Chapter 16: Oh Jonathan…what a wicked web. Can he ever NOT be a creep?
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: "Clary, baby. You're having a panic attack, slow your breathing…look in my eyes, sweetheart. Breathe with me. He's not here. You're safe, sweetheart. Breathe."
Jonathan spread a plush black throw over Clarissa's sleeping form and looked down at her, a triumphant smile spreading over his face. Beautiful. She had fallen asleep on his large cream couch after spending hours poring over the Morgenstern catalog of her mother's art. It had been conveniently laid out on his coffee table, as if waiting for her. It was. They had ordered takeout for lunch and thoroughly discussed the job in Idris, college life, and art, as it was apparent she didn't wish to talk more about the events at her detective's apartment. Although I have a good idea what must have happened between you and Jace. Jonathan had tried to coax more information out of her, during the car ride. But, she would only tell him that they had fought and she needed to be able to think about things. When they drove away from Herondale's, she had asked Jonathan to take her to his place. She didn't want to see her roommate yet (in case she was back) and was afraid Jace would come to her apartment before she was ready for him to. Jonathan had quickly agreed, of course, playing the supportive friend, letting her know that he was "there for her, if she needs to talk things through…" She had thanked him and apologized for pulling him into her drama. No worries, Clarissa. I'm delighted to have you all to myself.
He continued to stand over her sleeping form, studying her. She laid in a relaxed fetal position on her left side. Her thick red curls covered the pillow beneath her head. Jonathan leaned in closer and inhaled the scent of her hair. Strawberries. Not coconut. Still delicious. His eyes ran over her face, marveling at the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her perfect pouty lips parted and she sighed. I wish I could kiss them again. Suck them. Bite them. Stop. She looked so innocent and vulnerable. He wanted to tear her clothes off to grip and penetrate every part of her. Corrupt her…fuck her until she– Stop. He took a deep breath and stepped away from her.
Jonathan seated himself at the other end of the large couch and opened a book, so she would see him when she awoke, immersed in reading about Post-Impressionism. He unbuttoned another button on his shirt and pulled his sleeves to the elbow so she would accidentally glimpse his chest and muscled forearms. He had to play the long game with Clarissa Fairchild. She was fragile right now, but no fool. He didn't want to scare her off by coming on strong. So, he would be her friend for now. If that's what it took to get closer to her, to win her over, so be it. He would be there for her, listen to her, and share with her…all in wait for her.
So far things were going swimmingly. He, his father, and Amatis had really made an impression on Clarissa. Her longing over seeing her mother's work in person would be too much to resist. He almost felt bad that so much of Jocelyn's works in progress had burned with her. Almost. He was certain Clarissa would accept the offer to come to Idris and curate father's collection. Jonathan couldn't wait to get her out of the States and to their home country. There, he would be able to immerse her in their history, their legacies…him. He would win her over. She would be his. Father had pulled off an Oscar winning performance by spinning his sordid past with Jocelyn Fairchild and Lucian Graymark. Jonathan had quite enjoyed it…except for the parts where his father's eyes lingered too long on Clarissa's face…her body…her breasts. Jonathan had seen the flicker of lust that drifted into those looks. Father should be on guard, if he should even think to try and take what is mine.
He had been surprised to receive Clarissa's text, at almost five o'clock that morning, asking him to come for her…to rescue her. It seemed something had upset her so much that she had to leave her detective's early. Of course Jonathan was more than happy to come and get his Clarissa…and take her from Jace Herondale. Again.
Jonathan inhaled the aroma of his black coffee and finally took a sip. That first drink of morning coffee is magical. It was nearly five AM, but Jonathan was awake and dressed for the day. He had already had his early morning run, lifted weights, and showered. He had taken his father's catalog of Jocelyn's art back to his new apartment in Brooklyn. He would call Clary later today and see if she wanted to have dinner and look it over. He had recently rented a large luxury apartment in Brooklyn, to be closer to Clarissa. It was easier than driving outside of the city to and from the mansion. Clarissa was more likely to agree to see him more often, if he lived closer. He took another sip of coffee, flipping through the catalog, when his phone vibrated on the counter. Who's texting at this hour? Probably Father, he thought. Jonathan raised his eyebrows and smiled as he read a text from Clarissa. "Are you there? Please call me." it read.
Jonathan quickly called her back and she answered immediately. "Clarissa?" He asked. She had responded, crying, her voice shaking. Jonathan had felt instantly protective. "Are you crying? Has someone hurt you?" She told him through her tears that she was at Jace's and was not hurt, but she needed to leave. She sounded distraught and Jonathan bristled thinking about what that fucking Herondale may have done or said to make her cry so hard…He had better not hurt his Clarissa. "Shh. It's going to be okay, of course I will come for you. Get ready and I will text you when I get there. Understand, love?" After the call ended, Jonathan had rushed out to drive back to Herondale's to get Clarissa. Time to be her hero. She had sounded so upset. She would need so much support from her friend.
Of course Jonathan already knew what had upset her so badly, that she would want to leave. Their tech team was scheduled to send the pictures and video to Clarissa this morning. They must have sent it earlier than planned. Good. He had to admit, the video that Emil Pangborn and Kaelie had made was a nice touch. Freaks. Herondale had no idea that his "confidential informant" Kaelie worked for the Morgenstern Family and had for a while. One of our best dealers…and a nice piece of ass, according to Emil…if you like fake titted sluts. Jonathan preferred…well Clarissa. Emil had easily surpassed Herondale's security system and planted his cheater-shit all over the detective's apartment while he was at work. Kaelie had shown up to make the video with him after her weekly meeting with Jace, where they left the used condom and a nice pile of her lingerie in the laundry bin.
When Jonathan had arrived in front of Herondale's building, he had immediately texted Clarissa of his arrival. He waited about twenty minutes with no response. What was happening up there? Maybe Herondale was begging on his hands and knees…what if she believes him? What if they're fucking…?I'll have to watch Emil's surveillance videos later. Jonathan had ordered cameras placed in Jace's bedroom, bathroom, and the common areas. He could watch their whole fight room to room later. Jonathan laughed imagining Jace's face when he saw the pics and video. He had also had cameras placed in Clarissa's apartment as well…he'd check those later as well, when she's home alone. He had yet to see his Clarissa's whole naked body.
He jumped when his phone buzzed with a text from Clarissa. "Coming out now". Jonathan checked his hair in his mirror and messed it up a little to make himself look frazzled and worried about her. But still hot. He stepped out of the car to watch for her, in case the detective decided to join her. He leaned patiently against the passenger door. It wasn't long before he saw Clarissa coming to the glass doors of the lobby. She pushed the door open and spotted him, giving him a small smile. She then spun around, her back to the door as it closed again. He saw fucking Herondale rush up to her and put his hand on her and hold her by the arm. He rushed to the door and ripped it open in time to hear Clarissa say, "Jace– Let go." Jonathan had to fight the urge to attack the detective when he saw his hand on her arm. The arm of his Clarissa. Mine. Be calm. If you beat Herondale to death, Clarissa won't like it. Patience.
Jonathan took a deep breath and clenched his fists. "I believe the lady asked you to let go…Is everything alright, Clarissa? Are you ready to go?" He looked down at her, then glowered over her head at the detective who glared just as hard, back at him. He pulled the door further open for Clarissa and she rushed past him to his car. He smirked and looked back at Jace. "Don't worry detective, I'll take good care of Clarissa." Again.
A small feminine moan and a sigh, from the other end of his couch, caught Jonathan's attention. He closed his book and set it aside, turning in his seat to watch his sleeping beauty. She had turned over onto her back and the blanket had fallen to her waist. She moaned lightly again, took a deep breath through her nose, and lifted one arm over her head, curling it above her head on the pillow. She turned her face into the crook of her arm and furrowed her brows in her sleep. The Morgenstern pendant glittered in the dim lamplight in her chest. Jonathan's eyes widened. The front zipper of her green pullover had come down, during her nap, exposing her black lace bralette. Her breasts were pushed up, rounding into the most perfect cleavage Jonathan had ever seen. He swallowed, feeling the blood rush straight to his cock. He reached for his phone and took a few pictures of her for later. Was Clarissa having a dream? I sure hope it's about me. He reached his hand down and rubbed his hardened member through his jeans. His cheeks puffed as he exhaled through pursed lips. Stop it. Long game.
As his eyes slowly roamed over her freckled cleavage, he was reminded of the topless sketch he stole from her at the airport. Her drawing skills were spot on as he recognized a few well-placed freckles in living color at the end of his couch. Jonathan looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath before getting up to cover her up. Before I lose control and absolutely ravage her. He stood up and walked behind the couch and reached down to pull the throw back up to her shoulders when he heard it…when he heard her say his name. His other name. "Sebastian…no…" she mumbled softly, a troubled look marred her peaceful face. His hand froze above her and he smiled. He remembered Halloween night…unzipping her black latex costume, exposing her black lace pushup bra…running his tongue and teeth between her breasts…Stop it. Clarissa whimpered, "Stop…" She was dreaming of him. Good. He reached down and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, returned to his spot at the end of the couch, and reopened his book. Hopefully I got past second base this time.
Clary was so warm and comfortable. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking and stifling a yawn, she stretched her arms over her head and her blanket fell down. Shit. My top came unzipped. I hate this pullover. I must have fallen asleep. Clary blushed and zipped it back up. She saw Jonathan at the end of the couch, his long legs stretched out onto the coffee table. Her bare feet were on his lap, and his warm hands rested on her ankles. A book rested on his stomach, which rose and fell slowly as he slept. Post-Impressionism, huh? His head rested back on the couch and tilted to his left towards her. Clary couldn't help but notice how handsome he was. His hair was messy, but hot-messy and hung down over his forehead like some teen heart throb. His shirt was unbuttoned a bit more than she remembered, showing off a nicely toned chest. So hot. If I had met him before Jace, we might have been a couple. We have so much in common. He's so cultured, funny…sexy. But he's not Jace.
Jace. What am I going to do? I want to believe him so much. Those pictures…The way he acted after he saw them and I tried to leave. He scared me. Maybe we are going too fast and need to slow down. Take a break from each other. Clary frowned. The thought of ending things with Jace made Clary's chest hurt and stomach twist. The problem is I love Jace Herondale. Clary shivered and sat up to look at her phone. She had several missed calls and texts from Jace and one from Izzy. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the cushions.
She opened the texts, starting with Izzy's. "Are you okay, babe? I talked to Jace. He told me what happened. All of it. I'm home now with Simon. We can all talk when you get home. Don't do anything you'll regret. Love you." Clary knew what she meant by that. Don't do Jonathan. Clary frowned at her phone. No shit, Iz. I'm not stupid. Jace must have told Iz and Simon that she left with Jonathan this morning. God, I have so much to talk to them about. Amatis, Valentine, Idris…Jace…the blonde. The video. That I'm Clarissa Fairchild, a long lost Idrian heiress, apparently. Clary rolled her eyes. So weird. What else had Jocelyn kept from her? Clary texted Izzy back. "I'm ok. Coming home soon. We'll all talk. Love you." Izzy had quickly responded with a heart-emoji.
Clary read through the texts from Jace. They were all the same. "I'm sorry. I love you. Please call me. Come home. Believe me…Please. Are you ok?" She hadn't even been able to tell him anything about what had happened at her meeting with the Morgensterns and Aunt Amatis before. Clary took another deep breath and covered her eyes. In her heart of hearts, she knew Jace was not a cheater. It just didn't feel right. I'm going to have to believe him and give him another chance. They'd already been through so much. He had been there for her through everything since she lost her parents. She owed him another chance. But some things would have to change. His temper…his hands on her, not listening to her when she told him she wanted to leave. Not acceptable. They'd work it out. I hope so. She texted Jace. "I'm ok. We can talk now. Please come and get me and we can talk." She texted him Jonathan's address, closed her eyes, and hoped he got back to her soon.
Clary jumped when she felt warm hands engulf her right foot, slowly massaging her arch. Apparently, Jonathan was now awake. It felt really good. Clary opened her eyes and murmured. "Hey, sleepyhead. Looks like we both crashed." He smiled back at her and hummed in his throat, but didn't speak. He switched his ministrations to her left foot. It felt even better. Clary felt herself blushing, she shivered as she felt arousal begin to uncoil within her. He's turning me on. Stop it, ho. He was staring at her, a knowing smile on his face. Shit. I think he read my mind. She swallowed and pulled her feet off of his lap and folded them beneath her. "Um, thanks. I'm sorry to wear you out with my drama, Jon. I'm sure you have better things to do than hangout with–" Her phone buzzed. Jace. Thank god. She looked at her phone and read his text. "I'll be there in 15."
He laughed lightly. "I hope that helped you feel a bit better, Clarissa. Less tense. I know you've been through a lot, with that long meeting yesterday, where you learned so much about your family's– history. I'm sure seeing the catalog of your mother's work, meeting Amatis, and my father is weighing heavily on you…and I know you and Detective Herondale had some issues this morning that really upset you." He leaned towards her and took her hands in his. His thumbs rubbing circles on the tops of her hands. "You know I'm here if you need to just talk...someone not as close to things. Fresh perspectives. Friends, remember? We could just go hangout at a museum or something…you could show me your mother's New York gallery." Clary looked into his dark eyes and smiled. Fresh Perspectives. Jonathan was right. He wasn't involved in her inner circle. She liked that about him. Sometimes it was hard to process and talk to her friends about her problems because everyone in her life was either already involved or knew each other too well…Simon, Izzy, Magnus, and Jace. That's why she had asked him to take her to his apartment instead of home. She wasn't ready this morning to deal with hurricane Izzy, protective Simon, and…Jace. But she couldn't run away from them forever.
She looked back at Jonathan and smiled. "I'd like that, Jon. Call me later this week. We can do lunch and I can show you my mom's work. I have many of her pieces in my own studio at my place. Please let Valentine know that I will have an answer for him soon. I need to talk things over with my friends…and Jace." His eyebrows rose when she said Jace's name and he nodded. She sighed and pulled her hands back to her lap. "It's a big decision. Possibly life changing, you know?" Her phone buzzed and she picked it up and sighed, looking thoughtful. "I have to get going now, Jon. It's time to discuss what happ- things with Jace. He's outside to drive me home. I– I can't thank you enough for being there for me. I have to face the music now and deal with…everything." Her eyes welled with tears. They stood from the couch and she folded the black fluffy throw and set it on the couch.
Jonathan watched her fold the blanket and put it on his couch. Her eyes filled with tears. He reached for her and gently pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head. She smells heavenly. "Clarissa, listen. You should not be with someone who makes you cry…or puts their hands on you. Answer me, honestly, love. Do you feel safe with Jace? Does he have a temper? If you need me to come outside with you– If you're afraid of him–…" He felt her arms squeeze him. Time to sprinkle those little seeds of doubt. Give her some things to ponder…
She turned her face up to him, returning his embrace, and shook her head, smiling sadly. "I'm not afraid of him, Jonathan. He does have a temper, yes…but would never hurt me. I'm safe with him. He loves me and I love him…we have a lot to get through and we will get through it. But, thank you. I mean it." She pulled back from him, turned her back and walked to his front door. She bent down and slipped on her boots. Jonathan's eyes glittered angrily. He walked after her, bit the inside of his mouth hard, then plastered on a fake smile. She thinks she loves Herondale. That can't be allowed to continue. Obviously the pictures and video hadn't been enough. She must believe whatever shit he told her. Something more will have to be done. Something that cannot be refuted…
Jonathan slid Clary's coat over her shoulders, standing behind her. She turned back to him and lifted up on her toes to kiss his cheek. Just a friendly kiss, Jonathan assumed, just as she had yesterday when he had dropped her off at Herondale's. How about this instead. He quickly turned his face, catching her lips with his, kissing her gently. She returned his kiss for half a moment then gasped and pulled back, blushing. Interesting. He looked back at her, just as surprised and blushed. "Oh shit, Clarissa. I'm so sorry…I– I didn't know you were going to kiss my cheek and I turned and your lips are so soft and…I am really embarrassed." He stammered and stepped back from her with his hands up. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, putting her hands on his, pulling them down. She laughed nervously, avoiding his eyes. "It's okay…it was just an accident. No harm no foul, Jon. Goodbye…and thank you again, for everything. Thanks for being there for me." She opened his door and slipped out, smiling at him over her shoulder and blushing again before the door closed. She blushed again. I think I may be getting to her. Now I need to get to Herondale. Fucker.