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“Where are you going to?” I flip my eyes back to Pascal, giving myself time to appreciate the perfectly cut suit and flawless elegance.
“You’re still very beautiful.” He bows and smirks at me, a step in my direction coming soon after. “It’s a shame you’ve annoyed me.” His brow arches, showing his absolute lack of care at my thoughts on if he’s behaved well or not. It’s reasonably refreshing, reminding me of the man I met a few years ago rather the tamed one who grew submissive.
“As are you, my love.” Hmm. “Should you wish it, we could argue. It would be much fun, no?” I smile and turn back to the door, knowing exactly what comes of arguing with the man. It could be necessary in all honesty. Especially after the Alex thing that I’m still sensing all over me. “I am feeling devilish.” I bet he is. He’ll feel even more so when either I, or Mr Arsehole in there, tell him about the encounter we had earlier.
“You are feeling dominant. Go do that with Alex. Tell him what he is missing out on in your own succinct way. He is being ridiculous,” I reply, thinking of Claire. He nods and smiles at me, love for his daughter shining through his eyes. “And then, afterwards, you might be able to use that sadist of yours to full effect if you can find me.” He laughs quietly and rounds past me, grabbing at the handle to pull the door wide. “You might need to vent yourself.” I look back at him, uninterested in the thought of him at his knees at all. “Not from your knees for once.”
I walk down the steps and head to the car – his car – and wait for whoever it is driving to come and open the door for me. He doesn’t.
“He is untrained as yet,” Pascal calls behind me. Wonderful. I huff and open the damn thing myself. “I will hunt you later, hmm?” Indeed.
I smile and slip inside, ready to head into the city and see what I can find to play with. These two should need about three hours to get whatever it is out of Alex’s system, and then I’ll have some real fun with a man that is honest with his emotions. For me, anyway.
Chapter 12
Alexander
He sat and waited, debating the merits of just fucking Pascal with no words to spoil his mood. That mood being confused and annoyed because Lilah was right. He was being an arsehole. He knew it and the man who was about to walk back in here certainly did, but he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture about responsibilities and accountabilities. He was in the mood for fucking, and the woman who he should be fucking was upstairs in need of care, not fucking.
His eyes glanced at the white queen, fingers reaching to topple it backwards and forwards. He assumed this negative reaction to her wanting children was something he couldn’t work out yet. Or he was so worried about the repercussions of losing another one he didn’t want to try again. Either way, Lilah was right about him crying. He had done. It came from nowhere, rendering him fucking useless in front of her, and then she let him near rape her. Pushed for it. His lips tipped up into a smile. What a fucking conundrum that woman had become. Her version of care, he assumed. Her offer of a home to rest in should he need to with Elizabeth not available.
“Are you scared she will die during childbirth?” What? His head turned to Pascal as he walked back into the room. The man threw his cane on the sofa and walked back to his chair, a huff settling onto his features. “This is the only possible reason I can see for inanity.”
“Where have you been?” he muttered, moving a pawn and waiting for Pascal to respond to the move.
“About,” Pascal replied, countering.
“That’s not an answer.” Rook next.
“I’m not inclined to answer you at present. You have become dense.” His own brow rose at the comment, watching as another pawn moved out.
“Lilah was worried.”
“Were you?”
“No.” Pascal leaned back, and took a sip of drink, refusing to move another piece.
“Hmm. Such love you have for me,” he said in reply, eventually moving another pawn. Alex smiled at the amount of love he had for the devil in front of him. He had more love for Pascal than just about anyone, Elizabeth included at the moment. Not the same sort of love. Barely love at all really, more respect. But it was a connection. A deep and sinful connection.
“I’ve missed you,” fell from his lips quietly, as he reached for a countering white pawn and pushed it forward.
“You have?” Pascal looked surprised. He didn’t know why. He always missed him. Missed his flair. Missed his wit. He looked him over. Missed his skin.
“I have.”
“Why have you not called then?”
He sighed at the question. He didn’t know the answer, not entirely. He had been too bothered about Elizabeth. Too confused with what was happening around him. And the last thing he’d wanted was for her to feel like she wasn’t the most important thing in his life, which he appeared to have managed anyway. Also – fatherhood and his hands did not mix well together. Keeping Pascal away from him was a hope at curtailing the beast. It hadn’t worked. Just amplified it instead. Which probably caused even more confusion and belligerence. “Because I’m being an arsehole.”
“You are bored, Alexander. That is what you are,” Pascal said, getting up and taking their drinks back to the bar.
Bored? Maybe he was. His thoughts drifted back to the meeting with Louisa, his annoyance at selling up more interesting than he thought at the time. “You have become too comfortable, hmm?” Comfortable. He scanned the room quietly, trying to imagine anything that was challenging in the last few years other than Elizabeth’s need for children. There wasn’t anything. Not one thing.
Apart from this man occasionally.
He looked at him coming back, hand offering a drink as he smiled and looked back at the board. Pascal sat and gazed at the game again, sipping his drink.
Alex threw his own king into the middle of the board, finishing the game before it even started, and downed his own cognac. “Come here.” Pascal narrowed his eyes at the order, his shoulders braced back against his seat, and sneered.
