Chelsea's Twelve Days of Christmas

"To show my appreciation for your tireless work, I've organised a special reward for quitting time, so you better start knocking this place down," he let the murmur run through the small group. "I'm not sure you're going to want to do it with a hangover tomorrow," a cheer went up, and he walked off the makeshift stage. He made his way toward where Chelsea stood with Stacey and curled an arm around her waist.

"Hey there," he murmured brushing his lips over her cheek. "Having fun?"

"I am indeed," she smiled.

"It's good to see you, Stace. Thanks for looking after my girl today," he leant in and kissed Stacey's cheek.

"It was a genuine pleasure. Chelsea was absolutely wonderful with the kids and guildsmen. I assumed she was a new P.R. manager for Drake Holdings she handled everything so well," Stacey was effusive in her praise of Chelsea as they talked for several more minutes.

"I'm sorry we can't stay for the party, but it's that time of year where everyone wants my time for something. I'm glad I came, though, it's great. You were the right woman for the job," he said with a wink.

"Like I had a choice," she rolled her eyes at him.

"Joey didn't give any of us a choice, but I'd like to think we would have done it anyway," Harry said seriously. "We'll catch up soon," he winked again, and she laughed moving to embrace him.

"I've given up believing that, but I am glad you were here today. Try and come for longer next time; Chelsea had fun, didn't you?" She insisted.

"I had a wonderful time, thank you," Chelsea agreed happy to have been part of the day.

"Tell the guys that there's a secret password on the mobile bar that arriving if they can work out what Joey would have called my girl," she grinned.

"That's too easy," she laughed.

"It was never meant to be hard for those that knew him," Harry chuckled and steered Chelsea toward the gated entrance and the waiting car.

"What would he have called me?" Chelsea asked as they walked.

"Poison Ivy," Harry said and turned to smile at her. "He had a real thing for the bad girls of Gotham, and I'm starting to see the attraction although I was more of a Jessica Rabbit fan when it came to red heads."

"But, I'm not really bad, I'm just drawn that way," she said in what she hoped was a deep sultry voice making him laugh whole heartedly.

She climbed into the car smiling at Thomas who held the door open for her. She told Harry about her afternoon as they travelled back together. She was glad to be going home as she felt the need to wash off the dirt and grime of the day.

Harry listened to her talk with enthusiasm for the children and people she had met. He knew from his childhood friends that she had handled herself and those people well. Once again he was impressed with her ability to mix with people from all walks of life and have them praise her in various ways. He was interested to see how she would deal with the beautiful A-list pseudo celebrities at the function tonight.

When they arrived back at the house, they went their separate ways to prepare for the night ahead. Rather than showering she stripped down to the corset and sponged down the visible parts of her body reapplying her body gel and noting the touch of sun she had received on her shoulders grateful that the dress she had chosen for tonight had quarter sleeves. She redid her make up before putting on the thigh high stockings and slipping the dress over her head.

Her hair had become a problem during the day, and she wrestled for a few minutes with the curl spraying an anti-frizz straightening product liberally on her hair. Frustrated she finally smoothed it as best she could into a chignon that she held in place with a diamante hair clip. She was pulling the shoes she had packed earlier from the carryall when Harry entered her suite surprising her.

"I'm sorry," she immediately apologised. Slipping her shoes on her feet and picking up the clutch purse she had packed that morning.

"No need to apologise," he said gently and closed the distance between them. His lips caressed her cheek as he held her to him briefly. "You look and feel beautiful," he murmured in her ear. Stepping back from her, he produced a small velvet box and opened it toward her so she could see the items inside.

"Two turtle doves," she said looking at the gold and diamond earrings he presented and putting her hand to the necklace she wore holding the partridge in a pear tree. Harry was pleased that she immediately understood and watched as her hands went to her ears and she exchanged the earrings as he held the box for her. The whole movement had taken mere minutes, and he snapped the box closed, and he threw it onto the bed.

Taking her hand, he led her down to the car and helped her in before walking around to the other side. It was as if she could sense the change in him to his more formal self and it made her consider him seeing the obvious change between the man she was beginning to know better and the stiff, formal man that was his public persona. Having seen him relaxed around his friends and the people who knew him well, she failed to imagine how Riley found him boring. He had a wonderful sense of humour when he let it show, and his friends were quite obviously fun to be around with him. Perhaps it was their pat answer for the broken engagement and neither had told her the truth of what had occurred between them.

Harry watched her as her expressive face showed she was wrestling with her thoughts. He wished he could dive into her brain and read them rather than having to ask and get an answer that left him feeling like he only ever got half of the story from her. She gave little of herself away as she adapted to her surroundings even her reactions to his demands seemed carefully rehearsed. She wasn't a simpering wet rag, but neither was she aggressive in the slightest. She had the uncanny ability to be able to pick her moment of when to banter with him and when to be quiet and accepting of his wants and needs.

He found himself wanting to know more about her than was in the file he had poured over during the last twenty-four hours after first viewing it at the ball. There was little about who she had been before joining Innamorata. Her past had been glossed over with logistical details such as birth date and location, education, and accomplishments. There was no real mention of family or friends, and that was where the real information about a person lay.

From the time they arrived at the gala night Harry had remained stiffly formal and though he chatted politely the relaxed man she had enjoyed getting to know over the last twenty-four hours didn't reappear, and she followed suit. Her manners were impeccable. She was never overly friendly, but she engaged with the people she met easily and pleasantly choosing to drink sparingly and maintain that air of aloofness Harry exuded. She wondered why he supported a foundation where he clearly didn't enjoy the other people involved in it.

Once the formalities of the evening were over, Harry began making his farewells to the people he knew, and they left the function as the party began to swing into action with a DJ opening up the dance floor. Harry held her hand, and she smiled at the large hand that held hers so gently. Thomas was waiting as they exited the building and she smiled at him as she climbed into the car. Harry climbed in beside her and immediately took her hand in his again.

She heard the faint buzz of his phone and looked over as he pulled it from his pocket while never letting go of her hand. She saw his frown and wondered who would be texting him at this time of night. They arrived back at the house and walked in together. There was a comfortable silence between them as they walked and she smiled as they got to her suite and turned her face up to his as he paused at the door.

"I'm afraid I have some urgent business to attend to that can't wait until the morning," he lowered his head to kiss her softly. "Sweet dreams Chelsea."

"Don't work too hard," she advised. "I will see you in the morning." She leant up and kissed him again before disappearing into her room.

*****

The following days settled into a pattern where she woke and had breakfast. Harry was rarely there at breakfast, and after her workout, she spent her days with Trent, who shopped with her and helped her research the various events she would attend.

Chelsea found herself looking forward to spending time with Harry each evening. His stiff, formal persona when he was at public events was, she had realised a mask he wore and expected her to wear when she was with him outside of this house. When they were alone, and he relaxed taking off the mask that the outside world saw, she found him engaging on many levels. The constant banter between them showed a similar sense of humour and they enjoyed similar books and movies that they drew on for witty quotes.

He expected her to act like a lady and treated her like a princess, even during sex he never cursed or treated her as anything less. He would fuck her hard and use every hole her body had to offer, but the need and pleasure were mutual. He never forced her beyond her limits, and she found she often urged him to be rougher and more dominant with her.

On Friday evening he walked into her room with a smile carrying a black velvet box as he had done every evening since her arrival. She touched the necklace at her throat as he opened it and looked at it curiously. She wasn't sure exactly what it was. Two flowers made of five gold rings looked back at her from the box. They had no pin or clasp that she could see and she wasn't exactly sure what they were for.

"This one you only get to show off to me," he said his mouth twisting into the smirk she knew well now. "If you'll allow me a moment to show you?" he asked.

"Of course," she nodded. She stood still as Harry reached behind her and undid the zip of her dress confusing her further. The bodice of the dress dropped from her shoulders exposing the top of the corset she wore. His hand dipped into the bra and pulled one of her breasts free of the fabric cup.

Harry smiled as he picked up one of the flowers then he bent his head to suck on her nipple pulling back and scraping his teeth over the small pink bud. He then lay the centre ring over her nipple and pushed it into place so that the outer rings lay flat on her areola. It looked even better than he had expected when he had designed it, and he repeated the process on her other nipple.

"These give you an automatic upgrade to incredible," he chuckled and kissed the tip of each one before standing back to look at them.

"Perhaps I should put these away until later," she laughed and began redressing herself, "We might not make it to the event otherwise."

"Spoilsport," he murmured moving behind her to redo her zip.

"You don't think it's a little cheeky for me to be wearing these to a charity event for breast cancer," she asked?

"Not at all. Tonight is about saving breasts, celebrating them even. Yours are magnificent and the only people who know about the adornment I gave them tonight are you and me, unless you are planning on showing them off to someone else tonight," he said raising an eyebrow at her.

"No, I don't think I will be doing that," she laughed.

The evening was a sombre event, and Harry seemed particularly reserved. His stiff formalness bordered on being abrupt and confused by his mood Chelsea became overly sweet and almost apologetic to the people who sat with them at the table during the dinner and speech part of the evening.

It was late in the evening when a lady of advanced years approached them and began to talk about his mother's battle with cancer. She told Chelsea how proud she was of his commitment to finding a cure and funding palliative care centres that allowed young mothers to spend their last days with their families while still receiving the treatment and care they needed.

As if the pieces clicked together she understood why he had held himself together so tightly throughout the evening. This charity was obviously very close to home for him and something he cared about deeply. She reached over and took his hand trying to convey her sympathy and understanding for his pain. Then she spoke to the lady in question in an attempt to steer her from her chosen subject.

"Did you know Jane McGreggor? I hear she was a remarkable woman," Chelsea asked as the woman paused for breath.

"No, I never had the pleasure," the woman fixed Chelsea with a cool look.

"I believe her children are here tonight, but I haven't met them," she looked around the room feigning curiosity. "I lost my mother at a young age too, not to cancer but I feel for them. It's never easy growing up without a mother. It must be terrible to have to relive that loss every year like this," she said pointedly. "I'm always unsure in such situations whether to mention it or not. There are always times throughout the year where the memory is more painful than others and with the holidays approaching it must be hard for them."

"Of course," the woman nodded. "The poor children, still they have their father despite his moving on so quickly." She didn't hide her disapproval. "Just like poor Harry here, when his gracious mother left us."

"Do you know them?" Chelsea asked Harry innocently. "Perhaps you could introduce me. If Lady Grey doesn't mind us leaving her to socialise with others in the room."

"Of course dear, it would be rude not to speak with them if you can," the woman agreed.

"Not personally but I do know someone who could make the introductions," he answered shortly. "If you would excuse us, Lady Grey," he performed the slight bow Chelsea had not seen in two days and led her away.

They headed toward the small crowd that surrounded the McGreggor family, but he steered her past them to the far side and toward the wide doorway. He pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed several buttons before replacing it. By the time they had made it down in the elevator and out onto the street, Thomas was there waiting for them and opening the door for her.

"Just to be clear my mother did not die from breast cancer, and that stupid old battleaxe is not someone I am happy for you to associate with," Harry said sternly into the dark silence of the car as they travelled home. Chelsea looked at him but said nothing nodding her understanding. She had never heard him disparage anyone before and she found it bothered her. She squeezed his hand in a gesture of support, and he turned toward her an unreadable expression on his face, and she wondered if he was angry with her. He looked as if he might say more but turned to look out of the window withdrawing his hand from hers for the first time she could remember.

When they arrived home, he walked her up to her suite but rather than entering with her he bid her goodnight and left her alone and confused by his mood. She walked into her room wondering what had just happened. He had seemed tense the whole evening, and she had felt protective of him in the face of Lady Grey. She had been concerned about his silence on the way home. More than concerned and she found her emotions about his actions since leaving the event far too raw. She scolded herself and reminded herself that this was just an arrangement. That was all she had wanted for her life. An arrangement where she would never have to worry about being betrayed or let down because she would never allow herself to become so emotionally invested that she could be hurt again. She was stronger than that and wasn't about to let herself cry because he didn't hold her hand or kiss her goodnight.

She undressed slowly and slipped on a soft lace nightgown. She'd committed to this time with Harry and although she knew there was an out clause in every Innamorata contract girls who used them gained reputations for being difficult or worse and that was not what she wanted. She had worked very hard to gain the reputation she had as the best of her class, and she didn't want it ruined by leaving because the thought of developing feelings for Harry scared her.

It was wrong to blame him, she acknowledged as she stared up at the ceiling seeking the elusive point of sleep. The way she felt around him scared her more than she wanted to admit. The memory of deep constant heartache rose up in her to mix with the emotional end of her night with Harry and tears filled her eyes. She never wanted to be in a position to feel that desperately vulnerable or inconsequential again. She had never wanted to give anyone the power to hurt her so badly ever again. Yet, here she was crying and confused after being with Harry less than a week.

She breathed deeply going through her relaxation exercises. It was just that she was tired and confused, she told herself. Harry meant nothing more to her than a man who could offer her a start to a future where she wouldn't have to worry ever again. A future where if everything fell apart she could rise above it all and still live the life she wanted not one forced upon her.

She continued to self-talk and strengthened her resolve to be the perfect girlfriend for Harry while she was here without any real emotional involvement. This life was what she had been working towards for years, and if she could get through this contract, she could take one of the offered proposals that Madame Isabella had told her were waiting for her when she returned and have a life of comfort and security. She fell into a fitful sleep as images of Harry merged with figures from her past confusing her feelings even further and adding the nightmares that plagued her.

*****

Harry entered her room in the small hours of the morning. He was unable to get her out of his head. The look of sadness on her face when he had said goodnight haunted him but at the time he had been angry and unable to see it for what it was. He stood at the end of her bed and watched for long minutes as she tossed restlessly in her sleep. He could tell by the crumpled tissues in her hand that she had been crying and he knew he had caused those tears. He had been angry when they returned home, and he did not trust himself with her willingness to accept whatever punishments he decided to mete out. He didn't want to push her too far or too hard and have her leave him before the contract's end.

Once again he considered the cause of her tears. Guilt stung him for his dismissal of her tonight, and he felt an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and make soft, gentle love to her, but he was loathed to wake her. He enjoyed watching her like this wondering what filled her mind and her dreams to make her so restless in her sleep. He saw her eyes flicker open and her head turn toward him, and he froze where he was.

"Harry?" she questioned in a sleepy confusion.

"Yes, I just came to check on you," he admitted walking around to sit on the edge of the bed. "Sleep," he murmured and smoothed her hair. "We can talk in the morning," he whispered watching her heavy eyelids close again. He stayed long after she had gone back to sleep smoothing her hair and watching as her dreams made her start to toss and turn again.

He had been angry that she had assumed him so fragile that he needed rescuing from Lady Grey's rudeness. He wasn't a kid who needed saving from the big mean old ladies of the world anymore, especially that cruel and malicious woman. His mother hadn't died of breast cancer although that was the official line. Prescription pills and alcohol had killed her in the end with an overdose she had never recovered from.

Lady Grey had been her closest friend and confidante during the years before her death, and the woman had been vitriolic about his father's handling of the whole affair. For Harry as a young boy, he only saw what he wanted to see. His mother had been his world. Beautiful and loving she had been the perfect mother. Her depression and addictions had never touched him. As he grew older, he could see her struggle and the campaign Lady Grey had waged against his father, who she blamed entirely for his mother's addiction and ultimate death. The woman had hounded his father until his death forcing herself into his social circles, she and her cronies had made his life a nightmare for many years.