Desire a Donovan. A.C. ArthurЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Prologue
Miami: ten years ago…
“Give me a reason why I should stay, Dion.” She looked into his eyes, which reflected a serious, intense gaze that furrowed his brow slightly.
Lyra knew that look well, had stared into those eyes more times then she could count. But today was different. She was different, and their circumstances were undeniably different. What had transpired between them after the prom a month ago had changed everything. It had been an ordinary Saturday night—indigo sky, no stars and a warm summer-night breeze. She was talking to her best friend in the entire world after one of the worst nights of her life.
But just like the shifting tides along the stretch of beach behind what locals called the Donovan Big House, Lyra’s and Dion’s lives would forever be changed from that moment on. If Lyra were inclined toward clichés, she would say that now was her moment of truth. Since she prided herself on being a realist, she decided it was her day of reckoning instead. Dion Donovan did not love her. At least not in the way she desperately wanted him to. And that, for Lyra, was a huge problem.
“You should do what’s best for you, Lyra. I’ve always told you that,” he’d said.
She sighed, gave a little chuckle because his words weren’t totally unexpected.
“Is that your way of telling me to go?” she’d said.
The clench of his jaw was the only telltale sign that this wasn’t as easy for him as Lyra thought.
“I’m telling you that it’s time you start thinking of yourself, taking care of you and what’s important to you. Photography is important, it’s all you’ve been doing and talking about since I’ve known you,” he’d said.
There was a breeze that morning as they stood on the balcony of the mansion, where Lyra had enjoyed growing up the past ten years. It was a sprawling estate in south Miami that boasted all the luxury and opulence of this branch of the Donovan family tree, who were making their mark in the entertainment industry. Although they were close, the West Coast Donovans were into oil and casinos.
“I can study photography anywhere” was Lyra’s response. She grimaced inside at the thought of how needy it sounded.
“I want you to have the best, you know that. The best schools… .” He cleared his throat. “The best life.”
Lifting her head she met his gaze once more. She looked him in the eye, and yet he was brushing her feelings away. Her heart would break but she would survive, because she didn’t know how to do anything else.
“Then tell me to go.”
He extended his arm as her heart hammered in her chest. Dion gently traced his fingertips along her jawline, hesitating slightly as he approached her lips. Of course her lips parted. She wanted his kiss again, had wanted it with a desperate hunger since that night. But he wouldn’t give it to her. She knew that as well as she knew that in an hour she’d be on a plane to Los Angeles—alone.
“Go,” he said finally. “Go and be happy.”
Lyra had no idea whether it was fury or the onrushing pangs of hurt that overwhelmed her, but she gave him a curt nod and turned her back to him and rushed back into the house. All she knew was that she was going to take his advice. She was going to leave Miami and make a life for herself—on her own terms—and be happy. Without the man she loved.
Chapter 1
Family dinners at the Big House were usually entertaining. Tonight, however, Dion Donovan knew this one would be even more so. He knew the announcement that his mother, Janean, was going to make would be delivered with all the formality and fanfare she possessed. He hadn’t liked it when he’d heard the news earlier in the week and he disliked it even more now.
Entering through the large white double doors, Dion inhaled deeply and immediately felt at home. It made perfect sense, considering he’d grown up in the lavish Key Biscayne estate with his family.
Dinner at his parents’ house was a monthly affair, a usually uneventful evening with his younger brother and sister that kept his parents, Janean and Bruce Donovan, from focusing on the fact that he was still happily single. This afternoon would be different. It wasn’t just a normal family dinner. All the Miami Donovans were invited, including his uncle Reginald and aunt Carolyn and their three children. It always took place once a month on a Sunday afternoon, after everyone had returned from church. There was plenty of food and laughter and just plain family fun. Any other Sunday afternoon, Dion might have looked forward to the gathering. Today, he simply hoped the familial conversation would hide what was truly on his mind.
“Hey, man, expected to see you earlier,” said Sean Donovan. Dion’s younger brother by three years greeted him in the foyer, no doubt having been booted out of the kitchen by their mother for sneaking a taste of the food.
Dion shook his brother’s hand. “I had a few things to go over for tomorrow’s meeting,” he said. “I’ll be tied up in the morning, so I wanted to make sure I had time to review everything I want to discuss.”
Sean nodded. “We’re meeting at one o’clock in your office, correct?”
“Correct.”
Dion was the editor in chief of Infinity Magazine, a quickly growing publication that focused on up-and-coming African-American businesses, entertainers and the movers and shakers in the black community. Bruce Donovan, along with his brother Reginald owned the DNT Network, a cable television company, which in addition to launching Infinity Magazine also owned Donovan Management Company, a literary, sports and talent agency that handled more than a hundred clients.
The Donovans in Las Vegas—Everette and Henry—were in the oil business and had also founded an international charity. Thus far, Dion Donovan’s family in Miami had focused their efforts on the media and entertainment fields, and it was proving to be quite profitable.
Sean was one of the managing editors at Infinity and reported directly to Dion. They’d experienced the usual sibling rivalry growing up, and Sean and Dion’s working relationship was often as intense as their family dynamic. Still, they kept their eyes on the prize—Infinity was in their blood and no matter what their disagreements were they always managed to pull together to make the best decisions for the magazine and the family.
“I’ve been working on that new distribution deal, so we should discuss that,” Sean said as both men walked toward the living room.
The living room was one of the largest spaces on the first floor of the house. Although it was a place for family gatherings that was furnished in a modern European style—with beige, deep-cushioned Italian leather sofas, lush dark-brown rugs, light oak coffee and end tables and a massive bar along the far wall—it still had a comfortable feel. The space was dubbed the centerpiece of the Big House by the Donovan children when they were young. The fact that the house was situated directly on the water with its own private dock and a breathtaking view made them think they were some kind of royalty—black royalty, as Janean would often say.
“Good.” Dion nodded. “That’s exactly what I want to talk about, moving the magazine forward for all of us.”
Dion fixed himself a drink as he talked.
Sean took a seat on the recliner. “You okay?” he asked.
“What kind of question is that?” Dion responded with a frown. “Of course I’m okay.”
Sean