Well, I wrote Chapter 2 faster than I thought I would. Clary's not one to answer her calls, huh? I think she will probably wish she had. What do you think? You'll get a little more of Valentine in this chapter. I have always wanted to get a little more in his head and have gravitated to FF's that feature him (especially with his minions). He's going to try to ingratiate himself with her to gain her trust. Clary is hesitant, of course...
Enjoy and THANK YOU for reading!
I do not own any of the characters, only the illustrious Cassandra Clare owns them. I do, however, own this particular story, so please don't be lame and copy/paste it elsewhere.
Previously: "Cat got your tongue?" He murmured, "My name is Valentine Morgenstern. And, my dear, who might you be?"
"Oh. Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Morgenstern." Clary replied politely, hoping to keep this to small talk only. "My name is Clar-" She visibly jumped and cut-off her reply, when her phone began to vibrate, facing up on the table. Sexprotz flashed repeatedly across the screen with a close-up picture of familiar golden, chiseled six-pack abs. Clary's eyes widened. When did fucking Jace Herondale hijack my phone and add that pic? And in German? Douche!
Morgenstern's smile dropped, cocking an eyebrow as he looked down at her phone. He raised his eyes back up to Clary, with a small smile. "Sex stud, huh? Boyfriend? Er, did you want to answer that?" He asked.
Clary grabbed her phone, "Oh god, no…sorry! Definitely not a boyfriend." She pressed ignore and turned the phone over on her table, blushing furiously. She hadn't heard from Jace all summer, after they made-out after her going away party in May. She had been drunk and she would really rather not think about him and his wunder lippen right now. Although now she couldn't get the image of his abs out of her head. Not fair, jerk. Why was he calling her?
Clary decided to change the subject, looking up at Morgenstern. "You speak German?" She took a long drink of her coffee, finishing it off. She set the empty cup on the table.
He shrugged, smirking. "I speak several languages. German, Swiss-German, French, Dutch, Italian, Greek, Spanish, and a few more."
"Wow. That's impressive." Brag much? Please, have a seat." Flustered, she gestured to an empty chair. She had to chill and not think of Jace's abs...About his lips pressed against hers. "As I was saying, my name is Clary, Mr. Morgenstern."
He nodded and gracefully, lowered himself into the chair, across from her. He set his walking stick against the table to his right. "Please call me Valentine, Clary. I saw you across the room and I felt compelled to introduce myself. I hope I have not made you uncomfortable today, with my um…attentions. It seems I may have unnerved you. It was not my intention at all and I'd like to rectify that." He took a deep breath, running his eyes over her face, focusing on her freckled cheeks, and smiled warmly. Clary blushed. She was not used to someone staring at her so intensely. Have I met this dude before?
Valentine continued, his voice getting lower. "From a distance you looked like someone I knew many years ago. Someone I knew when I was younger. Obviously, you aren't that person. You're much too young. You can't be much more than twenty… Um, you didn't mention your last name, my dear." He leaned towards her across the table as if he already knew the answer, or hoped she would speak the right one. What is this guy's game?
Clary pulled back, away from the table and into her chair, distancing herself from him. She smoothed her hair back, tightening her scrunchie before her ponytail became any looser. He watched her movements carefully, his eyes lingering on her hair, and placed his hands in his lap. It was as if he was holding himself back from something; as if he wanted to touch her hair. He was too interested in her. She wanted to know why.
Clary didn't feel that Valentine had lascivious intentions towards her or did he? She definitely didn't get perv-murderer vibes from him. But there was still something off. He definitely wanted something from her. Why had he seemed to be pursuing her, these past few hours? Why the cat and mouse with his two buddies? She tired of being polite or coming off as passive. She was from Brooklyn. Brooklyn Tough, as Simon would say… She decided to get assertive.
"You're right I didn't tell you my last name and frankly, my age is my own business," Clary replied curtly. "I'm not comfortable sharing my personal information with strangers. No offense, but we've just met. You understand that, of course. Right?" Clary narrowed her eyes, trying to look tough. He opened his mouth to speak, but Clary raised her eyebrows, yes both of them, and held her hand up, stopping him. She imagined she looked like her mother - who also was unable to arch a single brow. But she had a powerful presence. Time to channel La Jocelyn. Goals. "I have a few questions for you, if you don't mind." Valentine seemed mildly annoyed that she cut him off, but nodded for her to continue, smiling indulgently.
"What's with your two sidekicks? I'm assuming the two guys sitting over at your table work for you. Did you send them into the café earlier to watch me?" She gestured her hand towards the two men, who both looked back across the lounge, flicking their eyes impassively between Valentine and Clary. "I didn't really appreciate their company or 'attentions' in the café earlier. They made me uncomfortable and I'm not really down with the whole alpha male, sexual harassment shtick." Clary mentally high-fived herself. Brooklyn, baby!
Valentine blinked. Looking taken aback he sat back and laughed out loud, wiping his hand down his face. It was a boisterous laugh that she definitely was not expecting. Albeit startling, it was a welcome reprieve from his previous serious demeanor. Did he know she wasn't trying to be funny? Clary laughed a little, in spite of herself.
"Oh, Miss Clary, I like you. You have moxie, very…American. New Yorker perhaps? Please excuse my associates, Emil and Axel. I confess, I asked them to keep an eye on you while I made some calls. You are a young woman, traveling alone, after all. It's just you seem close in age to my son, so I suppose my fatherly instincts may have gotten the better of me." He gestured to her sketchbook and pencils, changing the subject. "I also noticed you carry a large portfolio and were drawing. So, naturally I was curious about your work. I pride myself in being a steadfast patron of the arts, sometimes purveyor. I'm assuming you're an artist. I was in Rome a few months ago, in fact. I always make a point to visit Galleria Borghese. Bernini's Apollo and Daphne is one of my favorites, in fact."
"Yes. I am an artist, well aspiring, I suppose." Clary said quietly. "I'm earning my undergraduate degree in Art History and Classics from NYU. I was in Italy over the summer, studying art of The Renaissance. I'm actually returning from Rome." Clary decided a little information couldn't hurt. Bernini. Impressive. A purveyor of art, huh? I wonder if he knows my mother's work.
He looked pointedly over to his men and they returned the look. The men seemed to have a silent conversation. Macho telepathy?
Valentine turned back to Clary. "Really? How serendipitous." He gave her a pleased smile, sighing. "As for the extra attention you received from my associates, I assure you it won't happen again. I'll speak to them, but please don't begrudge them too much. You are a very beautiful young woman. I'm sure you get a lot of male attention; especially when unaccompanied. If I had a daughter as lovely as you, I would certainly be protective. My apologies. I do hope we can start over." He seemed sincere and Clary couldn't help but think her dad would have done something similar, if he were to notice a young woman traveling alone. As archaic and patriarchal as it was, Clary decided to let it go.
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but, uh, thank you. There are no hard feelings, Mr. - I mean Valentine. No worries." Clary smiled tightly back at him, feeling a little embarrassed for basically yelling at him. She would probably never see him again anyway and didn't feel like debating with a stranger about female independence vs. toxic masculinity. But she would sketch the hell out of the awkward memories she made with Valentine Morgenstern. And his two man-bitches.
An announcement over the loudspeaker let Clary know that her flight home was open for boarding. "I'm afraid that's my flight. It was nice to chat with you. Safe travels to you." Clary couldn't think of anything else to say and felt silly. I guess I'll never know what he really wanted with me. Oh well, you meet the most interesting people at airports, she thought to herself. They both stood, gathering their personal items.
"Oh! Indeed. One more thing, Clary…" Valentine reached a hand out towards her, producing a black business card, with gold embossed writing. He wrapped her hand in his, folding the card into her palm, almost intimately. She pulled her hand back quickly, taking the card from him, turning it to read. Valentine Morgenstern, Morgenstern International Industries, President & CEO. The card had his office and private phone numbers. Interesting.
Clary had heard of the company. It was a huge conglomerate with financial stakes in many international corporations. It employed thousands of people throughout The US and Europe. Geez, apparently Mr. Valentine Morgenstern was quite the big deal. No wonder he has minions, Clary thought to herself.
"It seems we are both heading to New York. You are welcome to join me on my private jet instead of flying on such a mundane public flight." He offered her his arm expectantly. "I have some business to attend to at my Manhattan offices, over the next few months. I'd like to meet you for lunch sometime; somewhere public, of course. We can get to know each other better. I think we may have many things to discuss. Perhaps I'll bring my son. He'll be continuing his studies for his MBA at NYU this January. You have something in common, it seems."
His son goes to NYU too? I wonder if I've ever seen him. Val sure is pushy, Clary thought. Valentine smiled knowingly at her. Shit. Did I think that out loud? "That's very nice of you Valentine, but I must decline. I have friends I'm meeting and they are expecting me on this flight. Lunch sometime would be lovely, however. Thank you, but I must go. Oh, my last name is Fray, by the way. Clarissa Fray. My friends call me Clary." She said, giving him one last smile. Why not? It would be a great opportunity to find out why you're so fucking interested in me. She turned and walked towards the gate, taking her place in line to board the plane. Almost home.
Valentine Morgenstern watched Jocelyn Fairchild's beautiful daughter walk away from him to board her plane. Clarissa Fray. The smile fading from his face, he picked up her empty coffee cup and placed it into a plastic bag. Emil approached him, taking the bag from his boss, while Axel stayed behind, watching Clary walk away. Axel was obviously taken with the young redhead. Clarissa, thought Valentine, I like that much better. "How soon do you want the results, sir?" asked Emil. Valentine ignored him, staring after the young woman, pursing his lips.
He knew his ex-wife had changed her name after she had run from him, nearly 22 years ago. Divorced him. He couldn't even contest it, as she had her own deep financial and legal resources, courtesy of her damned self-righteous family. The fucking Fairchilds, along with Lucian Graymark, had helped her leave him. She married and sullied herself with that treacherous dog, who now called himself Luke Garroway. Apparently, she also bore that peasant a child. A child that has grown into quite a stunning young woman. So much like her mother, Valentine thought to himself.
He had kept tabs on Jocelyn, from afar, over the years. How had he never learned of her daughter? Clarissa's name never came up from his investigations. Was it because Clarissa had taken her mother's fake maiden name? Fray not Fairchild. He knew Jocelyn lived a very private life in New York and that Luke Garroway was some ridiculous police detective. They had managed, somehow, to keep their daughter off the grid. Probably due to Lucian's former ties to British Intelligence. All of those years, that bastard was never truly his friend; just an agent infiltrating his organization. Lucian had tried to uncover the Morgenstern's secret criminal enterprises, but was unable to ever pin anything solid on Valentine. He was able to take my wife from me though.
He knew Jocelyn was a celebrated artist, based in New York. He had anonymously purchased several of her pieces, over the years after he accidentally came across one of her paintings at a New York charity gala. He instantly knew the piece was one of hers. Her style was so superior and unique. He was sorely disappointed that she wasn't at that gala. Apparently she never attended any of her showcases or galas, adding to the mystique of the artist.
It was how he learned that she went by Jocelyn Fray professionally. His favorite purchase was one of her pieces called Ashes. It had been a stunning painting of a sprawling Victorian manor on a sunny day, with gardens and ponds. Of course Valentine knew it was Fairchild Manor, Jocelyn's ancestral home, back in Idris. So sentimental, Jocey. The last time he had seen the manor, he watched it burn to the ground, with Jocelyn's parents, Adele and Granville Fairchild, incapacitated inside. Their deaths were her punishment for leaving him. The fire was deemed a horrible tragic accident, not traceable back to him. He was sure she knew the truth. He had left her alone after that. There had been enough pain and tumult between them. He had lost his taste for revenge, knowing her parent's brutal deaths and the destruction of her family home had to have crushed her...and that she would never come back to him. That was all over twenty years ago.
It wasn't until he saw a flash of bright red curls on a tiny young woman in Rome, this past June that he decided his thirst for revenge had not quite been quenched. He had been sitting in his limousine, waiting in traffic when his driver had pulled up to a stop right beside her. The windows were tinted or else she would see Valentine staring, open-mouthed at her. She was standing with a large group of students, in line for a tour bus, laughing and conversing. She wore a short, loose-fitting purple dress, with brown sandals and carried a large bag with a pad of paper and folded easel sticking out. Her red hair blazed in the roman sun. Mesmerizing.
He quickly took a few pictures with his phone. It was like seeing Jocelyn again for the first time when he was a young man. His heart pounded, his palms sweating. The resemblance was too uncanny to be a coincidence. The emerald-green eyes and art supplies were the kicker. It was then that he realized that Jocelyn had kept a very big secret. A daughter. But whose? Mine or the peasant's?
Emil cleared his throat nervously, breaking Valentine out of his dark reverie, bringing him back to the present. "Excuse me sir, but how soon would you like the results? He repeated.
"I want them now, Pangborn! Treat them as critical and do not disappoint me. Make sure her DNA is tested against my own and Graymark's or Garroway's –whatever the fucker calls himself. I need to know whose she is." Valentine hissed through his teeth. She'll belong to me or mine regardless. He smirked to himself. My revenge is coming, Garroway.
Emil Pangborn nodded, quickly walking away to transport the cup to their closest lab contact in Amsterdam. Mr. Morgenstern only used his last name when he was angry or impatient. He didn't like being the focus of such anger. It could be deadly.
Valentine started to walk as his phone vibrated in his pocket, pulling it out he placed it to his ear. "I hope you have good news for me, Jonathan." He said, closing his eyes. Listening to his son's long response, Valentine's hands began to shake, his face flushing with rage. "That is an unacceptable complication", he seethed. "It was a simple order. Which you have, unsurprisingly failed to carry out. You will have to be punished, of course, especially if she dies. You are a colossal disappointment." He lowered his voice. "I've made contact with the girl. Her name is Clarissa Fray. Still go forward, as we discussed, and do not fail me again." Without waiting for a reply, he hung up the call and summoned Axel.
"Mortmain!" he spoke sharply to the man, using his last name, "Change of plan. We have to reformulate my plan, apparently. Something unforeseen has come up. Also, make sure you never presume to disrespect Clarissa again. She is not for you. Do not touch her… unless I tell you to…" Axel swallowed and nodded. The two men then walked in silence to the Morgenstern hanger to board Valentine's jet to New York. The game was afoot.