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Chapter 12
Malcolm watched as Ollie led Clara away in the direction of the bar and for a moment he considered stopping them. That guy was an idiot, but he trusted Clara to figure that out on her own. Instead Malcolm chose to yell at Glenn for bringing him along in the first place.
Even though he was feeling a little thirsty, walking up to the bar to get a glass of orange juice was currently out of the question if he didn't want to talk to Clara or Ollie – and he really, really didn't. Clara was laughing about something when that twat handed her a glass of champagne as if it was the most hilarious matter she had ever witnessed. Malcolm turned away and headed in the other direction so he wouldn't have to look at them any further, especially not at Clara who was way too pretty tonight.
"Malcolm," Terri's voice made him turn around. Oh no, not her. Why was there no one that he liked at this event? "About that e-mail yesterday. I just wanted to double check whether you were actually okay with it."
Malcolm's face turned into a frown. "E-Mail? What e-mail?"
"The photoshoot at the school," Terri went on even though Malcolm still had no idea what the fuck she was talking about. "I'm not sure whether you were being sarcastic in that mail. Are you going to be there or not?"
He pulled a face, utterly confused by now. "Terri, what e-mail?" he asked angrily, "I haven't the fucking foggiest what you're talking about."
Terri's shoulders sank as she rolled her eyes. "I sent you an e-mail, one you replied to by the way, asking whether you would want to pose for the photoshoot at the school along with Nicola. You replied and said yes. I was just wondering whether you were being serious or fucking with me."
"Clara," Malcolm breathed furiously before he turned around and left Terri standing in the middle of the room.
"Hey," she called after him, "Was that a yes or no?"
But Malcolm ignored her. Instead he made his way across the room to where Clara was still laughing about one of Ollie's jokes. It was about time he put an end to that anyway.
"Malcolm, what-" Clara broke off when he reached for her arm and dragged her into a more quiet corner, "Ow! Let me go."
"You agreed to a photoshoot at a school in my name," he barked at her, his voice hushed but he still managed bring his anger across.
"Yeah, I did," Clara replied defensively and tore her arm away from him, "You told me to handle the e-mails yesterday, so I did. I thought it was a good opportunity to show that you and Nicola get along. You've been reading the press lately. You know what they say."
Malcolm opened his mouth to protest but he couldn't find anything to say against it. Clara was right. Like she so often was.
Then he heard her sigh. "Alright, I'm going back to Ollie. He was just telling me a rather funny story."
When Malcolm had just been about to calm down, the anger was suddenly ignited once more. He straightened his back and looked down at Clara, at the same time pretending not to see her at all. "Don't let Ollie lure you into drinking. He's made a fool of himself more than just once at events like this," he told her sternly. Well, technically it had been only once at the party's Christmas event. And he had been far from the only one. Yet Malcolm hated how well Clara seemed to get along with a blithering idiot like him.
"What?" Clara cocked her eyebrows, "Are you afraid I'm going to get drunk and embarrass you?"
"I just think it's wiser not to drink at all," he argued, "There's press here tonight."
"And I think I can decide that for myself. Why are you attacking me like this?"
Malcolm was spared an answer when the first speech started and Clara headed off to where everyone else was gathering. He followed her reluctantly, the view of her plunging back suddenly more than just a little distracting as she walked away from him. Why did Clara have to be like that? Why did she have to be smart and spirited and pretty? Why did she have to be so. . . so. . . Malcolm couldn't even find a word for it. Fitting? Yes, they fit together somehow and it was confusing him.
He positioned himself where Clara couldn't see him but from where he could steal a glance every now and then, only to see her being entertained by that prick Ollie, who looked like he was still attending school. Was that what Clara was into? The idiot school boy? Then why had she had sex with him in his office? Malcolm would probably never know.
After the speeches were over they moved on into the adjoining hall and this time he had no way to separate Clara from Ollie because unfortunately Clara was seated right between the two of them when they were served dinner.
"You have a lovely dress," Terri commented happily.
"Thank you," Clara smiled sincerely, "Malcolm bought it for me. I hadn't brought any of my pretty dresses to London with me."
Ollie burst into laughter. "You made Malcolm go shopping?" he asked, still laughing, "Man, you really have him pussy-whipped."
Malcolm had been angry before, but when Clara had the fucking audacity to laugh at this joke his patience had truly come to an end.
"Shut your fucking mouth or I will take your glasses and fucking stuff them up your arse," he shouted at Ollie, "And after I've done that I will fuck you. I will find a spiked mace and fuck you with it until-"
"I think I've lost my appetite," Clara announced and dropped her cutlery onto her plate with a loud clatter. She glared at him and it only enraged him more.
"You have no right, Clara. You encouraged him!"
"I was just trying to be friendly," she tried to defend herself but apparently soon realized that it was no good. Clara dropped her napkin on the table and got up from her chair to storm off in the direction of the exit.
Malcolm followed after her, determined not to let her flee the building like she had just fled the table. If the press saw it their spat would be all over the newspapers by morning. He caught up with her in the room containing their coats and jackets.
"What the hell is wrong with you tonight?" Clara barked at him as soon as they had both realized they were alone. "You were perfectly nice until we came here. Then you lecture me about your mails and drinking and then you attack Ollie because he made a joke!"
"I hate him," Malcolm grumbled, "Apart from Nicola he is the worst thing that could have happened to this party. He is vile and immature and-"
He broke off when once again it dawned on him that they were alone in this room. Just him and Clara. No one else that could see or hear them. Without thinking about it further Malcolm stepped forward and bent down to crash their lips together for a kiss.
He had been so sure Clara would push him away but she didn't. Instead she opened her mouth and let him in, kissing him back so eagerly that soon they tumbled backwards until they hit a wall. Clara hooked her arms around his neck and buried her hand in his hair, pulling roughly until he moaned into her mouth. Malcolm pressed her harder against the wall with the weight of his body, grinding his hips against hers and he could feel his cock twitch at the thought of peeling Clara out of this dress. Would she really let him?
He hissed when Clara bit down on his bottom lip but it felt so good. He wanted to take her right then and there, make it rough and quick before anyone could catch them but then suddenly Clara's mouth was gone from his. Her mouth. How would that mouth feel around his cock? He was dying to find out.
"Malcolm," Clara's voice tore him from his thoughts and he opened his eyes to look at her just when she gently pushed him away from her. "You said this wouldn't happen again."
Oh. Yes. He had said that. Why had he said that? Right now Malcolm would give about anything to do it again.
He brought his hands to her hips and guided them so Clara could feel his growing erection against her belly as he bent down to her ear. "I don't care," he whispered hoarsely, "I want to fuck you."
"No," Clara told him with a kind smile, pushing him away once more. "We can't afford a scandal."
And with that Clara reached for her coat and headed out of the room, leaving him aroused and utterly confused.