“Look, we can have the ending turned around within the week. If Jim can stick to a schedule, instead of his usual circus, the film can be done on time.” I was adamant. I wasn’t going to back down this time, like I always had before.
Staring at me with my crossed arms, my father didn’t look convinced. His eyes narrowed slightly and he lowered his voice a notch. “I backed you. See it through.”
My arms dropped to my sides. There it was. He’d put me in my place just like he always did, but today I wasn’t going to let it stop me. I had a project of my own. It burned with my own creative ideas, and gave me the gumption to be bold enough to ask, “Before you go, can we talk about the Indie project?”
The team had slipped out the conference room door and it was just the two of us left. Henry gave me a placating smile as if to avert any serious discussion of my ideas and steer the conversation back to his genius conceptions. “Did I tell you we secured April?”
“The blond from the sunken ship movies?”
“Exactly,” he said, smoothing down his suit coat. “People recognize her and your little project needs all the help it can get guaranteeing an audience.”
“She’s a terrible actress,” I protested, holding back from slamming my hands down on the conference table.
“She’s hot right now.”
“Oh, I get it. You think she’s hot.”
Henry laughed. “And what if I do? Just because you’ve been working too hard lately to notice the fairer sex doesn’t mean all of us have to live like monks.”
I furrowed my brows. Damn him. He was pushing all my buttons. “I’m not living like a monk.”
“Come on, Alex,” he scoffed, “you’re obsessed with work. You need an outlet.”
I'd predicted this conversation, and it was impossible not to smile to myself as I said, “Funny you should mention that. I went ahead and took a piece of advice I overheard from one of your other executive friends.”
My father had pulled his small calendar from his pocket. He examined it as if there were something very important on its pages. With his eyes on the calendar and an air of unconcern in his voice he inquired, “What advice would that be?”
The intercom buzzed and my secretary’s voice said, “Mr. Alex, your new employee has arrived at the airport. Your driver will take her to the house within the hour.”
“Thank you,” I said and gathered up my laptop.
“What new employee? What advice?” Henry asked again.
“You know, one of those websites that set up sugar daddies with a little summer treat. You’ll be happy to know your profile picture landed me a really tasty new live-in maid.”
Henry’s mouth gaped open as I sauntered to the door, glad my back was to him so he couldn’t see my wicked smile. I tossed over my shoulder, “Your friend, Albert, said he was really pleased with what the little college girl he got did for him until his wife came back from Europe…early.”
Working for my father wasn’t exactly a piece of cake. He always got what he wanted and flaunted what he had; everything from suits to cars to mansions and mistresses. Now, my little ruse would make it appear to everyone that he had to hire a woman. That he couldn’t get one on his own. For once I had the upper hand, the last laugh.
I shut the door behind me before I actually laughed though. The look on his face had been a priceless mix of embarrassment and anger. I definitely felt better.
Chapter Four
Chelsea
A tall man in a dark chauffeur’s uniform stood at the baggage claim area holding a sign that read ‘Chelsea Carerra.’ I rubbed my eyes. The flight had been long, more than eleven hours, and I was sure jet lag was getting the best of me. I’d just come through customs and my eyelids felt like bricks. If I didn’t know better I would’ve thought someone snuck sticky glue in them while I’d slept on the plane.
“I’m Chelsea Carerra,” I said to the man. He nodded and gave me a sharp dip of his matching uniform cap. “Do you need to see my passport or I.D.?”
“No, miss. Please, let me take your bag. This way,” he replied politely, his English heavily accented. He picked up my suitcase and strode through the busy airport without looking back to see if I was following.
Once outside, I was taken aback. I hadn't been prepared for the busy metropolis that met my eyes. I shook my head. I'd researched Holland and the city of Rotterdam on the Internet, but somehow, I'd still expected nothing but tulip fields and windmills.
When the man in the dark uniform stopped in front of a sleek black BMW. I looked around in disbelief. “I’m sorry, there must be some mistake. I’m here to work for Alex Silverhaus.”