42

The atmosphere had barely settled after the dining room skirmish before the large front doors groaned open again. Chase walks in with Monica.

Richard was still in the hallway, a glass of usual drink in his hand, his mind still reeling from Giselle’s cold exit. He looked up, his eyes darkening as Chase marched in, softly dragging Monica by the arm.

Monica was dressed in a cocktail dress exposing all her contours, her chin tilted up in a desperate attempt at a warm smile but failed woefully.

"What is this?" Richard’s voice was a low rumble. "Chase, what on earth would possess you to bring this woman into this house? Have you lost every shred of your mind?"

Chase stopped in the center of the floor, puffing out his chest. "It’s also my house, Dad. And I’m a man with desires and needs. Considering the fact that I have an estranged relationship with my soon to be Ex wife, Monica is exactly what I need to get by. She’s staying here."

"You will not turn this house into a brothel," Richard hissed, stepping forward. "I told you before, as long as Giselle’s lives is in these halls—"

"Oh, let him, Richard."

The voice came from the top of the staircase. Giselle was leaning against the banister, looking down at the trio with an expression of bored amusement. She began to descend, her night robe trailing behind her like a regal shroud.

Just how many minutes ago, she was dressed in a pleasant floral dress and now she changed into a beautiful night dress, "What are you up to Giselle?" Richard said in his mind.

"Giselle," Richard breathed, his eyes momentarily softening before hardening again.

"My husband deserves to be happy," Giselle said, her voice dripping with a sarcasm so intense it was almost palpable. She reached the bottom step and circled the couple like a predator inspecting a particularly uninteresting piece of prey. "He’s a man of needs, Richard. Can’t you see how much he’s struggling?"

Chase glared at her. "I don’t need your permission, Giselle."

"I’m not giving permission, Chase. I’m only giving a suggestion," Giselle countered. She turned to Richard, ignoring her husband entirely. "Let him move his plaything into one of the guest houses in the East Wing. It’s far enough away that I won't have to hear the... desires... he’s so worried about."

"Plaything?" Monica snapped, her voice high and brittle. She stepped out from behind Chase, her eyes flashing. "I am not a plaything, honey. I’m the woman who’s been keeping your soon to ex husband warm while you were busy playing the dumb victim."

Giselle finally looked at Monica. It wasn't a look of anger; it was a look of profound pity. "Honey? Please. Save the pet names for the help. And Chase, if you’re going to insist on this arrangement, make sure she keeps to herself. I don’t want to go looking for my personal belongings and find them in her clutches."

Monica’s face went white, then a violent shade of red. "Are you trying to call me a thief? Is that what this is?"

Giselle tilted her head, a small, cruel smile playing on her lips. "Maybe. I mean, you’ve already tried to steal my husband, and the life you have now which you know doesn't belong to you. Small trinkets would be a natural progression, wouldn't they?"

"Chase!" Monica shrieked, clutching his arm. "Are you hearing this?"

"I asked you a question, Monica," Giselle said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Are you a thief? You succeeded in bagging Chase, whats a few jewelries you cant add in that baggage?."

"Stop referring to me like an item. Monica is not a thief!" Chase roared, stepping between them. "She is my partner. She’s my soon-to-be wife once I get you out of this house!"

"Soon-to-be?" Giselle laughed, a short sound that echoed off the floor. "Chase, I don’t care. You could marry a circus monkey for all it matters to me. But while you’re spending 'quality time' with your little friend, remind her that she is a guest. A second-class guest."

Monica’s ego was visibly bruised, her shoulders slumped under Giselle’s effortless ridicule. She looked around and was embarrassed at the side stares from some of the servants, she tried to hide her shame with a smile but it wont change the fact she was being treated like a stray cat brought in from the rain.

"The guest room is down the hall and to the left," Giselle said, gesturing vaguely toward the shadows. "It’s drafty, and the mattress is a bit firm, but I’m sure you’re used to roughing it."

Without waiting for a response, Giselle turned on her heel. "I’m going to the garden. The air in here has become quite... foul."

She strutted away, her head held high, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.

Monica turned to Chase, her eyes welling with tears of pure rage. "Are you just going to stand there? Are you just going to watch that bitch insult me in front of your father? You said I would be the queen of this house!"

Chase looked at his father, who was watching the scene with a mixture of indifference and dark fascination. He looked back at Monica, feeling the helplessness of his own failure to defend her.

"Just ignore her, Monica," Chase muttered, grabbing her bag. "She’s just bitter. Come with me."

"I am not ignoring it!" Monica hissed, her voice trembling. "She treated me like trash, Chase! She called me a thief!"

"And you’re acting like one by making a scene," Richard interjected. "If you’re going to stay here, do as my daughter-in-law said. Stay in the East Wing. And if I find you wandering near the master suite, I will have security escort you to the curb myself."

Richard didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and walked toward his study, his mind already drifting back to the garden where Giselle was currently walking.

Monica stood obviously drenched with embarrassment, her expensive heels feeling suddenly very heavy. She looked at Chase, who wouldn’t meet her eyes.

"I hate her," Monica whispered, her nails digging into the leather of her clutch. "I’m going to make her regret every word."

"Later, Monica," Chase sighed, pulling her toward the stairs. "Just... later."

Outside, in the moonlight and fresh garden, Giselle stood among the white roses, breathing in the scent of damp earth and blooms. She was feeling all type of way, a bit of confusion about the conflicting emotions rushing through her upon seeing Chase with the other woman and she did all she could to stop herself from crying.

“You have to be strong Giselle” she said under her breath. “You have only just begun”