Freeing Alex (9 page)

I must fall to sleep. I don’t know
how long I’ve been sleeping but when I wake it’s barely light, the summer sun
just starting to show itself through the blinds. Turning in my bed and facing
the window, I look at the patterns the light is making on the blind. The events
of yesterday replay in my mind. I have shared the secrets I have kept for years
with a man I barely know and with my daughter. Yes, she knew there were issues,
but she is now fully aware of the brutality her father is capable of.
What
have I done?

I’d learnt to accept what Lewis did to me, what he was like,
I suppose, but I never expected – certainly never wanted – Anna to find out
about how, the extent to which her father had abused me. He’s never laid a
finger on Anna and swore he would kill anyone who hurt her, I know he probably
would. I remember the history of those scars. There were other things as well,
the odd thump and slap, the occasional broken rib, but never my face, he was
careful never to hit my face and up until the branding I’d not been subjected
to any form of abuse from him. He’d argue with me, yes, all of the time – every
day, some weeks, I’d have done something wrong. Stayed too late at school when
I worked, gone on a school trip he didn’t
quite
agree with or approve
of… Why did the violence start after Anna was born?

My mind drifts to the news that I am not my mum and dad’s
real daughter. I think about the years I spent talking on the phone with “Aunty
Maggie”, the birthday cards and presents, Christmas gifts and the tokens that
she always came home with from her travels around the world. I remember the
national costume dolls she’d bring home and leave with my mum, I’d take them in
to school to show the teachers and my friends. “Look what my Aunty Maggie
brought me back from Bermuda…” Now that was one that really earned me some
street-cred in the day! Thirty-odd years ago you were considered to be
something if you’d got yourself off on a holiday to Bermuda.

All the time the woman bringing these things had been my
mother. It never occurred to me until now, but she always visited when I was at
school. Always a reason why she couldn’t stay. Mum used to say, “Maggie’s
really sorry she missed you – she had to get back for…” Whatever. She’d avoid
all physical contact, only speaking on the telephone every now and then. What a
life! I sigh.

Suddenly I’m aware of another being in my room. I sit up
and, there in the corner, asleep in my easy chair, is James, his head lolled on
one side, hands loosely held together in his lap, his long legs stretched out
in front of him. I watch him breathing deeply, his soft yet masculine face, the
full beautiful lips, lips that have brushed my cheek, his dark hair messed up.
He really is stunning.

He stirs, aware, I think, that I am looking at him, opening
those dark eyes, eyes that mesmerize. “Good morning,” he croaks. “How are you
feeling this morning?”

“Okay.” I pull myself up in my bed, I need the loo. Throwing
the quilt back, I swing my legs out over the side of my bed, stand and walk
toward my en-suite.

“Need to use the bathroom,” I mumble as I walk past him. He
just nods, still sleepy.

Throughout the years of arguing and thumping, slapping and
shaking, I think I’ve managed to learn to bounce back, and bounce back quickly
– I’ve had to for Anna’s sake, because if I didn’t, if I let Lewis down by not
being ready or not doing something, I’d be subjected to more arguing, slapping
and thumping. I’ve learned to lick my wounds and carry on. I’m sure there are
some people that may take the view that
it’s not so bad, she’s up and around
again now
,
but the motivation, the reason for being
up and around
so quickly is the fear of being knocked down again.

In the bathroom I do what I need to, wash my hands, splash
some water over my face and brush my teeth. Looking in the mirror, I wonder who
this woman is looking back at me. Who is she? Over the last few months so much
has happened. I’m confused, I’m hurt but I’m also very angry. Angry with Lewis
for what he’s done to me, what he’s made me, but also with people who are no
longer here, people I thought I could trust, people who were supposed to
protect me.

Grabbing my robe, I wander back to my room. “Want some
coffee?” I ask the sleepy man in my chair.

“That would be good.” He stands. “Mind if I use your
bathroom first?”

“Go ahead, I’ll be downstairs.” I’m slightly embarrassed
that this man who, let’s face it, I barely know, has slept in my room.

I
sort out my cafetière for his coffee, something I don’t drink myself but I know
that James has coffee in the morning. I make myself a pot of tea, Assam. I
can’t stomach coffee in the morning. Once made I put the cafetière and pot onto
the island along with the milk jug and sugar bowl and sort out a couple of
mugs. I feel like I’m on auto-pilot, completing the mundane day-to-day tasks
without any thought. I glance at the clock, it’s still very early.

Rummaging through the bread bin, I find some bagels. I’m not
really hungry but I expect James will want something. I pop a couple into the
toaster just as he appears, his hair still messed up. Regardless of his state
he still looks incredibly sexy. He walks to the island and drops onto a stool,
reaches for a mug and pours himself coffee, black.

He looks at me concerned, frowning. “You sure you’re okay,
Alex? You don’t look it to me.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need some time,” I mumble as I pour
myself a mug of tea.

Taking the bagels from the toaster, I place them onto a
dinner plate in the middle of the island with a pot of raspberry jam, two bread
and butter plates and a couple of knives. “Help yourself.” I nod towards the
bagels.

The Bossman takes one. “Got any cream cheese?”

“I think so, low fat, it’s in the fridge.” I point towards
the huge stainless steel fridge and he mooches over. I note he’s barefoot. Even
his feet are sexy, just like the rest of him. There’s something about bare feet
– well,
nice
bare feet!

He returns with his tub of Philly and a punnet of
strawberries. I frown. Cheese and strawberries? He spreads a thick layer of
cream cheese onto his bagel, which he devours quickly, washed down with a
second coffee. I’m still slowly spreading jam onto mine.

“Do you want to talk?” he asks quietly.

“How come you ended up with me?” I ask.

“Because Maggie found me and installed me as her General
Manager,” he answers with a smile, “nothing more than that. And I’m good at
what I do, I suppose,” he adds.

Standing, he takes the strawberries to the sink. One by one
he washes them and hulls them. “Got a bowl?” he asks, with a mouthful of
strawberry. I point to the cupboard and he reaches for a small china cereal
bowl. Using kitchen towel he dries the strawberries off before sitting down
again.

“So you’ve a name for yourself, in the industry?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, I was just looking to
move back to the UK and Maggie was looking for a General Manager. We just…
well, I suppose we just got hooked up!” He shrugs, he’s modest. He takes
another strawberry and pops it in his mouth. The act looks so erotic, or is it
just James making it look so?

“You helped me yesterday, you helped me face up to my past
and tell Ana what a bastard her father is,” I mumble.

“I didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done for anyone else?”
He looks at me and reaches for another strawberry.

I look at him as he eats the red fruit, “No, but you took
charge, to guided me to acknowledge that I needed to tell Anna. What I mean is
you didn’t take charge like Lewis, in a bad way, but in a guiding way, leading
me.” I pause a moment, reflecting on my old life,   “He was in charge, always,
but nasty with it. Aggressive, treated me like a slave. You weren’t, you were
firm but very kind. Thank you.”  I give him just a little bit more information
about my relationship with Lewis.

He spreads cheese on another bagel. “You don’t have to thank
me, I would have done the same for anyone. Well, most people.” He takes a bite,
looking at me and then down to my plate. “You haven’t eaten, you need to eat.”
There’s no smile and his eyes are staring straight through me.

I pick up the bread and take a bite. The jam is sweet but
the bagel is thick, chewy – and I’m not feeling hungry anyway. I don’t know if
I can manage this, I don’t know if I can swallow the thick bread. I put it back
down and stick to my tea.

“Not good?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I really don’t think I can manage it.”

He stands and walks around the island towards me. “Try some
strawberries?” Picking up a large strawberry, he checks it over and puts it back.
He picks another one up and checks that one over too.

“Open,” he demands.

I open my mouth and he holds the strawberry for me to take a
bite. It’s sweet and juicy and so much more edible than the bagel.

“Is that good?” he asks, smiling.

“Mmm…”

The act has been so tender, so caring, something I’ve never
experienced. I smile at him.

“They’re good for you,” he tells me as I smile.

His beautiful mouth curves into a wonderful grin, that sexy
grin. “That’s better, Alex, you’ve a lovely smile.”

I finish my tea and glance at the clock. It’s still very
early as I clear the plates away, rinsing them off before stacking them in the
dishwasher.

“What are you doing today?” he asks, as he eats yet more
strawberries.

“I don’t know. I don’t feel like going to the hotel. I don’t
feel like doing anything.” I sigh. “I feel like… like although a huge weight
has been lifted, like I’ve just closed the door on a really bad place, that I
need to move on, but can’t. Even though I’m away from the hostility and trauma
I don’t see the brightness yet, but I want to.” I place my hand across my mouth
for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I want to move forward, I
have
to
move forward.”

My head is down and I hold onto the island and bear my
weight down, pushing. “I have to move on… I know I do, but how?”

James comes up behind me and puts his arm around my waist.
He pulls me close and gives me the most delicious hug, his chin on the top of
my head, the smell of him, the softness of his shirt… I could melt right now,
melt right into him. 

“You
can
do this, Alex, you can – this isn’t the end,
this is the beginning. The beginning of your new life,” he whispers.

I don’t know how to act, what I should be doing. Shit, I
don’t even know how I should behave with a man, not really anyway. Should I tell
him to go? Tentatively, I turn and put my arms around him and hug back. He’s so
firm and warm, so comforting, like a happy place. I look up at him and his
beautiful mouth as it turns into a smile. He places a gentle kiss on my
forehead and pulls me closer, then takes my mouth, taking me completely by
surprise, but the kiss is gentle and sweet, I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed
like this. His tongue flicks my bottom lip and I open for him. He explores my
mouth and I moan. I moan like only a woman starved of love for so long can, I’m
greedy for him, desperate to be loved, to be adored and worshipped.

I pull away slightly but he pulls me back. I can feel his
erection straining against his fly as he kisses me again. His hand moves around
from my waist to my front and he slides it gently into my robe, placing his
palm on my breast. Through my t-shirt I can feel him rubbing his thumb over my
nipple, working the hard little pearl, and I moan again.

“These… are stunning,” he grumbles against my cheek.

I pull away. “I can’t, James.” I’m flustered. “You must be
ten years younger than me!” I pause. “The other women, the girls that come to
see you…”

“So, what difference does that make?” He’s being firm again.
“None of them are serious, they come to me for one thing and, well, I haven’t
seen anyone since the day you showed up.” He looks down at me. “Alex, you did
feel the attraction, from the moment we first met. Didn’t you?” he says, so
quietly.

What do I say? “Yes,” I whisper back.

He pulls me close again. “You don’t want this?” he asks.

 “I don’t know, it’s been so long,” I mumble. I pause and
look down to the floor, the top of my head pressing against his hard chest. “I
want to feel loved. I want some attention.” It’s what I crave, what’s been
missing for so long.

He puts his hand under my chin and lifts my face to meet
his. He stares into my eyes. “Let me worship your body. Come with me.” His
voice is a low growl.

He clasps my hand and leads me from the kitchen and up the
stairs to my room, closing the door with his bare foot whilst still holding
onto my hands. He looks down at me, into me, and moves both of his hands around
my waist, pulling me close, running his hand gently up and down my back.

“You do want this, don’t you?” he whispers.

“I think so, I… Yes, I do.” I’m saying the words, and I do
want this but at the back of my mind I’m hoping that this won’t interfere with
our working relationship. “James, I don’t even remember what I should do!” 

He smiles, “Take your robe off.” His tone is firm yet
sensual, almost a whisper.

I undo the belt and let the robe fall, pooling at my feet.
I’m stood there in my t-shirt and knickers.

He kisses me again deeply, places his hands on either side
of my face, holding me tenderly. Leaving one hand on my cheek, he moves the other
gently down the side of my neck and further down towards my breast. He holds me
tenderly through my t-shirt. Pulling away from me, he stands back and grasps
the hem of my t-shirt. He pulls it up and off over my head and I feel totally
exposed, standing before James in nothing but my white cotton knickers. “You’re
stunning,” he whispers. I look at the floor. I don’t agree with what he says,
at all.