Ah, what a day to be alive!
17
Connor
Kicking the sheets back, I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling for a long moment. I’ve barely slept an hour, the memories of what Clarise and I did at the chapel haunting me throughout the night… Whenever I fell asleep, I’d just end up waking up a few minutes later, covered in a cold sweat as the shadows inside the room seemed to close in on me.
How the hell did I succumb to temptation this easily? I should've been stronger, smarter! But no, I couldn’t do it… The moment I felt her to
uch me, I knew I was doomed. I could've stopped it anytime, yes, but how exactly was I supposed to do that when lust was choking all rationality out of my mind? I might be a spiritual man, a man of God, but I’m only human. And you know how humans are weak.
Still, I have to admit… whatever it was that happened between Clarise and I, it went beyond the physical realm. There was a connection there, something deep and ethereal, and that makes Clarise even more dangerous. Now more than any other time, I need to keep my guard up and my head on my shoulders.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I stretch my back for a few seconds and then get up, ambling toward the bathroom. There, I turn the shower on and step under the running water without a second thought, the cold water jolting my senses and slapping my mind into attention.
Allowing the cold water to slap some sense into me, I try and convince myself that, after what happened, I’ve managed to kick Clarise out of my system. After all, if I’ve already done it once, I don’t need to do it again, right? If that sounds like a bullshit excuse to you, don’t worry, I’m thinking the same.
Still, I can’t let that happen again. And I won’t.
Getting out of the shower, I dry myself off and then start getting dressed. I’m wearing a more formal suit today because I’m meeting Jonathan and Earl at the Donovan business tower. Apparently, my father was trying to help the Donovans sort out what new direction they should take for their business, and now that’s my responsibility.
I’m already anticipating a tough meeting, but that’s to be expected. It’s my first time handling something as important as this, and I can’t help but feel the pressure to measure up to what my father did in the past. To make that pressure even worse, I have a feeling that Earl isn’t going to make it easy for me. A feeling? It’s almost stupid of me to say that. Of course Earl’s going to make things difficult for me. That’s all he’s ever done since I returned to the States.
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.