“Orange?” Why orange? “And I don’t think people tie their presents to the tree.”
“It’s a nice colour, like your hair. And I’ll tie you anywhere I want,” he says as he moves us backwards and stands up. His feet are moving us somewhere as I cling onto him and delight in the feeling of him deep inside, where he belongs.
“Then orange it is, Mr. White. Where are we going now?”
“Bedroom, to celebrate. I’ve never lived with anyone before so this is definitely a time for you to feel some of my affection,” he replies with a lick of his lips and a wink. “And before you remember all the reasons why you absolutely shouldn’t move in with me, I need to remind you of why you should.”
He opens a door behind me and walks us straight into a bedroom, which has me gasping instantly, not only at the size of the bed but the fact that it’s covered with deep orange roses, almost perfectly matching my hair. They’re strewn over every surface and filling the room with a sweet, mesmerizing scent. My head swings back to meet his eyes.
“Ever made love on a bed of roses, Elizabeth?” My head shakes a no in utter amazement. When the hell did he do this? And how amazing is it? I have a feeling those pesky fairies have been hard at work again. Either that or someone snuck in while we were on the sofa, which would have been damned impossible to be honest.
“I... I... How did...?” I can’t speak. I’m completely blown away. The man is not only a sex god with looks to die for but is now apparently throwing romance into the mix with full effect. I really haven’t got a hope and it’s completely obvious to me that I’ll never love another man like I do him. Not one thing in the world will ever make me question my feelings for him again or my commitment to him. “I... I love you.”
“Mmm, good. I haven’t had the thorns removed though so don’t be too overwhelmed with my romantic gesture. It’s self-satisfying to some degree,” he replies. His devious smile as he walks us over to the bed and lowers me down onto it has me thinking that we’re probably in for a long evening, and that I’m more than likely going to be quite sore by the morning.
And I’m moving in with Alexander White.
Oh god.
Chapter 27
Alexander
T wo cups of coffee. He smiled. Would he ever wake up again and only make one?
Hopefully not.
He’d left her an hour ago, draped across his bed, surrounded by the roses they’d demolished and sleeping peacefully. It had been quite a task removing himself from her side for the day ahead but she needed rest after the night he’d pushed her through. There’s no way she’d be moving a step today without feeling every second of where his body had been last night and rightly so. She was his now, lock, stock and fucking barrel. She’d be feeling a lot more in the future so she might as well get used to the ache and start enjoying it.
She was utter perfection and for whatever reason, she was moving in with him. Why she still hadn’t run for the hills was a complete mystery but he couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so happy. As far as he was concerned, this love she pulled out of him would only get stronger. Even letting his fingers leave her skin this morning had been torturous, as if he might not make it through the day without her touch to soothe his soul.
Every breath she made against him relaxed him back towards that serene place he longed for as he continued to battle his own selfish demons regarding his life, his bastard of a father and all the death that shrouded his past ominously. That shit was just waiting to tear them both apart and he could feel it whistling over his skin like the first winds of a hurricane, teasing him with promises of bright horizons while threatening the building tornados like the fucking devil in the background.
Well she clearly knew how to deal with a devil or two. That wasn’t the problem. But the violence, the twisted nature of his previous employment and some of his present life, well that she just wasn’t going to accept and he knew it with every beat of his heart. She was too good, too kind, too decent, too damn beautiful and regardless of the fact that it was in the past and that he wouldn’t be revisiting it any time soon, she would never forgive it, or him for it. So while she wanted everything from him and he’d lied and said she could have all of him, she simply wasn’t going to get it all. He couldn’t risk it because what was the point of life without her now?
He looked across at the painting and scowled. He knew she’d been staring at it as he’d taken her and she’d given that last barrier between them over to him, the last piece of her body for him to own and claim as his. Christ, he’d been looking at it too and telling himself he’d be everything for her, whatever she needed. Whatever she wanted from him she could have, anything to keep her close to him and safe, to ensure she kept loving him and ridding him of his inner loathing, just not the whole truth. So now, as those eyes stared back at him again from the image reminding him of his guilt and reminding him that he was undeserving of any form of love, he sighed in frustration.
She probably looked at that picture and saw a poor, fragile child that she wanted to protect and cherish like the heaven sent angel she was. All he ever saw was a murderous young man and a father who moulded him to be that way.
“Fuck you,” he mumbled under his breath as he snarled at the image and turned away again in disgust. Perhaps he should face the bastard at some point and tell him what he’d done, show him exactly what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a sadist’s hand, the hand he’d created with his flawed idea of parenting. Actually, the fucker would probably be proud of his achievement, of the wisdom of his teachings. The thought made his skin crawl as the realization hit him once again that he was no better than the bastard in some ways. Worse really.
His phone beeped in the background, bringing him back to the present. He pressed the button on the coffee machine and swiped across it to find several emails. Opening one, he scanned the document from Jacobs and instantly froze at the information. What the fuck? She’d been with Henry? Why the hell had she been with Henry yesterday? And who the fuck was the other man? Fury was instantly rolling across him in waves as he devoured the rest of the document and tried desperately to quell the rising paranoia. It was damn stupid of him to feel this way given that she’d just agreed to move in with him, but he couldn’t stop it from gripping at the blood in his veins and heightening every instinct he had to go and kill the dick, either of them.
He shook his head and threw his phone on the countertop. He had to stop this shit. She loved him, and she meant every word that left her lovely lips because the one thing she wasn’t was a liar. There had to be a sensible explanation. He’d just ask her. That’s what normal people did in a relationship, wasn’t it? Communicated honestly and didn’t entertain the idea of games? Fucked if he knew, but at least he was trying to learn.
Another beep alerted him to a text. He swiped it on the table and leant over the phone.
- Berlin is hosting this year’s event, dear boy. You will both be expected in correct attire. Do not defy me on this, Alexander.
Defy him?
Fuck.
Well that would be an interesting evening no doubt. He thumbed through his diary, selected the twenty-eighth of December and entered the information. Whether they were actually going to go was questionable. He still couldn’t make up his mind if he wanted to kill the arsehole or not, and as he hadn’t got a clue who was currently in control of their little soiree, he couldn’t quite work out whose decision anything was anymore. Clearly Pascal thought it was his to determine, but watching his hands all over her had been agonising, and having to deal with the whole aftermath of his inability to control himself around the man had been tortuous to say the least. Master fucking manipulator, had he planned the whole thing to end that way or was he really just trying to help with his own deluded sense of appropriateness?
Dominant and submissive, what the hell did that mean to any of them anymore? Who the hell was who in this situation they’d somehow found themselves in? He frowned at how quickly the m
an had gotten those handcuffs on him. Pascal may have chosen him for his own needs but it certainly didn’t mean that the man would bow down to him for any other reason. Was she too much of a temptation for him? Could he be trusted to behave himself? He’d never cared before, just watched on as the man took what he wanted with reckless abandon, but now... She was too important, and the fact that the bastard might have feelings for her too was a concern he wasn’t sure how to deal with.
He looked over at the bedroom door and pondered her reaction to the that sort of occasion. She’d taken the auction well enough, Rome too, and with her want for everything from him, perhaps it was exactly what he should show her. What a Christmas line up - an emotional weekend with the family, a debauched ball and then New Year with Henry fucking DeVille. Christ, that holiday was looking better by the second. Mind you, the sudden vision of her in the correct attire had him grinning from ear to ear and pressing his cock into the cabinet below him with a groan. He sent a quick email to Louisa to have the jet ready for them on the morning of the twenty-eighth. Either he’d have sorted his head out by then or she’d have made a decision for him.
Scanning through a few more emails, he made some quick responses and then glanced at the time. Six forty-five, should he wake her yet? What were her plans today? In fact, he still didn’t know why she’d come over yesterday. Maybe it was to do with Henry; he hadn’t given her much of a chance to talk when he’d walked in on her. Frankly, the sight of her in his apartment again had been too much. He’d wanted to fuck the life out of her the first time she was here. He wasn’t giving her a chance to leave again before he had a vision to remember. He chuckled and turned toward the machine again. He was waking her up so he could make some more visions to remember.
“Hey,” her sleep laden voice said. His eyes turned to see her wandering through the lounge wrapped in the dark blue bed sheet. He raised a brow at her choice of clothing.
“What? My clothes are in here. Don’t you like the look?” She pushed one of her very appealing legs through the slit in the material as she collapsed on the chair and gazed over at him with that enticing smile of hers. He wasn’t sure whether to take her to bed again or pin her against the window. He walked across to her with the coffee and plucked a few rose petals from her hair. She giggled and took them from him. “So, I was thinking that you might want to tell me why you put those numbers on your back.”
“Which ones?” he replied quietly, trying not to narrow his eyes. She really didn’t need to know any of them to be honest.
“All of them,” she said as her full lips enveloped the side of the glass and he watched her throat swallow. There really was no getting away from this shit, was there? Why the hell did he cover himself in this ink the first fucking place? “When you’re ready… I’d just like to know what has been so important to you that you felt the need to ink you skin with the memory.”
“Well that’s a lot of information you’re after, Miss Scott,” he replied as he pondered her surname and the connotations of changing it. Would she do that? Marry him? No, why the fuck would she?
“You don’t need to hide anything from me, Alex. I love you. You couldn’t tell me anything that could make me love you less.”
He highly doubted that statement but loved her for it nonetheless. He needed to get off this subject and quickly. She’d just agreed to move in with him; he was damned if he’d give her a reason to change her mind.
“And what have you been hiding from me, Elizabeth? Hmm?” She looked affronted instantly. It didn’t surprise him so he chuckled at her and winked.
“Bastard,” she replied as she pushed his knee with her foot playfully. “Oh, but on that note, the reason I came here yesterday was to tell you I saw Henry. I think I may have inadvertently ballsed things up a bit.” His entire body responded by stiffening and searching her eyes for any sign of dishonesty. She batted them at him and smiled. “Now don’t go all ferocious on me, Mr. White. I’m too sore and that’s all your own fault so chill out.” He snorted out a laugh and walked over to the kitchen to get some breakfast.
“What did he want?” he asked, grabbing croissants, jam and butter.
“Well I don’t really know. I was having lunch with James and then suddenly he appeared, sat down and chatted for a bit, then told me he was surprised I hadn’t seen the light and left you yet. Next he was informing me that he had no idea who you were pretending to be but he worried about me, and then to top it all off, he told me to keep my nose out of things that didn’t concern me. To be honest, I was a bit put out by the whole conversation and given your current, let’s annihilate each other, predicament, I just wanted to get out of there. So I left, and tried to get hold of you, but you were in a meeting or something. So I came over instead. I just hope I didn’t let him know that I knew and therefore you knew, if you know what I mean. Is that confusing? I’m rambling, aren’t I?” She glided over to him and sat on the barstool opposite. James the arsehole strikes again.
What the hell was she doing with that jumped up prick? The dick was desperate to get his cock into her. He needed to deal with the bastard and damn quickly. Preferably he could just fuck off and work somewhere else having had his head ripped off and shoved in a very dark hole.
“Why were you with James?” He tried for calm but the sudden aggression in his voice was clearly apparent because the frown he received in return wasn’t a happy one.
“I’ve just told you about Henry and you’re worried about James? Jesus, Alex, grow up.” She slid off the stool and walked over towards the bedroom again. His eyes narrowed at her back as that fury began to unfurl itself into something more.
“Where the fuck are you going? I asked you a question. Get back here and answer it,” he growled, suddenly furious with her for spending any more time with the man than she had to. Henry he could deal with, but James was an unknown commodity. She halted and turned slowly.
“Please don’t do this. I work with him,” she replied quietly, holding her hands out to him. It wasn’t fucking working regardless of her stunning eyes.
“And work includes eating lunch in a damn restaurant?”
“Yes, sometimes it does.” Her eyes dropped to the floor. What wasn’t she telling him?
“Are you fucking him?” Her face shot back to his in shock. Good, she wasn’t fucking the wanker at least.
“What the hell kind of question is that?”
“It’s the only reason I can see for you having lunch with another man.” Even as he said it, he knew it was ridiculous but he wasn’t having her near the man. Pascal’s hands were confusing enough. A stranger’s were not welcome in the slightest.
“Really? Wow, you only have lunch with women you fuck? Well Christ, that’s a lot of lunches you must have had. Was Louisa at one of them?”
What the hell had that got to do with anything?
“Don’t change the bloody subject,” he seethed as he watched her backside swing away from him casually again.
“What, manipulate it you mean? Damned arrogant, self-centered arsehole. How dare you? If you must know, I had lunch to celebrate with him. I offered him my second chef’s job, which he accepted thankfully,” she said nonchalantly as she waved her hand about and walked around the corner toward the bedroom. His eyes widened at the thought. It was not fucking happening and certainly not in the building he’d just given to her. Bitch. Christ, he loved her attitude but James? Really? Absolutely not.
“He is not working with you full time,” he said tersely as he followed her. The heavy scent of roses assaulted him instantly, reminding him of last night. Visions of her roped wrists and ankles as she gave him ultimate control with her body flowed swiftly through every vein, only increasing his need to do it all again.
“Yes, he is. It’s my business and my choice. Suck it up, White,” she replied calmly as she brought a rose to her nose and inhaled.
“The fuck it is! Call him and tell him you’ve changed your mind,” he shouted. Either that or he would, wi
th fucking pleasure. She raised a brow and turned for the bathroom.
“Oh, sod off.”
“I’m really not joking, Elizabeth. Call him. Now.” She looked back and gazed at him with that mysterious smile and a wink. Why wasn’t she getting wound up? She almost looked... aroused. Something about it was familiar but he couldn’t put his finger on the reaction for the life of him.
“You know you look very appetising when your eyes start turning dark blue? Sometimes they go almost black. Did you know that? It used to be a little scary if I’m honest, not anymore though.”
“You will do as you’re fucking told,” he seethed, taking a step toward her. This was getting old. She would call the idiot and remove him from the equation and show her loyalty to him. She giggled and started picking the petals off the rose reverently. He had no idea what game she was playing but his cock was jumping all over the place in response.
“Alex, I am not, nor have ever been fucking James. I thought the potential threat to your company might be a little more important to you than this stupid feeling you have regarding another man. And given that Pascal had his hands all over me the other day, at your request I might add, I don’t think you’ve got any room to act all jealous about someone who has never been anything other than gentlemanly around me.”
“Pascal is irrelevant, James is not. He is a dick and I don’t want you to see him again.”
That hit a nerve because her face changed instantly from one of arousal to venomous contempt. He was so intrigued by the change that he tried to work out what had caused it. Her eyes were slits and a blush of potential rage shot across her chest.
“You think what you’re asking me to do with Pascal is irrelevant? What fucking world do you live in? James is a decent man, one you both could probably learn something from, and he doesn’t deserve your wrath. I won’t have his name tarnished by your insecurities. He’s also the best person for my business. If I tell you I’m jealous of Louisa, will you sack her for me?”
Feeling White Page 61