“Oh no darling,” she shakes her head, “It’s all ready.” I love my mum. She’s amazing. She’s goodness personified but she’s also weak. She’s fragile. I spent most of my childhood trying to protect her. Protect her mostly from herself. She’s never been scared to love, but that love that she always gave so freely was never freely returned. My father might have been the only man to ever truly love her but he had died. He’d left her. Left her broken and incomplete. She’d tried to heal herself, mend her broken heart. She’d started hobbies; one after another they all proved incapable of filling the void. As lonely as she always had been, she’d never been alone. She’s had more great loves than I can count but each and every one of them took something away from her until she was just the shell of the woman she once was. I take in the sight of her. She’s thinner than last time I saw her. She looks tired. I wonder if she’s been sleeping. Christmas is always a difficult time for her. Dad died on Christmas Day fourteen years ago. It’s never been an easy time of year for our family. My mother usually spends most of it crying or in her bed, whilst we all try desperately to distract her. I remember a time when it was different. It’s a distant memory. I’m not even sure it’s real or if I’ve just made it up in the back of my mind. But things used to be different. Christmas used to be different. The house would smell like mulled wine and cinnamon. Mum loves cinnamon. We’d always have the biggest tree and a ridiculous number of perfectly wrapped presents under it. But then dad had died, he’d had a heart attack on Christmas morning and after that mum always forgot to get a tree. The first Christmas that followed we didn’t have a tree or presents. Mum spent the whole of two week vacation in bed. After that Jacob started buying the presents. He would save up his allowance all year so that we could have presents even if we didn’t have a tree. I wasn’t much younger than him, barely three years, and so I’d cottoned on quickly and together we acted as Santa for the Contius household. It wasn’t until I was sixteen, four years after my father died that our mother tried to take her own life. Jacob and I were downstairs, it was the middle of the night and I think she thought we were all asleep, but Jacob and I were wrapping presents. Maya had crept down the stairs in search of Santa. We hadn’t heard her. She was so small and quiet, amazingly stealthy for a eleven year old. When she saw us, she cried out in shock. She’d had no idea there was no such thing as Santa. Before waiting for an explanation, she’d ran up the stairs and into our mother’s room. That’s when she found her lying unconscious surrounded by her own blood. I can still recall the sound of her blood curdling scream as I ran up the stairs after her.
“I do love it when you all come to visit me.” She’s so good at putting a brave face on it but her eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks are puffy and I know she’s been crying in the last few hours.
“We love being here,” Maya smiles, pulling our mother into a wide armed hug. I’ve always struggled visiting our mum and a glance at Jacob tells me he finds it hard too. He worries about Maya. He doesn’t want her to fall into our mother’s trappings. He’s scared they are too alike but I think Maya is stronger than Angela Contius.
“Tell me everything,” she’s smiling as she takes her seat at the table. “I want to know everything that is happening in all your lives.” No one could ever say that our mother doesn’t love us, she just hasn’t always loved us enough to live. I’m not sure that’s a bad thing; I wouldn’t want the responsibility of being the sole reason someone is alive. I’d be bound to mess it up.
Maya is the first to respond as she rushes to tell mum all about her new internship. My mum smiles at me across the table gratefully before returning her full attention to Maya.
I dress quickly the day after Boxing Day. I had planned on leaving the night before but my mum had convinced me to stay. She had looked at me with sad, tired eyes and I’d relented even though I knew it meant adding an hour to my commute. Once dressed I make my way to the kitchen; I need caffeine. My mother is already up. She’s wearing a dressing gown and her hair is tied back, “ah darling, can I get you something for breakfast?”
I try to say no, but it’s useless. I accept a slice of toast, “you know mum... you should come visit.”
She nods, “yes...” her voice is quiet, subdued. She’ll never visit, “we could go to the theatre.”
“Yes mum. We could.” I sigh because if there is one thing I hated growing up, it was my mother’s habit of dreaming up things she’d never actually do. She had always been the queen of broken promises. It was never a lie. She’d always had the best intentions. She’d just never been strong enough to fulfil her own dreams never mind anyone else’s. I’d always resented it. When she promised to come on school trips and then never turned up. When she’d promised a holiday to Europe but never bought the tickets. When she’d promised not to quit, but days later had tried to take her own life. It’s not that she doesn’t love us. We’re just not enough to keep her sane.
“Thank you for looking after your sister.” Her words are so soft I barely hear them.
“Always.”
“You always were a good boy, trying to look after everyone.”
I’m grateful when I finally get to work. I need the distraction. Ashley and Lisa are sat opposite me as I sit behind my desk. “Who do you want to delegate your accounts to?”
“Delegate?” I ask Lisa. I had no intentions of delegating.
“You will struggle to manage the company and work on your account projects,” Lisa explains, “we do not know how long Mr Peters will be away.”
She’s right of course. Landon is in L.A. and Aurora still hasn’t woken up. He could be gone for weeks. I consider the other directors. There’s only one that I would trust with my team, “Clara Delos will take responsibility for my accounts. Will you bring her up to speed Ash... after the directors meeting that is.”
Her response is immediate, “yes.”
“Good. Help her. You know the accounts as well as I do.”
“Yes sir.”
“Perhaps keep me in the loop too?” I’m not sure how things are between Clara and me. I certainly can’t rely on her to keep me abreast of any developments when she keeps deciding to hate me.
She smirks at me before nodding her head. She notices everything. I wouldn’t put it past Ashley to know everything about my relationship with Clara. In fact she probably knows more than I do. I’m tempted to ask her but now is not the time to get distracted thinking about Clara.
“What time is it?” I ask as I glance at my watch. It’s almost ten. Time for the meeting. My phone buzzes. One glance tells me it’s Landon. “He wants me to call him when I’ve finished with the directors,” I tell Lisa and Ashley.
They both start typing into their tablets, no doubt adding that phone call to the schedule they both intend to keep me to. I get to my feet and pull my jacket back on. I rub the back of my neck as I try to centre myself. I leave the two assistants in my office and make my way towards the lift. Clara has beaten me there. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt and a purple shirt that is unbuttoned just enough to give me a glimpse of her cleavage. Her hair is down and she’s smiling radiantly. The sight of her calms my nerves slightly. She doesn’t even look at me, “how was your Christmas?” she asks politely.
“Nice enough,” I reply honestly, “you?”
“Christmas like...” her answer is vague, “how are Landon and Aurora?”
“She’s not awake yet,” I tell her.
“Oh dear,” she looks suddenly gloomy, “she missed Christmas... that’s just too sad.”
The journey in the lift is awkward. Even in my nervousness about the directors meeting I can still feel the tension between us. It’s electric. Pure static. I straighten my tie and try to focus my mind. She finally turns to look at me and I see compassion in her eyes. I hate that she sees my weakness. I’m not like my mother. When I find a weakness, a fault in myself I resolve to fix it. She steps towards me in the moving lift, “you are going to do brilliantly.”
“
Y-you think?” I hate how unsure I sound.
“I know.” She sounds sincere. She surprises me when she places her hand on my arm and squeezes it gently. If she’d hoped to calm my nerves she was mistaken. Her touch only ignited a different fire in me. I took a step towards her and pulled her into my arms, “what the hell are you doing?”
“Kissing you,” I tell her huskily. I don’t move. I just hold her there. When she tries to pull away I merely hold her closer. She licks her lip and I can’t take my eyes off her tongue as it moves seductively across her plump lower lip.
“I thought you were going to kiss me,” she’s given up fighting now and is just standing limply in my arms, staring up at me wide eyed. She’s trembling and I can’t help but wonder if she wants me too. Her cheeks are flushed. I lean down to kiss her, my lips brush hers for just a second before the lifts doors open and I have to pull away. That kiss, it isn’t even really a kiss, more like the prelude to a kiss but it is everything it has promised to be. I want more. I take her arm and guide her towards the conference room. Her breathing is harsh and I’m not sure if she’ll be talking to me later after I pulled that stunt.
I hold open the door for her before following her into the empty room. We’re the first ones there. “Clara...” I begin.
“No. Andrew, I don’t want to play any games.”
“It’s not a game,” I’m more sincere than I’ve probably ever been with her.
“It’s always a game with you,” her words resound around the room and leave me feeling hopeless. She takes a seat at the table. I follow suit, trying to think of anything that I can say to make this right but she takes me by surprise when she says, “I really do think you will do a good job.”
“Thank you Clara,” I smile sadly. Normally her praise would make my day but following her previous sentence it just stings.
“Don’t be nervous okay,” she smiles. There’s something familiar about that smile. Something that I don’t like. It’s the look my mother gives me when she puts her hurt aside momentarily to help me. That thought disturbs me enough to make me want to run from the room.
“I’m not,” I lie because I still don’t want her to see my weakness and now I’m worried that I’ve hurt her again. As if the years of torment I inflicted on her in school weren’t enough.
“Sure,” she nods.
I need to change the subject. I need to get this onto safe territory, “how is Maya doing?”
“She’ doing well... she’s working on the Lorrell account.”
“That will interest her,” I grin at her gratefully.
“Yes,” Clara nods happily, “she told me she would like to be a singer. Working the Lorrell Labs account is the closest I can get her to that goal.”
“Thank you,” my voice catches. Her generosity amazes me. I press my fingers to my lips. I’m smiling now and my lips are tingling slightly as I recall the feel of her lips on mine in the lift. I don’t know how I could ever repay her for her kindness to my sister. I want to say more, to thank her again but I can’t because the room is filling now. The TRW directors all grinning and laughing happily as they take their seats. I take a last glance at Clara, using her face to sooth my anxious heart, I breathe deeply before beginning, “as you all know Landon is currently in L.A. following last week’s tragic events. Miss Stone is still in the ICU and Landon plans to stay with her until she is well enough to return home.”
There are nods of understanding. The laughter that had filled the room moments ago is gone now. I’m surprised by how confident my voice sounds. I sound in charge. I can do this, I tell myself. I glance once more at Clara but her focus is on the notebook on the table in front of her, “in the meantime we need to look after Mr Peters’ company for him. John, tell us about the Toys Barrel account.”
John responds in exactly the same way he would to Landon; with a slight stutter and a nervous smile before blurting out an overwhelming amount of information. I smile kindly at him as I try to follow his words.
CHAPTER five: Clara
I impatiently tap my fingers on the conference table in front of me. Andrew glances towards me but I keep my eyes averted. I can’t look at him. I pick up my pen and start fiddling with it as I hear Andrew talk to John. I can’t believe he kissed me. My stomach is churning. I can’t help but wonder what sort of game he is playing. Of course, it has to be a game, everything is a game with Andrew Contius. Before I started working here, I hadn’t thought he had a serious bone in his body. Now, I’m less sure but I’m no less convinced he will never be serious about me. I’m just a play thing; something to tease and laugh at. To Andrew, my sole purpose in life is to keep him entertained. My thoughts are spiralling. They are convoluted and unclear. I hear Andrew calling to me through the muddle of my brain, “Delos, tell us about the Lorrell Labs account.”
His request has caught me off guard enough that I look up at him momentarily before glancing back down at my notepad. I’m blushing. I’m angry that he probably knows how much his kiss has knocked me off centre. He’s probably enjoying this. I breathe in and out before launching into my explanation. “I’ve got Lauren and Kenneth working on it,” I start out. I’m proud to hear my voice is steady. I just wish my heart rate was as calm, “my intern Maya is working alongside them. We have a new model Allison Hudson.”
“What happened to Lucy Tolle?” one of the other directors asks.
Andrew answers for me, “she’s back in rehab.”
There is the sound of a mass sigh throughout the conference room. “Is there anything we can do to help her?” one of the older directors takes me by surprise.
“Not at the moment,” Andrew replies, “we’ve sent a fruit basket. What else Clara?”
“Er, so we’re currently arranging a photo shoot with Allison and Lucas O’Donnell,” I tell them referring to the photographer we have on retainer. “I’m also looking into doing some short videos with some of Lorrell Labs artists...”
“Interesting,” Andrew is nodding his head.
“But Emerson Lorrell is a nightmare to get a hold of,” I complain.
“Don’t give up,” he’s smiling at me and it’s making my heart race. It’s a genuine smile and it’s so different to the smiles he gave me as a child, “Delos, I’d like you to look after my accounts until Landon returns. Ashley will bring you up to speed.”
I glance at his face, trying to read his expression but it’s impossible. I’ve never been able to understand him. I don’t know why I keep trying.
Forty five minutes later when the meeting has finally finished, I rush towards the door before he can call me back. I worry that he’ll catch up with me but fate seems to be on my side because the other directors pounce on him before he can leave. I breathe out a sigh of relief when the lift doors close behind me, leaving me alone in the lift. I can’t stand still. I start pacing and muttering to myself. Who the hell does he think he is to kiss me? Why does he have to make this so complicated? Maya is waiting for me just outside the lift with my favourite mug, “I got you a green tea.”
“Thank you,” I reply without looking at her. I can’t. She’ll see that I’m upset and the sight of her might just make it worse. She looks just like her brother. “Get Ashley, your brother’s assistant to come into my office.”
“Yes Clara,” Maya nods before walking away. If she notices that I sound abrupt she completely ignores it as she does what I ask and I sigh gratefully.
Finally in the quiet solace of my office, I take a deep breath and feel my heart beat slow. I sip my tea and smile. You just have to be firmer with him. Avoid him if you must. You have to tell him he can’t kiss you again. I mentally chastise myself for allowing the kiss to happen in the first place. My peaceful solace is stolen away when Andrew barges into my office. He’s picked up an apple from somewhere and is biting into it. “Ever heard of knocking,” my voice is higher than I want it to be. It’s almost shrill.
He doesn’t respond. He just smirks at me, clearly happy with himself, before
lounging in the seat opposite me. “What do you want?” I ask attempting a tone of indifference. The rise of his right eyebrow tells me I didn’t achieve it. He doesn’t say anything though. He just sits there looking cocky, the smug bastard.
“If it’s not work related I’m busy,” I tell him without so much as a glance in his direction. I try to look busy; checking my emails, pretending to type out a reply when really I’m watching my fingers shake as I type random letters onto the screen.
“I” he stalls and for a moment I think he might apologise but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. He’s far too pleased with himself to apologise. He probably doesn’t even think he did anything wrong, “I think you owe me a kiss.”
His words do something to me. They make my stomach flip and my lips tingle as a reminder of what a kiss from Andrew Contius would be like. But his words also anger me and confuse me. “That isn’t going to happen.” I aim to sound resolute. The words come out more like a question.
He smirks, “I disagree.”
“You disagree?” I’m astounded by his response. It shouldn’t be up for debate. He can’t force kisses on me. I’m not his... I’m not a toy he can use and abuse, for fucks sake. My mind is all over the place.
“Yes.”
“Why do you disagree?”
“Because I know you want to kiss me.” His words are clear and certain. He’s completely confident that I want him.
“That’s not true,” I try to deny. I glance up at his face and I hope that he can’t hear the uncertainty in my tone or see the blush that is on my cheeks.
“Oh but it is, Clara,” he stands to his feet and steps around my desk so that he is stood right in front of me. This time without a desk or anything else in between us to keep him at a distance, my heart feels like it doesn’t fit in my chest as I wait for him to make a move. “I can tell.”
Repeating History (History #1) Page 6
