Mr Spencer(143)

“Maybe we should have listened when we had the chance.”

Once again, we fall silent.

“Well, Charlotte,” he says with renewed purpose. “There is only one thing to do in this situation.”

“Please.” I smirk. “Tell me what that is, because I have no idea.”

“Drink all the alcohol on the island.”

He raises his glass and I smile as I lift mine to meet his. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Bottoms up.”





*



The afternoon sun shines through my sheer drapes. I’m in a sleepy daze.

William wasn’t joking, and he and I did practically drink all of the alcohol on the island last night.

We’ve taken it very easy today. There’s been swimming, eating, and now an afternoon nap.

I’m past being upset. Now I’m angry.

My hotel phone rings and I frown.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Hello, Miss Preston?” the concierge asks.

“Yes.”

“You have a visitor here in reception.”

“Who is it?”

“She says her name is Sheridan Myer.”





25





Charlotte


“I beg your pardon.” I sit up immediately. “What did you just say?”

“A Sheridan Myer is here to see you.”

My blood runs cold. What the hell does that bitch want?

“Please tell her that I’m not accepting visitors.”

“Just a moment.” She puts her hand over the phone, and I hear her relay my message in the background.

“What? Give me the phone.” Sheridan says before I hear her voice directed at me. “Listen, princess, I’ve flown a long way to come and see you, so you get your arse down here right now.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Well, I’ve got plenty to say to you, and I’m not going home until I do.”

“What do you want?”

“Come downstairs, for Christ’s sake, and I’ll tell you.” She hangs up the phone before I can argue.

I slam the phone down in a fluster and stare at it for a few moments.

What the hell?

I run my hands through my hair and begin to pace as my nerves go into overdrive. What does she want? I can’t deal with her right now.

What if she’s been with Spencer this week and she’s here to brag about it?

I feel sick to my stomach.

The phone rings again and I stare at it before answering. “Hello?”

“Hello, it’s concierge again. Miss Sheridan wants to come up to your room.” My eyes widen, and I swallow the lump in my throat. I guess that would be less of a spectacle. God knows I’ve had enough of those this last week.

“Miss Preston, is that?”

“No. I’ll come down now.”

I don’t want that witch in my damn room. I despise her.

Another one of his hareem.

I get dressed into a white linen shirt and navy shorts. I quickly brush my teeth and put my hair back into a ponytail.

I look so juvenile compared to her glamorous style, but I clearly wasn’t thinking straight when I packed. I brought the most ridiculous clothes with me. Somehow, all of my winter clothes made it into the suitcase and nothing else. I even had to buy a swimming costume when I arrived. I guess that happens when you pack at two in the morning, while crying hysterically like a madwoman and suffering from a frozen heart.

With one last inhale and look at myself, I make my way out into the corridor. Anthony is waiting for me, forever my trusty, loyal companion who has never disappointed me. Of course, when William turned up last night, so did my security team.

“I’m going down to meet someone in the foyer,” I say as I walk past him.

“Who?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Who are you meeting?”

“A woman.” And before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “She’s one of Spencer’s old girlfriends. God knows what she’s doing here.”

His face falls. “Oh… I…” He shakes his head. “I strongly advise against it, Charlotte.”

“I’m only talking to her for five minutes.” I sigh. “If it looks like it isn’t going well, come and get me.”

“Is Spencer with her?”

My eyes widen. I hadn’t thought of that. But he must have told her where I was.

Damn it, is this an ambush?

Surely he couldn’t be so stupid.

Before I can second-guess my decision to talk to her, we jump in the lift and travel downstairs. The elevator doors eventually open and Sheridan comes into view with her back to me and Anthony. She’s wearing black Capri pants and a black fitted top.

Still a power outfit, and worse than that, still fucking amazing.

She turns to face me, and her eyes find mine. Unable to help it, she tilts her chin in disapproval.

She holds out her hand to me. “My name is Sheridan.”

“I know who you are.” I look at her blankly and walk past her, through the hotel, towards the bar. I hear her huffing behind me.

That was so rude of me not to shake her hand, but she can go to Hell. I hate this woman with a passion.