Chelsea's Twelve Days of Christmas

Even now the threat to expose his mother as a drug addict and alcoholic were implied if he didn't support her favoured charities. She never maligned his mother, but she was not above mentioning her close friendship and history with his family if he attempted to decline one of her personal invitations to nights such as this. He knew that in this day and age it was no big deal, the rich and wealthy of the world did far worse than mix alcohol and booze. It was almost expected that there be some family scandal. He knew, however, that it had been important to his father and her remaining family that she be remembered as a true lady who worked tirelessly for many charitable organisations.

It was ridiculous he knew to have felt angry over Chelsea's attempt to dismiss the old woman. He had been giving in to her demands from the time he took over his father estate, and he knew the best way to handle the woman and her cronies was just to let them have their say and let it roll off him like water off a duck's back.

His first reaction had been anger and then he had worried about possible fallout from the vindictive old hag. Once he had calmed down in the solitude of his room, he replayed the conversation in his head and knew he owed Chelsea an apology for his moodiness. She had only been supportive. She had said nothing untoward and rather than being dismissive she had been pleasant in her discussion of her concern for the children left without a mother and how they must feel at an event like that.

It hadn't occurred to him until now, how bringing up the loss of her own mother may have affected her, and he felt some guilt about that. He wondered what the story was there. Her file listed both parents as deceased and no immediate family. That wasn't unusual for an Innamorata girl, but there was generally some explanation around this, not so with Chelsea's file and the intrigue surrounding this perfect seeming woman rose up again to make him even more curious about who she was and where she had come from.

He stayed with her until the first rays of the morning sun touched the sky and then he went to get ready for work.

*****

Chapter 4. Curiouser and Curiouser

When Chelsea woke in the morning, she had a vague recollection of Harry hovering over her in the early morning darkness, but she couldn't be sure if it was a dream or not. She followed her schedule during the day and found with his absence she was still unable to compartmentalise the feelings that had confused her the night before. He had texted her often throughout the day after apologising and reassuring her this morning which only managed to exacerbate her confusion and ill-feeling. As she went through the day, she came up with a plan that would help her straighten out her thoughts or end the contract and attraction between them one way or another.

When Harry returned that evening to collect her, she was ready and trying her best to be as she had always been with him. She knew she looked good and she was well versed in the charity event they would be attending. It was later in the evening she would discover what kind of a man he really was and hopefully be able to move forward.

Harry presented her with a small engraved golden egg, depicting the six geese and she thanked him without being overly effusive. Picking it up she realised it had a clasp and she looked at it curiously. He smiled taking it from her hand, he attached a house key to it and then attached it to the clutch purse she was taking with her tonight.

"You won't ever have to use it because there is always someone here," he said gently, "It's more symbolic." He hadn't planned to give her a key, but after last night he had felt it was a good way to reassure her of his ongoing affection for her. Her responses to his texts during the day had been short and polite without the usual banter they enjoyed, and he had worried that he had damaged their relationship more than she had let on.

She had held his hand and was as attentive and sweet, as she had been during the past week, playing the girlfriend role to perfection. Harry was stiff and formal throughout the night with not only the people at their table but also the people who came to speak with him. Rather than filling the void he left in the conversation Chelsea seemed quieter than usual tonight, and he became concerned. As soon as the majority of the proceedings were over, they left and returned home.

Harry had felt her distance herself from him if not physically on an emotional level, and he wanted to get her home to make things right between them again. Over the past week, he hadn't realised just how much he had come to rely on her running interference for him at these events and making them far more endurable with her quick wit and natural charm.

Like a coiled snake on the journey home, he began to unwind, and she could see him relax slightly in the seat beside her in the silence that usually accompanied their travel. As always he held her hand and walked her up to her suite. When they entered her room, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. She felt a passion and need in that kiss that she hadn't expected or wanted from him tonight and it took her a moment to adjust and melt into the kiss.

Harry felt her moment of uncertainty and broke the kiss looking into her eyes. There was so much about this woman that he wanted to know, that he needed to know and he searched her face looking for any clue that she may have been reluctant to continue enjoying their night together. She looked up at him through her lashes and smiled a small crooked smile. He groaned softly and kissed her again his hands moving to the back of her dress to undo the zip and expose more of her to his hands and eyes.

Her breasts had jiggled and swayed all night enticingly, and he had guessed they didn't have the rigid support of a boned corset, but his eyes widened as he revealed a simple beige coloured strapless bra. The panties were similar in colour with no real shape or support to them. This was not what he had asked her to keep in mind as she dressed for their evenings together and he considered her coolly as the dress fell to the floor revealing elasticated stay up stockings. At least she hadn't worn pantyhose he conceded. He didn't mind the underwear, but it was just that, simple underwear with no real appeal to it.

With the fee, he was paying the Isabella for the girlfriend contract this was inappropriate at best. Perhaps this was Chelsea's version of a tantrum for his angry dismissal of her last night. Perhaps she wanted to be punished for disregarding his preferences so boldly. She was expressionless as she looked up at him, seemingly unconcerned by his frown or his silence.

Chelsea knew she had taken a gamble. As the day had worn on today, she had thought about Harry constantly and the way he had made her feel, at first protective and caring of him and then rejected by his silent withdrawal when they returned home last night. She would never be the one to use the out clause, but he had a reputation for being a difficult man and being released by him though not pleasant or ideal would hardly damage her reputation, she had thought. She would be the perfect girlfriend in front of staff and at the events they attended together but on a personal level she needed to distance herself, and this was her way of doing it.

She had wanted to make him mad and have him punish her and not in a sexy bearable way as he had on that first night. She needed that in order to remember he was just like all the other people who had let her down and hurt her in her life. She needed to prove he wasn't a prince charming that she could live happily ever after with, no matter how shockingly quickly she had built feelings for the man. That was something only two other people had managed to do in the last decade. She had been continually horrified that it had taken less than a week for her emotions, which she kept hidden away from the rest of the world, to come to the surface and make her feel vulnerable again. She couldn't explain it, and she was a mess of confused anxiety for the first time in years.

He could see her becoming anxious as he let the silence between them continue. If this was a tantrum he was more than ready to punish her but he worried that it was more than that. He was concerned that it was a direct result of his reaction to talk of his mother or perhaps even bringing up her mother last night. He narrowed his eyes as in a moment of clarity he knew, given her reputation and her file that this woman would never throw a tantrum without some greater purpose. Did she want him to release her? Was she that upset by his mood the previous evening when they returned home?

"Did Trent have the afternoon off?" he asked in a deceptively mild voice.

"No Drake," she said honestly and cursed realising she had gotten someone other than herself in trouble. "I spilt my makeup on the one he chose for me, so I changed quickly at the last minute, he didn't know. I was in a hurry, so I chose without thought, I apologise." She made an excuse quickly without thinking it through.

"That's a lie," he stated. "Why would you lie to me?" Harry asked. He had learned very early in his career to see people's tells, the little gestures they made when not being truthful. "You are the furthest thing from a thoughtless woman. In fact, had that happened I would hazard a guess that you have replaced the corset with something similar. I am confused as to what you want me to do right now," he said in frustration as she didn't argue the accusation, instead remaining silent. "Do you have a masochistic streak that seeks punishment? If so all you have to do is ask and I will happily give you what you need, but I am not a sadist who would force you to it. Do you want me to punish you?" he had punished her the first night to show he could and would, he had no intention of making a habit of it.

"No Drake," Chelsea said uncertainly. She wasn't sure about her answer, and she frowned. She didn't believe she was masochistic but in a strange way she had been looking forward to the punishment she had been sure she would receive tonight by not considering his wishes and preferences in her dress and underwear.

"You don't seem so sure about that," he cocked his head inquiringly and saw the first sign of life on her face. He couldn't place it, and the new expression was there only fleetingly before the passive look took over again. "I don't actually mind your underwear," he said with a shrug. "It does nothing for your figure or my libido, but it's nice enough and looks comfortable." He watched her eyes widen in surprise for a moment and smiled. There was a lot going on beneath the surface of that beautiful face he just needed to find a way to reach it. "I'm not such a bastard I would punish you for choosing to be comfortable for one night if that was your motivation," he said giving her an out after her denial about wanting to be punished. He saw what he thought was fear briefly cross her face and he frowned. She couldn't possibly be frightened of him, could she?

"I'm sorry," she whispered. This scene had gone nothing like she expected and she was feeling overwhelmed by his questions and obvious concern as to why she had changed from the preferred style of dress he expected. Worst of all he knew she had lied about the reason, and she couldn't properly explain the real reason, even to herself. She wished he would stop being so nice about her mistake and punish her so she could stop feeling anything. Her head spun with mixed emotions, and she found herself wanting to cry.

"Tell me," he said softly moving closer to her. "What did you want to happen tonight?"

"I wanted to stop feeling. You make me feel," Chelsea blurted in an accusatory tone.

"I make you feel what?" he demanded in frustration. "Mad, sad, bad, glad?"

"Just feel," she said disgustedly and moved further away from. "This is a business arrangement. You pay me to be the perfect girlfriend. There is no need to be so nice and come in when I am having bad dreams to sit with me."

"The dreams were that bad?" he asked surprised that his being there had bothered her so much. He didn't deny that he had sat with her for hours last night. What had happened to this woman to make her so afraid of feeling something, anything for him?

"That's beside the point," she shook her head. "I did the wrong thing! I broke the rules! You can release me with a clear conscience." She said not exactly sure that was what she wanted from him at that moment either.

"You are right this is a business arrangement. One brokered by your patron and agreed to by both of us, so let me point out a few things if I may. You didn't leave on the first night when I punished you, and I have done nothing since that could be deemed as worse than that, or cruel or unreasonable, so your out-clause is not a viable option for you right now. You have no grounds to use it unless making you feel something for me is somehow some sort of mental abuse?" He paused giving her a chance to speak to his question if she wanted to but she merely looked at him with glassy eyes. "The only other way to break the contract is for us both to agree on release terms which I have no intention of doing." His voice rose on the last word making his point.

"Why not? I'm obviously damaged beyond repair despite Isabella's best efforts. Why not just cut your losses and save the exorbitant fee of having a crazy lady in your house for another week. I'm sure it will be less stressful, and there is no shortage of women lined up to date you, so not having me here will be no great loss to you," she said reasonably.

"You're wrong, it would be a great loss to me," he spoke softly and closed the distance between them again. "As we can't agree on that point there will be no release though I am happy to call Isabella in the morning ask her to arbitrate as per the contract guidelines." He reached out and took her hand gently. "Until then, however, I have a contract signed by you that says you will be my girlfriend for no less than a period of two weeks with all that entails. I expect that would cover makeup sex." He tried to lighten the mood between them.

He watched as Chelsea gasped in surprise and looked up into his face noting the teasing smirk that played over his lips. He had refrained from telling her that she had affected him equally in the short space of time they had been together.

"Don't panic," he said holding in a chuckle. "I'll settle for a goodnight kiss," he bent his head and brushed his lips over hers curling his arm around her waist and deepening the kiss when she didn't protest.

"Good night," Chelsea whispered when the kiss broke and moved away from him into her bedroom. He resisted the urge to follow her and went to his office leaving her to think about what he had said. He made two short but informative calls and made tentative plans for the following day.

*****

Chapter 5 Questions and Answers

He changed into a pair of boxer shorts and walked determinedly back to her room. As he had suspected, she wasn't asleep, and he stood silently in the doorway of her bedroom watching her cry for a few minutes suddenly unsure now of how to proceed. She looked up at him and dashed the tears from her face.

"Change your mind about the make-up sex?" she blurted.

"I'd never force you to do anything you didn't want to do. I can't sleep with things the way they are, and I don't like to drink alone so I thought the least you could do is come and keep me company," he said with more ease than he felt. "Have you seen my billiard room?"

"No, Drake," she snuffled and swung her legs over the edge of the bed coming to her feet. She could use a drink too she admitted if only to herself.

"Don't worry about a robe, it's too hot tonight, and no one will be awake, not that they would notice if we walked around naked," he chuckled in an attempt to show her that he was not angry or upset with her.

"Invisible staff," she nodded and followed him out of the room. He took her hand as they descended the grand staircase and went into a room that held a billiard table in its centre. Chelsea realised that the room was part library, part bar and part entertainment area with a widescreen television and comfortable chairs scattered around the edges of the room in small clusters. "It's like you've taken the best bits of a variety of clubs and bars and melded them into one room," she said liking the space and feeling far more comfortable with him here than in her suite.

"What's your poison?" he asked heading for the bar.

"I don't suppose you know how to make a fruit tingle," she said following him over to the bar area.

"As a matter-of-fact I do. Perhaps the fact that I dated Riley for a while has slipped your mind," he chuckled. Pulling out a bottle of vodka he began to make the drink she'd asked for in a jug so she could refill at her leisure if she wanted.

"What happened between the two of you, I can't imagine it was as simple as a mismatch," she refrained from adding that he obviously wouldn't release her as easily as he had released Riley if their story was true.

"Tell you what, let's have a game of billiards, for every ball one of us sinks the other has to answer a question truthfully," he challenged.

"You'll probably just kill me with cannons," she scoffed at the idea.

"You can have first go and don't pretend you're not a hustler. Riley was good but she said she had never beaten you," he said with a challenge in his voice.

"That was pool this is billiards, the rules are very different," she smiled sweetly.

"We can play pool, I have the balls for that," he chuckled making her raise an eyebrow at him. He was being overly nice considering the scene she had just created, and she couldn't work out why he wasn't angry with her for trying to goad him into releasing her.

"Well seeing as you have the balls for that," she agreed with a tight smile. She took the drink Harry passed her and waited while he poured himself a scotch and set up the table for a game of eight ball. She took her time to choose her cue carefully and placing her drink on the bar she moved over to the table to make the break. She sank two on the initial break and turned to face him. "Two questions or just one?" she asked with a head tilt.

"One," he said, and he held up a finger.

"The real reason you decided to release Riley?" she asked.

He considered her for a few minutes and wondered if she would use it as ammunition against him the next time she wanted him to release her from the contract. There was little she could do within a week, and if she were so inclined, then it would be over regardless of if it had come from this story or not.

"Everyone makes mistakes and when you're in a new relationship those often happen as you get to know each other," he began, watching Chelsea walk over to where he sat at the bar and pick up her drink. "The first time is always forgivable; the second time is a stretch; if it happens after that, it is a deliberate act to hurt the other person. Riley broke my trust on an important issue more than once."

Chelsea was a bit shocked by the admission. They had both seemed so fine with the breakup and had nothing bad to say, but this sounded like it hadn't ended well. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but he held up his hand to silence her.

"One ball one question," he pointed at the table chuckling as she walked over casually and potted another ball.

"The issue?" she asked directly.

"Drugs," Harry answered just as directly.

"She wouldn't!" Chelsea gasped. She had assumed Riley was as anti-drugs as she was. "I don't believe you." She said totally aghast that her friend would indulge in the drug scene. They had so many conversations about how drugs affected not only the person taking them but the people around them. Riley knew the devastating impact they had on Chelsea's life before Innamorata.