Feeling White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Am I ever anything but?” she replied, sarcasm dripping from her beautiful tongue.

  “Okay, how does Beth know Henry DeVille and why would she have been all over him at the Addison’s charity ball?” The phone went silent for a moment and he heard her shuffling about and closing some doors. “Belle, are you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. Beth just came in so I’ve gone into the bedroom. Why do you want to know about Henry?” she asked. He instantly sensed that she also knew Henry, which didn’t make him happy at all.

  “How is she?” he asked, trying to flip the image of Belle and Henry together away in his head. It was not a pretty picture.

  “A bloody mess - slobbing about and refusing to eat. I wouldn’t be surprised if she starts on the vodka soon and she hates the stuff.” Conner felt his stomach drop at the thought. She was far too lovely for any of this shit. “Now, why Henry?”

  “Just need to know.”

  “Okay, well if I must. I went to school with Sarah. They fell in love, got married and all that shit. Henry used to look after Beth at all the parties we went to. While Sarah and I were getting pissed and arsing around, he would get all protective and big brotherly over Beth. He was very sweet to her actually. I can’t see why she would be all over him though. She never fancied him or anything, and he certainly didn’t see her that way,” she replied quietly.

  “Right, well that’s good news. Has she seen him recently that you know of?” he asked cautiously.

  “No, we haven’t seen Henry or Sarah for a long time. I keep meaning to pop to Barrington’s but I just never get the chance. What’s all this about, Conner? Because frankly, I’m getting bored and I’ve got a distraught sister pacing about outside.”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I think there might have been a huge misunderstanding. Can you not say anything to Beth about this and definitely nothing to Henry or Sarah? I just need to get to Alex and get him to listen to me.”

  “If you think for one minute that he can fix this then you’re very much mistaken, Conner. I’m not letting him back here again. Misunderstanding or not, he is not fucking welcome, do you understand? I told you to go because you wanted to see that he was okay. That doesn’t mean that I give a shit if he’s alive or dead,” she seethed at him. He felt the venom pouring off her even from thousands of miles away and knew that she meant every word.

  “Belle, please don’t let a mistake ruin this for them. He just-”

  She cut him off. “He just makes a lot of bloody mistakes, doesn’t he? Huh? Tell me, Conner, what would you do? If this was the other way around, wouldn’t you want to kill him? He’s a fucking dickhead and I hate him,” she said, far too quietly for his liking, and he sensed her retreating from him.

  He felt his own inner turmoil building at her words. She was so right and he couldn’t find the fight in him to try and persuade her otherwise. Mr. White had royally fucked up this time and to make matters worse, he’d involved the best thing Conner had ever found.

  “Belle, I-”

  She cut him off again. “You what, Conner? You want me to accept that he’s only human, that he’s entitled to fuck up? Is that what you want from me? Because he’s your little fucking brother or something you want me to say it’s okay? Well it’s fucking not. Who the fuck does he think he is? He deserves to die for this shit and you should want to kill him for messing with her, and us.”

  “Jesus, Belle, I do want to kill him. I’m so fucking angry that I want to rip him to pieces. He’s potentially destroying the most amazing thing in my life and if I have to let him go to prove how much I love you then I will, but, baby, please don’t ask me to give up on him too quickly. He loves her. I know he does. I’ve never seen him so captivated, and she loves him, too. You know that. I can’t let you stand in the way of seeing them happy if I can make it right between them.”

  Utter silence greeted him from the other end of the call. Great, now he’d pissed her off even more. Minutes went by with him listening to her breathing. She hadn’t hung up. That was a good thing, right?

  “Conner,” she eventually said, almost nervously, which was unheard of for her. He felt his insides beginning to tremble with an odd sensation.

  “Yes, babe?” Fearing what was about to leave her mouth, he hung his head and reached for the bottle in front of him. If she said it now, he would fucking kill the man.

  “I can’t…” Silence again. It was fucking disturbing. He clenched his fist around the tumbler in his hand and waited for speech of some sort. Nothing happened so he swallowed and hesitantly tried to tease the words from her.

  “You can’t what, babe? Talk to me. I know this is awkward as fuck but I won’t let him ruin us. I promised you the world and I fucking meant it. You’ve got every inch of me, babe. It’s all for you but I have to fix this. Please, Belle, don’t make me turn my back on him.”

  More silence. The fucking dick better be worth this shit.

  “Just don’t let me down. I can’t be in love with someone who lets me down again. If you think you know what you’re doing then do it. I won’t stop you,” she eventually said. His heart leapt out of his chest so fast he dropped his drink into his lap. Did she just tell him she loved him?

  “Did you just say you love me?” he asked, desperate to clarify the point for himself. The shock of the words was just too much for him. She hesitated again. “Belle, say those words again.”

  “I’m trusting you, so please don’t fuck this up,” she replied as the phone went dead. Of course she wouldn’t say it again, would she?

  He blew out a breath at the thought and ran his fingers through his hair as the car slowed. She loved him. She fucking said it, maybe not twice, but the words did actually leave her lips. He felt a ridiculous smile break across his face instantly and laughed at himself as a warm fuzzy feeling crept around his insides, drowning the horribly ominous one that had previously been lingering. He rubbed at his chest and imagined her fingers there, actually everywhere. Smiling at his soaking wet dick area, he grabbed at some napkins to mop up the stain and chuckled. First woman to make him spill a drink, too... Jesus, that woman was a lot of firsts.

  The car pulled to a stop outside the infamous black building and he stared at the door, trying to pull every inch of his nasty demeanour to the forefront again. It was fucking harder than he thought. That warm, fuzzy feeling just kept circulating and making him smile again. This was not a place for warm fuzziness at all. This was not even a nice place - expensive, yes, full of the glamour that Manhattan necessitated definitely, but absolutely not somewhere for nice. This was hard kink. People were very ready for whatever they came in here for and revelled in it to the max. Nobody knew where the owner had come from but the fact was that she was into some pretty hard shit, pushed it and offered it with a class no other woman had ever managed. Roxanne was extraordinary in her own way, scary as fuck to boot, but absolutely in a class of her own. She probably knew the fucking goblin because he was just as bad.

  The driver coughed in front of him and brought his wandering mind back to the task at hand. Yes, he needed to rid himself of the warm fuzziness. He shook his head at himself. That shit really wasn’t going to help for what he was about to walk in on.

  ~

  Alexander

  Alex stirred slowly. Something was irritating him and dragging him from his sleep. Whatever it was, it was uncomfortable and actually quite bloody painful. Rolling over onto his side, he reached out a hand to find her, then the obvious reality hit him square in the face again. She wasn’t there, never would be again. He screwed up the sheet into his hand in frustration and immediately realised where the discomfort was coming from. His hand was screaming at him. He tightened it more and let the pain intensify. Anger coursed through his veins again and he let the comfortable numbing solitude sweep over him. The energy it took to control the rage was just too much for him to be bothered with, and considering he no longer needed to be a reasonable human being, he might as well start the day a
s he meant to go on. A drink, that’s what he needed.

  Opening his eyes a little, he pulled himself up and threw his legs to the floor heavily. The dull thud of wood made him widen his eyes. Where the fuck was he? He looked up at the wall of blue tinged-glass in front of him and sighed. Conner.

  The beautiful New York skyline was staring back in at him in all its glory and he felt another sigh leave him. He loved it here. He’d wanted to bring her here and show her everything. She would have adored it, all the tourist traps and the cafe culture. He could just see her now running around in her jeans, not the least bit bothered by the amount of make-up she put on her breathtaking face as she dragged him out through the door in search of excitement. Fuck, he missed her.

  Now he had to deal with Conner. He couldn’t actually remember him turning up yesterday but the fact that he was currently sitting in his spare room was a good indication that Conner was indeed in New York. He had no recollection of the day before, which meant he’d been either completely arseholed or off his face on coke. He scrunched up his nose and realised that he’d obviously just been alcohol-fuelled for this particular outing.

  Rubbing his hands through his hair, he was reminded of the pain in his right hand and dropped it in front of his face. All his knuckles were split open and the substantial bruising alerted him to the fact that he’d quite plainly hit something or someone. If it was someone, he’d hit them a lot. He shrugged to himself. He couldn’t fucking remember anything so they’d more than likely deserved whatever they got. Even if they didn’t, he couldn’t give a shit anyway.

  He walked over to the window and palmed the glass. The image of her naked in front of him was instant. He groaned at the thought and shook his head to try and rid himself of it immediately. She was just another whore, yet another let down regarding his damned emotions. Muttering and turning for the bathroom, he pondered why the bloody hell he was naked. Christ, he hated this not remembering thing. His complete lack of control disgusted him, but it did nothing to stop the fact that he wanted another drink. He also knew without a shadow of a doubt that Conner wasn’t going to allow it. Well fuck him, he’d just go back to his own apartment and find some there instead.

  Looking at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, he tried for the thousandth time to find some sort of explanation for her behaviour. There still wasn’t anything to condone her betrayal. She was just a bitch who’d connived her way in and destroyed all hope of the something more he was beginning to think of as a possibility. As if it ever would have been. He deserved fuck all of worth, not that she was even that anymore. He noticed varying shades of lipstick prints on his ribs and sneered in revulsion. Had he fucked someone last night? He couldn’t even remember that. If he had then it clearly wasn’t a memorable event, and besides, he had no reason to feel guilty about it if he did, so why the bloody hell he suddenly did was unreasonable to say the least. He brushed at the smudges of bright red in revulsion and pictured her lips glistening with lighter tones, her mouth parting to say his name. Whore.

  Scrubbing his hands across his face, the vague memory of Roxanne came to mind. Oh, Christ, he’d been to The Parlour. He chuckled to himself. Pascal would kill him if he found out, and of course he was bound to find out. The man had far too many connections for his own good. Fraternizing with Pascal’s enemies was always a stupid move but he’d find a way to douse the flames eventually. If he could find out what his fucking problem was with the woman it might help, but the bastard refused to speak about it. Whatever, it wasn’t his problem anyway.

  The shower, at least, was soothing to some degree and as he left the bathroom to find his clothes, he realised that he hadn’t noticed them anywhere. Well, he certainly hadn’t come back naked so they must be somewhere. He threw the sheets back, hoping that they would reveal his suit but it still didn’t materialise. The sudden memory of Conner doing this to him before leapt into his mind. Apparently it was one of the dick’s ingenious ways of keeping him housebound when nothing else worked.

  Fucking great.

  Aggravation at the thought of being holed up in this apartment with Conner poured across him, and at the same time, his own self-loathing reminded him of his own pathetic issues. Conner had an uncanny knack of reminding him of his inadequacies. He was the last person he needed to be around right now. He just wanted to go out and get shitfaced again. He had every right to be angry and he intended to vent it in any way he chose. At the moment, two thoughts were crossing his mind - women and drink. Conner could go screw himself because his big brotherly lecture was not going to work today. He hadn’t even got a clue what was going on. Well, he didn’t think he did. The fact that he couldn’t remember anything meant that he didn’t know if they’d spoken about it or not.

  Swiping at a towel, he tied it around his waist and turned for Conner’s room. He’d just take his fucking clothes instead because he wasn’t about to be kept here like a bloody prisoner. He twisted the door handle and found it locked. Wanker.

  Storming back up the corridor to the lounge area, he found the over-the-top space empty.

  “Conner, where the fuck are my clothes?” he shouted angrily as he approached the kitchen area. The sun glinting of the stainless steel surface made him blink and he raised a hand to shield his eyes. On dropping it away from his face, he noticed the arsehole’s back in front of the coffee machine.

  “There’s no booze here so I suggest you get your arse back to bed and sleep it off a bit longer,” Conner said quietly, still making his drink.

  “Fuck off. I don’t want to go back to sleep it off. I want my bloody clothes. I need to go out. I’ve got meetings planned.” He tried for the work thing, which actually made him think about work for a second and that led to Henry and his treachery. What the hell was he going to do about that? Why hadn’t Mark got back to him yet? Was it Monday yet? Jesus, what a bloody mess.

  “No, you don’t. I called Louisa. She rescheduled your meetings. You have a week off. Go back to bed, Alex,” the arsehole replied, still not turning around as he studiously pressed buttons on the machine. The rage began to boil again and he let it rise happily because for once, he refused to push it back down. Frankly, it felt too fucking good to try and switch it off. If Conner wanted a fight, he could damn well have one.

  “Conner, give me my fucking clothes. I have to go. I’m getting beyond pissed off and I don’t want to do anything I’ll regret,” he responded, hoping to God that his friend would take the hint. Slowly, the dick started to turn. He noticed the wince that left the arsehole’s mouth and frowned. He was moving too slowly for his liking so he continued to watch the movement that was happening in slow motion with a strange sense of dread looming.

  Conner eventually turned fully to face him. The sight almost made him sick. The entire left hand side of his face was a mess of black and purple, his nose had two strips of tape across it and his lip was cut open. He shuffled two steps forward, winced again and grabbed at his ribs in obvious agony while damn near collapsing to the floor. Lunging forward to grab him, he reached for his friend’s arm but Conner’s warning eyes bored into him.

  “Back the fuck off, man,” he seethed as he continued to glare viciously. Something was very bloody wrong here so he quickly stepped away and watched as Conner hauled himself back up to lean on the counter top. Minutes seemed to pass as he witnessed the clearly agonising movements of his friend trying to manoeuvre to a comfortable position until eventually he stood still and braced himself against the cupboard. “You know, I’m really fucking hoping you’ve already done something that you regret, Alex, because this shit really hurts, and if I let you do it for nothing then I’ll just get on my plane and go back home.”

  His brow furrowed as he began to understand the meaning of Conner’s words. He’d done this? Guilt consumed him in seconds as he staggered backwards to the chair and fell into it. Hanging his head, he grabbed at the back of his neck and tried to remember, anything to help him understand why the hell he would have do
ne this to his only true friend. Fuck, why? Nothing.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. What else was he supposed to say? He couldn’t even begin to fathom what the fuck had happened, but one thing was for sure: he’d apparently beaten the hell out of the only important person in his world and that was incomprehensible.

  “Are you?” Conner asked as he shuffled laboriously across to the other chair and slowly lowered himself into it. Alex’s head shot up.

  “Yes, of course I am. You know I wouldn’t do this on purpose. I just... I can’t remember anything about it.”

  “Actually, I don’t know, because I can’t remember much remorse when you did this to me,” Conner replied as he drank some of his coffee and sighed. More of those fucking uncomfortable minutes ticked by while Alex tried to recall information and looked at the floor, totally disgusted with himself. The thought of lifting his head to look at the damage he’d caused again was disturbing enough, let alone having to actually explain why the hell it had happened.

  “The keycard is in that draw. Go and get some of my clothes. I can’t have this conversation with you while your sodding cock’s looking at me. It’s fucking creepy.”

  His head shot up again and he stared at Conner for a moment in utter amazement. Even after a battering from him, the man was still trying to be funny? He certainly didn’t deserve any joking in this moment and he simply didn’t understand this apparent loyalty the man had for him.

  Conner watched him over the rim of his cup. There was no smile on his lips and it struck him how odd it was to see the man in a reflective mood. He was too quiet and too calm. It was making the heavy air of tension seem impossibly uncomfortable and he found himself wondering if this was Conner’s breaking point. He’d put his friend through a lot over the years. Maybe this was the end of the line. If it was, he deserved it. Never had he been so revolted by his own actions, and the thought of what could have happened scared the shit out of him.