Mr Spencer

by Swan, T L

  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.

  12

  Charlotte

  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 shi
t.” 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?

  Edward

  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.”