When She Spread Her Wings

II

CLIO

IT WAS ALL IN THE EYES. One’s words often don’t match the look in their eyes, and I had learned to never trust talk. Truth dances in the tiny spark of the pupils. Dilated pupils when one gets excited, looking anywhere but into your eyes when one lies. It’s the easiest way to play the game of good business. Eyes helped me to get to the top, helped me to where I was now.

Jasper Davenport’s ocean eyes spoke volumes. The voice of those peepers was louder than the ‘I’m not sure about that. . .’ slipping out of those plumped lips. And before the handsome young man had realized it, our eye contact had closed off a perfect deal that offered me two million dollars. Never take a New York’s woman for granted.

I charmingly downed the glass of red wine before politely sending a smile his way. “It was a pleasure meeting you, mister Davenport.”

            “Oh, Clio,” he sighed, not taking his eyes off me, especially when I held the glass against my bottom lip, forcing it to pout a little, “how many times do I have to tell you that I want you to call me Jasper.”

            “I’m sorry, Jasper. It’s how my mother raised me.” I put the glass back on the table and leaned to the right to grab my rose gold Hermes bag off the luxurious restaurant’s shiny, white, marble floor.

            “Your mother’s done a bloody good job.”

            “It was amazing doing business with you,” his curious eyes followed every movement I performed as I got out of the chair, and I just smiled at him like a queen would do, “and I think I’ve fallen a bit in love with your accent.”

            A modest chuckle escaped his lips. “Thank you. Can I, perhaps, offer you a ride home?”

You try too hard, sweetheart, I thought. Did he really think I came here with a taxi? I was a perfectly advanced driver, even in England. I tried to not take any offense – he most likely didn’t try to insult me. I fetched the keys of my Lamborghini out of my bag and flaunted with it. “A woman can drive.”

His thick eyebrows raised in impressment. “I wish I’d taken a taxi now.”

            “What do you drive then?” I asked as we made our way out of the restaurant. The clicking of my red heels gave away my location, but I had always liked the sound. It made me feel feminine, yet incredibly powerful. Oh, the harm I could do with those needles on my feet.

            “Ferrari F60 America,” he said, “just for you.”

I shook my head at the flirt walking beside me and waved at him as our ways separated. Once I was in my car, I couldn’t hold my laughter anymore. Jasper Davenport had made the most foolish decision ever, only because he was too focused on the bit of cleavage my satin, crème dress exposed. Men were fools, and that’s exactly why Neely Inc. with me, Clio Neely operating as CEO, was at the top of the innovative technology business.

This lucre created the perfect opportunity to loudly sing along with my favorite song Bad Girls by M.I.A. Drumming onto the steering wheel, I drove down the dark and abandoned streets of London city. The further I drove into the night, the less illuminated the roads became. Not being able to see anything was my biggest nightmare – I’d have no control in such a situation. Control was what led to power, and power led to what I lived for.

All of the sudden, I saw a man having a hard time walking on the other side of the road. As I neared him, I realized he must’ve been homeless due to his appearance – long, dark hair, old, baggy and dirty looking clothes. Without really thinking about it, I started driving slower. A voice inside of my head screamed that I had to stop and take him to wherever he was headed, but my sanity calmly told me to just keep driving. It most likely was his own stupid fault to become homeless. I had put all this work into growing a successful career and anyone could do that. He had given up, and I didn’t like quitters – quitters had a thin skin, the exact opposite of what I expected from my employees.

Then his body collapsed. They’ll drive him over, not a soul will see him lying there on this dark road, one half of me thought. But he’s probably drunk, which is his own fault, and he is absolutely not your problem, the other half thought, and where even would you take him? What if he wakes up in your car and tries to rob you? My thoughts kept fighting as I slowly got out of my car and cautiously walked towards him. The dark-haired man seemed to be my age, in his early twenties, face bleeding and blood stains all over his clothing. He’d been beaten up severely. He’ll survive! No, you need to help him. A frustrated groan escaped my lips.

            “Sir,” I grabbed his wrist, a silver bracelet connecting to the tips of my fingers. Eros was written into the little plate in the middle of the bracelet. Was that his name, Eros? Luckily, his heart was still beating. The young man had just passed out.

I removed the hair from his face to examine the wounds. It was then when I realized my hands were shaking. Just take him to your car. Even though he was abused, the man still looked quite. . . handsome. It was his face structure, the lips. He reminded me of Jasper Davenport, the most beautiful man I had ever done business with. And maybe also the most stupid one.

A decision was made. I wrapped my arms underneath his armpits and started carrying him to my car, his lower body scuffing against the smooth, empty road. My legs were wobbly, mostly because of the high heels I was wearing. But I had to stay strong. Just a little further . . .

I let go of the body and started laughing quietly. “Great, now it looks like I’m abducting a hobo.”

Image what the press would’ve published about this. After mentally preparing for getting Eros in my car, I whipped him right into it. Not as smooth as I had expected, but at least he was in.

            “You definitely need to work on your arms, Clio,” I panted to myself as I fastened his seatbelt.

I hopped into the Lamborghini and started driving. As the paranoid woman I was, I kept turning my head to him, but his eyes remained closed. “I’m going to take you to the hospital, don’t you dare wake up and strangle me.”

            “Clio?”

I looked up from my phone and caught two ocean blue eyes. What the hell was Jasper Davenport doing in the hospital’s waiting room at midnight? Actually, what the hell was I doing in the hospital’s waiting room at midnight?

            “What are you doing here?” He sounded a little out of breath, his feet pointing away from me, most likely because he was in a hurry.

Oh, funny you ask. I was casually kidnapping a hobo from the road, but don’t get any weird ideas, I brought him to the hospital because he had fainted. What brought you here, Jasper?

            “I’m – what are you doing here, Jasper?” I asked.

            “My little brother,” he sighed, “probably beaten up again. This isn’t the first time.”

            “Your brother?”

            “Yes, Eros, he’s . . . he’s, well, whatever. I have to go. Are you alright, though?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m completely fine. Good luck.”

Jasper disappeared behind the corner which was my que to classily stand up and make my way back to my car, back to my apartment. But what my mind kept eating was the thought of having to see Eros again. Alive and well. Not that I really cared, though.