by Mia Moore
“How can she be sure I’ll be discreet?”
“Well… you’re definitely trustworthy.” He gestured to the room about him. “You haven't stolen from me, and you’ve had plenty of opportunity to do so.” He rested his chin on his hands. “Michael notwithstanding, Brie, I did take a chance when I let you into my home and my life.”
“You sure did, Chris,” said Michael. “But..” he looked over at Brie, “your instincts about her are right on the money.” His smile was a white flag of truce.
“Well… I am able to keep confidences…” The oven timer buzzed and she jumped. She turned to the stove and opened the door to remove the steak. Her mind was going a mile a minute. She continued making dinner, almost on auto pilot, draining the potatoes, adding sour cream, seasoning.
The discretion thing was a given. Hell, who would she tell anyway? Aside from Carly, she didn't know anyone in the city.
Michael rose and offered to stir the cheese sauce. She handed him a whisk and she mashed the potatoes, almost whipping them to a froth.
“Actually, if you two can keep an open mind, she's invited us to a party next week. There's going to be a mix of people there. As she put it, some vanilla, some not so much. You can see for yourselves.” Chris plucked a thread from his vest and brushed the fabric.
Her eyes flashed to Michael. Chris was kind of blasé about this but Michael had been as shocked as she was. Imagine, HIM being her ally. Ha! He shook his head and shrugged. The smile on his lips said, why not?
She glanced at Chris only to find him gazing at Michael. How much longer until Michael moved in? Or Chris with Michael? This wasn't going to last forever and she'd better start looking for work. If only the job with Chris's cousin didn't include that sexual element. It'd be perfect if not for that.
Chris had been a good friend to her. Surely, if it was a den of inequity, he wouldn't even consider it for her. The fact that he'd mentioned her to his cousin and had actually BEEN to one of those parties counted for something. She bit her lower lip and took a deep breath. “Okay, I'll go. BUT, if I'm uncomfortable, we leave. You ARE going as well, right?”
“Wouldn't miss one of cousin Claire's bashes for all the world.” His grey eyes sparkled as he lifted the wine to his lips.
Chapter 18
True to her prediction, that week Michael spent every evening but one at Chris's. He'd taken over in the kitchen as well. Brie would do the breakfast and lunch but he'd hear nothing of it when she protested about him cooking dinner. The townhouse was starting to feel crowded, even though the hatchet had been buried.
The days leading up to the ominous Friday night seemed to fly by at warp speed. Now, it was Friday and it was tense.
Michael appeared to take it all in stride, waiting for Chris and Brie in the living room, reading the newspaper on line and sipping a glass of wine. He'd dressed in a dark sport coat, black and gray sweater with muted stripes and of course dark pants.
Brie applied eyeliner and shadow peering into the mirror in her bathroom. Her hand shook and she grabbed a cotton ball to tidy up the smudge of eyeliner. Twice that week she had come close to telling Chris to forget it. He must have sensed her fear because he'd taken her shopping once more at Bloomie's, for that perfect little black cocktail dress, 'a must have' in every woman's wardrobe.
Even the stockings were new, stay-ups the tops clinging to the softness of her thighs like glue. Well, they'd better stay up or she'd strangle him with them.
She curled her eyelashes and added another layer of mascara. Her lips twitched in an uncertain smile as she checked her reflection. She had to admit that she'd done almost as good a job as the cosmetician at Bloomie's. Her eyes were framed by thick black lashed, making the icy blue shade really stand out.
What would Claire and Alex be like? She fluffed her hair and darted across the hall to her bedroom. They were probably older, like Chris. She loosened the belt on her robe and glanced at the bed as she hung it on the back of the door.
A flash of Andy slipping the robe on before they'd showered flashed in her mind. Oh God. Had it only been a week ago that he'd been there? Just a one night stand. Not even a phone call before he'd shipped out the next day.
She walked to her closet and plucked the black dress from the hanger. It had cost a fortune but once again, Chris had insisted on paying. Her mouth turned down and she sighed. She owed him so much. If Claire was half as nice as Chris, working there might not be too bad. But they would HAVE to respect her limits on the parties. There was no way she'd do more than serve but the way Chris talked that was all she had to do. She slipped the dress over her head and wiggled, shimmying into it.
Oh my God. Listen to her. She was actually seriously considering working there? She took a deep breath. An open mind. Chris had harped on that all week long like some kind of broken record.
Her fingers adjusted the shoulders, tucking her bra strap securely in place. She pulled her shoulders back watching the reflection. The neckline seemed too low, showing a river of cleavage. If not for the assurances of Chris and the saleslady, she would have picked one that showed less skin. The soft stretchy fabric clung to her waist and hips, ending midway down her thighs. She turned to the side and pulled her tummy tight. It sure wasn't like any dress she'd ever buy but, it WAS flattering. She'd have to trust Chris and the saleslady about what to wear to this party. Hell, she'd always avoided parties back home and here she was going to some millionaires' bash—a sex party at that!
She slipped her feet into high heels and strode back and forth. Nope. No sign of the tops of her stockings and they were staying in place. Her fingers pulled the gold chain and pendant from the Cartier box on her dresser. It was fine as gossamer with a gold teardrop that rested in the hollow or her throat. Taking a deep breath, she managed a smile looking into the mirror. She WOULD try to keep an open mind. Besides, if things were too weird, Chris had promised they'd leave.
She walked out the door and down the hallway to the living room. Chris stood facing Michael and turned when he heard her footsteps. “Wow. Absolutely luscious with more than a little sophistication.” He positively gushed, his smile beaming above the navy blue jacket and crisp white sweater. His pants were a darker shade of blue, almost black above polished dark shoes.
With cheeks flushed pink, her fingers clutched the small sequined handbag in front of her tummy. She still couldn't get used to being the object of so much attention and the compliments.
Michael poured wine into a glass and then rose to his feet extending it to her. “You look great, Brie. Have some wine. It'll loosen you up.” He grinned, his dark eyes meeting hers, like they were in some sort of conspiracy. “I'm on my third. If it's any consolation, this kind of party is new for me too.”
Chris shook his head. Immediately his fingers flew to adjust the flap of hair that escaped, exposing lines of pink skull. “Oh pish posh, you two. You act as if we're going to some sort of orgy or something. Believe me, it'll be the height of decorum.” He placed his hand on Michael's cheek. “Have I ever lied to you, dear?”
Michael rolled his eyes and shot Brie a look.
She took a long sip of wine, almost draining the glass. Her eyes closed for a beat and she bit her lip. “I'm sticking to you guys like glue tonight. Don't even THINK of deserting me.”
Chris arched an eyebrow and touched her hand lightly. “You may desert us. Who knows what young paramour may become smitten with your charms?”
Michael snorted and gave her a wink. “He's been reading Dickens lately. Could you tell?” His face became serious. “Don't worry. Even if the social butterfly flits away, I'll stick with you. Promise.”
She smiled her thanks and held up her glass. “One more for the road?”
“Absolutely. I'll join you.” Michael tipped the bottle over her glass and then topped his own up. “Who knows? With enough of these we may even enjoy ourselves tonight.”
Chapter 19
The limo that Chris had hired for the evening pulled up to the c
urb. Her heart pounded and her mouth was suddenly dry taking it all in. Even by New York standards the building was unique, a wafer, long and thin, fifteen stories high with a distinctive curve of the building at the one end. Apart from the odd shape, it seemed to be mainly windows, separated by slices of vertical and horizontal brick.
A soft chuckle, followed by Michael's soft voice, “People who live in glass houses...”
She turned from the streetscape and building to see Chris give a soft tap to Michael's hand. “Shush.”
The door opened and the uniformed driver extended his hand to help her out. She eased forward and her high heeled foot landed on a shiny marble sidewalk. She pulled the ends of the cashmere wrap tighter over her shoulders as a gust of wind rushed down the canyon-like street. It seeped through the bare limbs of maple trees that lined the sidewalk like sentinels.
Chris appeared next to her, smiling down and offering his arm. “Isn't it fabulous! Claire and Alex own the penthouse. Three floors of opulence with an incredible view of the city.” He pointed to the curved wall of windows. “They call that side the prow. Like a ship. Isn't that quaint but so delightful.”
Michael appeared at her other side, his head upturned taking the building in. “I've never been in this building. Driven by it lots of times and always wondered what it'd be like inside. Is Claire one of the original owners?”
Chris urged Brie forward, walking to the glass doors, framed by green topiary in massive square containers. “Yes. They bought in when it was built. It's close to Alex's office. Wait till you see the view Brie! The view’s laid out like a bright banquet before you.”
Michael darted forward and held the door open for Chris and her to enter. Chris's face was flushed with excitement and his eyes shone. He led her across the entranceway to the last door in a row of doors. When they went in, polished steel of elevator doors met her eyes.
“Every condo has their own private elevator. Even in the units themselves--Claire has three floors, did I mention that?--the elevator takes you to each level. He pressed the button and looked up at the line of lights above the door. “Aha. It must be on its way down.”
Brie's eyes darted to the lights and then to the gray door in front of her. Oh my God. She'd expected something really fancy and rich but even Chris was impressed by all of it and he was RICH! She was a hell of a long way from Mumford Ohio. Her gut clenched in a knot and she needed to pee. Maybe she could tell Chris she was sick, some vague woman thing that men hated to acknowledge. She glanced over at him. He was preening like a peacock. No. He'd never buy it.
The first light above the door lit and there was a soft ding, before the doors slide open, wide as an alligator's jaws.
“Here we go.” Michael waited until she and Chris stepped inside the shiny cell before joining them.
Her heart thundered in her chest, beating harder and louder with each floor they skimmed by. Michael rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels while Chris smiled watching the doors in front of him. They were so at ease, going to this party. Of course they would be, being New Yorkers and being well off. True, Michael wasn't rich like Chris, but he hobnobbed with politicians and the elite. What the hell was SHE doing there? A poor grocery clerk from Mumford. Her hand was damp, resting on Chris's arm.
The ding of the elevator reverberated inside her head, bouncing between her ears like a ping pong ball. Oh God. Why had she ever agreed to go to this party?
When the door slid silently open, a small room, floor and walls a pale gray marble was revealed. There was a dark recessed counter where a small vase sat, holding a bright pink orchid upright. At the side wall, two chairs flanked a small table, dwarfed by the abstract painting that hung above them. It was a waiting room. More elegant than any you'd find in a doctor's office but still a waiting room nonetheless.
“It's just through here. Breathe Brie. You'll be fine.” Chris nudged her, leading the way through an archway into a humongous room with floor to ceiling windows.
Her eyes were big as saucers scanning the people already there. Most stood in small clusters, talking and laughing with ostentatious ease, polished, practiced, perfect. A few couples perched on pale gray leather sofas, graceful, slim arms and hands fluttering and grazing each other's hand or knee. Soft jazz music floated in the air, an underscore to the bubbles of laughter and animated conversation.
Michael stepped to her side and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I'll get you a glass of wine. Liquid courage.” He turned and smiled at Chris. “Wine, my love?”
But Chris ignored him. His attention was riveted across the room. A broad smile burst forth, a show of dazzling white teeth while his eyes widened. Brie and Michael turned to see what he was looking at.
A blonde, middle aged woman scampered across the wooden floor, in a mist of lime green chiffon. Her smile was wide while the focus of dark rimmed eyes flitted from Chris to Michael and rested on Brie briefly. The woman was rail thin, a diamond necklace resting on pale collarbones.
“Chris! I'm so glad you could make it tonight.”Tanned, sinewy arms encircled his shoulders and she planted a kiss on his cheek. She eased back and rested a manicured hand on Michael's arm. “You must be Michael. Chris has spoken highly of you.” A musical laugh trilled from her throat. “The Mayor as well.” She turned and placed her fingers lightly on Brie's arms. “And you! I'm so glad you came tonight Brie. Chris has been singing your praises as well.”
Brie stood there staring into the older woman's eyes, unable to speak even the expected pleasantries for a moment. Chris was easy to talk to, but his cousin's manner, the warmth of her smile and friendly upturned eyes, made him seem like a cold fish. She didn't know what kind of woman she'd expected to meet but Claire was definitely not her.
She breathed a slow sigh and smiled. “Thanks. I mean...” She glanced at Chris and back to Claire. “Chris is kind. He's been good to me...”
“Claire! Just call me Claire.” Her delicate fingers rested on Brie's arm and her eyes grew wide. “We've got to get you a drink. I'd like you to meet my husband Alex and show you around.” She looked over at Chris and shook her head.
Michael leaned closer to her. “Got it covered Claire. I was just on my way to the bar.” He winked at Brie and hurried off.
Chris looked around the room and back to his cousin. “Where IS Alex? I don't see him.”
Her head dropped to the side and a small smile appeared on her lips. “He's playing host upstairs at the pool. There're a few people up there.” She gave him a sharp look and turned once more to Brie.
“Chris tells me you're a fabulous cook. Did you train at any school or—”
“Self taught. I like watching cooking shows. They make it look easy and with the right recipe, anyone can cook. Even me.” There was a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach when she glanced at Chris. There were more people upstairs? Was that where the orgy was?
Claire's lips pursed and her chin dropped. “I think you're being modest. I can't cook and neither can Chris.”
Michael appeared, his fingers straining to hold three glasses of wine. He held his hands in front of Brie and she carefully extracted the outside one. The effects of the wine she'd had at home had worn off and a fresh infusion was definitely needed. She took a long sip, watching Claire's face brighten once more. Her smile was dazzling under sculpted cheekbones, her eyes narrow edged with fine laugh lines.
“What do you think of New York? Quite a change from Ohio, I'll bet.” Claire fluffed a stray lock of golden hair that had fallen onto her bare shoulder.
Brie smiled, loving the warmth of the cool wine infusing her throat. It was like silk settling into her tummy and soothing the jittery feeling she'd felt coming into the building. “Awesome city. I like it. I'm still trying to get used to the pace. Everyone is in such a hurry all the time.”
“That's New York, the hub of free enterprise.” Chris snorted. He edged closer to Michael and spoke softly in his ear.
Claire scowled at him, lines fu
rrowing a high smooth brow. “Free enterprise has been good to us, Cuz. Don't knock it.” She turned and took Brie's hand. “Let's go over by the window and check out the skyline.”
Brie's heart leapt into her throat, but she forced a smile and took a deep breath following Claire. A silver haired man sitting across from a busty brunette, looked up and nodded as she passed by. His partner's heavily made-up eyes flitted to Brie and a slow smile spread her full ruby lips. Brie looked away quickly. Were those two part of the sex players? Were they coming on to her?
Claire stopped and gazed out at the view of the city. The Empire State building dominated high above the other bright towers of commerce and apartment buildings. It was amazing how far in the distance the twinkling lights of the city extended.
Claire turned to face her and her head tilted to the side. Dark eyes skewered Brie, roaming over her face, sizing her up. “Chris told me that you are looking for work. He also told me that you're honest and trustworthy.”
Brie nodded, barely breathing. She knew why Claire had singled her out, talking quietly there by the window. She cleared her throat and her chin lowered. “But I haven't any experience working in a place like this. I mean--”
“You cook and keep house for Chris. In addition you're taking courses and Chris says you're pretty bright.” She gazed out the window, silent for a few moments. “Look Brie, it's an expensive home and we're well off. I make no apologies for that. We work hard and we play hard.” She turned and her hand rose in a sweeping gesture spanning the room. “The people here tonight...Some of the richest and most connected in the city. But they put their pants on one leg at a time. Just like you. Take away the designer clothes and jewels and they're just people.”
Brie gazed at a group of people standing near the bar--two women in their late thirties and three men, talking . One of the women was tiny, with Asian features wearing a sleek form fitting dress while the other woman was a blowsy red head, her heavy body camouflaged in layers of green flowing silk. The man she was facing was about the same age, his eyes serious and intent above a trimmed beard and moustache. He looked like a stereotype of a college professor.
