Mr Spencer (Mr. Book 2)

Wyatt narrows his eyes and steps forward when Spencer gets to the bottom step.

“Spencer!” I stammer, glancing between the two men in total panic.

Shit.

“How did you get in here?” Wyatt asks roughly.

“I walked through the front door and used my key.” Spencer folds his arms over his chest.

“I don’t think so.” Wyatt sneers.

Spencer smirks. “Really? So, do you think I scaled the building instead? Perhaps a helicopter dropped me on the roof?”

Anthony walks through the front door and stops sharply when he sees Spencer wearing nothing more than a towel.

Wyatt turns and looks at Anthony, a silent message passing between the two of them.

“Spencer is a guest of mine,” I say quickly.

“I don’t think Edward’s going to like this,” Wyatt tells me, stating the obvious.

“Edward’s not going to know about this,” Spencer warns. “Not until Charlotte tells him herself.”

Wyatt narrows his eyes, his disapproval clear.

“What exactly is your role here, Wyatt?” Spencer asks calmly.

I hold my stomach as my heart has a fit.

“Is your role to guard Charlotte and keep her safe, or are you here to spy on her for her overbearing brother?”

“Spencer,” I whisper. “Please—”

Spencer holds up his hand, cutting me off.

Oh no…

“My role with Lady Charlotte is none of your concern,” Wyatt fires back.

“The hell it isn’t!” Spencer snaps. “Whether you like it or not, I’m with Charlotte now, and you will report to me from this moment forward with regards to her safety.”

Oh God, my knees feel weak.

“I report to Edward Prescott only.”

Spencer smiles sarcastically. “Okay, then you can tell him that Charlotte has had a visitor every night for a week, while you and Anthony got plastered in the hotel bar. I’m sure he will be thrilled about your professionalism.”

The men exchange looks.

“Here’s how this is going to go: Charlotte is perfectly capable of making her own decisions. She deserves your respect and you’re going to allow her to have some fucking privacy for once. You will tell her family about me when she is good and ready.”

“But—”

“No fucking buts. Take out your phone,” Spencer demands. He rattles off his phone number to Wyatt. “Now, if you have any concerns for Charlotte’s safety, you call me.”

The two men glare at him.

“If you don’t give Charlotte the privacy she deserves, you can find another job immediately.”

Oh my God. “Spencer…” I whisper.

“One day soon, you will work for me. Guarding Charlotte for me. I don’t give a fuck about the Prescott money. My concern is for Charlotte’s safety only, and so far, you two are the worst fucking guards I’ve ever seen.”

The men stare at him, shocked.

“If you go against Charlotte’s wishes, you’ll hand your resignation in on the same day. Because I won’t fucking have it,” he growls. “She is your boss. She is the only one who gets to make the decisions around here. Not me, not you, and most certainly not fucking Edward.”

The three men glare at each other while I hold my breath and wait.

“Do I make myself clear?” Spencer asks.

They stay silent.

“Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” he yells.

“Yes,” Wyatt mutters angrily. Anthony nods.

Emotion overwhelms me, and I stare at Spencer through tears, as I smile softly. He’s the first man to ever stand up for me—for my privacy.

If I didn’t love him before, I do now.

Spencer turns his attention to me. “I’m going to get ready for work, angel.”

I nod, embarrassed. “Okay.”

He turns back to the boys. “We’ll be going out for dinner tonight. I assume you’ll be accompanying us.”

They nod and step back, clearly defeated.

“We’ll be leaving at seven. Don’t come into this apartment unannounced ever again without calling me first.”

“Yes, sir,” they both reply.

Spencer walks up the steps and I drop my head, ashamed that I liked what he just did.

“I’ll be ready for work at eight,” I say quietly.

Wyatt’s eyes hold mine. “Are you all right with this? Him being in charge?”

“Yes,” I whisper, enjoying the way my heart fills with hope. “I really am.”

Wyatt and Anthony leave and I linger in the foyer for a moment trying to process what just happened.

“One day soon, you will work for me. Guarding Charlotte for me. I don’t give a fuck about the Prescott money.”

I’m not imaging this; he does think this is going somewhere. He wouldn’t be saying these things if he didn’t think we had a future together.

One day they will be working for him… what the hell?

I take the stairs two at a time to find him stepping out of the shower and drying himself in the bathroom. My eyes find his across the room.

He smirks and holds his arms out. I move to him, wrap my arms around his body and hold on tight.

“I apologise for overruling you down there.” He kisses my temple, and I look up at him. “I can’t let this go on, angel. I won’t have it.” He shakes his head. “Nobody gets to control you anymore.”

“Except you?” I whisper.

He smiles softly. “Not even me.” His hands slide down over my behind. “I like strong women, Charlotte, and just because you haven’t been allowed to be one, it doesn’t mean you aren’t one.”

Tears fill my eyes.

“Hey.” He cups my face. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, feeling stupid, and he kisses me softly. I stare at him for a moment as I try to articulate my thoughts. “Not many men are comfortable being with strong women, Spence.”

“Lucky for you that I’m not like other men then, isn’t it?”

“Do you think I’m weak?”

He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “From the first moment I saw you, I knew you weren’t weak. The way you carried yourself, the sway of your hips, the self-respect you have for your body. I wouldn’t be with you if I thought you were weak, and I most definitely wouldn’t be planning a future with you in it.” He wipes my eyes with his thumbs. “I think your life is just about to begin and you will become the woman you were born to be.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Don’t be afraid of being strong, angel.”

My eyes search his. It’s like he’s reading my soul.

“You are a powerful woman. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and wealthy.” He kisses me softly. “It’s about time you let the rest of the world know it.” He hesitates for a moment. “More importantly, I want you to believe it for yourself.”

I hold him close, pressing my face against his chest. Who knew that the biggest player in all of England would become my hero?

My email pings with a new message and I open it up. A broad smile crosses my face when I see the name Spencer Jones.

Good morning, Miss Preston

What is my favourite mail girl up to?

I smile goofily and hit reply.

Dear Mr Spencer,

Your favourite mail girl is working her fingers to the bone.

He replies quickly.

Wrong answer.

Lie to me.

I smile and close my screen down while I think of what to say. This is so awkward to be sitting next to Sarah while Spencer messages me. I have to tell her about the two of us. I can’t lie like this. It’s eating me alive.

I exhale heavily.

Dear Mr Spencer,

I’m just going through my warm-up exercises.

I go on stage in twenty minutes.

I smirk as I wait for his reply.

Fascinating. Do tell…

What will I write now? I think for a moment.

My stage name is Angel Leroo and

I’m a prima ballerina.

Perhaps you’ve heard of my recent show?

The Nutcracker?

Ironic really. Breaking penises happens to be my hobby.

I hit send and giggle. How on earth do I come up with this stuff?

Dear Angel Leroo,

That is one break I will personally look forward to.

I’m happy to oblige all of your broken penis fantasies.

And I look forward to you kissing it better.

Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?

Does he have any idea how gorgeous he is?

Surprise me.

I’m unable to concentrate at the moment.

I’m busy doing splits.

I smirk as I look around.

Your legs won’t be the only thing splitting tonight.

Thank you for warming up for me.

So thoughtful.

We’ll be having Italian food.

Pick you up at 7:00 p.m.

Spence

xo

I feel myself blush and I close the email. He’s just so naughty.

Two hours later, I’m sitting at my desk staring out the window. Spencer’s pep-talk the other night about deciding to do something, and then going forward and doing it, is playing on my mind.

Perhaps he’s right.

What is holding me back from turning my business dream into a reality?

I mean, I have the money, I have the qualifications, and I definitely know more about the charity sector than most people do. It could be a really great service that could help so many charities.

I just don’t know where to start. How would I even go about it?

Would I get an office here in London and just work by myself for a while until I got established? Or would I go for it straight away and employ a few people so we could hit the ground running? I tap my pen on my chin as I think.

I don’t want to fail.

“I’m so horny.” Sarah sighs beside me. “I think my vagina’s closing up.”

I smile and click open my emails as I listen to her. “I don’t think it has the ability to close up… does it?”

“Did you know that you can lift weights with your Kegel?”

“Huh?” I frown. “Isn’t a Kegel what the actual exercise is called… not your…?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, with your vagina or whatever. But, yeah, it’s true. Nutjobs tie stuff to a weight that they put in their snatch, and they lift then squat and stuff. I saw a chick on Facebook who was carrying a surfboard down the beach once.”

“What?” I gasp.

She giggles. “Imagine that, you ask some guy to meet you down the beach and you rock up with a surfboard hanging out of your pussy.” She widens her eyes as if making a great epiphany. “I should put this on my Tinder profile.” She holds her hands up. “I can carry your surfboard with no hands.”

I laugh out loud. “Honestly, Sarah, what next?”

She laughs, and then falls serious. “I think I’m going to look for another job.”

“You are?” I frown. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe be a receptionist or something. Anything other than spending my days in this shit mailroom.”

“That sounds fantastic.” I smile. “You’d be great at that.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so.”

“But, what would you do if I left? I can’t leave you in this shithole by yourself with Paul. He does nothing.”

I sigh. I have to tell her one day, so I may as well tell her now. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“What?”

“But promise you won’t get mad with me.”

She rolls her eyes. “As if I’ll get mad. Did you give someone upstairs a blowie?”

I laugh. “Why does it always come back to blowies with you? And no, most definitely not. I didn’t really used to work in a nursery.”

“You didn’t?” She frowns.

“No.” I watch her for a moment, pondering how much I should elaborate. Damn it, I should just tell her everything—lay it all out on the table.

“I just wanted a stress-free job for a while.”

“Oh… okay.”

I exhale as I brace myself for her reaction. “You know how I told you that I recently broke up with my boyfriend before I moved to London?”

“Yes.”

“Well…” Oh, how do I say this? “I recently ran into him again and we realised that there was still something there between us.”

“Obviously, if you got back with him.”

“And now it’s really awkward because, well, I don’t want to upset you.”

“Why would you upset me?”

“Because I ran into my ex-boyfriend when I was with you.”

She frowns in confusion. “When?”

“He was your date on our double date. His name is Spencer Jones.”

Her mouth falls open. “Fuck… off,” she whispers.

I cringe. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you and that’s why Spencer left early that night. He was horrified.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you at first. It was all so weird, and then I spent the weekend with him, and he sent me those flowers yesterday. The thing is, I really like you and I can’t lie to you anymore,” I blurt out in a rush.

She shakes her head and exhales heavily. “And what is your real job?”

“I’m a lawyer,” I whisper in embarrassment.

“Of course you fucking are.” She leans back in her chair and hangs her head over the back. “So, let me get this straight. You’re smart and you’re going out with my dream guy?”

I shrug. What else can I do?

“Hmm.” She turns back to her computer.

“What does hmm mean?” I ask as I watch her.

“You can’t carry a surfboard with your snatch like me, though, can you?” She raises her eyebrow sarcastically. “I bet you Spencer doesn’t know that.”

I giggle. “What? You can’t do that.”

“I could if I wanted to. If it’s on my Tinder profile, it must be true.”

We both burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry for lying to you. I just didn’t want to upset you.” I reach over and take her hand. “Are you angry with me? You have to imagine my horror when I realised who your date was.”

“Nah.” She shrugs. “I get it. He’s totally hot, but please put me out of my misery and tell me he’s a complete dud in bed.”

“Completely shit,” I lie.

“Good.” She smirks. “I knew it.”

I trail my lipstick over my lips and smile at myself in the mirror. I can’t wipe the stupid smile from my face.

A date with swoony Spencer Jones, the dreamboat.

I’ve floated through today ever since I told Sarah the truth. I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. She was fine and says she doesn’t hate me.

I mean, there is still that small issue of me telling my family about the two of us, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Who knows, we may not even be seeing each other by the time my family get back.

Of course we will.

I’m trying not to let myself get attached to him, but it’s hard not to. He’s funny, smart, sexy, and he makes me feel so special.

I laugh the whole time I’m with him. What’s between us feels so grown up and real. I turn and take a look at my behind in the mirror. I’m wearing a tight grey dress that has long sleeves and a plunging neckline. My hair is swept up, and I’m wearing long silver earrings to match my high stilettos. I smile as I look over myself.

I look different.

I feel different.

It’s as if Spencer has awakened something inside of me that has been dying to get out for years. Suddenly, I want to dress sexily because he makes me feel sexy. I’ve had this dress for ages, but I’ve never worn it, not once. I’ve put it on before but taken it off before I went out because I thought it was too much.

But I want to be too much for him. I want to be everything.

I hear the front door open, and I smile with excitement.

“Angel?” he calls from downstairs.

“Coming!”

I take one last look at myself and make my way to the stairs. Spencer stares up at me and gives me a slow sexy smile as I walk towards him.

His hands are tucked inside his suit pockets, and the way he is looking at me might just set me on fire.

“Hi.” I smile bashfully when I reach him.

“Hi,” he whispers, his eyes dropping to my lips.

There it is.

The air crackles between us. “You look fucking beautiful.” He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. He turns my hand over and his tongue darts out to slowly lick my wrist.

Oh, he’s just so…

“Thank you,” I murmur, distracted by the feel of his tongue on my skin.

“Maybe we should stay home and eat English instead,” he whispers darkly.

My insides melt. He means he wants me to eat him instead.

I lean forward and take his face in my hands. I kiss him, softly at first, then deeper. I kiss him with everything I have because, damn, he makes me feel everything.

Spencer inhales sharply, his hands coming around to my behind. “Don’t kiss me like that, angel, not unless you want to be flat on your back with your legs over my shoulders within the next thirty seconds.”

I giggle against his lips. “So romantic, Mr Spencer.”

He chuckles as he holds me close. “Four nights,” he murmurs into my hair.

“What?” I frown.

“This is the fourth night in a row that we’ve seen each other.”

“You say that like it’s a rarity for you.” I smirk.

“It is. I’ve never seen a woman four nights in a row before.”

I smile up at him and straighten his tie. “I guess I’d better make this a perfect date for you then, hadn’t I?”

His eyes twinkle with something I haven’t seen before. “You just have to turn up for my night to be perfect.”

We stare at each other and something runs between us. I don’t know what it is exactly. Affection? Closeness? Electricity? Love?

I lean up and kiss his big soft lips. “You make me happy, Spencer Jones,” I whisper.

He grins brightly, almost looking bashful. It makes my heart melt.

“Do you want to go eat some Italian now?”

“What about eating my English?” I smirk.

“Oh.” He chuckles. “It’s your English now, is it?” He grabs my behind and pulls me against his erection.

“Yes, you’re my English. And no to that. We’re going out.” I take him by the hand and lead him to the door. He tries to grab my behind and I swat him away. “We are going out, Spence,” I repeat.

He laughs. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Italian it is.”

Four hours later and I am being twirled around the dance floor while smiling dreamily up at my gorgeous date.

We’ve talked, laughed, and eaten. It’s really surprising how well we actually get along. Even without the crazy attraction and mind-blowing sex, we have something special going on between us.

“I told Sarah about us today,” I admit.

He smirks down at me and raises his eyebrow. “And what did you tell her, exactly?”

One of my hands is resting in his, while his other hand is resting on my hip. As usual, we’re the only ones on the dance floor. I love how he doesn’t care if anyone else is dancing. I think he likes it because he gets to hold me in his arms.

“I told her I was seeing you… casually.”

“Oh?” His eyes hold mine as he waits for me to elaborate.

“Although there was that thing you said yesterday.”

He spins me. “What thing?”

I hesitate. “When you told Wyatt and Anthony that I was your girlfriend.”

He frowns. “I did, didn’t I?”

I smile goofily up at him. “Uh-huh.”

“What possessed me to say that?”

“At a guess, I would think that if you told my bodyguards you were my boyfriend, it was probably because you didn’t want me to see anybody else.”

“Really?” He smirks.

I nod. “Uh-huh.”

“Do you want to see other men?” he asks.

“No.” I frown. “Do you want to see others?”

“What would happen if I did?”

I stop dancing. “Then I would leave you to it!” I snap, annoyed. “I don’t share, Spencer.”

He laughs as he pulls me closer. “Are you getting possessive of me, Prescott?” I pull out of his arms, but he brings me right back to him. “I’m joking with you.” He leans down and whispers in my ear, “I don’t want to see anybody but you.”

“That wasn’t funny,” I whisper back.

I feel him smile above me as he holds me close.

“What is this?” I ask.

“What’s what?”

“This,” I murmur. “Between us. What is it?”

He smiles down at me and then kisses me softly. “I don’t know, but it’s fucking good.”

I smirk, mollified for the moment, and we continue to sway to the music.

“Maybe we should try this boyfriend girlfriend thing,” he finally says.

I press my lips together to hide my smile. “Are you sure? I’ll be a high maintenance girlfriend. I’m not entirely sure if you’re up to the job.”

He spins me as he chuckles. “No?”

“I’ll need lots of massages with oil, and…” I exhale heavily. “There’s the whole teaching me about sex thing. That’s a full-time job in itself.”

He smiles mischievously.

“And my family are a nightmare,” I add.

“I don’t want to date your family.”

“And I’m setting up my own business soon, so I’ll be working a lot.”

He stops dancing. “You’re going to do it?” he asks, suddenly falling serious.

“Do you think I can?”

“I know you can.”

My eyes search his. “You know, you’re the only person who believes I’m strong enough to do this.”

He starts swaying us to the music again. “Isn’t that what boyfriends are meant to do? Believe in their girlfriends.”

I smile against his lips. “I’m glad we met, Spencer Jones.”

“Me, too, angel. Me, too.”

We’re in bed facing each other. It’s late but we don’t want to sleep.

We’re holding hands and staring at each other in the semi lit room.

It’s my sixth day with Spencer, and it’s been six days of utter bliss.

Six days of having this wonderful new person in my life who pleases me beyond anything I’ve ever dreamt of.

Tonight, over drinks in a bar, we wrote a business plan together. He helped me with costings, and we worked out steps in order of what I needed to do.

I think I’m really going to do this.

I feel like I’ve met the other half of myself.

I smile softly at him, and he reaches up to brush his thumb over my bottom lip. “What are you thinking about, Angel Leroo?”

I giggle at him remembering my lie from the other day. “I’m thinking that being a ballerina is really hard work.”

His eyes dance with delight. “What other job would you consider doing?”

“Maybe I could be your private call girl?”

His eyes flicker with arousal. “We would have to do a lot of training to get you up to call girl standards.”

I crawl over him and rub my sex along his length. His eyes hold mine as the electricity buzzes between us. “Can we start now?”

“As a matter of fact, we can.”

“Just a few more stores,” Spencer says. He’s leading me through the shopping centre on Thursday night.

“I’m tired,” I moan as he pulls me along. God, the man is on a shopping spree from Hell. We’ve looked in at least a hundred shops in the last two hours… at least that’s how it feels.

“Stop whining, woman. You’ve got hours to go before bedtime.” He gestures to Wyatt and Anthony, telling them that we are going across the street. He’s grown accustomed to having them with us a lot more easily than I thought he would.

“We’re not having sex tonight,” I warn him.

“So you say.” He smirks. “You’ll do as you’re told.” He cranes his neck. “I just want to look in this toy shop up here. I think they might have what I’m looking for.”

I smile as I walk behind him. Who knew that Spencer Jones, the player, would be so worried about getting just the right gift for his five-year-old niece?

He can act tough all he wants. I know better. The man is a pussy cat.

“Spencer?” a man says from somewhere behind us.

We turn on the street, and Spencer’s face falls immediately. He steps back as if he’s just received a physical blow.

The man is in his mid to late fifties. He’s good-looking and well dressed.

“You got a hug for your old man?” the man asks.

Spencer stares at him, but he doesn’t reply.

The man turns to me and smiles, holding his hand out to shake mine. “Hello, I’m Arthur.”

My eyes widen. He is the mirror image of Spencer… or vice versa.

His father.

Spencer grabs my hand and pulls me behind his back, as if I need protecting from his dad.

“Don’t speak to her. Don’t you dare fucking speak to her,” Spencer growls.

The man’s face falls. “Son…”

“Don’t call me that!” Spencer snaps.

I look between the two men as they stare at each other, and my heart drops. Spence is so hurt. What on earth did his father do?

“When are you going to forgive me?” Arthur asks.

Spencer glares at him. “When Hell freezes over.” He turns and storms off, dragging me along behind him. I have to practically run to keep up.

He’s physically shaken.

I stay silent as we walk, and once out of sight, Spencer turns to Wyatt and Anthony. “That man is not to come near Charlotte under any circumstances, do you understand me?”

Wyatt and Anthony look back at Arthur to get a better visual. “Okay.”

Spencer clenches his jaw as he turns and powers through the people.

“Where are we going?” I call.

“Home,” he says sharply. “I want to go home.”

I lie in the deep hot bath between Spencer’s legs. It’s late.

Spencer has said about five words since we saw his father four hours ago.

He stares straight ahead, and his jaw is continuously clenching.

His hands run over my breasts and back down to my stomach again and again, while he remains lost in thought.

I turn and kiss his bicep softly.

“When was the last time you saw your father?” I ask.

“Ten years ago.”

I frown, that’s a long time.

Spencer takes the soap and lathers his hands before he begins to wash my back without saying another word.

“You don’t get on?” I ask.

“I despise him.”

“Why?” I whisper.

He stares straight ahead for a long time, eventually kissing my temple. “When my mother was pregnant with her last child…” He pauses and frowns, as if it pains him to say the next words out loud. “He got her baby sister pregnant.”

My eyes widen. “He was sleeping with your mother’s younger sister?”

“Yes.”

“How old were you?”

“Two.”

I frown as I process the information. “What happened?”

“My aunt was seventeen…” His voice trails off. “She killed herself before the baby was born.”

My mouth falls open. Dear God.

“How old was your mother?”

“Twenty-two with three children under three.”

I roll over to face him. He stares at me, his eyes cold.

“And you have always hated him?”

“Just the opposite. I loved him once,” he says sadly.

My heart drops.

“Every sports game, every school concert, I would look for him.”

I lie down on his chest as I listen, I hate this story.

“For years I would lie in bed every night crying, and I’d pray to God that I could be smarter so that Dad would come back and love me.”

My eyes fill with tears as I imagine him being so small and crying himself to sleep. “Spence,” I whisper.

“When I was twelve, my mother met my stepfather, and for the first time in my life I had a man around who was actually interested in me. Then, as I got older and I understood the dynamics of what Dad had actually done, I got angry and started to hate him for being who he was. What kind of man sleeps with his pregnant wife’s sister? My aunty was only seventeen when he started sleeping with her.” He shakes his head in disgust. “What kind of man walks away from his own children?”

He drops his head back to the edge of the bath, lost with a faraway look in his eyes as if he’s transgressed to that time. “Masters, Seb, and I found out where Dad lived when we were fourteen. We went to his house and broke in when he wasn’t home, and we smashed up everything he owned.”

“Did that make you feel any better?”

“No.” He clenches his jaw tight. “I hate that I’m like him.”

I frown instantly. “What? You’re not like him, Spencer.”

His sad eyes find mine. “Yeah, I am. All my life, all I’ve ever heard is how much I’m like my father.”

“Only in the way you look,” I huff. “Spence, if you were like your dad you would have taken my virginity without a single thought for my wellbeing.”

He runs his fingers through my hair as he looks at me.

“Spencer, is this why you’ve never let yourself get close to anyone?”

He blinks in surprise.

“You’re so scared that you’re like your father, the thought of hurting someone horrifies you and you’d rather be alone.”

He clenches his jaw, and I know that’s exactly how he feels.

I crawl up over him. “Baby,” I whisper. “You’re nothing like your father.”

His eyes search mine. “How do you know?”

I smile. “I just know. If you were like him, you’d be on your fourth wife by now and have six kids to six different women.”

He stares at me.

“You haven’t even had a girlfriend before, you big dope.”

A trace of a smile crosses his face.

“When I look at you I see an honourable man with good morals—a man I am proud to be with.”

We stare at each other for a moment before he crushes his arms around me and holds me close. I smile into his neck.

I think I just found Spencer Jones’s baggage.

Big, warm hands slide around my waist from behind, and the smell of his heavenly soap lingers around me.

“Good morning, Mr Spencer.” I smile as he turns me to him.

He’s wearing a navy suit, his hair messed up to perfection yet again. Wearing his expensive shoes and watch, he looks every bit the multi-millionaire businessman that he is.

One thing I’ve learnt about my man over the last week is that he has two distinct personalities. There’s the carefree, funny Spence I first met who makes me laugh, and then there’s the serious businessman of Spencer Jones. He’s strong, deliberate, and he doesn’t take shit from anybody.

Both men are beautiful, and both men are mine.

He grabs my waist and sits me up onto the counter, spreading my legs around his body. He holds my jaw, angling me the way he wants me, and kisses me deeply as he slides his hands beneath my robe.

“Let’s go away for the weekend.”

“Really?” I smile up at him. “Where to?”

“I don’t know, I’ll surprise you.”

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” I smile playfully.

He pulls my hips forward so I can feel his erection through his trousers. “How about I surprise you here on the kitchen counter with a bit of hard dicking?”

I giggle. “I am completely dicked-out.”

“There’s no such thing.” He bites into my neck. Goose bumps scatter up my arms.

It’s early on Monday morning, and after spending the most wonderful weekend in the history of all weekends, it’s time for us to separate and go back to work.

“I have to go, angel,” he whispers.

I smile and nod as our eyes search each other’s. I feel so close to him, and I know he feels the same. There’s this tenderness between us. I can feel it in his touch. When he thinks I’m asleep, his hands roam over my body in reverence, and he kisses me softly… continually… and he doesn’t even know I’m awake.

He worships me.

He’s so beautiful.

Spencer runs his finger down my face. I feel like I want to blurt it all out and tell him that, yeah, maybe I think I love him.

But I won’t because it’s too soon.

We’ve been together for all of ten days. Maybe I’m misjudging our closeness for love. I don’t even know what the protocol for this is. When is it okay to acknowledge how you feel? When is it okay to say it out loud?

His big blue eyes hold mine. He lingers, waiting, and I have to wonder… does he feel it, too?

Whatever it is.

“Spence…” I whisper.

“Yeah.” He kisses me softly.

My stomach twists as I try to hold in the words. “I’m going to miss you today,” I breathe out.

He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Good.” He kisses me deeply. “You can show me how much when I see you tonight.”

His tongue slides through my lips, and he gently tugs at my bottom lip with his teeth. We kiss again, only this time he’s using the same force he uses when we fuck.

There’s no mistaking it, Spencer’s fucking-kiss is a hell of a lot different to his relaxed-kiss. It has an edge that’s as sharp as a knife. Not that I’m complaining, of course.

He lies me back over the counter, pulls my robe to the side, and slides two thick fingers into my sex. His eyes drop as he watches my body take him in.

My mouth falls open.

He gives a subtle shake of his head. “You’ll be the fucking death of me, woman. I can’t get enough of this sexy body of yours.”

I giggle quietly.

He removes his fingers and puts them in his mouth. When he sucks them, his eyes darken and he hums in appreciation.

“I’m going to be late, Prescott.”

I nod. “Go…”

With one last kiss, he turns and picks up his briefcase. “See you tonight.” He flashes me a sexy wink. “Behave yourself today.”

I smile from my position on the kitchen bench. “Bye.”

The front door clicks closed.

I lie for a moment in a state of awe. How he can get me from zero to gagging for it in five seconds flat is beyond me.

Finally, I drag myself upstairs and make my way to the wardrobe.

I look around and smile. It’s filled with Spencer’s suits and clothes. Four shirts on hangers and three suits hang there like they own the space. There’s also two pairs of dress shoes, a watch, his deodorant, aftershave, a laptop, and his earphones. He’s taking over this damn wardrobe.

He’s taking over me.

All of his things are mixed in with mine, so I begin to hang his on the other side, organising him his own space. I pick up a coat hanger with a pair of suit pants on it, and the pants slide off the hanger. I catch them mid-air and feel something in the pocket.

I reach inside and pull out a hotel key. I stare at it in my hand.

The Corinthia.

Why would he have a hotel key to The Corinthia? That’s weird.

I move around a few things and put them in their place, but my mind is already in overdrive.

Who does he know that stays in London from out of town?

Sheridan.

Don’t be stupid.

I put the key back into his suit pants, and I hang them back up in disgust.

Think about it, Charlotte, I tell myself.

He has everything dry cleaned. He’s almost OCD when it comes to his suits, so that’s not an old key.

Why would he have a key to her room?

I begin to pace in the bedroom, back and forth, back and forth.

He’s been seeing her for ten years. She comes to London for business often. Has she been here this week? If the suit pants are here, it means he’s worn them this week while we’ve been together.

Has he met with her?

I pace for another twenty minutes with my mind in overdrive. This is going to send me insane.

It’s an old key. It has to be an old key.

There’s only one way to find out.

Stop it!

More pacing.

“Why does he have that key?” I ask the universe, hoping to get a reasonable response.

Damn this, I need to know.

I get dressed in record time and take the key from his pants again. I grab my handbag and I run to the foyer, hitting the elevator button as quickly as I can. If I go now, I can be back before the boys come to get me for work.

Fifteen minutes later, the taxi I’m in pulls up outside The Corinthia, and I tentatively step out.

What are you doing here, you fool?

Trust him!

I walk in casually, and I make my way to the elevator. I get in and scan the key, watching as it lights up.

My heart drops at once. The key is still active.

He’s seen her recently, he has to have to have gotten this key.

I begin to hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears, and I stumble out of the elevator and lean up against the wall, unable to go upstairs. Knowing the key is active is enough.

The second elevator opens beside mine, and a beautiful woman with long, dark hair steps out of it. She’s wearing a navy skirt suit, and I can tell her figure is amazing. The power she emanates is overwhelming. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention as I watch her, and somehow I just know.

I know it’s her.

“Here you are, Sheridan,” a woman calls as she steps towards her and hands her a cup of coffee.

“Thank you, darling.” She smiles. “Do we have the spreadsheets ready?” she asks in an American accent.

My heart drops again. That’s her. She’s here.

Spencer has a key to her room.

My eyes fill with tears. All I can do is stand still as I watch her and her two assistants climb into the back of a black cab and drive away.

I don’t remember getting back to the Four Seasons. My mind is a clusterfuck of emotions. My heart is hammering hard in my chest.

One side of me is unable to believe that my Spencer is capable of cheating on me.

The other side is unable to believe that ten days with me could ever compete with ten years with her.

She’s beautiful.

Lara’s words come back to me from the first time we saw him.

“He dates power women. CEO’s, fashion designers, models, women like that.”

I stumble up the stairs and place the key back inside the pocket of his suit pants. I sit on the bed in a state of shock.

I have no idea what to do.

It’s just gone 6:00 p.m., and I’m sitting at the kitchen counter with a glass of wine in my hand. I’ve had a horrible day.

Imagining him with her, all their years together, the history they share… it’s driven me insane.

Does she satisfy him better than I do?

Of course, she would.

My phone rings and the name Spencer lights up the screen.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Hi, angel.” His happy voice is practically singing down the phone.

“Hey.” My nerves begin to swirl deep inside my stomach.

“Listen, baby, I forgot that I have a work dinner on tonight.”

I close my eyes and get a lump in my throat. “Sure.” I force the words past my lips.

“I don’t know what time it’s going to finish, so I’ll just see you tomorrow night, okay?”

My eyes fill with tears. He hasn’t slept away from me since we got together. “Okay,” I whisper.

“You okay?”

I shake my head as I screw up my face in tears. “Sure,” I lie. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a nice night.” I hang up, unable to hide my emotions from him for one moment longer.

I drop the phone and walk up the stairs, my body working on autopilot. I open the wardrobe door and go to the suit pants to feel inside the pocket. I check the other pocket and I check again.

The key is gone.

It was there this morning.

Spencer came back here today while I was at work to get the key.

I drop to the floor of the walk-in wardrobe, and my face creases with the agony of it all.

He’s with her now.