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"What about you?" He asks, turning around to face me. "My father told me you were interested in being part of your family business."
"That’s right," I nod. "I know I haven’t exactly lived up to the Donovan name but… I want that to change. I know my father has pretty much given up on me, and I really can’t blame him. But I refuse to sit on the sidelines, twiddling my thumbs while Earl slowly takes control over everything. I’m as good as he is, and I know it."
"You’ll have to be patient," he whispers, his gaze once more wandering far into the distance. "But, with time, I think Jonathan will allow you to prove yourself."
"Do you think I can do it?" I ask him then, a sudden need for approval taking over me. I’ve never been the kind of girl that always needs to be encouraged but, right now, I need Connor’s validation.
Looking back at me, he chuckles softly.
"You can do anything you want, Clarise," he smiles, and I feel… something. I can’t exactly describe it but, somehow, I know that this is a moment I won’t forget anytime soon. Me and Connor, the gentle breeze of Central Park caressing the tall branches and leaves over us, and his words: you can do anything you want. I don’t know if it’s the way he said it, or the way he’s looking at me, but I feel as if I really can do anything.
"I’m glad you’re with us," I tell him, and then we start walking down the path again. In silence. Walking with Connor, I feel a sudden burst of joy taking over me. Without thinking of what I’m doing, I reach for him and grab his arm, not saying a word as I do it. We walk arm-in-arm for a long while, the world around us moving as if in slow-motion. For the first time in months I feel that, somehow, everything will work out.
Connor’s here, and that’s enough.
Connor
Stretching my back as I get out of the taxi, I look up at the cobbled road that leads up to the Donovan mansion. More than just a mansion, it looks like some sort of castle out of a fairy tale. It looms over the whole estate with a kind of ancient pride, its tall towers with narrow windows making it look like a place fit for a king.
Walking around the taxi, I pop the trunk open and take my two briefcases out; the moment I place them on the gr
ound, two servants pop out of nowhere, each one of them taking one of the briefcases.
"There’s no need for that," I tell them, but they just haul my belongings up the cobbled path. With a sigh, I pay the taxi driver and then start making my way up. After Clarise left the Ritz, I knew that the time was right: I had my affairs in order, and it was time I joined the Donovans at their estate. I called Jonathan, told him I was ready to assume my position with the Donovan family... and here I am now.
At the end of the cobbled path I’m on, there’s a large courtyard with a marble fountain in the middle, the sound of the running water like a delicate melody; behind it, there’s a wide stone stairway that leads up to the mansion’s main entrance and, standing at the top of it, is the Donovan family.
Jonathan is in the middle, his greying hair combed to perfection, and he has his wife and son flanking him. My eyes dart to Earl almost immediately, but this time he looks sober and not a drunken mess.
Standing a bit to the side, there’s Clarise; her blonde hair is tied back, and she’s wearing a summery blue dress that ends just above her knees. Her smart eyes seem to twinkle as she sees me come up the stairway, and I feel my heart tightening with each step I take.
"Welcome, Connor," Jonathan says heartily as I get to the top, offering me his hand. I take it in mine, and he shakes it firmly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I’m really glad that you accepted coming here to serve under my family. You have some big shoes to fill."
"I know," I tell him, my heart suddenly feeling heavy as I remember my father. "I’ll do my best, sir."
"Please, call me Jonathan. After all, you’re basically a member of the family now… The least we can do is drop all formality."
"Thank you," I say, and then turn my attention toward his wife. Elegant despite being in her fifties, the female commander of the Donovans still has that poised and confident posture that I remember back from when I used to visit my father. But, despite her rough temperament, she offers me a smile and takes one step forward. I’m about to offer her my hand when she wraps her arms around me, hugging me tightly.
"Welcome, Connor. I know your father would be proud of you right now."
"Thank you," I tell her, having no idea what to say to that. She’s right; my father would be proud if he knew I’d be following in his footsteps, influencing one of the most powerful families in the world. But, if I could, I’d trade all that if it meant I could bring him back. But I can’t of course; such miracles are not for the common mortals.
"Clarise," I say as Mrs. Donovan pulls back from me. Clarise closes the distance between her and I; just like her mother did, she hugs me tightly, and I feel her breasts pressing against my chest in a way that makes a pleasant warmth spread under my skin.
"Earl," I continue, pulling back from Clarise and offering her older brother my hand. He looks into my eyes for a second, and then shakes my hand and gives me a little nod. His adversarial (and drunk) attitude seems to have disappeared, at least for now.
"Shall we?" Jonathan asks me, stepping aside and waving for me to enter through the large double doors that lead into the Donovan home. The moment I step one foot inside the main hall of the mansion, the smell of it brings me back immediately to all those summers I used to spend in here. For a few seconds, it’s almost as if I’m eighteen again, the world is at my feet.
"It’s just like I remember it," I say, looking around the cavernous hall, another large stairway leading the way toward the upper floors. Lining the walls there are a myriad of paintings from the Renaissance, and there are even two full-plate armors from medieval Italy in one corner.
More than being the house of a powerful family from the XXI century, the Donovans’ house always reminded me of a palace from the Italian nobility. Which, of course, makes a lot of sense, despite their family being rooted in the Irish tradition, there’s also a lot of Italian blood in there, and Jonathan has always been fascinated by the power of history.
"Your belongings have already arrived from Rome," Jonathan tells me as he leads the way through a large corridor, stopping in front of a massive oak door. "The servants are preparing the guest house for you as we speak," he continues, pushing the door open and stepping inside.
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.
