As of Yet Untitled
By: Karisma
Chapter Seven
Rated: PG-13
Genre: Alt, Romance
Parini@hotmail.com

Two days later found me still reeling from the rather large bite of
news I had yet to digest completely. Darien was married. No wonder he had
all the pessimistic views on love, or rather, lack thereof. This Melissa
woman had done something to harden Darien like this. I was inexplicably glad
that Darien hadn’t just been born with such a cynical outlook on life, it
was much better knowing that there was a reason, no matter how painful, for
his attitude.
The man I had known since I was old enough to crawl into his yard had
exchanged vows with a woman and I hadn’t heard the slightest bit of it from
anyone. My parents had failed to mention it, Darien obviously hadn’t told
me, and I apparently hadn’t exactly been invited to the wedding.
So why was I led to be ignorant of the small detail? Unless, maybe our
parents didn’t even know about Darien’s marriage! But that notion was beyond
ridiculous.how exactly would you hide a wife from your own parents?
All my other conclusions led me nowhere except to the undeniable
realization that I was completely stumped. And another nagging feeling in
the pit of my stomach was screaming at me to get to the bottom of all this
before it ate me alive.
I wandered around my house, pacing the length of my large room, trying
to figure out what would shed any light in the dark corner I was in. All I
knew was I wanted to find out why nobody had informed me and see pictures of
this Melissa woman.
Pictures!
I shoved my feet in a pair of flip-flops and raced out the door to
where the Sandborns’, minus Darien and Andrew, house was. I knew Andrew was
on his honeymoon in Europe and Darien was working (I would be starting the
next day). Mrs. Sandborn must have been out shopping, and her husband was at
his own office. That left the entire house empty and ready for my exploring.
I felt a twinge of guilt as I dug out the spare key out of the flower
pot near the door. I quickly pushed it out of my mind, this house was like a
second home for me, I knew it inside and out. I wasn’t breaking in, I was
always a welcome guest. Satisfied with my justifications I headed straight
for the library, the cool house forming goosebumps on my bare legs. I tugged
my white shorts nervously and immediately walked over to where I knew they
kept their photo albums.
After a few minutes of rapid searching, I had flipped through countless
thick books filled with happy pictures of the Sandborns’ wedding, my
parents’. I finally slowed down once I hit the pictures of the summers
Andrew, Darien, and I had. Some of the pictures also included birthdays,
holidays, and events our families had spent together.
I reluctantly smiled at one particular picture that had been taken on my
sixth birthday. Darien had been walking toward me, present outstretched in
his hands, wide smile in place. Right when he had passed me, he pushed me
directly into my birthday cake. The picture captured me with my face covered
in white icing, my features were twisted in a wail. Darien and Andrew were
on the other side of the photo, Andrew was doubling over in laughter while
his brother was covering his mouth with one hand and pointing at me with the
other.
I rolled my eyes and placed the thick book back in its place. With
dismay, I realized that there were no more albums. There weren’t any
pictures here. Well, at least not the ones I was looking for. Sighing, I
picked up a previous one and began a journey to the past.
I don’t know how much time I spent poring over the old photos, but it
seemed like seconds.
I laughed outright at a picture I didn’t even know existed. It was of
just us three kids. We had all made ridiculous faces, tongues out, eyes
crossed, not to mention the fact both brothers had given my bunny-ears. I
traced Darien’s young face with a slim finger, wondering how he would look
if he really, truly laughed, a laugh that broke past all the bonds of hurt
and cynicism that lurked behind his beautiful eyes.
"What do you think you’re doing?" As if my imagination had conjured up
the image of him, I spun around to see Darien standing behind me, frown
marring his features.
I snapped the book shut and hastily shoved it back in the shelf next to
me. When I turned to face him, I stumbled over my words nervously.
"I,uh,I was looking at some old pictures, you know, trip down memory lane?" I
laughed and winced at how much I resembled a yowling cat.
One dark eyebrow was raised calmly in doubt.I’m pretty sure you have
the exact same pictures at your house."
He had me on that one. "Well," I cleared my throat and crossed my arms
over my short-sleeved shirt, hoping to gain the confidence I so easily lost
when I was around this man. "You’re probably right. Then I’ll just go over
and look at the pictures at home!" With a cheery smile and practically ran
out of the room, berating myself for the brilliant reply I had given. Just
when I had thought I was safe and home free, Darien’s voice called me back.
"Serena?" He called back from the library.
I bit my lip and slowly trudged back into the room, feeling the
nerve-wracking sensation of impeding doom take over my body. When I finally
was forced to look over at Darien, my mind berated me on my being so
nervous. But as he casually walked closer to me, his steps sure and long, my
insides, mainly my disobedient heart, told me quite different.
"Serena," he began, hands shoved in the pockets of his fitted slacks.
He was standing a respectable distance from me, but his propinquity
was unsettling and delicious all at the same time.
Stop it! I commanded, focusing on what he was saying.
"While Rita and Andrew are away on their honeymoon, my mother decided
it would be a great time to get the photo album of their wedding ready. It
would be a surprise for them when they get back."
I nodded, unsure of where this was going. It sounded like something
Megan Sandborn would think of and it wouldn’t surprise me if she wanted my
help at some point, but where did Darien come in?
"Well," he continued, making such direct eye contact, I squirmed for a
moment. "My mother apparently thought it would be nice to give me the job,
but I have no experience in the area, no big surprise, and I was wondering if
you could do it."
Ah-ha.
I crossed my arms over my chest, cocking my head to one side, all
jitters gone. With a smirk, I cleared my throat.
"So in other words, you’re getting rid of the job by dumping it on me."
Darien opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it. With a
sheepish grin, one that was completely foreign to me, he shrugged. "Pretty
much."
I poked his firm chest, feeling the warmth radiating out of the button
down shirt. "Well, forget it. I’m not going to work my butt off and make an
album,a gorgeous album, considering it’s me making it, just so you can take
credit for it and have Rita exclaim how wonderful you are and what a great
job you did!"
Darien smiled and sighed his consent. "Alright, then how about you help
me, and I’ll give you due credit?"
I pretended to ponder over it for a minute. "Better." I said slowly.
"Just tell me how to get started." His voice was commanding and stern,
as if he was talking to someone at work. I cocked one brow at his tone of
voice and he sighed again, obviously realizing his mistake. "Please?" The
word was foreign to his lips, anyone could tell. No, Darien Sandborn had
never needed to ask nicely for something and his money had nothing to do
with it. It was the presence of power that exuded from his very being.
I nodded, smiling at the familiarity of our light bantering. This was
what I had grown up with, more or less. "Sure."
He also nodded, all traces of laughter were gone from his face as he
grew serious, gazing at me. I returned the stare for some time, heat
flushing throughout my body, before shaking my head and looking away.
"When do you want to start?" I asked, twisting my head as if to glance
around the room casually.
He bent his head to quickly check his expensive watch. "How about now?"
My head snapped back to see his face. Now? "I..uh-" I stuttered a bit,
thrown by his request. "Yeah," I finally got out. "Why not?"
He gave a short nod and began to walk out of the room.
"We’ll go find a nice album, then we can look through the pictures at my apartment."
I had begun to follow his track out of the house when I suddenly
stopped. His apartment? What had I gotten myself into? Now that I had
thought about it, helping Darien with this album would mean even more time
spent with Darien. Alone.
By this time, Darien had reached his car and was staring at me with a
mixture of curiosity and impatience. I snapped out of my daze and swallowed
hard. I quickened my pace and got in the car with one fluid motion. As we
headed toward a nearby mall, I made sure my gaze was focused on something
ahead and not the someone to the left of me.
About one hour, two stores, and three sales clerks later, we finally
had picked out a large photo album, we both agreed upon. The male and female
tastes were both suited by the dark brown, leather cover with gold,
intricate patterns on the spine.
I had had a wonderful time shopping with Darien and all my worries
about being in his apartment had vanished until he parked in his reserved
spot. My laughter stilled from the humorous joke he had made about one
particularly annoyed sales girl as I was expected to get out of the vehicle.
I did so silently, anxiety, which I was certain did not belong, rising up
from my stomach to my throat. We rode the elevator up in silence and finally
reached our destination. As soon as I took my first step out of the lift and
entered the decorated hallway, I knew I had entered his home. It was a
feeling that made me feel ridiculously close to him.
I followed Darien’s swift steps, taking in the stone fireplace,
nineteenth-century furniture, and the beauty of the incredibly decorated
penthouse. We passed living room, heading straight to the elegant dining
room, which joined with a sizable breakfast room. The large dining table was
immaculate, cloth perfectly in order, along with the candle centerpieces,
with the exception of a thick pile of white envelopes, flaps slightly open.
I walked over to the stack, it being the only reason I was here in the
first place. I focused entirely on the flipping through the photographs, or
rather, I pretended to. I was more preoccupied with Darien’s dark figure
behind me than the smiling shots of guests. I finally managed to actually
start organizing the photos in separate piles after I assumed Darien had
gone off into a study or some other section of his huge home.
"Hard at work I see," his husky voice came closely behind me and for the
second time that day I practically jumped out of my skin.
I twisted my upper back in the chair to look up at him. I hadn’t
realized how tall he was, now he was all but towering over me, me sitting
and him standing.
"You have to stop scaring me like that," I scolded when I finally
stopped gaping at him. I went back to the task at hand, part of me hoping he
would leave to work or whatnot, and the other, much larger, part of me
hoping he would sit and join me.
The larger part won.
Darien pulled back a chair next to me and sighing, took an envelope and
began piling where I told him to do so. I think it took some time for him to
adjust to me giving him orders. I figured might as well take the opportunity
now, seeing as how I would be taking orders from him starting tomorrow.
We worked in silence for about thirty minutes, which was fine with me
considering every time I snuck a look at him all that entered my mind was
the fact that he was married. The fact that he had exchanged vows with
someone special and dear to him, someone he may have very well been in love
with. The last thought watered an uncalled for seed of jealousy within me.
I had no claims on this man, none whatsoever, and here I was angry toward
him for loving someone that wasn’t me. Proposing to someone that wasn’t me.
Marrying someone that wasn’t me. And it was all preposterous. Imagine. Me
being jealous over a guy who peed in my flower-bed as a child.
But it wasn’t just that. It was that he kissed me in that car. The way
he had kissed me. Like there was no one else. But of course, there was. And
before his wife, maybe even after, there had been plenty of women. And I had
my share of boyfriends, nothing to his long line of broken hearts, but still.
He had kissed me when he was a married man! The thought should have sent
disgusting shudders down my spine, instead, it sent shivers of pleasure at
the memory of how sweet and urgent his lips had been on mine. And it wasn’t
so bad, didn’t Andrew say they were divorcing?
No! How could I even reason like that?
Besides, I was disgusted. The creep had lied to me. He had told me he
had a desire to kiss me for the past eight years. How could he blatantly
lied to me about something of that caliber when he had been married? I
wasn’t about to believe that he had been secretly dreaming about kissing me
when he had shared a bed with, with Melissa. Now that thought repulsed me.
"Serena?" His deep voice brought me out of reverie and I shook my head
over toward him.
My anger deepened at the sight of his crinkled brow, his ice-colored
eyes, his all-together too gorgeous face. "What?" I snapped.
His reaction was not one of anger, surprise, or hurt. It was amused
disapproval. He cocked one dark brow sardonically and evenly gazed at me,
his face cool.
"Sorry," I mumbled, looking at my hands which were currently in the
action of shuffling through glossy pictures of Rita and Andrew feeding each
other cake. "What did you want?" I asked again, this time much more
pleasantly.
The expression of quiet sarcasm hadn’t left his face as he peered over
at me and finally spoke. "I was wondering if you’d like to move over to the
living room, it’s more comfortable than hard chairs." He paused while he
granted me a long gaze. "That is, if you’re quite alright now."
I ignored his remark and gingerly picked up two stacks of pictures and
allowed him to make the way to his sitting room. When we arrived after the
short walk and I set down the shots on the coffee table, I looked around the
tasteful room in appreciation. It was decorated in royal blue and gold. The
colors achieved an elegant, yet warm atmosphere with the ceramic lamps,
strategically placed paintings, and large windows.
"You like it?" Darien’s surprisingly soft voice asked me from the dark
L-shaped sofa. He had obviously caught me staring in wonder.
I nodded my approval and sat down what I thought was a respectable
distance from him. I immediately began sorting through one pile, picking the
ones that would be best to go in the album. It only took me a second to
realize I was being watched. I turned my head to meet his once again caustic
gaze and found myself narrowing my eyes.
"Yes?" I asked pointedly, tightening my ponytail absently.
"I don’t bite, you know," he said, mirth and something indefinable in
his eyes.
I blushed deeply, and stared the distance between us. What had seemed
like a casual space a second ago, now was practically a yard away.
"I know," I mumbled lamely and scooted a bit over, still a good foot
away from him. I heard Darien sigh and then continue with his work.
A moment later, his voice interrupted the quiet. "Hey, Serena. Do you
know who these people are?"
Instinctively, I leaned over closer until my bare leg touched his clad
one, I rubbed my sore neck and focused on the picture. My eyes widened when
I realized it was Darien and myself dancing quite intimately at the wedding.
How could he not know?
I tipped my head upwards slightly, about to make a joke about his
blindness, when it suddenly hit me how close he really was. So close I could
make out the individual flecks of silver in his cerulean eyes. They
certainly were hypnotizing.
"So who is it?" He whispered, his voice raspy, and somewhere in the
back of my mind I noticed he was coming closer to me.
"Us," I said softly, unable to break eye contact.
"I like the sound of that," he grinned ever so slightly. "Us."
I finally regained some of the sense I had fleetingly lost.
"Or lack there of," I shot back crisply.
His smile never wavered. "Ouch," he said good-naturedly.
And then, in one sweeping motion, so quickly I never knew what hit me, his
mouth was on mine, pressing and sweet. Some disobedient part of me responded
immediately, wrapping my arms around his neck, brushing his thick hair. I
shifted toward him slightly when I heard the low growl emitted from within
his throat, and he wrapped his arms around my waist and somewhere along the
line we must have fallen back against the plushness of the sofa because the
next thing I remembered, my back was pressed against the corner of the 'L'
the couch made. My hair had spilled out of its ponytail with the help of
Darien’s prodding fingers and I suddenly viewed the scene from a spectator’s
point of view.
A married man and his childhood friend were wrapped in a tangle of
limbs, pressed together as if there was no tomorrow.
That got me moving. I pushed Darien away and sat up, catching my breath
as well as my equilibrium. When I had composed myself as much as I could and
gathered up my blonde hair in a loose bun with my black scrunchie, I forced
myself to look at him, and not melt. His hair and clothes were rumpled as
well, his breathing labored and he looked at me with something that was now
quite evident.
Desire.
Darien desired me. Me.
And suddenly I knew I had to get out of there. I jumped up,
straightened my clothes, movements he watched with interest, and took a deep
breath.
"I should go,I need to go!I mean," I was making absolutely no sense. "I
mean, well, bye." I all but sprinted out of the sitting room, and made my way
through the hallway to the elevator. I had just pushed the button and was
congratulating myself on a well-done job when a hand shot through the crack
between the two doors. My reflex was to jump, but I immediately knew who it
was. There was only one person it could be.
Darien stepped in the elevator with me, his appearance calm and in
order, which the exception of his hair, which looked as if he had run his
hand through it multiple times.
We stood in silence for what seemed like eternity before Darien’s gruff
voice came through the harsh pounding of my heart. "It was just a kiss,
Serena."
Just a kiss. Maybe for him. I had never been kissed like that in my
entire life, and here he was writing it off as an everyday occurrence. Which
it very well was for him. Anger rose up within me once again at the thought
of him with all those women. The emotion was quickly replaced with sadness
at the thought I had no say over what he did with whom, therefore I had no
right feel the way I did. And how did I feel?
Lousy.
Trapped.
Anxious.
I should have stayed in England.

****

The ride back to my house was in complete and utter silence, and it
all but tore me to pieces. Darien finally parked into my driveway and I
pounced on the door, ready to spring out as soon as I could.
Darien’s voice stopped me. "Serena."
I slowly turned and waited impatiently.
"What time should I pick you up tomorrow?"
My head spun. What could he possibly mean? Tomorrow I was going to
work.
"I was planning to drive myself tomorrow."
I saw a frown mar his features. "It would be a lot easier if I gave you
a ride, that way we leave together to go to my apartment and work on the
album."
I stared at him, not caring that my mouth was probably wide open. Did
he honestly think I would go back to his apartment with him? Alone? After
what had happened just now?
I cleared my throat and found my voice. "Actually, I wanted to check
out some apartments after work." I smiled what I hoped was a carefree grin.
"Can’t stay at mommy and daddy’s forever!"
His frown hadn’t left his face and I had a sinking sensation he didn’t
like being contradicted. Well, too bad. There was no way the big, bad wolf
was luring me back into his cave. He finally sighed after a moment and
unlocked his door, standing up to his full height, obviously waiting to walk
me to the door.
What a gentleman.
I followed suit and practically skipped to the steps. I had won! I had
finally won a match with the obstinate Darien Sandborn! Glee filled my heart
with some sick, childish pleasure. I turned to him after I had pulled out my
key, prepared to say goodnight and that I would see him tomorrow at the
office.
As soon as I had shifted to face him, he reached out to stroke my lower
lip with his thumb. The movement was sensual and mind-numbing. All coherent
thoughts I had been planning flew out of my head as I met his smoldering
gaze. Then, the minute I thought I knew for sure he would kiss me, a soft
smile reached his curved lips.
"I’ll pick you up at seven."
And with that, he was off, with nothing but the distant rumble of his
car as proof he was there at all.
And his words! Seven! The nerve of that man!
With a severed kick to the door and a moan of pain, I flung open the
door and stomped upstairs, setting my alarm for the early day.
A gentleman. What a joke.