by Dark Angel
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 t
he 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, this 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.
"Screw this," I finally sigh, allowing my body to relax. I walk up the inner stairway and head straight for my bedroom suite; there, I simply throw myself on top of the bed and try to forget about this confrontation with my mother.
That isn’t hard to do; after what happened between Connor and I, it’s really easy to distract myself. If only I could have these lips all to myself… God, I could kiss him all day long.
I start imagining how it’d feel to have him by my side right now, to feel his breath on my neck, his body pressed against mine… Before I know it, my pussy starts growing wet, the fabric of my thong sticking to the skin.
Pursing my lips, I slide one hand down my chest and hook my fingers on the hemline of my dress; hiking it up to my waist, I flatten the palm of my hand between my thighs and arch my back, a soft moan climbing up my throat as I press hard against my wetness.
I run the tip of my tongue between my lips and, before I even know it, I’ve flicked my thong to the side. I run one finger up the length of my wet pussy lips and, doing it fast, I slide that finger deep inside me while I press down on my clit with my thumb.
Closing my eyes and breathing hard, I let my mind weave all kinds of sinful scenarios while I work on my pussy, images of Connor’s naked body flooding me. Time seems to dilate all around me, and all I feel is that sweet tension building up inside my muscles.
"Oh, God," I groan, pressing my legs together as I feel a bolt of lightning climbing up my spine, a violent orgasm exploding inside my skull.
Oh, if thinking of Connor is this good, I can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel to really have him.
Clarise
After enjoying that little private moment, I jump out of bed and take a quick shower. Hoping to see Connor again at dinner, I rummage through my wardrobe for a long time, trying to find something I know will grab his attention.
I settle on a tight skirt, one that hugs the curves of my ass perfectly, and on a red blouse that somehow makes my breasts look even bigger than they are. Satisfied with my choice of clothes, I take one spin in front of the mirror and then put on some vibrant red lipstick, one to match my blouse.
Checking the watch on my phone, I realize I only have five minutes to be down in the dining room. Not wanting to get on my mother’s bad side (more than usually, I mean), I hurry out of my bedroom suite and make my way downstairs, carefully balancing myself on my favorite pair of Jimmy Choos.
By the time I get to the dining room (which takes me almost two minutes, that’s how big my house is), everyone’s already sitting at the table. Everyone but Connor, that is.
As I take my seat right next to Earl, my father nods at the two servants standing close to the door and they push their food trolleys toward the table, ready to start serving us. I never really felt comfortable with having servants and maids, especially when they simply stand around and watch you eat, but what am I going to do? That’s how I was brought up, and I don’t really want to start acting like a rebellious teenager again.
"Where the hell is Connor? Too important to have dinner with us?" Earl asks suddenly, raising his voice and being as subtle as an elephant in a china house.
"Connor is skipping dinner today. He wanted to spend some time in the chapel," my father tells him, his tone of voice firm and commanding. "You should try and respect him, Earl. He’s going to be helping this family and, besides, the man just lost his father. Have some compassion, will you?"
"Compassion," Earl scoffs, lowering his gaze toward his plate. Then, as if deciding he doesn’t really care for the food, he nods at one of the servants, whom immediately reaches for the bottle of red wine sitting in the middle of the table and refills my brother’s glass. "I doubt compassion will help any of us. We’re the Donovans, for God’s sake! Not Buddhists or whatever."
"Can you shut up just for a minute?" I snap at him, offering him a death stare. "He’s just praying, you don’t have to be an asshole about it."
"He’s probably praying for you to leave him alone," he mutters under his breath, but he does it loud enough for everyone at the table to hear it. Yeah, tha
nks for that, my lovely brother, really kind of you.
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" I tell him, raising my voice loud enough to grab his attention. "If there’s something you want to tell me, just do it, Earl."
"Tell you what? I don’t need to tell you anything. But it’s obvious to everyone what you’re trying to do."
"Which is?"
"You’re trying to fall on Connor’s good graces so that he’ll help you into the business. Am I wrong? Huh? That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Running our whole fortune just so you can feel all important?"
"Alright, enough! The two of you!" my father says, slamming his fist down on the table and making all the silverware jump up. He looks from me to Earl with a disapproving stare and a heavy silence falls around us. "This is a family dinner, and you’re family. So behave accordingly. And more than that, I don’t want any conversation about business. Can’t we just be a family for the night?" he asks and, even though he’s being stern, there’s a slight note of sadness in his words. It probably isn’t easy for a father to see his two children at each other’s throats all the time.
My father’s words work, but probably not in the way he expected them to. Both me and Earl fall into a sullen silence and, even though there’s no more fighting or snide remarks around the table, we’re not really "being a family for the night," as my father put it. Unless what he really meant was for us to act like a family slowly falling apart, because that’s the one thing I’d say we’re really succeeding at.
Earl’s right, though. Even though me being attracted to Connor has nothing to do with my family’s business, it’s pretty obvious that Connor can help me get a foothold in the business. I mean, he’s our family adviser, and my father always cared a lot about the way Edward helped guide our family… So it’s pretty much a given that Connor will establish the same kind of relationship with my father, which means that he’ll be able to help me become more than just the Donovan troublemaker.