Mr Spencer: Chapter 12

I lie in the dark, sprawled on the sheets that still smell of him.

But he’s not here.

I’m trying my hardest not to think the worst, but he came back here to get the key today when I wasn’t home. It’s the only explanation. Nobody else would have taken it. Nobody else even has a key to this apartment.

I have an ache in my throat from holding back all my tears. If I allow myself to cry, I will lose all control and howl to the moon all night long.

Well, Charlotte, you wanted an adult relationship, and you got one.

Warts and all.

Part of me wants to forget that I even know about the damn key, to listen to my gut and trust him.

The other part of me, my brain, wants to get dressed and go and wait at the bottom of the elevator so I can catch the bastard red-handed when he slips out of there in the morning.

If he wanted her, why isn’t he just with her?

Why would he pursue me if he wanted her? Why would he stay here every night? I don’t understand.

The sex. It has to be about that. The sex they have must be incomparable to what he has with me. I get a sharp twist of pain in my heart as I imagine him with her, naked and hard. Does he kiss her the way he kisses me?

I angrily swipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hands. He told me that the last time he was with her he imagined he was with me.

Does he imagine her when he’s with me?

I close my eyes, tasting bile. The thought is sickening. My mind goes back to the conversation I had with Lara on that first night when she told me who Spencer was.

“Mr Spencer. Don’t bother even looking at him,” Lara said.

“Why not?”

“He’s the most eligible bachelor in London, and an appalling rake.” She raised an eyebrow for effect. “He’s loaded… and I don’t just mean his wallet.”

I close my eyes in disgust. I was warned. Many times, I was warned, but like a moth to a flame, I had to have him anyway.

Do they make gentle love, or does he fuck her hard? I get a vision of him naked again. And her… she’s beautiful. I bet she’s even more beautiful naked.

I clench my jaw so hard, my teeth ache.

My fury begins to pump, and I angrily swipe the tears away again. How dare he do this to me? How dare he throw me to the side as soon as she comes to town?

He made me feel so special, and then to lie to my face… oh, this is a different type of betrayal than I’ve ever felt before. This one hurts.

I roll over and punch the pillow hard, and that’s when I hear the door downstairs. Huh?

I sit up to listen.

I hear keys hit the side table, and I glance at the clock. It’s 10:10 p.m.

He’s here.

I quickly wipe my eyes and lie back down, pretending to be asleep. My heart is beating so hard, I lie in the silence and I screw up into my pillows.

Stop it, stop it, stop it. Don’t let him see you weak.

I lie with my back to the door on my side. When he walks in, I can feel his presence.

He stands still and watches me for a moment.

Does he feel guilty? I hope so. More tears fill my eyes.

“I’m home, angel,” he whispers as he sits beside me on the bed. He leans down and kisses my cheek.

Unable to help it, I turn to him and his face falls. My eyes are red and swollen. I’ve been in tears since I found the key was gone.

“You’ve been crying.” He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

I stay silent because I don’t know what to say. I mean, what is there to say? What can I possibly say that will make this better?

“Charlotte?” he whispers as he flicks the lamp on to see my face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“You tell me.”

He frowns. “What does that mean?”

My eyes hold his. “Do you have something to tell me, Spencer?”

“Like what?”

My traitorous tears fill my eyes again. Damn these weeping bitches.

“Charlotte, why are you crying?” he demands.

I shake my head and roll away from him. I can’t even look him in the eye.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snaps.

I clench my jaw. “Get out.

“What?”

“You heard me. Go back to Sheridan.”

“What the hell?” He stands, daring to look completely outraged. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Angry blood rages through my body like a rapid river. Does he think I’m fucking stupid? I roll back onto my back as contempt fills me.

“Did you come back to the apartment today, Spencer?” I ask him calmly.

His eyes narrow, and he swallows a lump in his throat. “Yeah, I did, actually.”

I smirk. “Did you imagine my face again when you were fucking her tonight?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head, connecting the dots. “I didn’t… I don’t… it’s not what you think.”

“Get out,” I say coldly.

“It’s not like that.”

“Get the fuck out!” I cry as I lose all control. The stupid tears break free again, stealing my bravery act. I wipe them away with my forearm.

“She… she came to me last week,” he stammers. “She wanted to see me. I said no.”

I stare at him.

“Someone came into my office just after she left, and I shoved the key in my pocket to hide it from them. After that, I forgot all about it.”

I feel my back molars nearly crack from me clenching my jaw so hard.

“I remembered it this morning on my way to work.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I panicked, Charlotte. I didn’t want you to find it and think the wrong thing.”

I roll my eyes in disgust. Likely story.

“I came back here today, got it, and I threw it in the bin.”

I fly out of bed like a madwoman. “Of course you did.” I storm to the door. “Right after you fucked her.”

“Charlotte, I promise you, I haven’t been with Sheridan.”

I stare at him through my tears.

“I was at a work dinner. I have clients who have flown in from China.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she came to you?” I cry.

“Because she doesn’t fucking matter to me!” he yells back.

My face screws up in tears. “Do you love her?” I sob.

“No, I fucking love you.” He shakes his head. “And I have no idea how that’s even possible. I’ve known you for five fucking minutes.”

I stare at him, lost for words.

“People who love each other don’t tell lies, Spencer.”

I turn away and storm downstairs. I can’t be near him right now. I have no idea what to believe.

“What about you?” he calls from the top step. “You haven’t told me one fucking lie since we’ve been together?”

I turn to him sharply. “Never! I have not lied to you once. Not once.”

“Bull-fucking-shit.” He charges down the stairs and grabs my arm, dragging me out of the front door and into the corridor near the elevator. “Look in the bin.”

“What?”

“Look in the fucking bin. I threw the key in there this morning on my way out of the apartment.” He picks up the bin in the corridor and tips it upside down like a crazy person. The lid flies off, and a lone hotel key card falls out onto the carpet. “Check the security footage from Mr Wong’s in Chinatown, you fucking know it all. I was there until twenty minutes ago.”

With that, he turns and storms back into the apartment, leaving me to stand still as my heart beats hard in my chest.

I close my eyes, instantly full of regret.

Shit.

I walk back inside the apartment to find him marching up the stairs.

I follow him carefully and quietly.

He’s furious, raging like a bull. He storms into the wardrobe and begins throwing his stuff onto the bed like a madman.

I fold my arms over my chest. “What did you expect me to think?” I snap. “I find a key in the morning then I come home and find it’s gone. Then you’ve conveniently had something on all of a sudden and won’t be coming over.”

“While we’re talking about lies… I want to know yours.” He sneers.

I wither. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are pissing me off, Charlotte Prescott,” he growls. “Get out of my fucking face before I lose my shit.” He storms up the hall, and I find myself running after him.

“What lie?” I cry. “What are you talking about, Spencer?”

“Don’t tell me that you don’t have feelings for the man who took your virginity, because I know you do. It’s fucking eating me alive.”

Huh…?

“Do you really fucking expect me to believe that you wait twenty-five years to lose your virginity, only to give it to someone you don’t care about?”

I roll my eyes.

“I’m not fucking stupid,” he barks, making me jump. “Who is he?”

We stare at each other as we pant, both of us furious. I’m not telling him like this, he’s too angry. He’ll go berserk about me lying to him in the first place.

I go to touch him, but he flicks my hand off his arm. “Don’t fucking touch me, you piss me off.” He storms out. I hear him walk down the hall, and then the spare bedroom door slams shut.

I drag my hands through my hair.

I walk up to the spare bedroom and stand outside the door.

I hear him kick off his shoes, and then I hear something hit the wall. I hear the blankets get thrown back. “Fuck off!” he mutters angrily to himself before something else hits the wall.

I slide down the wall and sit on the floor in the hallway. At least he hasn’t left me.

But what now?

I run through the profit and loss sheets for Macao, checking the losses myself with a calculator. They’re two percent higher than expected, and I want to find where we are slipping. My father Harold is in his office next to me, going through some refurbishment details with our interior designers.

My phone rings and the name Alexander York lights up the screen.

I smile and answer with, “Yorkie, how are you?”

“Good, good.” He laughs.

Alexander is one of my closest friends. The two of us went to boarding school together and have only gotten closer over the years.

“Why are you calling me at…” I glance at my watch. “5:00 a.m. your time? Did you wet the bed?”

“Ha, very funny. I’ve been contemplating calling you all week. It’s finally got the better of me.”

I frown, suddenly interested. “What’s up?”

“You know how I took Charlotte to the charity ball last Saturday night?”

“Yeah.”

“There was this guy sniffing around her.”

“Who?”

“Spencer Jones.”

I immediately type the name into Google on my laptop.

“Define sniffing,” I urge while I wait.

“Well, that’s the thing: I don’t know anything for certain, but it’s left me feeling uneasy all week, so I thought I’d better let you know.”

A collection of images appear, and I scroll through each of them, reading the first headline.

I clench my jaw. “What happened?”

“That’s the thing, they seemed to know each other. They were familiar when talking, and then he was kissing her hand.”

“Kissing her?” I snap and sit forward in my chair. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

“Afraid not. I approached Spencer at the bar when she was out of her earshot and asked him what he was doing with Charlotte Prescott.”

I continue to scroll through the images of him with different women.

“What did he say?”

“He said, and I quote, Whatever the fuck I like.”

I narrow my eyes. “Do you know this guy?”

“Yes, and I fucking hate him. He’s a womanising cad who sleeps with every supermodel in town.”

“Who is he?” I Google his bio.

“He owns a successful steel manufacturing company… does all right for himself.”

“Why do you hate him?”

“The guy stole a girl off of me years ago and it escalated from there. I’ve had run-ins with his friends, too. He hangs out with Julian Masters and Sebastian Garcia.”

I narrow my eyes even farther. I know Julian Masters. Our fathers have done business together in the past. I saw him once at Madison’s when he was coming out of a suite. He didn’t see me, though. If he goes to Madison’s, Spencer would too.

“What happened at the ball?”

“Nothing while I was there. He talked to Charlotte, he and I had words, and then later in the night, my mother fell ill so I had to take her home an hour before it finished.”

“You left Charlotte there alone?” I frown.

“She was with my sister Mariella, and she knew everyone at our table. Her guards were there, too, of course. But here’s the thing, as soon as I left, she was back at the bar talking to Spencer Jones again.”

My fury begins to rise. “Did they leave together?”

“No, separately.” He pauses, as if he has something else to say.

“What?”

“Look, I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I called around to see her the next day unannounced and she was… half-dressed, and she most definitely did not want me in her apartment.”

I sit forward in my seat, glaring at the images of this Spencer Jones with what seems like every beautiful woman on the planet. “You think he was there with her?” I ask.

“No, but it was obvious she didn’t want me there.” He pauses. “I don’t know, it just felt off, man. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Hmm.”

“Anyway, it’s been eating at me ever since so I thought I should let you know. Spencer is the last fucking person that Charlotte should be associated with.”

I glare at the computer screen with a sarcastic smile plastered on his face.

“I can see that.” I inhale sharply. “Don’t mention this to father or anyone else.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll check it out, thank you. You’re a good friend.” I hang up and sit back in my chair, studying the Playboy in front of me.

“Over my dead body will you get your hands on her,” I whisper. “Over my dead body.”

I wake with a start, and I can tell by the light of the room that it’s now early morning. I get out of bed, go to the bathroom, and tiptoe down the hall.

My man didn’t come and get into bed with me when he’d cooled down like I thought he would. I’ve been thinking about it all night, and Spencer is right… I should have asked him before I jumped to conclusions. But he should have told me she came to him, and he was being deceitful when he hid the key from me. We’re both in the wrong here and I won’t take all the blame.

I open the bedroom door and my shoulders slump. The crumpled up bed is empty.

He must have just left, although he normally leaves at 5:30 a.m.

Great.

I head downstairs and make myself a cup of tea, then I sit at the kitchen counter as I drink in silence.

What the hell do I do now?

Damn this, I’m not spending the day worrying.

I take out my phone and dial his number.

“Hello,” he answers in a clipped tone.

“Hi.” I smile nervously. “Why didn’t you wake me up before you left?”

“What’s the point?”

“Spence,” I sigh. “What did you expect me to think?”

“Exactly what you did.” He pauses. “I am my father’s son, after all.”

My heart drops. “Stop it and come back home. We’ll work it out.”

“I can’t, I have to work.”

I close my eyes. Damn it, why did I fly off the handle before talking to him?

“Will I see you tonight?”

“I’m busy.”

I frown.

“See you later.” He hangs up.

Five hours to stew on something is a long time. I sort through the mail on the table like a zombie, my mind with Spencer and how he doesn’t think he’ll see me tonight.

He said that he loved me.

“Are you okay?” Sarah frowns. “You’ve looked like shit all day.”

“Not really, I feel sick,” I lie.

“Go home.” Paul tuts. “We don’t want it.”

“Yeah, go home,” Sarah says. “We’re entitled to sick days. Just go, and we’ll tell them after you leave that you were throwing up.”

“Really?” I could go and see Spencer at work. “Is that okay?” I ask.

“Sure! Off you go.”

I can’t stand the thought of him thinking that I think he’s like his father.

I need to fix this situation right now.

I’m worried sick about this.

Half an hour later, I’m walking into Spencer’s building with Wyatt and Anthony close behind me. I read the lists of businesses in the directory in the foyer.

Universal Steel — Fourteenth floor.

We take the elevator up, and my heart beats furiously in my chest. Up until last night, I wouldn’t have thought Spencer had a temper, but now I know that he does and it’s a little scary. The doors open up to reveal a huge office space. It’s modern and decorated black and white with huge, brightly coloured abstract paintings along the walls.

The entire back wall is made of windows that overlook London.

Wow, this is something else.

Wyatt and Anthony stand by the door. I turn and give them a nervous smile. “I won’t be long.”

I walk through to the large reception area with my stomach in my throat. What if he doesn’t want to see me?

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asks.

“Yes.” I smile awkwardly. “I’m here to see Spencer Jones.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

She looks me up and down, and I raise my eyebrow. Who is this? The way she looks at me sparks something in my brain, and I hear the words leave my mouth before my filter kicks in. “Tell him that his girlfriend Charlotte is here.”

A frown crosses her forehead before she quickly recovers. “Just a moment.”

She taps a number on the phone and speaks through the headset.

“Yeah,” I hear Spencer’s bored voice say.

“I have a Charlotte here.” Her eyes come back to mine. “She says she’s your girlfriend.”

He exhales heavily. “Send her in.”

My stomach drops. It’s not exactly the enthusiastic response I was hoping for.

Maybe this is it?

She fakes a smile. “This way, please.”

I follow her through the office and people stop what they are doing to look over, at me. I keep my eyes on the floor. I’m so nervous, I can hardly lift my head.

She opens the last door and fakes a smile.

“Thank you.” I look nervously into the office, and there he sits behind a large black desk made of wood and glass. He’s wearing a grey suit, white shirt, and a pink tie, looking as edible as I’ve ever seen him. His eyes rise to meet mine and his jaw clenches.

The door shuts behind me.

“Hi,” I say nervously, twisting my fingers in front of me.

His eyes hold mine, and he rolls a pen across the desk with four fingers. “Hi.”

I walk around and sit on the desk in front of him, watching as he leans back in his chair.

“I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

He stares at me, devoid of emotion.

“I’m sorry.”

He nods once.

“But I’m not the only one in the wrong here,” I add.

He nods again.

“This is where you say sorry, too, Spence.”

“I was only trying to protect you.”

“From her?”

He shrugs.

“Do I need protecting from her?”

He shrugs again and remains silent. I don’t think he knows what to say.

“I saw the key was missing, and then you called to say you weren’t coming home.”

“I know how this looks.” He sighs.

“Then why are you angry with me?”

“I’m not angry, I’m disappointed.”

“That I thought you were with somebody else?” I frown.

“Yes. Why would you think that? Have I given you any reason to doubt me?”

“No, baby,” I whisper as I crawl onto his lap.

“This is about your ten years with Sheridan,” I say softly. “I don’t know how to compete with that kind of history, Spence, and it scares the hell out of me.”

He slides his hand up my thigh. “I told you I’m not in love with her.”

I smile softly. “You said you loved me.”

His eyes fall to the desk, and I place my finger under his chin to bring his face back to mine. “Is that still true?”

His jaw clenches as his eyes hold mine.

“Spencer…”

He stares at me.

I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight.

“Okay, well, I have something to tell you.” I run my fingers through his stubble. “You were right, I could never sleep with someone I didn’t have feelings for.”

My heart sinks from her admission. “Who is he?”

She smiles softly. “He has white teeth and he wears a size thirteen shoe.”

I frown.

“He’s on the navigation team for Santa Claus.”

My face falls. “What?”

“He likes naughty kittens because he’s a big naughty kitten himself.”

“I don’t understand.”

She gives a subtle shake of her head. “There was no other man, Spence.”

My eyes search hers.

“Only you,” she says softly.

I frown in confusion.

“You’re the only man I’ve ever slept with—the only person I have feelings for.”

My heart freefalls. “Are you serious?” I whisper.

She smiles and nods gently. “I wanted it to be you—”

“Why would you lie to me about that?” I breathe out, cutting her off.

I should have made it better for her. I try and remember how I took her the very first time. Was I rough? Did I hurt her?

“I knew that you were too scared to go through with it because you thought I was going to fall in love with you,” she admits.

My eyes hold hers.

She bends and kisses me softly. Her tongue gently slides through my lips, and I feel my arousal roll in.

“And it turns out you had a good reason to be scared of that… because I have,” she whispers.

I drop my head as emotion takes over, our foreheads coming together.

This feels so… real.

She puts her finger under my chin and brings my face up to meet hers. “I know this is crazy and we don’t even know each other properly yet, but I was devastated last night when I thought you were with Sheridan.”

I shake my head and look up at her. “How does this happen in ten days, angel? I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

She smiles. “You always hear people say that when you know, you know, right?”

Oh God…this beautiful woman.

“I know,” I whisper against her lips.

“I know, too. I’ve known all along.” Her lips take mine and our kiss is deep and passionate. It’s everything I’ve never had. Suddenly, I’m desperate to be alone with her—to show her what she means to me.

“Let’s go home,” I murmur into her hair.

“To your house?”

I stare at the perfect angel in front of me, and a thought of pure horror runs through my mind.

She can’t stay in my bed.

I need a new mattress before we stay at my house. I don’t want her sleeping where I’ve been with another woman.

I want a new start… with her.

“Let’s go to your house. It’s easier for the boys,” I lie. “We’ll stay at mine tomorrow night when we’ve made arrangements for them.”

“Okay.”

I stand and take her in my arms, holding her tight.

There’s no other man.

Only me!

This feeling, this overwhelming feeling I get from her is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I can’t get close enough.

It’s comforting, and yet it terrifies the hell out of me. She’s not just anyone, and I know for certain that her family are not going to accept me. I grip her tighter as the reality that I may lose her sets in.

“Let’s go home, baby,” she whispers against my shoulder.

I kiss her big, soft lips. “Let’s go.”

I pack up my desk and we walk out through the reception area hand in hand.

“I’m leaving for the day,” I tell Rosalie, my PA.

“Okay, Mr Jones.” She smiles as she looks us both up and down.

“Goodbye.” Charlotte smiles to her. “Lovely to meet you.”

“You, too!” Rosalie calls back.

We walk through to the foyer to find Anthony and Wyatt waiting patiently.

“Hi, guys,” I say to them both.

“Hey,” they both reply.

The four of us get into the elevator and I push the button.

I want to know why Charlotte is guarded. There has to be something more sinister going on than she is led to believe, and I intend to find out exactly what that something is.

“My car is out on the street today. Where are you parked?” I ask them. I don’t want Charlotte to be without them with her for a moment.

“Around the block,” Anthony answers.

“We’ll just go down and wait in my car until you come around, and then we’ll pull out in front of you, okay?” I ask.

“Okay, good,” Wyatt replies.

We walk out of the building hand in hand, across the quadrangle area.

“Charlotte?” a man calls out. “Charlotte Prescott…”

We both turn and see a photographer smiling as soon as he realises it’s her. Before we can do anything he begins to take photos. The camera clicks away picture after picture.

Charlotte’s step falters.

“Keep walking!” Wyatt snaps.

Charlotte puts her head down, and I drag her by the hand as Wyatt approaches the photographer.

“Get the fuck off!” the photographer cries out when Wyatt tries to take the camera from him. They get into a struggle, leaving Charlotte and me to head to the car as quickly as we possibly can.

“Meet us at home!” Anthony yells, turning and running back to help Wyatt confiscate the camera.

I open the car door and Charlotte slides in. I run around to my side and, once secured in, we take off quickly.

I look out through the rearview mirror to see the two guards in a full-on scuffle with two photographers now.

“Oh my God,” Charlotte whispers, dropping her head into her hands.

I grip the steering wheel with white knuckle force, trying to concentrate on the road ahead.

Looks like the war is about to begin.