Seeing White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “All of the above, but mainly the gift,” he asks again with a chuckle.

  I pause for a long moment and look into his eyes, then realise I can’t hold onto that amount of connection with him so stare out at the skyline again. He’s far too intense. The man needs to relax, frankly, and regardless of his request for dinner, has he just played me to get me to come back to his office? For what exactly? A quickie? I think not. I need to get myself together. That incredibly well carved body and glorious face is distracting me from the fact that he is, of course, a complete arsehole who will eat me alive given half a chance. It’s completely inappropriate where that thought leads me to as I imagine being eaten alive.

  I turn back to him and raise my chin a little.

  “Alex, you’ve just implied that you sent me the bracelet so you could see me again.”

  “Yes.” Still he doesn’t move, just stands there looking glorious. He’s even undone the button on his jacket now and shoved his hand in his pocket, which is giving me a glimpse of his shirt against his skin. It’s completely unfair of him.

  “Did you think I would come back here to give you some sort of gift in return for your rather over the top gesture?” There’s not a bloody chance as long as I can keep him away from me. If I’m honest, it really wouldn’t take much at all - pathetic really.

  “I’m not sure what I thought, Elizabeth. I just wanted to see you again. You intrigued me,” he responds in a calculated manner, moving the glass to his beautiful mouth.

  “Why didn’t you just call me then and ask?” I narrow my eyes at him. He notices, smirks at me and then looks out of the window.

  “Because if I had, you would have been too flustered to answer, given your mousse incident, and then you wouldn’t have given me a chance to show you that I’m just a man who’s really very interested in you,” he says, bringing his eyes back to mine. “The gift was the quickest way to get you in front of me again.” At least he’s an honest arrogant shit.

  “Well, I would prefer it if you would refrain from sending such things in the future. And besides, you never know, I might have said yes if you’d just asked. I’m not very keen on someone presuming what I will or will not do.” I raise an eyebrow and take a sip of my very nice wine. I can’t believe I’m even thinking about flirting with him. This is not going to end well.

  “No, Elizabeth, you wouldn’t and you know it. Please don’t insult my intelligence. I’m far too good at reading people. I’ve made my career out of it,” he replies with a slightly agitated tone. He’s right again, but I still don’t like the fact that he’s played me so well.

  “So you thought the best thing to do was spend thousands on a piece of jewellery and then potentially incite irritation in me by presuming my reaction? Really, Alex, I’m not sure that’s the safest way to attract a potential date. Well, not a date, but you know what I mean.” I will stay in control of this. God, those eyes are so enthralling.

  “No, probably not, but you’re here so I won the first move, and I never said I was looking for something safe, Elizabeth. I haven’t played in a safe world for a very long time,” he says, taking a step forward. Player, definitely. I should leave, immediately and at speed. I don’t.

  We once again stare at each other for quite a while until I can’t hold it any longer and fold, looking to the floor nervously. He chuckles, and I wait for whatever’s coming next still feeling him watching, assessing me. Then he breaks our little silent bonding session or whatever it is we’re having. Confusion isn’t the word for what I’m feeling at the moment.

  “Did it feel good to stand up to me?” he asks.

  I look up to find an amused expression staring back at me. It’s too beautiful, confusing me even more, so hiding behind and looking across the top of my wine glass, I mumble a yes in response. His face lights up like a schoolboy who has been given a new challenge or toy of some sort. I’m not sure which. Probably both. Conceited bastard.

  “Good, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Those lips twitch again into a smirk as he lifts his glass to drink. “I am.”

  Once again I have no clue how to move this conversation along so I just gaze at him with a confused face and fall hopelessly into his eyes. His sudden frown throws me. I quirk my lips up into a smile in the hope of ridding his beautiful face of it. It works, and I feel myself fall a bit more as he takes another step and reaches a hand towards my cheek. It’s like a magnet drawing my face toward his fingers with no help from me at all. My feet move forward and his lips part to say something. I watch in anticipation as my body begins to hum with something like electricity, or maybe its random spasms. I don’t know. It’s a moment, though. A quite lovely moment.

  His phone abruptly rings and makes me jump back a step in shock. He pulls his hand away from me just as quickly and looks down at his watch, his frown returning again.

  “Louisa,” he barks then listens for a short while, never removing his frown from me.

  “Yes, apologise for me. I’d forgotten the time.” Suddenly his amused expression is back. I can’t keep up. He puts the phone back in his pocket and presses a button on the wall behind him.

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth but I have to go. I have an appointment that you have made me forget about. That is ... unusual for me.” He chuckles to himself and leads us back over to the kitchen again.

  “No, no, it’s fine. I should get going anyway,” I reply nervously.

  “I’ve called Andrews. He’ll take you wherever you need to go.” Who’s Andrews?

  “That’s fine really. I’ll get the tube. It’s no problem.”

  “No, you won’t. Please take the car,” he says, closing the distance between us.

  “Alex, lovely as that offer is, I would rather take the tube. I have some things to do.”

  I go to the counter for my bag, placing my wine glass down, and as I turn to grab my coat our hands collide. I quickly try to remove mine but he clasps on and turns me to face him. I drift to his eyes and feel that pull again, that heat inside me building effortlessly. He moves his other hand to my face and runs a thumb down my cheek. God knows why, but I find myself nuzzling into his hand involuntarily and relishing in the feel of him on me, as he gently brushes his thumb over my lips. My mouth parts as I watch something warm flicker in his icy eyes, drawing me closer again and readying me lips on mine, but he removes his hands abruptly and backs away a step.

  Shaking his head, he lifts my coat for me and helps me slip it on gently. It makes my confusion escalates so I grab my bag and turn for the hall, not knowing what I should be feeling as we head to the lift. It miraculously opens as I get closer so I step in and turn to wait for him, but he stands outside the doors and watches me.

  “If you’re still agreeable, I’ll be in touch regarding Saturday. Andrews will meet you in the lobby.”

  I nod, affirming that I am and smile a little. I’m still not entirely sure that I actually am, and given the last ten minutes I’ll probably be in deep shit if I do, so I’ll make that decision later. The man is far too ravishing for me to actually be able to think at the moment.

  “And by the way, you look incredible today. I’ve done nothing but smile since I saw you. You’ve been a breath of fresh air for me and I very much look forward to our date.”

  “Thank you,” I reply quietly as I smirk at his date comment.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he asks politely as he stands there looking absurdly attractive.

  “Of course. Anything,” I reply. I might not answer but he can ask, and frankly I’m still too busy with my wandering thoughts, which have once again lead me to his chest.

  “Actually, two if you don’t mind?” And now I’m mouth gazing. I lick my lips; I can’t help it.

  “Yes?” His lips curve into another wicked grin as he watches me watching him.

  “Do you find me attractive?” he asks. My eyes whip to his, utterly flustered. I don’t know where to look or what to say so I gaze firmly at the floor. It’s safe there, a
nd how does a girl answer that anyway? Of course I find him attractive. What bloody idiot wouldn’t? “Do you, Elizabeth?” he repeats. Good God, where did that sexy growl come from? My legs buckle beneath me.

  “Umm, yes,” I squeak as I lift my eyes a little.

  “Good,” he replies, scanning my body for a moment, as if he hasn’t done it enough in the last three quarters of an hour. Heat creeps up my cheeks at his blatant inspection of me. He quirks his head to the side, smiling devilishly. “And when I make you come, Elizabeth, will you tremble under my fingers? Will you beg for more?” I gasp audibly and take a step backwards, astounded at the comment.

  Before I get the chance to express any emotion other than the ridiculous panting that has suddenly started, he steps in toward me aggressively and backs me up into the corner. I gasp again as he leans his weight into me, planting his hands either side of me on the wall. He’s so close I can feel his skin against my cheek, his hips on mine, his breath against my ear. His spicy aftershave assaults me. Actually, his whole body assaults me as he pushes himself harder into me, now covering me completely and letting me feel exactly how solid his body is. He’s going to kiss me, and quite randomly, I feel like pleading with him to kiss me as I tilt my head into him, but as his lips move against my cheek, I only hear whispered words leave his mouth.

  “You don’t need to answer that. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough, Miss Scott,” he says, slowly releasing his weight from me inch by torturous inch. My body instantly screams from the loss as it watches him moving further away, buttoning his jacket and pulling at his cufflinks. I grab onto the handrail for support, still staring and trying to stand. “When the doors close, just say one.”

  I open my mouth to say something and then close it again, not sure what it is that I’m supposed to say to anything like that. I can’t even breathe, let alone think. What the hell was that about? My traitorous body is firmly convinced of exactly what has just transpired as it continues with its apt trembling and reminds me that he is absolutely right about my orgasms. And given that I have now trembled by only his movements near or on me, I can’t even begin to imagine what would happen if he actually tried to achieve something more than that. So of course my eyes move to his fingers without thinking as I try to keep my body from keeling over. He notices and raises a brow at me as I nervously flick my eyes away from him again, but the wicked smirk that forms over his delectable mouth pulls me back to his face again. I’m completely lost in him. Utterly immobile. Absolutely in lust and so wishing the bloody doors would close so I can escape the moment, or possibly revel in it on my own, but absolutely not with him watching.

  The elevator doors swish to a close as he continues to retreat backwards, still grinning at me like a cocky bastard and chuckling to himself like the God of all things evil.

  “One,” falls from my lips, as I exhale a breath and he disappears from view.

  I lean on the wall as the lift descends, trying to regain some composure and stop my legs from giving way beneath me. I’ve never felt so in shock in my life. I’m flustered. Probably bright red. And now I’m about to hit the lobby and meet whoever Andrews is. Clearly I don’t want to frighten him with my ridiculously distressed state, although it appears half an hour or so with Alex White is enough to distress any girl. What on earth just happened in there? Well at least I’ve given the bracelet back, which was the purpose of the visit in the first place, and I’ve sort of held my own in some extravagant game that Mr. White is playing. Thank God.

  The elevator stops and I reluctantly step out, instantly seeing Andrews. He’s the MI5 agent, come chauffeur that bought the gift to the shop in the first place.

  “Miss Scott, please follow me to the car,” he says with no emotion at all, still looking very MI5. I sweep my hair from my ruffled face in an attempt to look calm.

  “Mr. Andrews, I really don’t need the car. I can get the tube. It’s no trouble,” I reply, smiling sweetly.

  “Miss Scott, this is my job and Mr. White has requested that I do something for you. Please think nothing of it. Where can I take you?” he questions as he looks at me impassively.

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want to get you in any trouble. Back home would be great then, thank you, Mr. Andrews. The address is-”

  “Just call me Andrews, Miss Scott, and I am familiar with the address,” he cuts me off.

  “Oh. Right, okay then,” I reply, more puzzlement and confusion racking my nerves as I watch the back of his black suit and bald head walk off with military precision.

  We approach the revolving door and I see the car immediately. The sleek, black thing sits imposingly at the kerb, twinkling at me as Andrews opens the door. I climb in the back and try to get comfortable. Regardless of the luxury interior, it feels weird to me somehow. Probably because I’m simply not used to sitting in the back of anything. In fact, if he wasn’t quite so scary, I’d ask to sit up front with hm.

  As the car pulls away, my thoughts still linger on the man upstairs and my groin. I have never been so confused before in my life. What on earth have I gotten myself into? The world of Alexander White it, appears. The man’s a complete arsehole, a stupidly beautiful one, and actually quite a charming one in a roundabout way but still, he’s obviously a player of the greatest proportions. I am absolutely not going for dinner at his house. I’ll have no hope whatsoever of defending myself against him if alcohol is introduced, and my obvious idiotic behaviour around him is actually scary. My phone chirps at me, signalling a message, so I delve into my bag to find it and my lip-gloss. Staring at me is a very familiar blue box. How did that get in there? I put it on the counter, didn’t I? Frowning, I lift the bracelet from the box and look at its sparkling diamonds for a time while I grab my phone and look for the message. It’s from an unknown number so I swipe across it.

  Wear the bracelet for dinner. I want to see it wrapped around your wrist. AW

  I narrow my eyes.

  “Well, Mr. White, it appears you don’t take no for an answer,” I mumble to myself, wondering how he got my personal number. Funnily enough, it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. I have a feeling the man could probably get hold of anything he damn well pleased, and it seems that includes me at the moment. My body spasms at the thought, as more of those very inappropriate visions consume me, and I close my eyes to let them do their worst for a minute. They do, very suggestively, so I quickly open them back up again to stop the moment that he hovers above me while I try to level my breathing. Shit, no. Absolutely not.

  I promptly roll my eyes at myself. It’s a dismal attempt at no. Even I’ll admit that.

  What on earth am I thinking? I should have said no upstairs. A quick drop off was the plan. In fact, I should have simply given the bracelet to him before I even went upstairs, because I was so not prepared for him, or for any of these aftereffects that he’s left me with. I quickly irritate myself with my own response to his delectable body and his ability to control everything around him, myself obviously included in that deduction. I then incite myself further by his amusement of the situation I found myself in while he dictated every move. I have an awful lot to learn, especially given the fact that I am now actually contemplating going to dinner with him simply because my groin is telling me to. And who would ask that sort of direct question of a girl? Mr. White would, it seems. The man is obviously very wicked and way out of my league. I have no business even thinking about flirting with him. He is definitely going to eat me alive. I burst out laughing at the thought and squeeze my legs together, enjoying both sensations. Although, how the hell does Andrews know where I bloody live?

  I scowl at the man in the front as he winds his way expertly through London traffic in the direction of my apartment, his eyes coming back at me in the rear view mirror with a frown.

  Blowing out a long breath, I gaze out of the window.

  I really need to speak to the girls.

  Chapter 7

  Alexander

  H e
watched as Tate rammed his fist into Conner’s ribs repeatedly, causing him to cough. As he backed off, Conner rose to bring his head level again and was swiftly knocked to the floor by an uppercut to the chin. Alex smirked. The man might be smaller than the rest of them, but he was not to be underestimated. It was one of the main reasons he employed him, that and the fact that he was the best corporate lawyer he had ever witnessed in action.

  “Fuck, man, watch the face,” Conner sneered, rubbing at his jaw.

  “Come on, Tate, you know there’s no headshots,” Alex shouted over at his friend - well, his version of one anyway.

  “He’ll be able to pull it off. He’s normally brawling at some skanky dive anyway, fucking his way through yet another whore,” Tate replied, springing around the floor. Alex actually felt himself cringe at what was about to happen.

  “What the fuck? You little shit.”

  Conner ran at Tate and delivered a leg swing that landed him on his arse then threw a few brutal punches to the kidneys and lower back. Grunting in disgust, Conner pulled his huge frame upward and watched as Tate grabbed his side and rolled around the floor shouting in pain

  “Okay, okay, I think you two are done for a while,” Henry exclaimed as he slowly walked over and helped Tate from the floor. Alex clicked his neck as he gazed at the two of them.

  “Shit, man, what did you make me do that for? You know how pissed I get when you say crap like that,” Conner said, moving toward them.

  “I don’t know. Just a bit tense, I guess,” Tate spat, still riled.

  Alex watched as the pair sat down on the floor and patted each other on the back, both breathing hard. They’d been at it for a good twenty minutes.

  They’d been doing this for about a year or so, meeting at Ripkins Fighting Ring after hours. Alex had known Tony Davies for a long time, since the days when he wasn’t known just for being the owner of Ripkins. At that time, he’d been known for far more vicious pursuits than the legitimate boxing club owner he had now become. The man was a fucking monster in all reality, and although Alex found him amusing, he wasn’t the sort of man he ever dared turn his back on. Even now, at the age of fifty-five, he continued to have that demeanour about him that made men cower in fear. Thankfully, he owed Alex his life and therefore there was a mutual respect of sorts. Not that he’d saved him out of decency. He’d done it to manipulate a situation at the time and keep the favours coming when needed. Tony Davies was still paying for his existence, and as far as Alex was concerned, he always would be.