“It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;— it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.” The words tumble softly from my lips and into Spencer’s silky hair as I lean my chin against his scalp.
And the ringing of my cellphone pierces through the silence, breaking our cocoon of solitude.
Spencer stirs and rolls to his side of the bed with a long, pained groan.
I glance at the clock on my nightstand before hitting the ‘answer’ button.
It’s nearly 11:45.
“Hello?” I say with irritation, already knowing that it’s my mother. I ease into the hallway so as not to interrupt Spencer’s sleep.
“Bambi – I know what it is about him.” My mother’s voice is strained with angst.
“You know what it is about who?” I say making no attempt to veil my displeasure at her late-night phone call.
“Your boyfriend – I know what his secret is –“ she presses.
I snap at her. “Okay, mom – you’re going to stop this right now. I’m tired of you trying to sabotage every relationship I’ve ever had. You will not plant seeds of insecurity in this relationship. You don’t even know Spencer, for Christ’s sake.”
“You’re wrong, Bambi –“
I cut her off despite the tone of urgency in her voice. “I said stop it – As a matter of fact, I won’t be taking your phone calls until you apologize and drop this stupid mission of yours to have me old and alone and miserable. Good night, mother.” With that, I cut the call and return to my bed.
I pull the sheets up around my neck because now, my mother’s shrill words have me shivering.
The seed of insecurity struggles to take root.
But all I have to do to dislodge it is to look over at Spencer, sleeping peacefully by my side.
There is no secret, I say to myself. This man is an open book.
And I cling to that thought as I flick off the lights and cuddle into the warmth of his body. And that’s enough to shoo any doubts back into the shadows.
Chapter 24
When the elevator doors slide open on the 30th floor just before noon the next morning, I give the receptionist my widest, most self-assured smile and I stride through the doors of DisSpence Development Group’s corporate offices.
As I walk through the open workspace I flash toothy smiles at all of my curious new coworkers and marvel at how Spencer could run a billion-dollar company with a staff of less than twenty.
Damn – My man is smart, rich, sexy and efficient!
When I reach the foot of the stairs leading to Spencer’s office, Isabella informs me that he’s just stepped out for a meeting and that she will show me to my office. She ushers me to a spacious room on the east-facing side of the office suite. In awe, I take in the rustic wooden tabletop sitting atop gleaming chrome legs, the padded stainless steel executive chair, the vibrant potted plants near the full-length windows.
“Are you sure this is my office?” I ask in a sheepish voice turning to face a glowing Isabella.
She pushes past me towards the bouquet of purple daisies sitting on the edge of my desk. “Only the best for the boss’ girlfriend,” she says with a wink as she pushes the bouquet into my hands.
I pull at the papyrus card sticking out between the flowers and read the note:
To my beautiful Amber on the first day of our exciting, new adventure.
Love,
Spencer.
I feel a slight tug at my heart.
Seventy-two hours ago I was groveling in a stuffy cubicle clinging desperately to a job that gave my excruciating bouts of anxiety. And today…
I settle into my chair and again, I take in my beautiful new office.
This is definitely a come-up.
Just as I’m powering up my laptop, Stella pokes her head into my office. “Hi newbie,” she says playfully as she steps over the threshold. She puts her hands on her hips and looks around the office, nodding dramatically. “Nice digs, kid,” she says with a wink.
“I know, right?” I say chuckling. “And to think that I was mourning having to quit my job at Cartwright.
“Well, let me say this – your cubicle-bound homies at Cartwright would be very, very jealous of you. I mean – look at that view!” she gestures towards the Big Apple skyline behind me as she approaches the window. “It makes me wanna take a selfie and post it to Instagram just for the heck of it!” She says with a Cheshire grin.
That makes me laugh.
“I’m only here for a few hours today settling in, but I was thinking we could go grab a bite at the bistro on the ground floor. How does that sound?” She props her hip up against the window frame.
“I’m starving,” I confess.
“Okay. Grab your stuff. Let’s go.”
I take my purse from where it’s sitting on the corner of my desk and slip the strap onto my shoulder. I pull the door behind me and Stella and I make our way down to the crowded lobby.
A hostess escorts us to a cozy booth near the window of the bustling restaurant. Once the waitress brings us our drinks – a glass of white wine for me and a sparkling water for Stella – we place our lunch orders. Stella barely skims the menu before asking for the soup of the day even though it’s about a thousand degrees outside. I opt for a chicken salad.
“Oh, how I miss alcohol,” Stella mopes as I sip on my drink.
I tilt my glass in her direction. “To the joys of motherhood,” I say in a mocking toast.
She scowls. “The joys of motherhood – which you will soon know first-hand if the way Spencer talks about you is any indication.” She tips her glass at me now.
I blush instantly. The truth is that many of my recent daydreams have starred Spencer and me raising a beautiful family together, but I have yet to confess this to anyone.
Sensing my discomfort, Stella continues, “He’s crazy about you, y’know. You’re all he thinks about, all he talks about. And I’m starting to feel like he’s molding all of his business decisions around your interests.”
“Jeez – that’s overwhelming,” I whisper running my fingers up and down the stem of the wine glass.
“Don’t be overwhelmed,” Stella says playfully slapping my hand. “You’re an amazing girl. I’ve known that since the day your employment application landed on my desk.”
My eyes dart to her face. “My employment application? You were involved in hiring me?”
A look flashes across her face. It’s like she wishes she could take back those last words. “Yes,” she says, sheepishly. “I was one of the lawyers on the hiring committee at Cartwright.”
“Wow! Thanks for hiring me – despite the way that everything worked out, that job meant a lot to me. It’s so hard to find an internship at a firm that pays as well as Cartwright does,” I smile warmly at her. When she doesn’t respond, I add, “So, what stood out for you in my application? Why did you hire me out of the hundreds of candidates who applied to Cartwright?”
She smiles and squirms nervously in her seat before saying, “Well, would you look at that – It’s almost 12:30. I’ve gotta go – mommy duties.” Without waiting for my reaction, she grabs her purse and slips out of the booth. “I’ll take care of the bill on the way out. I’ll be working from home tomorrow, so see you by the end of the week.”
Before I can make sense of her odd behavior, she slips into the crowd and I loose sight of her.
Eventually, the waitress shows up with my salad and I push it around my plate for a good fifteen minutes before I get up and walk out of the bistro, a strange sinking feeling pulling me down like an anchor latched to my ankles.
Chapter 25
I go for a short walk around the block just to clear my head.
I shuffle back into my office nearly a half hour later still feeling confused and slightly alarmed by Stella’s behavior at the bistro.
I stop by Isabella’s desk to
ask if Spencer is in yet, but she’s not there. Like most of the workers in the office, she is still off to lunch.
I heave a ragged sigh as I cross over the threshold into my office and plop my bag down on my desk.
I hear the door slam shut behind me.
“Amber Denise Roberts!”
I nearly jump out of my skin when I spin around and find my mother standing stone-faced at my office door.
Chapter 26
“Mother, what on earth are you doing here? How did you even find me?” My questions crash into each other as they rush out of my mouth.
“Young lady, why the hell have you been avoiding my calls? That is sure as hell not how I raised you!” she wags an accusatory finger at me as she approaches me slowly.
“Mom – I – I.” I could manage to sass her over the phone, but in person, it’s a whole different story.
“I have been worried sick about you, Amber. Running around out here with that dangerous man of yours. I spent $700 to get a plane ticket, nearly $200 on cab fare riding around this city looking for you.” Her voice is cracking now and tears are beginning to gather in her angry blue eyes. “You moved out of your apartment, you quit your job and you didn’t tell me. Amber, you are 24 years old in New York City rolling around in bed with a psycho. I was worried sick.”
I don’t bother to remind her that I’m actually 25. That’s not relevant right now.
My mother is taking name-calling to a whole new level. It’s not that her cruel words surprise me – after all, my mother’s approach to her daughters’ boyfriends is two-tiered. In phase one, she flirts shamelessly with them in that signature way of hers that has driven my poor father to take up the bottle. In phase two, she bashes them relentlessly in a way that ultimately drives them away. That’s precisely what happened with Eden’s boyfriend, Tony, shortly after Dylan was born.
Nevertheless, it burns to hear her speak about Spencer with such malice – he means so much to me. Plus, she’s never even met him.
“Don’t talk about Spencer like that,” I bark defensively, “You don’t even know him!”
“You’re naïve, Bambi. You don’t know him.” My mother’s face contorts as she spits those bitter words at me.
“You need to leave. I’m at work,” I say rounding the desk to sink into my chair.
She grabs me by the shoulders and turns me to face her before I arrive at my destination. “Amber – He’s been stalking you. For years. At least since rehab. He’s been following you and manipulating your path so that eventually, you would end up right here –“ she gestures to the room with her pointed chin as she shakes me lightly, “—right in the palm of his hands.”
“What are you talking about?” I cry out.
My mother steps back from me and slips her slender fingers into her purse. She pulls out a weathered picture. I take it in both hands. I study the picture before glancing up at her quizzically. “It’s me,” I say, “The day I left rehab. And that’s Dr. Douglas handing me a thirty-day sobriety chip.”
“No – look here,” my mother insists poking at the photo with her glossy red fingernail.
I move her hand out of the way and my attention shifts to the face of a petite woman with wavy deep brown hair flowing just past her shoulders and radiant olive skin.
I feel like all the air has been sucked out of the room.
“Stella,” I gasp softly bringing my palm to my mouth to restrain a shriek.
“No, silly – who’s Stella?” My mother’s impatience has gotten the best of her. “It’s him – he’s there.”
I look closely at the man whispering into Stella’s ear. A thick beard covers most of his face, but I’d recognize that brown-gold hair anywhere.
“It’s Spencer Harrison. He was there the day you left rehab.”
I feel my knees go weak and I reach for the desk behind me in hopes of finding stability.
Just then, my office door swings open and when the large cluster of bright, colorful balloons gives way, Spencer’s beautiful, lying, deceitful face comes into full view.
When the Night is Over
(The Esquire Girls Series)
Amber (book 4)
Cassie-Ann L. Miller
Chapter 1
I sink deeper and deeper into the claw-foot porcelain tub until the sweet smelling foam feathers my chin and even then, I consider sinking deeper still.
But I stop myself.
As low as I feel right now, I’ve been lower. And I’ve climbed back up.
I have to remind myself of that over and over again.
I rest my cheek against the porcelain and look out the arched windows. I’m confronted by a stark brick wall and not much else.
Still, I prefer that stark brick wall over the images I encounter every time I close my eyes.
Each and every time my eyes flutter shut, the same scene is projected by my mind, replaying against the screen that is the back of my eyelids.
I see it all in slow motion.
I see him there, standing in the doorway, a dozen balloons in hand.
Congratulations!
Welcome to the team!
You’re the best!
That’s what the balloons say.
I see the wide grin plastered across his handsome face as he makes smooth strides across the room, his hand outstretched as he introduces himself to my mother.
I hear the loud clack of her open palm making contact with his cheek.
The cords slipping from his fingers and the bouquet of balloons drifting towards the ceiling.
The loud pops resonating throughout the room as the balloons burst one by one upon contact with the rough concrete ceiling.
I hear myself crying hysterically, shoving the photograph into his face, rage bouncing off of my skin. That photograph of Spencer and Stella, lurking in the background on the day that I was released from rehab.
I hear the ragged sound of his voice promising that he could explain. That there is an explanation. That I should listen to him.
But over the shrillness of my mother’s heated accusations and the urgency in his begging pleas and the deafening emotions swooshing through my ears, I can’t make sense of anything and there’s just too much to feel.
That’s why I ran.
I ran away from the sound of my mother screaming that she told me so and Spencer telling new lies to cover his earlier lies.
I grabbed my purse and I ran out of the DisSpence office.
I took the emergency stairs. Thirty floors down. My legs weaker with each step.
When I got to the lobby, I realized that I had nowhere to go.
My new “home” was a condo that Spencer still legally owned even after he convinced me to move out of the Brooklyn apartment that I had shared with my roommate, Oksana. My new job was at Spencer’s company after he had helped me literally “screw” my way out of my dream job at Cartwright Moretti Stevenson.
In one fell swoop, I lost, not only the man that I love, but also my new job and the roof over my head.
And there’s still more salt to add to my oozing wounds – I’m struggling to come to grips with the fact that meeting Spencer Harrison, falling in love with him – that wasn’t a coincidence and it wasn’t just fate.
It was a meticulously executed plan by a devastatingly calculating man. It was a plan he devised to get me into his life and into his bed.
Betrayed?
Betrayed doesn’t begin to describe the gut-wrenching emotion that I feel.
The realization that my relationship with Spencer was built on something less than the truth is overwhelming to me. I can’t bear it. We didn’t just meet and innocently fall in love – he engineered our entire relationship and that thought makes me sick.
He betrayed me. He lied to me, at least by omission. And I can’t take it.
We’d shared beautiful, passionate nights together, but now that those nights are over, it’s clear that we never had anything real at all.
Fuck!
&nbs
p; So, that’s how I ended up at this overpriced hotel in midtown for the past three days, drinking and crying in the bathtub, hoping the tepid water will rejuvenate my limp body.
I jump, startled, when I hear the bathroom door creak open.
“Hey,” Hailey says in her soft Texan drawl as she enters the room. I’ve been so enraptured in my painful thoughts that I forgot that she was even here. She, Nadia and Ruthie have been taking turns checking in on me. I try to smile at her but it feels like smiling would require more energy than I have right now. She slides down to the black and white checkered tiles, crossing her legs under her. She props her chin up against the side of the tub. “Feeling any better?” she asks.
Amber Nights - The Esquire Girls Series - Amber's Story (Books 1, 2, 3 & 4) - Box Set Page 18
