Chapter217 – My man is the best
“Why are you so funny?” she asked, her eyes steady on him. “What do you gain from tearing us apart? Or is it regret? Do you no longer love Lyra? Have you fallen in love with me instead?”
Her words landed like a blow. Dorian froze, his lips parting, his throat working, but no sound came out.
Clarissa’s lips curved again. “Your silence is all the answer I need. But the Clarissa standing before you now is not the Clarissa you once knew. I love Atticus.”
“Shut up! Don’t say it!” Dorian’s roar ripped through the air, his eyes wild, his grip on her arms turning brutal.
But Clarissa didn’t flinch. “I love him. I love him deeply. I want to be with him forever. And when he’s of age, I’ll marry him…”
“Clarissa!” Dorian’s voice was a guttural snarl, his fingers digging painfully into her arms. “Why are you humiliating yourself like this? A bastard like Atticus—filthy, unworthy—is not fit to touch you! I—”
His gaze dropped to her lips—soft, red, intoxicating. How had he once thought her vulgar? She was radiant, untouchable, the most beautiful blossom in the world.
A dangerous gleam lit his eyes. He leaned down, desperate, reckless, to capture her mouth with his.
Pinned in his grip, her breath caught in her throat. As his face drew closer, panic surged, and she turned her head sharply. His lips grazed her cheek instead of her mouth.
“Clarissa…” he breathed, voice rough with need.
Her patience snapped. With the self-defense moves Phoenix had drilled into her, she twisted free, lifted her hand, and struck him with all her strength.
The crack of the slap echoed through the garage. Her palm stung, numb from the force.
“You’re shameless,” she spat, her voice trembling with fury. “You disgust me.”
Turning on her heel, she walked away.
Dorian touched the burning welt on his cheek, his expression black as night. His voice was low, poisonous. “You’ll regret this.”
Clarissa paused only long enough to throw her words over her shoulder. “Be good to Lyra. Don’t make me despise you even more.”
Dorian watched Clarissa leave, her back vanishing from sight, and his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles cracked.
His cheek still burned. No woman had ever humiliated him like this.
Seething, he stormed back into his office, went straight to the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a heavy glass of wine.
The door clicked open. His secretary entered, hesitating when he saw Dorian hunched by the cabinet, drink in hand. A flicker of unease passed over his face, but he forced his tone steady.
“Mr. Dorian, Miss Sienna is here. She says she needs to speak with you—”
“Get out.”
The secretary froze. “But she said it was important—”
“I told you to get out! Do you not understand me?”
Dorian hurled the glass across the room. It exploded against the wall, shards raining down. The man flinched and ducked instinctively, eyes wide with terror.
Before he could speak again, the sharp tap of heels sounded in the hall, followed by a silken voice.
“Mr. Dorian, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”
Dorian lifted his bleary eyes, and there she was—Sienna. The company’s prized star. Her lips caught his gaze, crimson and glossy, too much like Clarissa’s. With that red lipstick, they blossomed before his eyes like a forbidden flower.
A fever surged through him. In a sudden motion, he reached out, caught her slender waist, and yanked her against him. His voice was low, hoarse.
“Clarissa…”
Sienna’s eyes flashed with triumph. She looped her arms around his neck, her lips parting in a practiced pout. “Mr. Dorian…”
His breathing quickened, ragged, the alcohol fanning the heat inside him. He didn’t think—he leaned down and crushed his mouth to hers.
Sienna melted instantly, kissing him back with greedy delight.
The office door burst open.
“Dorian, tonight—”
Lyra’s voice cut off. Her eyes widened, brimming, then spilled over. With a strangled sob, she fled, heels clattering down the hall.
The sound ripped through Dorian’s haze. His eyes snapped open, reality crashing back. He looked down at Sienna in his arms, his expression darkening with something ugly.
The next moment he shoved her violently away.
“Who told you to come in here without permission!”
“Ah!” Sienna hit the floor, stunned. She lifted her eyes to him, pitiful, her voice trembling, sticky-sweet. “Mr. Dorian…”
“Get out! Get out! No one enters this office without my permission!”
His roar filled the room. Sienna scrambled to her feet, stumbling out.
Clarissa, elsewhere, stood over the sink in the women’s bathroom, water rushing as she splashed her face again and again.
She scrubbed until her skin burned, until every trace of makeup dissolved beneath her fingers. Even then she felt unclean, the memory of Dorian’s grasp making her shiver with revulsion. Goosebumps prickled across her body.
Never had she felt so violated—so utterly disgusted.
With nothing but a compact of powder and lipstick in her bag, she gave up on repairing her face. She swiped on sunscreen instead, leaving herself barefaced.
When she stepped out, Oriana spotted her immediately, brows furrowing.
“Miss Clarissa? You… you don’t have makeup on. Were you in such a rush today?”
Clarissa forced a smile. “Yes. Something delayed me.”
Oriana’s gaze darted around, searching. No sign of Atticus. Her eyes brightened with mischief. “Did you fight with your boyfriend?”
Clarissa shook her head. “No. He’s busy. Are you disappointed you didn’t see him?”
“Hey, don’t be jealous,” Oriana shot back, grinning. “I admit it, I’m disappointed. A guy that handsome? Of course I want to see him more than once. And I’m not the only one—everyone here says the same.”
Clarissa chuckled softly. “I know he’s good-looking. But that’s not all. He’s smart, quick to learn, capable at everything he does… and most importantly, he’s kind to me. Attentive. Considerate. In short…”
Her lips curled, a dreamy smile tugging at her mouth. “In short, my man is the best.”
Oriana groaned dramatically, hugging herself. “Ugh! The sour smell of love—it’s killing me!”
She hadn’t expected Clarissa, always so composed, to sound like such a lovestruck girl.
Clarissa smiled faintly. “Enough chit-chat. Time to get to work.”
Oriana blinked, snapped out of her daze, and hurriedly handed the form to the staff.
Clarissa skimmed the progress report, looking somewhat satisfied. “How’s Xerxes behaving lately?”
“Still a handful. He racks up the most NGs, and his attitude is… defiant,” Oriana muttered, exasperated.
She hesitated, then blurted out, “Miss Clarissa, if it really comes down to it, just replace him. We don’t absolutely need him.”
Xerxes was arrogant, annoying, and difficult to handle—but he was also the male lead. And this show was going to be a massive hit.
She thought of the future she remembered: Xerxes would later become one of the brightest stars in the industry, sweeping award after award. Replacing him now might derail everything. If the series flopped, all her effort would be wasted.
After a pause, she said calmly, “Let’s leave it as it is for now. Push the schedule forward. If he crosses the line, tell me—I’ll handle him personally.”
“Alright,” Oriana murmured, clearly unconvinced but obedient.
The rest of the morning flew by. Clarissa had business to attend to at her own company, so she left Oriana behind to supervise and returned to her office for paperwork.
By the time she headed to the garage for her car, a familiar voice drifted over.
“Miss Sienna, wait a moment…”
Lyra.
Clarissa slowed instinctively, listening.
Sienna’s voice answered, smooth and mocking. “What is it? Are you alright?”
Lyra stood there with tears brimming in her eyes. “Why are you setting me up?”
“Setting you up?” Sienna laughed coldly. The tall woman towered over Lyra, her gaze full of disdain. “What makes you think it was me?”
“You had your assistant switch the documents I prepared. That mistake nearly ruined me—”
“Do you have proof?” Sienna cut in, arching a brow. “Go ahead. Expose me. Let’s see who believes you.”
“You—!” Lyra’s face flushed with anger. She clenched her fists, trembling, but forced herself to breathe. “You framed me, fine. But you and Dorian in the office just now—”
Sienna smirked, venom dripping from her voice. “A man and a woman alone together. What do you think happens?”
Her tone turned sharper, cutting deeper. “Do you even realize what you are? You don’t deserve this position. Stop dragging Mr. Dorian down with your worthlessness. That fake Clarissa is useless, but me? I’m different.”
Lyra’s tears spilled over, her heart shredding with every word. She bit her lip hard, unable to muster a defense.
With a flick of her wrist, Sienna shoved her aside. “Move.”
Lyra stumbled back and crashed onto the floor, the documents scattering across the concrete.
Sienna didn’t bother to look back. She strutted off, heels clattering like gunfire.
Lyra knelt in the mess, sobbing, gathering her papers with shaking hands.
Then a pair of pale, slender hands appeared in front of her, passing her the scattered documents.
Startled, Lyra looked up—into Clarissa’s face.
“You…”
Clarissa bent down, scooped up the rest, and held them out. “Stand up first.”
Lyra stared at the offered hand, hesitated, then took it. She rose to her feet, whispering, “Thank you… thank you…” barely louder than a mosquito.
“You’re welcome.” Clarissa’s voice was steady, almost indifferent. “I’ll be going.”
She turned, but Lyra blurted out, “Wait! Why are you helping me? Don’t you… hate me?”
“Hate?” Clarissa turned back, brows lifting. “Why should I hate you?”
“Because… I stole Dorian.”
Clarissa gave a short laugh. “You misunderstood. I don’t hate you—but I don’t like you either. I only helped you because my parents asked me to keep things civil. Don’t flatter yourself by thinking I’m still hung up on the past.”
Lyra bit her lip, eyes wide. “So… you don’t still love Dorian?”
Clarissa smiled—cool, radiant. “Believe me or don’t, but I don’t love him. Not anymore. I feel nothing for him now. I already have someone I love deeply, and I’m happy. If you don’t believe me, time will prove it. And I hope, for both our sakes, we can live peacefully. My parents want that.”
She didn’t say the rest: that her feelings toward Dorian weren’t indifference, but revulsion. She hated him more than she could ever hate Lyra.
Without waiting for a reply, Clarissa turned and walked away, her graceful figure disappearing around the corner.
Lyra stood rooted to the spot, staring after her in a daze.
For a strange, fleeting moment, she thought Clarissa was breathtaking—free, untouchable, her presence glowing with a confidence and charm Lyra could never imitate.
Maybe Clarissa really wasn’t lying. Maybe she truly was happy.
Lyra glanced down at herself, the memory of the office flashing in her mind. Her eyes filled with shame and self-loathing.
She was useless. Compared to Clarissa, she really was nothing.
But what could she do? How could she hold on to Dorian?
Even without Clarissa, women like Sienna would always circle him.