Emma Darcy - The Master Player

She didn’t answer.

Max felt tension seizing him again as he waited. He couldn’t force her to agree with him. She had to want to. He couldn’t see her face, didn’t know what was going through her mind. Her marriage was dead. She shouldn’t be worrying about what Tony thought. Or what her mother thought. She now had her own life to do whatever she liked with it. Surely she would choose to spend as much time with him as they could arrange. No way would he accept remaining her secret lover! It was too limited!

Chloe’s mind was in turmoil. It was a daunting prospect, being publicly linked to such a powerful man, being labelled his new paramour, which would inevitably raise speculation on how long this liaison would last, given Max’s reputation for moving on. On top of that, despite the lapse of time since her separation from Tony, her relationship with Max could still be viewed as scandalous. The paparazzi would be all over every appearance they made together.

She shrank from having to face it, wishing they could still be lovers in private. These past two months had been heaven, so easy…

Easy.

The word mocked her, instantly accusing her of sliding back into her old mindset. She’d just made a stand with Max over not taking the easy path of staying with him here. Not only that, at the beginning of their affair, she’d insisted they not appear in public together until the show was wrapped up for this season and she had a place of her own. As he’d just pointed out, that time was almost up. Backtracking on her word, denying him what he wanted when he’d given her so much was simply not on. Besides, she knew she would crave his companionship, in every sense.

So what if it wasn’t easy going public!

She’d have Max at her side.

That was more important to her than anything else.

Having him.

She lifted herself up from his chest to smile that assurance at him. ‘I will be very pleased to go out with you, Max,’ she said, secretly wanting far more from him than she could ever ask or expect-like having this amazingly wonderful man with her for the rest of her life.

‘Good!’ A smile of satisfaction spread across his face.

Chloe told herself to be satisfied, too. The experience of Max had already changed her life for the better. She would always be grateful he had stepped into it…even when he stepped out of it.

ON the Saturday before the last week of shooting the show, Chloe finally found a place she was happy to rent. It was a small terrace house, situated on a street that ran parallel to Centennial Park. She didn’t care that it was old and in need of some modernisation in the kitchen and bathroom. It was functional-two bedrooms upstairs, enough living space downstairs, with a small, enclosed backyard so that Luther didn’t have to be kept inside all the time-and being right across the street from the park was ideal. It was also close to the shops she knew from living at Randwick.

It was a huge emotional wrench, leaving the children’s house, saying goodbye to the three E’s, who had contributed so much to her comfort while she was staying there, moving away from the daily intimacy with Max. She was glad to have Luther’s company, staving off the loneliness she might have felt, though she occupied herself very busily during the first week after the move, arranging her belongings in her new accommodation, acquiring the furniture she needed, having a dog door inserted into the door to the backyard and teaching Luther how to use it.

Max dropped by most evenings to see how she was getting on, bringing her flowers and gourmet treats from Elaine’s kitchen. They invariably ended up in bed together, which was the best treat of all to Chloe. He only had to look at her and her whole body started buzzing with anticipation for the sexual connection between them.

Sometimes they didn’t make it upstairs to the bedroom. Like when he brought her a bunch of the most gloriously scented yellow roses and he took the one she’d held up to her nose and caressed her skin with it; her cheeks, her neck, down the V-neckline of her shirt, undoing the buttons, brushing it over the swell of her breasts…he’d hoisted her up on the kitchen bench and had incredibly erotic and exciting sex with her there.

He was a fantastic lover. Chloe had a losing battle on her hands, fighting to keep him at any distance from her heart. He made her feel so beautifully loved, so wonderfully cared for. Had he treated all the women in his life like this, or was she more special than the others? He’d said she was special. The tantalising question was how special? Enough to want her with him for the rest of their lives?

They started going out together. They went to parties, to charity functions, to the theatre, ballet, opera, walked the red carpet together at a film premiere. They were the talk of the town-the television baron coupled with the star of his latest hit show. Max handled the red-hot interest with practised ease. Chloe simply glowed her pleasure in his company. It wasn’t difficult. She loved being with him and didn’t care what anyone else thought.

However she did refuse one request from him, that she hostess a dinner party at Hill House. Somehow that was too much like being a pseudo-wife. Fulfilling that role was too close to her secret yearning to be his lifetime partner. She wouldn’t let herself pretend. She was finished with pretence.

In fact, she shied away from returning to Hill House at all, knowing it would tug at her heart, make her wish it was her home. It had been hard enough to leave. She didn’t want to feel that wrench over and over again.

Max grew frustrated by her turning down his invitations to join him there. ‘You liked Hill House. You liked the three E’s. They liked you. They miss you, Chloe,’ he argued.

He didn’t say he missed her. Max wasn’t into revealing any weakness in himself. There were no cracks in his self-contained armour. She had to learn to be self-contained, too. ‘It’s your home, Max. I don’t belong there,’ she quietly asserted.

He frowned. ’You don’t have to belong. What’s wrong with visiting?’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t go back. I have to move on in my own way. You see me as much as you like, don’t you? We go out a lot together. Doesn’t that satisfy what you want from me in our relationship?’

He stared at the appeal in her eyes for long, nerve-tearing moments. ‘Your choice,’ he finally said with a grimace that seemed to mock himself.

Much to Chloe’s relief, he didn’t raise the issue again. He arranged dinner parties at restaurants. She didn’t mind being his partner on these occasions. It was not the same as being his hostess at Hill House.

The rest period before shooting the next set of episodes for the show was almost up when Chloe received an unexpected and highly unwelcome visitor at her terrace house. It was a Monday morning and she’d just done a load of washing and was about to have a coffee break when the doorbell rang. Luther raced down the hallway, barking at the noise. Probably a delivery person, Chloe thought-Max sending flowers. Nevertheless, she took the precaution of looking through the peephole in the door to check.

Her heart instantly contracted with shock.

Laura Farrell was on her front porch. She was standing side-on, the baby bump clearly visible, outlined by the formfitting grey skirt and grey-and-white top she wore. Her long brown hair fell lankly forward, hiding much of her face. Her shoulders drooped. As Chloe was still coming to terms with the identity of her visitor, Laura turned, reaching out to press the doorbell again, her face devoid of make-up and her amber eyes leaking tears.

Chloe jerked back from the peephole, her mind reeling with confusion as well as shock. Why would a weeping Laura Farrell come to her doorstep? She couldn’t possibly hope to be rehired as a personal assistant after such a flagrant betrayal of trust and the vicious verbal attack at the launch party. What on earth did she expect to gain by coming here? Forgive and forget?

Not in a million years, Chloe thought as the doorbell kept ringing, sending the message that Laura Farrell was not about to give up and go away. While part of her inwardly recoiled from facing the woman again, another part insisted on putting a decisive end to whatever was on Laura’s mind-affirmative action. She was no longer the old Chloe who had been brainwashed into avoiding any form of confrontation. She’d learnt how to handle a lot of things since being with Max.

Luther was barking his head off. She bent and scooped him up in her arms to calm him down, then opened the door, intending to tell Laura she was not welcome in her home.

‘Thank God you’re here!’ Laura cried in pathetic relief, her hands jerking into a trembling gesture of appeal. ‘Please, Chloe, I have to talk to you. I have no-one else to turn to. Tony…’ She broke into sobs, covering her face with her hands, shaking her head in anguish.

Chloe didn’t want to be moved by the other woman’s distress. What happened between Laura and Tony was their business, not hers, and she certainly didn’t want to be involved in it. Yet it seemed too cruel and callous to send her away in this state.

‘You’d better come in,’ she said reluctantly, standing back to give her entry.

‘Oh, thank you, thank you,’ Laura babbled brokenly.

Luther barked at her as she stumbled into the hallway, instinctively picking up Chloe’s dislike of the situation. He started to wriggle in her arms, wanting to get down and check out this visitor to his satisfaction, but Chloe held onto him until she saw Laura seated at the dining table and fetched a box of tissues for her to mop up the tears.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she asked, knowing it was Laura’s preferred drink.

A nod as she snuffled into a tissue.

‘I’m letting my dog go now. He’s sure to sniff around your feet. I’d advise you not to kick him,’ she warned.

‘Wouldn’t do that,’ Laura choked out.

Chloe released Luther, who instantly did as expected. Leaving the little terrier on guard duty, she went to the kitchen, made Laura a cup of tea and herself a coffee, and took them to the dining table. She sat across the table from her ex-personal assistant, who had assisted herself to her employer’s husband, waiting for her to be composed enough to speak.

Laura finally raised a woebegone face and in a despairing voice, said, ‘Tony has abandoned me. Even though I’m having his baby, he won’t give me any support.’

Chloe was shocked to hear this. Despite his lies and infidelity and the nasty burst of temper that had lashed out at Luther, she hadn’t thought him a complete and utter rotter.

‘I can’t get another job. No-one wants a pregnant P.A.,’ Laura wailed. ‘I need help, Chloe. I can’t manage having a baby without help.’

Lots of single mothers had to manage by themselves, Chloe thought, and Laura was definitely not a helpless kind of person, but maybe she was floundering in a trough of depression and couldn’t see a way forward. ‘Do you want me to speak to Tony about this?’ she asked, thinking Laura had one hell of a hide to want that from the injured wife.

She shook her head. ‘It’s useless. He’s furious that I told you, won’t have anything to do with me. Or the baby.’ Tears welled again. ‘I’m sorry I told you the way I did, Chloe, but I was so upset, so madly in love with him, I was out of my mind that night. He was my baby’s father and all I could think of was he had to break from you and marry me.’

Despite the offence to herself, Chloe couldn’t help feeling a little tug of sympathy. The baby did make a difference. Although Laura shouldn’t have been having an affair with Tony in the first place.

And she knew it, immediately trying to justify it, her whole body leaning forward in an appeal for understanding as she rattled on. ‘I tried not to fall in love with him. He was your husband and on every moral ground he was out of bounds to me. I truly struggled against the attraction I felt, Chloe, but he sensed it and played on it. I liked working for you. I didn’t want to give up my job, but I was terribly drawn to Tony and one night when I’d had too much to drink, he seduced me into bed with him. I’m as much a victim of his charming ways as you are. I thought he really did love me and his marriage to you was just a sham to further his career. I’m terribly sorry you were hurt but at least now you’ve got Max Hart so you’ve moved on and up.’

‘I’ve certainly moved on but divorce brings everyone down and having Max as a friend does not mean I’m up,’ she sharply corrected her.

‘More than a friend surely,’ she snapped back, an envious flash in her eyes.