Lotus: Two Hearts

I first met Nicolas Marcello Fitzpatrick at the age of eighteen when I came to live with the Fitzpatrick’s, one of London’s wealthiest families. He was adopted by James Fitzpatrick at a very young age after his parents died tragically in a plane crash. My father often joked about his friend being one of the kindest rich men that he had the fortune to ever meet and befriend.

He once told me that James would often care for maimed animals, feed birds in the park and donate millions to children’s hospitals. So, it was no surprise to me that my father had named him as my guardian if anything should ever happen to him and my mother. So, here I was, face to face with what I thought was a dire consequence, standing on the threshold of a change that I was not sure I could deal with. My feet for the life of me were unable to move forward as he greeted me at the door. He was so tall with broad shoulders and the most mesmerizing smile I had ever seen. Casually dressed in a simple black cashmere sweater that fitted his shoulders as though it was made only for him, he looked exceptionally dangerous and carried himself with valor and confidence.

Without taking a breath, my eyes traveled from his face and shoulders to his thighs which looked so divinely sculpted that the jeans, though not plastered to him, took the onlookers’ breath away. I remembered telling myself that he would have done well in the Roman and Greek empires, assuming the character of one of their many deities.

I was so enthralled by his presence that I felt as though my tongue had cleaved to the roof of my mouth, anxiously unable to reply to his pleasantry as he welcomed me. I guessed a man like this was accustomed to having many females stare at him because he caught my stare and smiled.

“Féria, welcome to Grace Mansion, my name is Nick,” he said, smiling while extending his hand and awaiting my response.

Noticing that I was still in a trance, he took mine and lightly shook it. His hands were soft and smooth like a “baby’s ass,” I thought. Snapping out of my reverence I returned to earth and handed him my bags which he accepted and passed on to the older man who was also waiting at the door.

“Well, are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come in and meet the rest of the family?” he asked.

Aware that the other members of the family were quickly approaching to introduce themselves and welcome me, I immediately ventured a few more feet inside my new home.

I recalled Elizabeth stepping forward to hug me tightly and saying something to the effect like welcome to your new home Féria. I was not too taken aback by her words, because the few times that I had previously met her, she seemed to be a genuinely caring person, and my mother had loved and regarded her as a true friend, as much as my father had with James, her husband.

This introduction was followed by handshakes and kisses from other members of the family.“Come quickly,” she said, taking my hands and leading me upstairs to my room. As I entered, I realized that they had probably spent a small fortune decorating it for their new guest.

As I moved across the room, the thick persian carpet with pink roses in different hues was soft and dreamlike almost like the one in my old room. The bed was huge and seemed to beckon to me after my long and exhausting journey.

Everything was perfect, except my heart still longed for my parents, and my home. Seemingly, as in a trance I approached the windows and my eyes caught a scene in the driveway, Nicolas in the courtyard awaiting a car that approached slowly and as it stopped, a beautiful, well dressed and fashionable woman stepped out from the back.

I saw him move forward, take her hands and the two exchanged a very passionate kiss. Immediately, I felt a pang of jealousy mixed with anger and confusion and thought what a whore. As I attempted to move away from the window and step back, I saw him cast a look in my direction. Thinking that he may have thought of me as a “peeping tom” I marched over to the bed and threw myself on it - somewhat in embarrassment.

I did not immediately know how exhausted I was. Tomorrow was the reading of my “father’s Will” and I was not looking forward to it. With my mind reeling and still on these events, I drifted off to sleep without showering or even changing my clothes. I vaguely remembered a light knock on my door and a tall dark figure standing in the doorway calling my name softly. The figure beside my bed lingered there briefly.