by Abby Angel
"You’ll have to be patient," he whispers, his gaze once more wandering far into the distance. "But, with time, I think Jonathan will allow you to prove yourself."
"Do you think I can do it?" I ask him then, a sudden need for approval taking over me. I’ve never been the kind of girl that always needs to be encouraged but, right now, I need Connor’s validation.
Looking back at me, he chuckles softly.
"You can do anything you want, Clarise," he smiles, and I feel… something. I can’t exactly describe it but, somehow, I know that this is a moment I won’t forget anytime soon. Me and Connor, the gentle breeze of Central Park caressing the tall branches and leaves over us, and his words: you can do anything you want. I don’t know if it’s the way he said it, or the way he’s looking at me, but I feel as if I really can do anything.
"I’m glad you’re with us," I tell him, and then we start walking down the path again. In silence. Walking with Connor, I feel a sudden burst of joy taking over me. Without thinking of what I’m doing, I reach for him and grab his arm, not saying a word as I do it. We walk arm-in-arm for a long while, the world around us moving as if in slow-motion. For the first time in months I feel that, somehow, everything will work out.
Connor’s here, and that’s enough.
Connor
Stretching my back as I get out of the taxi, I look up at the cobbled road that leads up to the Donovan mansion. More than just a mansion, it looks like some sort of castle out of a fairy tale. It looms over the whole estate with a kind of ancient pride, its tall towers with narrow windows making it look like a place fit for a king.
Walking around the taxi, I pop the trunk open and take my two briefcases out; the moment I place them on the ground, two servants pop out of nowhere, each one of them taking one of the briefcases.
"There’s no need for that," I tell them, but they just haul my belongings up the cobbled path. With a sigh, I pay the taxi driver and then start making my way up. After Clarise left the Ritz, I knew that the time was right: I had my affairs in order, and it was time I joined the Donovans at their estate. I called Jonathan, told him I was ready to assume my position with the Donovan family... and here I am now.
At the end of the cobbled path I’m on, there’s a large courtyard with a marble fountain in the middle, the sound of the running water like a delicate melody; behind it, there’s a wide stone stairway that leads up to the mansion’s main entrance and, standing at the top of it, is the Donovan family.
Jonathan is in the middle, his greying hair combed to perfection, and he has his wife and son flanking him. My eyes dart to Earl almost immediately, but this time he looks sober and not a drunken mess.
Standing a bit to the side, there’s Clarise; her blonde hair is tied back, and she’s wearing a summery blue dress that ends just above her knees. Her smart eyes seem to twinkle as she sees me come up the stairway, and I feel my heart tightening with each step I take.
"Welcome, Connor," Jonathan says heartily as I get to the top, offering me his hand. I take it in mine, and he shakes it firmly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I’m really glad that you accepted coming here to serve under my family. You have some big shoes to fill."
"I know," I tell him, my heart suddenly feeling heavy as I remember my father. "I’ll do my best, sir."
"Please, call me Jonathan. After all, you’re basically a member of the family now… The least we can do is drop all formality."
"Thank you," I say, and then turn my attention toward his wife. Elegant despite being in her fifties, the female commander of the Donovans still has that poised and confident posture that I remember back from when I used to visit my father. But, despite her rough temperament, she offers me a smile and takes one step forward. I’m about to offer her my hand when she wraps her arms around me, hugging me tightly.
"Welcome, Connor. I know your father would be proud of you right now."
"Thank you," I tell her, having no idea what to say to that. She’s right; my father would be proud if he knew I’d be following in his footsteps, influencing one of the most powerful families in the world. But, if I could, I’d trade all that if it meant I could bring him back. But I can’t of course; such miracles are not for the common mortals.
"Clarise," I say as Mrs. Donovan pulls back from me. Clarise closes the distance between her and I; just like her mother did, she hugs me tightly, and I feel her breasts pressing against my chest in a way that makes a pleasant warmth spread under my skin.
"Earl," I continue, pulling back from Clarise and offering her older brother my hand. He looks into my eyes for a second, and then shakes my hand and gives me a little nod. His adversarial (and drunk) attitude seems to have disappeared, at least for now.
"Shall we?" Jonathan asks me, stepping aside and waving for me to enter through the large double doors that lead into the Donovan home. The moment I step one foot inside the main hall of the mansion, the smell of it brings me back immediately to all those summers I used to spend in here. For a few seconds, it’s almost as if I’m eighteen again, the world is at my feet.
"It’s just like I remember it," I say, looking around the cavernous hall, another large stairway leading the way toward the upper floors. Lining the walls there are a myriad of paintings from the Renaissance, and there are even two full-plate armors from medieval Italy in one corner.
More than being the house of a powerful family from the XXI century, the Donovans’ house always reminded me of a palace from the Italian nobility. Which, of course, makes a lot of sense, despite their family being rooted in the Irish tradition, there’s also a lot of Italian blood in there, and Jonathan has always been fascinated by the power of history.
"Your belongings have already arrived from Rome," Jonathan tells me as he leads the way through a large corridor, stopping in front of a massive oak door. "The servants are preparing the guest house for you as we speak," he continues, pushing the door open and stepping inside.
The room we’ve just stepped inside seems small, but that’s probably because of the large round table right in the middle of it, a thing so massive that it wouldn’t look out of place in a war room.
"So, Connor, before anything, let’s get you up to speed," Jonathan says, pointing at the large folders sitting on the tabletop. He points at one of the chairs and I sit there, opening the folder and allowing my eyes to roam over the documents inside: financial memos, legal briefings, and all the necessary paperwork to keep a financial empire well-oiled.
"I don’t know if you’re familiar with our results in the last fiscal year," Clarise starts, walking up to my side and leaning over, taking one hand to my folder and flipping the pages. She’s so close to me right now that I can feel the warmth of her body, the scent of her perfume making me feel almost too drunk with … desire?
"Sit down, Clarise," Earl tells her with a bored tone of voice. "Connor’s here because we need him to be up to speed. You’ll just end up confusing him even more."
"I know as much about the company as you do," Clarise shoots back in a fraction of a second, and there’s a boiling anger brimming in her words. These two definitely don’t get along. I remember that they used to butt heads when they were younger, but it was never this bad. How did my father deal with these two?
"Earl, give your sister some credit. She’s been studying hard and --"
"Oh, please," Earl cuts his father short, waving one hand in front of his face. "Clarise isn’t ready, father, and that’s that."
Now he’s even butting heads with his father? It seems that more than get up to speed with how their companies work, I must first understand how their family dynamic works.
We spend the next two hours poring over a mountain of paperwork, and we keep at it until Jonathan is satisfied. To be honest, it’s not that difficult to comprehend the Donovans’ operations. The bulk of it is tied to large Wall Street investments, and that’s what I’ve been working on these past few years.
Throughout the meeting, Earl and Clarise keep on
bickering endlessly, and they only stop when admonished by Jonathan. Their mother remains silent through the whole thing, though, just shooting disapproving looks at both Earl and Clarise as their arguments start getting heated.
As for me, even though I did my best to focus on the business at hand … it wasn’t easy. My eyes seemed to be drawn toward Clarise over and over again, the scent of her perfect body crawling up my nostrils and making my mind feel lighter and lighter.
Working with the Donovans is going to be a challenge, and that’s in a lot of different ways.
Connor
"You can leave."
"But, sir, we’re here to --"
"No, there’s no need," I cut the young servant off, offering him a smile and being stern at the same time. Jonathan sent a small army of servants to help me unpack but, aside from the two briefcases I brought with me, I didn’t bring much else from Rome. Still, the servants insisted on carrying everything all the way up to my doorstep and, if I hadn’t stopped them, they’d be unpacking my boxer briefs and tucking them into drawers.
I never cared for stuff like that. I’m a simple man and I think I still know how to unpack my underwear, thank you very much.
"Very well, sir," the young man says with a nod, and then he snaps his heels together and marches off, walking along the small road that snakes up the hill and toward the Donovan mansion. I watch him go up the hill for a while, the sun setting in the horizon and spilling its orange glow over the world, and then I turn toward the door of what’s going to be my home for the foreseeable future.
It’s small and cozy but, despite that, it’s as luxurious as anything I’ve ever seen. Even though Jonathan called it a glorified guest-house during our meeting, I don’t think he was doing it justice. Sure, it’s a one bedroom house, but there’s a jacuzzi in the bathroom, and I even have my own private pool in the back. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind more basic quarters, but Jonathan was having none of that. And I really don’t want to start my relationship with the Donovans by making demands.
Placing my briefcases on top of the bed, I start unpacking them when I hear someone knocking at my door. Sighing, I ready myself to meet the servants once more, but they’re not the ones knocking at my door.
It’s Clarise.
In her hands there’s a small vase with an orchid, its petals of a bright pink. Without saying a word, she smiles at me and pushes the vase into my hands.
"It’s a housewarming gift. I know it’s not much, but…"
"Thank you, Clarise," I tell her, looking down at the orchid. "You didn’t have to walk all the way down here to bring it, though."
"I wanted to," she shrugs, and I can tell that the flowers were nothing more than an excuse for her to come down and see me.
"So, how do you like your new house?" she continues, walking past me and inside the guest-house. She looks around, her eyes scanning the empty walls, and I can almost see the gears turning inside her head as she mentally decorates everything.
"It’s perfect. A bit too much, perhaps… I didn’t need something so luxurious."
"It’s just a guest-house, Connor," she replies off-handedly, and then turns on her heels to face me. "I’m sorry for my brother. He’s a complete asshole," she tells me straight away, and I have to ponder on my words for a second.
"He’s just having a hard time working under your father, I think. Being a Donovan isn’t easy, after all."
"No, it isn’t … but being a member of your Order mustn’t be easy as well. I’ve heard you … have to make vows?" she asks me, and I realize immediately what she’s getting at.
"No," I laugh, "we don’t have to make any kind of vows. We’re just regular people, Clarise."
"Oh, I thought that you --"
"Yes, I took a vow, but it has nothing to do with the Order. It’s more of a... personal vow," I tell her, having no idea why the hell I’m telling her all this. Still, after that quiet moment we shared in Central Park, I can’t help but be crystal clear with her – even if that means telling her all about my decision to keep women at bay.
"Oh," she whispers, a note of disappointment in her voice. There’s silence then, and we just look into each other’s eyes for a long moment, my heart suddenly drumming hard inside my chest. Jesus, why do I feel like this whenever this girl is around?
"Everyone has to face temptation," I start, taking my eyes off hers and filling the silence with my voice. "And facing temptation is what makes someone stronger."
"So, the stronger the temptation… the stronger you get?" she asks me, lowering her voice into a whisper and taking one step toward me. My heart goes from drumming to racing, and I can almost feel it kicking and punching against my ribs in desperation.
"In a way," I whisper back at her, fighting against the urge to let my eyes wander down to her cleavage. But she takes another step toward me, and her scent hits my brain again, acting as fast as a drug … My eyes falls to her lips and, for a moment, I even hold my breath.
"And what’s temptation for you?" she asks me, taking one more step and resting one of her hands over my chest, her small manicured fingers right over my heart.
"Right now ... it’s you," I breathe out, the words escaping my mouth before I can reel them in. Jesus Christ, did I really say it?
"You know what I like about vows, Connor? They’re like rules … and like rules, they’re meant to be broken," she tells me and, with that, she goes on tip-toes and presses her soft full lips against mine, the strawberry flavor of her tongue making me close my eyes by instinct.
I take my hands to her waist then, parting my lips and allowing the tip of my tongue to brush against hers. Boiling blood starts rushing down to between my thighs and then I --
"No," I tell her firmly, pushing her back. "We can’t do this."
She looks straight into my eyes, her parted lips still calling mine, and then she smiles. With a nod and without saying a word, she walks past me and leaves the house, closing the door behind her.
I remain frozen in place for God knows how long, still trying to process what just happened.
Oh, shit. How am I supposed to keep my vows with someone like her around?
Clarise
I still can’t believe what I’ve just done.
Oh, I know what you’re thinking right now; you’re thinking that I’m a very bad girl, and you know what? You’re absolutely right. If being thought of as a bad girl is the price I have to pay to feel Connor’s lips on mine, then you can bet that’s a price I’ll pay willingly.
Sure, fair enough, Connor pulled back from me. But, for a short moment, he actually kissed me back. And that’s got to be a victory; a small one, yes, but a victory nonetheless.
And the taste of his lips… Oh, God, could there be anything sweeter in the universe? I don’t know what it is about him, but there’s a kind of raw manliness to the way he moves, talks and ... kisses. And I can’t help but wonder how raw and manly he acts when doing all the rest.
I’m so dazed as I head up the mansion’s stairway that I don’t even realize that my mother’s standing there at the top, her narrowed eyes following me.
"Where have you been, Clarise?" she asks me right away, and I stop dead in my tracks, returning her gaze and feeling her eyes cutting straight into my soul. My mother might be stern, and she might care more about appearances than all the rest … but she also knows how to read people better than anyone I’ve ever met. Even when I was a little girl, my mother was the one person I couldn’t lie to without being caught. She was born with a bullshit-detector, I think.
"Welcoming Connor," I tell her meekly, trying to think of some bullshit way to worm my way out of this. But, just like I told you, trying to bullshit her is a lost cause. Her built-in lie detector is always at work, and believe me when I tell you that she never turns it off.
"Connor is important to this family," she tells me matter-of-factly, her eyes never leaving mine. "Now that Edward’s gone, we need someone like Connor more than ever. Without him, th
is family will fall apart."
"I know that, mother. And I --"
"Don’t play with fire, Clarise. I really mean it. This family already has enough problems as it is," she continues, and then turns her back to me, stepping inside the house with a hurried step.
"Hang on!" I call after her, hurrying up the stairs and following her into the house. "Don’t try to pin it all on me. It’s not my fault our family is falling apart."
"It’s no one’s fault, Clarise. But things aren’t great, and even you can see that," she tells me, turning on her heels to face me again.
"No one’s fault? Last time I checked, Earl’s constant screw-ups and bad decisions are what’s causing all this chaos." I feel on the verge of exploding right now; my body is tense, and I feel anger welling up inside of me. Yeah, I was a bit of a wreck during my early years, but am I really to be blamed for the state our family’s in right now?
I studied hard at Wharton, much like Earl did, but I’ve always been sidelined because I was seen as someone unreliable. But I’ve changed, and I want to help the family. Unfortunately for me, nobody seems capable of seeing that. It’s all about Earl, Earl, Earl.
Even though he’s made bad decision after bad decision, my parents have always protected him, insisting that it’s all part of the learning process. Of course it’s all part of the learning process! But is Earl really learning anything? Because as far as I’m concerned, all Earl seems to be doing is drinking hard and becoming more of an asshole with each passing day. I mean, the scene he caused at Edward’s funeral … that was shameful. And, aside from chiding him for doing it, my father did nothing else.
"Don’t be late for dinner," my mother finally tells me, ignoring everything I’ve just said. I stand there in the middle of the entrance, just watching her go, and I grit my teeth so hard they might shatter.
