by M. S. Parker
“Good idea,” I said, “Henry can pick you up and drive you to the airport.”
April’s smile slipped. “You know your father will do anything I ask. He wants me and that means he wants me to stay on the film.”
I knew the smile that curved my lips was cruel, but I didn't care. “I have news for you, April. Henry only wanted you in this movie because your name has a certain draw on audiences, but when the studio hears about this, he won't think twice about backing me.”
April forced a laugh and said, “Henry never liked Chelsea. He won’t care she’s in jail. In fact, he’ll be glad when I tell him how she stole from me.”
She brushed a hand over the tennis bracelet and smiled, as if certain that Henry would soon buy her a bigger and better one to match.
“Except she didn’t steal it from you, and I know it. You framed her,” I snapped.
She shrugged. “Either way, she’s in jail and I’m still on the film.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and squeezed tight. April was so confident she’d get her way. In her mind, this was all a game and soon I’d give in and admit my attraction to her. She honestly thought she could play me off my father, as if jealousy would drive me to take what he clearly wanted, but she didn’t know the half of it.
A sour feeling spread through my stomach. This woman was poison, and I needed her out of my life. Not only was she causing chaos on the movie set, she was driving a wedge between Chelsea and me. It killed me to see the hurt on Chelsea’s beautiful face when they put the handcuffs on her.
I knew Henry would roll out the same old stale argument: the film’s budget would suffer, April’s star status was gold, we’d lose thousands. But I didn’t care about that anymore. Yes, there’d be consequences for the film, and we’d be set back at least a month, but it’d be worth it. Star status or not; it would be a cold day in hell before I let that witch back into my house or back on my film.
My hand balled into a fist. I wanted to slam it on the desk. I wanted to snatch her drink and hurl it against the beautiful mahogany panels of the library. I hated this house. All the expensive décor, all the chandeliers, the pool, the gardens, none of it meant a thing when it came from Henry, when it always came with strings attached. Just like my film. None of it was worth a dime if it meant Chelsea had to look at me the way she did when she walked to the squad car, her eyes steeped with resignation and mistrust. She probably hated me right about now.
I wanted to call the cops, have April forcibly removed from the property. Call my father and tell him that I was done with all of it unless he caved about firing April. But, I reminded myself, April was crafty, and I had to make sure to play her right. I figured I’d better cool my jets before I lost it, and did something that’d get me in the headlines of the newspaper. That wouldn't be the best way to get what I wanted.
She thought she understood how my father thought, but she had no idea. I did. My father wouldn't do anything for me because I was his son, but I knew what buttons to push, and I was going to push them all. I just had to be smart about it.
I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes at her. “Chelsea was right about you.”
April’s mouth puckered into a frown, and she took a long sip before managing to ask, “What did your little maid say about me?”
“She said you were jealous enough to try something stupid and now you’ve gone and proven her right,” I said.
April’s crimson manicure curled into claws before she caught herself and smoothed down her glossy dress.
“She’s the one that’s stupid,” April, said.
Jamison shifted slightly. April’s heavy eyelashes flicked up to him and she waved her drink glass at him. He poured another drink with one hand, and gave her a slight bow.
He was good.
She smiled and said, “It was so easy to get her up to the guest cottage this morning. She is good maid material. I’ll admit that. Always ready to jump. Like a little puppy, really.”
“How long did it take you to plan your little charade?”
April laughed, “I thought of it last night during your little relaxation gift. All I needed to do was get her there earlier than normal. Butler here…” She waved a dismissive hand at Jamison. “All he had to do was tell the police it was strange and that helped make the case.”
“You figured they’d believe your terrible acting?” I asked, winding her up just enough to keep going.
“I didn’t need them to believe me,” she snapped. “Your little maid slut was stupid enough to let me slip the bracelet into her pocket. Then they caught her red-handed.”
“And all because you were jealous of Chelsea,” I said, shaking my head. Only half of it was acting. I'd always known April was petty and shallow. I'd just never realized how far she'd go.
“Not jealous, honey. Not willing to share,” April said with a slow lick of her lips.
Jamison spoke up, and said, “I think that’s enough, sir.”
I nodded and turned to April. “You’d better call Henry for a ride, because I’m heading to the police station.”
April sat up, craning her neck to give Jamison a withering look. “What? Why?”
“So they can hear what Jamison just recorded on his phone.” I tilted my head at her widened eyes. “And to bring Chelsea home. Now, get the hell out,” I said, striding toward the door. “You need to be gone when we get back, or you'll be going to jail for trespassing, and I sure as hell won't be there to get you out.”
I didn’t look back, but I felt April’s narrowed gaze boring into me. A moment later, I heard her purr into her phone, “Henry, honey, I need someone to save me.”
Whatever she told my father wasn’t important. All that mattered now was getting Chelsea out of that humiliating place and back home with me.
Where she belonged.
Chapter Thirty
Alex
My phone rang as I parked the car outside the local police station. “Hello, Henry,” I said, not needing to look at the caller ID.
“You fired April Temple.” It was more of an accusation than anything. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” His voice was laced with the usual criticism he always reserved for me.
“She’s caused enough trouble,” I said as I killed the engine.
“What happens in your personal life shouldn’t affect the film,” he said.
“My thoughts exactly,” I retorted. I'd had enough.
I heard my father draw in an angry breath. “I don’t know what this little drama with the thieving maid is all about, but set it aside and do what’s best for the production. Losing April means losing investors, not to mention time, and money.”
That was exactly what I’d predicted he’d say. Same old shit, new day. “Look Henry, April accused Chelsea of stealing, she went so far as to frame her,” I said, slamming the car door shut with more force than needed.
“Some petty spat about a piece of jewelry isn’t reason enough to fire an actor.” He shot back. “She’s part of the actor’s union, for Christ’s sake. Do you have any idea how much paperwork this’ll create? Not to mention that firing her without just cause could bring on a lawsuit.”
“Except for the fact that I have proof she framed Chelsea. I’m at the jail right now, picking Chelsea up. April’s the one creating a hostile work environment, not Chelsea, and the police are going to have that on record once I give them the proof that April set up the whole thing.” I paused outside the entrance, not wanting to have this conversation in the middle of a police station. “And I can't guarantee they won't want to press charges against her.”
His voice changed from hostile to contemptuous. “Oh, Alex, don’t be so dramatic. I’m sure your little fling is just fine,” he said. “April, on the other hand, is inconsolable.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to console her. You seem to be really good at that,” I said.
“No. You will. What exactly are you going to do to smooth all this over?” he asked.
&nb
sp; “Don’t worry. I called her agent on my way here, and I’ve sent an email to our casting head,” I said. “I’ll conference call with the investors later and explain everything.”
“I meant with April,” he snapped. “I’ve brought her to my house for the time being, but you need to fix this…and fast.”
“Sounds like you finally have your starlet right where you want her, Henry. Well, don’t worry, I’m not going to mess that up for you.”
I pictured my father yanking at his collar, the ruddy color creeping up his neck. He had a habit of doing that that when he was frustrated, and I swore I heard April whining and purring at him in the background.
April, the starlet was a wonderful fantasy, but April Temple, the petulant houseguest, was something entirely different. I smiled and kicked at a rock on the pavement, anxious to end this conversation and get inside to take care of Chelsea.
“The least you can do is come over for dinner and try to work things out,” Henry said. He actually sounded stressed.
“Sorry, Henry, I’m busy. Open a case of champagne and have yourselves a good night,” I said and clicked off the call.
The smile stayed with me as I took the first few steps, then I thought of Chelsea’s morning and I felt a stab of remorse. My poor little water nymph must be worried to death. And she must be really angry with me for bringing April into her life to begin with. I could only imagine how horrible she must be feeling about the false accusation. I hoped she realized I didn’t believe April for one second, but the idea that she’d sat in jail for the last couple hours probably thinking that I sided against her was enough to send me running up the last flight of steps.
The police station was bright and airy, with white gleaming floors, wide windows, and breathtaking views of The Hague. A few employees worked at white computers, while here and there people sat in interviews at small round tables.
Across the open office was a small sitting area with sofas and chairs. I saw Chelsea sitting comfortably on a light blue sofa under one of the wide windows, sipping a mug of tea. The uniformed officer seated across from her tipped back his white-blond head and laughed out loud, nearly making me stop in my tracks. I’d expected to find her wrought with worry, maybe even in tears and wearing an orange jumpsuit, not sipping tea and laughing. I didn’t see what was so funny about being in custody. Not when I'd been so worried about her.
“So this is where they keep the hardcore criminals?” I quipped, hoping to make light of my surprise.
Chelsea looked up and smiled, but the officer frowned, and said, “She’s not yet through processing.”
Clearly, he was in no hurry to finish the paperwork spread on the coffee table between them. I caught the look he gave her, and knew he’d been stretching out the time on purpose. My stomach clenched and I couldn’t decide what was worse, Chelsea being alone in a jail cell or here in the sunshine with this guy drooling over her. The way he clicked his pen made them both smile at some inside joke, and for a second I wished there were bars between the two of them instead of a coffee table and the damn sunshine.
“Ah. Well, I have a recording here that I think should be submitted along with…” I waved a hand over the massive paperwork. “All these forms.” I pulled out Jamison's phone.
Chelsea hid her shining smile behind the mug of tea as I played April’s confession for the officer.
When the recording finished, I addressed the officer. “My butler also heard the confession, and he would be willing to come in and give a statement if necessary.”
“This is quite outside regulations.” The officer sat with his pen still paused over a form as though thinking.
I shot him a steel glare. “Well, why don’t you go find someone who can decide that before you go any farther here?”
He popped up out of his seat. “Wait right here.”
After he left, I eased down onto the sofa next to Chelsea. “And here I was worried you’d be in a jumpsuit and working on your first tattoo.”
“If it makes you feel any better, they made me wear the handcuffs all the way down the driveway,” she said with a grin. “Oh, Alex, I was joking. Believe me, I’m fine.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that she wasn’t upset and even gladder that she didn’t seem to be angry with me for all of April’s antics. “Hey, look Chelsea. I’m really sorry. This never should’ve happened. You’ll be glad to know, I fired April. She’s gone.”
She frowned, which wasn't the reaction I'd been expecting.
“What? But what about your investors? The film?” she asked, setting the mug down hard. “Don’t make everything harder on yourself just because of this.”
I took her hand. “I had to do it,” I said, “Should’ve done it a long time ago, but I was too...well, too much of a coward, I guess. But I couldn’t let her hurt you like this. I don’t want anyone to hurt you, ever.”
Chelsea squeezed my hand and smiled. “April’s really gone?”
I exhaled a deep breath and relaxed. “Well, she’s at Henry’s. Let him deal with the…we’ll just let him deal with her.”
Chelsea laughed. “Poor Henry.”
I glanced up to see the officer scowling at me from across the room as a tall man in a dark suit listened to what he was saying. The man nodded, frowned, and then marched over toward us.
“Ms. Carerra,” he said, holding out a large hand. “Captain Dollard. It seems you have strong character witnesses who vouches for your innocence.”
“And a recorded confession,” I added.
“Soft evidence,” he said, dismissing me. “I have an officer talking with Ms. Temple at the moment.”
It was impossible to tell what the man was thinking. His expression was as indifferent his whitewashed surroundings. I put an arm around Chelsea and scowled at him.
“Look Captain…I mean…Captain, sir, Ms. Temple is, well, she's an actress, and she can be very, um, convincing. What I’m trying to say is, she’s already admitted to framing Chelsea. She even explained how she did it. I have it all right here recorded on this phone. That should be enough to let Chelsea go.”
This definitely wasn't going like the white knight rescue I'd imagined.
The captain ignored me and addressed Chelsea again. “Ms. Carerra, you have a spotless record in the United States. That, plus the character witnesses and the fact the stolen property was recovered means you most likely will be leaving us with no more than a warning.”
Chelsea thanked him and the corners of his mouth tipped up in the barest curve of a smile. The junior officer raced up, smiled at Chelsea, and leaned in to speak quietly with the captain. The Captain’s eyes brightened and he turned to Chelsea. “In light of new information, you’re free to go. It seems Ms. Temple has dropped the charges.”
Apparently, April hadn't counted on my father wanting to avoid a scandal.
“I’ll escort you out,” the younger man offered with a smile.
Chelsea noticed the hard set of my jaw and squeezed my knee before she got up and accepted the officer’s arm. I didn’t like this young guy’s fawning over Chelsea, one bit. The tables were turned now, and Chelsea had someone flirting with her while I watched. I didn't like it one bit. Another man eyeing her, enjoying the touch of her arm or the lilt in her laughter as much as I did. I swallowed hard. It made me realize all the more how much I wanted Chelsea to be my girl and no one else’s.
I forced myself to keep an even keel and politely follow them out. They stopped at the front counter for her to sign a few more papers, and it seemed like an eternity before I had her alone in the car. Finally.
I jammed the key in the ignition and turned to study her face. “Are you alright?” I asked, starting the engine.
“Yes, fine. Just a little tired,” she said.
Before I shifted the car into reverse, I let the engine idle for a moment. I reached across and stroked a wisp of hair out of her face. I wanted to pull her into my arms and comfort her, tell her I’d protect her, and never let any
thing bad happen to her ever again. Instead, I held back, sure that she hated me for being so spineless, for not standing up to my father, not firing April sooner.
“You know Chelsea, I never believed April for a second,” I said, meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve been acting like a dickhead half the time.”
She shrugged as if throwing off my apology and said, “It’s okay. But…thank you.”
Searching her face, I wasn’t sure how to read her right now. Was that a polite thank you or not? I didn’t want to press my luck so I just said, “Why don’t you rest a bit while I drive us home.”
She nestled into the passenger seat while I put the car in reverse. The words echoed in my mind as I drove. Drive us home. It sounded good, and it'd felt even better when I'd said it. Chelsea may have thought of herself as merely my maid, but now I knew I wanted her to be more. I wanted her to be mine.
The question was, what did Chelsea want?
Chapter Thirty-One
Alex
Once home, I tried to give Chelsea some space, but barely thirty minutes had gone by when I found myself climbing the servants’ cottage steps, needing to see her. Up in her attic room, I found her fresh out of the shower, wrapped in a thin robe and brushing her hair. She was sitting at her small desk and looking out the window.
I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms over my chest, admiring a magnificent view of my own, my eyes drifting down her long, wet hair and finding a spot to nestle on the exposed curve of her perfect breast. Her robe was barely tied. “Got rid of the prison stench?”
Chelsea stopped brushing and chuckled as she turned to look at me. “Having a few cups of tea and answering some politely-worded questions doesn’t really count as hard time.”
She placed her hairbrush aside on the desk and turned further in her chair.
“Don’t stop on my account.” I nodded to the brush. It was the movement of her arm that was working the robe open in the front, but now that she faced me it gaped open enough for an eyeful.
