Scarred Beauty Page 2

  They talked about everything, the restaurant buzzing around them. Isaac didn’t pay attention to the waiters as they served coffee and then dinner. The day went by as Isaac and Brad got to know each other. The first meeting was a huge success.

  Brad’s phone beeped during a conversation. Isaac watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and went to delete the call.

  “Shit. I’ve got to take this,” Brad said and made to get up.

  “Don’t worry. Answer your call. I won’t be offended.”

  “Hi Noelle. ... I’m perfectly fine. Yes, I’ve met him. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. All right....”

  Isaac could hear the concern Noelle had for his brother. He wondered what the woman was like. Did she have a family of her own to care about? Brad started laughing, shaking his head.

  “I’ve got to go. I’ll be home soon. Take care, bye.” He ended the call. “I’m sorry about that. We usually call each other on a regular basis to make sure we’re okay.”

  “She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

  “She is. You’d like her, but I doubt very much you’d meet her.”

  “How come?”

  “She rarely leaves the apartment, especially during the day. I don’t want to talk about it as she’s my best friend, and her problem isn’t a part of this.”

  “Then by all means, continue with what we talking about before.”

  He listened to Brad talk some more and spoke with him. The problems in his own life were irrelevant as he sat drinking coffee and talking with his estranged half-brother.

  ****

  Noelle placed the phone back into the cradle and stared out across the dark night skyline. The lights were switched off in the apartment, so she couldn’t see her reflection in the glass. Opening the doors on the fortieth floor, she stood on the patio and looked down at the street below. She saw people walking around, oblivious to their life being observed. Sighing, Noelle folded her arms over her chest and walked back inside the house. When Brad hadn’t phoned to say he was okay, she’d been worried half to death.

  For the past three years, they’d been each other’s strength. She’s met him when she was seventeen, in the last year of high school. He’d been sat in an alley way as she walked past. Her gut had told her to stop when she walked in front of him, so she had knelt down. He’d stared at her with a vacant look. Her scars had meant nothing to him. His addiction problems meant nothing to her. Together they’d survived their painful pasts.

  They could depend on no one but each other.

  Winter was fast approaching, and soon she wouldn’t be able to leave the house without the added comfort of a hat, gloves and scarf. She picked up her romance book and began reading. The storyline was about a full figured woman who couldn’t find a man and ended up finding love through an escort service. The story was hot with massive amounts of tension and a gripping plot. The sex was dirty, which made her yearn to be the woman on the receiving end of such passion.

  Putting the book down, she glanced around the room and saw Brad’s laptop sitting closed at the table. Curiosity biting at her, Noelle moved to the screen and pressed a few buttons.

  In no time the internet was up, the search engine ready for her to type. She placed the book by the side of her and typed in some words. Male escort service.

  The search bought up a huge list of sites. She clicked on a few and gasped at the naked pictures on some of them.

  Being a virgin and never having kissed a man before, Noelle stared in wonder at some of the women being fucked on the screen before her. The only knowledge she had was the stuff she’d watched in movies and the television, along with the reading of the erotic romance books. Licking her lips, she searched through all of the sites available. No man had ever looked at her with pure, naked longing. For once she wanted to be able to be near a man and know what it felt like to be touched, to be cared for, and maybe even to be loved by a man.

  Would she ever feel a man’s hands caressing her body? Touching and tasting her, spending the time to get to know what her body liked, the way they did in her books? She jumped back from the laptop and closed the windows she had open. Her heart pounding, she waited for Brad to appear in the doorway.

  “Hi. Sorry I took so long,” he said as he pulled his coat off. “It’s bloody cold out there. You didn’t have to wait up.”

  She glanced at the clock and saw it was after nine.

  “I wanted to make sure you got back in one piece.”

  He gave her a twirl. “I’m here, and I survived.”

  Noelle went into the kitchen and made them both a cup of tea. “With how long you’ve been gone, does that mean it was a huge success?”

  “Yes. We don’t know much about each other, but we are going to see if we can form a relationship together.”

  “I’m so happy for you,” she said. She stirred the cup and handed him one. Her hands were shaking slightly from the images she’d seen.

  “You’re looking a little flushed. Are you feeling okay?” he asked and reached out to touch her head. She pulled away, not wanting him to touch her.

  “I’m feeling a little tired. I think I’ll go to bed if that’s all right with you,” she said. Going to her room would be the only way for her to calm down her erratic thoughts.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She nodded, leaned up to kiss his cheek, took her cup and book and disappeared into her room.

  What would Brad think if he knew what she’d been searching for?

  Closing her eyes and shaking her head at the stupidity of her thoughts, she lay across her bed and opened up the page of her book.

  After a few minutes of reading about a virgin being fucked, she lost interest. Staring at the ceiling above her bed, she allowed the pain to come to her. The pain of knowing no man would ever love her. She wished that just once, one man would look at her and want her to be with him. The tears she kept locked up fell from her eyes in a trail down her face. For so long she’d sat and cried about her predicament. Paying a man to pretend to care was the lowest form of self-pity, but wouldn’t paying someone to care for an hour be better than living a life without any form of love?

  Brad was her best friend, and she wouldn’t dream of asking anything from him that he could not give. He was gay, and he was in love with someone else.

  She heard him move around outside the door, but her tears were as silent as before. When he called her name, she didn’t answer. Speaking at the same time as crying would be a disaster. The lump in the back of her throat made it hard to breathe. He moved away from her door, and she could give in freely to her emotions.

  ****

  Brad watched as she left the kitchen. She looked flushed and embarrassed, two combinations he’d never associated with Noelle. He grabbed his cup and went to the laptop still set up on the table. He frowned as he noted the internet connection was still hooked up. Turning the screen saver off, he checked the history to see if Noelle had been using his laptop. What he saw had him frozen to the spot.

  He went to her door without thinking about what he’d found.

  Knocking on her door, he called her name. When she didn’t answer, he took a breath and went back to check out the sites she’d been looking at.

  The escort agency had him in a panic. Did she really need to seek out male companionship? The question was a stupid one. He knew their friendship would never go beyond the bounds they’d set. He loved her as a friend, but he didn’t find women attractive in that way. The man he’d seen while they’d been shopping together with Noelle, who had been checking her out only to recoil had been a shock to Brad. No other person had responded like him when they’d seen her face.

  His heart ached for her. Closing down the laptop, he made his way into his own room. Lying on his bed he sat and thought about her situation. How would he feel knowing there wouldn’t be many people who would love him with scars?

  Putting himself in Noelle’s shoes had opened his eyes up to the dail
y life she led. She worked inside a studio they had decorated together. Clients came to the apartment to buy her paintings, and he sorted through the transactions. At twenty years old, Noelle was one of the most talented artists he’d ever met. Her drawings bought to life so much emotion, that simply staring at a drawing made him believe he was looking into her soul. She refused so much in her short life. There were people out there who would love to get to know her, but she cut them off. She wouldn’t go out and live her life. Brad didn’t know how to get her to see past her scars and embrace the life she could lead.

  Rolling over he glanced at the only picture he had of her. They stood together, their first Christmas inside the apartment. She’d not long turned eighteen, while he’d been approaching his twenty-first birthday. Her hair was pulled back, the scars a light red across her cheek. Later, after the picture was taken, he’d learnt how she’d gotten the scars, which was why she refused to drive.

  Even as she smiled in the picture there remained in her face something reserved as if she was frightened to let go.

  The woman who’d helped him to get his life back was screaming for someone to love her. Only she wanted to find it herself.

  Closing his eyes, he allowed sleep to claim him. In time he’d find a solution to their problem.

  Chapter Three

  Noelle woke early the following morning. The inspiration for a new piece of work hit her. She put on her painting clothes, put the coffee machine on, and went to her studio. The only time she went in her studio was when she wanted to paint. Going into the room when she felt nothing achieved nothing with her day.

  She placed a new canvas on the easel and prepared her brushes and paints before she began to paint. Then she let her inspiration take her on her roller coaster ride. The reds and oranges mixed together in a fiery scene of passion and rage, her innermost sensations as she thought of the pain and hurt of her current situation. She knew while painting the picture, she wouldn’t sell it. These paintings were for her to keep or to destroy.

  Not long after the car accident which left her with the scars, she’d begun to paint. Her therapist at the time had said it would be a way to see inside to her thoughts and feelings, to see the true depth of her character. The moment she began to paint, the therapy visits were out the window. She refused to sit and talk to someone who didn’t get her.

  This was the one room that Brad didn’t enter. He would knock on the door and wait for her to allow him into the room. She heard him moving around outside. Checking her watch, she saw it was past seven. He would be getting ready for work. The energy she had felt at the beginning zapped out of her. Staring at the canvas filled with colour, she nodded her head at her progress before leaving the room.

  Brad sat at the kitchen counter eating out of a bowl.

  “You don’t want pancakes today?” she asked. Part of their agreement had been she would do all of the cooking.

  “Not today. I’ve got stuff to do. What do you have planned?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing much. I think I’ll spend most of my day painting.”

  He nodded his head. Smiling at him, she sipped the coffee she poured for herself.

  “Will you be home on time tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I was hoping to see Ben before I came home.”

  Ben was the guy he’d hurt during the years he was using narcotics.

  “Is he talking to you yet?” she asked.

  “We’ve gotten past the slamming door in face stage. I was a wanker to him, but the problem is I can’t remember everything I did when I was in one of those states. I’m scared in case I did something I don’t want to know about.”

  The conversation had taken a dark turn, and she saw the pain he was in.

  “He’ll come round. You’ve just got to show him the guy you were has nothing to do with who you are now.”

  He nodded his head, the bowl with his cereal in it forgotten. This is why they got on so well. Their pains were quite similar because of their damaged pasts. “I’m going to head for work. I’ll call you later.”

  Noelle saw him out of the apartment, careful to make sure no one saw her.

  The moment she closed the door, loneliness consumed her. She went and stood on the threshold into her studio, and the paints and canvases called to her. Only as quickly as the inspiration hit, the desperation to run away from her painting gripped her. The hold this world had on her was killing her little by little. Before the accident she used to love going outdoors. She would run or walk. Gazing around at the scenery was once a passion to her. But no more. There were only so many incidents of children pointing or adults gasping that she could cope with.

  Moving back to the kitchen she pulled out the ingredients to make her lemon loaf cake, the one cake which felt like a treat but was wonderful to make.

  She grabbed her mixer, set up the paddle blade and spooned in the butter and sugar. Measuring out her flour, baking powder, and bicarbonate of soda she put them in a bowl. When the butter and sugar were mixed she added two eggs in, gradually followed by spoonfuls of floor.

  It was the same cake she’d made many times before, and she still felt the calming effect it had on her. The phone rang in the background. She ignored the siren call of the outside and continued to work.

  While the cake baked, she cleaned her mess. For twenty minutes, she hadn’t had the time to think about her lonely existence. The morning no longer looked promising.

  ****

  Across the city, Isaac sat in his office looking over reports, which were giving him a headache. His friend Clark was telling him how much hot ass he’d missed the night before. He didn’t care. He loved the time he had spent with Brad.

  Tapping his pen on the work surface, he glanced at the time. Lunchtime was approaching, and he hoped Clark would leave. He wanted to take his lunch break. Work was no longer satisfying him. When his secretary phoned through to say a man claiming to be his brother was waiting to see him, Isaac dismissed Clark and waited for the other man to enter.

  He didn’t know why he felt so attached to the other man. Maybe it was only that he liked the thought of having a brother, even if it was a younger one, out there. Being an only child had made life quite difficult growing up. Having his mother’s undivided attention had felt smothering at times. Thinking about his mother reminded him not to tell her about his recent friendship. Over the years, his mother had managed to get over what his father did, but he still couldn’t bring himself to forgive the man.

  “I didn’t think you were in contact with your brother,” Clark said.

  “I wasn’t until yesterday.”

  “What would your mum say?”

  “She’s not finding out. Leave, Clark.”

  Clark got up and left his office. Seconds later, Brad walked in.

  “Wow. This is where you work?” he asked.

  “I own the place.”

  “Yeah. I know. Dad’s place is nothing like this.”

  Isaac knew. He’d spent a great deal of time making sure his dad didn’t amount to anything more than what he was.

  “I wasn’t expecting you today,” he said as he signed off a few more contracts.

  Brad sat down in the seat opposite the desk.

  “I’ve got a favour to ask,” Brad said.

  Isaac sat back in his office chair, intrigued by the rapidly changing events unfolding before him. “What could I possibly help you with?”

  “You’re my brother—”

  “Half-brother.”

  “But you’re still my brother. My friend is looking for some companionship. Male company, to feel close to someone. Her circumstances have left her feeling as if she can’t be with anyone without consequences.”

  “Are you talking about Noelle?” Isaac asked. The woman intrigued him from the description Brad had given him. The women in his social circles rarely bought anything but annoyance to him. Most were gold-diggers hoping to catch a rich husband.

  “Yes.”

 
“Why doesn’t she have any male companionship?” Isaac asked.

  “There was an accident ten or so years ago, and most men can’t seem to get past that. Or she won’t let them anyway. She has some scars which keep her at a distance. She rarely leaves our apartment. I deal with the selling of her paintings.”

  “She’s an artist?”

  “Yes. One of the best considering she’s only twenty.”

  Isaac had never heard of an artist named Noelle.

  “Look, can I just come out and ask for this favour no matter how stupid it sounds?” Brad asked.

  “I’m waiting.” Very few men would talk to him with a frustrated tone. Isaac found Brad’s approach amusing.

  “For one night will you play at being an escort?”

  He saw the other man was serious and burst out laughing. Isaac Welch was a multi-billionaire businessman. He didn’t pretend at being anything.

  “I’m being serious. Noelle means a great deal to me, but she’s had one bad experience and keeps herself away from any chance of pain. For one night all I ask is you sit, talk, and cuddle a little. I don’t know, but let her down slowly and leave. She needs this, and I’m willing to provide it for her.”

  Sitting back in his seat, Isaac thought about the offer.

  “How do you know she won’t know who I am?” he asked. Everyone in the world knew who he was. Being in the social pages was an everyday occurrence to him.

  “She doesn’t. None of the papers get into the apartment, and wealth means shit to her. She wouldn’t know who you are. Just don’t say your name is Welch, and she’ll have no clue as to who you are.”

  Isaac didn’t know what was worse, the suggestion his brother had made or the fact he was considering it.

  Shaking his head in denial, he said, “The whole thing is ludicrous and unfair. You shouldn’t be doing this to a woman you care about.”

  “It is because I care that I’m asking the only person who I feel I can trust. There is no one else in this world that I know besides ex-abusers like me. You’re older. You’ll care.”