Spencer runs his finger down my face. I feel like I want to blurt it all out and tell him that, yeah, maybe I think I love him.
But I won’t because it’s too soon.
We’ve been together for all of ten days. Maybe I’m misjudging our closeness for love. I don’t even know what the protocol for this is. When is it okay to acknowledge how you feel? When is it okay to say it out loud?
His big blue eyes hold mine. He lingers, waiting, and I have to wonder… does he feel it, too?
Whatever it is.
“Spence…” I whisper.
“Yeah.” He kisses me softly.
My stomach twists as I try to hold in the words. “I’m going to miss you today,” I breathe out.
He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Good.” He kisses me deeply. “You can show me how much when I see you tonight.”
His tongue slides through my lips, and he gently tugs at my bottom lip with his teeth. We kiss again, only this time he’s using the same force he uses when we fuck.
There’s no mistaking it, Spencer’s fucking-kiss is a hell of a lot different to his relaxed-kiss. It has an edge that’s as sharp as a knife. Not that I’m complaining, of course.
He lies me back over the counter, pulls my robe to the side, and slides two thick fingers into my sex. His eyes drop as he watches my body take him in.
My mouth falls open.
He gives a subtle shake of his head. “You’ll be the fucking death of me, woman. I can’t get enough of this sexy body of yours.”
I giggle quietly.
He removes his fingers and puts them in his mouth. When he sucks them, his eyes darken and he hums in appreciation.
“I’m going to be late, Prescott.”
I nod. “Go…”
With one last kiss, he turns and picks up his briefcase. “See you tonight.” He flashes me a sexy wink. “Behave yourself today.”
I smile from my position on the kitchen bench. “Bye.”
The front door clicks closed.
I lie for a moment in a state of awe. How he can get me from zero to gagging for it in five seconds flat is beyond me.
Finally, I drag myself upstairs and make my way to the wardrobe.
I look around and smile. It’s filled with Spencer’s suits and clothes. Four shirts on hangers and three suits hang there like they own the space. There’s also two pairs of dress shoes, a watch, his deodorant, aftershave, a laptop, and his earphones. He’s taking over this damn wardrobe.
He’s taking over me.
All of his things are mixed in with mine, so I begin to hang his on the other side, organising him his own space. I pick up a coat hanger with a pair of suit pants on it, and the pants slide off the hanger. I catch them mid-air and feel something in the pocket.
I reach inside and pull out a hotel key. I stare at it in my hand.
The Corinthia.
Why would he have a hotel key to The Corinthia? That’s weird.
I move around a few things and put them in their place, but my mind is already in overdrive.
Who does he know that stays in London from out of town?
Sheridan.
Don’t be stupid.
I put the key back into his suit pants, and I hang them back up in disgust.
Think about it, Charlotte, I tell myself.
He has everything dry cleaned. He’s almost OCD when it comes to his suits, so that’s not an old key.
Why would he have a key to her room?
I begin to pace in the bedroom, back and forth, back and forth.
He’s been seeing her for ten years. She comes to London for business often. Has she been here this week? If the suit pants are here, it means he’s worn them this week while we’ve been together.
Has he met with her?
I pace for another twenty minutes with my mind in overdrive. This is going to send me insane.
It’s an old key. It has to be an old key.
There’s only one way to find out.
Stop it!
More pacing.
“Why does he have that key?” I ask the universe, hoping to get a reasonable response.
Damn this, I need to know.
I get dressed in record time and take the key from his pants again. I grab my handbag and I run to the foyer, hitting the elevator button as quickly as I can. If I go now, I can be back before the boys come to get me for work.
*
Fifteen minutes later, the taxi I’m in pulls up outside The Corinthia, and I tentatively step out.
What are you doing here, you fool?
Trust him!
I walk in casually, and I make my way to the elevator. I get in and scan the key, watching as it lights up.
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.