"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.
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, and 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.
"I have to be especially careful around you," I tell her with a chuckle, fully knowing what she’s getting at. But I won’t let her pull me down into sin again… I won’t allow it. Oh, crap, why does that sound like a lie?