Indecent Encounter: The Silverhaus Affair

by M. S. Parker

  I couldn't help myself. “You know Chelsea is working on the film now. We’re almost done with rewrites and getting ready to start shooting again.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right,” April said, slinking closer again to pat my arm. “I know it can’t be easy, using cheap labor like that. Sorry, I couldn’t stick around to fill out your marquee.”

  “No problem,” I muttered, trying to move away. She noticed my lack of interest and frowned.

  Thankfully, April stopped pressing against me when my father joined us. Like a chameleon changing colors, April immediately stepped up to my father’s arm and wrapped herself around him.

  “Henry dear, tells me I won’t have to settle for second best again.”

  “Good evening, Alex,” he said. “Hasn’t Benji done a great job with the place? Perfect for entertaining.” He seemed nervous and wouldn’t look me in the eye. Besides, we’d already talked earlier. Why was acting like we just met?

  “A little flashy, but I hear good taste weakens with age,” I said.

  Henry frowned over the crowd as April petted his lapels admiring her gaudy jewelry. “Speaking of flashy,” she said, “have you seen what your little maid is wearing? Black satin and lace, not your standard maid’s uniform, but I hear Benji isn’t paying her for the standard services.”

  Although April’s smile was small and secretive, she was about as subtle as a cat with canary feathers sticking out of its mouth.

  “Yes, Father, don’t you think it’s time you cleared up this whole misunderstanding?” I asked, “It’s only fair to Chelsea, and I’m sure Benji would appreciate hearing it from you before he’s embarrassed.”

  Henry’s eyes flicked over to me. “I only told him the truth about how you found Chelsea and the website.”

  “From the sounds of it, Chelsea jumped at the chance,” April said. “Henry says all Benji had to do was hand her a note, and she accepted the position within minutes. I wonder what was in that note?”

  I felt the burn in my chest. April was a self-serving bitch. She’d say anything to create a divide between Chelsea and me. My logic told me I was right, but that damn little seed of doubt burrowed in like a tick on a dog. April mentioned the one thing that bothered me. Why had Chelsea accepted the position so quickly that night at dinner?

  One moment we'd been kissing, and the next she'd been standing in the doorway announcing her job change like I was some kind of ghost in the room. At the time, I thought it’d be a good thing for her to take the job. We could see each other, no complications. But once she'd moved in here at Benji’s house, she'd put me off and we hadn't seen each other for days. It killed me to doubt her, but my emotions were messing with my head.

  “You know,” April said, turning to Henry, “I think you were right about Chelsea all along. A few minutes ago, I saw Benji take her into the library. They looked quite cozy when he closed the door.” She turned back to me with a sly, sidelong glance.

  I started toward the library, but Henry caught my arm. “Really, son, stop acting like a fool. She took the job of her own free will, and you haven’t seen her since. Take the hint for god’s sake.”

  April reached out and patted my arm again. “It can’t be easy, baby. Getting rejected by two women in one week. But you’ll get over it.”

  I pulled away as I turned and damn near ran over the redheaded server. I steadied her silver tray and apologized. In return she gave me a venomous look and spun off without offering me a canapé.

  April cooed, “It’s just not your week, baby. Maybe what you need is a rabbit’s foot or something else to rub for luck.”

  She shimmied her low neckline at me until Henry pulled her back. My father cleared his throat, and put his hand on her back to get her to leave. As she turned to go, she gave me a wink as well as one last up and down gaze before my embarrassed father managed to steer her away.

  Just when I thought I’d finally have a chance to go look for Chelsea, I recognized the warm voice of an old friend behind me. “You Silverhaus boys have never been lucky in love.”

  “Dirk, ah…” Shit. I was trapped.

  If one more person stopped to talk to me, I was going to explode, but there was nothing I could do. He was a long time friend, a close buddy of my brother’s. I had to say hello and be polite. I couldn’t brush him off, but what April just said about Chelsea and Benji in the library had my head spinning. Part of me said that it was April up to her old tricks and Chelsea was probably washing dishes in the kitchen, but the other part of me was fuming.

  “Good to see you, man,” I said, clapping him on the back.

  “Look at you all dressed up. You Silverhaus boys have all the good looks. Still miss your brother. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t think of him,” Dirk said, raising a glass to Carrie across the room.

  My sister-in-law caught his gesture and smiled back. She tipped her head for me to go join her. I shook my head and nodded toward the library doors. I had to think of a way to get rid of Dirk and get into that library. Carrie pursed her lips and started across the room with a look on her face like she had something to tell me, but I just smiled. In my mind I was already planning to pawn her off on ol’ Dirk so that I could go find Chelsea.

  My attention was drawn back to the conversation as Dirk said, “Maybe that’s your problem, you’re too handsome to catch a decent girl. There’re rumors flying tonight, buddy. Something about you tangling with a maid, and that she jilted you for a better paycheck with Benji. You should hear Electra. She’s about to start breathing fire.”

  “Uh…yeah. I’ve heard the rumors.” And they were getting to me. “I haven’t seen her in days though and…” I was about to go off on Dirk and give him an earful. The longer I stood here listening to everyone gossip about Chelsea and speculate about who was going to ‘tap that ass’ next, the more infuriated I became.

  I glanced at Carrie, who was tearing herself away from a cluster of women and then I shot a look at the dreaded library door. “Ah, Dirk. Why don’t you do some catching up with Carrie. Here she is now. I’ll talk to you later…” I mumbled the last part as I pushed past a bewildered-looking Carrie.

  I drifted off, lost in thought as I headed for the library. I’d never once made my attention seem like part of Chelsea's job. Or at least, I'd never thought I had. Maybe she'd really thought I was using her.

  Then again, maybe she was using me. If I thought about it, she'd only had light duties and plenty of time off, and she also had her first screenwriting gig because of me. From the outside looking in, Chelsea got everything she wanted from me, and then moved on to a bigger paycheck.

  The burning in my chest was sharper, and I rubbed a palm against my white dress shirt as if that would calm the pain. I’d hightailed it to the party just for a glimpse of Chelsea. Both times, when I saw her, she was smiling under Benji’s eternal ogling, apparently not at all uncomfortable or embarrassed, even in that ridiculous outfit. What the hell was up with that? Either she didn’t know what he expected, or she didn’t mind.

  I snagged a whiskey off a passing tray and threw it back in one gulp.

  If she was aware of Benji’s motives and she enjoyed it, I mean if she was flirting back with him and wanted it, then that stung more than this whiskey burning down my throat.

  Dammit! I was falling for her. Like barreling down a hill a hundred miles an hour with no helmet and a brick wall at the bottom kinda falling. It was fast, and it felt euphoric, but the brick wall at the bottom was gonna hurt like a motherfucker.

  That was why I couldn’t bring myself to doubt her even as my head turned over the grim possibilities. I was blinded by my heart, and I longed to sweep her off her feet.

  I had to face her. I had to try. I needed to know what Chelsea really felt for me now that work didn't stand in the way.

  I turned toward the library and wiped the whiskey from my mouth with the back of my hand. Before I took one step, the heavy wooden library door flung open wide and there was Chelsea. Arched back, bl
ack hair spilling loose, she clung to Benji’s lapels as his lips devoured hers. The ripple of shock turned to a wave of laughter as the two secret lovers were exposed to the entire party.

  When Benji’s ex saw the couple, she slammed her crystal glass to the marble floor, spraying Carrie’s dress with red wine even as the glass shattered. Carrie jumped back with an open-mouthed gasp. No one noticed the blood dripping from Electra’s cut hand, but me. It was like a crazy, wild scene from a movie.

  A fucking horrible movie.

  My heart fell to the floor. I looked around but all eyes were on Benji as he pulled Chelsea back to her feet. Her eyes caught mine, and all my hopes were drowned.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chelsea

  I tried to tell him to stop, but I was off balance. If I pulled away I would’ve fallen flat on my ass, and thanks to this dress, I would’ve given everyone an even better show than they’d bargained for, so I hung on and kept my lips shut tight.

  There was no denying his skill or the feel of his strong arms around my back and waist. Mr. B was handsome and well-muscled. He'd clearly kissed many women, and being kissed by him wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

  But Alex’s lips were always hot, searing against mine and…why was I even thinking about how this kiss felt? I was kissing my boss! I groaned at the realization. No, no! He was kissing me. I wasn’t kissing back, but the moment I felt him smile against my lips I knew that he misunderstood my throaty exhale as a sign of pleasure. Aghast, I tried to get my feet under me and end the kiss.

  Then I heard the gasps and the nervous laughter echoing back from the hall. Tipping my head for a look, I saw that the library door was standing wide open, and a semi-circle of guests were watching our embrace. Oh crap! I could just imagine how this must look to them.

  Mr. B smiled against my lips again, this time at the sound of a crystal glass smashing. Then he was lifting me up to my feet, only hanging on to steady me. He faced our audience, all of his guests, with his arm around my waist, and tucked me in close to his body before I could protest.

  Then with a theatrical flourish, he gave a bow and announced with a wry smile, “Dinner will be served shortly,” as if this were all some kind of show or a joke to entertain his guests. How nice of him to amuse his guests at my expense. My face burned. He reached out to pull the library door shut and I heard chuckles and laughter, but it didn’t erase the crease in my brow.

  I moved with Mr. B as he stepped back from the door, too shocked to know what to do. Just as Mr. B reached for the door handle to shut it, I caught a glimpse of Alex’s face in the small crowd. His eyes were colder than before, his jaw clenched tight. Right before the door closed and cut off my view, for a split second, our gazes met, and I saw his face harden. He was furious, and I was to blame.

  I only hoped that once I could get away, he’d be calm enough to listen to me, and I could explain what had really happened. Then his face shifted, and my heart froze in my chest. I saw him step back, turning his body away as if he didn't care, but it was clear in the slope of his shoulders that I was nothing more than a disappointment.

  The heavy library door latched shut, and I ripped myself from Mr. B’s embrace. He let me go this time, but I turned after two steps, everything I had bottled up inside me exploded out. I swung back at him, pounding my open palm against his shoulder.

  “What were you thinking? What were you doing?” The words came gushing out, choked on a rising sob.

  “Now wait a minute.” Mr. B said. He caught my wrists and crinkled his brow. “I can’t kiss you?”

  “No. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but no, you cannot kiss me,” I said, wrenching my hands free.

  “Ah, I see. I’d heard that was sometimes the way these things worked, everything else but kissing. Too intimate, right?” he asked.

  My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? What do you think I am, a prostitute?”

  “That was the impression I was given.”

  Mr. B adjusted his dinner coat and smoothed his shirtfront. He looked completely confused, which was the only thing that kept me from slapping him.

  “Not by me!” I said, my breath giving out as the implications hit me. “Who suggested that?”

  Mr. B’s hard expression softened as he said, “Henry implied it when he told me how Alex hired you.” He glanced away and his breath caught in his throat in surprise. “Oh, I see. What a fool I have been. It’s not true, is it? Maybe for other girls, but not for you. Right?”

  “Exactly,” I said, sinking onto a low, red sofa. My hands were shaking, but at least I knew now that Mr. B had simply misunderstood. He wasn't a bad guy. A bit of a lech, but not someone who would've forced himself on someone he knew didn't want it.

  Mr. B sat down next to me and brushed a strand of hair back from my face. I flinched away from his touch, blinking back another wave of tears.

  He tilted his head to the side and spoke softly. “It was only a kiss, my dear.”

  I raked my hair back and twisted it into a bun. “But Alex saw and now he thinks what you think...he thinks all I care about is the money.”

  Mr. B nodded and then gave a sad smile. “Alex. No wonder he wanted to knock my block off back there in the foyer.” He paused for a moment, and then asked, “Are you in love with Alex?”

  “It doesn't matter now. I saw his face.” I wiped at an escaping tear even as my heart broke from the truth of what I'd said.

  His eyebrows shot up. Then he rubbed his chin with his hand. “Well, sometimes jealousy is good for a relationship, like a tonic.”

  I blinked and noticed his thoughtful glance at the door. “Is that why you made sure the door opened? You wanted someone to see us kissing? To make someone jealous?”

  “And I believe it worked, though I do not know what good it will do,” he said. He slapped the palms of his hands on his knees as if ready to stand. “Love makes people do foolish things.”

  Before he could say another word, I popped up from the sofa. “I have to go and stop Alex. Please, I can’t have him thinking the wrong thing.”

  Mr. B joined me and said, “I’ll go with you and vouch for you. I’ll explain everything. Alex is my friend, I didn’t do this to hurt him or you. I didn't know.”

  I nodded, but before we could take a step, a sharp knock on the door startled us both. Mr. B called, “Come in.”

  The housekeeper who entered could barely speak; her lips were pursed so tightly. “Your guests are waiting, sir. You must lead them in to dinner.”

  Mr. B turned to me. “I’m sorry, Chelsea, I must be a good host. Do what you must, but remember that you are still most welcome here,” he said, and strode off to join his guests.

  The housekeeper stayed behind a beat to glare at me, and it took all of my willpower not to let loose on her and tell her to mind her own business. I was angry at Mr. B too. He’d abandoned me to go to his dinner guests, and would most likely to be congratulated by his friends while I’d have to take the walk of shame through a firing squad of dirty looks and nasty assumptions. He might correct them, but he might not either. Alex was his friend, but I had the feeling the woman Mr. B wanted meant more to him than his friendship with Alex.

  I bit my tongue as I sidestepped the housekeeper. I hadn't done anything wrong, and I didn’t need to defend my actions to anyone except Alex. I couldn’t waste another minute. I had to find him and explain.

  “You’re supposed to be helping me serve,” the housekeeper said as I stepped through the door.

  The idea of facing tables full of speculating guests made me dizzy, but I refused to stop. “I have something I need to do first. Mr. B said it was okay.” Let her make of that whatever she wanted.

  I knew there was no way in hell Alex would be joining the guests for dinner. The look on his face told me he wouldn't be fit for polite company so, I headed outside. I darted out of the kitchen, across the marble foyer and skipped down the front steps of Mr. B’s palatial home. Far up the driveway, I spotted Al
ex’s long stride. I broke into a run to try to catch him before he reached his car.

  “Alex, please, wait!” I called.

  He spun on the driveway and glared at the small knots of guests that lingered over cigarettes. My heart fell. He wouldn't even look at me.

  When I reached him he said, “Please, don’t embarrass me any more than you already have. I know all of these people, and they’ve known my family for years.”

  The look on his face crushed me. I stared at the ground, the lump in my throat making it difficult to breathe, and too ashamed to look him in the eye.

  “You know Chelsea, I had you wrong from the start. I guess you’re not the woman I thought you were.”

  “That’s not true,” I said, too afraid, even for tears to start flowing. How was I going to make him understand what had happened?

  Alex turned and kept walking. I trotted along beside him trying to keep up, my spinning brain trying to find the words to fix this.

  “I’m not judging you, Chelsea. I get it. I sacrificed a lot for my brother. I’m just pissed at myself for making up a goddamn fairytale about us. It was right in front of my face, but I didn’t want to see what was really happening.”

  I stopped cold, my spine stiff with shock. “What do you think was really happening?”

  “You played a great part, so I guess some of it must be true, because when it came down to it you went with the money,” Alex said. He shrugged his shoulders, as if he didn’t care. “We had fun and I took it too seriously. I’ll get over it.”

  “Wha. . .what?” My heart was pounding. This wasn’t happening. He said it so casually, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion, and that hurt more than if he’d just yell at me, cuss at me, call me a bitch or something. At least then I’d know he felt something for me.

  “I’m not into complications. You know that,” he said. “Look, Chelsea, I’m glad you found a better job for better pay. Good luck.”

  I stopped walking and watched Alex disappear down the driveway. I choked on all the things I wanted to tell him, but I still kept my mouth closed. He’d said it again. He didn’t like complications. He’d edited our entire relationship together to come up with a simple explanation that made it easy for him to walk away. What could I possibly say to change it?