Mr Spencer(89)

Fuck, I’m a selfish prick.

“Tomorrow night,” I whisper. “We’ll meet tomorrow night.” Right now, I just need her out of here. I’ll deal with her tomorrow.

She smiles, mollified for the moment. “Okay.” She leans in and kisses me softly on the lips, rubbing her fingers through my stubble. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

Fuck, why is nothing fucking easy? “Sure. Now I have to see my next appointment. Clean yourself up, you look like a mess.”

“Then stop upsetting me.” She huffs as she walks into the bathroom.

I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. Jesus fucking Christ, how do I get myself into this shit? I exhale heavily as she washes her face and redoes her makeup.

“Will you hurry?” I snap.

“Stop it,” she scolds me. “I’ll be ready to leave when I’m ready to leave and not a minute before.”

She reappears with her power suit firmly back in place, and I smile at the sight of her. “That’s better.”

She smiles bashfully. “What have you done to me, Spencer Jones?”

Sadness fills me. I do love Shez, just not in the way I love Charlotte. I don’t know how to make this right for her.

Ten years is a long time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night?” She smiles hopefully.

I nod. “You will, speak tomorrow.”

She kisses me softly on the lips, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close. There is a familiarity in her touch that comforts me. My eyes close with sadness because I know that this is our last embrace. As if sensing it, too, she squeezes me tight and we stay in each other’s arms for an extended moment. I pull back and cup her face in my hand, rubbing my thumb over her bottom lip.

“I do care for you, you know that, right?” I whisper.

Her eyes fill with tears anew. “But not love?”

“Baby, don’t…” I sigh.

She breaks from my arms and stares at the floor for a moment while she pulls herself together. I see her transform back to the power woman the world knows. She picks up her bag and heads for the door.

“Speak tomorrow,” I say.

Without another word, she leaves, and the door clicks shut behind her. I know I don’t have to worry about her saying anything to anyone or looking upset out there in reception. She would rather die than show any weakness. I hate that after ten years she just opened up to me and I kicked her out.

Such an asshole.

I press my eyeballs with my fingers and pace back and forth for a moment, trying to calm myself down.

Fuck, Edward is here and Sheridan loves me.

This is one fucked up day.

I go to the bathroom, wash my hands and face, and take a seat back at my desk as I prepare myself. Once ready, I press the intercom. “Send my next client in, please.”

The door opens and a man in a navy suit comes into view. He’s tall, dark, and good looking. Not what I was expecting at all. I thought he would be fair like Charlotte. Anyway, whatever.

I stand and hold my hand out. “Hello, I’m Spencer Jones.”

He shakes my hand. His grip is strong as he holds direct eye contact.

“Mr Jones,” he says flatly with a forced smile. “I’m Edward Prescott.”

I gesture to my desk. “Please, take a seat.”

He sits and I fall into my chair at the same time. I’m not exactly sure why he’s here. I asked the guards not to tell him yet. Have the images of our kiss been released already? No… because for him to get here so quickly, he would have had to leave Vegas or wherever he was yesterday. The flight is fourteen hours. I’m just going to keep quiet until I know what he’s doing.

“How can I help you?” I ask calmly.

“Do you know who I am?”

My eyes hold his. “Should I?”

He raises an eyebrow, sits back in his chair, and crosses his legs. He has a distinct air about him, although I can’t quite put my finger on exactly what that is.

Is he arrogant or entitled? Or perhaps just misunderstood.

“I understand you met my sister recently,” he says.

“And your sister is…?” I ask as I play along.

“Charlotte Prescott.”

I smile. “That I did.”

Our eyes are locked.

“Where did you meet?” he asks sharply.

“I’m sorry, why are you asking me questions about Charlotte?” I interrupt.

He smirks. “Let’s stop fucking around and get straight to the point, shall we? I have reason to believe that you are sniffing around my sister.”

I chuckle. “I’m not sure what kind of dog you’re used to, but I can assure you I don’t sniff around.”

“That’s not what my friend Alexander York told me. You were kissing her hand and didn’t take your eyes off her all night long at a recent charity ball.”

Ah, he’s here because Alex told him about us. What else does he know?

“I wouldn’t be throwing the name Alexander York around and connecting him as a friend, if I were you?”

He glares at me.

“I think you and I both know what his character is like,” I add. “A reference of any sort from him doesn’t mean much.”

He raises an eyebrow in a silent dare. “No, why don’t you tell me?”