Chapter Eight #2
But it didn’t last. September came, and with it, his annual trip with Carlo.
He returned, twisted up inside again, spiraling in guilt and desire.
I tried to help him understand what he was chasing, not just pleasure, but a specific level of euphoria.
The kind he’d only ever found in something raw, forbidden, and real.
So, I suggested he go back to the clubs. I understood it wasn’t a long-term fix—only Carlo could reach that part of him—but I hoped a new partner, a fresh experience, might help re-center him.
Spencer agreed, and as we had previously, we planned it together.
He went; he came home; he told me every detail. And for a while, the cycle resumed—he slept with other women, then came home to me. We pretended it was working.
But it wasn’t. I could see it in his eyes. Whatever satisfaction he’d once found was slipping away. Progressively, he went out less.
Until recently.
Now he’s gone more than ever. And when he comes home, he smells of that damn perfume.
He’s still sweet when he’s with me. Tells me I’m beautiful. That he loves me. That I still make him hard. But I know him too well. He’s hiding something.
I’ve resisted calling Carlo for weeks. It’s not fair to ask him to fix this again. But I’m not sure what else to do.
I have two choices: bring Spencer back . . . or accept that our marriage is over.
I’ve never been good at losing. But I’ve made a promise to myself; if things haven’t changed by Christmas, Lily and I will go.
This life isn’t good for any of us. We all deserve more.
Before I quit, I’m determined to try everything I can to repair our relationship.
A few weeks ago, I decided I needed to devise an action plan.
Step one was learning about his daily movements. The most logical person to help me with that was his assistant, Maggie.
Maggie and I have always gelled. Since she started working for Spencer a few years ago, we’ve had a tradition of meeting for lunch two or three times a year. She loves to see Lily and me.
Maggie’s become like a third grandma, and there’s no question she’s the most loving of the three.
Involving Maggie was ethically wrong, so I had to manage the situation carefully. The last thing I wanted was to put her in a difficult position by asking her to betray Spencer’s confidence.
There aren’t many people who get close to my husband, but when they do, he trusts implicitly, and Maggie is firmly inside his inner circle.
I’m not proud of the way I’ve used her position to my advantage, but she’s not a stupid woman. I suspect the sudden increase in our lunch dates wouldn’t have escaped her notice.
During our conversations, Maggie gave me the distinct impression that she was as worried about Spencer’s state of mind as I am.
All of Spencer’s calendars are electronic. He records everything in his diary—he’s a busy man and has never had a memory for dates.
My first challenge was securing access to the office network.
With Maggie’s help, that was simple. I told her I wanted to print invitations for Lily’s birthday party on their fancy printer.
Ridiculous really, I could easily do what I’d done in previous years and go to the print shop, but she seemed pleased with my frugality.
Once Maggie gave me the login codes to the network so that I could access the printer remotely, I assumed I’d cracked the puzzle. I was buzzing as I traveled home on the train that day.
It only made the crushing disappointment even harder to bear that evening when I discovered that although I had access to Spencer’s calendar, there were other folders that were protected by a higher level of security.
Finding someone to hack into the system was going too far. Besides which, even if I did somehow crack Spencer’s password, he might get a notification that someone other than him had logged into his account, and that would be a disaster.
If he gets wind of the fact that I’m digging around in his life, it’ll infuriate him. Trust is a big thing to Spencer, which is how I know what he’s doing is killing him.
I racked my brain for a solution to accessing these codes. The only one I could come up with was accessing Maggie’s computer during the day, when she was in the office. But the logistics of such a plan seemed implausible. Plus, there was no guarantee she had access anyway.
The whole concept seemed so cloak and dagger, that I assumed I’d failed before I’d begun.
For the last few days, I’ve been driving myself insane. I’m so close to solving this puzzle, and yet the answer is still out of my reach.
Yesterday, I spent hours reading through the files I could access on the server. Which only infuriated me further, not to have the last link in the chain.
Last night, Spencer came home soon after dinner. I’d barely finished clearing up the kitchen from Lily and my meal.
It was a welcome surprise to see him so early until he announced the reason—a business trip to Dubai. His flight leaves tomorrow afternoon.
Before his flight, he agreed with Maggie that he’d work from home.
So, after dropping Lily at school, instead of going to the gym as I usually would, I rushed home, hoping to spend some time with Spencer.
Upon entering the kitchen, I notice Spencer’s laptop on the counter.
Knowing the answers I sought were so tantalizingly close was creating mental anguish. But I couldn’t fathom a way to convince him to give me access.
A brief investigation told me Spencer was working out in our home gym in the basement. I sat down at the kitchen table with my laptop and processed an order for some toy dolls for our daughter’s birthday gift.
My eyes kept flitting to Spencer’s laptop, as if by staring at it, somehow a solution would come.
When our cat, Peanut, jumped up on the table. I immediately told him off, batting him down, but Peanut’s bad manners gave me an idea.
Without too much thought, I recklessly tapped the top of my water glass over, knocking the contents onto my keyboard, and totally ruining my almost brand-new device.
Trashing it felt wrong, but I reassured myself that sometimes extreme measures are needed.
I left the water to sit for a few moments, ensuring that it was destroyed, while balancing my time constraints against Spencer’s schedule.
After a couple of minutes, I couldn’t wait any longer. I dashed downstairs to find Spencer in the gym.
Acting has never been one of my talents, but summoning my inner drama queen, I burst in, almost in tears.
“Whoa! What’s wrong?” he asks, catching my biceps as I run toward him.
He’s wearing slim-fitting shorts and no top. Having just climbed off the treadmill, his smooth tanned skin glistens with sweat.
Unable to resist, my eyes descend over his gorgeous fit body. Even sweaty from his workout, he’s more handsome than any other man I’ve seen.
“Peanut just jumped up on the table and knocked my glass of water over onto my laptop,” I wail, trying to sound equal parts furious and upset.
He rolls his eyes. “Can I use yours for ten minutes? I was right in the middle of ordering everything for Lily’s party.”
“Ugh. Can’t you do it on your phone or iPad?”
“Please Spence. It’s hard to see on my phone, and I’m not sure where my iPad is. It won’t take me long, I promise.”
To help distract him, I allow my gaze to travel down his body again, making it clear I’m checking him out.
“You need to get dressed before you start work anyway. I’ll finish before you’re ready,” I purr, licking my lips.
“You need my face to gain access,” he explains.
Jesus, what’s he hiding in there?
“Oh.”
I drop my shoulders in defeat.
“Why is everything to do with this party so fucking difficult?” I huff. “Next year, I’m employing a planner.”
He tilts his head, studying me, his expression is a clear indicator that I’ve already won this minor battle. The knowledge makes it hard to keep a straight face.
“Alright, come on, I’ll open it for you, but I need it back in twenty minutes. I’ve got a call at ten o’clock.”
“Thank you, darling,” I exclaim, smacking my hands together in an excitable girly way, aware it will amuse him. “I’d kiss you if you weren’t so sweaty.”
Like I’d flipped a switch; he crowds me playfully, forcing me to step back from him to avoid his moist skin.
He doesn’t stop advancing until I’m caged against my ballet barre.
His proximity sends a shiver of desire down my back. No matter what he’s doing, I can’t deny that Spencer still captivates me like no man I’ve ever met.
“I remember a time, not so long ago, when my sweaty state would have turned you on rather than off.” His deep voice growls.
I giggle and bob my eyebrows, allowing myself to be swept along with his playful distraction. I’ve missed these moments of passion.
“I may have been persuaded if you hadn’t set such a tight schedule for me,” I retort.
“Is that so?” The tip of his nose trails along my jaw, as if he’s sniffing me.
“You said you only needed ten minutes, yet I gave you twenty,” he reminds me.
Our familiar playfulness makes it almost impossible for either of us to conceal our smirks.
Spencer’s complete focus, solely on me, always makes my heart race.
But seeing him pumped up from his workout, his muscles straining under his taut skin, as he leans over me, is causing my pulse to race uncontrollably.
The urgency of my mission and time restrictions fade away, distracted by the familiar sea of lust.
I peer down at his tight-fitting shorts, delighted to see our interaction is stimulating him just as much as me.
“Come and take a shower with me?” he commands.
Spencer doesn’t ask; he orders, unused to women saying no to him these days. I’m certain that I captured his interest when we first met because I pushed back. Testing him.
“No.” I spin around, lifting my dress to flash my bottom, “but I reckon I’ve got time for a quickie.” I tease bending over, and pressing my bottom into his hardness, certain he won’t resist.
A positive noise escapes his throat; “I love being married to such a slut.”