Feeling White

by Charlotte E Hart

  So now I’m sitting, well actually almost lying, in my chair with my feet resting very inelegantly on the coffee table, thinking about trying to move my hand to get to the wine. Belle is equally flaked out on the sofa, staring at her ring absentmindedly while glugging on her own glass. We’re apparently waiting for Teresa to bring more wine. I’m assuming this means that Pascal has done the right thing and that she hasn’t seen him today. I’m still perplexed by how this made me smile stupidly but I’m not over thinking it. Frankly, I haven’t got the energy.

  “So, wedding plans?” I ask as I haul myself up and reach for my drink.

  “Long engagement,” she replies with a snort. “My idea, not his. I just want to keep it like this for a while and see what happens.”

  I narrow my eyes at her and her unenthusiastic face. I haven’t had the chance to talk to her for ages and her lukewarm response is confusing to say the least.

  “Are you going to move in with him?”

  “I might,” she says as she stretches her neck about and then refills her glass.

  “Okay, what’s the matter? Last week you were smiling giddily and flashing that ring around for the world to see and now you’re acting like you couldn’t give a damn about him.” Her face is a mixture of confusion and soft wistfulness all of a sudden as she sighs at me and looks over.

  “He told me some things about his past that I’ve not been able to process properly. I suppose I’ve only got myself to blame because I did push for answers, but it doesn’t mean I’m entirely happy with his response. It’s just made me realise I know nothing about him if I’m honest, and now it feels fucking strange to have this ring on my finger.”

  Oh, right, well I know that feeling, obviously not the ring but the utter confusion over who a man is. That’s completely normal for me.

  “So what do you want to do about that?”

  “I don’t know. How much do you know about Alex? Conner told me some things that I never thought he was capable of. I’m beginning to question who these pair really are,” she says as the door flies open and a furious yet gorgeous looking Teresa stomps in and helps herself to the wine without even saying hello. We both look at her in shock as she downs one glass and then clearly decides the bottle is a better idea so lifts it and begins drinking it down.

  “Whoa, girl, what’s got up your arse?” Belle asks as she looks in the bag and pulls out five more bottles of wine. Teresa eventually stops drinking and discards the bottle.

  “Irritating fucking Frenchman, or whatever he is, that’s what. What a fucking nerve, cancelling on me at the last damn minute. Who the hell does he think he is? This is me, for fuck’s sake. Nobody cancels on me. I mean, look at me. Would you cancel on this?” she fumes as she waves her hands at herself and her very expensive looking purple dress with matching purple heels that are obviously new. I have to admit she looks utterly breathtaking and I cringe at the thought that I made her this angry. Well, Pascal did, but fundamentally it was me and my possessiveness. I can call it doing the right thing as much as I like but in reality, I just didn’t want him with her because it felt wrong somehow.

  “I absolutely wouldn’t cancel on you, honey. You look completely fucking awesome. He’s a dickhead, whoever he is. Who is it by the way?” Belle asks, clearly unaware of the plan.

  “Pascal fucking Van Der fucking Braak, cock faced arsehole,” she shouts to no one in particular. This was definitely not a casual thing for her like she suggested to me. I’ve never seen her so wound up by a man in my life.

  “Dutch then,” Belle replies nonchalantly as she meanders over to the kitchen and brings back a bag of crackers and some cheese.

  “What?” Teresa says, staring at Belle, still fuming.

  “Dutch. Van Der Braack is a Dutch surname. I didn’t know that was his surname. Why didn’t someone tell me this?” It is? Right, Dutch. Oh well at least I know where he’s from now. “Actually, I think we did a thesis or something on the family in St. Peters - very blue blood, third removed from old royalty. Shit, is he part of that family do you think?” I knew it.

  “What the fuck has that got to do with anything?” Teresa replies, stomping off to my bedroom, probably to help herself to some of my comfy clothes. Two minutes later she returns in a pair of my shorts and a hoodie, still looking furious as she picks up a glass and starts glugging again.

  “Come on, honey, calm down. You knew what he was like. I did try to warn you.”

  Again I’m cringing but she needs to get over this. I definitely did the right thing, regardless of my own reasons because Teresa would have been even worse if he’d actually played with her. She barks out an irritated snort and falls on the sofa next to Belle.

  “I’m more furious with myself than him if I’m honest. When did you last see me like this? It’s ridiculous that a sodding man can do this to me regardless of his blue blood, probably vampiric I should think.” My splutter of wine doesn’t go unnoticed as she smirks a little mid-paragraph. “I just can’t believe I let myself get that hopeful about it. I mean, the man’s an arsehole to women, isn’t he? God, I’m an idiot,” she replies as she repeatedly slams her head against the back of the sofa. Belle smacks her across the face and glares at her.

  “You are definitely not an idiot, but he absolutely is a fucking arsehole if he’s turned you down, honey. Anyway, you said he’d cancelled. Maybe he just had other stuff he needed to do. Beth said he’s got businesses all over the place. Perhaps he’ll just rearrange or something,” she says as she nods at me. It’s not going to happen, because of me, but I think I’m supposed to agree and help her feel better about this or something. Should I just tell her the truth or make up some shit that will keep stringing her along? Christ, I just want at least one of us to find a reasonably normal one for once, and Pascal is emphatically not normal. He might be for the right woman. Unfortunately for her, that woman is not Teresa.

  “Let it go, honey. The man’s a dick, granted a very attractive one, but you knew this would just be a fling. You told me that yourself. Please don’t get so wound up by this. He might call you again but in reality, it’ll still end up the same way. He was never after more than one thing. That’s why I was trying to warn you off,” I respond to her as she pulls up her legs and looks into her wine glass as if that’s not the answer she was looking for. I might be a bitch for doing all this but now I’m very glad I did because the sight of her so unhappy is very nearly killing me. My fingers are itching to call him and tell him what he’s done. Unfortunately, he won’t care and fundamentally it’s all my fault anyway, isn’t it? God, I feel like shit. She eventually shifts in her seat and looks up at me.

  “You’re right, Beth. I don’t need a man like that, do I? Plenty more fish and all that. Just do me a favour and slap the shit out of him the next time you see him, will you? I’m deleting his number as we speak,” she says as she pulls her phone out, swipes a few things then flings it on the table in apparent revulsion.

  Slap Pascal? I could do that. He’s more than likely never had a slap, though he’s given plenty I’m sure. I’m disgusted with myself as I smile privately at the thought and hide my face behind my glass.

  “Right, well now that’s sorted, when are we going to see this building of yours, Miss Moneybags?” Belle asks as she loads enormous amounts of cheese onto a cracker and begins munching. Suddenly very happy with this change of subject, thank you Belle, I brighten my face and think about tomorrow.

  “Well, we could go tomorrow if you like. The shop’s closed and I’m not seeing Alex until the afternoon so what do you think?” I ask as I help myself to some of the very appealing looking cheese and down it with some more wine. They both nod their heads and relax back again.

  “Did you think about more staff?” Teresa chimes in. “You’ll definitely need another chef and we’re likely to need someone to run the shop if I’m coming with you. Actually, are you going to need another pair of hands for prep as well? God, this is actually a lot to think about. What abo
ut the new catering benches and cookers and stuff?”

  “We’re going to need a new chef, two more catering hands and someone to run the shop daily. I’ve looked into a loan for all the stuff we need at Defoe Point, but I’m just not sure how much we’ll need until I see the space,” Belle replies as I stare at her in shock. Clearly she’s been organising herself well, as usual. I haven’t thought much about it at all, apart from the James bit.

  “I was thinking we could ask James,” I say. Their heads shoot back to me.

  “Because I’m sure Mr. White is going to think that’s a fabulous idea,” Teresa says with a roll of her eyes as my phone beeps at me. I grab it and swipe as Belle starts in.

  “Well fuck him. James is great and I think it’s a perfect call, honey. Ask him and see what he says.”

  “Okay, what about the catering stuff?” I reply as I glance down at the screen.

  - It appears your presence has engrained itself, my rose. I am not normally so easily persuaded. I trust my decent behaviour will be rewarded at some point when I call on it.

  Oh god… What on earth does he think he’s going to get in return? Belle and Teresa are mumbling along in the background as I try to understand what I’ve just done. I assumed, obviously wrongly, that he would just do this for me. Clearly I should have known better. He wants something from me, which he’s going to get anyway if Alex has anything to do with it, but what if he means on his own? Before I get a chance to reply, my phone beeps again.

  - I’ve missed you today. Hope work was okay. I’ll pick you up at two tomorrow. Love you x

  Oh god, that makes me feel like even more of a shit. I should tell him about this before Pascal gets any stupid ideas in his head. Perhaps not by text, though. Tomorrow will be good. Alex will be able to deal with him and put him back in his place, I think. Why did I get mixed up in any of this? With speedy fingers, I reply to the man I love first.

  - Love you too. My day was very long and very tiring. How was yours? See you tomorrow X

  Now Pascal.

  - Thank you for your decency, Pascal. Your reward is my affection and gratitude to the

  man I know is still in there. Your rose.

  That should work. He likes me nipping at his soft side, I hope. Actually, he might be thinking extremely inappropriately about anything but his soft side. I glance over at Teresa and feel guilt biting at me, then rapidly squash it back down. Whatever he is to me, he wouldn’t have been that to her. He would have used her and then unceremoniously dumped her without thought. I’ve done the right thing here. Beep again.

  - My day was underwhelming without you to play with. Like I said, I missed you. x

  My smile broadens at the thought of him playing with me, just like he did in his pool, jacuzzi and sauna as the rain pelted down on the glass roof. I’m almost wishing I was there again, in his very deviant hands, being manhandled and loved, but I seriously need my bed tonight.

  “Who are you smiling at?” Belle asks with a smirk.

  “Who do you think? That was clearly a very naughty thought she was having,” Teresa replies as my phone beeps again.

  - Gratitude is displayed in varying ways, my rose. I would prefer yours bound and gagged. That voice of yours distracts me from my usual thoughts.

  Oh shit, my face must be flaming. The arsehole is definitely after something. Actually, it makes me realise that Alex has backed off on all that stuff a little. I’m missing it a bit if I’m honest. He’s still aggressive but there haven’t been any additions to our sex life for a while.

  “I’m thinking that was explicit to say the least,” Belle says as she pours me more wine.

  “I’m really not happy about all this sex talk. I’m feeling very under used over here. Will one of you find me a damn man and quick,” Teresa states with her first giggle of the evening. I smile at her and swear to myself that I might just do that. Alex must have other friends apart from the obscenely nonstandard ones I currently know. My fingers travel to my phone again.

  - I missed you too. Think of something to do with me tomorrow, anything you want x

  His response comes back as I’m texting Pascal.

  - Well you asked for it. Try to piss me off a bit before I get to you x

  So I dump his text and reply to the man I love instead because my brain has suddenly ratcheted up a notch into, whatever you want, Alex mode, which is completely enthralling and utterly riveting. I have no idea what the man will come up with next. His ability to turn inanimate objects into sex toys is astounding.

  - Getting you pissed off seems to be something I can do easily enough. Until tomorrow. I love you x

  As I stare at the two girls chortling away between themselves and begin to imagine Alex’s hands all over me, Teresa’s face promptly reminds me of Mr. Van Der Braack. I narrow my eyes at the thought. I can’t keep doing this texting thing behind Alex’s back because he will flip if he finds out. I could use that to piss him off a bit, I suppose. But I’m not sure that’s quite what he meant. I am assuming he meant it in a fun sort of way. Actually, I miss his darker side a little. Why is still mystifying. However, there’s just something very appealing about it in a slightly scary sort of way. Why hasn’t he taken me to Pascal by now anyway? Or the club at least. Is he waiting for me to ask? Or is he still keeping me away from him, or vice versa? Not that I’d want him pissed off for that scenario. That could be way too detrimental to my personal wellbeing. And thinking about it, we haven’t tried any... well, back door activity again since the car. My fingers find my phone.

  - I’m his to play with, Pascal, not yours. Please don’t make this difficult, but I am grateful to you nonetheless. Your rose

  The response is almost instant. I have no idea how people text that fast.

  - It will be your decision, my rose, not his. It may never be his choice again.

  What the hell does that mean? While my inner slut may be hitching up her skirt and leaping fences to get to the very corrupt aristocrat, is he suggesting that I’m somehow in control of all this? And actually, does Pascal know what’s going to happen anyway? Surely not. Having said that, they have done this sort of thing before and he’s more than likely ready to do Alex’s bidding at the drop of a hat, isn’t he? But what does he mean by this not being Alex’s choice. It’s all his choice, isn’t it? Well, I’ve obviously got some say in the matter but fundamentally, he’s the one who sees all this as normal, not me.

  I’m still very much out of my comfort zone on this.

  I drop my phone on the table and gaze back at my girls in the hope of distracting myself from very inappropriate visions. Thankfully, another glass of wine or two later and I’m well on my way to not thinking about any man at all. The only thing on my mind is giggling and acting like a complete idiot as Belle knocks up the music.

  It seems we won’t be having that early night after all.

  ~

  In the very cold December light of day, getting completely inebriated last night was not the best way to alleviate feeling tired. I’m dressed in my long, black, flat boots, black jeans and a black jumper. I did try to brighten up the look with my red, three-quarter length, Mont Clare coat but to be honest, I’m still so hungover that I couldn’t care less what I look like. Thankfully, I did at least get a very good lie in, which resulted in me not even getting out of my bed until eleven o’clock. Belle’s attempt at the coffee machine seemed to work a bit so three double shots later, I think I vaguely resemble a human of some sort.

  Monday’s London traffic is its normal busy self. I still don’t really understand where any of it’s going, but then London never seems to stop. It just keeps zooming about and getting its job done, whatever it is. Now we’re all walking along the road towards what will be our new building, my building, and I still can’t believe he gave it to me as we approach the corner arm in arm. Belle’s giggling like an excited schoolgirl. It’s the wealth of it all. Frankly she’s a whore for a bit of power. Teresa is unfortunately still looking a little for
lorn, which keeps kicking me in the guts. I’m such a bitch. I really do hate myself for making her so sad, but it was never meant to be so I’ll just have to make it up to her somehow. Who knows? Perhaps I should take her into one of Alex’s many interesting twilight zones. Maybe she’ll find someone there, probably another arsehole though.

  We round the corner and are immediately greeted with various work and trade vehicles. My eyes shoot to Belle who instantly arches a brow at me.

  “Doing a little decorating, are we?”

  “Uh, no,” is my response as I continue forward and watch a man unload what appears to be a stainless steel sink unit.

  “Well someone is,” Teresa says as she catches up with me, fluffs her hair and instantly launches herself at a really quite attractive blond man lifting a heavy looking bag with no shirt on. It’s bloody December for God’s sake.

  “Can I help you, love?” one of the other men asks as he gives me a once over and stands in front of the door. At least this one’s wearing clothes. Still, I don’t like his smarmy tone in the slightest.

  “Yes, could you move out of the way so I can get into my building,” I reply snarkily as I take a step forward.