C2 Chapter 2

Marcia stands with her head spinning, her heart racing, and sweat forming on her forehead – even in the coolness of the office.

Her eyes dart about in front of the open crate. Her hands are shaking...shaking with anger? With rage? With embarrassment? She cannot determine which.

She starts to pace and then suddenly rushes out of the office after Jullian.

As Marcia reaches the parking lot, Jullian crosses the street and enters his car. She watches as the car drives off.

Her fingers clench at her side as she stares after the disappearing vehicle, muttering to herself, “Five years...just like that...five years. How? Why am I reacting like this?” She closes her eyes as the car disappears from view.

==========

“Well, how was it? You left pretty early this morning and you’re just getting back now?” A dark-haired man comments as Jullian walks into the brightly lit game room of his family’s opulent mansion.

“Good evening, Father,” Jullian responds, walking toward the minibar to pour himself some whiskey.

Jullian's father, Elander Grayson, raises his near-empty whisky glass to Jullian in greeting. “How was it?” He presses his son.

Jullian walks toward his father who is seated in his favorite dark brown leather wingback chair facing the room’s entrance. He settles into the black three-seater leather sofa to his father’s left, crossing one lean leg over the other.

Taking a sip from his glass, he replies sullenly, “As expected, she hates me.”

“Now, now, don't worry about that. She's young. Of course, she has her passions, and she's allowed to have emotional outbursts.” Elander responds, a slight smirk playing on his lips, as he looks his son in the eye and takes a sip from his glass.

Jullian, cupping his drink in both hands, stares down at the carpet, silently replaying scenes from that morning at Oltre Bacchus. The scene with Marcia’s face as she worked on the crate; the scene with Marcia, mouth half open; the scene with Marcia… Jullian’s eyes refocus as he pulls himself back to the present.

“What do I do father? How can I fix this? She won't even talk to me.” He asks his father, his voice low and strained, not raising his eyes.

“Well, my boy, there's the easy way and there's the hard way,” Elander replies cryptically.

Jullian’s forehead creases, and he glances up at his father with one eyebrow slightly raised. “How do you mean?”

Elander looks at him, tilting his head to the left and lightly shaking it as if he were sorry for his son “Well, Jullian Grayson, heir to the Grayson empire. What do you want that is out of your reach? It’s a simple matter of reaching out your hand and taking it.” He responds in a relaxed tone.

“Or you could do it the hard way, try wooing her,” Elander continues, raising his glass in a mock toast to his son, his eyes laughing.

“By the way, help me understand something. Why are you, son, so distressed over some, college crush who just happened to walk back into your life?” He inquires sarcastically, eyeing his son lazily.

“Father, she's not a crush. I was in love with her. And now that she's back, I need to make her understand –” Jullian responds firmly but his father abruptly cuts him off.

“Understand what? You are the heir of the Grayson family. You don't have to explain anything to anyone!” Elander Grayson stands up in a huff, looking down at his son, who is still seated, legs still crossed, his drink balanced on his knee.

“You don't have to explain anything,” he continues, “As a commoner, a mere plebeian, she should know her place! Whatever you want, is what she must do. This is how it has always been!” He barks at Jullian.

Jullian Grayson meets his father’s gaze, “But father you know that –”

“Ah, enough of this!” Elander spits, his eyes narrowing. “Then and now are not the same. Now you want to prove yourself, right? You want to show us that you can make your own decisions and that your choices are wise and true, right?” He retorts as he stares down his son.

Jullian shifts his gaze back to the carpet, away from his father's intense light blue eyes.

That is what we always do.

Whatever we want, all the time, no matter how it affects anyone.

No matter the consequences.

Jullian reflects bitterly.

His lips purse and his eyes darken as he takes a deep swig from his glass. “I hear you, father. I understand. But this is something that I need to handle, and I need to handle it by myself.” Jullian replies, his voice composed.

His father, now standing behind the wingback chair he has been sitting in, rests his forearms on the chair’s back. “Well, you know how we handle things,” he responds, his tone calm and even.

“And of course, if you need any help, you can always come to Daddy,” he quips, staring at Jullian while slowly swirling the remainder of his drink.

Elander salutes his son with his near-empty glass, a playful, wicked, glint in his eyes. He downs the last drops of his whiskey and leaves the game room.

Jullian uncrosses his long legs and sits back, exhaling. His arms hang off to his sides, and he stares at the chandelier that graces the room.

He suddenly exhales, long and exaggeratedly. He wants to scream, but that would be unbecoming. So, he does what he has been taught to do. He takes deep breaths, staring at the chandelier, and counts down from ten slowly in his mind.

When he gets to one, he downs his drink, places the glass on the stool beside the sofa, and heads for the home gym on the second floor.

It is time for him to hit something and hit it hard.