First Comes By Karisma Chapter Five Rated: PG-13 Genre: Romance, Alt Karisma456@hotmail.com Standard Disclaimers Apply June 2001 Serena knew she had to break her engagement. Not that this was anytime to stand firm in morality, but what she had done with Darien, even kissing, was wrong. If she was that dedicated to Greg, that passionate about marriage and life with him, she would have pushed away Darien without hesitation. But she hadn’t. And that meant it wasn’t fair to her or Greg to keep up the pretense of their engagement. The only question now was when and how to break the news. She had a feeling Greg would not be especially shocked, nor would he try and deny their lack of passion together. As Serena got ready for the meeting that morning, she chewed her lower lip anxiously, wondering when the timing would be right to approach Greg. She finally decided that after the divorce was settled, she would tell him. She took a deep breath and entered the formidable building of the destined meeting. Serena looked over at her lawyer, Ms. Lita Benson, and smiled shakily. “Serena,” Lita chided, patting her smart chignon lightly. “We’ll be fine. You said you were on amicable terms with Dr. Mathison. Well, then this should be cake—I’ve handled these before—millions of them.” “Millions of divorces—what a reassuring thought,” Serena muttered wryly, jabbing the elevator button nervously. In truth she did not know why she was so nervous. She and Darien had last seen each other on friendly terms—after their last kiss, their next meeting had been awkward for her, but smooth for him. He managed to make her feel at ease, as if they were nothing more than good friends. He had then told her the dates for the divorce meetings and parted courteously. When they stepped in the vast meeting room, Serena felt herself immediately relax at the warm smile Darien gave her. Flicking her gaze over to Mr. Andrew Stevens, Darien’s lawyer, she wasn’t too comforted by his aloof manner. He shuffled papers coldly, barely registering their presence in the room. When he did look up, his gaze changed to flick over Lita with interest before resuming his previous task. “Why don’t we get started?” Darien finally suggested, his voice unusually loud in the large room. She walked over to the large conference table and chose a seat to the left of Andrew Stevens. Darien did not claim the seat at the head of the table, instead, he opted to sit across from her, watching her closely. He nonchalantly slung his long body in the comfortable seat, propping one ankle on his other leg’s thigh. His casual demeanor was that of an observer, as if he had no paramount importance in the grounds for them gathering here today. Lita icily sat next to Serena, narrowing her gaze at Darien’s seemingly open manner and Andrew’s aloof one. The door to the conference room opened and a petite, stern woman of fifty strode in, a notepad tucked in one rigid arm. Everything about her screamed propriety as she primly sat across from Lita and opened the slim notebook. Above her black frames, she glared at the occupants of the room with the eye of a hawk, daring anyone to challenge the necessity of her presence. Serena gulped and averted her eyes, feeling very much like a recalcitrant schoolgirl. Darien smiled warmly, albeit tightly. “Now that we’re all here, would anyone like anything to drink?” Andrew and Mrs. Kingston had both expected this planned question and uttered their orders without hesitation. Serena shook her head in the negative and Lita suspiciously asked for a Scotch. “Serena?” His tone grew about ten degrees gentler. “Would you please help me?” Startled, she swallowed the growing lump in her throat and nodded, pushing her chair back to accompany him to the mini bar on the other side of the room. She watched him prepare the four drinks with ease, and a calming sensation swept over her. A belief that after this was all over, they could still manage to be friends encouraged her to smile back at his own charming one. “Serena?” “Hmm?” She looked up questioningly, her blue eyes clear with openness. “When we go back in there, some things might seem odd to you. But I want you to remember something. Can you do that for me?” His tone was imploring as he grabbed her hand and rubbed it softly with his thumb. She smiled at him reassuringly, determined to keep his friendship after this was dealt with. “Of course.” “Trust me, Serena. Trust me.” She curved her soft lips upward, curiosity furrowing her delicate eyebrows. “I do, Darien,” she said honestly, the stark validity of her statement shocking even her. He gave her hand one last squeeze and took two drinks in his hand. She carefully gripped the other ones and they walked back together, placing the desired drink in front of the specific person. Lita sipped hers and gave Serena a probing look. She was reassured by Serena’s encouraging and hopeful smile. Lita turned her gaze to Andrew and shot him a tight, cordial smile of her own. It was an invitation to begin and Andrew accepted it, beginning with rapid progression, a sneer forming on his lips the entire time. And what he said couldn’t have shocked her more. Andrew began an outline regarding how Dr. Mathison felt he deserved a bit more from his wife of nine years. And in the time he had spent with her, he had realized how he would like to get to know her more personally. He felt he deserved as much considering how generous he had been with his two million. However, in exchange for trouble, he was prepared to give her a sum of three million in addition to building Price and Company for her. For the duration of Andrew’s cold speech, Lita was glaring at him with barely concealed contempt, Serena was staring at him with enormous blue eyes. Andrew was gazing evenly into to her shattered, pallid face with ease and Darien, too, was looking at her through hooded eyes, wanting to do severe bodily damage to his lawyer for breaking the news of his decision to her in such a bawd way. He steadily looked at her, watching every nuance of her porcelain face. “How much time are we talking here?” Lita asked authoritatively, her green eyes shooting emerald daggers to a wooden Andrew. “One month.” After a few pregnant moments, she shifted her shining eyes from Andrew to him. She gazed at him as if she had just suffered a mortal blow from the last person she expected to hurt her. Then she asked the question Darien was dreading. “And if I don’t agree?” She whispered, her voice barely audible. Before Darien could soften the blow of the cruel terms in his own gentle words, Andrew decided to take it upon himself to cut through her one last time. “In that circumstance, Dr. Mathison will be forced to take away his two million proffered to you as well as retract his overly generous to the CCGW—Children’s Charity of Good Will.” That would effectively cut off any means of money or loan she had hoped of receiving to start her business. Not to mention hurt a whole lot of children out there. “But.” she swung her luminous eyes back to Darien. “We made a deal on that one, Darien. I kept quiet for a month—I held up my side of the bargain!” Standing up on shaky feet, despite Lita’s consoling hand, she struck a tremulous finger at Darien, her mouth dry with humiliation. “Remembered what I asked you to do, Serena?” He spoke quietly, meeting her fiery gaze with a quelling one of his own. “Trust you?” She shouted incredulously. “You want me to trust you! You just led me like a lamb to the slaughter and your pathetic little speech was just to truss me up, wasn’t it?” Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed her coat that was slung over the back of her chair. “Well, let me congratulate you, Dr. Mathison, you did your job wonderfully. “But not only will I not live with you for a month, I don’t even want to hear your voice. I’m filing for a restraining order—as well as getting a divorce as soon as possible!” She snatched up her purse. “I can do just fine without a business of my own, I’m sure I’ll get hired somewhere.” As she turned to stalk out of the office, Andrew’s silky voice followed her. “But what about the children, Mrs. Mathison. We musn’t forget them,” he mocked. Serena froze. Her intentions toward raising the money for the CCGW had, admittedly, been purely selfish at first. She needed to get funded for a business of her own. But then she had met the disabled and mentally retarded children she was helping. And then her business had taken the back burner for the duration of her fundraiser. Those children were wonderful kids who came from meager income families that could not afford proper care or facilities for their precious children. CCGW offered technology for them, as well as providing a summer camp with activities designed especially for them. Biting her lip to keep the sudden onslaught of tears, she stiffened her spine and walked out. Knowing she had given the appearance of telling them to shove their offer where the sun didn’t shine gave her a bit of pride. Pride she knew she would swallow when she came to his office later that day and signed those awful papers. **** Serena narrowed her blue eyes in determination. Hardening her resolve as well as her demeanor, she tilted her chin upward and brusquely walked into Darien’s office. All but kicking open the door, she glared straight ahead, barely registering Darien’s presence in the spacious room. She stormed to his desk and snatched the pen out of his surprised hand. Scribbling quickly, she scrawled her signature on three sheets of paper, her jaw clenching in anger with every stroke the expensive pen made. “You win,” she bit out, slamming the pen down on the opulent desk with enough force to make her hand smart had she not been numb with fury. Halfway to the door, she turned against her will and jabbed a long finger in his impassive face. Shaking with wrath, she unclenched her teeth and began to speak. “You,” she bit out, injecting as much scorn as she could manage into her terse words, “Are a sadistic, cruel man who derives pleasure from seeing others squirm beneath them, breaking them to bend to his will.” Tears stung her eyes, she ignored them, hating them for giving her the appearance of seeming weak. “Not only to I regret every meeting you, but I hate you more I ever thought was possible.” “Even more than your father?” He snapped succinctly. Instantly hating himself for the words when he saw her recoiling features, he had not choose but to watch her sparkling eyes harden with rage. “Yes,” she said calmly. “Even more than Dr. Johnson. Because, you see, regardless of my spite toward him, he did me a great favor by casting me out of his life. You, however, are causing no one happiness by forcing me to remain in yours.” She paused once again, before offering him a humorless smile one her bloodless lips. “You remind me of him in some ways, though.” And then she left. Her departing words were meant to hurt him, considering how low she held her father in esteem. But Darien did not feel them as he calmly picked up his pen and worked on his charts. He had not written down two words, however, when he grabbed the papers she had just signed and kissed them. Closing his eyes and leaning back on his chair, he breathed a sigh of relief. She had agreed. He let his taut muscles relax for the first time since she stormed out of Andrew’s conference room. He smiled for the first time since he watched her angry back stiffen with hatred toward him. Because she had agreed. He had not been proud of the tactics he had used, nor would he ever fully forgive Andrew for the way he had manipulated her emotions. And Serena had full reason to believe her long catalogue of things to hate him was valid. But she was wrong on one count, him forcing them together would bring some happiness. Theirs. Rubbing his eyes, he grinned once more at the beautiful sheets of paper in front of him before grabbing his black overcoat and leaving the dim office. **** “Serena?” Lita’s anxious voice came over her answering machine. “Serena, call me right away when you get this—I mean it. And whatever you do, don’t sign that blasted contract!” Serena shot open her tired eyes and she relayed the message in her mind. Snatching the phone up without waiting to hear the other messages, she quickly dialed. “Lita?” “Oh, Serena! Thank God, I’ve been trying to reach you all day.” Lita nearly collapsed with relief in her chair. Her client had disappeared on her all day, leaving her to tear her hair out in anxiety. “I—I’m sorry,” she sighed, rubbing her temples in a vain attempt to relieve her pounding headache. “No matter, I just wanted to call you to remind you not to sign the papers—I’m sure we can work out a better deal.” “I already did.” “You did what?” “I signed them, Lita. I can’t let him take back all that money for those children!” “He wouldn’t have.” Serena shook her head and then, acknowledging that Lita could not see her, she voiced her thoughts. “No.” “He was bluffing, Serena. There was no way he would have retracted that donation.” Lita was back to tearing her hair, only now her nails were being gnawed as well. Her mind raced with ways to escape the signing of the contract. Temporary insanity, perhaps? “How do you know?” Serena persisted, too tired to show any other front except apathy. Lita was stuck. “Technically? I have no proof. But you can call it a hunch.” She knew; she could pinpoint in the way Darien’s intent gaze never left his distraught wife the entire meeting. Or the pained looked he suffered when her hurt and anger lashed out at him. There was no way on God’s green earth that Darien Mathison would do anything that would cause Serena Mathison anguish. In the long run, anyhow. Serena laughed bitterly. “I’m sorry, Lita. But I can’t put 100,000 dollars for those kids on the line for a “hunch”.” Lita sighed heavily. “I know. I know.” “Bye, Lita.” They hung up, each lost in a labyrinth of intense thinking, though each of their conclusions ended on quite different roads. Lita Benson calculated just how long it would take her client to realize the utter devotion her husband held for her. Serena Price Mathison wondered what she had done to deserve such cruelty from a man she trusted and inherently admired. **** Serena taped a cardboard box shut and hefted it onto another box of similar proportions. Pushing them out the door, she pressed the elevator button and waited until the doors slid open. Then, lugging her large suitcase into the metallic cube, she managed to push the boxes in as well. Following her cargo, she caught her breath and jabbed the lobby button. After several minutes, she had succeeded in dragging her copious amount of luggage into her car. Another deep breath and she was on the road, fully prepared for whatever the long day had in store for her. Hard fury was no longer in her system, a whole day of punching her pillow and yelling obscenities had taken that all out of her. Instead, in its place, was a calculating rancor that set her usually warm face into a tight line of silence. She pulled up into Darien’s large expanse of a driveway and parked, pulling her brake with a hard jerk. Gripping the steering wheel as if extracting strength, she spent a long moment with her forehead resting it. Finally firming her resolve to make Darien sick of her silence by the end of one week, she slammed her car door with enough force to let him know she had arrived…and was none to happy about it. Shoving in the key she had been given, she pushed open the ornate front door and looked around the house she had taken part in decorating. As she scanned her familiar surroundings, she realized her initial sketches for the room had been followed through with. The room was a dark shade of blue, highlighted with slivers of gold on the tapestries and vases. She stepped further into the house, the heels of her shoes tapping on the polished wood. She turned slightly, the dying sun offering few rays of dappled light. A burst of pride flamed through her as she looked at the lovely room. Her vision had been completed and it looked wonderful. Her first project. Serena felt an involuntary smile tug the corners of her soft mouth. Taking in a deep breath, she temporarily forgot about the house’s owner. “I’m glad you like it.” She spun around quickly, her high ponytail swinging around her neck. She saw him on the top step that led into the kitchen. He was below the arched entrance, his shoulder propped against the wall as he looked at her. Darien’s hands were shoved into his trouser pockets, his head slightly cocked to take in her expression. Her spine stiffened, as did her face, freezing into an impassive look of apathy. She shrugged in response to his comment and turned away from him, staring straight out the adjacent windows for a moment. Pretending to be lost in thought, she felt the palpable silence in the room as his eyes bore holes into her back; twin cobalt lasers aimed directly at her. Darien thought she looked immensely young and trim in her jean jacket and white top. He watched intently as his wife tucked her hands into the back pockets of her dark blue jeans. The diminishing sunlight played with the natural highlights of her golden hair, adding a halo to her glowing skin. He stared at her as she turned again to walk away to the expansive hallway that she also decorated. He had made quite certain that her ideas for the rooms had been followed to the letter. The three bedrooms that she had had yet to design were all left alone, patiently waiting for her to work her magic on them also. When he too entered the hallway, he saw her taut back standing still a few yards away. “Where’s my room?” She asked petulantly, not bothering to turn and face him. He quickly strode past her, making sure to brush her shoulder by “accident”. He felt her stiffen at his touch, but she didn’t utter one word as he opened a bedroom door and waited in the doorframe as she walked in first. She took one look at the room, the raw-linen bed sheets on the enormous four poster bed, the hard wood floor, the nightstands…all that she had decorated. For him. Doing a hundred and eighty degree spin on the heel of her white sneaker, she bumped straight into a hard wall. Long hands shot out to grip her upper arms, supporting her. They kept her smaller body barely a centimeter away from his own lean frame. “This is your room,” she said curtly, avoiding eye contact with those piercing eyes. He made no move to release her from his firm embrace. “I want you to stay in it.” His voice was a deep inflection and Serena hated herself for loving the sound of it. “I couldn’t.” Brushing him away with her arms, she stepped backward. “Besides, I don’t especially want to sleep in this room.” The thought of touching the things his lean fingers had brushed, sleeping on the monogrammed sheets he had… The image of those cool sheets on her skin made her shiver. Convincing herself that her shudder had been one of disgust, she tried to walk past him to exit the room. Unfortunately, he had other ideas. His tall frame and broad chest blocked the only path out and Serena simply glared at him coolly, voicing her thoughts of him silently. They remained like that for moments, each locked in a battle of wills. Finally, Serena threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Just give me another room, Darien.” She walked forward, prepared to push her way out if the need arose. He guided her back into the room easily, his voice gentle and coaxing. “None of the other rooms are finished yet.” He argued reasonably. A devilish twinkle came into his cerulean eyes. “Besides, I like the idea of you sleeping on my bed.” Choosing to ignore the subtle innuendo she herself had realized a few minutes before, she stubbornly asked, “If none of the other rooms are ready, then where will you sleep?” “Is that an invitation?” That particular insinuation extracted a gasp from her before her cheeks flamed pink at the thought. He laughed huskily at her indignant reaction. Cupping her beautiful face with both of his warm hands, he tilted her face to gaze up at his. “There’s another room where I’ll manage.” Her eyes lighted up as she pushed him away. “Then let me have that one.” “Serena,” he finally sighed. “This is my house and I want you to sleep in this room. Otherwise you’re more than welcome to join me in mine.” The roguish smirk was back and Serena glared at him. “But,” she doggedly tried once more, “this room is too masculine.” He swiftly kissed her forehead before turning to leave. “I’m sure you can add feminine touches.” And then he was gone. Serena stood in the center of the ornate room until she heard his car leave the driveway. Sighing heavily, she decided to bring her luggage in. A half an hour later all her things were put away in Darien’s room and the main bathroom. As she stuck her own shampoo on the rack next to his, an unfamiliar flutter ran through her. The same quivering feeling crossed her when she looked at the twin sinks laid in the gray marble counter. Frowning at her body’s reaction to the most unordinary things, Serena flicked her gaze to the slim watch on her wrist and decided now was as good as time to get ready for tonight. Showering in the large glass cube that was adjacent to the deep, circular spa bathtub, she washed her hair furiously, determined to treat Darien with a silent hostility from this point on. It was just simply too easy to fall into a casual pattern of bantering with that disarming man! She blow dried her hair into tousled waves around her face and shoulders and carefully applied the minimal amount of make-up. Choosing a simple, black dress with thin straps and a square neckline that fell below her knees, she zipped it up to her mid back and then double checked her appearance. Only somewhat satisfied with what she saw, she plucked a necklace out of her jewelry box. It was a clear chain with a small, diamond pendant that when put on looked like a glittering tear nestled in the hollow of her throat. Sighing, she slipped into a pair of stiletto heels and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She was somewhat surprised to see Darien working on his laptop in the living room, but did not bother to show it as she walked past him to the front door. She had only gone so far as to open it, when his sharp voice cut through her. “Where do you think you’re going?” She obligingly turned around to face his frowning face. His sleeves had been pushed up, revealing tan forearms sprinkled with dark hair. His tie was loosened around his neck, showing the golden column of his smooth skin. “Out.” “You’re not going anywhere tonight,” he stated smoothly, turning his head back to his computer screen and effectively giving the signal that he deemed the conversation over. “And just why aren’t I?” “If you read the contract you signed, you’ll know that it clearly states our nights will be spent in each other’s company.” He typed a few keys casually, not bothering to glance up at her. She sputtered for a few moments before gathering her sense of coherency. “You can’t just keep me locked in her with you like—like some toy for your sick pleasure!” “Can’t I?” He cocked one sardonic brow in speculation. Smiling at her flabbergasted expression, he continued, “And if I had any “sick pleasures” in mind, I can assure you we wouldn’t be talking as of now.” He glanced pointedly down the hall to where his bedroom was and Serena gasped at the clearly placed intimation and her temper increased tenfold. “I’m meeting Greg tonight and there is nothing you can do to stop me!” She jerked open the door. “But think of the children, Serena. We musn’t forget them,” Darien nonchalantly mimicked his lawyer’s chant and Serena slammed the front door shut, the noise vibrating through the quiet house. Smiling serenely, he picked up the black phone next to him and raised it to her seething figure. “Call Greg up and tell him Dr. and Mrs. Mathison would be delighted to join him and Amy for dinner tomorrow night.” Snatching the phone away from him, she snapped furiously, “You sick, twisted, arrogant—” “Ah, ah, ah,” he sang calmly, “I don’t want to have to call the police and report spousal abuse.” The sound of his deep chuckles followed her all the way back to her room as she stalked over and slammed yet another door as hard as she could. **** The next day Darien spent at home with Serena. ‘With’ meaning they were under the same roof together. Other than that, it was as if they were ghosts to each other. Every time Darien entered a room, Serena would leave it. If she found she had no place to go, she’d escape to the safe haven of her (Darien’s) room. Gone was the amusing anger she had shown time and time again. In its place was a chilling indifference that struck his nerves. He liked the emotion Serena showed on her expressive face--be it desire or spite. He loved the sparks her blue eyes shot when she was angry as opposed to the dull flicker they showed of disinterest. Even the childish silent treatment would show she was angry enough to care. Instead, she simply mumbled a few phrases when she was asked a question and promptly left. Darien didn’t know how much more of this he could tolerate. She was sullen and quiet; it was like a ghost was living with him, sharing his house, not the lively, humorous women he had become enamored with. He got ready for their dinner in the smaller, yet lavish bathroom, wondering what the evening would bring as he knotted his cobalt, silk tie. Glaring at his impeccable appearance, he stonily cultivated ways to bring his wife out of the bubble she had inhabited that day. When no ideas seemed plausible, he sighed angrily and grabbed his wallet and keys. Striding to the living with long legs, he was surprised to see an empty living room. Looking at the imprinted dish near the front door, he realized her car keys were missing. She had left without him.