All Chapters of Corrupt Temptation: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

SLOAN. When Victor finally left the study, the click of the door reverberated through the quiet leaving an almost palpable chill in its wake. I stood by the bookcase my hand still on the spine of a heavy book about ancient diplomacy. This was ironic because only a few minutes before there had been no such book in the room. My mind was filled with a discordant symphony of Victors words which were piercing and tinged with his typical brand of cynical pragmatism. My choices are final and legally binding. I had spoken with the utmost authority that was expected of me and with conviction. I also thought it was true. Every ounce of my being told me that I was choosing the only sensible course of action for Ivy and the Order. In my own mind however there was a persistent echo a nagging whisper that sounded suspiciously like doubt. I slowly exhaled while running a hand through my hair. The subtle aroma of Victors pricey cigar permeated the air serving as a constant reminder of his unwan

IVY.My hands were shaking so much that I was having trouble holding the phone. Willa. It was Willa. I had no doubt about it. But then… nothing. Only that loud click. A frantic drum solo echoed through the silent mansion as my heart pounded against my ribs. “No no no.” I whispered using hardly more than a whisper. I needed to return the call. It must have been a fluke or a poor connection. I tapped her number once more after taking a long ragged breath. Again and again. Once more. Every time I pressed my thumb against the screen a tiny prayer and a fervent request were sent into the digital ether. I watched the little spinning circle on my phone willing it to connect to show me a ringing tone anything but the dread I felt coiling in my gut. Each attempt was met with the same cold automated voice: “The number you have dialed is not reachable.” In sharp contrast to the earthquake occurring inside of me the voice was that of a woman serene and emotionless. With each repetition a pain

IVY. I was almost startled out of my skin by the calm funny voice that cut through my self-pity. My head jerked up and my breath caught my tear-streaked face, likely looking like a snotty startled raccoon. Ivette was standing there seemingly emerging from the shadows themselves. She was as usual a vision in an almost comical Goth-chic ensemble: long raven hair black as a night without the moon fell around her framing a face with precise black mascara and lipstick that somehow managed to be dramatic without being clownish. She looked like she was always prepared for a high-end Halloween party thanks to her form-fitting black top black pants and sturdy black boots. For a moment I nearly snorted at the ridiculousness of her appearance in comparison to my extreme suffering. Nearly. I desperately used the back of my hand to swipe at my nose and eyes in an attempt to regain some sense of decorum. I muttered my voice cracking treacherously “I… I'm fine” Ivette approached slowly and pu

IVY. The quiet hum of our recent conversation was so different from the muffled silence of the hallway as the door to Ivette's room clicked softly shut behind me. My hands still trembled a little from the intense emotion that had tormented me earlier but it was now accompanied by an odd sense of calm. Ivette's shocking disclosures combined with Earl Grey's presence had performed an odd enchantment. Sincerely I had said “Thank you Ivette” before I left. “I feel a lot better now.”All she had done was give that low sly smile. “Anytime Miss Ivy.A little truth can sometimes be more powerful than any medication.”I never thought Ivette, who was a silent seemingly untouchable shadow, could be so. . . chatty or really perceptive. It was similar to finding a secret library concealed behind a grim gothic façade. The soft carpet underfoot felt more like a cushion than a heavy burden as I walked slowly back to my own room. The jumbled mess of pain and confusion that had been my thoughts was

IVY.The frantic pounding of my heart stood in sharp contrast to the quiet of my office. The gentle click was the last punctuation mark on the intense moment I had just shared with Ivy as the door had just barely closed behind me. With the rich mahogany cool beneath my fingers I made my way to my wet bar and filled a tumbler with a generous amount of amber liquid. Even the smell of aged whiskey which permeated the air was insufficient to mask her face. I could still hear what she said. “Thats much more logical than you just being a cold-hearted playboy.” She understood. She saw the fortress as a construction rather than a natural state. a self-imposed prison designed to keep others out. That crafty enraged woman Ivette had a way of tearing down my well-constructed barriers without my knowledge. The whiskeys burn provided a pleasant diversion from the roiling in my stomach as I took a long sip. She was harmed by me. I couldn’t get out of my head the image of her heartbroken face in