by Swan, T L
“No.”
“Would it bother you if I were with someone else now?”
“Yes,” he replies without hesitation.
I smile softly and stay silent.
It’s like he’s going through some kind of inner turmoil and doesn’t know how to handle it.
“I won’t be, Spence.” I kiss his chest. “I won’t be with anyone else. But you already know that, don’t you?”
He stares straight ahead.
“Is that what’s bothering you?” I ask. “The fact that I don’t fuck around—that this is special to me?”
His jaw clenches, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.
“Does it bother you that this is special to you, too?” I whisper.
His eyes search mine. “It shouldn’t.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He pulls me close, so close that he nearly crushes me, and I smile against his shoulder as I wrap my arms around him.
He doesn’t have to answer me. He just told me the answer to my question without using his words.
Whether he likes it or not, this means something to him, too.
This is special.
* * *
Click….
I wake with a start. It’s dark and I’ve just heard the front door open. Spencer is sound asleep next to me.
I sit up in a rush.
Who’s that?
I throw my robe on and glance at the clock. It’s 6:20 a.m.
I pick up my phone and see ten missed calls from Wyatt.
Damn it, my phone was on silent.
I walk out into the hall and quickly close the bedroom door behind me before I head downstairs. Wyatt is already halfway up them.
“Is everything all right?” He frowns.
“Yes, sorry. I slept in.” I continue walking down the stairs to guide him away from my bedroom.
“You didn’t come down to the gym. When I couldn’t reach you on the phone, we were worried.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologise.
“Perhaps you should take my number, too,” Spencer offers sharply.
I look up to see Spencer with a towel wrapped around his waist, and he’s walking down the stairs towards us.
The blood drains from my face.
“What are you doing here?” Wyatt growls.
Spencer glares at him. “Visiting my girlfriend. What does it look like?”
11
Charlotte
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 be
hind. “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 law
yer,” 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.
