by Ava Harrison
“Where are you going?” he asks from the bed.
“Out on the balcony. I want to look at the stars.” It sounds like a plausible excuse. I don’t want him to know I’m getting panicky over my feelings for him.
He smiles. “I’ll join you.”
I nod and wait for him to throw on a pair of sweat pants. Once done, he walks up to me and trails his hand down my arm until he encases my hand in his.
We walk out into the dark, night stars shining on us from above. He sits in a lounger, grasping me around the waist to sit on top of him.
“You smell so good,” he says, running his nose up my neck and placing a kiss below my ear.
I shudder at the touch. “I smell like you.” I laugh.
“Yes, you do. I like that.”
At that moment, fireworks explode overhead as if we’re in the middle of a movie. There’s a festival of some sort happening in the streets not far from our villa. You can hear the people cheer at the display.
“This is a perfect night.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” he groans into my neck.
“Thank you for bringing me here.”
His grip tightens around my waist. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to be here with me.”
I turn my head to look at him. “Do you mean that?”
“Of course. I would never lie to you, Olivia.”
I sigh. “It’s just putting ideas into my head and it’s not good.”
He turns me the rest of the way so I’m straddling him. “What type of ideas?”
I mewl. “You know exactly what kind of ideas. This is ending in a couple of days. We both agreed that was what’s to happen. I agreed, Spencer, and now . . .”
“Go on,” he prompts.
“Now I’m not sure if that’s what I want.” I hang my head, embarrassed at my admission.
He brings his hand below my chin, raising it so that our eyes meet once more. “You’re right. You weren’t supposed to want that. We agreed.”
I nod, wanting to cry but refusing to allow my body to betray me so greatly.
“But things change, Olivia. I haven’t met a woman in a long time who I wanted to see again. Who I wanted to spend time with.”
My heart stops.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I will myself to replay his last words to assure myself I heard him correctly.
“What are you saying, Spencer?”
“I’m not done with you”—he motions between the two of us—“with this.” I wait for him to say not yet. Because eventually, he will be done but I don’t say that. Instead, I ask him to clarify before I get my hopes up.
My brow rises. “You’re going to have to explain to me now.”
“I want to see you when we get back to the States.”
“Meaning?” I press, needing him to confirm. I won’t let him off easy. He needs to say the words.
He chuckles. “I want to try, Olivia.” He smiles. “I want to get to know you, and for you to get to know me.”
I kiss him. Hard.
After several minutes we break apart. “I’ve never wanted something like this before,” he admits. “It scares the fuck out of me.”
“Me too.” I smile. “You came out of nowhere and just kinda stuck on me.”
He laughs. “So I’m a leech?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh.
“I suppose a very good-looking leech.”
“Now there isn’t any reason to hole you up in this room. That’s as long as you’re all right with the media finding out about us.”
I smile. “I couldn’t care less about them.”
“Let’s get some sleep so we can see Barcelona tomorrow.”
I sleep soundly in his arms. Knowing that we have a possible future puts me at ease and on cloud nine.
“Holy hell,” I mutter out. My eyes are stretching wide to take in the sight before me. “This is fantastic.”
“It is pretty amazing.” I look over at Spencer. He’s appraising the magnificent building, but not in the same way I am. He’s looking at it with respect, with precision.
“I love coming here. Seeing this inspires me. I look at the lines. The details. I imagine my buildings, my designs stretching out into the horizon.”
“I don’t even know what that’s like. To see something like this and be inspired . . . I don’t have that.”
Spencer looks down at me, his chest rising and falling slowly. His eyes are narrow with concern.
“Isn’t there something that you feel passionately for?”
My stomach feels like it will bottom out. Is there anything I’ve ever felt passion for? “Honestly. I don’t know.” When the shit hit the fan in college, about my dad having an affair and fathering another kid, I dropped out and then I went off to model. I was so distracted partying I didn’t think of anything else. When my grades slipped, it was just easier to give up. Modeling fit right in with my life at the time. It never even dawned on me to do anything else.
The rough pads of Spencer’s hands lift my chin up. “What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?”
“I-I don’t know . . .” I admit on a sigh. “I never thought about it.” I don’t say anything else. What would I say? I allowed my family life to mess with my future. I let myself get completely lost until I almost hit rock bottom and lost everything. I can’t say that, so instead I shake my head and plaster the biggest smile on my face. I do what I’d been programmed to do—smile big to the camera, show my best profile, look pretty—only with Spencer, it is hard to be plastic. He peeled the layer I put on when I face the world, and he deserves more than this. More than the fake-me. “I fucked up in college,” I admit on a sigh. “With everything with my family . . .” My hands run through my hair as I try to explain what I’m trying to say. “I used it as an excuse to not try. I took the easy way out and started modeling rather than figure out what I really wanted from life.” It’s quiet for a minute. Neither of us speaks, but Spencer must sense my desire to not talk about it anymore because he pulls me toward him. “Come on. I want to show you the view from the top.”
Once at the top of the building, my words are lost in my throat as I come face-to-face with nature at its most unique, with concrete art meeting urban superiority.
This moment. With Spencer. There are no words. With the city around us, the sun beating down on me. My hand encased in his.
This moment is the beginning of something special. I can feel it. By the way he squeezes my hand he can feel it too. There’s air in my lungs, but I can’t seem to get rid of it or breathe deeper. I feel alive—so raw and perfect—I want to take this moment and place it in a bell jar. I want to remember it. The scent of his aftershave—bitter on my lips and sweet on my skin. His strong features as he stares at the view in the eye like he defies it. I don’t even mind that his attention is divided between the stunning landscape and me.
Because it’s not. Not really.
We’re one in this moment. An entity that has no beginning, middle or end.
We blend together; we mesh and create something beautiful and different.
We’re in a snow globe that belongs only to us, and I don’t dare shake it.
For once in my life, I want it to stay still and quiet. No flakes. No storm. No nothing.
Just Spencer and me.
Just when happiness meets life.
The next several days are magical.
With no end looming in sight, we can just relax and enjoy our time together. We see all of the famous sights of Barcelona and then some. We window shop and even find the most perfect snow globe to always remind me of my time here.
Now I’m bone tired, so I head back to the villa while Spencer goes to scope out the property. At some point I must have fallen asleep because I’m awoken by soft kisses being trailed up my neck.
“Do you have a love affair going on with my neck?” I tease.
“Mmm-hmmm,” he murmurs softly.
“How was the property?”
&n
bsp; “It was great. I don’t like it as much as I did Antibes, but it will do nicely for a hotel.”
“There’s no better property than the one in Antibes,” I say wistfully.
“Get up. I’m taking you to dinner.”
“Do I have to move?”
“Yes. Take as much time as you want to get ready and then we’ll leave.”
“Do you have reservations?”
“I don’t need reservations.”
I turn to look at him, eyes widened in mock surprise at his ego. “Why, Mr. Lancaster, you have quite a sense of self-importance.”
“Guess it comes with actually being important,” he deadpans dryly.
“Well then, by all means, show me just how important you are.”
“I’ll show you how important I am,” he says, rolling me on top of him.
I can’t help but giggle at his playfulness. “If we start this up, we’ll never get out the door.”
“True story.”
“Although dinner is sounding better by the minute.”
He throws a pouty face my way, looking all sorts of adorable.
“Take me out on the Barcelona town. It’s not every day we’re in a beautiful country.” I stand and rush to take a shower. When I emerge from the bathroom, a garment bag is lying across the bed. I narrow my eyes at the thing. Where did it come from? I call out for Spencer, but I don’t receive a reply. In true Spencer form, there’s a note lying next to the bag.
Olivia,
I purchased this earlier today. I’m sure you’ll look gorgeous in it. Go ahead and get ready, and when you’re done, come meet me in the lobby bar.
Spencer
I smile at his thoughtfulness. Who knew someone so opposed to relationships could be so good at one? I unzip the bag and gasp at the beauty of it. It’s a knee-length black cocktail dress. As I inspect it further, I find it has a slit clear up the side, making it sexy.
I slide it over my body, and it fits like a glove. I look into the mirror and have to smile at the elegance of it. Mr. Lancaster sure does have amazing taste.
I can’t wait for him to see me in this.
I finally make it down to the lobby bar, and stop short when I see a stunning woman leaning in toward Spencer. My back goes straight, and I have the sudden urge to vomit. I watch as the strange woman laughs at something Spencer says. His back is stiff, and he’s not smiling, which helps to ease my worry, but the bottom line is, he hasn’t moved away from her.
All the stories about Spencer and his playboy ways play through my mind like a bad movie. Now that we’re together, will he stay faithful? I have to mentally smack myself. This is a new relationship, and I need to trust him. He’s done nothing to give me reasons to doubt him, so I have to believe he’s just being friendly.
I straighten my back and walk with confidence toward my boyfriend and the woman who’s stealing his attention. When he sees me, a slow, sexy smile breaks out across his face. The woman notices his gaze and follows it to me. Her face falls when she sees me. I internally smirk.
Spencer stands and makes his way toward me, not even glancing back at the woman. When he reaches me, he takes me in his arms and kisses me. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I breathe.
“They have a table ready for us.”
I incline my head, looking toward the woman once more.
“Don’t worry about her. She’s no one. Just someone I’m doing business with.”
I purse my lips. “She clearly is somebody.” My words drip with disdain, and I have to will myself to rein it in. The last thing I want to do is sound like an insecure, jealous girlfriend. “I’m sorry. Let’s enjoy our evening.” I smile up at him, hoping he agrees to drop it. His return smile is answer enough. He takes my hand in his and leads me toward the back of the restaurant where they have set up a private table. “It’s beautiful,” I say in awe.
White candles illuminate the plush navy tablecloth, and a large chandelier hangs above giving the private room a soft glow. I notice that two places are set with elegant place settings and a bottle of expensive champagne. My shoulders uncoil from my previous bout of jealousy. He really went all out.
Spencer pulls out the chair for me to sit. Soon a waiter is tableside, ready to pop the champagne. Spencer dismisses him shortly after he shares the specials so we can decide on our meals.
“This is amazing. Thank you, Spencer.”
“I’m happy you’re here with me. Besides, we have much to celebrate.”
I raise a brow. “Do tell.”
“We agreed on a price for the Barcelona property. Paperwork should be drawn up shortly.”
“That’s wonderful. Congratulations, Spencer.” I clap my hands, truly excited.
“It’s a great deal. I’m very pleased.”
Dinner is wonderful. We celebrate, eat, and eventually fall into easy conversation. We’re holding hands, discussing plans for when we get back to New York when Spencer’s phone begins to vibrate. He pulls his hand away from me and checks the name on the screen. Small lines start to mar his perfect face and every muscle in his body seems to tense.
“Everything all right?” I ask, concerned.
“Yeah, it’s just—”
His words are cut off by a commotion in the next room. The next thing we know, people are swarming into our room, cameras drawn and snapping picture after picture. Questions are being hurled our way so fast I can’t even process what’s happening.
“What the fuck is going on?” Spencer’s voice booms loud over the uproar.
“Mr. Lancaster, did you know your mystery woman is Olivia Miller?”
He narrows his eyes. “I’m well aware of who my girlfriend is. What’s the meaning of all of this?” he bellows, irritated.
“Did you know she’s a recovering coke addict?”
Spencer flinches.
“That she’s best known for passing out on the runway?”
“I think you have your facts mixed up. You all need to leave now before I call the authorities.”
“Mr. Lancaster, aren’t you embarrassed to be slumming it?”
He stands abruptly, ready to pummel someone. I jump to my feet, trying to stop him. “Spencer. Wait.”
The manager comes running in. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Lancaster. These rats got past our hostess. I’ve called the authorities.” I go to Spencer’s side, grabbing his hand, pulling him away from the photographers.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” I mumble out looking down at the floor in shame.
“I need a few minutes, Olivia. Let me help get the assholes out of here, and I’ll be back, okay?”
I nod. Spencer and the manager usher the photographers out of the room, and I’m left alone.
Spencer and I have talked about a lot of things these two past weeks, but my sordid past wasn’t one of them. I didn’t want him to know that I’m a recovering addict. He’s so strong and professional, and I’m pathetic and weak. I didn’t want him to see that about me so soon. It’s too soon.
I sit at the table, waiting for Spencer. I wait and wait . . .
But he doesn’t return.
When the lobby manager, and I finally get these fucking pricks out of the bar, I step out back for some fresh air. I’m devastated that Olivia had to be ambushed like that. I know she’s a model, but I’m sure she’s not used to the paparazzi harassing her at dinner.
The words the assholes threw at me come back to mind. Recovering coke addict. Olivia said her past was bad, but a coke addiction? We clearly have a lot to talk about.
I start my way back to her when my phone begins buzzing in my pocket. I look down to see it’s Grant, again. My brother and I haven’t spoken in forever. If he’s calling me something has to be wrong. I click accept and hold my breath.
“Hello?”
“Spencer.” Grant’s voice is strained.
“What’s wrong?”
“You need to come home. It’s Dad.” The fact that Grant is talking about ou
r father has my back stiffening and sweat breaking against my skin. Grant hasn’t seen nor spoken to our father in over five years. This can’t be good.
“I’ll be there.”
I don’t even have to think about it. I’m running into motion. I hail a cab, not wanting to wait for a car. I’ll have my bags packed up from the villa and shipped home. I’m halfway to the airport when I realize I left Olivia.
Fuck.
I’m such a fucking prick. I’m not good at this stuff. I’ve never really dated before, and I’ve certainly never had to worry about running out on a girl. I dial her number, needing to apologize profusely and hoping she understands. It goes straight to voice mail. I cue it up once more and again, it goes to voice mail. Hanging up, I don’t leave a message. Instead, I call the lobby bar and a female answers right away. I ask her to tell Olivia that I’ve had a family emergency and had to leave immediately and to have her call me right away. She agrees.
I’ve done all I can do right now. I just have to focus on getting home to my dad.
I sit at the table, worried and confused. He helped usher the paparazzi out and then never returned. Are the details of my past too much? Surely, he wouldn’t leave me here by myself. No. He wouldn’t. Would he? I don’t know what to think or how to feel at this particular moment, but embarrassment quickly takes center stage.
The room is empty save for me, but I’ll be forced to walk alone through the lobby bar where everyone saw me come in with Spencer. Now I’ll just look like one of his companions. Not special enough to come back for.
A familiar pang of disappointment falls over me. The desperate need to be numb is stifling. There’s a good reason why addicts continuously fall off the wagon. It’s not just temptation. It’s life. Sometimes it’s too much to handle.
I stand on wobbly legs, forcing myself to walk out of here. It would be worse to have someone come and escort me out. I hope he’s paid the bill because if not, I’m in trouble. I don’t have a dime to my name right now. I’m standing here in the lobby bar with a dress that he picked out and paid for and I’ve been left, discarded like trash. I feel like a prostitute more than ever.
