A/N: Special thanks to Amelia for constantly reviewing!

Cal couldn't understand what Clarissa was taking so long. He wouldn't admit it, but he was beginning to miss her. In the middle of June with the weather getting brighter and most people making arrangements for the holidays to come, it was all the more so boring to be forced being alone.

Not that Cal would be completely unaccompanied. Sure enough there were other women around, there always had been, but they simply lacked her charisma and her ability to make Cal feel better – even after a long day of work, she found the right words to cheer him up.

Cal sighed pouring himself another glass of brandy, slowly feeling the liquid cascading down his throat.

He could remember how he had have a drink with his father. Nathan had immensely enjoyed these, but just like Cal did. Indeed Cal had turned out very much similar to his father. Nathan and Sybille – Cal's mother – had never loved each other, but still had over the years developed a certain understanding for one another and when it came to business and family matters, there couldn't have been any better team.

Though both Nathan and Sybille would've both wanted more, Cal had remained their only child and they had both worshipped him to death, still not forgetting however, to give him a proper upbringing and education.

Already in infancy Cal had been treated like a crown prince, but knew what expected of him. So instead of going out playing with other boys as it would've been normal, he stayed at home and learnt mathematics and practiced French vocabulary.

At around twelve, when children of his age and sex would be reading all sort of adventure literature, Cal had started to analyse the economy sites of the New York Times. Nathan was extremely proud of his son and would state so, whenever he felt it necessary.

Not very surprisingly Cal himself soon felt that he was something better, superior to others.

Cal sipped another glass of brandy, feeling a little bit tired.

He refused to face the facts, but his childhood had been extremely lonely. Sure enough his parents had provided everything for him, led out a fortune before his eyes. Whatever he wanted he had gotten. He had been the Hockley-heir, treated like a General in the army by his father and had been the apple of her eye to his mother.

He could remember large parties being thrown; important people he had met – being counted upwards from the governor of Pennsylvania.

Conceitedly Nathan had presented his son to William Alexis Stone.

At twenty Cal had known more people than most would their whole life. He had visited the best schools and universities in America and in England.

You name a person, be it a manager, governor, aristocrat, Cal had met him.

His circle included about two to three hundred persons and they would jump up, whenever he was giving them a call.

'Master Cal, I would be glad to help.'

'Mr Hockley, I'm sorry it can't be done…'

Cal had slammed his fist then and of course it could be done.

Despite all this seemingly wonderful upbringing, there was one thing he lacked, but it was something that both Nathan and Sybille didn't recognize as truly important and therefore they didn't deem it necessary.

When he would be asked, he wouldn't be able to name one single friend.

"Ah, well…," Cal mumbled looking at the half-full glass in his hands shaking it somewhat.

Who cared about this anyway?

Nathan's axiom had been a version of the Emperor Caligula's Oderint dum metuant(1) – and this behaviour he had firmly installed in his son as well.

Cal turned another glance at the clock, dreamily starting to think about a problem having occured in the company.

'I would be able to give to a ten per cent discount, Mr Hockley.'

'Do you think my money is growing on trees? I want twenty.'

His father had always admired his negotiating skills and told him that he was even better than he himself.

'You're going to be a good manager, Cal.'

A quick smile crossed his face as his head shot up suddenly the clock strucking yet again.

Past seven…

Clarissa hadn't even phoned him once. Normally she would at least call and inform him, if everything was alright.

Surely she'll turn up sooner or later and present me with a list of bills.

He laughed half-heartedly, not wanting to acknowledge how isolated indeed was and therefore came up with all kind of things of why it was better that she wasn't here.

Clarissa had this damn habit, every woman seem to have – the one of not being able to go by a shop without purchasing anything. A dreadful convention, especially as it was his money being spent. Clarissa was taking advantage of him; it was a simple as that.

His mother had been much the same, much to the chagrin of his father.

'I can't earn as much money in a year as you're spending in a day,' he had kept saying referring to her as his little Josephine, but with a hint of smile.

Like many women of her class his mother had engaged herself in all sorts of charities and had therefore been a much respected figure in society. It was through one of these aid organizations that she had first met Ruth Dewitt Bukater though at this time not coming very close to her.

Rose had been fifteen then and her father was still alive, so there was no need to be overly concerned for the dark clouds looming above the Dewitt Bukater family had been unknown still to Ruth and much more to her young daughter. Regardless of what he claimed later on Cal had met with Rose the first time around then. However nothing more had started out as Cal wasn't really interested in her at first.

His girlfriends at this time surely were providing better for him than a fifteen-year-old virgin could've done anyway. Still he understood that he couldn't marry any of them as they were not of decent upbringing.

Cal strayed around and his father let him have his way, though making sure that none of his son's old flames would once unexpectedly turn up with a Hockley heir. As they were provided with a whole lot of cash, eventually they all accepted that they were just interstices and - happy or not - they still faded into the background.

All except for Clarissa as Cal refused to let her go.

Nathan had begun to grow slightly nervous as Cal first brought up his silly request of wanting Clarissa to be more than his mistress. Nathan had been charging him with disownment, if he wouldn't give up his plans, but both had known that it was a lame threat.

There simply were no other heirs to the Hockley fortune.

Nathan had been about to send his son on a mission to Europe anticipating that the distance would cut the bond between them, when yet another, much more flourishing opportunity had shown up.

Edmund Dewitt Bukater had died.

Rose had just become sixteen, when she accidently met again with Cal at a student's ball although it wasn't much of a surprise to anyone else, but to herself. Nathan, Ruth and Sybille had swiftly agreed with each other as this was seen as the perfect way out for everyone.

Rose was being sold on a silver tablet to a sexually worn-out man, who had slept with more women than she counted in years and who certainly wasn't to be impressed by some bland little girl. Actually no one knew what Rose really thought of Cal as she had been told to keep her inner feelings to herself. Not that anyone would've been interested anyway, but this was another matter.

Rose had found Cal maybe a little bit over the top.

Still she had started to fall in love with him and even more importantly Cal had made it seem as if he cared about her the same way.

'You're very kind, Mr Hockley.'

Rose had been proud that someone as prominent as Caledon Hockley would choose her out of all the debutants available. She had felt honoured and very special not realizing anything of what was going on behind her backs.

Though Ruth had at first demanded that Cal that get rid of his mistress, before the engagement be announced she had as much understood that she was not in the position to make ultimatums and had let the arrangement of ahead.

In the end Rose had been the only one to be left ignorant.

Cal had known how to behave and had courted Rose like the perfect gentleman, his father telling him more than once, where his duty now lay. Cal had understood and bowed his head to Nathan's wishes. His father had made it clear to him however that as long as he fathered an heir with Rose, he may be keeping whatever other woman he wanted.

Cal had been fine with this arrangement looking forward to the day of his marriage. Rose's father had never taken much trouble to hide his unfaithfulness, greatly to Ruth's sorrow and he considered on doing it the same way.

Rose would get to marry into the most prominent family of Pittsburgh – what more did she want?

Love was not one the things that came firstly, when thinking of marriage.

However, once again, fate had interrupted their plans. Cal had proposed to Rose in May 1911 already – two month after her father's death only - eager to please his father and the wedding should've been in October that same year. But it had to be defered, for Cal's mother was lying on the deathbed in August.

Cal had been furious though of course not telling anyone, but he couldn't wait to be able to get his hands on this unused young, fresh girl – experienced women he had had enough. Rose would've been a change for once. Around this time Rose, having gotten bored by Cal's courting and beginning to think beyond the days of the parties and balls - was starting to slowly realize what would happen afterwards.

What if they weren't fit for a life together?

After all what did she really know about Caledon Hockley?

These early doubts she had mentioned to her mother, only to be confronted with another truth - their debts looming like shadows above their heads. Ruth had made it clear that there was no other way out and Rose, once more the obient daughter, had complied. From her parents marriage she didn't remember anything else and thought that this was simply the way it was.

The first interruption albeit a sad one though, had been nothing compared to the second. Nathan had died himself in March and Cal had lost not only his father but his best friend too.

At this time Cal, Ruth and Rose had been travelling around in Europe – both to impress Rose and her mother and to make trades with some business partners – Cal had taken the first ship back – the Titanic.

Cal still cursed himself for having chosen that dreadful ship, not only because it had sunk, but even more so because Rose had there given herself to this good for nothing little gutter rat, while she had refused him and his advances for months. Even booking adjoined rooms hadn't changed this. Under the watchful eye of Ruth Dewitt Bukater, who had made sure that nothing unappropriate happened between them, there could've been no more than hand-kisses and innocent cheek-stroking.

A far cry from what Cal was used to.

Rose had proved to be no comfort to him after Nathan's death, being much more interested in the Museums they were visiting. Cal had once again longed for Clarissa. The two stiff Dewitt Bukater women were not a lot of fun to take a trip with.

When Jack Dawson had turned up an already desperate situation had turned forlorn. Rose had completely changed, the naïve girl gone she had transformed into what Cal called a slut. Indeed she had offered her body to Dawson in the cause of three days.

Nothing had remained from the girl he had once proposed to and shyly kissed the hand of under the apple tree – it was being replaced by some stranger.

If there was anyone in the world that Cal hated more than anyone else and would never forgive no matter what it was Jack Dawson.

He had made Rose his whore. He had taken away her virginity – Cal was sure he had – he had seen their faces afterwards, when they had come back into the room – the confident smile on Jack's face and that was all proof he had needed.

'Are we a little slut now?'

Still Cal had rejected to let her go. He had left that he owed to his father and his memory to bring her back into decency. Ruth of course had been adamant too, not caring much about her daughter's wishes.

Rose had started to plan out her future with Jack unaware of anything else. Sure enough Cal wouldn't want her now anymore as she had given herself to another man. She had heard it plenty of times from her mother how men looked upon women, who didn't remain a virgin until after their wedding night.

Rose had thought that she would've been able to play out that card.

The truth was however, that without the ship sinking nothing would've changed and Jack Dawson just like Cal's former girlfriends would've eventually diminished. Ruth would've made sure of that.

Cal remembered his father and what he would've said, understanding how the family motto was once more proving to be right.

Oderint dum metuant indeed as neither Ruth nor Cal had ever been very fond of each other. Though of course not wanting Rose to marry Jack Dawson, she had never warmed up with the Hockley's as well. She had come from a popular family in Philadelphia her lineage tracing back to the days of the Mayflower and save for their money and wealth the Hockley's were nothing, but usurpers to her.

Asked or not, she would pompously state to which kind of families and aristocrats she was related to.

Cal had let her have her way. As long as Rose had been alive he had figured that he could do with her as well – after all at least Ruth's presence would've guaranteed him that something like the dreadful Dawson-episode wouldn't have repeated itself.

However with Rose having perished Cal was now only unnerved by her behaviour and her constant demands to dump Clarissa.

Ruth Dewitt Bukater had become yet another problem, but it didn't seem as if she would die anytime soon. Cal was more than angry with her by now.

'I would love to dance with you, Mr Hockley. I mean Cal,' she blushed slightly erupting into her first waltz with her would-be-husband.

His eyes clouded already from the misuse of alcohol, Cal turned the bottle of brandy completely over the last drips spilling onto the floor.

"Damn you, Jack Dawson!" he screamed with urgency and even more so hatred throwing the empty bottle against the next wall.

He sank back into his chair and started to laugh.

How funny this all was! How unbelievable, how ridiculous that he the famous powerful Caledon Hockley had been fooled around by a steerage rat.

'Darling, surely you remember Mr Dawson.'

Of course he did. He did recall him all too well.

His laughing grew louder by the minute as he was thinking of Rose, Clarissa and this bitter sweet memory inside his head.

At least Fabrizio had been convinced.

The silence was at once interrupted by the clicking sounds of heels and a woman's voice. Cal had leant back into his chair, the carpet underneath slowly starting to smell of brandy, not really aware of any surroundings.

"Cal, where are you?"

She found him in his study giggling at what she saw, beginning with collecting the shards.

"Cal, I've to tell you something," she stood up in front of his desk, shaking him slightly.

But still he made no sound other than his own breathing.

"I'm going to get married."

This one at last brought Cal back into full shape.

1 They may hate me as long as they fear me.