I don’t want to answer. I mean, what is there to say?
While I’ve been pining over here for him, he’s been out screwing around, imagining my face when he was with someone else.
I’m shocked and appalled, but if I’m being totally honest, a little relieved that he had to imagine me to climax. That’s God punishing him for being such an asshole.
And why does he have to be so damn honest all the time?
It’s infuriating.
Beth thinks I should speak to him, and that in his eyes, I have double standards because he thinks I slept with someone else, too. She thinks I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe I am.
But maybe I’m just not cut out for casual dating, and this was just the gentle reminder I needed. He had me naked in the bath touching myself, for Christ’s sake. Talk about being putty in his hands.
The phone stops vibrating, and I stare at the ceiling, a sad, dejected feeling sweeping through me. I feel like I’m back to square one with him—below square one, because now I know he’s having sex with other women.
Maybe I should have answered his call and had it out with him. Perhaps it would make me feel better?
I exhale heavily and pick up my phone to start scrolling through Instagram when the phone starts to vibrate in my hand again.
I stare at it for a moment.
Screw it. “Hi,” I answer.
“Are you fucking serious?” he snaps.
I stay silent, unsure what to say.
“Okay, firstly… don’t you dare hang up on me.”
I roll my eyes.
“Secondly, yes, I am well aware that telling you I imagined you during sex was probably the stupidest thing to ever come out of my mouth.”
“Who was she?”
He hesitates.
“I want to know who she was.”
“Her name is Sheridan, and she’s an old friend. She lives in America.”
I get a vision of a beautiful woman with my Spencer, and jealousy twists in my stomach.
“You know her well?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I don’t know if I want to know the answer to this question, but I ask anyway. “How long have you been sleeping with her?”
“Do we have to talk about this?” he asks.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you want me to listen to what you have to say.”
“Ten years.”
My eyes widen and my stomach drops.
“It’s never happened before,” he says softly.
“What hasn’t?” I frown.
“I’ve never thought of someone else when I was with her.”
I stay silent, waiting for him to go on.
“I wasn’t prepared for it.”
“Do you think of other women often when you’re having sex?” I ask, confused.
“God, no. I’ve never done it, I just told you. I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s constant, and it’s driving me fucking insane to be honest.”
I twist the quilt between my fingers. “So, Sheridan is your girlfriend who lives in another country?”
“No, she’s just a friend.”
“Who you have sex with?” I’m trying to understand the dynamics of their relationship.
“In the past, yes.”
“What about your future?”
“Charlotte, the only person on my mind at the moment is you. If I were with you and it bothered you, I wouldn’t be with anyone else.”
If it bothered me? What the hell?
“It would bother me, Spence, of course it would bother me. I don’t like to share.”
“Then you won’t.”
I get a lump in my throat, and I want to believe him.
Silence hangs between us.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m on a yacht, sailing around Ibiza.”
I smirk at the make-believe games he plays. “Yes.”
“And I’m working out a plan to come and kidnap this girl in London who I’m obsessed with.” His voice has dropped to his playful tone.
“What are you going to do with her once you have her?”
“What wouldn’t I do with her, if I had her.” He breathes out heavily.
I smile softly.
“I’m sorry I thought of you while I had sex with someone else,” he tells me. “It wasn’t fair.”
I frown, and for some stupid reason, my eyes fill with tears. No, it wasn’t.
“I won’t do it again, angel, I promise.”
I listen.
“Can I see you?” he asks.
“Erm.” I run through my schedule in my mind. “I have something on tomorrow and Saturday night,” I tell him.
“Sunday night?”
“We’ll see.” I sigh.
“Lottie.”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever felt like you know someone better than you actually do?”
I bite my bottom lip to stifle my smile. That’s exactly how I feel with him, and I don’t know where this attachment to him is coming from because it shouldn’t be there. I really don’t know him at all. After a pause, I reply, “Perhaps.”
“I’ll see you Sunday then?”
“Yes.” I find myself smiling like a fool.
“What am I going to do with myself ‘til then?”
“Why don’t you have a bath and spread your legs.” I smirk.
“Already done that. My dick is chaffed from jerking off to thoughts of you.”
My mouth falls open. “Spencer Jones, you are the crassest man I have ever met.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. And I’m not crass, I’m just honest.” I can tell he’s smiling.
“Goodbye, Spencer.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come over here and make up in person?”
“I’ll see you Sunday.” I smirk.
“That you will. I’m excited to see you.”
I don’t really want to say goodbye to him. Making up with him in person does seem like way more fun than this. We both stay silent and eventually I have to end the call.
“Goodbye, Spencer,” I eventually force out.
“Goodnight, angel. Dream of me.”
The line goes dead, and I smile goofily into the darkness.
I have no resistance to this man. None.
*
I walk into the ballroom with Alexander. It’s Saturday night, and we’re at a charity auction. I would rather be out with Beth, but I did promise Alexander I would come. Besides, it will keep my father and Edward appeased.
Alexander stops to talk to someone, and I look around, freezing on the spot.
Oh no.
Spencer is by the bar.
What the hell is he doing here?
His wavy hair is messed-up to perfection, and his square jaw and piercing blue eyes meet mine. Wearing a black dinner suit, he looks so handsome, and I feel myself melt a little.
He raises an eyebrow at me, and then just as suddenly as we connect, he snaps his eyes away from mine.
Spencer
“You never know what the future will bring.” Leoni smiles.
“I guess.” I sigh as I look around.
Charlotte—My Charlotte has just walked into the ballroom on someone else’s arm.
What?
Alexander York?
My skin prickles. You have got to be kidding me.
Him—my archnemesis. We’ve known each other for years and hated each other for just as long. We met at a party years ago. Alex did some trading for me on the stock market and they turned bad. Then I dated someone he wanted, and it’s gone downhill ever since. We’ve had harsh words on more occasions than I care to remember, and right now, I want to kill him with my bare hands.
“Yes, the universities are wonderful over there,” Leoni says.
I inhale sharply as I try to focus on what she is saying, although I’m quite sure she can see steam shooting out of my ears.
Was it him?
Did she sleep with Alexander fucking York?
My nostrils flare in fury and I tip my head back to skull from my beer. This woman will be the death of me. The two of them walk through the crowd, and Charlotte finds my gaze and falters, as if shocked.
She’s wearing a gold crystal-beaded dress, and her thick honey hair is set into large curls. She looks curvy, glamorous, and beautiful.
Perfect.
My cock instantly hardens with appreciation…and she’s fucking here with someone else.
I put my hand into the pocket of my black dinner suit and stare at her, my eyebrow rising involuntarily.
I’m livid and force myself to look away.
Leonie keeps banging on about the most boring thing I’ve ever heard and Charlotte stands still, her hands both clutching her gold purse nervously as Alexander stops to talk to someone. She can’t even look at me, while I can’t look away.
I’ve caught her out. This is why she won’t see me. She’s fucking him.