal
, Beth. Jesus. One fucking meal. I can’t believe you screwed this up,” she continues, walking around furiously, hands waving about as she mutters to herself.

  I simply stare at the floor, wishing she’d calm down and give me a break but she has a right to be furious and all I can do is sit here and take it.

  When I ran to the taxi the day before, I cried all the way to the apartment. I refused to go back to work and ignored the twenty missed calls I received from Belle because I just couldn’t face it, or in reality, face her. When she returned later in the evening and asked how it had gone my reply was fine. It was the best I could come up with at the time, and then I lied that I had a terrible migraine and that I just needed to get to bed and rest. She was clearly not convinced and tried to obtain more information but I just blagged my way through it and went to bed anyway. I knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid it the following morning, but at the time, I didn’t care, so now here I sit.

  “Belle, I’m so sorry. I just tripped. It could have happened to anyone,” I try to protest. She cuts me off with such ferocity I actually shake a little.

  “No, Beth, it wouldn’t have happened to anyone. It would only happen to you. You’re fucking ridiculous. I cannot believe this shit,” she erupts at me as she paces some more, very nearly snorting with disgust at my obvious uselessness. She’s right... I am a complete idiot.

  “Belle, please, I am completely aware of my own incompetence. I don’t need you feeding my subconscious any more than I do on my own.” I can feel the tears pricking and unable to hold the flood back, I begin with more crying, as if I didn’t do enough of that last night.

  “Don’t start that snivelling shit either. I’ve had enough of it. Why do you think tears are going to somehow make it better? Fucking hell,” Belle says as she sighs and sits down across from me then bangs her head on the table repeatedly until she stops and leaves it there.

  “I’m so sorry,” I splutter through my sobs.

  We sit in silence for several minutes as I continue to stare at the floor and try to contain my ridiculous crying fit. I can feel her wrath directed at me even though she’s still face down on the table. Her muttering and occasional head bangs still warn me to keep my mouth closed, so I nibble at my nails and hope for the best.

  “On his dick?” she eventually mumbles.

  “What?” My head shoots up as she lifts her head slightly to look at me. Her chin is still connected to the surface and her eyes still dangerously narrowed at me.

  “The mousse, was it on his dick, in his lap?” she asks again with no smile whatsoever.

  “Yes,” I reply, lifting my lips just slightly. She chuckles a little as she sits herself upright.

  “Well, I suppose you at least fuck up in style.”

  “Oh, Belle, everything else was perfect. You would have been so proud. Honestly. There were positive comments and they were all very happy. I’m sure we won’t lose the contract because of my mistake. I could always try to talk to him again and make it all right. I offered to do his dry cleaning and he seemed okay with that.” I’m rambling again. Belle looks at me with a flurry of affection and strokes my hair soothingly, which just makes me feel worse.

  “It’s okay, honey. You tried your hardest. I know that, but I’m afraid with a man like Alexander White, there is only one chance and we just blew it,” she states, shaking her head in resignation and getting up.

  I watch Belle leave the room and then just stare at the closed door to her bedroom, knowing that I have just blown everything we’ve worked so hard for. Seriously, what is the bloody point? Of course the tears start again and I hold my head in my hands, mainly to stop it from exploding.

  Twenty minutes later, Belle reappears in the kitchen.

  “What are you just sitting there for? We need to get to work,” she says in a strangely calm manner given the last half an hour, as she picks up her bag.

  “Well, I thought I might just stay here. I’ve nothing pressing there and I can pick it up tomorrow. I’ll just go in early,” I reply blankly. I’m really in no mood for it whatsoever.

  “Oh no you don’t. You are not going to sit here moping around all bloody day. We’ve got work to do. It’ll take some doing but we’ll just have to find another client. If I can get one in the next few days, hopefully the grapevine won’t have already spoken about our little faux pas,” she says with her don’t mess with me tone.

  “Okay,” I say as I get up. While her response is unexpected, I’m seriously not going to wind her up any further, but I really did think there would be more sisterly chats about this. She gives me a squeeze as I grab my coat.

  “Seriously, honey, we’ll just move on together,” she says with a smile.

  ~

  We’ve been in the shop for three hours. Belle’s working hard on the phone and I’m trying to put the incident behind me and move on, as she suggested. So, I’m working on a set of new pastries that a colleague has suggested. Thankfully they’re going well. The kitchen is soothing my spirits back to some sort of normality and seems to be helping relax my mood, but undoubtedly the strain is showing.

  “Beth, get yourself out here,” Teresa shouts from the front of the shop. She’s mad at me as well. The fact that I pay her wages seems to have gone unnoticed for some reason.

  Now what have I done?

  As I round the corner, I’m confronted by a very tall man wearing a chauffeur’s uniform. He doesn’t have a hint of a smile to comfort me in any way. Slightly scary, frankly.

  “Are you Miss Scott?” large man asks. I’m unsure whether to say yes or not as I narrow my eyes at him. Eventually I relent.

  “Umm, yes,” I respond quietly as Belle emerges from the office to stand behind me.

  “I have been asked to deliver this to you personally,” he says, and with that, he hands over a flat, rectangular, blue box.

  “Are you sure you have the right address? I am not expecting anything,” I reply, eyeing the box with confusion.

  “You are Miss Elizabeth Scott?” he asks again, more sternly this time, with an accusing stare. He reminds me of some MI5 agent or something.

  “Yes, but-”

  “Then this is for you, Miss Scott. Please enjoy your afternoon. Goodbye.” He turns and the doorbell chimes as he leaves the shop without another word.

  “Thank you,” I shout after him. I don’t know why I bother because he’s already gone, probably on another covert operation of some sort. We all look at each other with perplexed expressions, then at the box, then at each other again.

  “You know where that’s from, don’t you?” Teresa whispers. “Tiffany’s,” she says as she jumps up and down with glee.

  “Who do you know that would get you something from Tiffany’s?” Belle asks, looking shocked.

  “I… I don’t know,” I stutter. Clearly this is a mistake.

  “Well open it then,” Teresa screams at me.

  I flinch at sound in my ear and look at the box, starting to open the beautifully tied bow and reach for the clasp. I openly gasp as I see the twinkle of diamonds beneath the card that has been placed inside. My left hand shoots to my heart and my fingers fumble with the card. It falls to the floor so I retrieve it and gaze down at the words.

  Thank you for adding some sparkle to an otherwise very dull meeting. I thought you might like some sparkle of your own this morning.

  AW

  I slowly look back at the box to see the most stunning bracelet I have ever seen. It’s vintage in style with a continuous treble row of diamonds separated by four vertical baguette-cut linking stones that gleam in the bright shop lights. The clasp in itself is a work of art and its deco appearance screams of an elegance and timelessness that has no business being in my presence at all. I stare at it some more, not really knowing what to say as Teresa snatches the card out of my hand.

  “Does AW mean who I think it means?” she asks as she stares at me. She’s clearly as confused as I am but I really can’t think of anyone else I know with those in
itials, let alone someone who could afford something like this.

  “What?” Belle grabs at the card and scans it herself.

  “Beth, what the hell did you do to him? If I’d known throwing food all over a man would get me a bracelet from Tiffany’s I’d have done it myself,” she says, a small giggle escaping from her mouth.

  I just continue to gape at it, as do they. What am I supposed to say to something like this?

  “Try it on. Try it on,” Teresa excitedly urges.

  Slowly removing the bracelet from its box, I undo the clasp. Belle reaches forward and gently hooks it around my wrist. I’m not only shaking from the sublime beauty of the piece but also the fact that I have thousands of pounds worth of diamonds wrapped around me. Still, regardless of the cost, I can’t help but continue gazing down at it as I twist and turn my wrist. It’s simply too stunning to not look at and I take the card back from Belle to study it again. The beautifully hand-written note is on thick, white embossed card that has his name and a mobile phone number on the back. Why would Alexander White send a diamond bracelet and a personal phone number to me?

  “Well, someone made a good impression yesterday. I thought you said you’d fucked it up?” Teresa says, grabbin my wrist for closer examination.

  “Yes, we shall have to send you to all the new clients.” Belle smiles as she stares at the bracelet.

  “Well, beautiful as it is, it will have to be returned. I can’t possibly accept it. I did nothing to deserve it and even if I had, it would still be too much,” I say, removing the bracelet and placing it back in its box carefully.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s from Tiffany’s, and he clearly wants you to have it for some reason,” Teresa says in surprise.

  “Well, he might have meant well but it’s almost certainly worth more than I make in a year and it just doesn’t feel right. I’m sorry, ladies. Take another look if you like but when you’ve finished, could you put it in the safe. I’ll take it back tomorrow,” I reply, leaving the box on the counter and wandering out of the room.