Mr Spencer(82)

“And it turns out you had a good reason to be scared of that… because I have,” she whispers.

I drop my head as emotion takes over, our foreheads coming together.

This feels so… real.

She puts her finger under my chin and brings my face up to meet hers. “I know this is crazy and we don’t even know each other properly yet, but I was devastated last night when I thought you were with Sheridan.”

I shake my head and look up at her. “How does this happen in ten days, angel? I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

She smiles. “You always hear people say that when you know, you know, right?”

Oh God…this beautiful woman.

“I know,” I whisper against her lips.

“I know, too. I’ve known all along.” Her lips take mine and our kiss is deep and passionate. It’s everything I’ve never had. Suddenly, I’m desperate to be alone with her—to show her what she means to me.

“Let’s go home,” I murmur into her hair.

“To your house?”

I stare at the perfect angel in front of me, and a thought of pure horror runs through my mind.

She can’t stay in my bed.

I need a new mattress before we stay at my house. I don’t want her sleeping where I’ve been with another woman.

I want a new start… with her.

“Let’s go to your house. It’s easier for the boys,” I lie. “We’ll stay at mine tomorrow night when we’ve made arrangements for them.”

“Okay.”

I stand and take her in my arms, holding her tight.

There’s no other man.

Only me!

This feeling, this overwhelming feeling I get from her is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I can’t get close enough.

It’s comforting, and yet it terrifies the hell out of me. She’s not just anyone, and I know for certain that her family are not going to accept me. I grip her tighter as the reality that I may lose her sets in.

“Let’s go home, baby,” she whispers against my shoulder.

I kiss her big, soft lips. “Let’s go.”

I pack up my desk and we walk out through the reception area hand in hand.

“I’m leaving for the day,” I tell Rosalie, my PA.

“Okay, Mr Jones.” She smiles as she looks us both up and down.

“Goodbye.” Charlotte smiles to her. “Lovely to meet you.”

“You, too!” Rosalie calls back.

We walk through to the foyer to find Anthony and Wyatt waiting patiently.

“Hi, guys,” I say to them both.

“Hey,” they both reply.

The four of us get into the elevator and I push the button.

I want to know why Charlotte is guarded. There has to be something more sinister going on than she is led to believe, and I intend to find out exactly what that something is.

“My car is out on the street today. Where are you parked?” I ask them. I don’t want Charlotte to be without them with her for a moment.

“Around the block,” Anthony answers.

“We’ll just go down and wait in my car until you come around, and then we’ll pull out in front of you, okay?” I ask.

“Okay, good,” Wyatt replies.

We walk out of the building hand in hand, across the quadrangle area.

“Charlotte?” a man calls out. “Charlotte Prescott...”

We both turn and see a photographer smiling as soon as he realises it’s her. Before we can do anything he begins to take photos. The camera clicks away picture after picture.

Charlotte’s step falters.

“Keep walking!” Wyatt snaps.

Charlotte puts her head down, and I drag her by the hand as Wyatt approaches the photographer.

“Get the fuck off!” the photographer cries out when Wyatt tries to take the camera from him. They get into a struggle, leaving Charlotte and me to head to the car as quickly as we possibly can.

“Meet us at home!” Anthony yells, turning and running back to help Wyatt confiscate the camera.

I open the car door and Charlotte slides in. I run around to my side and, once secured in, we take off quickly.

I look out through the rearview mirror to see the two guards in a full-on scuffle with two photographers now.

“Oh my God,” Charlotte whispers, dropping her head into her hands.

I grip the steering wheel with white knuckle force, trying to concentrate on the road ahead.

Looks like the war is about to begin.





13





Spencer


We drive in silence, but my eyes keep drifting back to the road behind us to make sure we aren’t being followed. Charlotte sits in the passenger seat, staring through the windscreen.

I pick up her hand and kiss her fingertips. “We have four or five days before those pictures go live and that’s if we’re lucky.”

She glances over to me. “How do you know that?”

I clench my jaw. “I just know. If they want top dollar, then they’ll have to approach several tabloids to sell the images.”

She pulls her hand from my grip and gives a subtle shake of her head, somewhat annoyed that I’ve been through this before.