Chelsea's Twelve Days of Christmas

"I have no reason to lie, and the point of the game is to answer truthfully, is it not?" Harry asked sternly seeing her shattered expression. "Most of the drugs she took were legal, but they can be just as bad when abused. You know Riley. She is a party girl, and I think she felt stifled here. I don't attend big parties or host them, and that is where her gifts lie. I told you the truth. We were mismatched, and the drugs were the catalyst to admitting that."

"So your strongly against drug abuse of any kind then?" she asked, and he smirked and pointed to the table.

"Yes, I am," he said unequivocally as she potted the next ball. He saw her study the table and realised that she was finding her shots harder to make now, as none of his balls had been cleared and were blocking any direct shot from her. "That was impressive," he admitted as she potted a ball of a bank shot.

"Was it your mother?" she asked coming back to the bar for her drink.

"Was it my mother what?" he asked.

"Who abused drugs?" she added. "Kids of abusers whether it's alcohol, cigarettes or drugs usually grow up with a strong dislike of them or become addicts themselves. There doesn't seem to be a middle ground."

"Yes," he said without any humour. She put her drink down and went back to the table. Harry refilled her glass from the jug he'd made and turned to watch her.

"You do realise it will be me who breaks first next game," he said lightly.

"I never agreed to a second game," he looked up at him her concentration wavering for a minute.

"House rules, best of three, that way the odds are evened slightly when dealing with eight ball sharks," he said seriously. He watched her make an incredibly tricky shot and clapped his hands in admiration.

"Will you tell me what happened and why Lady Grey thinks your mother died of Breast cancer?" she asked.

"That's a big question," he seemed to consider her.

"That was a very big shot I just made," she countered.

He nodded and began to tell her about his mother. He was very strident in his defence of her and made sure she understood that until the fatal day he had never been affected unduly by her addiction. She was always loving and kind and supportive. She was a pillar of society and the pin-up girl for poise grace and charm. He explained Lady Grey's involvement in the cover-up of her illness and the reason for her death. He went on to explain how she had tried to take over his mother's role in both society and their family. The later had been rejected harshly by his father, and she had become vindictive and venomous threatening to expose the lies surrounding the death of the woman they had loved.

"I put up with her and go to all of her events and let her talk to me that way because it was important to Dad to maintain the fiction. I guess it's important to me too," he admitted. "You couldn't have known and I over-reacted when you subtly dismissed Lady Grey at the event the other night."

"Ah," she said finally understanding why he had acted so coldly toward her. "Surely no one would believe her after all these years; Celebrity tell all's are published every day and nothing ever comes of it after the initial media rant."

"That's exactly why I put up with her. I don't want even one media rant. I don't want anyone's memory tainted by some old crow who is just about to fall off her perch anyway," he said. "Sometimes it's best just to leave family skeletons firmly in the closet."

"Until there is only you who knows the truth," she said softly closing her eyes.

"Is that where your nightmares come from he asked?" and he could almost see a physical wall come back up between them as her face changed and she gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I don't believe you've potted a ball," she said lightly and stood moving back to the table to take another shot.

"It's coming," he warned, "Maybe not this game but the next game most certainly."

Chelsea only had one ball left, and it was in an awkward position. She stretched out over the table edge trying to position her cue as best as possible and heard him clear his throat making her look at him.

"I could watch you do this all night," he chuckled as she turned her head to look at him. "Who knew playing pool could be this arousing."

"You're trying to distract me," she murmured.

"Is it working?" he continued to chuckle.

"Maybe," she admitted. The potent drink and his openness in answering her questions making her more relaxed than she otherwise might have been.

She made the shot but sank the white ball in the same movement. He let out a whistling breath. "I didn't think I was going to get a shot in this game," he chuckled and put his untouched scotch on the bar. He picked a cue stick, he looked at the balls on the table and took an easy shot.

"Truth," he reminded her. "Why were you so surprised that Riley would be into the party drug scene?"

"We'd talked about drug addiction and how it affected not only the person but those close to them as well. I believed she was as anti-drugs as I am but perhaps she was just saying what I needed to hear," she mused. He'd been lining up his next shot as she spoke and took it as soon as she stopped.

"Why did you think it was what you needed to hear?" he asked.

"Drugs ruins lives," she looked at him not wanting to talk about how they had ruined her early life.

"That didn't answer my question," he said gently.

"Being involved with drugs ultimately killed my parents," she shrugged telling a partial if distorted truth. He could see her withdrawing back into her shell and he potted another ball.

"Mountain picnic or fish and chips at the beach?" he asked changing the subject abruptly.

"What?" she exclaimed startled by the change in question.

"If I asked you to plan a casual date for us what would you choose a picnic in the mountains or fish and chips at the beach?" He gave her a longer explanation seeing her drop the shell she had been building against questions about her parents.

"The mountain picnic," she said.

"Why?" he asked after potting another ball.

"I wouldn't have to compete for your attention with girls in bikini's," she grinned. "That's a no-brainer."

"You don't have to compete for attention," he said seriously.

"Not even if Marilyn Munroe was in the room?" she challenged.

"It's not your turn to ask questions," he bent to line up his next shot.

"Opera or musical?" he slammed the ball into the pocket.

"Musical," she answered unequivocally

"Museum or art gallery?" he kept the questions rapid fire as he brought the game even.

"Do I have to choose? Can I have both?" she said after some thought.

"It's not your turn for questions," he reminded her.

"We'll see about that," she put down her drink and walked over to the billiard table leaning on the edge opposite to where he stood to line up his shot. She bent leaning her arms on the table edge letting the satin and lace fall forward to show a full view of not just her cleavage but her unfettered breasts.

"That's hardly fair," he chuckled. "Maybe I will punish you tonight after all," he said with a smile to see if she would move. He waited a few moments before taking the shot and smiled as it went in.

"You seemed unsure when I asked earlier so, I'll ask again," he said walking slowly toward her. "Would you like me to punish you? If you are interested in a little bit of light BDSM, you don't have to push me to punish you, all you have to do is ask. I am more than happy to explore that with you if you trust me." He took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. "Do you trust me enough to surrender to me?"

At that moment feeling his arms around her and his lips on hers were exactly what she wanted. She just couldn't bring the words to her lips to say yes. Their argument after battling her feelings all day and then this, she closed her eyes trying to work out how to answer him.

"That was two questions," she said breathlessly opening her eyes to find him watching her with an intensity that made her knees weak.

"Choose one," his voice was deep and husky. "Tell me truthfully."

"I have been surrendering to you since my second day here," she whispered. "It scares me how much I want to." He pulled her tighter to him and pressed his lips against hers, feeling her melt into the kiss and his body. She'd had several drinks now, and he wouldn't take advantage of her or the admission she had made by delving into erotic pain and restraints with her tonight but his need for her was real, and he could feel it in her as well.

He continued to kiss her slipping the straps of her loose gown from her shoulders and lifting her to the end of the billiard table letting it fall to the floor. Without stopping the kiss, he kicked off his boxers and stepped between her thighs. Supporting her, he leant her back slowly and ran his throbbing hardness over her pussy ensuring this was what she wanted. She placed one hand against his jawline and whispered, "Please," into his kiss.

Unable to hold back he ploughed into her, supporting her weight with his arms as he held her in the perfect position at this height. Breaking the kiss, she reached behind to place her hands on the felt of the table to steady herself effectively thrusting up her breasts to him. Harry devoured a nipple, listening to her quiet whimpering moans of pleasure which fed his arousal. There was nothing soft or gentle in his movements as he pounded into her and bit at the soft flesh or her breasts before sucking and pulling on her nipples with his teeth. He ran a hand up her back into her hair and pushed her head forward to his, to swallow her exquisite sounds between moving from one breast to another.

The more he knew about Chelsea, the more he wanted her and if he was honest the depth of that want scared him as well. He had no way to know if she would stay with him once the contract ended. He felt her begin to tremble and he increased the force with which he thrust into her. He watched her expressive face for a moment, seeing her pleasure clearly and bent his head back to her breasts again.

When they came, he leant forward pulling her to his chest and wrapping his arms around her tightly, a loud groan coming from between his teeth as he clenched them feeling every pulse of his cock as her muscles milked the come from him. He held her like that until her shaking stopped and his breathing returned to normal. Then he picked her up and walked naked up to her room. Rather than leaving her there alone he climbed into the bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her.

He felt like they had overcome a big hurdle tonight and he didn't want her questioning it when she woke. Tomorrow, or today, he thought, was Sunday and they could both sleep in and have a lazy morning together to revisit what had occurred tonight.

"Harry," Chelsea said quietly in the darkness. "You don't have to stay," she breathed through a wide yawn.

"I know. Sleep now," he whispered stroking her hair.

*****

Chapter 6: Truth and Consequence

Chelsea woke with a dry mouth and fuzzy head. She had drunk far too much too quickly. She rolled onto her back and ran into the legs of Harry, who was propped up on pillows with a digital notebook on his legs.

"You're here!" she said startled by the fact.

"Good morning to you too," he chuckled.

"Shouldn't you be at work or something?" she said with a dry voice as she sat up realising she was naked beneath the sheets.

"I am working plus it is Sunday and as I recall even God needed a day of rest," he said in the same cheery voice. He'd slept briefly with her in his arms but had woken again early and convinced she was deeply asleep had gathered his notebook and some coffee before returning to the bed beside her.

"Urg," she groaned then swung her legs over the edge of the bed and padded to the bathroom, trying not to be self-conscious of her nudity in front of him. She showered and dressed the memory of the evening quickly returning. "Why did he have to be so nice to her? Couldn't he have just said no to the release and left her alone? They could have gone on as they were, having made her stand and said what she needed to about this being purely a business arrangement. Now she had confessed that she had feelings for him, feelings that scared her. She brushed her teeth and stared into the mirror wondering what had happened to the strong, confident woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it. The woman who had graduated a week ago from one of the most exclusive finishing schools in the country.

Harry had watched her walk to the bathroom with a smile. She was gorgeous in the morning with her tussled sleepy look. He heard the door slam and minutes later the shower start. She was a restless sleeper and while she didn't wake to scream from the nightmares he could tell her dreams were not pleasant. He wanted to know what caused them. He wanted to know about her past. He wanted her to trust him enough to answer his questions and talk to him about it, but he knew that she wouldn't, at least not yet.

As far as he could see, he had three options available to him. He could contact Isabella, who Chelsea had hinted knew everything about her and her former life or Riley for the same reasons. The third option was to get one of his investigators to track down all of the information he wanted, but that felt like a betrayal of what little trust he had garnered from her over the last week.

When she came out of the bathroom, she looked fresh and rested, and she disappeared into her wardrobe to slip on her exercise gear so she could go down to work out as she had done every other morning since being there.

"Breakfast?" Harry suggested.

"Mrs Baker makes me a smoothie to drink on my way down to the gym," she explained looking at him. "I can stay and eat with you if you like, though. Do you work out in the gym here at all?"

"When I have the time," he said standing from the bed. "You go if you like, we are having guests for brunch, so it'll be best to get your workout out of the way early if you feel up to it. It's Sunday however, so you could just have a day of rest," he suggested.

"A brunch wasn't on the schedule yesterday," she frowned and picked up her tablet. She had thought they would have a day free of engagements.

"A lot has happened between then and now," he said in an even voice and saw the expression on her face fall as she worried about her behaviour last night.

"You sounded like you needed a friend, so I have invited Riley and her fiancé over," he said softly watching her carefully for a reaction to the information. "I know how close you were at Innamorata. Riley mentioned you often."

"Why would you do that?" she said in an uncertain voice.

"Do what? I thought you would be happy to see Riley and have someone to talk to," he defended himself. "Isabella is coming too, later today," he added as if that made any difference.

"To arbitrate?" She asked

"I was hoping that wasn't going to be necessary this morning but if you insist, yes," he answered honestly.

"You invited them here for my benefit? On the only day of the week you have at home to relax?" She said it more as a statement than a question. "Why do you have to be like this, this isn't how it's supposed to be," she shook her head as if trying to dislodge an unpleasant thought. "This is a business arrangement, this isn't about caring and feeling and," she stopped short of saying falling in love.

"Yes, it's a business arrangement. We both bring very different skills to the table that the other person values and wants in a partner. That doesn't mean we live separate lives. It just means that we are more suited to a lasting and in time more involved relationship. We go into this with very real and achievable expectations. You can't live with someone and plan to have a family with them without some level of emotional attachment." He avoided the mention of feelings and love. "It would be impossible not to care about the person you are considering planning a future with."

Chelsea looked at him as if he had grown two heads. "This contract is for two weeks not a lifetime proposal," she almost yelled at him but managed to keep her voice low and steady. The idea of an arranged marriage had never included more than a mutually beneficial arrangement for her and whoever proposed the most appealing arrangement.

"Having spent time with me over the last week is that all you think this is?" he questioned with a frown.

"I know that's what this is. I signed the contract," Chelsea said dismissing his words with a shake of her head and sighed. "If you have invited guests to join us, I should go and workout now," she said feeling overwhelmed and in need of water if not food.

Harry watched her go. He'd known since day two of their arrangement that she would be the perfect fit for his life. Or at least he hoped she could be and was willing to take the risk and submit a proposal to Isabella. His history and the contract breaking incident with Riley had allowed him some leeway to use this two weeks as a testing ground before committing to a second proposal and the exorbitant fees that attracted.

He knew Chelsea needed to hear the whole story of their break up from Riley. Why he had been at her graduation, and why he had offered her the contract. These were things he knew Isabella couldn't tell her in the interests of fairness when handling and presenting all of the proposals Chelsea had received. Both he and Riley had agreed not to tell Chelsea anything, but in light of her meltdown yesterday he had revised that tacit agreement and made arrangements for both women to visit them today. They were also the key to her past that he needed to unlock to understand better why she reacted the way she had last night.

*****

"Still punishing yourself for things you can't control?" Riley asked walking into the gym.

"Oh God, Riley! I lost track of time. I'll run up and have a shower," Chelsea immediately put the small hand weights she was using back on the shelf.

"Slow down I'm early," Riley made hand gestures as if calming a skittish horse. "Gary is playing golf this morning, he'll be here in about an hour or so," she added.

"I'm disgusting, come up with me, we can talk while I shower and get changed," Chelsea insisted.

"Your fine for a few minutes, let's go out onto the jetty," Riley said sounding strange and making Chelsea look at her with concern.

"The river of sludge, do you think it was ever blue? It can't have always been this horrible brown, can it?" Riley asked.

"I imagine it was clear once, but it's a pretty big river, and we are close to the mouth of it so it may have always been a little murky," Chelsea said confused as to why they were having this conversation. She felt better from her workout and vowed never to drink that much again.

"Do you hate me?" Riley asked in a voice barely above a whisper. "Harry told me that you know why we broke up, well at least some of the reason," Riley said.

"I'm disappointed, and feeling a little betrayed, but I don't hate you," Chelsea said quietly. "I just don't get it, why would you do that?"

"You've lived with Harry for a week; he's Mr Perfect. I could never live up to his standards and expectations. There was so much pressure because I wanted to! I really wanted to," Riley said sadly. "I just needed something to take the edge off. One of the women at a luncheon could see how anxious I was and offered me a Valium, then someone at an event offered me a supplement when I was tired one night. It sort of snowballed from there. I never meant to keep doing it but it was just so much easier than dealing with the constant anxiety I felt," she sighed. "You know when you think just having one won't hurt you, that you're in control, but the reality is not quite so simple" her voice died off, and she looked at her best friend in the world.