Wrapped in a Donovan Read online

  “Savian,” she said.

  “No!” he yelled in response. “Just…no!”

  He was moving again, heading to the door.

  She called his name one more time, but he ignored it, slamming that door so hard behind him he could have sworn he heard the wood cracking.

  The next time Savian was behind the wheel of his truck he said a prayer. He did not want to get into an accident, or cause anyone else harm, but he was sure he shouldn’t be driving in the state he was currently in. His breath was still coming in jagged puffs as he pulled out of the parking garage and headed back to his apartment. After a while of trying to keep his hands from shaking on the steering wheel, he’d switched on the radio, hoping the music would help to calm him down.

  When the Christmas music blared through the speakers, he gritted his teeth and slapped his palm against the knob to hurriedly turn it off. He wanted to punch something. No, he wanted to punch someone. That guy with the drink in his hand would do. And so would Wesley Boyer. And Dane Ausby. He couldn’t hit a woman so thinking about Roslyn Ausby only made him curse again.

  What the hell was happening to him! To his life and his family?

  He slammed his truck’s door and went back to his apartment, into the dark living room he’d just left, and dropped down onto the couch once again. Dragging his hands over his face, Savian searched for calm. He reached deep inside for a quiet and soothing place, just as the therapist had taught him to do all those years ago. He groaned when he couldn’t find it, realizing with a start that the quiet and soothing place he’d recently come to rely on was with Jenise.

  Standing quickly then, he paced the length of his living room, going from the floor-to-ceiling windows to the wall where family pictures hung in a circular pattern. His mind whirled with words and events, faces and places. For a moment he felt as if he wasn’t sure if he was coming or going. His chest hurt. He struggled for air and fought for clarity.

  He could see her smile and hear her laughter. The Christmas tree lighting had made her happy. She’d sniffed that mistletoe before they’d made love on the bed and after they’d come out of the shower. When they’d watched the holiday cartoons on the jet, she’d sang along with those songs as well. She said she deserved better than him. And she did. Was it the man in her apartment? Was he the better man for her?

  Savian was just steps away from the wall at that point and when he yelled with exasperation he pulled back a fist and slammed it into the wall just beneath the family portrait taken about ten years ago.

  #

  “You’re going after him,” Tucker asked when Jenise came out of her bedroom fully dressed.

  “He misunderstood,” she told her brother.

  He’d come down to Miami under the guise of checking on her, but really Tucker was running away. His confession that he was tired of practicing law came as a shock to Jenise, but she’d listened attentively as he explained that he just wanted to travel for a while, to see where he landed and what type of life he really wanted to live. She’d encouraged him, unlike their parents, because she understood what it felt like to want something and not be able to have it.

  “He could have simply introduced himself,” Tucker continued from the spot where he still lounged on her couch. He’d turned on the television while she was gone and now flicked between the many cable channels.

  “You could have introduced yourself,” she replied grabbing her purse, jacket and keys.

  Tucker laughed. “Nah, it was too much fun watching him get jealous.”

  “He was not jealous,” she said. “He was upset about something.”

  “Yeah, about seeing you in a robe, with a man sitting on your couch,” Tucker continued. “If I were in love with you I would have been jealous too.”

  Jenise was at the door by that point and she turned to look back at her brother. “Savian’s not in love with me,” she told him.

  Tucker laughed again, this time foregoing his words of wisdom and concentrating his energy on flicking those channels. Jenise left him there because it was obvious that he was finished with their conversation. Tucker had always had a very short attention span.

  It was late and the last thing she wanted was to drive to a place she’d never been before. She’d had Savian’s home address in her files so she’d entered that into her GPS. Why she was even going over there, Jenise couldn’t figure out. It was over between them. She’d told him so a few days ago when he’d come to her office, and she’d meant it. Sort of. There was a part of her that wanted to give Savian all the time he needed to see if he could ever return her feelings. Then there was another part, the independent and self-sufficient part of her that—as she’d told Ms. Carolyn—did not need a man to define her, which said she was doing the right thing by walking away. If Savian wanted her, he would do the right thing as well.

  Only Jenise wasn’t totally sure what the right thing was now, especially after seeing how strained and out of control Savian had appeared standing in her living room. Now she was driving to his condo, hoping he was there and not out somewhere driving in the condition he was in. She was worried for his safety and concerned with how he was going to take her coming over to his house unannounced.

  On the flip side, she was pissed that he’d come over to her place without calling or texting first and then had the audacity to—as Tucker had so bluntly put it—get jealous. If he’d waited a few more seconds instead of getting angry and storming out, she would have introduced him to Tucker and none of this would be happening right now.

  She parked on the street because she wasn’t sure of the policy in this tall, fancy building. Besides, it was almost eleven at night and the last thing she wanted to do was get into an argument with some garage attendant over whether or not she belonged here or was invited. She went through the revolving doors and saw the front desk attendant that she probably needed to visit before being allowed upstairs to the apartments. Jenise didn’t feel like that nonsense either, so while the attendant was busily texting or playing a game on his phone, she eased her way down the hall on tiptoe so he wouldn’t be made aware of her entrance. Clearly, since he hadn’t bothered to look up when she’d come through the door, he wasn’t that intent on doing his job tonight.

  The elevator was slow, the bright blue of the lighted numbers ticking off as she rode all the way up to the twenty-eighth floor. Moving off the elevator she found herself taking measured steps, wondering if she had made the right decision. She hadn’t really thought about it once Savian had slammed her door shut, she’d just turned around and went into her room to get dressed. Now that she was here, she had to figure out what she was going to say to him.

  At the door she heard yelling and Jenise was instantly worried. With a fist she banged on the door, calling his name over and over again. When it swung open she was taken off guard and stumbled inside. Savian caught her before she fell flat on her face, asking with every ounce of anger he was apparently still feeling, “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to make sure you were alright,” she said, her flats clicking on the brightly shined black marble floors as she moved further inside the foyer of his condo.

  Savian closed the door and turned to face her. He looked just as he had when he’d been at her place, but the scowl on his face was deeper—if that was even possible—and his hand…

  “What happened to your hand?” she asked, immediately going to him and lifting his hand in hers.

  “Nothing,” he said and attempted to pull away.

  Jenise held tighter. “This isn’t nothing. Your knuckles are bleeding and they’re swelling. What did you do?”

  “I said nothing. You can go now,” he told her before abruptly yanking his hand away.

  Jenise frowned and thought for just a second about leaving. Then she pulled off her jacket and walked past him. “Where’s your kitchen?”

  She kept walking until the narrow foyer gave way to a larger living room. Luckily for her, this place boasted a stunning open co
ncept, so she could see a set of sleek metal and glass stairs, the huge dining room table and just beyond that, the marble-top island of the kitchen. Without asking, she continued through his personal space, which was elegantly decorated from what she could see without too much light. Had he been sitting in the dark?

  There was staggered recessed lighting partially illuminating what appeared to be the path through the house without having someone bump into the furniture. She was certain he had more lights in here, he’d just chosen not to use them at the moment. In the kitchen, she went to the sub-zero stainless steel refrigerator and opened the freezer door. She didn’t see any ice trays. When she closed the door she felt like saying, ‘Duh’, since there was an ice machine right on the side door. Looking around she found paper towels that she grabbed and carried with her back to the refrigerator. Layering a few towels she filled them with ice and then turned to go back out to find Savian.

  He was in the kitchen, leaning against the island.

  “I’m not going to ask what you’re doing since you didn’t bother to answer my first question,” he said, arms folded solemnly over his chest.

  Jenise looked around the room once more, elated when she finally spotted a light switch. She hurriedly moved to turn it on and was grateful for the immediate illumination.

  “First, I’m here because you acted like an ass at my apartment and second, I’m going to put some ice on your hand before it gets so big you won’t be able to hold it up anymore,” she told him.

  “I’m fine,” he said as she approached him.

  “Yes, I’ll just bet you are,” she snapped.

  Standing in front of him she noticed he kept his arms tightly folded against his chest. With a sigh she pulled on his wrist, knowing he’d rather let his arms loose than to have her actions continue to cause physical pain.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said triumphantly as she placed the ice gingerly on his hand. “Now, tell me how this happened.”

  “I don’t need first aid and I’m not telling you what happened,” he said tightly.

  “Fine,” Jenise replied. “Then I’ll just say what I have to say and leave. That was my brother, Tucker, at my apartment. He’s staying the night and has a flight out to the Bahamas in the morning. If you had remained there a moment longer I would have told you that.”

  Savian sighed heavily. “It doesn’t even matter. I don’t know why I came over there in the first place.”

  Jenise nodded. “Right. It doesn’t matter. Look, Savian, just because we’re not seeing each other anymore, doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. If there’s something going on you can tell me.”

  “How can I tell you anything when you’re convinced that I’m not good enough for you?” he asked while frowning down at her.

  Jenise wanted to reach up and touch his forehead, to smooth away the lines of worry that had developed there. She wanted to touch his cheek as he often did hers, offering silent comfort. She did nothing but stare at him.

  “You’re a piece of work,” she told him. “One minute you want to keep your distance. The next, you’re taking me on a whirlwind trip and giving me everything I could ever imagine. You flow hot and cold like you were a human faucet. And you know what, Savian? I’m sick of it!”

  Again, he pulled away from her. “I didn’t ask you to come here.”

  The ice fell to the floor, scattering over Jenise’s feet. She was sick and tired of this bullshit with him!

  “You didn’t and I don’t have to stay here and take this treatment from you,” she said before turning and walking the same way she had before. Only this time, Jenise paused before coming to the foyer. As she stood in the living room she looked to the wall where the pictures were hanging and saw the gaping hole. Had he punched the wall?

  “Savian,” she said his name quietly. She should stay because there was obviously something going on with him.

  No, she couldn’t. Whatever it was, Savian needed to deal with it on his own. It wasn’t her problem. Jenise headed for the door.

  “When I was sixteen years old I was charged with attempted murder and assault.”

  Jenise heard the words and stopped immediately. She did not turn around but she knew he was close.

  “I was too quiet. I thought I was better than them. They hated my clothes, the lunch my mother packed for me, the car that brought me to school each day. I was a Donovan but my money couldn’t keep them from bullying me every chance they could,” Savian continued.

  “I could have told my parents or the teachers or whoever, but I didn’t. I let it go on for most of the school year because they were just saying things. Running off at the mouth because they hadn’t the guts to do anything else. I wondered why all of the girls in school were dying to be with a Donovan—any one of us, considering Parker, Dion and Sean had all gone to the same private school as I did. When I was fourteen, a senior asked me if I was a Donovan. I said yes and she showed me her tits in the stairwell. She said I could suck them right there if I wanted to and then later she’d let me do more. I turned her down and two days later I heard Parker telling Dion she’d made him the same offer, which he’d immediately taken her up on. They were like that, Parker and Dion. They liked the girls and the attention. I didn’t.”

  Jenise’s hands had begun to shake and she quickly clasped them in front of her, still refusing to turn around. His voice sounded so strained and tortured, she couldn’t bear to look at him.

  “I played basketball when I was sixteen, mainly because I was tall, not necessarily skilled and I knew it would look good on my college applications. Even though, I was certain my parents’ money could get me into any school I wanted to attend. They waited for me after the game, all three of them. Jay, Miguel and Stewart.”

  Savian paused then, as if saying the names had caused some type of inner pain. Jenise thought about turning to him, but she refrained. There was more and he needed to get it all out.

  “Stewart pushed me first. He was the smallest of the bunch and Jay said that even he could beat my ass. Miguel thought that was hilarious, so he pushed me next. Jay was the leader of their pack, he gave the orders. When he told Stewart to punch me in the face, Stewart attempted to do what he was told. I caught his wrist before he could land the punch, and I broke it.”

  He continued, “Miguel cursed when Stewart howled in pain. He said I’d be sorry for doing that and he came at me. I bent forward, catching him at the knees and scooped him up into the air, before slamming him down on the floor. I guess Jay had no choice but to show his crew how it should be done. When he walked up to me, I broke his nose. He flailed back, yelling and screaming like I’d sliced off a finger instead, and he fell, hitting his head on the corner of the bleachers. The janitor heard the noise and when he came in to see what was going on he told me to stay right there. I was in cuffs twenty minutes later, charged by the end of the night and released into my parents’ custody.”

  “Savian,” she whispered, spinning around to look at him then.

  He’d been leaning against the wall, his hands at his sides, head tilted back to rest against the wall. “The charges were dropped once I admitted how long they’d been bullying me and my father threatened to charge them in return. I didn’t want him to do that, but he did. That was the first time he told me that sometimes I had to fight fire, with fire.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe when he’d said that because my father was always a non-violent man. But my mother was hysterical about the charges. She wanted to shut the school down by suing them for letting the bullying go on for so long. I didn’t want that either. I just wanted to be left alone. I never wanted the attention of being a Donovan, yet it followed me everywhere I went.”

  “As I grew older, I learned to accept who I was and my place in life. Well, the therapist my mother insisted I visit, taught me that’s what I needed to do to survive. She also taught me about managing my anger.” Savian looked down at his hand and then over to the wall where the hole was. “Guess I’m not d
oing so well in that regard.”

  “You’re doing the best you can,” Jenise said as she moved slowly toward him. “And that’s good enough, Savian. Who and what you are is good enough even without the name, don’t you understand that?”

  He shook his head. “I broke Morelli’s nose too,” he told her. “That night I went to his house, I punched the bastard because he was threatening my family. I would have punched him again if he hadn’t fallen to the floor. In that moment I saw Jay falling and hitting his head all over again. Jay had received seventeen stitches for the gash in his head. What if Morelli’s gash caused his death? Would my parents and their money be able to get me out of that mess? And at this stage in my life, did I have the right to put that type of stress on them? The answer was no, on both counts, so I walked out.”

  “And you were still charged with his murder,” Jenise said feeling a sharp pang in her chest at the words. “I knew from the very beginning that you weren’t a killer, Savian. That’s why I didn’t ask you if you’d seen Morelli. I knew it right here,” she said reaching for his bruised hand and placing it on her chest. “In my heart I’ve always known that you were a good man. A decent and strong man.”

  “I’m a mess,” he said with a frown.

  “You’re human and we all make mistakes,” she insisted.

  He used his other hand to touch her chin. “I’m tired of making them with you.”

  Jenise leaned in to kiss him then. A soft kiss. A healing kiss.

  Savian immediately joined in, moving his hand to cup the back of her neck, the other going around her back to pull her close.

  This kiss was different from any they’d shared because it had meaning. Jenise could feel it pouring from him into her, surrounding them in a warm embrace. Now she knew why she’d really come here, it was for him, for this. There was no walking away, she knew that now. They were two battered souls, two people bound and determined to sacrifice any bit of happiness for the one moment of mistakes in their lives. Savian didn’t think he could be loved, not for real, because since he was a young boy, women had wanted him for his name and his money. Guys had despised him for the same reason. Thus he didn’t want either—friends or girlfriends. It was heartbreaking.