Mr Spencer(77)

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.”