Blessed: A Bad Priest Romance

by Alexis Angel

  It doesn’t matter, though. Earl’s a Donovan and, even if I don’t like him, it’s my duty to advise and guide him to the best extent of my capabilities.

  "Alright, let’s do this," I whisper to myself as I pick up my wallet and car keys from the small tray on my bedstand. Even though I’ve protested against it, Jonathan insisted on providing me with a car. And, of course, instead of settling for something subtle he offered me a sports car, the kind that just looks tacky on a man who prides himself on being spiritual. Do you know these evangelists, the ones that preach the word of God and then travel around the world in their luxury yachts and private jet planes? Yeah, I hate those hypocrites. But now here I am, getting ready to sit behind the wheel of a sports car.

  Whatever—a car’s just a car, and its function is to get me from Point A to Point B. Who cares if it’s a rundown car or something more luxurious? Don’t bother answering, that was a rhetorical question.

  I’m walking toward the car, parked right in front of the guest house, when I see Clarise jogging down the cobbled road that leads to the mansion. Her hair is tied up in a bun and, even though there’s sweat running down her face, she looks as beautiful as ever. Of course, it also helps that she’s wearing tight (and definitely too tiny) running shorts and a sports bra, one carefully chosen to reveal her cleavage.

  Sometimes I wonder if she gets out of bed thinking of new ways to mess with my head. Well, if that’s what she’s doing, she’s doing one hell of a job.

  "Hey!" she greets me, running up to me and taking one earphone off. "Are you going out?" she asks me, stopping just a few feet away from me. I try to keep my eyes focused on her face, but that’s even harder to do now that I know her breasts more intimately than I expected.

  "I’m meeting with your father and Earl," I tell her as I open the car’s door and sit behind the wheel. I smile at her and then close the door, sliding the key into the ignition and revving the engine up. The car roars like a lion, and I’m about to drive off when she places one hand on the door.

  "Hang on—a meeting? What meeting?" she asks me, narrowing her eyes at me. "I don’t know about any meeting."

  "Clarise… You don’t work for the company yet," I try to tell her gently, but the expression on her face tells me that she’s having none of it. "This is a business meeting, so perhaps they didn’t think it was necessary to inform you," I continue, even though deep down I know that’s bullshit. Even though Clarise isn’t formally working for the company, I have the feeling that her father would want her to at least sit in so that she could learn the ropes of the business.

  "That’s bullshit," she says, echoing my thoughts, and then just looks out into the horizon. I can almost see the gears turning inside her head as she tries to understand what has happened.

  "Clarise, listen…" I start, and she looks back at me. "What happened between the two of us… It can’t - it won’t - happen again."

  "Connor --"

  "No. We can’t do that," I tell her firmly and, before she can respond, I pull out of the driveway. God, those final words were hard to say because right now, all I want is for what happened between her and I to repeat itself.

  18

  Connor

  "No, we need to be bolder! We’re the Donovans, not some bean counters!" I hear Earl say as I walk down the corridor, his voice coming from the conference room at the end. Even though the glass panels are said to be soundproof, Earl is talking so loud that I just can’t help but overhear him.

  Oh, this day is already going downhill fast. I wasn’t expecting my first day at the Donovan tower to be an easy one, but I also didn’t expect to make my debut as the Donovan’s adviser halfway into a shouting match. But I don’t have any other option, it seems.

  "Good morning," I tell both Earl and Jonathan as I step inside the conference room, closing the door behind me. I shake Jonathan’s hand and then do the same with Earl; the younger man doesn’t even get up from his chair as I do it.

  "You got here just in time, Connor," Jonathan starts to say affably, waving one hand toward Earl. "My son here wants to turn the family company into some kind of unpredictable juggernaut, and I was just telling him that --"

  "Unpredictable? What the hell are you talking about, dad?" Earl cuts him short, the arrogance in his voice making me purse my lips. Earl doesn’t respect anyone, and he extends that courtesy even to his own father, it seems. More than an adviser, I think what Earl needs is a good old-fashioned beat down. Sure, that might not be what you expected to hear from a spiritual adviser, but it's the truth.

  "Alright, let’s hear it then," I tell the both of them, taking my seat right between them.

  "My son was just telling me that we should play the market more aggressively," Jonathan sighs, and I can sense the frustration in his voice. No wonder, after a lifetime wrestling with the financial markets, Jonathan Donovan must be aching to transition into something more lasting and stable. They’ve made their fortune on Wall Street, that’s for sure, but Jonathan has always been at the helm of the company, and he’s pretty level-headed. I can’t say the same about Earl… And, in my opinion, the market will just spit out a brash young man who thinks he knows everything. Arrogance is a death wish when it comes to Wall Street, and that’s a lesson that Earl hasn’t learned yet.

  "And my father wants us to stagnate," Earl breathes out, the frustration in his voice even bigger than his father’s.

  "To transition into something else doesn’t mean we’re stagnating, Earl," Jonathan tells him patiently, drumming his fingertips on the surface of the large conference table. "I want us to move into shipping and merchant banking, Connor," he now tells me, "and I want to do it as soon as possible. There’s a gap in the market that we can fill, and these areas are a lot easier to work in than Wall Street."

  "From what I’ve read from your past financial statements, it seems that the market has been bleeding you dry for the past few months," I start, looking from Earl to Jonathan. I’m being careful enough to not lay the blame at anyone’s feet, but I know that it was Earl placing bold bets on losing companies. No matter how smart he seemed to be at Wharton, the man seems to have no common sense when it comes to playing the market.

  "And I believe that the time is right for the Donovans to transition. Just think about it, Earl. More than being a Wall Street player, the Donovan family might extend its reach into untapped markets," I continue and, with every word I say, a vein on Earl’s temple starts throbbing more and more furiously. For such a young guy, he really looks like he’s on the verge of a heart attack. I guess that’s the consequence of having such a nasty temper.

  "The matter’s settled then. I wanted to follow this course of action from the very beginning, Connor, but I wanted to hear your thoughts on it first. Your analysis didn’t disappoint," Jonathan tells me with a smile, going up to his feet. He shakes my hand once more and then collects his briefcase from the desk.

  "Dad, this isn’t --"

  "The matter’s settled," Jonathan repeats, glancing sternly at Earl before walking out of the conference room.

  "This is fucking ridiculous!" Earl cries out, slamming his fist down on the table and scattering the documents in front of him. "Why did you side against me, Connor?" He asks me, his furious eyes now trained on me. "Do you want me to fail that badly?"

  "It’s nothing like that, Earl," I reply, trying to keep a patient tone. It’s getting harder, though, the more time I spend with Earl, the more I want to introduce him to my fists. Don’t look at me like that; tough love can also be a religious experience. "Listen, you should think of your family as something that needs a sustainable foundation. More than just looking a few years into the future, you have the opportunity to build a strong legacy and --

  "Fuck off, Connor. You and your pious bullshit."

  "Calm down, Earl. This isn’t --"

  "Fuck. Off," he repeats, letting the words roll out from between his lips slowly, malice dripping out of his voice. "You try to pretend you’re this ho
ly guy… But I’ve noticed the way you look at my sister. You want to fuck her, don’t you?"

  Alright, just give me the Nobel Peace Prize. I sure as hell deserve it, since I haven’t cracked his skull yet.

  "This meeting is over, Earl," I say, looking away from him and getting up. "And whether you like it or not, your father has made a decision. If I were you, I’d spend my time learning from him instead of fighting him. Either way, it’s your choice."

  With that, I turn on my heels and leave the office. And just in time because if I had to spend one more minute around Earl, I’d just choke the living daylights out of him.

  Yeah, I’m an old-testament kind of guy.

  19

  Clarise

  Yeah, I don’t like being left out.

  And that’s exactly why, the moment Connor drove off, I called for one of our executive cars to come and pick me up at the estate. I spent the whole drive to the Donovan business tower fuming, trying to decipher the reason behind me being left out, and I can only think of one thing: Earl. Now, how he got my father to agree with leaving me out of Connor’s first real business meeting with the family is beyond me.

  The moment the driver stops in front of the Donovan Tower, I get out of the car in a hurry and make my way toward the elevators. A lot of employees greet me as I rush past them, but I’m so focused on the issue at hand that I don’t even greet them back.

  When the elevator doors finally slide open on the top floor of the tower, I head straight toward my father’s office. I don’t even bother knocking; I just stroll inside as if I own the place (which, in a way, I do).

  "Why did no one tell me of this meeting?" I ask him as I storm inside the office, looking at my father with what I hope to be an intimidating look. Of course, my father isn’t the kind of guy to be intimidated by anyone. After all, before devoting himself to take the Donovan empire into greater heights, he fought in the First Gulf War.

  "Glad to see you too," my father sighs tiredly, leaning back against his chair and drumming his fingertips against the glass surface of the table. "What the hell are you talking about, Clarise?" he then asks me, looking at me with an impatient expression. "You were the one who didn’t bother to show up. As far as I’m aware, my secretary called the house to inform you of this meeting, and she told me that the message had been delivered."

  "Oh, that’s rich," I start, already imagining how it’ll feel once I kick Earl’s ass. "Really rich. Because no one told me of the meeting."

  "That doesn’t make any sense, Clarise," my father tries to tell me, but I’ve already turned on my heels and left his office in a hurry. Walking down the corridor with heavy steps, I go toward Earl’s office; I already have my hand on the handle when I notice someone moving from the corner of my eyes. I turn around and, realizing that Earl’s in the main conference room, I go there instead.

  I slide the glass door open and step inside.

  Making my way toward my asshole brother, I lock my eyes on his and give him my best death stare. "You know," I start, slowly rolling the words out from between my lips, "your attempts at sabotage are going to be your undoing. I hope you know that."

  "What the fuck are you talking about, Clarise? Have you gone nuts?" he asks me, trying to feign shock, but I can see it in his eyes; he was the one who got the message from dad’s secretary, and he purposefully kept me in the dark about this meeting. But what else did I expect from my brother? Even though we’re blood related, I can’t say I see him as part of my family, and he feels the same toward me, that much is evident.

  "Don’t you fucking bullshit me!" I hiss, grabbing the armrests of his chair and leaning into him. I’m so pissed right now I think I can rip his head off with my teeth.

  "Okay, it was me. So what?"

  "So what? You slimy piece of --"

  "Cool down, ‘sis. I know you’ve been doing your best to secure a spot in the company, but let me tell you something… It’s not going to happen," he says, grinning like a madman.

  "What the fuck is wrong with you, Earl? I’m your sister!" I tell him, fighting against the urge to slap him hard.

  "Precisely. Do you think I’m going to let you waltz in here and rob me of my rightful place? This company is going to be mine. Mine, Clarise, do you understand? And the only way you’ll ever get a say in what happens inside this tower will be over my dead body," he continues, his voice turning into a half-growl, half-whisper.

  "You’re a prick. A really evil prick… I don’t even know how the hell you’re my brother," I tell him, standing up and looking down at him with the contempt a piece of shit like him deserves.

  "I’m the prick who's going to run this company. And you better get used to it. In fact, if I were you, I’d just try and get hitched. Maybe with Connor, huh? He seems to have a thing for you. Maybe you should just show him these tits of yours and maybe he’ll ditch his vows and marry you."

  This time I don’t control myself. I simply cock my arm back, open up my hand, and let it fly straight into Earl’s face. The sound of my hand hitting his face is dry and heavy, like a muffled gunshot, and I’m pretty satisfied when I see the red marks of my fingers imprinted on his cheeks.

  "You don’t deserve to be called a Donovan," I tell him, my words dripping with icy contempt. "You don’t even deserve to be called a man."

  "Ah, Clarise…" he laughs, brushing the palm of his hand over the place where I just slapped him. "You might try and act like a little lioness, but that won’t get you anywhere. Now crawl back home; I’ve got shit to do."

  "You’ll regret this," I tell him, looking straight into his eyes. He stares back at me and, for a moment, I see genuine concern washing over his face. "You want to make an enemy out of me? Very well, that’s what I’ll be."

  With that, I turn around and march out of the conference room.

  If my brother wants a war, I’ll give him a war.

  20

  Connor

  "Alright, kids, see you next week…" I tell the group of young children as they pack up their bags, stuffing their bibles inside and running down the aisles of the church.

  "Bye, Connor!" They all shout on the way out, making a ruckus as they hurry out into the dying light of another day.

  I’m not the kind of guy that enjoys ‘down-time’. While some people enjoy vegetating behind a TV or computer screen, I like to get busy. And what better way to get busy than to give back to the community?

  Shortly after my father’s funeral, I approached the pastor of the mega-church where the ceremony was held, and I offered my help. He told me he needed someone to teach a bible study class to the younglings from the congregation, and that’s exactly the class I’ve finished teaching.

  During my tenure in Rome as a member of the Order of the Temple, I never really had the chance to interact with the community that much. Most of my time was spent going through financial ledgers, helping businesses and non-profit charities do some good in impoverished areas. That helped me prepare for something as challenging as being the advisor to a family like the Donovans but, in a way, it also distanced me from the community.

  And you know what? I enjoyed teaching these kids. And I think that they’ve also enjoyed having me as their teacher. After all, I did my best not to be like those old boring farts that drone on about the Bible.

  I’ve pack my bible inside my bag when I hear the click of high heels echoing throughout the empty chamber of the church. Raising my head, I see Clarise strutting down the long aisle, making her way toward me. I look at her as she walks, my eyes entranced by the gentle sway of her hips, her whole figure calling to me in that devilish way.

  "We need to talk, Connor," she tells me and, for once, I breathe out in relief. The way with which she’s speaking tells me that she wants to talk about business, not about what happened between the two of us, and that’s already a step in the right direction.

  "Of course, Clarise. Walk with me," I say with a polite nod; I start walking down the aisle, heading toward the exit, a
nd she walks by my side.

  "You have to be careful."

  "What about?" I ask her, but I think I already know what the answer’s going to be. Ever since my first day as an adviser to the Donovans, I spotted the biggest problem in the family right away.

  "You know what about," she sighs. "Earl. I know he’s my brother, but he … he’s not like my father, you know? He wants things to go his way, and when they don’t…. Well, he has a mean and cruel streak to him. And he doesn’t care about anyone—and that includes you. If he has to crush you to get what he wants, that’s exactly what he’ll do."

  "I don’t care if he comes after me… I’m a grown man. Besides, he’s a Donovan, and all I’m trying to do is help out your family," I reply, even though I have to acknowledge what she’s saying: Earl doesn’t care about the family. He cares about himself, and if I stand between him and his goals he won’t hesitate to swat me down like a fly. Thing is—I’m not a fly. If he tries to swat me down, he might end up being the one swatted into oblivion. Like I said, I’m in the States to help the Donovans and if I have to crush Earl to help them, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

  "You’re just saying that to ease my mind, aren’t you?" she whispers softly.

  "Clarise … don’t worry about me. But thank you for the warning … I’ll be careful around all of the Donovans," I finish off, stopping right before the exit door and turning around to look into her eyes.

  "You don’t have to be careful around me," she shoots back without thinking twice, and I feel my heart tightening up inside my chest in that lustful manner I’ve come to know so well.