I See...Love (A Different Road Book 1) (8 page)

“River,” an unwelcome voice echoes between the walls in the hallway.

I freeze as the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I specifically ordered that Sebastien not be invited. My grip tightens on Joss’s thighs to the point I hear her intake of breath. Shit. I loosen my grip and give her a squeeze. I don’t mean to hurt her. She puts her hands on the center of my back and lifts herself up slightly to look at who is behind me.

“River,” a second, sultry voice of Fawn, coos down the hallway.

Fawn is just one of the women that I allow Sebastien to deliver to my house to release my tension. I am a man and I have needs. I will never have a relationship with a woman, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get what I need. Sebastien has supplied what I have needed since I was seventeen.

My late teenage years were a nightmare. I was angry at the world and everyone that lived in it. I was defiant and destructive. I couldn’t cope anymore and I didn’t know how to vent all of my pent up frustrations. One day Sebastien opened my bedroom door, and in walked a woman wearing way too much expensive perfume.

Sebastien said, “Fix him,” then he closed the bedroom door.

I’ll admit it, my dick instantly got hard the minute she was in my bed and her hands were on me. When she put her hands down my pants, I’m lucky I didn’t splooge in my underwear before she even got them off. She knew how to use her hands and her mouth and she took everything I had to offer her like a good girl. I went three rounds with her before she ran her index finger down my chest and said, “See you soon.”

The women that Sebastien brings are the only good thing he’s ever done for me. I don’t know if Sebastien pays the women he brings me, or if they do it just because it’s me they’re sleeping with. I’m guessing it’s the former, not the latter. I never had a say in the women he brought me in my teens and early twenties, and I frankly didn’t care as long as they took care of my tension. Now, I have a little higher standard and I’m more selective. Sebastien has them vetted, and then has them sign non-disclosure agreements threatening them with everything they have, then he introduces them to me for my approval. Right now, I have three regulars that are at my beck and call, Fawn is one of them.

My hand tightens around Joss’s thighs at Fawn’s sultry voice. How dare he bring her here when I have guests in my home? Sebastien and I have gone head-to-head lately and this…this he will have hell to pay for. I slowly slide Joss down the front of my body. I reach for her arms and wrap my fingers around her upper arm. I gently press her up against the wall and move my face up against the heat of her cheek.

“Don’t move,” I growl in her ear.

Josh briskly walks into the hallway and stands between Sebastien and me.

“I didn’t invite him, River. I’m sorry. I don’t know how he got in here. I’ll take care of it,” he says, putting his hand on my chest.

“What’s the matter good ol’ boy? You don’t want your Uncle Sebastien at your fancy party?” he drawls.

I take a step forward toward Sebastien, but Josh pushes harder on my chest.

“Not here,” Josh gently reminds me.

I have a house full of guests and this isn’t the place for a scene. Well, a second scene. I’m sure all the papers and tabloids will be talking about what I just did to Joss, they don’t need additional fuel.

“I need to get back to work,” Joss says, next to me. She moves away from the wall and a gentle breeze hits my side as she moves past me and down the hall.

“Hump,” Fawn sounds as Joss walks past her.

I push against Josh’s hand and lean in close to Sebastien.

“Get the fuck out of my house. You are not now, nor will you ever be, welcome to step foot into my house,” I tell him in a low voice.

The music coming from the surround sound in the house is turned up to help drown out our conversation. I don’t know who did it, but I secretly thank them.

“And you,” I say, to Fawn. “Your services are no longer needed.”

“But…” she starts to whine.

“I’m good enough to supply you with hookers, but I’m not welcome in your house?” Sebastien asks in a louder voice.

I clench my fists and zero in on Sebastien’s cigar smoking, raspy breathing. God, I’d love nothing more than to lay him out on his ass. I can’t wait to be rid of him in two years. As per my parents will, Stephen, Kate and I, don’t get our full shares of Mason Group until I turn thirty. Until then, Sebastien holds part ownership.

“These are called spaghetti and meatball,” Joss’s melodic voice tells a guest, just outside the hallway.

“They’re very ingenious. Are you available to cater larger parties? I’d like to throw my husband a thirtieth birthday party in six months,” a woman says to Joss.

My fists unclench and I control my anger at the sound of her sweet voice.

“Leave, now,” Josh tells Sebastien and Fawn.

“We’ll leave, but I’ll see you in your office Monday morning, River,” Sebastien says, then turns and walks away.

“But…” Fawn says as Sebastien drags her with him.

“Finish the party, and then get everyone the fuck out of my house by nine,” I tell Josh, then head to my bedroom.

I don’t think my ears hear right when River’s uncle says that he hires prostitutes for River. Then a woman asks what appetizer I have and if I cater larger parties. If I thought I could still keep all the potential interest in both personal chef and future catering parties, I’d pack up my shit and leave. The networking this party is offering, though, is phenomenal. I’ve secured two personal chef jobs and have three, now make that four, catering jobs lined up. Out of twenty guests, that’s astronomical!

After the scene River made by carrying me through the family room, a few guests high tail it out of there, and after the scene with Sebastien, even more left. Dang it, guests are leaving before I have the chance to get out the desserts. There are miniature cinnamon roll cheesecakes crying real tears in River’s kitchen right now.

River never makes another appearance after Sebastian and Fawn
leave. The remaining guests quietly whisper among themselves and stop whispering every time I approach with a tray. The last appetizer is taken from my tray, so I head back into the kitchen to refill it. Josh comes up behind me at the counter and scares the meatball right out of my hand.

“God, you’re just like River! You’re both ninjas!” I tell him, scrambling for the runaway meatball.

“Start serving the desserts now. River wants everyone out of his house by nine,” he orders.

I’ve never heard Josh order anyone around, so it takes me by surprise. I frown at the remaining beautiful appetizers on the counter, and then start to put the desserts on a tray. Nina heads into the kitchen with an empty tray just as Josh turns around to leave. Nina makes a fast pivot on her heal, and quickly exits again without any food. This night is so not going like it’s supposed to.

After the majority of the desserts are served, the remaining guests slowly start to trickle out. There are a few lookey-loo’s left, but I start to pack up all the leftovers in gallon sized zip top bags and put them in River’s refrigerator. While I work in the kitchen, Nina works the family room picking up discarded plates and cups. She still has yet to say a single word to me.

I wipe the counters and give one final look around to make sure everything is cleaned up, and then I grab the pile of my supplies off the counter and head out of the kitchen. I look around the family room for Nina, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I say goodbye to Josh, then head to my van down the street. Nina had to run out and park her van, but we usually try to park them as close as possible because it makes it easier to load after cleanup. But her van is nowhere to be seen. She left, and didn’t even say goodbye to me. I hang my head at my epic fail and head home.

When I get home, Nina’s van is parked in the garage and there are no lights on in the house. I park next to her and enter a completely dark house. Her bedroom door is closed, so I head to my own. After I brush my teeth and not wash my face out of defiance, because Nina is always on me to wash my face before I go to bed, I crawl between my sheets wondering how tonight went so wrong. I toss and turn for hours ending up being mad at Nina. She has no right to be mad at me and give me the silent treatment. I was trying to do something nice for her. I was trying to be the bestest best friend I know how to be. I eventually fall asleep determined to give her the silent treatment tomorrow morning. Shit, maybe even the whole day!

I wake up bright and early before Nina, and I don’t even take a shower. I toss my brown hair on top of my head in a bun, and grab my purse and canvas grocery bags. I don’t even make coffee. I’m determined to get out of the house and to the farmer’s market before she wakes up. Sunday is the only day we don’t have clients scheduled, but it’s also the day we usually go to the farmer’s market and the grocery store to stock up for the coming week. I tip toe to the door that leads to the garage just as Nina’s bedroom door opens. I quickly hit the button on the wall to make the garage door open.

“Joss! Wait! I need to show you something!” she yells, carrying her laptop as I close the door behind me.

She quickly opens the door behind me, but the garage door is already three quarters of the way open and I’m in the front seat of my van. I start to back out just as the door fully opens.

As I head down the street, Nina runs into the middle of the street waving her hands in the air. Well, I guess she likes the silent treatment as much as I do, serves her right.

I get to the farmer’s market and wonder what in the heck is going on. There are ten times the amount of cars parked on the streets than normal. Oh, I wonder if they got some big celebrity chef to do a cooking demonstration. Dang it! Why didn’t I hear about this? I grab my wallet out of my purse, the reusable bags out of the passenger seat and lock the van.

As I walk the side street toward the closed off street where the farmer’s market is, I suddenly feel like everyone is watching me, and I strangely feel like I’ve been dropped into an episode of House Wives of Los Angeles County. There are a lot of women standing off to the side all whispering and gossiping as I walk by. Oh, maybe they got some hot sexy chef or something. One points to something in a tabloid, then points at me. What? Do I have a big green booger on my face or something? Do I have on some recalled shirt that is infected with some deadly virus that I’m unaware of?

I start to grab ingredients and pay the different vendors. With my arms weighed down with gorgeous vegetables, I yet again wait in another line to pay for some drop dead gorgeous heirloom tomatoes. While waiting, I see the same tabloid the woman was pointing at earlier sitting upside down on the table. I look around to make sure no one is looking, and then I start to flip through the pages backwards. I don’t see anything that would cause the reaction I’ve been seeing. Thank God, I’m not wearing an infected shirt. Maybe I’m just imagining things. I flip the magazine over and have a mini heart attack. The bags on my arms slip off, and vegetables topple out and scatter in ten different directions. Plastered as big as can be on the entire front cover, is my ass hoisted over River’s shoulder when he carried me through his family room last night. Oh my God! Someone took a picture! And double, oh my God, they turned around and sold it to the tabloids! If that isn’t bad enough, in big capital letters on the top of the magazine it says, ‘A RIVER GONE WILD.’ Underneath that, it says, ‘Is River Mason’s private chef, Joss Meyer, his next concubine? See full story on page 13.’ Concubine! Who even uses that word anymore?