Mr Spencer: Chapter 25

“I beg your pardon.” I sit up immediately. “What did you just say?”

“A Sheridan Myer is here to see you.”

My blood runs cold. What the hell does that bitch want?

“Please tell her that I’m not accepting visitors.”

“Just a moment.” She puts her hand over the phone, and I hear her relay my message in the background.

“What? Give me the phone.” Sheridan says before I hear her voice directed at me. “Listen, princess, I’ve flown a long way to come and see you, so you get your arse down here right now.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Well, I’ve got plenty to say to you, and I’m not going home until I do.”

“What do you want?”

“Come downstairs, for Christ’s sake, and I’ll tell you.” She hangs up the phone before I can argue.

I slam the phone down in a fluster and stare at it for a few moments.

What the hell?

I run my hands through my hair and begin to pace as my nerves go into overdrive. What does she want? I can’t deal with her right now.

What if she’s been with Spencer this week and she’s here to brag about it?

I feel sick to my stomach.

The phone rings again and I stare at it before answering. “Hello?”

“Hello, it’s concierge again. Miss Sheridan wants to come up to your room.”

My eyes widen, and I swallow the lump in my throat. I guess that would be less of a spectacle. God knows I’ve had enough of those this last week.

“Miss Preston, is that?”

“No. I’ll come down now.”

I don’t want that witch in my damn room. I despise her.

Another one of his hareem.

I get dressed into a white linen shirt and navy shorts. I quickly brush my teeth and put my hair back into a ponytail.

I look so juvenile compared to her glamorous style, but I clearly wasn’t thinking straight when I packed. I brought the most ridiculous clothes with me. Somehow, all of my winter clothes made it into the suitcase and nothing else. I even had to buy a swimming costume when I arrived. I guess that happens when you pack at two in the morning, while crying hysterically like a madwoman and suffering from a frozen heart.

With one last inhale and look at myself, I make my way out into the corridor. Anthony is waiting for me, forever my trusty, loyal companion who has never disappointed me. Of course, when William turned up last night, so did my security team.

“I’m going down to meet someone in the foyer,” I say as I walk past him.

“Who?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Who are you meeting?”

“A woman.” And before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “She’s one of Spencer’s old girlfriends. God knows what she’s doing here.”

His face falls. “Oh… I…” He shakes his head. “I strongly advise against it, Charlotte.”

“I’m only talking to her for five minutes.” I sigh. “If it looks like it isn’t going well, come and get me.”

“Is Spencer with her?”

My eyes widen. I hadn’t thought of that. But he must have told her where I was.

Damn it, is this an ambush?

Surely he couldn’t be so stupid.

Before I can second-guess my decision to talk to her, we jump in the lift and travel downstairs. The elevator doors eventually open and Sheridan comes into view with her back to me and Anthony. She’s wearing black Capri pants and a black fitted top.

Still a power outfit, and worse than that, still fucking amazing.

She turns to face me, and her eyes find mine. Unable to help it, she tilts her chin in disapproval.

She holds out her hand to me. “My name is Sheridan.”

“I know who you are.” I look at her blankly and walk past her, through the hotel, towards the bar. I hear her huffing behind me.

That was so rude of me not to shake her hand, but she can go to Hell. I hate this woman with a passion.

We get to the terrace and she gestures to a table. “Shall we sit here?”

“That depends. Are you going to drop to your knees and try and go down on me to get your own way?”

Her eyes hold mine. “Well, well.” She smirks, and I know I’ve surprised her. “You don’t have the right equipment for me to want my own way with you.” She pulls the chair out and takes a seat.

“What do you want?” I snap as I sit down.

She smiles and puts her hand up for the waitress, who immediately comes over. “I’ll have a Martini on the rocks.” She turns her attention to me. “What do you want?”

“Same. Whatever.” I’m too angry to string two words together.

“What type of Martini would you like, Miss?” The waiter asks me.

“I’ll have mine perfect and she’ll have hers dirty.”

Sheridan’s face falls for just a second before she throws her head back and laughs sharply.

“Oh, that’s a good one. And so fitting. I do actually prefer a dirty Martini.”

I roll my eyes, unimpressed. “Of course, you do.”

The waiter leaves us in peace, and I glare at her. Her long dark hair is down, and she has the perfect bone structure. She really is beautiful. “What do you want?” I ask.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“Because someone that I love is hurting.”

“I bet you’ve been there to mop up his tears.”

She smirks and raises a brow. “I have, actually.”

Our eyes are locked and suddenly we are alone in the world, the sky is suddenly red with my rage, and she is my only target. “Of course, you wouldn’t miss the chance to race in like a knight in shining armour and save the day.”

A cold smile crosses her lips. “I’m more like Lady Godiva.”

Bitch.

Our drinks arrive, and I take a bit sip of mine. Ugh, I hate these things. I hate her, too, so I guess the drink is fitting.

“So, you flew all the way out here to tell me that you slept with Spencer this week?” I ask.

“No.” She reaches into her pocket. “I flew all the way here to give you this.” She holds out her hand and holds up a memory stick.

I frown as I stare at it. “What is it?”

“Well, while you’ve been over here playing the pathetic damsel in distress, and Spencer has been at his sickening pity party for one, someone around here has actually been using their fucking brain.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Spencer has a PA who needs to be fired, and I was quite sure she would try and sabotage him at some point. I wanted to catch her out and protect him.”

I stare at her.

“I put security cameras in his office.”

“What in the hell does this have to do with me?”

“Did you know that Penelope came to him the day before you saw her with William at dinner. Did you know that she wanted him to meet her for sex that night?”

“What?”

“Did you know that they argued, and he kicked ‘Stephanie’ out of his office.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” She sits forward. “Because you’re a selfish little bitch who won’t even listen to what he has to say. You’re so caught up in your own fucking agenda that you can’t see the forest for the trees.”

“Go to Hell. You don’t even know me.”

“I’ll tell you what I do know,” she whispers angrily. “I’ve watched hours and hours of footage from Spencer’s office this week, trying to piece together anything that will prove his innocence.”

My face falls.

“That’s right, sweetie.” She sneers. “I’ve heard his conversations with you. I’ve seen him defend your honour to your brother. I watched your arguments over me, and Hell, worst of all, I’ve watched him fuck you on his desk.”

My eyes hold hers.

“And I would give anything to have him look at me the way he looks at you. To hear those three words I’ve so desperately wanted to hear for ten goddamn years.”

My eyes fill with tears.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot, Charlotte. If you leave him, it will be the biggest regret of your life.”

I blink quickly, unsure what to say.

“The man I’m in love with is in Santorini as we speak, waiting for you.”

I drop my chin to my chest as sadness overwhelms me. “Did you sleep with him?”

“Time to go,” a voice snaps.

We both look up to see Anthony looming over us like a gorilla.

“Who the hell are you?” Sheridan sneers.

“I’m her bodyguard, and I don’t appreciate you upsetting her.”

“Oh, just fuck off, you idiot.” She sighs with an eye roll. “We’re in the middle of something here.”

He looks at me and I nod. “Please go.” He walks off to the other side of the pool.

Our eyes meet again, and hers are cold, while mine are full of tears.

“You love him?” she whispers.

I nod. “Yes.”

“If you knew Spencer Jones at all, then you’d know damn well he wouldn’t have slept with me this week. He’s in love with you. He’s a proud man, and if you don’t go to him soon, you won’t ever get the chance again. You’ve hurt him deeply, Charlotte. Truth is, you may already be too late.”

“I don’t know how to get past this. Every time I picture him, I see her.”

She exhales heavily. “I can’t help you with that one. If Spencer loved me, nothing else on this Earth would matter.” We stare at each other. “Are you really going to let Penelope take him from you, for something that happened four years ago when he had no idea who she was or that she was even married?”

I stare at her as a clusterfuck of emotions run through me.

“Fuck the tabloids. Fuck your family. Take what’s yours and hold onto it with two hands.”

“Is this your motivational speech?”

“This is your ‘wake up to your fucking self and get to Santorini’ speech.” She drains her glass and stands, and without another word, Sheridan walks off into the distance.

She flicks her hair over her shoulder, and I watch her sexy little figure sashay out through the reception area.

I glance down at the memory stick in my hand.

What now?

Spencer

The sea breeze floats over my skin as I watch the reflection of the moon dance across the water. I’m on the balcony, high up above the ocean with the most beautiful view at my fingertips. The fire pit is lit and I stare back into it.

I can hear the celebrations in the distance. There’s muffled music and coloured lights sporadically strung from one property to another on the hill above me. They all twinkle in the distance. Every so often, a crowd cheers as they celebrate together.

Their giggles hang in the air with an eerie echo.

It’s New Year’s Eve. It’s December thirty-first. It’s my birthday.

I’m in Santorini, and I’m very much alone.

She didn’t come.

And here I am, scrolling through photos of Charlotte on my phone, remembering the good times.

It’s Heaven and Hell all rolled into one.

Image after image, I see her smiling beautiful face staring back at me.

It’s almost like I can feel her arms around me. I remember back to when we first met and the way my heart began to beat faster whenever she looked at me. The way my stomach would flutter at her smile…

Her kiss… her perfect kiss.

I exhale heavily and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’ve had some bad birthdays in my life but this one takes the biscuit.

I haven’t left the villa all day, convinced if I did that she would come while I was out. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m destined to have the people I care about walk away from my life.

My mind goes back to a time when I would be feeling just like this—alone in my bedroom, waiting for him to call me on my birthday. Waiting for him to extend an olive branch, and desperate for the smallest sign that he did, in fact, love me like my friends’ fathers loved them.

I drag my hand down my face. This is fucked.

And then the doorbell of the villa rings out.

The doorbell? What?

She’s here.

I stand and run to the front door, opening it in a rush. But it’s Wyatt who stands before me, not Charlotte.

“Hi.” I look past him. “Where is she?”

Sympathy flares in his eyes. “Charlotte asked me to bring you this.” He holds out a sealed cream envelope. I read my name written on the front in her fancy handwriting.

My eyes search his. “Where is she?” I whisper, pushing it past the lump in my throat.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, man, she isn’t here. She wanted me to hand deliver you this.”

I don’t remember closing the door, getting back to my place by the fire, or opening the letter.

I hold it in shaky hands.

I frown and close it back up. I can’t do it. I can’t read this fucking letter. I don’t want this fucking letter.

I want her.

Somehow, I force myself to read on.

“No.” My heart begins to race and I skim ahead on the letter. “No, Charlotte.” My eyes fill with tears. “Don’t you fucking do this to me,” I whisper angrily. “Don’t you dare fucking do this to me.”

I screw up the letter and stare at the flames of the fire.

Dream catch me when I fall.

For some sick fucked up reason I need to hear it. I need to hear our song one more time. I flick through Spotify and hit play.

I sit and stare at the fire as the tantric beat of the song plays all around me, and I listen on as the lyrics tear open the last pieces of my heart.

She doesn’t love me enough.

I throw her letter into the flames and watch it slowly burn as the melody comes to an end.

I dig in my pocket and take out the engagement ring that I bought her. All I can do is stare at it.

I had so much hope and so many dreams for us when I picked it.

Cheers erupt in the distance, and I look up to see the fireworks going off over the water.

It’s midnight—the end of one year, the beginning of another. A celebration for most.

The end of the world for me.

I walk to the balcony’s edge, and I stare at the diamond ring through tears. The lump in my throat is painful.

Anger surges through me, and I throw the ring as hard as I can over the cliff.

I watch it bounce from the rocks and disappear into the night. Emotion overtakes me, and I sob, my breath quivering with every breath I suck in.

“Happy New Year. Happy fucking New Year.”