Chapter232 – I like it wet…
Seeing Atticus finally turn and leave, Clarissa exhaled in relief.
They’d always gotten along well—harmoniously, even—but that had been as friends, as siblings. As lovers, it was something else entirely. Their relationship magnified every fault line, every buried tension.
A child would only make those cracks worse. The thought alone was enough to knot her stomach.
She hadn’t dared say it outright, not with him in that state. So she swallowed the truth and sighed into the silence of the room.
.....
That night, she lay in bed, tossing, her mind cycling endlessly through possible names for the female lead in her project. None felt right. None clicked.
Her phone suddenly buzzed against the nightstand.
Clarissa frowned. The number was unfamiliar, but she answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Clarissa, how *dare* you block me!”
Her body stiffened. Dorian’s furious voice sliced through the speaker.
Unbelievable. The man was like a plague—persistent, suffocating.
Her lips pressed tight. “Dorian, you’ve gone too far.”
“Me? Me?” His voice thundered. “You’re the one crossing the line again and again. Don’t think I won’t touch you, Clarissa. Don’t think I can’t.”
Her anger spiked, matching his roar with her own. “Then come on! Kill me, isn’t that what you’re best at? What are you, some ghost that won’t stay buried? Dorian, fuck you!”
Her curses flew, sharp and unrelenting. She spat venom until her throat was raw—then realized there was only silence on the other end.
“What? Nothing left to say? Speak!”
The quiet stretched until it curdled. Finally, his voice returned.
“Clarissa… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. You blocked me for no reason, and I lost control. But have you thought about our families? About my mother? About your parents and my grandfather? You ignoring me like this… do you know how much it hurts them?”
A flicker of hesitation passed through Clarissa’s chest—but she smothered it just as quickly.
Her voice stayed cold. “Dorian, I’ve said everything there is to say. Why can’t you just live your perfect life with Lyra? Why do you insist on wrecking mine? What exactly did I ever do to you?”
Her fury seeped through every word. Even across a phone line, the disgust in her tone was unmistakable.
On the other side, Dorian’s hand clenched against the armrest, knuckles popping, wood creaking under the strain.
He inhaled deeply, as though forcing himself to soften. “I know. That night in the parking lot—I scared you. I only did it because I care about you, Clarissa. Because of Atticus—”
“Don’t you dare mention him!” she snapped, cutting him off. “Say one bad word about Atticus, and I’ll block this number too.”
His face darkened, though his voice smoothed out into a falsely calm tone. “Fine. I won’t mention him again.”
Not until I have the proof that will make you leave him on your own.
“I called because I heard you’re scrambling for actresses. If you need anyone, I can send them to you.”
Clarissa opened her mouth to refuse—but a particular face suddenly crossed her mind. Her heart jolted. Still, she pressed her lips together and shook her head. “No need. Emperor’s Heaven is too high and mighty. My little company couldn’t possibly handle one of your people.”
“Is this about Xerxes?” Dorian’s laugh was low, smug. “I’ve already had him banned. Don’t waste your anger on him.”
Clarissa froze. Shock ran through her. Of course. Ruthless as always.
He hadn’t fired the man outright. No—he’d cut him off from resources entirely. A five-year freeze, buried alive while still under contract. If the actor endured it, he’d emerge ruined, his best years wasted. If he tried to leave early, the penalty fee would crush him. Either way, destroyed.
“I don’t care about him,” she said stiffly. “That’s long over.”
“I know,” Dorian murmured, satisfaction curling in his voice. “No need to let insects upset you. I’ll always take care of you.”
Clarissa’s skin crawled. Goosebumps prickled up her arms.
When Atticus whispered sweet things, her heart melted, warmth blooming inside her.
But with Dorian… every word made her stomach turn.
“Nothing, I’m hanging up.”
“Clarissa! Wait.”
Her patience snapped. “What the hell do you want?”
“Clarissa, who are you yelling at?”
The deep voice came from right beside her. Before she could answer, Atticus pulled her firmly into his arms. The clean, masculine scent of shower gel clung to him, dampened by the steam of his recent bath, and her heartbeat jumped against her will.
She blinked, suddenly aware that he was wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. Droplets traced lazy paths over his chest, sliding over carved abs and disappearing into terrycloth.
For a split second she forgot how to breathe. Fresh from the shower, he was devastating—dangerously alluring.
Atticus noticed her gaze linger, and a slow, satisfied smile curved his lips. He bent toward her, intent on tasting the redness of her mouth.
She caught his breath against her skin, warm and tinged with medicine, temptation itself—until she pressed a hand to his lips at the last moment. “Don’t…”
“What’s wrong?” he murmured.
Flustered, she shoved lightly at his chest. “Dry off first. You’re soaking the blanket.”
His eyes flicked to her phone, still connected to the call. A wicked glint sparked. He caught her hand, brought her fingers to his mouth, and kissed them slowly. “Isn’t it better when it’s wet? I like it wet…”
Her cheeks went scarlet as the meaning sank in. “You… you bastard!” She smacked him on the arm before snatching up the phone. “Dorian.”
“Clarissa? Was that Atticus just now?”
“Does it matter to you?” she snapped. “I’ve said all I need to say. I don’t want your compensation.”
“Clarissa, do you really hate me this much?”
She nearly laughed. His self-importance was unbearable.
But before she could deliver the killing blow, Atticus wrapped an arm around her waist, tugged her tight against his chest, and plucked the phone from her hand.
“Atticus!” she gasped.
“Be good,” he said smoothly, “don’t move.”
“Clarissa? Clarissa?”
Dorian’s voice cut through the speaker. Atticus lifted the phone to his ear, smiling faintly. “Good evening, Mr. Dorian.”
“Atticus!” The other man’s snarl was instant, seething with hatred. Atticus’ voice, however, was velvet and calm. “I heard you wanted to compensate my Clarissa. Ah… this must be about Xerxes.”
“I don’t want to hear your voice,” Dorian spat. “Put Clarissa on the line.”
“Clarissa’s resting. If you have something to say, you can say it to me.”
In Atticus’ arms, Clarissa stopped struggling. She understood what he was doing—and let him.
On the other end, Dorian’s fury sharpened into a knife’s edge. “Atticus. You’ve schemed to drive a wedge between me and Clarissa again and again. I swear I’ll never let you go.”
Atticus chuckled low. “You’ve got it wrong. Clarissa doesn’t dislike you because of me—she dislikes you because you’re insufferable. Isn’t that right, Clarissa?”
He tipped his head down, eyes gleaming at her.
Clarissa bit back a laugh at his shameless tongue, but she played along. Leaning closer to the phone, she deliberately raised her voice. “Of course. That narcissist could never compare to my Atticus.”
Atticus could be demanding at times, but he always knew how to press just hard enough—never so far that Clarissa truly pushed him away.
Her words from earlier had pleased him deeply, and a satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “Good girl, Clarissa. Well said.”
Dorian, however, was seething. His jaw clenched, his hand gripping the armrest until veins stood out like ropes beneath his skin.
Sensing the moment had ripened, Atticus added smoothly, “Mr. Dorian, Clarissa’s searching for an actress. I heard you’ve got a newcomer named Whitney. Why not let her join Clarissa’s project?”
Clarissa blinked, startled, but Atticus simply smiled and patted her back in reassurance. She understood his intent at once.
“Whitney?” Dorian frowned. He had never even heard the name. His tone sharpened. “Atticus, don’t meddle in things you don’t understand. A rookie isn’t worthy of Clarissa. I’ll send Sienna.”
“No! I don’t want Sienna.”
Clarissa cut him off before Atticus could reply.
Atticus’ mouth curved with quiet triumph. “Did you hear that, Mr. Dorian? You claim you grew up with Clarissa, yet you don’t even know her tastes. Do you even know what she likes?”
The silence on the other end was deafening. Dorian had no answer.
Atticus pressed harder, voice velvet over steel. “You don’t even understand the basics. Don’t lump Clarissa in with the women you’ve toyed with before. Your so-called concern only drags her down. You’re the one who doesn’t understand her at all.”
Dorian’s face drained of color. Each word cut like a blade. He drew a shaky breath and finally muttered, “Fine. Whitney, then. I’ll send her tomorrow.”
“Much appreciated, Mr. Dorian.”
With that, Atticus ended the call.
Clarissa had been staring at him the whole time, her eyes softened by something she couldn’t quite name. Atticus met her gaze, a knowing smile curving his lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing.” She slid her arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest.
Though she said nothing, he felt the quickened beat of her heart against his skin. A shadow flickered briefly in his eyes, gone before she could notice, as his grip around her waist tightened possessively.
This woman was already his—body and soul. Still, to be absolutely certain, there was one more step he needed to take.
The two of them stayed entwined for a long time before Clarissa finally whispered, “Dorian just called. Aren’t you angry?”
“I am,” Atticus admitted easily. “But my Clarissa is so beautiful—of course men covet you. Next time he dares bother you, let me deal with it, hm?”
Her heart softened at his words. She nodded without hesitation. “Yeah… but don’t get jealous anymore.”
“Alright. I promise.”
It was his mistake before, letting her see his temper. From now on, he would handle such matters quietly—cleanly—without her ever knowing.
Clarissa, oblivious to the darker edge beneath his vow, brightened instantly. She yawned softly.
“It’s late. Let’s sleep.”
She reached for the blanket to pull it over them both, but before she could, Atticus rolled over and pinned her beneath him. His gaze burned into hers. “Late? It’s still early. Go back to sleep later.”
Her face flushed crimson. She knew exactly what he wanted. His body pressed her down, his kisses growing hotter, more insistent…
This time she didn’t resist. After a brief tension, she melted beneath him, letting him take her completely.
Her body slackened in his arms, pliant, inviting. Just as Atticus lifted her soft legs higher against his waist, a sharp knock came at the door.
“Miss Clarissa, are you asleep? Someone’s here to see you and Atticus. They said it’s urgent.”
Oriana’s voice cut through, and Atticus’ expression darkened instantly. That damned girl again.