“You do?”
“Of course I do, you dick. I’ve probably known longer than you have. You’ve been all smiley and shit.” Alex pondered the ridiculous smiling shit. Conner was right. He’d never been a smiley and shit person. There had never been anyone to be smiley for.
But there was now, and he’d be happy to continue with that if she’d give him a chance to prove it. How he was going to take her forward into his life and explain all the crap in his past was unfathomable, but if she’d have him he’d try. That’s what he’d promised her on that podium, wasn’t it? That he’d try, that he’d give her everything and try to be a better man. She needed that because Elizabeth Scott was the kindest, loveliest creature on the planet, his angel, his reason for waking up and believing in something more.
“Do you think she’ll have me back?”
“I don’t know. Let’s hope she thinks you’re worth it,” Conner replied as he lifted his gaze, shrugged his shoulders and started to draw rings around the numbers in front of him like a mad man.
Alex watched for a minute, trying to calculate his own worthiness. He wasn’t worth shit and the man sitting before him was prime proof of that. How was he even going to try and say sorry for this?
He turned back to the bagels and sneered at his own pathetic behaviour. His fucking bastard of a father would be loving this. His eye caught Conner throwing the pen down in agitation so he looked back at him for whatever was coming next.
“Alex, if I think I’m going to lose Belle because of this, you’re gonna be on your own. I’ll be done, you understand me? I can’t let this shit screw up what I have with her.”
Fuck.
“Yeah, I know.”
He did. If he didn’t deserve another chance with his angel then so be it. He wouldn’t let Conner’s world fall apart, too.
Chapter 2
Elizabeth
“B eth, can you come in here a minute?” Belle calls from the office.
Quite frankly, no. The only two places that I am presently even vaguely comfortable with are my kitchen and my bed. The thought of talking business or discussing anything other than the temperature that I need to cook my beef at is of no interest to me whatsoever, so I hurry around the cooker, trying to turn the meat and sort the vegetables at the same time. If I ignore her, perhaps she’ll sort it out by herself.
Nearly one whole week has passed since the most distressing and heartbreaking moment of my life, and still I can’t think of anything else other than that sodding note and his intense blue eyes. They haunt everything. I can’t sleep, eating is becoming a serious issue for me and just managing to get myself up in the morning is a feat in itself. If I wasn’t so important to my own business, I would continue to lie in that bed constantly. It’s warm in there, cozy, sometimes even a little tranquil. I’ve always wondered why people curl up into the foetal position when they felt threatened or unhappy. Now I know, because it’s the only position that gives me any sense of peace or comfort. Every night since that day, I’ve crawled into my bed and scrunched up the pillow into my chest, refusing to acknowledge his bow tie that I threw in the bin the day before as I cried, and yet every morning I wake up with the damn thing grasped in my hand again.
The last place I want to be is here, and to be honest, as good as Belle and Teresa are being about the whole thing, I just don’t want either of them near me. I can’t cope with their constant looks of sadness at my misfortune. Belle is becoming bloody absurd. Never in her life has she been so sweet to me and it really is starting to make me feel like some sort of pariah.
This can’t go on any longer. I have to find a way out of the fog. He is a shit. It’s as simple as that and I can’t let him ruin the rest of my life. I’m not stupid, not one of those silly girls that thinks their life is over. I know I’ll get over this eventually, but in the meantime, I just need to find a distraction, something to take my mind off the constant craving for his stupidly gorgeous face and those consuming eyes. I’ve tried everything… Actually, I haven’t tried anything other than sitting on my arse and wallowing in my own self-pity, but I just miss him so much. I could never have imagined that I could miss someone to the point of it physically hurting me, because that’s how it feels, like someone is repeatedly hammering a stake into my heart, and then when they’ve finished they just rip the whole thing out and leave the hole gaping open, bleeding. He is so completely inside me that I feel like my right arm has been ripped off and now I can’t function properly, his body seemingly still wrapping itself around me even though he’s no longer here. I can still hear his thoughts and I swear the hairs on the back of my neck can still sense him, regardless of the distance between us.
I was a mess. I am still a bloody mess, but now I’m starting to get angry at my own mess. How could he do this to me? And how the hell could I let him?
“Beth, really, I need you in here,” Belle shouts again at me. I huff out a breath and walk across to the office.
“What do you need?” I ask as I round the corner. I can feel the irritation in my own voice and try for a smile, not achieving it in the slightest. I don’t know why I bothered.
“I wanted to know what you were going to do for the Orangry dinner party. I’m just writing up the menus,” she says as she gives me that false, sugary smile that has started to become a permanent fixture on her face. It’s bloody ridiculous and doesn’t suit her in the least.
I instantly turn, walk back to the kitchen, grab my folder and return to the office. Thumbing through the pages, I find the appropriate section and remove the menu sheet I prepared a while ago. I actually did it the day of the fire and it leads me straight back to images of the evening that followed. So obviously I quickly screw my eyes shut and try desperately to dismiss the visions of the two of them laughing at the dining table and then playing chess. Alex. God, he was beautiful that night, the way his face softened to that slightly calmed level and the feeling of his hair in my fingers as he told me to give him everything I had. His darkened blue depths had prised the last of my defences away in that moment. Bastard. Stop it, Beth!
“Can I have that then?” Belle’s voice pulls me back from my daydream, or nightmare. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to call it anymore.
“Yes, sorry, yes. Here it is,” I reply as I hand it to her awkwardly.
“Were you thinking about him again?” she asks quietly.
“Yes, no, actually I was thinking about both of them. You know the evening after the fire. That’s the day I wrote the menu.”
“Oh, right, yes, I never did get the pleasure of Pascal. Frankly, I wish I had. He sounded completely intriguing,” she says with a very dirty laugh. It’s the first time I’ve seen her laugh in the last week and it makes me smile. She’s been so busy trying to be pleasant and sweet that she’s stopped being the big sister I’m used to, the sister I need.
“I need you to stop, Belle. I can’t take your niceness anymore. I have to get back to normal and I need you to help me do it,” I say without thinking about it at all. She stares at me for a while as if trying to make up her mind how she’s going to respond. Eventually, she opens her desk draw and pulls out a bottle of vodka and two glasses. Pouring two really quite large shots, she hands one over to me and downs hers, indicating that I should do the same. I do. It still tastes revolting. Why on earth she likes the stuff is beyond me.
“Good, right well, if the slobbing around and feeling sorry for yourself shit is finished with, I suggest you get your act together and start to think about getting out there again, because seriously, he is such a tosser and really not worth your time at all. Do you still have Pascal’s card?” she asks. My eyes shoot to hers in surprise. Where the hell did that come from?
“What? You have to be kidding me. You think seeing him will make me feel better somehow?” I pretty much shout at her. The thought of seeing any man is disturbing enough, let alone one that’s as troublesome as Pascal.
“Yes, I do. I think that someone making you feel beaut
iful and wanted again is exactly what you need. And you did say he was ridiculously cute,” she replies as that wicked grin returns.
“I don’t think I said he was cute, Belle. Cute is most definitely not a word I would use to describe Pascal Van Der Braak,” I reply as I remember his hands on my waist and his groin against me in the kitchen as we danced.
“Ooh neither would I. The man’s completely gorgeous. I only got to meet him once but it was a flash of heaven before me. I’ve never been into dangerous types myself but there was definitely a part of me that was drawn to him, something about the way he just mesmerised me.” We both swing our heads at Teresa as she hovers in the doorway. “Drinking. are we? Where’s mine?”
“You know him?” I question, unable to understand why she would have ever met him, albeit completely understanding her statement.
“Well, no, but I was at his club once a few years ago with a friend of the same persuasion, and you know how I’ll try anything once,” she says as she reaches for the vodka and takes a shot out of the bottle.
“What are you talking about?” Belle asks in obvious confusion. I cringe at the thought of what she will think of my new-found lifestyle choice. I’ve never gone into great detail about what Alex introduced me to and how much I enjoyed it.
“You know, BDSM and kink and stuff. Some of it was actually very entertaining. I kept the handcuffs. I wasn’t enthralled with the spanking part of it, though. Never really was one for pain,” Teresa replies. Belle’s eyebrows rise as she looks over at me with a new expression. I think it’s utter shock.
“Have you turned into a kinky bitch? And why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me about this?” she says as she pours another shot for us. I hang my head a little, although why I feel embarrassed is a mystery to me. I suddenly remember Alex… Head up unless I tell you not to. I pull it back up and smile privately at the memory. Dickhead. I hate him.
“I didn’t know what to say about any of it. Frankly, I was just starting to get my head around it when it was over. It didn’t seem worth mentioning by then,” I reply as I down another shot. It tastes better this time. It’s clearly a grower.
“Right, well, you have to call him then. He sounds absurdly naughty and exactly what you need to get over the arsehole.”
“Oh my god, did he give you his card? He doesn’t do that like ever. He’s renowned for it - very particular in his choices so I hear.” Teresa giggles at the side of me. “You have to call him. It will do you no end of good.”
“Really?” I look at them in complete astonishment. Is this really the smartest move? It certainly doesn’t feel like it to me if I’m honest.
“Absolutely,” they both chime in together. Shit.
“Honey, we just can’t watch you like this anymore, and if a night of Pascal will make you smile again then you should get straight on with it,” Belle says from the other side of her desk, her feet now propped up on the top. Smile… Yes, Pascal could probably make me smile, more than likely nervously, but even the thought of him brings my lips up into a curve.
“Right, okay,” I reply slowly as I think of Alex. He’ll find out about it, won’t he? And it will more than likely send him completely of the rails. Not because he gives a shit about me but just because he doesn’t like to share. Or maybe he won’t care less? Well, sod him. He gave away that right when he told me he didn’t love me, by way of a fucking note. I should go out with Pascal. The girls are right. I need out of this fucking nightmare that I’m currently swimming around in and Pascal will definitely be a distraction. Whether it will be a good distraction or not is yet to be decided.
“Good girl. Now, where’s the card?” Belle asks. “You might as well get on with it before you change your mind.”
“I’m not doing it now. I need to finish this food for James. I’ll do it when I get home later.” Belle narrows her eyes at me. “I will, I promise. Just not now.”
“Right good. What time is it?” she asks no one in particular as she walks out the room, hotly pursued by Teresa into the shop. I follow with yet another sigh of indifference. That’s happening a lot lately, too.
“Twenty past five,” Teresa replies. I wander across to the door to turn the sign. There isn’t any pastries or bread left anyway and James will arrive through the back door in twenty minutes or so.
I gaze out the window at the busy London streets and watch all the cars backing up. Why people don’t use the tube is still beyond me. A grey sports car turns the corner and I smile at the thought of his Aston Martin. It was so like him, refined and elegant, not overtly flashy or some other such on trend brand. just pure and sleek.
“When will James be here?” Belle asks, snapping her fingers and pulling me from my gaze.
“About half an hour. Everything’s ready,” I reply as I make my way back to the kitchen, suddenly feeling incredibly deflated again.
“You could always give him a try again,” she says as she follows me and grabs a carrot. I frown at the thought as I move some pans around.
“I don’t think so. Something tells me he might not be enough anymore,” I reply as I begin loading the part-cooked dishes into the catering trays. She raises her brows and continues with her nibbling. “I’m just... I’m just different now. I want different things. He gave me new insight, taught me stuff and now I need... Oh I don’t know what I need, but I do know that it isn’t James anymore.”
“Will you be okay with Pascal, you know, with all the kinky stuff?” she asks as she waggles her hips at me in what can only be described as a pathetic attempt at provocative. I giggle at her. She looks ridiculous and it feels good so I smile warmly at her.
“I think so. He’s pretty intense but I think he’ll be a gentleman and I don’t intend to sleep with him so hopefully he’ll behave himself,” is my response. God knows why because a behaving himself Pascal is highly unlikely.
“Well, you just keep me informed of where you are. I don’t know the man for toffee and I don’t want you in trouble,” she says as she helps me carry the trays out to the van.
“I promise I’ll let you know. I’ll even give you his number if you want it.” She moves around the counter and looks around uncomfortably.
“What’s it like then, you know, the whips and stuff?” I look at her. She actually seems to be blushing a bit and I can’t help but laugh at her.
“You don’t know? I would have thought that you might already have had some playtime,” I say, thinking of my conversation with Alex about Conner.
“Why would I? I’ve never... What are you saying? Do you know something I don’t?” she asks, the blush disappearing as she clearly cottons on to what I’m suggesting. “Does Conner...?” I raise my eyebrows at her and smile. “Oh, well, yes, he is quite… I suppose he... Right…” She turns and walks into her office, obviously frustrated at her lack of information. I follow her.
“Belle, I don’t know anything for sure. I only know snippets of what Alex would tell me. He was very private about things. He just indicated that Conner helped him with stuff. He never said that Conner was still into it so if you haven’t seen any chains hanging around then maybe it was just a phase for him.”
“Right,” she says again as she throws some vodka down her neck. “You want one?”
“No, I’m going to finish up and go home. I want a long bath and a glass of wine. It’s time for me to get myself back together. One week rule remember.” She smiles and comes around the table for a hug.
“One week rule, yes that was a good one,” she replies as she considers the rule we made up regarding getting over a man. I’d only been seventeen, but we’d used it ever since, giving each other one week to slob out and cry about it before the other one of us kicked backsides and started life back up again. Well, my week is nearly up.
“When’s Conner back?” I cringe inwardly at the thought of him being with Alex. I know they’ve been together in New York. Belle has tried to be discreet about it but I have to accept the fact that my sister has foun
d a good one in Conner and that I’ll be seeing him again soon. The thought makes me sodding uncomfortable - not because I don’t like him. I do. But just because he’s so closely connected to Alex. I still love him; there’s no getting around it, and regardless of how I tackle it, I’m going to have to stand in front of Conner and tell him I’m fine, that I’ve gotten over it and that it’s okay. But it’s not okay because no matter how hard I’m trying to fight it, he is still revolving constantly like a snake in my head, as if he won’t let me go, wrapping himself around my spinal cord to control every nerve and feeling, still breaking my heart again, hourly.
“He said Thursday or Friday,” she says quietly with a shrug. “He’s been in LA. Apparently he had something to sort out.” She looks guilty and I know why, but she really shouldn’t.
“It’s okay, Belle. You know that, don’t you? He’s good for you. Just because Alex and I aren’t together, you shouldn’t feel...” I can’t help the tears that suddenly spring up and flow down my cheeks. She wraps me up in her arms and squeezes tightly. Several painful minutes later, I push away from her a little as the feeling of irritation at my own pathetic behaviour raises its ugly head again.
“I love you, honey. I’ll drop his sorry backside if it will help. You know I will,” she says as she rubs my back and tries to soothe away the tears. I sniff them back and shake myself.
“You will do no such thing. He adores you and you should enjoy it. You deserve a man like him.” She smiles and wipes at my tears, gazing at me for a minute.
“Right, so anyway, tell me more about this BDSM debacle. I think I might need a step-by-step run through of what he might expect from me,” she says. I snort a bemused laugh out because I know all about it, don’t I?
“It’s not something I can just explain like that, Belle, and I’m not sure how much I know anyway. He was the expert, not me, and I’m not entirely sure I saw even half of what’s possible.” She looks confused.
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