Snowstorm Connection

Chapter Three

The next morning, everyone was awake, but most of them had slept badly. The snow storm had caused the temperature to drop significantly, and the house’s heating system couldn’t keep them warm enough. Nora’s mother had provided fresh towels and soap for the guests, which everyone now handled delicately. They had largely forgotten about the lies these men had told them; what mattered now was that a billionaire had spent the night in their house. However, Nora was the only one who seemed displeased. She didn’t wait around and left the house immediately after breakfast, despite her mother’s insistence for her to stay. The storm had subsided after raging through the night. Alex profusely thanked Nora’s mother, Aunt Melissa, and their cousins. They walked to where their car was parked and were relieved to see that the road maintenance had cleared a path for cars through the ice. They got into the car, turned on the heat, and waited for a few minutes until some of the snow on the car melted off. Donovan kept staring at the shop, but Nora was nowhere to be found. She was probably inside, baking bread and getting ready for the day.

As the driver drove into the street, they soon left Glisson’s Avenue.

“She has a child, the blonde girl with the blue eyes, that’s her child,” Donovan said solemnly.

“What?” Alex asked, trying to look at his friend who was sitting in the passenger seat.

“Nora has a child,” Donovan said.

Alex was stunned, just as surprised as Donovan had been when he first heard the news.

“How did you know?”

“The child called her mum when I stepped outside last night,” Donovan explained briefly.

Alex nodded, and they fell silent.

“I think I remember the young girl now. She was mostly quiet and sat beside Nora. She was absorbed in that Christmas soap opera song; I didn’t hear her say ‘mum.’ If she had done that, I would have known,” Alex said. Donovan didn’t respond; his mind was occupied.

The driver pulled into the estate and passed by huge mansions, all occupied by affluent people. They parked in front of a Victorian-style mansion and got out. Two domestic workers were already waiting for them outside. Alex handed them the key, and the massive door opened. They stepped inside, and the door shut. Although the exterior of the house looked cold, resembling one of those grand mansions in a classic horror movie, the interior was alive. It was adorned with Christmas decorations, elegant furniture, and smelled of delicious delicacies. Alex smiled warmly.

“Bella!” he shouted and headed towards the kitchen. The kitchen was a hive of activity, with around 35 chefs rushing around, carrying spices, cutting meat, and frying food, among other things. In the midst of the chaos, Arabella Hartwell stood, giving instructions to her staff. Every Christmas, she hosted a ball in her mansion’s ballroom; and also hosted a ball every Valentine’s day.

She burst into laughter as soon as she saw Alex, and he swiftly enveloped her in a warm hug.

“And the notorious duo has arrived. Grab an apron and help me with this,” Arabella said, removing her apron.

“Yes, ma’am. I am here to serve you obediently,” Alex said, laughing. Arabella affectionately patted him on the back as she walked toward her brother, who was standing by the kitchen’s door.

“Bella,” he said, smiling. His eyes sparkled as they hugged each other.

“And that’s a once-in-a-lifetime smile,” Arabella said, chuckling. Donovan shrugged, and his signature scowl returned.

“Walk me to the study. Fred is working on a lecture, the opening event for a literature event in Paris next week,” Arabella said as they walked through long corridors.

“You just had a child, Arabella. It doesn’t seem like the best time to be hosting a ball, and Fred shouldn’t be traveling with a newborn,” Donovan said, his teeth gritted with concern.

“I had the baby two weeks ago, and I’m perfectly fine. And you know how much Fred loves his lectures? I can’t stop him. Besides, I have plenty of help here. It’s like a whole village taking care of your niece,” Arabella replied, pulling open the massive study door.

The study had a typical old-fashioned layout with a library model. It was filled with books of all kinds, and the air carried a moist and crispy scent of old and new literature. They walked deeper into the study and finally reached a large desk covered in books. Behind the desk, a man with horn-rimmed glasses was bent over sheets of paper, scribbling away quickly. On his chest, nestled safely in a modern baby carrier, was a baby.

As the man lifted his head to see who had entered, and he smiled.

“Donovan, it’s nice to see you here,” the man, Fred, said gently. He stood, placing his hand on the baby’s head to prevent her from waking up from her peaceful slumber.

“Hello, Fred,” Donovan replied and shook hands with his brother-in-law.

Fred ushered Donovan and Arabella into the study, offering them seats amidst the piles of books. The baby in the carrier cooed softly, seemingly undisturbed by their presence.

“So, how have you been, Donovan?” Fred asked, adjusting his glasses.

Donovan took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I've been... preoccupied, you could say," he said, glancing at Arabella, who gave him an encouraging smile. The three closest people to him were Alex, Arabella, and Fred.

Fred nodded, his expression filled with understanding. "I can imagine. The business, and life generally. Life has its way of throwing curveballs at us, doesn't it?"

Donovan sighed, feeling the weight of his burdens in that moment. "Indeed, it does. And speaking of curveballs, mother met with Mr. Castle again last week. She sent me an early Christmas basket with a gift card in which she wrote about her visit to Mr. Castle and also included Vivienne's private number," Donovan said, standing up. He walked towards a small bar on the left side of the huge desk, took out a bottle of whiskey, and poured some into a glass. He swirled the liquid around, glaring at it, and then gulped it down in one go. He placed the glass back on the bar and returned to the desk, sitting down with crossed legs while the other two adults watched him.

"Have you called her?" Arabella asked, clearing her throat.

"Jesus Christ, Bella. You of all people should know how much I detest her. I tore up mother's card and gave the Christmas hamper to my driver," Donovan replied.

Arabella leaned forward, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Donovan, why don't you tell us who you want? You don't like Vivienne Castle? I know, and I also don't like her. But how are you going to turn down the daughter of the country's vice president? I understand that mother often crosses boundaries and lacks a sense of personal space, but you also have to meet her halfway, show her that you are no longer the playboy people know you to be. You don't have to marry Vivienne, just settle down with one of your multiple partners. Don't you have somebody you love? I want to help you, Donovan. We're family, after all, and we're here to support each other."

Reluctantly, Donovan began to recount the events that had unfolded the previous evening. Fred and Arabella listened intently. "I want her, Bella. I think I have found the one," Donovan said, causing a heavy silence to fill the study.

"Are you sure you're not rushing into things? Have you thought this through properly? You only just met her," Arabella said.

"Not only is she with a child, but she is also a baker. Do you intend to take her to your parents? And what about the attention it will draw to the empire? The media frenzy?" Fred asked.

"Are we really having this talk, Fred? You're an associate professor married to a billionaire fashion mogul who happens to be the daughter of a multi-billionaire, whose mother is also the child of a duke. Really, Frank?" Donovan thundered. Fred blinked and looked away, and an uncomfortable silence enveloped the study. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," Donovan said, standing up. He walked to a huge window and stared out, grateful for the interruption as the child woke up and began to cry. Donovan sighed, finally turning away from the window and looking at the parents as they tried to calm the child. He walked back to them. "I'm sorry," he said.

"It's fine, not like any of it were lies. I am just concerned that there's more pressure on you as the heir of the empire than your sister. That's my only concern, and I'm not trying to be a hypocrite. But if you truly like this girl, why don’t you go back to the Bakery later today, maybe invite her for the ball and see where things go?” Fred asked.

Donovan had omitted some details in his account of what happened; he failed to mention Nora's obvious hatred for him.

"No, I won't do that. It will seem like I am coming on too strong. Besides, what if she doesn't like me for who I am? What if she only falls for my status and wealth?" Donovan asked.

"You should still give it a try. You'll turn thirty-three next month," Free said.

"I know I can't stay like this forever," he thought, Nora's face appearing in his mind.

"What about Alex? Do you know if he's seeing someone?" Arabella asked.

"You know he's more open with you about that topic than me. We hardly discuss it, except for my promiscuity, of course," Donovan replied, and Arabella laughed.

"The Morning Times wrote an article about your ways with women, questioning if this is the beginning of the fall of the heir of Hartwell's Empire. It was boldly written on their front page," Arabella said.

"These papers will write anything to sell. When did this article come out?" Donovan asked.

"Yesterday," Fred replied.

"You read it too? I thought you hated reading these papers and only found joy in literature books," Donovan said, gesturing towards the books on the desk.

"Trust me, these papers are an eyesore. But Bella forced me to read this one. It was quite interesting. Most newspaper writers are boring and mundane, almost like AI-generated content. But this was different. The way the writer used words, it was almost sensual as they described your sins of fornication. I still have the paper with me," Fred said, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a newspaper. He tossed it towards Donovan, who quickly picked it up. His picture with the daughter of the Minister of Defence, Anastasia Kensington, was pasted on the front page. Donovan skimmed the content; the writing was indeed good, but he was displeased.

"This is bad. I only slept with her twice," Donovan said, rubbing his temple.

"You slept with her, that's the point. Don't worry, your PR team will solve the problem. I just mentioned it so you can see the extent of this problem," Arabella said.

The conversation continued, stretching into the early hours of the morning. Suddenly, a loud crash shattered the tranquility of the study, jolting them all to attention. Startled, Donovan stood up, his eyes scanning the room for the source of the disturbance.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Arabella and Fred exchanged worried glances. Without hesitation, Donovan moved towards the source of the noise. It came from the hallway outside the study.

As he stepped into the dimly lit corridor, a dark figure emerged from the shadows, silhouetted against the faint light. Donovan's breath caught in his throat as he recognized the person.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Donovan asked forcefully.

"Alex told me you were in the study, so I asked one of the chefs to show me the way. I brought you coffee because I heard you had an exhausting day yesterday because of the storm. The coffee pot fell when I was trying to open the door. I should have just asked the chef to help me," she explained.

Donovan cursed under his breath. Standing in front of him was Vivienne Castle.

"I'm sorry, mother told me to add her to my ball's guest list. I sent her the invitation last night, and I was about to tell you when we heard the noise. I'm sorry," Arabella whispered into Donovan's ear. She was as tall as him.

In frustration, Donovan cursed and stormed away.