Alexander’s POV
“Are you making this shit up?” I tackle him, walking him over with crude eyes. He shakes his head. “The constitution exists, all three hundred pages of it. I can have it sent up right now” He appears serious. My blood heats up another degree, my veins feel like they could pop out from my skin. Three hundred fucking pages of disaster about to ruin my life. No freaking way. Simon continues amidst the chaos in my head. “And the union has to make a year for it to be acknowledged or you would be removed as Clifford’s forerunner immediately and then Clifford Empire would….” “Shut up…shut up…shut up” I nearly want to bite his head off but he saves himself with a swift retreat. I drag my feet. “This is bullshit…bullshit…bullshit” “Alexander I don’t believe it would be hard to find a happy Mrs. Clifford. There would be at least a thousand offers, you have nothing to worry about” “So what the hell am I supposed to do now?” Now that the fucking constitution has me fucked to a corner. “First, we bury the dead…” My heart sinks, returning back to the crux of the matter. I feel my eyes sink, they are really gone; obliterated, finished, ended, banished to pictures and memories. Shit! I can’t plan a funeral, a double, I shiver with horror. I am just not cut out for that. Simon reads the expressions on my face and saves me the sweat. “You don’t have to worry about the funeral; the insurance company has everything handled” I feel a little relief, waving off all the tedious images of picking out coffins for my brother and grandfather. Definitely not the trouble I am looking for. He starts motioning towards me, my eyes follow his strides, where they meet me, one hand taking my shoulder, making eye contact. “Then you run the Clifford empire like your brother would have” I scoff. “I don’t know a thing about running this shit hole” This fucking maze of bad memories. “I would help you…I worked closely with Harry as you know and even with your grandfather, I would practically hold your hand and take you step by step” His eyes were stroking my approval, my commitment, my acceptance. Arthur Clifford must be rolling over in his grave, the invaluable cunt was to be forerunner of Clifford. Laughable. I was not Harry. I could never be and this forerunner bullshit wasn’t my bullshit to clean up but here was Simon, offering to be my saddle boy. How could I refuse? It would be foolish to refuse and maybe, just maybe I wanted to send a fuck you message to Arthur Clifford, piss on his presumptuous, terrifying, condescending face; the invaluable cunt, taking over his precious empire, sure that would piss him off. “This is still a load of bullshit” I am mumbling amidst many scattered thoughts. “There is one more thing” Simon strikes again. One fierce finger pointed. “If you mention the fucking constitution one more time?” I couldn’t take anymore heat. “It’s Miss. Catherine” His chin drops. “And who for fuck sakes is Catherine?” I throw my hands. “Harry’s intended…she flew in from Wales yesterday” “Harry’s dead, you should send her back home” Infact. “Yeah…I just thought maybe you’d want to see her, offer some consolation…” I take a second. “Consolation…” My eyes drop and then to the right, my lips curl upward, hosting an inner conversation with myself, debating for a while and then I re-engage. “You said I must take a wife…and she was to marry Harry?” I’m thinking my thoughts aloud. “Yee…aah” His words dragged with a nod, eyes investigating mine. “I need a wife and she has just lost a husband to be…” I am deliberating with myself, mentally calculating. “No Alexander…that’s not what I meant…I was talking about sympathy and acknowledgement…not…not what you are thinking” I could hear the trouble in his voice and I could feel his following eyes. It’s good that he knows what I am thinking; saves me the trouble of explanations. I face him. “Send her to me” “Alexander I don…” “How fast can you draw up a contract?” Simon appears even more astounded. “It depends on its complexity” Only his mouth moved, his eyes followed me diligently. “Simple, really simple, just a list of terms and conditions” “Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes” Vertical wrinkles appear between his brows. “I ignore his apparent disapproval. “Good…I’ll email you a list. Have Miss. Catherine come see me then have the contract drawn immediately and get it here” I conclude. “Alexander, are you… sure you…” He stutters, disapproval ploughing his brows. “Simon…” I take his eyes. “Get me Catherine Kent” He holds my firm gaze and surrenders. He nods. “Yes Sir” My eyes follow his parting distance. Once the door shuts, I am alone and it all starts to sink in. The Clifford Manor, marriage and my brother’s intended, Catherine. Could you really, Alex? Would you really? Harry wouldn’t mind. He always wanted me to step up, and while I am trying to do it, no one says I have to do it his way.Catherine’s POV How could someone be so beautiful? dark eyes glistened under very relaxed black brows. His medium length mid-brown hair tucked behind his ears, slightly parted at its corner. His hawk nose pointed to his thick lips, red, like it had color in it. full, they looked so skilled, like they had done a lot of kissing, perfect for fantasizing. His chiseled jaw hosted his perfectly carved stubble. I imagine running my fingers through. My teeth biting into my lower lip, lusting dangerously. His eyes had a fire, like it was on a hunt, I got the sense it was always that way. My eyes did a full walk over his 6 foot 5 inches of biceps and calves cuddled by a lazy black polo shirt winged by a leather jacket; the kind only bad boys wore. A walking fantasy, a proper fantasy God, I moan inwardly. Catherine Kent! Stop lusting, his brother just died; your intended just died, behave yourself. My eyes fall to his long legs kissed by tight black jeans. Damn I wish I were the pants. I
Alexander’s POV “Is it true?…” Olivia blazes into Harry’s study, wearing a scowl. She crosses her arms over her chest, adjusting her weight on one hip. “You’re really taking a wife? The news is all over the Manor” She ensues, anger flashing in her feline eyes. My eyes cruise her figure, walking up her black, high waisted, split hem mini skirt, her snatched waist holding her tucked shirt and her famous push-up cleavage standing out. Her high cheek bones jut upwards, clenched jaw and burgundy lips pointing forward. Her fuming anger makes her even more inviting, stroking my appetite for her. I already know the reason for her infested mood, Catherine Kent. I draw closer to her. “It’s the fucking Clifford constitution” “And since when does the rebel of Sussex care about a fucking constitution…much less, Clifford’s?” She flares, taking my eyes fiercely. “I don’t… I guess I am just not pathetic enough to let Clifford Empire dissipate into thin air or maybe I just want to piss on A
Alexander’s POV The burial ceremony commenced with hymns from the choir and sermons from the priest. I was seated at the front row seat of the two way funeral arrangement with Arthur’s widow by my side. Partners, friends, dignitaries from all around the world spread out around me. Arthur Clifford was a powerful man and everyone wanted to pay their last respect. Stop! I yell inwardly as sympathetic gawks track me; concoctions of pity, gross care and attention flood my direction. Where were they when I needed them?. No one saw invisible Alexander, until now when my grandfather and beloved brother lay lifeless on the ground, I finally get a little bit of attention. Well guess what? Alexander Clifford does not need it, he outgrew it, he survived without it, he can do without it. Simon was delivering the Eulogy of my grandfather and brother and as I listened, it dawned on me why I refused to deliver it in the first place. I couldn’t speak of a love that I neither showed nor received
Alexander’s POV “Alexander…” A crusty voice calls from behind me. I summarize one felicitation and turn to the other. It’s uncle Richard; Daddy’s younger brother. “Or should I say Rebel of Sussex” His lips slice with a smile. “Uncle Richard” I give a half-suppressed laugh. It’s been a while since I have seen him. My fault anyway. I was mostly a ghost around these parts. “I am so sorry Alexander” He cups a hug, about fifty seconds long. I almost yank him off me but he saves himself, letting me go. “Olivia” He turns to her, a riddled smile slices his lips. She was standing right next to me. “Richard” She releases her rich artificial smile, one that indicates irritation rather than pleasure. Olivia doesn’t like Richard, I gather but I am glad I know nothing of it. I hate drama and I run fast enough from it every single time. “Looking beautiful as always” He takes up her hand and pecks the back of her palm. “I am so sorry for your loss” His derisive undertone, very palpabl
Alexander’s POV “Did your father not teach you not to eye another man while your husband is standing right there in front of you?” I rake, tearing at her vapid blue eyes. Her lips parted and then her eyes fell to the tight grip of my hand on her wrist. I unplug my hand instantly. She rubbed on her tender wrist, her eyes milking mine. Don’t do that Angel; that’s not going to work on me. Answer the fucking question. “Would you rather be in Simon’s bed?” I drill her further, refusing to allow her emotional tantrum work on me. “No” She trembled, a teardrop leaving her right eye. Fucking soft angel, I curse under my breath. “Don’t cry” I command. Her cheeks flush, her jaw tightens, her nostrils flare outward and it is evident that a struggle was going on in her mind. Come on Angel, say what you want to say. “Are you jealous?” She rasps. I scoff and then laugh a little. I actually find it amusing that she would think she could muster the power to make me jealous. “You flatter y
Catherine’s POVThe rippling sounds of the shower continued as I laid still in the bed, feeling crudely unsatisfied, abandoned, and used; I felt worse than a whore, more like a hen ravaged by a cock in heat. Undignified. Not even a single touch, just a quick rump and it was over. But that's what you signed up for Catherine. He was explicitly clear with you; the arrogant demon was very clear; this is what you accepted.Fuck you Alexander Clifford! Fuck you for killing my fantasies; fuck you for making me feel this way; I scrambled to my feet with what was left of my dignity. I cringe at first when my feet touch the cold ground, convincing me to lay back in bed but I refuse. My dissatisfaction had transposed to rage, fierce rage and I could burn him if my eyes met him in this instant. I tiptoed, ignoring the warnings of the cold floor to fetch my dress, I wore it over my body as quickly as I could, timing the sound of the shower. I would kill him if I saw him, best I disappear while we
Catherine’s POV “I’m—I’m jus—-“ I stuttered weakly. “Get up” He commanded and my legs obeyed as if they had ears, as if they could see the frightening eyes of Alexander Clifford. His eyes reached for his blue robe before his hands snatched them from his bed side and clothed himself. He immediately took the ground, his tall fury towering over me. “What are you doing in my bedroom?” His breathy voice echoed as his fiery eyes struck fear into me. “It’s—o—our—bed—room” I stuttered “No!” He exclaimed, glaring at me. “This is my bedroom, you have your bedroom, down the hall. You will sleep there, you will wake there and you will not enter into my room unless I bring you here myself” My lips trembled with words that couldn’t seem to form. What the hell was he saying? I only stayed in that room because we were not yet married, now we are, what does this devil mean?! “But we are married” The words came out of my mouth like air forced out of a ballon and his eyes glared with irr
Alexander’s POVI struggle with the buttons on my shirt as I muttered curses under my breath at the mental picture of Richard Clifford. I had returned earlier than I was meant to, thanks to uncle Richard. He had thrown the first punch in this battle, I hope he was ready for how Alexander Clifford retaliates.“Hey baby” I hear Olivia Clarke’s scaly voice creep into my bedroom. I turn, and she is glowing in her little black dress. How did she know I needed her? I sigh, surrendering to her like she is water in a desert.“Who has gotten my baby so rumpled…huh?” She snakes her arms around my neck and I get filled with immense satisfaction. I inhale my usual dose of acceptance. With Oliva Clarke, I could be myself, my reckless, rugged self without a single care in the world.I draw her in so her relishing bosom grazes my chest. “Richard fucking Clifford thinks he can mess with me”“Oh dear…that fool, he has no idea who he is messing with….” Her finger begin a walk down my torso, her usua