First Comes By Karisma Chapter Six Romance, Alt. Rating: PG-13 Karisma456@hotmail.com Standard Disclaimers Apply July 2001 Serena impatiently waited for Greg to meet her outside the posh restaurant. Wrapping her sheer blue wrap tighter around her, she scolded herself for not choosing a dress with more material on it. The ice blue sheath dress with its glittering sequins and delicate white rhinestones wasn’t made for a cold night. When she spotted a man’s lean frame incased in a suit coming toward her, she sighed with relief. Amy was not with him. It gave her more time to break this awful news. “Greg.” She smiled brightly and let herself be pecked on the cheek. “This is going to seem sudden and even quite awful of me.” She sucked in a shuddering breath and looked up at his reassuring smile with guilt. “I can’t marry you, Greg.” He frowned, his dark brows knitting together. “Why not?” “Because—because I don’t deserve you,” she blurted out, biting her lip with frustration at the lack of coherency she was making. “Don’t be ridiculous, Serena. Come on inside.” He put his arm on her elbow, prepared to lead her in the warm restaurant. She resisted. “I haven’t been honest with you, Greg. I was attracted to Darien Mathison for a period of time and…” His eyes darkened. “You slept with him?” “No!” She looked insulted at the notion. “We kissed…a few times.” She rubbed her upper arms for warmth. Reminding herself it was the chill and not the thought of Darien’s lips on her own that sent shivers through her, she focused her attention on Greg. “So you’re in love with him?” “No. We’re not together—we will never be. But regardless of that, you deserve someone who isn’t attracted to another man while engaged to you.” She swallowed; Greg had been one of her closest friends for a long time, losing him like this would be a harsh blow. “I’m sorry.” He simply nodded and stared at a spot over her head for a moment. Before he could say anything more, Amy breezed by them, her cocktail dress swinging around her shapely legs. “Hello, all,” she chirped, not detecting the tense mood that lay before her. Darien came immediately after, taking Serena’s elbow after an icy glare. He looked at Greg with a mixture of polite aloofness and concealed disdain. They walked in and were seated immediately. The two couples sat silently, no body sure of what to say or do. They did not notice the waiter eye them carefully and head toward the nearest phone. “You said you wanted a story?” He whispered into the mouthpiece. Charlie Kent greedily leaned in his chair a few miles away. Grabbing his camera, he hurried down to one of the classiest restaurant in town, hungry for a top story. Meanwhile, Amy was struggling with conversation. She cheerfully talked about everything and nothing under the sun, trying valiantly to dismiss the awkwardness that enveloped the four adults like a suffocating cloak. Finally, even she ran out of suitable topics. It was then she settled on an erroneous topic. “So how goes the living arrangements?” She said blithely, stabbing her meat with a fork. When she looked up, she found Darien looking mighty pleased and Serena looking like she wanted to crawl under the table and shrivel into a little ball. Greg, however, appeared to be furious. “You’re living together?” He seethed; he obviously thought Serena had lied to him about their alleged non-existent relationship. “That’s right,” Darien replied mutinously and was the object of Greg’s next glare. “How quaint,” Greg snapped, reaching for his wine and drowning its contents. He signaled for another and Serena grew worried; Greg was never a heavy drinker. He was much too cautious for such a thing. “Isn’t it?” Darien said guilelessly, his hand clenching below the table. Serena, against her better judgement, decided she needed advice. Fast. Signaling to Amy, they both excused themselves to the bathroom. “You didn’t tell him?” Amy bit out, looking angrier than Greg himself. Serena, surprised to be attacked by her friend, widened her eyes. “I was going to, except you decided to beat me to the punch.” Amy groaned and took out a tube of lipstick, quickly refreshing her coat. “What a night,” she muttered. “The best part isn’t over, we still have dinner to finish,” Serena bit out bitterly, her face grim. “What is with Darien tonight?” Amy suddenly asked, blotting her lips critically. Serena’s head snapped up. “What?” She barked “He’s totally attacking Greg.” “Greg’s making an ass out of himself!” “Only because Darien’s provoking him!” “I don’t believe this. First you can’t stand Greg and now you’re defending him?” Serena stared at her friend’s flushed face through the mirror, deriving satisfaction when Amy looked away and blushed. Back at the table, Greg was consuming more wine than he was used to, slurring his speech and thought. “Where did you go to college?” Darien traced the edge of his water glass, looking quite bored. “Harvard.” Greg smirked. “Yale.” Darien gave him a tight smile, his eyes steady on where Serena would appear once she came back from the restroom. “Serena’s father is a neurosurgeon.” “I know,” Darien replied tersely. “Then I wonder what she’d want with another pompous man with a degree—you’d think she would have had enough with your type.” The button was meant to push and it did. Darien’s eyes narrowed into twin lasers as he clenched his jaw and smiled innocently. “Perhaps it’s because your type seems to stare at her best friend’s legs all the time instead of her.” The mark darkened Greg’s brown eyes as he jumped up somewhat staggeringly. “You son of a—” He cut himself off while swinging wildly in the general direction of Darien’s face. Darien whose attention had been on where the women’s restroom was, only had time to block with his left arm and swing back with his right. He caught Greg’s jaw cleanly and the other man went reeling to the floor where he stayed. Amy ran forward, kneeling down by Greg’s unconscious body, all the while, muttering curses up at a grim Darien. Amy finally stood up and showed the temper that was true to her nature; she began screaming incoherently at Darien, throwing her hands up and expostulating like mad. Darien, at first, tried to calm her down, but when the endeavor proved to be fruitless, he began yelling right back, insisting it was Greg who had thrown the first punch. Serena stared at the scene in mortification. She shook her head in disbelief and stomped right past them, both too engrossed to notice her militant posture. Grabbing her purse, she stalked out of the restaurant, unnoticed by her two awake dinner companions. However, someone else did notice. He noticed a whole lot more than he thought was possible. And as his smile grew, the shutter went off faster and faster. And as the argument continued in front of him, they didn’t even notice the flashing photos being taken at a rapid pace behind the decorative fake tree. **** Serena stormed through Darien’s house, treating herself to one enraged growl/scream. When that was done and her fury was still pouring through her, she kicked a wall. A big mistake in open toed shoes. Whimpering and swearing, she stormed to her room and changed into a tank top and pajama pants. Looking at her throbbing eye, she growled once more at Amy, Greg, and Darien for the ruckus they caused. She stretched under the covers, her hair fanning the soft pillow, and stared up at the ceiling, her hands linked over her stomach above the sleek covers. Time lapsed slowly and quickly as she thought about Darien and Greg. Greg and Darien. Greg and her were over. That much was clear. But it seemed her tragedy with Darien had just begun. They were living together. They were married. It did not seem wrong at all. But they were not in love. She didn’t even like him! Well, admittedly, she was attracted to him. What woman wouldn’t be? He was the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome. But that didn’t make him a nice person, one that she could love and be loved by. That brought on another question that Serena hadn’t had the time to think about. Why was Darien doing all of this? Surely this wasn’t how a doctor got his kicks, forcing women to live with him for the duration of a month, then sending them on their merry way. No, in the time she had spent with him, Darien seemed the antithesis of the man who had formed that cruel contract. He was warm and tender, a sense of humor, intelligent, romantic, and a heck of a kisser. With the last thought, she rolled over and buried her face into the pillow. She must not think of those drugging kisses! They were her undoing then and now was not the time to go soft. He had humiliated her by creating a brawl in the most established restaurants in the city. That was unforgivable. Serena took in a heavy breath and inhaled the lingering smell of the pillow cover and sheets. It was Darien’s smell: clean and fresh and male. She groaned and threw the pillow on the hardwood floor, flopping down on the flat mattress. It was then she heard the undeniable click of the door being opened and softly shut. He was trying to be discreet! Did he think she would actually fall asleep after all that? Anger rose again and Serena glanced over at the glowing clock on the other side of the bed. Three A.M. Serena was still for a half an hour, listening to him quietly creep in the hallway and slip into his bedroom. Her rage grew so strong, she wanted nothing more than to jump out of bed and march over to his room and hit him repeatedly. So she did. Only, she crept of bed patiently, tip-toed down the hall to his room, and slipped in through the doorway. She stood over him in the dark moonlight, watching him sleep peacefully. Darien was sleeping on his back, stretched over the covers in nothing more than a pair of dark blue pajama bottoms. He, too, had the comings of a black eye, but she did not acknowledge that as she raised the rectangular object she had brought with her. “You sniveling, pompous fool!” She shrieked loudly, her splitting cry cutting through the silence like a knife through butter. To punctuate her words, she sent three harsh blows of the pillow down on his head. He woke up at the first of her words and was greeted by blows raining down on his head. “What the—” He muttered huskily, sleep clogging his throat. She wasn’t finished. “You pretentious, incorrigible son of a—”She was cut off by him bringing her down to the bed in one, deft move. She landed on her back, she breath knocked out of her. Darien pinned her fighting arms above her head and slung a leg over her legs to keep her still. She glared up at him defiantly, her eyes taking on the appearance of blue ice. “What the hell has gotten into you?” He demanded, his once sleepy eyes now alert and thoroughly in a snit She glared at him, astonished at his ignorance. “What do you mean ‘what has gotten into me’? What is wrong with your head!” She tried fruitlessly to escape from underneath him. “You don’t start punching people in the middle of dinner! Or don’t they teach you that in med school?” His head sagged to an area of the bed right beside her neck. His face was tired and taut. “Serena…” he trailed off, his lips tickling her neck lightly. She shivered and he felt it from under him. “Stop,” she said quietly, but her protests sounded pathetically weak even to her own ears. His lips continued a tangoing dance from her neck to her ear and she sighed slightly with content. Closing her eyes, she raised her hands up his hard bare chest to loop around his neck. “Serena,” he muttered again, tracing her jawline with kisses up to her lips. “Hmm?” She asked headily, not completely aware of anything except how wonderful his weight felt on top of her, or how right this all felt. “Nothing, I just like saying your name.” She didn’t get a chance to respond because his lips were on hers, crushing any retort she might have had. His warm hands felt the smooth skin of her flat stomach as he played with the hem of her tank top. It was the feel of Darien’s large hand on her bare spine that sent her pushing him away and sitting up herself. She took in a deep breath and scrupulously avoided his intense eyes as she gathered herself to stand. Serena felt his warm hand cover her own against the soft mattress. She instinctively swung her head a ways back. It was a large mistake. With ruffled hair and a bare chest, Dr. Mathison looked more delectable than in a suit. When his arms came around her, she didn’t resist, but didn’t provide any encouragement. Darien gently brought both of them down against the pillows. Sensing her stiffening spine, he whispered in her ear, “Just let me hold you.” His voice was husky with need and Serena buried her face in the hollow of his neck, listening to the uneven beat of his heart. Soon enough, it slowed down and she felt herself drifting off to a warm cloud of slumber. Darien, however, was wide-awake, looking down at the soft woman in his arms. Perching his chin on her fragrant hair, he rubbed his cheek against its silky texture. His worried mind drifted to the events that would take place in a month’s time. She would leave; their deal would be over, both sides having completed their stipulations. His jaw hardened as he watched her thick eyelashes flutter, forming graceful crescents on her curved cheekbone. His arms tightened reflexively around her, as if someone was trying to take her away. Not relaxing his hold as she shifted slightly, he strengthened his resolve. Serena couldn’t leave—not him or his life. **** Serena woke up the next morning to feel enveloped in a wondrously warm blanket. Sighing involuntarily, she snuffled deeper in the covers, her belly warm under the softened sheets. She stiffened when she felt something warm nuzzle the nape of her neck and her bare upper back. “Darien?” She whispered, not able to see him behind her. “What are you doing?” “Having breakfast,” he mumbled, tracing the arc of her spine with his lips. “Stop that!” She said, sharper than she intended. He either did not notice her tone, or chose to ignore it. Working his way back up her back to her cheek, he only stopped when she flipped over, bringing her nose to nose with him. With one desperate shove, she pushed him away and sat up, readjusting her night clothes. Walking stiffly to the door, she felt Darien’s gaze on her all the way down the hall to her own room. It only took a few minutes to remember the previous night’s events. Groaning, she showered and dressed in record time, her only concern Amy’s welfare. On her way out the door, she passed the small mirror hung over the table where their keys were held. To put it delicately, she looked like hell. The shower and sleep had done nothing to soothe the tension that had followed her around for over a week. Groaning once again, she shoved on a small pair of black sunglasses and slammed the door behind her. **** Amy dumped out the partially melted ice in the cloth and restacked it with fresh cubes. Folding the damp cloth, she walked over to her tasteful coach and tenderly placed it over the man’s eye. Greg groaned in discomfort before the numbness the ice provided kicked in. Looking up into Amy’s concerned blue eyes, he allowed himself to realize how wonderful she looked in her black cocktail dress. She sat next to him, crossing her shapely legs instinctively. “Are you all right?” She finally asked, breaking the silence that had enveloped them for hours. “Just my pride,” he grunted, shifting the makeshift ice pack over. “It’ll recover.” She smiled softly at him and he was taken back by the serene beauty of her lips curving upward slightly. “If I had known this would have happened, I never would have opened my big mouth.” She smiled again, this time self-deprecatingly. “Hey.” Greg prodded gently, bringing her bright eyes back to his face. “Forget about it.” He smiled, genuinely and she was helpless but to grin back. His smile disappeared. “It’s over, isn’t it?” Amy’s heart sank at his desolate tone. Serena. “Yes,” she whispered achingly, “It is.” She wanted to scream and shout and raise hell how they were never meant for each other, anyhow. She wanted to yell that he needed someone else, someone loud, someone spontaneous, someone… someone like her. Instead she poured him some coffee for his hangover and leaned against the cushions. “I suppose in some way, this is for the best.” Greg stared into the dark liquid that filled his ceramic mug with heat. “Perhaps you were meant to be with someone else,” she said quietly and felt his gaze move to her profile. “Perhaps,” he echoed, looking away from her serious face. It was then something inside of her snapped. She laughed bitterly, “Are you that blind, Greg?” Her caustic tone took him by surprise. “What?” “Are you really that dumb that you can’t see what’s going on right before your eyes?” She jumped up, her voice shouting loudly in the small living room. Angry with herself and him, she put her pride on the line. “I love you.” His brown eyes widened. “You hate me.” He reminded her. “You’re always telling me so.” She shook her head ruefully. “When you were a kid on the playground, did you ever pull a girl’s pigtails? Did you do it because you liked her? Well, it’s the same for girls.” He stared at her blushing face in shock. He stood up himself and ran all ten fingers through his rumpled hair. “Amy—” Greg didn’t get another word out because Amy stood on tiptoes and gave him the most tingling kiss of his life. Passion and headiness overwhelmed him as he sank back on the couch, taking Amy with him. He pulled away long enough to look into her sparkling eyes. “We probably shouldn’t,” he warned, true to his character. Amy groaned, pulling his head back down to hers. “Shut up,” she whispered affectionately before the distance between their mouths was closed. Moments later they were still so engrossed in the new discovery of each other’s mouths and caresses, the quiet figure that slipped into the apartment with the key her friend had given her was undetected. Even as her mouth gaped open in shock, the couple on the couch was still ardently embracing. And neither noticed as the woman, still somewhat in shock, retraced her steps out of the apartment building. **** Serena walked down the street to her car and caught a glimpse of her as she passing a vending stand. Backtracking, she stared in astonishment at a picture of her, Darien, Greg, and Amy in the restaurant. Darien and Greg both had their arms raised up, obviously settling a dispute with their fists. Serena and Amy were in the background, surprise etched in their faces. The picture next to that was right after Darien had punched Greg; Greg was on the floor, Amy was lunging for Darien, her hands up in a crazed dance, and Serena was walking past them over Greg. The title the tabloid had chosen made Serena cringe more than the horrendous pictures. Surgeon’s Hands Capable of More Than Operations. It was then Serena grew livid; this was entirely due to male egos and a misplaced sense of possessiveness. How dare they? How dare Darien and Greg humiliate the four of them in such a manner? Serena bought the tabloid and snatched up her change with such fury that the vender recoiled away from her. Too infuriated to notice the suspicious looks people were sending her, she stomped to her car and slammed the door with strength she did not know she possessed. It took Serena the drive home to realize that rather than dwell on the fact she had been betrayed by her best friend and fiancé, she was more concerned with the public scrutiny they would all be subjected to. Even with the refreshing memory of Amy and Greg’s passionate embrace, all that was running through her veins was surprise. Not jealousy, a sense of betrayal, or anger. She ran through her past conversations with Greg and Amy, thinking of each nuance that might of led them to such a passionate affair. When all she came up with was barbs and jabs directed at each other, she was at a loss for how this might of happened. And for how long it had been going on. Serena was still very much in shock when she stepped up on Darien’s front porch, having forgotten her key in her car. She was about to knock when the door was swung open. Darien stood on the other end of it, clad in jeans and a leather jacket. He wore a similar pair of black sunglasses, covering his surprised gaze down at the distraught female. Serena watched with narrowed eyes as saw him run a lean hand through his thick hair. An irrational, but completely justified, burst of anger spurted through her. Narrowing her eyes under her glasses, she spat, “You! “ Darien smiled wryly and made quite of show of checking behind him. “Yes, me.” “Why is it that every since you have come into my life, things—things start to happen?” She jabbed a finger at his chest and moved forward, leaving the door open behind her as she stalked ahead. He looked more amused at her defiant stance than frightened. “What type of things?” She snorted. “I never used to get into bar brawls before you came along! And I certainly never went on dates with my husband and fiancé!” He smiled. “You can thank me for that. How many women can honestly say that?” It only served to increase her agitation. She ran a hand through her tousled hair, desperately fighting for order in her chaotic mind. “Stop that!” “Stop what?” “Making a mockery of everything you’ve done!” “And what have I done?” Serena shoved the tabloid in his face. “In addition to the obvious, you have subjected Amy, Greg, and I to public scrutiny! I haven’t been this exploited since—” She cut herself off and flushed. He finished for her, his tone soft and prodding, “Since your father disowned you?” “Yes!” She snapped spitefully. “Yes!” She yanked off her glasses and glared up at him. “The only blessing I can possible think of is that I don’t have a black eye. Unlike poor Greg.” She paused, recalling what she had just witnessed. “Although I somewhat hope Greg’s is quite horrendous. In fact, I hope it covers his entire face.” She smiled a bit, giving the intimation that she was only teasing. Darien’s brow furrowed in confusion and Serena spent the next minutes giving a blow-by-blow of what she had unwittingly discovered on her short visit to Amy’s apartment. When she was done with her story, she was trying hard not to laugh rather than cry. The whole, absurd tale seemed more humorous than sordid. “It’s a terrible thing, you know.” She pulled her face into that of complete seriousness. “Having your best friend and fiancé kiss right in front of you.” “It certainly is,” He deadpanned. “ You’d think she’d have better taste.” Serena smothered her laugh to the best of her ability. Smacking his arm lightly for such a comment, she belied the blow with her irrepressible giggles. They were both laughing in the living room by the time she had completed her sentence. Darien had pulled her into his arms at some point in their friendly exchange and now she leaned against him, her cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his button down dress shirt. It was then Serena realized something Darien had known for quite some time. The intimacy of their position was one of lovers. Darien angled his mouth over hers, but was cut off by Serena stepping away from him quickly and shoving her hair away from her face in a nervous quandary. She cleared her throat, prepared to speak and then realized she could say nothing. “I—” “Serena,” he spoke softly. “It’s okay to kiss me. I am your husband, you know.” She grew even more agitated at his remark. “But you’re not! Not in the true sense of the word.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t know what you hope to gain by keeping me here, Darien. I really don’t. But no matter what happens, we’re still going to go our separate ways after this month.” He nodded slowly, as if he was carefully weighing all she had said. “I see.” Then he leaned forward and swiftly brushed her lips with his own. She recoiled from the warmth, taking a stunned step back. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?” She asked, shocked and breathless. “I heard you, but I was hoping you’d use that beautiful mouth for something other than talking.” He grinned boyishly and took a step forward. Serena took one pace back for every one that he took forward. The seemingly endless pursuit continued until Serena had her back against the mantel above the stone fireplace. Pressing further against it, she shrunk back from his amused gaze. His eyes were twinkling at mirth from her obvious quandary. His lips nuzzled her ear, flicking the delicate lobe playfully. When he tried to kiss her lips, she moved her head sideways she he caught the corner of her mouth. Smiling, he placed butterfly kisses on her jaw line, moving to her temple before descending down back to her lips. This time he caught her mouth…and not much else. She was about as responsive as a telephone pole. It took all of Serena’s self control to remain rigid in his arms. When the warmth of his mouth assaulted hers, she did not fight, but did not give any encouragement. Darien sensed her unwillingness and after a while broke away from her. She was surprised to note he did not look annoyed in the least. Rather, he was flashing her a one sided grin. The kind that flashed a row of perfectly white teeth. The kind that made his cobalt eyes crinkle in the corners. Sucking in her breath she tried to no avail to control her heartbeat as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “If you kiss me back, I’ll make it four million.” He kissed her neck tenderly. “I would have thought bribery was beneath you.” she injected as much disdain as she possibly could in her voice. She felt him smile against her. “Anything for you, my dear. Anything for you.” His head lowered to plant a series of light kisses down the trail of her throat to her collarbone. The sensations she was getting from the caresses were far too dizzying to be safe. Serena nervously asked, “Darien, what are you doing.” His lips continued their dogged path. “Kissing.” He darted his tongue out and felt her shiver. “My wife.” She laughed and the outcome sounded high pitched and fake to ever her own ears. “Well, I’m up here, not down there.” He chuckled richly, the timbre deep and pleasant. He lifted his head and looked pointedly at her mouth. “So you are.” The telephone rang, jarring them both out of the illusion of reclusion he had created. Darien saw it as the worst invention Alexander Graham Bell could have possibly thought of. Serena viewed it as a benediction from up above. She scooted away from him and laughed shrilly at his peeved expression. He exited the room to answer its piercing demand and Serena blew out her breath, flopping herself on the couch, her head cushioned against the armrest. She had flung an arm over her tired eyes, dimly aware of the short, hushed conversation that seeped through the walls. When it was obvious that Darien had hung up, she lifted her heavy arm to blink at the suddenly bright lights. Directly above her was Darien, smiling tenderly down at her. She sat up, self-conscious at the vulnerable position. “So who was on the phone?” She asked with false cheeriness. “Dr. Stanhope,” he answered casually, standing over her, his formidable height suddenly twice as intimidating. “I do believe the scandal over those photos has called into question my qualifications for the fellowship.” Serena’s hand flew to her mouth in shock and guilt. Here she had been yelling and carrying on about the effect his actions had on others, when he was bearing the brunt of it all. He had lost what he had fought so hard to acquire. Ironically, if it were not for his desire for the fellowship, the restaurant scene would not have ensued. Shaking her head at the mind games her head was playing, she turned her face upward and spoke, “I am terribly sorry, Darien. I know how much it meant to you.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I have better things to do, anyhow.” “Like what?” She felt a warm burst of pride in her at how wonderfully cordial and forgiving he was behaving. Why, he was acting as if it barely mattered to him at all, to save her from feeling any more guilt! He swooped down to pick her up easily and she wrapped her arms around his neck for support. “Like,” he replied, grinning. “Taking my wife to bed. Like keeping her there for about a month.” Serena blushed and opened her mouth to request that her put her down. But he continued, “Like shutting her up because all she ever wants to do is fight.” He kissed her swiftly and squarely on the mouth, making his way to her bedroom. “Darien…” “What are you waiting for, Serena? A marriage certificate? I have one in my pocket.” “Darien… “You know I love you, Serena, but sometimes you really need to know when to be quiet.” **** “Wait a minute,” Serena sat up, bringing the smooth sheet with her as she went. “You love me?” Darien smiled at her boyishly. “Of course, you think I spend three million on all of my wives?” She threw a pillow at him and he dodged it, grabbing her instead. Running his warm hands up and down her bare arms, he rubbed his nose lightly with her own. “Do you really?” She whispered, her bright eyes solemn. “Yes,” he answered with just as much graveness. “Did you honestly not know that?” Her moist eyes and trembling lip answered him more than words could. “Oh, Serena,” he whispered huskily, bending down to kiss her. Serena suddenly realized how important and dire it was to have his love, and how relieving and joyful it was to know she had it. Because she had unwittingly loved him all along, from their very first kiss. Tears stung her eyes and slipped down her soft cheeks. They did not travel far because Darien sipped them away with small, butterfly kisses. “You’re not doing much for my image, Serena,” he teased lightly, framing her face with both of his warm hands. “Not many women cry after I’ve made love to them.” “Exactly how many women have there been?” He pretended to mull over it, cocking his head to the side in deep contemplation. Finally he turned to her and shrugged. “I really don’t have that many fingers.” His face cracked into a broad grin as Serena’s blue eyes widened. He dodged the blows of her small fists easily, preferring to grab her waist to restrain her rather than defend himself. When she fell silent beneath him, Darien relaxed his hold and rolled over onto his side to look at her flushed face. He stroked her cheek reverently, bringing her to the warm hollow of his arms. When he finally spoke, his warm breath disturbed the hairs on her head. “Tell me about your father.” He felt her sigh and reach for his hand. He allowed her to clasp and unclasp their hands loosely together for a bit, fully aware that she was buying time to stall. It was a full two minutes before she spoke, but when she did the words were candid and emotional. “My parents were having problems for as long as I can remember. I can’t recall a single night when I couldn’t fall asleep because of the noise my father made when he yelled at my mother. After a while, it became easier and easier to ignore him. I used to practice lying perfectly still on my bed and drifting far away from everything. It grew effortless with time and pretty soon I was able to apply it everywhere: School, home, dull dates. “My mother and I were always very close. It was her voice that mollified my father’s jarring one. After my father slammed the door of our house enraged, my mother came in and tucked me in my bed. She talked and sang me to sleep, always making sure I was all right. For whatever attention my father lacked in giving me, my mother made sure to double hers. It was her way of trying to make up for his neglect.” Serena paused, biting her lip and Darien knew instinctively that her next words would be incredibly difficult for her. “When I was seventeen, she killed herself. Downed a bottle of pills. My father found her and didn’t say as much as a word to me about it until the next day. I was led to believe she went on a day trip with friends. He cremated her body without even letting me say good-bye. He said it was only a shell and it didn’t matter at all. But, Darien, it was so much more than that!” She turned, imploring him to believe her with her big, tear-filled eyes. He nodded and stroked the blonde hair off her forehead. Planting a kiss atop her head, he silently urged her to continue. After a few moments, she complied. “Some said that she was a coward, deserting her husband and child when they needed her the most. But I knew. It wasn’t like that. She never meant to desert me. You see, my mother was bipolar. Manic depression influenced her greatly and while her medications helped her most of the time, even pills could not guard her from the hurt my father brought. He constantly belittled her, demeaned her every chance he could. She wasn’t exceptionally bright and marrying a notoriously brilliant doctor did nothing to boost her self-esteem. He made her feel inadequate; not good enough for him or his mind. As a housewife, he criticized the way she kept the house, how she was raising me, everything.” Serena stopped for a moment, swallowing harshly. She sucked in her lower lip to gain calm and finally finished. “My mother did not kill herself, Darien. My father killed her. Slowly and very deliberately, he killed her. He killed her with his arrogance and conceit and malice. As a doctor, he was haughty enough to believe he knew everything there was know. As a neurosurgeon, one of the most difficult specialties, he was—is ignorant enough to believe he could judge others in comparison to his own merit. ” It was a while before Darien spoke. “Is that why you hate doctors?” “I don’t hate doctors, only vain ones.” She paused and Darien could practically feel her smile. “So, yeah. All doctors.” He tickled her ribs for that barb before falling in a comfortable silence. “Then what happened?” “As soon as I got accepted into college, I booked. Grabbed my duffel bag, plane ticket, and walked without looking back. I had my name changed even before my father disowned me, though you wouldn’t know it the way he tells the story.” “Why did he disown you?” His arms snaked tighter around her bare midriff, bringing her closer to him. “Long story.” “I’ve got time.” “My father wanted me to follow in his footsteps since it was learned my mother was pregnant. When he realized I was a girl, his hopes faded a bit, but he was magnanimous enough to realize women probably could excel at the same things men could. So he had dreams of yet another Johnson doctor, preferably a neurosurgeon, but he would accept a cardiologist. For a while, I entertained the notion, believing that I, too, wanted to become a doctor. I soon realized that what I wanted was to have my father be proud of me, like all children. “Years of medical school was not what was destined for me, I wanted to design and decorate. Of course, when he learned of my true ambition, it only furthered his theory that women were nothing more than flighty, vapid creatures who wanted nothing more than to “coordinate”. He told me to forget the entire idea. “But I couldn’t. I loved designing with all my heart. And when the time came to reply to the colleges that accepted me, I rejected Stanford and John Hopkins. I accepted NYU. Father went ballistic and threatened to disown me if I did not rectify the wrong I had committed immediately. I simply walked out and the rest went down in media history.” She was silent again before smiling wanly. “I’m sorry, I’ve been going on and on. What about your family?” He shrugged. “Nothing to tell.” “I find that hard to believe.” He was quiet. “Parents?” “Two.” “Give me a break, doctor.” He groaned at her tenacity, but answered nonetheless. “They were killed in a car accident when I was four. I had an uncle who looked after me until I was ready to accept my inheritance.” She nodded. “I wondered how a doctor just starting out could afford all of this.” She took in a deep breath before burying her head in the tan column of his throat, relishing in his scent and warmth. “I’m sorry about your parents,” she mumbled tiredly, a sleepy huskiness entering her voice. “It was a long time ago.” “But still…” It was quiet for the next few minutes and Darien was on the edge of sleep himself when Serena’s soft voice brought him back. “I did love my father, you know.” He crushed her to him. When he finally spoke, his punctuated his words with a kiss to her temple. “I know.”