Mr Rickman [Sequel to Mr Americano] - An ALAN RICKMAN fanfic

Chapter 10 - Wrapped in silk

So excited to share this one with you! I've been working on this one for a while, polishing it off until it was juuust right. [MATURE rating for this one, and well...the whole fic really :P ) 

Hope you like it and that you're enjoying the festive period so far if you celebrate! It's been a very busy week for me, but I was finally able to polish this chapter off and get it posted. 

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The dress I had felt a million dollars in hangs on the back of the bathroom door – sad, abandoned with what I hadn't noticed until now – a splash of blue from my diamond cocktail. I'm standing in what has to be one of the most beautiful hotel rooms I have ever been in, complete with a Queen sized bed, big luxurious white rugs, slick under-lighting and the most romantic view of London from thirty-five stories up. Mesmerising – the epitome of glitz, and yet nothing gleamed as brightly as it should.

Alan and I were supposed to return to our room this evening tipsily flirtatious with every intention of sumptuous sex, yet here I am after a public dispute, alone in a deluxe suite in floods of tears. The way Alan sent me here makes me feel like a naughty girl confined to my room until I am later addressed, when in my eyes, he is the one who needs addressing. Who on earth was that woman?

There is a not a chance I'm being made to feel guilty for the way I acted, and so I sourly bake my bitter thoughts ready to unleash every question in the book when he returns.

My thoughts fizzle over like an angry hot pan imagining him conversing with the viper women. I'm sure she is nuzzling up to him enjoying every second of it calculatedly placing her hands on his shoulders whilst he leans in to be heard over the 1AM music.

Yes, it's 1am and there's still no sign of him, no call, no message. I refuse to be the one to do so, and so I seethe, wrapped in fluffy white bathrobe concealing my white lingerie that remains, worn as a symbol of hope, although somewhat begrudgingly.

.........................

Alan returns quietly at 1:45AM, suit jacket over his arm and his top shirt button undone having loosened his tie. He hangs up his suit jacket with his back to me without a word – his calmness inducing a bitter taste that I cannot swallow...

"So who is she?"

"Haven't the foggiest..." he answers, mono.

"How can you say that? She had your bloody phone number!"

"Yes, through a friend of a friend I expect."

"And you're not going to do anything about it? According to her she has a lot more than that...You two 'have a history together..."

Alan rolls his eyes, "Come on Rebecca, are you that gullible that you're going to rise to the bait of a drunken accusation?"

I stand firm.

"Booze is an antidote for truth! Was it someone in your past? Tell me. You never talk about your past when it comes to women. I want to know who she is."

Alan sighs, his eyes wavering as he sits down on the bed to take off his shoes after a long evening.

"Noo-One," he enunciates.

I stand before him, my arms now flailing out in frustration.

"Then where is her recollection coming from?"

"She was probably there, doesn't mean she had anything to do with me."

"But don't you remember...you stayed at The Mayfair," I mock.

Alan looks me dead in the eyes, impatiently.

"No, lets get this straight...I stayed at the Mayfair because the whole production team stayed at The Mayfair. I certainly don't remember her...as you heard me saying, which you're choosing to completely ignore because you would rather twist this into something it's not."

"Why the hell is she telling me that you and her have a history and she's been tugging at your dick...!"

Alan sits up right, eyes burning into mine with severity.

"Because she's a cheap tart who if you didn't notice I tried to steer away from, but you...you had to take it that little bit further and show me up in front of the entire bloody room. You know how I feel about these public displays of yours. I thought you were over this nonsense."

"She was all over you, insulting you, insulting me! She knew exactly what she was doing, sliming around you. You just took it and let her continue." I take a pause before dropping another bomb. "Maybe you were secretly enjoying it."

Alan shoots me an incredulous look, flames licking dangerously in his amber eyes.

"How old do you think I am? Too old to be playing childish fucking games, and as for her insulting me...That's mighty rich when you're standing there accusing me of God knows what."

"I know what women think of when they're in your company."

The charisma, the charm, the good looks, all wrapped up silkily with a voice that could make even the modest of women wet.