Vain (The Seven Deadly, #1)(12)

“I can’t lie to you. You’re goddamned beautiful, Sophie, and I’m so turned on right now I can’t even think straight, but I won’t have you, not like this. I thought you wanted this.”

“I did,” I began truthfully but he shushed me.

“No need, Sophie. Just lay here with me while I try to calm the hell down.”

“Okay,” I sniffed.

It was then I realized that Spencer was a good friend, a real friend, probably the only one I really had.



We both fell asleep and I woke to Spencer snoring softly. I peered down at myself and realized I was practically naked. Shame heated up my face and body and I slid out from under his hold to retrieve my clothing from the main living area. The room was dark as the sun had set not long before and I began gathering my skirt and blouse from the blonde wood flooring.

I’d just bent to retrieve my purse when I heard the front door swing open. I froze in absolute fear as Spencer’s father stood in the space just outside the threshold. I held the loose clothing against my body.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he asked, strolling in at a snail’s pace. He removed his keys from the lock and threw them on a nearby table. He looked more closely at me and realization struck him. “Ah, the Price girl.”

“I’m sorry,” I began, but he cut me off.

“No need to be sorry,” he said, oozing creepiness. “I’m not.” He perused my body with obvious appreciation and I turned to bolt back up the stairs to Spencer’s room.

“Wait,” his father called out, grabbing my elbow. “If he’s finished, I’d like to have a turn.”

“Excuse me?”

“It looks like you’re finishing up, aren’t you?” When I couldn't answer him he continued, “My wife flew ahead of me. I had an emergency at work and had to fly back from Atlanta. I told her I’d meet up with her later. She’s not here.”

“What the hell does that have to do with me?” I asked, bewildered.

“I can give you things my boy can’t,” he slimily offered with what I’m sure he thought was a charming smile. All I could see were serpent’s teeth.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m assuming Spencer’s asleep because you’ve worn him out.” I balked at his presumption. “I, uh, know of the trouble you’ve recently gotten yourself into.” Uh-oh.

“What exactly are you saying?”

He ran a finger down my upper arm and I visibly convulsed at his touch. His eyes became hard. “I’m saying if you want me to keep this indiscretion quiet to your father, you’d best accommodate me.”

I shook my head and he ripped the clothing from my hands before gripping my shoulders. I trembled, having no idea what I was going to do. I knew I could scream for Spencer, but if he walked in, he’d just assume I had volunteered. After all, I had a reputation.

“Let go of her!” I heard behind me.

Spencer’s father stiffened at the sight of his son and released my arms.

“Spencer.”

“Oh spare me.”

He descended the remaining stairs unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it over my shoulders. “You won’t say a f*cking word to her father, or I’ll tell mother what I just witnessed.” Spencer gathered up my skirt and top and he led me back to his room, closing the door behind us.

He ran the palm of his hand over his mouth. “Jesus, Soph, I’m so f*cking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, but my trembling body said otherwise. “I’m just glad you showed up when you did. I’m the one who’s sorry. I-I’m just no good for anyone, am I?” I joked.

Spencer narrowed his eyes at me. “You really feel that way, don’t you?” he asked me.

“Hmm?”

“You really, truly believe that.”

I offered a hesitant smile and tried to shake my head no, to play it off, but he ignored me.

“Sophie Price, you are a mess. Come on, get dressed.”

“Where are we going?”

“I believe we’ve earned a stay at the W, love. My treat.”





CHAPTER FOUR



Sunday night, while Spencer and I were at Lucques for dinner, I received a call from Pembrook. This was not unusual if I was gone for days at a time as he would ring me to confirm I was still breathing so I denied the call, planning on calling back when dinner was over.

“So Brown, eh?” I asked Spencer.

“Yup,” he said, perusing his menu but briefly looking up to make a silly face. “So Yale, eh?” he teased.

I sighed in reply.

“How do you suppose we’ll withstand the weather?”

“I plan on racking up thousands of frequent flyer miles. I don’t want to leave, to be honest.”

“Damn, Spencer, that breaks my heart a little.”

“I know, but Brown is my family’s institution and,” he dropped an octave, “no son of my father’s will attend anywhere else.”

“Will you get supremely pissed if I tell you how much I can’t stand your father and that if it were me, I’d defy him just to screw him, no pun intended?”

Spencer’s facial expression hardened and I regretted insulting his father. That is, until he said, “No one can stand my father, including my father. He’s a terrible person and I hate him.”