AN: Hi everyone! It's been a while, but I'm back and kicking (meaning I'm still alive). I'm a bit rusty at this so I hope I don't disappoint anyone with this chapter. It's a lot shorter than my other chapters but I like it, and I hope you guys will too! If you all haven't been to my profile, I'll let you know that I plan to finish this story soon (hopefully) and I'm really quite excited to be updating new chapters again. Thank you guys for your support throughout this long period of no updates, I'm so grateful for everyone's kind words.
Please review and tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Naoko Takeuchi
Something was very fishy about the way her mom kept tapping her toes. Serena knew that whenever her mother was nervous about something she became very jittery. And right now, she'd classify the fleeting sideways glances and half-hearted smiles as being exceptionally jittery. Observing as her mother took another look at the clock on the opposite wall—the fifth time within the last minute—Serena decided it was the last straw.
"Mom," Serena asked uncertainly, "Is something wrong?" She sat up from her slumped position on the couch and curled forward toward the older woman.
Seated in the living room, the setting sun cast an orange light through the tattered black blinds across the window. The room was set afire by the warm twilight, and elongated shadows were painted against the wooden floors. Silence hung like the humid heat of a summer's day, restless they squirmed irritably in their seats.
Five minutes ago her mother had asked her to sit down. She had something she wanted to discuss with her, and so they had seated themselves in the living room. However, Ilene had not said a word, and instead kept shifting in her seat like a child who had just got caught telling a lie.
Her mother jumped at the sound of her voice. The vacant gaze that had occupied her face immediately disappeared as she turned towards her daughter. "Hold that thought for just a minute, sweetie," she replied edgily, glancing towards the door. "I have to wait for your father to get home first."
Serena's mind instantly jumped to the worst possible conclusions and terror struck her all ready fragile world.
"Oh no," Serena began to whine as she put piece and piece together—the strange tension, the anxious looks, the jumpy reactions—"Mom, did Dad get into trouble again?"
Ilene stared blankly at her daughter.
"The last time you told me you 'needed to talk to me' you got all panicky and tense just like right now, and it turned out you two enrolled me into Akita! Are we in financial trouble again? I told you and Daddy to stop investing money on those products you keep buying on TV in those commercials. They're scams! All they want is your money. I stressed this to you guys months ago! Daddy isn't gambling anymore, is he? Please tell me he did not—"
--"Serena, will you shut up? No, it isn't anything like that at all!" Her mother interrupted, yelling as loud as she could over Serena's shrill antics. Taking a deep breath, Ilene placed her hands on her knees and explained, "There is something your father and I have been waiting to tell you. It's very important, Serena, and we've been meaning to tell you this for years now, but we keep delaying it." Ilene paused uncertainly, and then sighing in defeat, she continued, "Now that you're getting married, your father and I must finally stop circumventing around the truth and tell you what we've been meaning to tell you."
"You're purposely trying to speak in riddles so I won't understand, aren't you?" Serena accused bemusedly at her mother's weird explanation. She slumped down against the back of the couch again, and stared questioningly at her mother. "What are you talking about? What is this thing that is so important that you and Daddy have been meaning to tell me but have been avoiding but now must tell me because I'm going to get married in a week?"
"That thing is something that I can't tell you until your father returns from work," Ilene replied curtly, frowning at her daughter's tone of voice.
Serena didn't press any further, but she did not have to wait long. The doorbell shortly rang after, and then her father walked in through the door. With the same happy-go-lucky bounce in his step, he smiled at them as he took off his coat and threw it over the back of a chair
along with his briefcase, before walking over to give Serena a pat on the head and his wife a kiss on the cheek. He seemed totally unperturbed by the thick tension in the room.
"What's for dinner?" He asked, sitting down beside Ilene on the couch as he loosened his tie. "I'm starving; I haven't eaten a thing all day."
Silence answered him. From one blank face to the other, he studied the two most important women in his life, and his lopsided smile faltered as the situation dawned on him.
"You two didn't have another argument, did you?" He queried nervously. When neither answered him, he took their silence as affirmation and turned a stern face towards his daughter and scolded, "Serena, I've told you time and time again that when your mother wants you to do something, you better do it for her!"
"Kenji, do you ever listen to me when I'm talking to you?" The irritation in Ilene's voice was not lost to Kenji as he turned to face his wife.
Angry lavender eyes glowered at him. He cringed.
"Why of course I do," he answered quickly.
"Then what did I say to you this morning?" Ilene demanded sharply, crossing her arms across her chest.
Kenji obliged his wife, restating calmly all the things he remembered her saying to him that very morning. "I remember you waking me up this morning," he began to list, "and then you told me that I smelled funny and needed to take a shower and brush my teeth. When I went into the kitchen to grab my coffee before leaving, you said something about wanting me to fix the sink, and that when I got home you would have dinner ready." He stopped and looked over at the kitchen table. "So where's dinner?"
That remark won him slap atop his head. Ilene looked furious at her husband. "Is there anything else you remember me saying to you today, Kenji, perhaps over the phone when I called you during your lunch break?"
Shrinking beneath his wife's blazing eyes, Kenji began to chuckle nervously. "Oh yeah," he nodded, "You said Serena wanted to talk to us about something."
"No, I said that we needed to tell Serena about you-know-what when you got off work today!" Ilene looked ready to throttle her husband. "Kenji, why in the world would you remember me telling you that you smelled funny this morning, and not remember us needing to talk to Serena today? I swear there's something wrong with you!"
Fiddling with the end of his tie, Kenji fidgeted under the onslaught of his wife's tirade. Wanting to laugh yet wanting to scream Serena made a sound caught between a groan and a growl. Either way it got her parent's attention.
"Will you two stop arguing? Just tell me what's wrong. I've been waiting here for fifteen minutes now," Serena commanded impatiently.
A worry had begun to consume her at her mother's earlier words, and now she just wanted to be appeased by hearing what they had to say. Her parents were never very serious, but when they were, they always had something big to tell her. The last time she had heard the "big talk" her parents were in debt up to their necks and had to move them to an apartment on the other side of town because they had decided to spend all their money on Akita's tuition fee so she could attend a good university. She hoped this time their news was not along the same gravity.
Ilene took her daughter's hands in hers. "Serena," she said, looking back at her husband for reassurance before continuing, "You're adopted."
Half an hour later.
"So you guys adopted me in New York?" The bemused expression on Serena's face as she asked this was beyond any other look of awe and confusion. It was absolutely mind-boggling to her that she was adopted after for so long believing that, well, she wasn't. All her memories; there was no orphanage she could recall of, no other parents she could imagine, and most certainly no other life she remembered she had led. It was insane to even suggest such a thing, but her parents, or rather her adopted parents, seemed to be very serious.
Serena felt as though her world was shattered. Again. How many more times now would she have to repair the damages of what was left of the fragments of her peace of mind? First, her parents forced on her the "big move"; she had decided then not to ever forgive them for forcing her to go to Akita University, but time had allowed her hostility to die down. Second, Darien came crashing into her life; with no warnings, no expectations, no plans, and now they were going to be married in about a week's time. (Not to mention all the hell she put up with at school, with Reizei, working two jobs, and simply finding time to hang out with all her new friends). And now this. She was adopted. The news struck her like a twenty pound bowling ball in the face.
Her mind just couldn't grasp it.
Watching the inner turmoil flash across Serena's face, Ilene grabbed hold of her husband's hand for support. She too felt that she was on an emotional ride; pain was the last thing she wanted to cause her daughter, and she was unsure how Serena would react. The matter had been a heavy burden plaguing her mind for some time; she just didn't have it in her to tell it to Serena, not wanting to shatter the all ready strained relationship they had. However, though all her decisions may not have been the most thought-out plans, her daughter's best interests were what were kept in mind through it all.
Ilene began to explain, starting her story from the very beginning, not wanting to leave anything out for Serena. And as she took in a wavering breath, she prepared herself for the journey back in time that she had never thought she would ever need to do.
"I met your father when I was nineteen. We were both in New York at the time; I was a foreign exchange student at NYU, and your father, as you know is American born, also went to college there. We fell in love immediately. Within a year we got married," and as though to look for understanding from her daughter, Ilene added, "You know the rest of the story. We eventually dropped out of school, my family disowned me, and then your father and I moved back to Japan to start a new life together. We had no one. But then you came along. Or at least that's what we told you."
Kenji squeezed his wife's hand reassuringly. "Serena," he said, his voice filled with remorse, "In New York we tried to start a family. It was difficult, I have to admit, going to college and then getting married and then realizing all the effort it took to make a marriage work; but I can't explain to you the devastation we felt when no matter how hard we tried, we simply could not have a child of our own. That truly forces a wedge in a marriage."
Nodding in agreement, Ilene added, "We both were frustrated at the circumstances that made everyday life a struggle, at the cruelty of the world for turning a blind eye to the strength of our love, and at ourselves for the pain that neither of us could heal in the other. Adoption was our only choice. Our one hope."
"It was almost eleven years ago, but I remember walking up the stone steps to the St. Rita's Children Home as though it was yesterday." Ilene's eyes glazed over as she pictured that
day. She remembered it was a cold morning, and how she had clutched her scarf around her neck as she walked up the stairs—stairs that seemed to never end. She recalled taking Kenji's hand in hers before pressing the ringer by the giant oak doors, and waiting patiently as the door was pulled open by a little blonde girl with big, shimmering blue eyes.
Yes, that was how they met. And it was in that first moment, in that one look that Ilene knew there was something special about that little girl. She was eight years old; small, fragile, and utterly alone in the world.
"Hi, nice to meet you," the little girl smiled with unfaltering charm, "I'm Serena".
It was those words, that short exchange of 'hello', in which corroborated Ilene's basic instincts that Serena was the one. She was the child that Ilene had been wanting, had been missing, and had been looking for all those years. Within the hour the papers were signed, Serena's possessions were packed, and in the car they went. An estranged family of two they had arrived, a hopeful family of three they had left.
"Whether you are our blood daughter or not, we don't feel any different towards you. From the moment I set my eyes on you, Serena, I loved you—just like how any mother would feel when first gazing upon their child."
Serena looked up from her lap hesitantly, as though too scared to do more in fear of another tremendous quake that may just send her spiraling towards doom. Her head was jumbled with too many thoughts, too many questions—she blurted out the one most bothering to her.
"How come I don't remember any of this? I don't remember an orphanage, a past before living here in Japan. It just doesn't make sense."
Ilene gulped, fighting back the tremors that ran through her body. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unsure of how to break the news to Serena. It was inevitable.
"The lady running the child home said you were brought into the home a week before the day your father and I had come. You were very strange, she said. You knew your name was Serena but could not recall your own mother's name; and when they asked you if you remembered where you lived, you would start to cry. They then concluded that you must have been extremely traumatized by something from your past, therefore your brain, the part controlling all your stored memory, shut down and crashed."
"And you still wanted me, even after you learned all that?" Serena asked shakily; the truth was very hard to hear.
Ilene and Kenji nodded simultaneously, "Of course."
"They said you appeared to be all right. You were healthy, you played with the other children, you talked a lot, and you loved to eat. The only abnormal thing about you was that you showed to have an extensive vocabulary that kids your age could not retain. And we found that quality endearing," Kenji explained, a soft smile touching his lips as he finished.
Serena sighed heavily. She was trying to take it all in, she was trying to accept all their answers, but none of it made sense to her. The more they revealed of her past, the more questions they, too, unlocked.
Their eyes bore into her. She could see their expectant expressions; feel their desperate plea for her to have faith, to understand and to accept; smell the thick scent of their anxiety; taste the bitter tension against her mouth, at the tip of her tongue; hear the hammering of all three hearts beating erratically in their safe cages inside them. Inside her head the pressure was building, building and building—until a sharp intense pain took its place at the back of her mind. Serena needed air.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, quickly jumping to her feet, "I can't do this right now; I'm going outside." Her parents began to protest, but she would not listen. "Don't worry about me, I'm only going to step out to get some air." She moved quickly, jerkily around the couch, stopping by the dining table to grab her cell phone before opening the door and slamming it shut with a loud hollow bang.
Outside, Serena stared out at the setting sun. The thin crisp air freezing her exposed skin. She let her mind relinquish itself to her darker thoughts, and down a spiraling plummet she went. Unconsciously, Serena clenched her fist, forgetting that she was holding her phone. Slowly she unclenched her fingers, revealing the shiny, sleek cell phone Darien had bought for her.
It was weird. Never had she owned a cell phone before in her life, and yet it was the first thing that came to her mind to grab when she left the house. She didn't even grab her jacket hanging on the coat rack right beside the door, but for some reason, Serena had remembered the cell phone.
Serena sighed heavily, struggling to choose just what she should do. Her finger caressed the metallic surface of her phone, itching the flip the screen and dial. But dial who? Automatically, she knew the answer.
Darien was getting out of the shower when his cell phone rang. With not much haste, he padded down the beads of water on his tan, broad chest and tied the towel around his lean, narrow waist. Carefully he dried his foot on the rug lain in front of the shower as he tread over the moist tiled floor to his bedroom.
His phone was on top of his dresser, and he didn't give it much a glance as it rang for the second time when he passed. Grabbing a robe lain out on his king-sized bed, he threw it over his shoulders and walked leisurely back towards the dresser to get some clothes. His phone rang again but he didn't give it a second glance; he was going to let the call go to the answering machine.
Opening his drawers he began to select some items of clothing, his mind off somewhere else while his body was still there, still dealing with the everyday physical world that he was trying to get away from. Quiet. His phone stopped ringing. With a quick shift of his eyes he registered the name of the missed call and went right back on doing his previous task of dressing himself. What a shitty day, he thought to himself, what a—
He froze in mid-thought, did a double take and cursed.
Serena had called him! He quickly grabbed his phone and called her back, trying to slip on a white T shirt over his head at the same time. He cursed vehemently at missing her call, but then calmed himself realizing he was acting like a besotted thirteen year old waiting for a call from his first crush. The call took forever to connect, Darien thought impatiently, and he was soon grounding his teeth with frustration by the time the second ring sounded and still Serena had not picked up her phone. Another second later, he heard the other line answer.
"Hello?" He immediately spoke.
No answer.
"Serena?" He said, this time more persistent.
"Darien?" A soft voice replied brokenly from the other line.
Instantly, Darien's shoulders tensed, and he became alert. "Serena? Is that you? What's wrong?" He couldn't hide the concern in his voice or the vulnerable tremor that reverberated in his throat.
"Darien," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but Darien could make out her pain. "I need you."
It was all she had to say.
The sun was nearly set by the time they pulled up to the beach house. The purple, pink sky was illuminated with a striking splash of orange in the far horizon out beyond the sea. As Serena opened the car door, the immediate smell of salt and sand attacked her senses. She could hear the rushing of the waves crashing onto the shore as they broke upon jagged rocks along the coastline. Water splashed into the air, she could feel it on her, the moist heavy wind blowing it right to her. It was extremely cold, but it didn't bother her much, it was tolerable.
Beside her she heard the heavy thunk of the car door closing, registered it, but didn't move. She sat in her seat, with door wide open and one foot planted firmly on the ground. And before her, she watched Darien's lean and tall figure become smaller and smaller as he walked out to where the water was barely creeping up towards the sand. He flexed his strong, powerful shoulders, raising his arms high in a stretch, and then she watched as he bent down and removed his shoes. First his right and then his left, and soon they were followed by his socks. In the light of the dawning moon, she saw him wade his foot into the water, kick up mud and then spun around to look at her.
"Come on!" He called, and Serena smiled remembering last time it had been she who had beckoned him to get into the water.
Getting out of the car, Serena walked slowly but steadily towards Darien. And it was in those few minutes that she thought about how much she loved the way his shadow looked cast upon the sand, how much she loved the way his hair shifted in the constant breeze, how much strength he held in his broad shoulders to carry all the burden of the world. But it was more than just that, she realized, and it was more than she could ever admit to herself. Coming up behind him, she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him to her, laying her cheek on his back.
"You're warm," she said, her voice muffled into his shirt, and he felt her rubbing her cheek idly against him.
A soft smile formed at his lips. Firmly he closed his arms over hers and let his fingers entwine with her soft, slender ones. He had never felt this way before in his life, so utterly contented and yet so dissatisfied because he yearned for more, could not have more. Turning his head slightly, he looked back at her and replied light-heartedly, "And who's the one with the jacket?"
Earlier, Darien had given her his jacket when he arrived to pick her up. She had been deeply touched by how he cared; like a true gentleman, he had insisted she wear it even though she denied how cold she was. That alone had brightened her disposition immensely. "Thank you," she whispered fervently, trying to express all she felt in those two little words: grateful, understood, and loved. "Thank you for everything."
"And all I did was give you my jacket," Darien teased, eyes sparkling with humor and something else she could not decipher, something warm and overwhelmingly intense. "If I'd known when I first met you that that'd be all it took to make you docile and thankful, I would've done it."
He laughed when she pinched him. Taking her hands in his he raised them to his lips and kissed her fingers; the touch of his firm and pliant lips against the sensitive skin of her fingers made her shiver with delight and excitement.
"Remember the last time we were here?" It wasn't really a question, he already knew the answer.
When he felt her nod her head against his back, he continued, "It was the day before my birthday."
"Was it?" Serena teased, suppressing a giggle.
"You know it was," Darien growled like a playful panther, and he took one of her hands and gently pulled her around to his front. "I was upset that day," he confessed.
Realizing this was the first time ever that he had opened up to her about his feelings, Serena felt awed and deeply gratified. She was so shaken by his transformation from cold and aloof into the gentle and thoughtful man he was now that she shook with the gravity of it. Serena tilted her head upwards to look him in the face, wondering what brought about this sudden change.
Darien knew it was Serena that had brought about this change in him. He had never, ever, not even with Malcolm, spoken about his feeling so honestly before. With Serena, however, it was hard not to; he had given a good fight at the beginning, but he was succumbing to her now.
"I was in sheer misery, and no matter what I did or who I talked to, I was simply going insane." Darien wrapped his arms around her and pressed her back against his chest, wanting to feel as close to her as he can. "But then I ran into you at the café, and for some reason, you just made me feel better. You made me laugh, Serena, and I had thought that I could never after all the hell I been through that day. Then I brought you here and we made that silly truce you insisted on, and the rest is all history. I haven't thank you for being there when I needed you."
Feeling deeply moved and humbled, Serena was rendered speechless and thoughtless. Had she ever felt so special before, so important? It was his simple "thank you" that was making her heart race right now, his simple "thank you" that was moving her towards tears because he made her feel significant. She squeezed his hand gently to let him know that she heard him, but she couldn't think of what to say. Too scared she might ruin the moment.
"That's why I brought us here again," Darien explained, whispering into her ear as he laid his head on her shoulder, "I don't know why you're upset, but I want you to know that you've got me. I'll do anything to make you feel better."
Serena turned around in his arms, her eyes misty, her hands shaking, and looked him straight in the eyes. Her voice shook with feeling. "You all ready have, Darien," she affirmed with a teary smile, "You've all ready made me feel better."
Darien stared down at her face, noting the tears threatening to fall, but also noticing the sparkle in her eyes, the merry twinkle in their gleam which was caught in the increasing moonlight. "Cry baby," he teased, taking her shaking hands in his and putting them on his chest.
Serena let out a tearful laugh, all the while thinking what in the world did she do to deserve such a good friend. Her face glowed with all the love she felt, hoping beyond hope he understood. But he couldn't though, of course. People can't read minds, and men simply don't understand women. She settled for the dazzling white grin that beamed across his face.
Do it. He told himself. Just kiss her. Kiss her. Do it.
For some reason it was harder for Darien to kiss her now than it was the other times before. He felt scared, vulnerable, as though kissing her was the biggest step he'd ever taken in his life. As though there was some greater commitment he was agreeing to, and he was sealing the deal with the kiss. He fought it, he fought the feelings hard, but in the end he lost. He couldn't help himself or the attraction he felt towards her. And very gently he placed his hand against her cheek, running his thumb slowly back in forth in a soothing manner across her soft, silky skin.
"Serena?" He breathed, his head sweeping down towards her painstakingly slow.
"Yeah," she replied back in the same breathless manner, feeling the excitement of the moment put her senses on overdrive.
"Can I kiss you?" He asked, though his lips were nearly touching hers.
She smiled against his lips, "My opinion never stopped you before," and as she said this, each word was punctuated by the caress of her lips against his.
He laughed as he smothered his lips against hers.
No longer did they feel cold anymore.
Serena felt a warm hand on her shoulder and she turned to see Darien holding a ceramic mug to her. She smiled her gratitude and took the proffered mug. The smile lingered as she felt the warmth of the cocoa seep through to her fingertips. Inhaling the sweet scent, she sighed contentedly before taking a sip.
In front of the fire, Darien plopped himself down across from her; he was entirely relaxed and he couldn't help but think about the future times when he'd be greeted by that beautiful smile on her face when he came home from work. Would she laugh with him as she did now? Would she ask how his day was, and if he'd answer that it had gone badly, would she offer to cheer him up? Would she act like a real wife?
He mentally shook his head to rid himself of such ridiculous thoughts. Did he dare ask her to give up her independence to be his solicitous slave, bound by marriage? Never. But still, he couldn't help but wish. It was silly really. They were bound by contract; that was all. Their marriage was nothing but a matter of convenience, and would be terminated after their agreed amount of time. Deep inside, however, he was thinking, maybe, just maybe he could convince her to stay with him. Maybe he could offer some other type of concession that would appeal to her.
Money? He could give her all the wealth, luxury and extravagance that she could ever possibly want—but he threw that thought out, knowing that material wealth meant nothing to Serena. He could give her social standing. Being married to him would make her one of the leading ladies in society—wealthy, educated, and beautiful, she could have the world at her feet—he didn't even consider that thought a second longer. Serena didn't care about what other people thought about her. Damn it, Darien cursed to himself, there was nothing he could possibly give her of value besides…besides…happiness. Unspoiled, unadulterated, total and blissful happiness!
It was hard to admit it to himself, but he was becoming attached to the little slip of a girl sitting across from him. His steady gaze set on a heated path from her near flawless, artless face to her regal shoulders down over her slender, pleasing form and finally to her small feet, creamy skin glowing in the fire light. He was racking his brain for ways he could possibly persuade her to stay with him, to persuade her that they could make their marriage work. He wanted it so much to work.
"Darien?" Her voice was a ragged breath. The tearful sorrow expressed in her glazed eyes penetrated him to the very soul, and Darien lurched with something he could only identify as anger, anger at whoever had caused her so much pain. He was seething with rage, just as he was earlier when he found her looking so shattered and heartbroken standing in front of her
apartment complex, and he was feeling helpless and inadequate not knowing what was troubling her so.
And then she did something that entirely shocked him. His eyes widened as he felt her hand tentatively reach out for his; he could feel her warm fingertips slipping in between his and grasping his hand firmly. The poignancy of that moment, the contact of her skin against his, sent shockwaves of pleasure tingling down his spine, and he fought the urge to pull her to him and crush his lips to hers, vowing to make her forget her pain with the joy of his mouth and body. Instead, he just watched fixedly as she brought his hands to her and brushed her lips softly along his knuckles.
Her eyes shifted from their entwined hands to his intensely darkened eyes, and as blue clashed onto blue, sparks flew like lightning in a storm. A long moment passed and neither spoke.
"You don't know how much it means to me that you're here with me right now," she finally said, regaining a semblance of control over her voice.
"It's nothing," he replied, and he smiled his dashing smile that long ago she would have thought was a cocky grin.
She shook her head, her wet golden tresses loosely shifting over her shoulders. "You don't understand," her ambiguous comment brought a frown to his face.
"Why don't you try me," he challenged lightly, not wanting to be intrusive, but he was concerned, and feeling helpless because he could not ease her pain.
"I'm adopted."
The expression on his face was unreadable. Serena was impressed by the total control he had over his emotions, but she was dying trying to figure out what he was thinking. The orange flickering light cast half his face in darkness, making him look quiet menacing. She set her cocoa above them on the mantle over the fireplace.
"Darien, say something," Serena commanded quietly after a while. He still stared at her with that strangely intense gaze. When he didn't reply she felt her heart plummet and she assumed the worst. "Is my being adopted going to be a problem? I mean, I'll understand if you don't want to marry me anymore, all you have to do is call it off. I know I'm supposed to be helping your image in the media, but now that you know…"
"How long did you know this?"
Serena's stomach clenched at his tone of voice; the harsh coldness of his words slashed her like a sharp blade. Tears threatened to fall, but she told herself she wouldn't let him see her cry.
"Today," she answered, her voice cracking, "Right before I called you, actually. I didn't know what to do, Darien. I was so shocked, so very devastated—the only thing that came to my mind was you. I'm so sorry if I've hurt you but—"
In a blink of an eye Darien had Serena wrapped fiercely in his arms, it was as though he was never going to let go, refusing to let go.
"Stupid girl," he said in a harsh whisper, "I'm marrying you and that's final."
Serena was so touched by his words, that all she could do was cling helplessly him as she cried unspoken fears. Astonishingly, she felt tremors rushing throughout his body, and she wondered if he too somehow was feeling her pain. She was just about to ask him why he was shaking so much, when his next words stunned her speechless.
"Do you think that by lying to me about being adopted you could change my mind?"
And that's when she understood. He wasn't shaking because he was scared for her—no, he was shaking like a worried child, because he feared he was going to lose her. Darien Shields was in fact vulnerable, and he was scared she wasn't going to marry him! That thought was so endearing, so deliciously tempting that Serena burst out into hysterical laughter.
He had thought she was lying to him! If that was all he was scared about, he had a bigger thing coming when his parents would find out the truth for themselves. No doubt they would freak when they learned their son was marrying a girl who was abandoned as a child and then adopted.
Confused, and utterly, lost in the change of mood from the earlier hour, Darien let his arms fall away from her so he could see her laughing, struggling to keep herself up as her shoulder racked violently with mirth.
"What's so funny?" He demanded, grasping her face in his hands so he could steady her merrily sparkling eyes to his.
"You are," she said in between uninhibited guffaws.
"Me?"
Serena nodded. "I was not trying to get out of our marriage, silly," she giggled, her eyes dancing brightly as she gazed into his dark ones.
"You weren't?" He looked forlorn.
"I was telling you the truth! I really am adopted," and with that she broke away from his grasp and steadied herself with one hand against the wall as she collapsed in fits of smothered chortles.
Darien was shocked. And for the first time ever, Serena saw a telltale blush creep across his face as he watched her writhing form. He was embarrassed and, for once, he wasn't able to hide it.
"What were you thinking?" She demanded an explanation when she was finally able to stop her laughter.
He shrugged sheepishly, not able to make eye contact with her. "I don't know," he answered honestly, "I just sort of jumped to conclusions. The wedding is in a week and I thought you were getting cold feet."
"Oh wow," she breathed with a smug smile on her lips, "I tell you the most devastating news I've gotten, the most painful thing that's been eating at me this whole time and you—you thought I was trying to use it to get out of marrying you!"
He remained stonily quiet.
"Why you arrogant, egocentric, cocky—"
He silenced her with a swift caress of his lips against hers. When they parted she was staring dazedly at him.
"Why do you always do that?" She ordered snapping out of her trance.
Darien smiled and leaned towards her, kissing her once more, only this time it was longer, and much more satisfying. "Because I like to," he answered self-assuredly, "And you like it too."
"That's not what I mean," she explained, "You always kiss me whenever I'm talking, as though whatever I have to say is not important."
"It wasn't important," Darien affirmed, this time it was his turn to smile as she glowered at him.
"I was—"
"You called me egocentric, arrogant and cocky—which by the way all mean the same thing, mind you—and I was simply cutting to the chase, getting to the part where we both wanted."
"Listen to you," Serena ranted, "You're so full of yourself."
"I call it confidence," He countered, eyes gleaming mischievously.
"And what do you call your little act earlier?" She raised an inquisitive brow, as she placed her hands upon her hips in a challenge.
Serena watched as he bowed his head contemplatively, and then was stunned by the sheer force of his eyes as he raised them to look at her. "If you're talking about my foolish outburst, I call it a crude attempt at trying to hide my fear of you breaking our engagement. I call it a desperate act of vulnerability," the humble softness of his voice pierced her like nothing she had ever experienced before, leaving her feeling all strange inside like putty.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Darien asked, gently reaching out with his hands to brush back a loose strand of hair that had fallen into her face.
"Why am I looking at you like what?" She sniffled, feeling happy tears brim along her eyelashes.
"Like I'm holding something funny in my hands, I don't know," he suggested flippantly.
She laughed; her heart swelling with joy that he was going to be hers. It didn't matter that he could never love her like a real husband would love his wife. She was content with that; she was willing to settle for less, so long as she had him. Unconsciously she moved towards him, and just before she touched her lips to his, she uttered softly, "You're holding my heart," and then she was kissing him and he was kissing her.
Darien was momentarily stunned by her aggression. He was a passive, but oh so very willing, participant as he felt her open her mouth over his and gently suckle his bottom lip between hers. The sensation was driving him wild, and he thought he was going to die of bliss when he suddenly felt her soft, warm tongue tentatively sneak through her parted lips to trace between his, urging him to open for her. He groaned most agonizingly. Her words lost to him.
He slid his hands across her cheek into her silky tresses as she worked her delicious tongue into his mouth, seeking his. When they met in the moist warmth and entwined and mingled playfully, he decided he could take no more of her teasing and clenched his hands into tight fists in her hair and pulled her closer to him.
Serena's arms immediately sought his chest and slid up towards his neck to grasp the hair at his nape. She was giving all that she had into that kiss, trying to show him all the joy she felt, all the love she felt but could not say. She could feel the newly lit inferno raging through him, could feel the hunger that transformed the kiss. He was slanting his mouth over hers in the most provocative way, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in the old-as-time mating rhythm. Hard, fast, unrelenting. She shuddered from the feelings he was awakening in her, scared yet excited for what lay ahead.
They remained like that; necking and petting like hormonal teens, until their lungs burned for air and their lips were swollen and bruised by their ardent kisses.
One, two, three minutes passed before Darien could trust himself to look at her without thinking about undressing her, and taking her right there in front of the fireplace. His body shook violently by the exertion of his control to stay away from her, and he was amazed that she could do this to him. Make him want her so completely by only a mere kiss, by only a mere whimper, by only a mere sigh. She was driving him mad with lust, and he had never thought about sex so frequently before in his life. Now he thought about it every time she was near.
She had the grace to blush when he finally turned his attention to her. He bit back his chuckle of amusement at her innocent face; she was acting as though she were the seduced rather than the seducer. "What did you say?" He asked.
"I didn't say anything," she replied blankly.
"No," he persisted, "What did you say before you kissed me."
"Oh, that," Serena smiled innocently, "I forgot."
But she had not forgotten. She had said he held her heart—and he did. He simply need not know.
Content with her answer, Darien got up and collected their mugs they had left on the mantle and brought them to the kitchen.
End Note: I'm going crazy wondering: what do you think? Thanks for taking the time to read, I appreciate your time and know that it's certainly valuable! Please review if you can.