|Loving a Liar
Author: Mainelove PM
Word has gotten out of the most shocking hookup in the country, Daniel Livingston son of the richest man in England has been caught in a steamy relationship with one of his maids. Venturing a way to fix his actions leads him into a complicated tangle.Rated: Fiction K - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 2 - Words: 3,622 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 05-21-12 - Published: 04-14-12 - id: 3013448
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Loving a Liar: Chapter 2
Ellington Estate: Sun Room
April 9, 11 1:00 PM
Lenora Ellington watched the tiny simmers of steam arise from her cup, disappearing into the air seconds later. The incredibly fine china filled to the brim with scalding Yorkshire tea, was placed back onto a small table beside her. The fatigue enveloping her brain could not be eliminated by tea or even lengthy hours spent sunbathing. Only he had the capability to perk her lifeless soul, liven her green eyes like he had a month ago.
Time had been exceptionally savage, thrashing her limp body repeatedly until it struck bone, and maybe even further. She'd waited patiently for him to return, come put an end to the constant ache that had numbed her body. However he had cowered out of her life with the dull excuse of family duties. Regardless Lenora's love for Xavier burned dangerously hot, searing her body in beautifully extravagant flames. She abhorred how fond she had become of him.
Reaching for her cup once more for a sip as lethargic sigh slipped her plump lips; moments with Xavier had been so lively and vibrant. He'd magically monopolized Lenora's life in a lovely spiral of perfection, but disappeared seconds later. Just when she was falling deep.
"Ms. Lenora," one of her butler emerged from the doorway, his polished shoes tapping against the marble floor with every step. "Your father has asked to have a word with you." She nodded slightly, her body automatically arising, stepping into the corridor. Perceiving the heavy click of her black Wagram style Louis Vuitton pumps against the gleaming floor only helped to escalate her unease.
Her father, well her father. That was another lengthy, dead chapter within her life she preferred not to rekindle on. Keeping up with the constant brawling was physically tiring, let alone mentally. The presences of her father made her atrociously stiff, weak and at a loss for protective words during most instances. The divergent mindsets and uncompromising manners had only assist to impel the two apart. Lenora had never seen importance in his circumstances and her father refused to see eye-to-eye.
She could already sense her mind becoming disorganized, a heap of messy and doubtful thoughts about yet another misdemeanor she may have taken part in. Her breathing was uneven, hardly suppressing adequately as she surveyed the events of the previous days, in search of any faulty behavior.
To an onlooker Lenora's life was glamorous, mere child's play. But, in all actuality, it was anything but perceived. She had never obtained any sort of pleasure from dressing in lavish clothing, or having a relatively gossip adorned eye surveying her every movement. And societies nettlesome hunger to pry within the depths of her private life was rather irritating to say the least. Being elite extended a quite substantial burden, one of which the pressure to be perfect was the high-water mark.
With three obstructing knocks against the heavy wooden door, she felt regret slither within her stomach. The lethal need to turn on her heel and quickly dart through the corridor was becoming rather robust as she lingered within the hallway.
"Come in Lenora." She heard her father thick British accent call through the fastened entrance. Turning the knob gradually, she stepped within the large room. "I need to speak to you about a rather important matter."
"What is it father?" On a usual account her father's significant issues consisted solely of business deals and office related matters, to which Lenora would nod measly and utter a few words to ratify her attentiveness. However, the tension could comfortably be read from her father's expressions.
"A friend of mine, William Livingston has, um, asked me for something of very high importance."
"Is it money? Shares?" she mused, her groomed eyebrows meeting in a frown.
"I don't understand."
"He's asked for your hand in marriage for his eldest son." Lenora's expression struck at her father blankly, although her infuriated insides begged to differ. She could feel rage build within her as she clenched and unclenched her fists. Marriage. How did her father expect her to take part in such an outrageous pursuit? She 24, able to marry whenever she see fit. Certainly never when arranged by her father. She could not be expected to marry a man she experienced no magnetism towards.
As if on queue, Xavier's charming face spanned within her frazzled mind, he was the one she wished to marry. The one that had infiltrated all her dreams and kindled smiled upon her face. He was the one to have taken all the attention of her heart, and the one to cause multiple eruptions of butterflies, the size of bats, within her stomach. There was no one she had coveted more that Xavier, surrendering him felt barbarous in all likelihood.
"Father, I…I don't wish to betrothed yet."
"Lenora please understand. If you were to be married our companies could merge and we would become the largest empires Europe has ever seen."
"The corporation is more important than my happiness," she cried, tears prickling the insides of her jade eyes at the cruel deliberation. Yet she refused to cry, Lenora refused to show her father just how unavailing she had become. Not the ways of an Ellington.
"Lenora they are good people, and they will keep you happy." And that was the end of it; her father was drawing the final curtain upon all her grievances. There was no compromise or concession. It was final, carved deep into stone and left untouched for eternity. Just how it would always be, unjust.
Livingston Estate: East Wing Corridors
April 9, 2011, 7:45 PM
Upon exiting his fathers study a rather somber feeling obstruct Daniel's insides as he slogged towards his suite. He was unaware of when is inability to furnish a proper struggle against his father had struck such a low. But there it was, the remains if his bruised and battered heart lay before him in a helpless mound.
No matter how much he strained, struggling to block out the nettlesome itch in the back of his mind, it had eventually developed too much to disregard. He needed Anya. He had become desperate for her touch, and frenzied for the feel of his lips grazing hers in the supplest way. He pondered upon calling her, her voice perhaps calming his growing fervor. However that seemed insufficient. The heart racing tactile sense of physical contact was what Daniel inclined, and he was determined to terminate his growing zeal. He stretched for the keys jingling idly within his dress pants pocket and hurried for his Audi R8. His steady footsteps shortly transforming into hasty jogging and afterwards into a sloppy sprint until he reached the garage.
The extensive journey was spent uttering profanities and slapping the radio on and off periodically, as the irritation prickled his brain agonizingly. His hands tightening into taut fists leading to ghostly white knuckles, as his overgrown nail dug into the soft flesh of his palms. The yearning had gradually begun to consume him, setting his insides ablaze with extravagant flames of longing and passion. The inclination, no matter how pristine and inexperienced, had his heart thrashing violently against his ribcage. His feelings existed in mint condition, causing eruptions of unfamiliar sensations within his stomach and obscure notions from within his chest, however those seemed to be the sensations that he treasured the most.
Anya's stunning face materialized in the doorway after numerous acute knocks against her apartment. He shoved past her, halting within the corridor. Just as the door sealed Daniel lurched for her, their slick lips attaching in an intense whirl. They remained in the position for several sharp minutes; time expeditiously spent locking lips in countless fiery kisses, feeding the unceasing hunger for one another. He pressed hot pecks from her jaw to her neck as she gasped in a shrill intake of air.
"What has gotten into you?" she pondered, observing as he quickly withdrew his shirt.
"Nothing," was mumbled converge with her skin as he sucked the membrane of her collarbone.
Anya stifled an ill-favored moan. "Did something happen with you father?" Daniel's hostility hung vividly in the air, as growled low within his throat. Anger crept explicitly up his spine, ready to erupt any second. He had not kept his desire under bay to exchange meager words on his affairs with his father. She knew what he wanted.
"Hush. Your making this far more difficult than it needs to be."
His hand swept gently against the skin of her arm, feeling the velvety responsiveness tickle his fingertips. Both remained tangled restfully in the bed, the only surrounding material were wrinkled sheet, soothing the severe fatigue, which burdened the two.
"He said I can't see you anymore." Her hadn't snapped up animatedly like Daniel had hoped, instead she resided in her position, head reposing on the tort of his stomach. His chest heaved in pain.
"Your not upset?"
"I was aware it would come. Soon."
"And I'm getting engaged."
Their eye's connected for a brief moment, almost begging for time to discontinue. For the beautiful instant to have frozen and last an eternity. A soft gaze and the need for words almost to trivial to even exist. No matter how corrupt the world was to become beyond that door, the two were enveloped in the safety of one another. A place that had embraced them with indescribable sentiments and passions. Anya had shown Daniel how to take no notice of the unforgiving society that he had inauspiciously been born into. Forget the tangible complications of material people and become a Daniel that knew precisely who he was within.