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 the 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?