Scarlett Sinner (The Scarletts

by Brenda Barrett

  She didn't want to be a wicked stepmother, taking out the sins of the mother on the child.

  No. She was not that kind of person and she would be appalled if she heard of anybody who did that sort of thing, but she just didn't know if she was capable of being the Chelsea that Troy wanted her to be, of being the kind of wife and mother that he wanted in this scenario.

  In the interim, until she worked out where her marriage was heading, she needed this job.

  Her housing situation was precarious. She would need to find a place pretty soon. Just two more weeks and her parents would be gone.

  She entered her office. Kadeem was already there.

  "Hi Chelsea." His voice was husky and he was looking at her through half closed eyes.

  She squelched a grimace. That was the best that he could do for sexy?

  "Hi Kadeem."

  "You look... er, businesslike."

  Chelsea nodded, picking up the mail on the in-tray.

  "I called you all weekend and you never answered," Kadeem said in his new low, quasi-seductive voice.

  "Was it business related?" Chelsea looked at him.

  "No. Well, I was wondering if you wanted us to hang out for a while?"

  "I am sorry, Kadeem." Chelsea placed the letters down on the table slowly and deliberately. "I can't hang out with you anymore. I am sorry I crossed the line with our professional relationship. It won't happen again."

  Kadeem frowned and then he got up. "Chelsea, come on, what changed?"

  "I changed. I am married. I shouldn't have gone out with you in the first place."

  "Aren't you planning to get a divorce?" Kadeem cajoled softly. "There is nothing wrong with testing the waters elsewhere."

  "That's the devil talking," Chelsea murmured. "That's a devilish theory and I am not planning to get a divorce and even if I was, I am still not interested in having anything with you."

  Kadeem scowled. "You stringed me along."

  "I did no such thing," Chelsea hissed. "What's wrong with you? You were the one who suggested we go on a friendly date. We did. Nothing came of it; let’s move along."

  "Oh no, it's not going to be that easy," Kadeem said. His voice held a threat, and it gave Chelsea pause.

  "Please calm down, Kadeem," she said with a sense of unrealness. He was acting like a mad man. "This is still a place of business, and technically I am your boss."

  Kadeem strode toward her. He towered over her, his big bulk blocking out the light.

  "You led me on." Kadeem's face was thunderous. "You acted as if we had something going and now you are dismissing me like I am some kind of disposable toy. I want what you promised me with your eyes and your gestures, Chelsea, and I want it now."

  Chelsea made to move away. He was being threatening and intimidating. How did this situation escalate so fast? She had no idea.

  "Listen Kadeem," she said, trying to gentle her voice as she inched away.

  He grabbed her hand. "You are not going anywhere right now, boss." Kadeem sneered in her face. "So I tried the gentle approach and you didn't respond. Let’s try the forceful approach and see how you like it. Is this what you want?"

  He lowered his mouth to hers and smashed his lips on hers; in the meantime he was hiking up her skirt in a savage play of strength.

  "No!" Chelsea tried to push him away but he was just too strong. "No!" she screamed again. He covered her mouth.

  "This is the kind of role play that you want, Chelsea…The savage beast and the boss? I can oblige."

  He took his hand from her mouth for a brief second.

  "Stop this." Chelsea was getting scared now, almost panicky. "Help!" she screamed out in terrified panic. "Somebody help me!"

  She and Ricky were the only ones on this floor of the building. She wondered if he had come in office yet or even if he was coming in today. She knew that with the door closed there was a very high probability that no one would hear her.

  Kadeem clamped his hand back over her mouth. "Shut up! You know you want this."

  "No, I don't." Tears ran down Chelsea's face unchecked. Her voice was muffled under his hand. "No, I don't."

  *****

  "What on earth are you grinning about?" Francine Mills asked Ricky irritably. "I said that Leandro and I were on the outs and all you have been doing is staring at the iPad and grinning. I would at least expect some kind of sympathy for my plight."

  "Uh huh," Ricky said absently. "That's very true."

  Francine rolled her eyes and then sipped her tea. "I think Switzerland is too small for the both of us. He is so possessive and jealous. He is worse than any of the husbands I have ever had."

  Ricky nodded and Francine continued blithely, "And he has this strange, antiquated idea that he will provide for us on his paltry salary and that I should stop using your father's money. I mean, what he earns in one month can't even pay for one of my shoes."

  Ricky didn't even pretend to respond to her and Francine frowned darkly.

  To make matters worse, the housekeeper was coming in the kitchen, saw what was on his screen and turned an appalling shade of red, hurrying out of the kitchen as if she was going to barf.

  Francine got up and walked behind her son and looked at his screen. He had been so engrossed in what he was viewing that he had not heard or seen that she moved.

  What she saw shocked her into immobility.

  "Ricky!" Francine could barely find her voice indignation was bubbling through her core. "That is a rape! The lady is struggling to get away from that man! Who is that?"

  She grabbed the iPad from him in an inelegant tussle that had her messing up her makeup.

  She looked at the video’s timestamp. It was a live feed from Villa Ingles. She recognized the inside of the manager's office. The former manager Janet and she had been good friends.

  She was the one who had insisted that Ricky hire Janet, partly because she had wanted somebody to keep an eye on him while she was away.

  "Where's Janet?" she growled at Ricky. She went for her phone and dialed the head security's number. She was so happy that she hadn't deleted the Villa Ingles numbers.

  Bruce Shepton answered on the first ring.

  "Bruce, it’s Francine Mills. Check Janet's office now!"

  "You mean Mrs. Scarlett's office," Bruce corrected. "Chelsea Scarlett."

  Francine looked at her son, who was lounging in his chair like he had not a care in the world. It dawned on her that she was looking at a person that she did not know.

  "Yes, her. Go now, Bruce; she is in trouble!"

  She hung up the phone and then looked at her son. "You!"

  "Me?" Ricky said innocently. "What did I do?"

  "You are behind this somehow." Francine stumbled to a chair and sat down. Tears were bright in her eyes but Ricky was looking at her dispassionately.

  "What did I do wrong, Ricky?"

  "In terms of?" Ricky raised his eyebrow at her and sipped his tea.

  "With you." Francine could barely form the words in her head. "You are a monster! It wouldn't surprise me if you would watch me being raped and not do a thing about it."

  "Don't be ridiculous, Francine," Ricky spat. "He wasn't raping her. He was just frightening her."

  "You told him to do this, son?" Francine asked, hoping her voice was not shaking.

  "Yes."

  "Why?" Francine was confused.

  "Because she is a Scarlett, married to Troy Scarlett, Yuri's brother."

  "So you are back to that." Francine nodded and then picked up her phone. "This is unfortunate. You promised me that you were going to let this go a little over five months ago. I had my lawyers bail you out of jail, Ricky…you promised me then. I almost believed you."

  Ricky looked at her dispassionately. "What exactly is it that you think that I have done here, Mother?"

  Ricky never called her mother. He was mocking her. He thought he had the upper hand.

  When the phone was answered on the other end of the line. Francine said
into it, "Pietre, it's me."

  "Yes Francine," Pietre said without a pause.

  "I want him cured," Francine said. "You have to come now."

  "That's fine, Francine."

  "What do you think you are doing?" Ricky asked his mother suspiciously.

  "I am getting you the help you need." Francine made another phone call while Ricky stared at her incredulously.

  She called her lawyer. Then she called a security firm. Then she called her business manager, talking to them in cryptic sentences that made no sense to Ricky.

  When she finally hung up the phone, she looked at him with the typical Francine Mills serene smile. "So where is Janet Long?"

  "I paid her to go on a long vacation." Ricky grinned. "For six months."

  Francine sighed and then she called her business manager. "Find Janet Long."

  "What are you doing?" Ricky asked her, his suspicions rising.

  Francine folded her arms. "First, I am having an audit done on all your assets."

  "What for?" Ricky sputtered. "Have you lost your mind? You have no right to do that?"

  "I already did," Francine said, a cold glint in her eye. It reminded Ricky of himself when he was most ruthless. It belatedly occurred to him that that was where he got it from.

  "I just needed to make sure that I was still correct…"

  "But why?" Ricky asked.

  "Then I am going to sell everything that is not essential or that I do not have a stake in. So your houses, your cars...basically everything that you think is all yours, I am selling."

  "You can't do that," Ricky hissed.

  "Oh yes I can," Francine cackled. "What you fail to realize, Ricky, is that I am not just a pretty face. I know how to read wills and contracts. You should not have attended university just to party.

  "I am basically the boss of you until next year, but in light of your recent jail stint and this most recent stunt, I am extending the time that I am custodian of your wealth until you prove yourself to be a fit human being.

  "And since you are not a little boy anymore and I really can’t ground you or take away your television privileges or give you a good Jamaican beating, here's what is going to happen..."

  Ricky heard a door slam outside and he sat up straighter in his chair. Francine's shrewdness had caught him by surprise.

  "You are now going to be declared mentally unfit by a psychiatrist," Francine said softly. "Then I am going to be the one who makes your decisions."

  Ricky got up. "Stop the crap, Francine. Now!"

  He looked behind him and saw four burly men and a guy in a white coat.

  "What the…how did you...how did you arrange this so fast?"

  "My first decision on your behalf, my dearest son," Francine said, sorrow in her voice, "is to have you do electro-convulsive treatments. It's the only way that I know how to help you get rid of this fixation on the Scarletts.

  "I came here this week to discuss it with you in a more civilized manner but knowing you, I had to have a back-up plan in case you resisted. I had them staying at another hotel."

  "Don't do this, Francine," Ricky pleaded. "I'll change, I swear. I'll leave them alone, I promise."

  Francine came over to Ricky and hugged him. "Oh, my poor baby. I love you. I love you too much to allow you to hurt anyone else, and with this treatment you probably won't remember any of this. I am sorry for my duplicity, but this is going to be a brand new start. You'll be a different man, and I hope a better one."

  Ricky did not feel when the needle entered his neck or that the men held him up before he slumped to the ground.

  "Thank you, Pietre," Francine said to the doctor in the white coat. "Now get him to the facility. I need to clean up a little mess over at Villa Ingles."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chelsea was hunched over on the desk, her throat tight with unshed tears, as Bruce and two other security guys hustled Kadeem out of the office. They had burst into the office earlier and had dragged him off her, and then the three of them had sat on him.

  Chelsea had wondered why they were still waiting in her office. Bruce had apologized profusely for Kadeem and the ordeal that she had been through, but they had waited until a tall lady in an elegant outfit came to the door.

  "Thank you, Bruce," she said, putting her hand over her heart. "Are you all right, dear?"

  "Not quite," Chelsea said hoarsely. Kadeem had just given her the scare of her life. She wondered if Bruce had not come when he did if he would have really raped her.

  She shuddered in reaction.

  "What should we do with him?" Bruce asked the lady.

  "Escort him off the premises," the lady said coldly.

  "But wait," Kadeem protested, "Ricky paid me to seduce her. He told me to scare her this morning, make it look authentic. I wasn't going to rape her!"

  "Let him get his things first," the lady said, a hint of displeasure evident in her voice, "and then I want you gone." She pointed at Kadeem threateningly. "Why would you take money to scare a woman in a place of business in that way?"

  "Because I owe Ricky." Kadeem looked over at Chelsea apologetically. "I am sorry, Chelsea, but I had to do what Ricky wanted. He ordered me to be aggressive with you this morning. I didn't want to do it. I think you are a great girl."

  The lady snorted. "If you thought she was such a great girl, you would have put an end to this madness."

  She sat down across from Chelsea and twisted her lips. "I am sorry about all of this, Chelsea. May I call you Chelsea?"

  Chelsea nodded. "Who are you?"

  "Francine Mills, Ricky's mother."

  "Oh." Chelsea looked at her, confused. She looked ridiculously young to be Ricky's mother.

  "My son has a mental condition," Francine said, apology heavy in her voice. "Unfortunately, he hired you for the sole purpose of torturing your husband. Because you are a Scarlett, Ricky thought you were fair game."

  "So it was true." Chelsea couldn't believe it. Yuri was right all this time and she was so clueless she was going around defending Ricky. The slime.

  "Yes. His fascination with Yuri is legendary." Francine steepled her fingers and then exhaled. "But he is getting help. Today. It is a good thing I caught him looking at that video of you when I did."

  "What?" It suddenly dawned on Chelsea that Ricky must have been watching her from his office and if he had been in collusion with Kadeem, he had really been the one to send the pictures to Troy and Yuri. "I am a poor judge of character," she mumbled.

  "I am a poor mother," Francine sighed. "If I had to do it all over again, I would have done things much differently. You have children, Chelsea?" Francine asked wistfully.

  "A girl." Chelsea nodded.

  "All children need a sense of family." Francine tucked a stray hair from off her cheeks. "I never had that and I never gave Ricky that. Who knows? If I hadn't been so self absorbed, maybe I could have given Ricky the family he needed. But I was, and I left my child to the mercy of the elements and he has grown up really troubled. It is up to me to give him the help that he needs."

  Chelsea listened patiently, wondering when Francine would finish with her rambling. If Ricky was that troubled, what he really needed was to be locked up somewhere dark. How could he even consider that paying somebody to feel her up in her office was going to be okay?

  He needed help, all right. She clenched her hands tightly. As for her own self, she had needed this wake-up call to set her straight. She had almost played into Ricky's hands.

  If she had not come to her senses before last Saturday night, she would have been caught on tape fornicating with a guy who was paid to sleep with her.

  She closed her eyes in reaction. Her marriage, her reputation—everything would have been shattered beyond repair.

  "So anyway," Francine looked at her with sympathy in her eyes, "I am sure that you won't want to work here anymore after this morning’s fiasco."

  "You are right." Chelsea shook her head. "I need a break. No offense, Fran
cine, but your son is crazy!"

  "Technically he isn't," Francine pointed out, "but he does need help and I am going to get him some. In the meantime, Janet will be back in the office tomorrow. My business team will take over here until further notice.

  "And I will be compensating you for the troubles you have endured. How does a year of your current salary sound? Provided that you sign this confidential agreement."

  She whipped one out of her bag and handed it to Chelsea.

  "Unfortunately, with Ricky as my son, I have to carry these around with me."

  Chelsea could hardly process what happened this morning before she was asked to sign an agreement to shut up. Ricky was not getting off that easy.

  "How can I be sure that Ricky won't pop up somewhere and do something else to another member of the family?" Chelsea looked at the agreement doubtfully. "Shutting up about this does not seem right. Besides, Kadeem should be punished. He really scared me this morning."

  "I will deal with Kadeem," Francine said. "As for Ricky, he is going to undergo electro-convulsive treatment. It may wipe out vast parts of his memory. He'll not be the same person when he is done. He probably won't remember you or Treasure Beach. He probably won't remember Yuri or any of you Scarletts. I have one of the best doctors around to perform the treatment on him. Please believe me when I say that I am going to ensure that my son does not trouble your family anymore."

  Chelsea doubtfully signed the contract. She was going to have to research this electro-convulsive treatment business for herself.

  Francine whipped out her check book and wrote her a check.

  She took up her bag and her knick-knacks and left the office—four months of employment over.

  So much for wearing her power suit this morning.

  *****

  Chelsea went home feeling a little frayed around the edges. The place was jam-packed with her parents’ packing boxes. She couldn't even find a place to sit.

  Her mother was home, playing loud music in her room and singing. Her mom imagined that she had a voice just like Whitney Houston and she played Whitney's albums and sang along with gusto. Nobody had the heart to tell her that her voice sounded far different than she thought.