Desire a Donovan

by A. C. Arthur

  Dion cursed, his fists clenching at his sides.

  “I’ve got to find Lyra” was all he said before moving through the crowd of people.

  Chapter 19

  “Excuse me a moment,” Lyra said stepping away from Regan and Camille, who were still standing on the balcony where they’d been talking for the past twenty minutes.

  These shoes were killing her feet, and Lyra needed a slight reprieve from the endless fashion talk. She moved through the entryway where they’d first come into the ballroom and down a small hallway to the bathroom, pushing through the door without hesitation. After using the facilities, washing her hands and fixing her makeup, she sat on one of the lounge chairs in the front of the restroom and slipped out of her shoes. Looking down, she sighed at how such a beautiful creation, five-inch-heeled silver strappy sandals that had the barest hint of sparkle on them, could be so painful. With a groan she let

  her toes uncurl and appreciated the moment of silence.

  It didn’t last long.

  “Aren’t you a sight?” a female voice taunted.

  Positive the person wasn’t talking to her, Lyra cracked one eye open. The second she saw the red satin draped over a luscious figure, dark eyes and even darker hair hanging across one shoulder in a seductive array of curls, she sat up.

  “Do I know you?” Lyra asked, even though she had a pretty good idea just who this attractive woman was.

  “You certainly know my man” was her reply.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t play coy. It’s not cute, especially not on you,” she said, coming closer to stand in front of Lyra.

  Feeling a little intimidated, Lyra stood, even though without her heels she wasn’t quite eye to eye with the woman, or should she say Katrina Saldana.

  “You think you’ve got him don’t you?” Katrina asked.

  “If you’re talking about Dion, you should know that nobody has him. Ever. He’s his own man.”

  Katrina nodded, folding her arms over her chest. “I have him and something else you don’t,” she stated.

  Bending over but still keeping her eye on Katrina, Lyra slipped her feet back into her shoes, feeling a lot better now that she was taller. “Look, whatever was between you two is over. I don’t have time to conversate over the past.”

  She moved to walk away but Katrina grabbed her by the arm.

  “Oh, don’t think you’re getting off that easy. I have a few things to say to you, little miss thing.”

  “My name is Lyra.”

  “Your name should be trashy wannabe.” Katrina laughed. “Did you really think Dion was going to get rid of all this for you? You’re not in his league, not by a long shot. It would make sense for you to just go back to the hood where you’re from.”

  Something about the way she’d said that last sentence had Lyra looking closely at this woman. She had the audacity to call Lyra a wannabe when everything about her screamed fake, from her painted glue-on nail tips to the breasts that just about fell out of the halter of her gown to the lashes that were extraordinarily long and curled.

  “You don’t know anything about me,” Lyra shot back.

  “Oh, don’t I? Your boyfriend has loose lips,” she said waiting a beat for Lyra to understand who she was talking about. “Especially in bed.”

  “Tramp!” Lyra said, and took another step to leave.

  “He told me about your poor drug-addicted mother. He really only tried to help her, you know. A quick death is much better than the prolonged drug use, wouldn’t you say?”

  The muted pink-and-gold décor of the restroom swirled in Lyra’s vision. What was this bitch trying to say?

  “I’m leaving,” she said instead.

  “Yes, you should leave. You should go and try to save your mother again. She’s here you know, down the hall guzzling all the booze she can for free. I think she’ll be passing out in another few minutes or so. Not a real good look for the Donovans on their big night, is it?”

  Lyra didn’t say another word, just headed for the door.

  “Oh, and Lyra?” Katrina called from behind.

  “When you’re scraping your mother up off the floor, say goodbye to Dion. There’s no way he’s going to stay with you when he finds out I’m carrying his child.”

  Lyra’s feet couldn’t move fast enough. The hemline of the dress she’d loved so much now swirled around her legs, trapping her so that she couldn’t go as fast as she wanted to. The bars were only set up in the pre-function room. Inside the ballroom drinks were passed on trays throughout the sit-down meal and now the music hour. If her mother was here, Katrina had been right, she’d be at the bar.

  Lyra’s goal was to get her mother out of here as soon as possible. The last thing the Donovans needed was another scandal because of her. But as she moved her heart hammered in her chest, her temples throbbing at Katrina’s parting words. Was she really carrying Dion’s baby?

  A loud voice tore her attention away from the question.

  “I ain’t finished yet,” the slurred female voice said.

  Lyra almost groaned with dread. “Excuse me,” she said, pushing past a couple more people.

  “Ma’am, I think you’ve had enough,” a male voice was now saying, raised above the slight murmur of conversation.

  Lyra moved faster.

  “You don’t know me. I can shrink as much as I want to,” Paula stated loudly.

  “I’m calling security,” the man, Lyra could now see was one of the hosts hired by the Donovans, said determinedly.

  “It’s all right,” she said, putting a hand on the man’s arm to stop him from going to do just that. “I’ll take her home.”

  “But Ms. Anderson,” he started to say. “This is a situation for security to handle. You should go back into the ballroom.”

  Lyra frowned momentarily. He thought she belonged in the ballroom with the rest of these rich and classy people, while Paula, her mother—who’d mysteriously found another glass—was letting the liquid slosh over the rim as she tried to hold herself upright and drink at the same time.

  “No. This is my situation to handle,” Lyra said slowly. “Come on,” she said to her mother, taking the glass from her hands.

  “That’s mine. Get your own!” she exclaimed.

  “No! You’ve had enough,” Lyra said, wrapping her arm around Paula’s waist. “We’re leaving.”

  “I ain’t ready to leave.”

  “I didn’t ask you if you were ready. You’re either leaving with me and I’ll take you home, or the police are coming up here to haul you away in cuffs. And I’m not bailing you out of jail.”

  “You ain’t my mama.”

  “No. I’m not,” Lyra said, attempting to steer Paula toward the hallway and the elevators.

  “I’m your mama, you should be listening to me.”

  “Yes, you are my mother,” Lyra said grimly, still trying to get them away from the party. This was her mother and this was her life. There was no use in her trying to convince herself any differently.

  “Lyra!”

  She heard her name and turned at the voice.

  “What happened?” Dion asked.

  Behind him was Sean, looking angry as he saw Paula.

  “Nothing. Go back inside. I’ll take care of her,” she said.

  “I don’t need nobody to take care of me,” Paula replied leaning into Lyra’s back. “I can get home by myself. Let me hold your keys.”

  Lyra did have her car keys in her purse. While she’d come to the ball with Dion, he’d brought her car over earlier today. He was taking the Lakefields directly to the airport after the ball, a favor to his mother. So Lyra was going to drive directly to his condo and wait for him.

  “I’ll drive you home,” she said to h
er mother through clenched teeth.

  “No. I’ll take her home,” Dion said stepping closer to them.

  Lyra put up her hand stopping him. “I have to do this. You guys go back in before she makes any more of a scene. No more bad press, remember,” she said, imploring Sean to get Dion out of here.

  “Let her go,” Sean said, grabbing Dion’s arm.

  “Let me go, dammit!” Paula yelled, snatching Lyra’s purse from her shoulder. “I’m sick of all y’all stuck-up asses!”

  Paula had grabbed the purse and spun away before Lyra could grab her.

  “I’ve gotta go,” she said, looking up to Dion. “Maybe you should go and find Katrina. She has something to tell you.”

  “Katrina? She’s here?”

  Lyra didn’t wait to answer his question. Her chest hurt, her head hurt. The room was spinning as if she’d been the one drinking. She turned and ran to the elevator slamming the palm of her hand into the button praying it would appear quickly.

  Chapter 20

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Dion asked Katrina the moment he turned around and saw her standing there wearing a smirk that spoke volumes.

  “I was invited” was her reply. “Besides, we need to talk.”

  Dion nodded. He wanted to talk to her all right. “Out here,” he said, nodding toward the balcony. When Sean gave him a concerned look Dion nodded at him, too, letting him know he had this under control.

  “I’ll be right here,” Sean told him with a warning glance to Katrina.

  “Oh, what’re you, his bodyguard now? That’s funny, the strong, silent Donovan trying to protect the gorgeous, rowdy one,” Katrina said with a laugh.

  Dion grabbed her by the arm. “Let’s go.”

  “Don’t manhandle me,” she said when they were out on the balcony and she could pull out of his grasp. “This is all your fault.”

  “My fault? How do you figure that?”

  “You’re the one sleeping with the help when you know you should have left her and her trashy mother in L.A.”

  “Really? And where should I have left you, Katrina? Swinging on that pole with your breasts out for everyone to see? Or maybe I should have left you at the bar smiling over a drink you couldn’t afford to pay for?”

  For a second she seemed startled. Maybe it was his tone. Dion rarely yelled. He had a temper but didn’t lose it with women, usually only in the boardroom. But this female had gone too far.

  “I’m better for you than she is,” Katrina said, lifting her head higher.

  “Why, because you’re used to sleeping with rich men for money?”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m some cheap slut. I offered you my heart, my soul. Everything, and you tossed it away for her!” Katrina was screaming now, her hair blowing wildly in the cool breeze that had just seemed to pick up.

  “I never asked you for anything. In fact, I never wanted anything from you but what I got. It was sex, Katrina. That’s all you were good for.”

  “You bastard!” she said, lifting a hand to slap him.

  Dion caught her wrist, squeezing it until she gasped. Then he pulled her close to his chest and glared down into her face. “You listen to me. I know exactly what you’ve done. I have pictures of you and Stanford making a buy, then delivering that poison to Paula Anderson. It’s enough to get you put away for attempted murder.”

  “What?” she gasped.

  “Then I have information on you extorting money from men. Another couple of years you can spend behind bars.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You don’t know anything. Let me go!”

  “Oh, I’m going to let you go, all right. I’m going to let you go and you’re going to walk back into that ballroom where the police are waiting to take you away.”

  “That’s impossible!”

  Dion pushed her away from him, watched her stumble and didn’t give a damn if she fell flat on her ass. “You haven’t learned a thing in all your research of me. Anything’s possible when you’re a Donovan,” he told her, then stalked off the balcony.

  He hadn’t really called the police, but Trent was here, and he was a licensed private investigator with an active investigation on Katrina. He could take her into custody, then deliver her to the police station. And Dion could go after Lyra.

  * * *

  “I can shrive,” Paula said, leaning over the console in Lyra’s silver Audi A7.

  “You can barely see. Get over there and put your seat belt on,” Lyra said angrily. She was pissed that her mother was yet again drunk and that she’d had the audacity to show up at the ball. And she was livid with Dion for sleeping with such a horrid slut as Katrina Saldana. And she was disappointed in herself for believing that finally she would have her happily ever after. Katrina was probably right, Dion wouldn’t change. And if Katrina was carrying his baby, Lyra didn’t even want to deal with that type of baby-mama drama, which was almost definitely promised in this case.

  “You should have stayed wherever you’ve been hiding out these past few days,” she told her mother.

  “What? You can’t talk to me like that. I’m the mutha.”

  “You’re something, I’ll say that.” Tears stung Lyra’s eyes as she drove, her hands sweating over the steering wheel.

  “You checked out of the hospital when you told me you’d stay. I looked for you and looked for you. I should have known you’d be all right. And now you show up here to get drunk. How could you embarrass me like that?”

  “You. You. You. Always thinking of yourself. Brat. That’s what you are, a brat,” she said, spitting across the dashboard as she did. “Let me out of this car. I can walk.”

  “Dion said you could take care of yourself. I should have listened,” Lyra spoke more to herself then to Paula.

  “You still hung up on that boy with the cute face. He ain’t no good for you.” Paula reached out a hand and slapped it on Lyra’s bare shoulder. “Now that other dude you was sleeping with, that Mike, he’s got class. And he’s got connections, too. Got me some stuff so good I felt like I was flying for days.”

  “What?” Lyra said looking over at her mother. “Are you talking about Mark?”

  “Mark. Mike. Mr. Magoo. Whoever. He got some good stuff. You know what, just drop me off at his house. I need him to hook me up again.”

  “When exactly did Mark hook you up?” Lyra asked, fear and dread gripping her heart in a tight grasp.

  “It wasn’t his fault that night. I had some other stuff, too. Them docs don’t know nothing. I wasn’t no poisoned. Dumbasses.”

  “Mark gave you drugs that night I came to get you?”

  “He knows how to take care of a woman. You ask me, that’s the one you need to be chasing. Not too-good-rich-boy back there.” She waved a hand and it smacked against the window. “It’s hot in here, roll this window down.”

  “I can’t believe this. Mark,” Lyra whispered as she turned another corner.

  “I said roll this window down,” Paula was saying, banging on the window.

  But Lyra wasn’t paying her request any attention. Lyra was thinking of all that had just happened, all that had been happening since she came home. Katrina said she slept with Mark. Paula just said Mark gave her drugs. Who the hell was Mark Stanford and why did he pick her? He was a bastard, that’s what he was! Giving her mother drugs when he knew how long Lyra had been trying to get her clean. And sleeping with that bitch Katrina, too. How dare he have her followed when he was cheating as well as trying to kill her mother.

  “I’m hot!” Paula yelled.

  “Shut up!” Lyra yelled back. “Put your damned seat belt on and shut up! I’m sick of doing this with you, sick of running around in circles over and over again. I’m just tired of it! And this is the last time. Either you decide to get
clean or I’m through with you. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life picking you up off the floor, watching you puke your brains out or almost die in the emergency room. I’m just not going to keep doing this!”

  “Don’t you yell at me!” Paula was reaching over again, this time pushing Lyra’s head to the side. “I’ll beat your ass!” she yelled and pushed Lyra again.

  Lyra elbowed her, trying to push her back. “Put the damned seat belt on like I told you,” she said.

  Paula didn’t listen, just lunged at Lyra again. “I don’t have to listen to you!”

  “You have to while you’re in my car. Sit back!”

  “No! Pull over! Let me out of here! I’ll have you arreshed!”

  “Stop it!” Lyra yelled, the steering wheel slipping through her fingers as she turned her attention from the road to push at her mother again. “Sit down!”

  “No!”

  This time Paula’s entire body came over the console, pushing Lyra back against the seat. Her arms instinctively went up to ward off Paula’s flailing limbs. She felt the car swerve and pushed her feet against the floor hoping she was hitting the break, but it was the gas. The vehicle took off, where Lyra had no idea because she couldn’t see anything past her mother’s small head and screaming mouth.

  “I’m sick of you, too!” Paula was screaming. “Let me out of here!”

  Lyra finally grabbed both her mother’s wrists and pushed her back just in time to hear the screeching of the car tires. Paula screamed and Lyra reached around her to grab the wheel, but her fingers slid off it again. There was more screaming and more swerving and Lyra’s head rang with all the noise. Then there was a loud crash and the tears in Lyra’s eyes seemed to freeze right there. Suddenly Paula wasn’t on top of her anymore and the car wasn’t swerving. She wanted to open her eyes but she couldn’t. They felt wet, not just closed. Her chest hurt and she felt like she should scream again, but couldn’t.

  It was dark. So very dark Lyra felt an edge of panic.

  Then she felt nothing.