Secrets in the Ashes: Fragments of Desire

Chapter 5: Dinner Party

Luckily, the dinner party that Olly had planned for tonight was a small one. I wasn't sure that I had the nerves or the energy to cook for one of his larger parties.

After a small nap, I dressed for company and applied a small bit of makeup. No sense in caking it on just to sweat it off in the kitchen. When I was done, I headed down to the kitchen and began pulling out all of the vegetables that needed chopping and dicing.

"You look sharp," I said to Olly as he waltzed into the kitchen wearing a dark navy suit. He wore a crisp white collared shirt under the unbuttoned blazer with no tie.

He did a smooth little spin on the tile and shot me a dazzling smile. "How's dinner coming along? Did you need help with anything?"

"I don't trust you with a knife after the last time you insisted on helping me prep. You go sit down away from the cutlery and wait for your guests like a good host."

He rolled his eyes but grinned. "It was only a small cut, it didn't even hit bone."

"You bled all over the French bread and into the glaze, we had to throw the whole dish out."

He laughed but pursed his lips and nodded his head. "Okay, okay. You're the chef. I'll get out of your hair."

"Thank you," I nodded as I put the knife down and pulled my hair up into a delicate yet messy bun.

I heard a pleased humming sound and glanced over to Olly who stood in the doorway, staring at me.

"What?" I asked with a curious smile as I picked up the knife and began attacking the potatoes once more with careful precision.

"I just like when you wear your hair like that. Maybe we can make it part of your uniform."

"I don't have a uniform, and I will poison your food if you even try suggesting one again."

He threw his hands up and slowly backed out of the kitchen just as the doorbell rang. Guests had begun to arrive.

Nearly two hours later, I pulled the last dish out of the oven and set the tray on a cooling rack. I had already served the starters and appetisers to the six guests that sat in the formal dining room, and now I was attempting to plate the main course of eggplant and seared tenderloin with peppered cognac sauce.

I put together all of the plates perfectly and loaded them up onto the serving cart for the server to bring to the table. For smaller dinner parties, that would be my job, but Olly knew it was difficult for me to balance cooking and tending his guests if it was more than four people.

Harris, the server, walked back into the kitchen and fanned himself dramatically as he eyed the plates.

"This one needs a bit more sauce, no?"

I grabbed the pan and ladled a bit more sauce onto the plate he pointed out, then put the silver domes on all of the plates for Harris to bring them out.

"It looks delicious, Harlow. You've outdone yourself. Like always."

I winked at him with an appreciative smile. "Don't worry Harris, I saved us two plates."

He placed a hand over his heart and darted out of the kitchen with the cart. Harris was a regular employee that I saw often around the house. He was Olly's go-to for dinner parties and other events that required a wait staff. He also made a mean gin cocktail with fig and rosemary. If I played my cards right, I might be able to weasel one out of him before he left for the night.

Once the main course had been served, Harris returned to the kitchen where he and I ate our dinner at the breakfast counter.

"So Maia told me some juicy gossip," Harris said casually around a mouthful of food.

I rolled my eyes. "Maia needs to shut her mouth." I glared at him but he simply grinned at me and chewed his food. "What did she say?"

He took his time finishing his bite before he swallowed. "She told me that Mr. West moved you into the room next to his." It wasn't a question, but more of an accusation.

I scrunched up my face and shoved another bite of sirloin into my mouth to avoid confirming his little bit of gossip. The man saw right through me, though.

He placed a hand over his mouth and made a shocked expression, kicking his feet like an excited child. "How is that going?" He asked with a c****d brow.

"Mr. West is our employer, don't get any ideas. And for the love of all things holy, don't go around spreading tales like Maia." I jabbed my fork at him for emphasis.

"I'm just saying, you're a bombshell honey. And we all see the way Mr. West looks at you. I know you see it too."

"He just likes to mess with me, he doesn't mean anything by it. I've been working here for almost a year and in all of that time, he's never made a move or done anything untoward."

He rolled his eyes and took another bite. "Yeah," he said with a mouthful. "Except he just moved you into the house full time and even moved you into the room next to his."

"I am the maid, that's it."

He set his fork down gently and turned on his stool to face me head on. "Oh Harlow, these rich types always go for the hot young maid. Don't you read any romance books?"

"That's fantasy." I rolled my eyes when he just glared at me in response. "Plus, I'm older than him. I'm not the hot 'young' maid."

"Only by a year or two," he clapped his hands together. "Maybe he's into older women," he said with an added pump of his brows.

I wrinkled my nose. "No, definitely not. You should see the younger bimbos he brings home."

He made a disgusted face and seemed to drop it with that. Thankfully.

Once we finished scarfing down our food, Harris returned to tending the dinner guests and I set about cleaning up the kitchen. It wasn't long before the guests began leaving one by one and Harris left after telling me goodnight and giving me a swift hug.

I sipped the gin cocktail I had begged Harris to make me before he left as I put away some of the dishes that were already dry in the rack. Olly shuffled into the kitchen then, clearly tired and a bit into his cups.

"How was dinner?" I asked as I wiped down the counter a third time and took another sip of the sinfully delicious drink.

When I looked up, Olly was staring intently at my face. His eyes were locked on my lips and I couldn't help it when my tongue darted out to wet them slowly. "Delicious," was all he said.

"I'm glad you liked it. It's a new sauce I wanted to try, so I'm glad it went over well. I hope the tenderloin was cooked well. I made myself some and the meat seemed like I may have over-cooked it." I was rambling because Olly was slowly walking towards me, his eyes roving down my throat and back up to my lips.

"Perfect," was all he said.

"You seem tired, Olly. You should head up to bed. I'm almost done down here."

He was just a few feet from me now and I felt myself press back into the counter to put more space between us. As much as I fantasised about Olly taking some interest in me, I didn't like the bloodshot look in his eyes.

When he was just a few inches from me, our chests nearly touching, he reached behind me and pulled the string of my apron. The top of it fell as his eyes landed on the small bit of cleavage that was now visible from the deep-v of my plain black shirt.

"What are you doing, Olly?" My hands were shaking and my breathing was coming faster and faster.

"You said you were almost done." He placed a hand on the cabinet above my head to steady himself, caging me between him and the counter as his other hand went to the small of my back and pulled the last apron string. "So you won't be needing this anymore, right?" The fabric fell to the floor slowly and my eyes fluttered closed at the satisfied sound that came from Olly's throat.

I pressed my hands to his chest and looked him in the eyes. "You're drunk Mr. West. You should get some sleep."

He leaned in and I shuddered as his lips grazed my cheek and then my ear. "Perhaps you're right, Ms. Clarke. I'm not feeling quite like myself."

He ran his free hand down my arm and over my hip. It was the faintest touch, but the sensation of his hand where it shouldn't be, sent shivers down my spine.

I pushed against his chest firmly, but gently, and he took a full step back, his eyes finally meeting mine properly. "Goodnight, Harlow."

"Goodnight, Olly." He turned and headed upstairs, not sparing me a backwards glance. When I heard his bedroom door shut, I let out the breath I had been holding and downed the rest of my drink.