“It’s okay,” he smirks as he rubs my clit with his thumb. How can he say that? This is so far from okay. We could get caught and as much as my body doesn’t care, my mind does. The small rational part of me that isn’t over run with desire tells me that anyone could walk in and see us like this. I’m still new here and he’s covering for the boss. It looks bad. More importantly, I’m the one who’d be painted in a bad light if this got out. He bites down on my bottom lip. I’m fucking myself on his fingers, grinding my sex into his palm. This is so very far from where we were a week ago. He removes his hand before I can find my release causing me to growl at him. “Now now princess,” he chuckles, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I ask. He’s lost me. It’s probably because I’m unable to concentrate on anything except the need between my thighs. He’s going to leave me like this. I think I might hate him after all.
“Our date,” he tells me.
“Date?”
“I promised dating.”
“What about right now though?” I ask and I sound desperate. It makes me blush with embarrassment. I don’t want to need him. I don’t want to give him that sort of power over me.
He smirks for just a second, enjoying my need. “You have plans with your friends,” he sighs and I realise it isn’t just me who is being denied right now.
“You could come,” then you might fuck me, I add in my head.
“Is that what you want?” he asks.
“I want you to fuck me,” I tell him honestly. Perhaps too honestly.
“What happened to acting professional in the work place?” he teases.
“I’m trying but you make it really difficult,” I reply bitterly.
“Good,” he retorts, “I’ll pick you up in an hour. Go home and change.” He kisses me once more before picking up the apple and walking out of my office without so much as a glance back. I definitely think I might hate him.
“You’re supposed to be my friends,” I complain, “and here you are completely betraying me.” I shake my head in mock disappointment.
Andrew is teasing me and the best bit is my friends have all decided to join in. “Oh come on Princess,” Andrew winks at me as if that will fix everything, “you know you love it.”
I bark out a laugh at that. I’ve never loved his teasing. “I’m not a princess,” I retort irritably.
He looks like he’s going to argue but he doesn’t. Then again he doesn’t really need to. His eyes are saying what he wants to say clear as day. I am a princess. I am his. My attention is pulled away when Michael chuckles, “I always thought it was an apt nickname to be honest.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely interested.
“Well the way you grew up,” Mike tells me, “you kind of were a bit of a princess.”
“How was I?” I’m irritated but I don’t want them to know. I don’t want to make my issues their problem.
“What with your dad being in politics, you always behaved so perfectly.”
“That’s true,” Elle adds, “I remember when we were in primary school, you refused to play in the sand and you absolutely hated getting paint on yourself but you loved painting so much.”
“That doesn’t make me a princess,” I frown, “it just means I was always aware of my public image.” Some things never change, only now it’s my brother Gideon’s career that’s in the papers on a daily basis. He’s young but there’s talk of him making Mayor of London in the next mayoral election.
“You had the composure of a queen,” Andrew tells me as he leans back in his chair, “that’s why I loved teasing you so much. It took so much to get a reaction.”
“I thought it was obvious you irritated the hell out of me.”
“Only in your eyes,” he replies.
“My eyes?”
“They were fire compared to the ice of your words.” I choose not to reply. Instead I take a sip of my wine, staring at him the whole time. My sex is clenching, demanding to be filled. I want him but we can’t leave just yet. No matter how much I might want to; I won’t be rude to my friends.
I’ve missed a massive chunk of the conversation and Elle is talking about her job in medical research. I need to stop letting him distract me. Fortunately, my friends don’t seem to have noticed. A beep from my phone pulls me away from them all momentarily. I’m surprised when I see a text from my brother Gideon;
Really need to talk to you. It’s urgent.
I consider leaving it until after dessert but my brother wouldn’t say it was urgent if it wasn’t. He doesn’t ever exaggerate. “Excuse me a moment would you,” I say without looking at any of the people around the table. I’m dialling my brother’s number before I leave the room and when I’m finally stood in Mike and Sarah’s living room Gideon finally answers.
“Gideon,” I say, “what’s wrong?”
“There’s going to be a story in the papers tomorrow.”
“Shit,” I blurt out loudly, “about me?”
“Yes. You. Me. Luca. Our family. All of us.”
“Shit! What about?” my mind is reeling with the possibilities.
“The identity of our mother,” Gideon’s answer cuts me to the core, “I need to see you.”
“No,” I sit on the edge of the sofa, completely in shock, “I’m at friends.”
“Then leave,” Gideon demands in the way that big brothers think they have a right to, “you need to hear this from me. Please don’t let yourself find out in the paper.”
I take a second to process what he is saying, “thank you for warning me but I just won’t read it. I don’t want to know.”
“Don’t be naive Clarisse!” he’s angry.
“I’m not being naive,” I’m barely restraining myself. I mustn’t shout. I don’t want my friends to come check on me, “I just don’t want to know. She’s nobody to me.”
“She’s your mother.”
“She’s the woman who abandoned me when I was a baby.”
“Clarisse,” his voice is softer now, “I can’t protect you from this.”
“I’m not asking you to.” The door to the living room opens and Andrew walks in. His raised eyebrow tells me he’s concerned. He takes a seat next to me and pulls my hand into his.
“Times run out Clara,” he says, “I know why you feel the way you do but trust me this is not the way you want to find out. Let me tell you the truth. The papers are going to betray their story; make it something sordid and you’ll hate them...”
“I already do,” I say although I know I’m lying.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“I won’t argue with you. I’ll meet you at your flat in half an hour. Get out of your social engagement.”
“Gid! You don’t get to demand this.”
“It’s for your own good. For once in your life do as you’re fucking told.”
“Why don’t you understand? I just don’t care.”
“You need to meet me anyway.”
“Why?” I ask stubbornly.
“There are other things to discuss. We’re going to be in the spotlight. We need to discuss your boyfriend.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Half an hour. Be there or I will come find you. Do not test me.” The line goes dead and I’m left in shocked silence.
“What do you need?” Andrew’s question breaks into my bubbled silence.
“Er... I need to go home,” I tell him without so much as looking at him.
“Okay; lets go say goodbye to your friends.” I look at him for the first time and I see concern etched across his face.
When we re-enter the dining room my friends go silent. Elle asks the first question, “is everything okay?”
I don’t answer. I just pick up my coat. “You’re leaving?” Sarah’s face is downcast.
I nod. “What’s happened? Your family?” Anna asks at the same time Mike pipes in, “what can we do?”
“Nothing. I’ll explain later
. Or even better. Read the paper tomorrow. Then you’ll know more than I do.”
“What?” their faces all hold matching looks of horror but it’s Anna who puts two and two together, “the press know who your mum is.”
I nod. Why deny the truth; what’s the point?
Gideon is waiting outside my apartment building when Andrew stops the car out front, “are you sure you don’t want me to come up?” Andrew offers one more time.
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“Call me?” he asks as he strokes my cheek gently.
I nod because I don’t really know what to say. I don’t want to promise that I’ll call. I might not. It depends what my brother has to say.
I step out the car, wave Andrew goodbye and make my way over to my building. I don’t say a word to Gideon. I don’t say hello or ask how he is. Polite conversation is superfluous right now. Gideon wordlessly follows me up the stairs. He doesn’t even speak when we enter my apartment. I walk straight into my kitchen and pour two glasses of Gin and Tonic. I hand him one of the glasses and wait for something to happen. When it doesn’t I guide him over to the sofas. “So,” I encourage him irritably.
“I know you don’t want to know but I think you need to hear this.”
“Fine,” I sigh, “you’re going to get your way either way. What’s the point in fight you on it?”
“I’m just trying to protect you.”
“I don’t fucking need protection.”
“Yes you do,” Gideon says between gritted teeth.
“Fine. Say what you came to say.” My words are quiet but no less fierce.
“Before dad went into politics our parents met.”
“Obviously.” Get to the point, I almost say out loud.
“Our mother was a socialite; London heiress sort.”
“Right,” I’d worked that much out myself.
“Dad was on holiday and our mother was temporarily living in France. They met in Paris. They had an affair and fell pregnant.” He keeps stopping as if I need time to process his words. “We’re talking 35 years ago. They eloped in a small French town and didn’t tell anyone. She was scared what her parents would say. They lived in Paris together for quite some time. No one knew that I existed, back in England that is. Then they had Luca and finally they had you. They lived together for ten years but they got a lot of pressure from back home. Grandfather was pushing for dad to go into politics and our mother’s family wanted her to come home and settle down. Little did they know.”
This is almost pointless. I really don’t want to know. All I really need to know is her name. Nothing else matters, “what’s the heiress’ name?”
“Michelle Spencer,” Gideon tells me and it means nothing to me. I sigh in relief that I don’t recognise her name. “Of course, she’s remarried; you’ll know her as Michelle Stone.”
I don’t breathe. I don’t move. I can’t even think, “as in Stone Publishing?”
He nods his head, “yes.”
“I have a sister?” I ask, thinking of Aurora.
“You have two,” he tells me with such a lack of emotion that I almost want to hit him. I feel tears prickling at my eyes. “Do they know about us?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Our mother does not like scandal.”
“And we’re a scandal,” for some reason that hurts.
“We’re the product of her foolishness.”
“Why did they divorce? Didn’t they love each other?”
“Father had to go into politics to inherit the family money and she refused to be a politician’s wife. She said she couldn’t handle having the whole country watching her. She knew our father was ambitious; he would never settle for a quiet life.”
“So she left?”
“Her parents demanded that she marry to get her own inheritance.”
“But she was already married.”
“Yes but they had no idea so our parents divorced quietly. Father kept us and we all returned to England. Dad went into politics and our family spread a story about a French wife that had died of a heart condition whilst we were young. It did wonders for his political career; everyone loves a widower.”
“Fuck; that’s fucked up.”
“Mum remarried almost immediately,” Gideon tells me, “to Lewis Stone. I think she loves him. She focused on her work for a few years before having her daughters. She has two; Aurora who is twenty two and Aileen who is twenty.”
We’re silent. I’m not sure what more there is to discuss but there’s clearly more or my brother would have left by now. “What else?” I ask when I can’t take any more.
“We need to talk about your boyfriend.”
“How is this relevant?” I ask because he’s not even really my boyfriend yet. We’ve been together a couple of days. I don’t want my family to damage this for me.
“With this scandal out there, they are going to be looking for more.” I nod because he’s right. We’ve always been squeaky clean and now we’re not. “Your situation in Liverpool is most likely going to become public.”
That isn’t what I’d expected but of course he’s right. I give him a look that says I understand. I’m not happy about it but it’s the consequences of my behaviour. I’ll deal. “I had a friend do a bit of digging into Contius.”
“Of course you did,” I try so hard not to sound bitter.
“He’s got a reputation as being a bit of a player,” Gideon tells me.
“So do most guys,” I retort.
“When you were in high school he had sex with your friend Sarah.”
“What? No he didn’t. When?” I’d have known that. She’d been with Mike. She gave Michael her virginity... what the hell?
“She fell pregnant.” I can’t respond. Everything inside me is closing down as his words wash over me. Andrew’s a dad but I’d have noticed a bump. “She miscarried,” Gideon tells me calmly.
“When?” my voice is harsh.
“You were all sixteen.”
“Was she with Mike then?”
“I don’t know.”
“What the hell am I meant to do with this?” I ask with with a desperation that isn’t like me.
“The only way to stop it going public is to end your relationship.”
“It will definitely go public though? If I don’t I mean.”
“My source at the BBC says they have the story yes.”
“Fuck.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What do I do?” I ask, “I need to tell Mike.”
Gideon frowns, “that’s up to you.”
My mind is all over the place. I can’t process this. “When are they going to run the story?”
“The story about mum will be in the paper tomorrow.” I nod but that isn’t the story I care about.
“Then they will see how it goes,” he tells me, “they will probably use the story about you and Stephen before the weekend ends and they’re bound to attack me and your brother on something or other.”
“So we have time?”
“To end your relationship yes,” Gideon nods.
That isn’t what I’d meant but I know it’s probably the only rational answer. I have to spare Mike and Sarah. Even if she cheated, she doesn’t deserve to have people talking about her miscarriage. Sarah and Mike have been really unfortunate when it comes to kids. “How?”
“Easy. I tell my source at the BBC and he discourages them from going down that direction. It means you have to cease communication with Contius though.”
I nod, “okay.”
“Right. I better go. Thousands of things to do.” He smiles sadly at me, before pulling me into an unexpected hug, “it will be okay Clarissa.” He pulls a card out of the pocket of his jacket, “you may want this.”
I look down at the card. The first thing I notice is the Stone Publishing logo. It’s my mother’s contact information, “I don’t need this.”
“Perhaps not yet, but I think you might want it
one day.”
“I doubt it.”
“It’s like you said; you have sisters... and a mother.” Gideon walks out the door leaving me to the uncertainty of my situation. I’d wanted to be Aurora’s friend not her sister. I consider calling the number on the card but I can’t bring myself to do it.
I don’t check the papers and I refuse to turn on the TV all weekend. I don’t respond to any of the texts that have filled my inbox. Andrew has sent at least a dozen texts. My brothers have both tried calling and my father has emailed me perhaps the longest email I’ve ever received from him.
From: Kenneth ([email protected])
To: Clara ([email protected])
RE: Everything
Clarissa,
I’m so sorry. I can only hope that your brother got to you in time. I’ve always wanted you to know your mother but it’s your prerogative to do as you please. I’d never force her upon you but this was the worse way you could possibly find out about her.
Clarissa, I know you’ve always disliked being in the spotlight. In that way, you remind me so much of your mother. She hated it too. That’s why she was in Paris, you know. Trying to run away from everyone else’s expectations. In that way, you are far stronger than her. You’ve never cared what anyone else thinks. You are so brave, princess. When I found out what happened with that Stephen, I knew I should chastise you for what you did and the potential scandal it could cause but secretly I was so proud of you.
I know you think that I have prioritised my political career over you children and perhaps you are right. Although if you are I cannot apologise enough. That was never my intention to hurt you. Your brother tells me there are other stories that might come out. I want you to know that nothing they can say will make me any less proud of you.
Your brother is worried about his career but as much as it pains me to say this, you need to put your own heart first for once. Don’t let this hold you back. Not for a second. Fly high until you are soaring above the clouds like you were born to do.
Repeating History (History #1) Page 12
