3. Spencer
3
SPENCER
L ife could be a bad fucking joke sometimes. A day might begin with doing a favor for a friend, but then it ended with a man’s past being thrown in his face.
It was a quarter to eight, and Rowan had yet to show herself, leaving me waiting in a corner booth that faced the room. When she arrived—and she would—I wanted to know. I wanted to watch her walk toward me, read her body language and expression as well as prepare myself somehow since her appearance today had knocked me off a cliff and sent me into a freefall.
I hadn’t thought about her. I was too busy thinking about Miles, about his mistakes and how they might come back to haunt us. Rowan, on the other hand? Maybe it was easier to imagine her as a ghost. The ghost she had transformed herself into with no help from me.
Of all the people to get in the way of this deal going through, I had overlooked the one who may tank my entire life, my reputation, everything I had broken my back to build over the past decade. I was supposed to be on top of this shit, a step ahead of Damian. How could I have forgotten her?
You forced yourself to forget.
I would need a hell of a lot more than a single drink to ease the pressure in my head. It had taken two years on the other side of the world, but I had eventually gotten her out of my system. The job my old man had forced me into turned out to be the best thing for me. I’d turned into a serious person, someone miles away from the arrogant, ignorant child I used to be. A trip that had started off as a way of getting me out of the country and out of the limelight had been my saving grace.
She had answered one question today, anyway—why I hadn’t been able to find her. I had only ever known her as the person she wanted to be. Rowan Leslie, ingenue, the starlet waiting in the wings for her big break. No wonder I hadn’t quite recognized her at first. It must have taken serious plastic surgery to undo the damage I’d caused.
“Spencer!” That high-pitched scream. Like something from an animal. Full of terror. Capable of freezing my guts years later.
And then everything else. The jarring crash. The shattering of glass and crunching of metal. Sirens. Flashing lights.
Silence from the passenger’s seat.
I may have been sitting in a comfortable, elegant lounge, but my memory was a different story. In my head, I was in a brightly lit, noisy hospital hallway.
Blood pounded in my ears, louder than the hiss of the fluorescent lights above, as I stood just outside the ER doors. My legs felt like jelly, the sterile scent of antiseptic clinging to my skin, suffocating me. She was in bad shape when they rushed her to the hospital, bad enough that they kept me away while they worked on her. The moment they whisked her away, the color drained from the world, replaced by an agonizing blur of whites and grays. Nurses and doctors had all but shoved me out of the way, their voices a rush of medical jargon I couldn’t decipher.
Still, after several hours, I had no answers, but Dad’s lawyer tracked me down, advising me to get the hell out of there. To go home and pretend I had nothing to do with the crash.
When dawn finally broke, I bolted through the hospital’s sliding doors, desperate. My breath caught in my throat when I saw her bed—empty. Not even the crumpled sheets were left behind. Panic clawed at my chest. The whir of wheels on linoleum blurred into a dizzying chaos as I darted around, my feet moving too fast to keep up with my frantic thoughts.
"Where is she?" My voice cracked, barely audible above the hum of machines. The nurse at the desk didn’t look up, flipping through paperwork.
“Transferred.”
Transferred? The word slammed into me, sending my heart plummeting. “To where? Where did they take her?” The faces around me blurred, a sea of blank expressions as if no one even noticed my world collapsing.
“We only know she was taken to another hospital,” one of the nurses at the desk said with a short, empty shrug. And that was it.
My thumb hovered over her name on the screen, my pulse racing in sync with the ringing. One ring. Two rings. No answer. The silence was crushing, more deafening than if she’d yelled. I stared at the phone, expecting the call to disconnect any second. Maybe she blocked me. Hell, I would’ve done the same if I were her.
I dragged a hand through my hair, the tension coiled in my chest tightening. The air felt thick as I made my way back to the car, the streetlights flickering in the early evening dusk. I got in, but even the hum of the engine couldn’t cut through the dead quiet that settled over me. It pressed in, suffocating, relentless.
Three days. Three long, silent days where the phone never lit up with her name, no angry texts, no desperate calls. Just… nothing.
When I finally worked up the nerve to go to her place, my gut twisted the moment I spotted the moving van outside. The front door stood open, the last rays of daylight casting long shadows over the boxes being carried out. I stopped, frozen at the edge of the sidewalk. Every thud of a box hitting the floor was a punch to the gut.
She was leaving. Moving on without me. And I had no one to blame but myself.
I cringed now at the memory of offering the moving crew an eye-popping amount of money to tell me where they were going with Rowan’s things. At the time, I’d almost exploded in rage when they refused and then threatened to call the cops if I trailed them.
Fuck, I had almost wanted them to. For the first time in my twenty-two years, I’d felt sorry for something I did. I wanted to be punished.
That was the one thing that stuck with me, that I wished I might have told her if she’d given me the chance. I couldn’t blame her for turning her back on me after what I had done. I couldn’t ask for forgiveness. I had no right to it. I had destroyed her life, killed her dreams, left her with a future that in no way resembled the one she’d been working toward.
Things didn’t look so destroyed now, considering what I’d observed earlier. She had found a way to turn everything around and build something for herself. Somehow, I doubted her current success meant I was off the hook for my part in the pivot she’d been forced to perform.
A wry grin tipped the corners of my mouth as I signaled for another tequila. It was a few minutes until eight, but I wasn’t worried. She’d show up. And if she didn’t, there wouldn’t be any hiding from me this time. I could find her, or else I would forfeit any hope of a decent night’s sleep until I knew for sure there was no hit coming out against me.
My eyes roamed lazily across the room, scanning the dimly lit lounge, drifting from table to table. Then, they shifted, almost of their own accord, snapping to the hostess stand, and there she was. My entire focus narrowed until all I saw was her golden hair, a beacon in the dimly lit lounge. I had to be out of my mind—that was the only explanation for my rapid pulse and shortened breath.
I imagined destroying her beauty for good like she ended up as some grotesque monster because I took a blind curve without easing up on the gas pedal. If anything, she was more beautiful than I remembered. The way she wore her hair, parted in the middle and hanging straight, meant most of her thin scar was covered. Anyone looking up from their table as she approached would see a blonde, blue-eyed, porcelain skin goddess.
My mouth went dry as I stood, waiting for her to slide into the high-backed leather booth. It was a semicircular shape, but rather than meet me in the middle, she sat close to the end. Like she wanted to hedge her bets in case a quick escape was necessary.
“Thank you for meeting me,” I offered, noting her chilly attitude.
She hardly looked at me as she settled in with a sigh. “You didn’t give me much of a choice.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “Threatening to get my number from Lex Landry. You move in different circles than you used to.”
“That makes two of us.” Everything about her was polished, from her glossy hair to the Birkin bag she carried over one shoulder and the stilettos she walked in like they were tennis shoes. The girl I used to know was gone.
I wanted to get to know the woman now. The idea sparked hunger deep in my core, so sudden and intense it shocked me before I pushed it down. Jerk off later. Business now. “You look great. Professional.” Fuck me, what kind of line was that? I’d have any other woman eating from the palm of my hand by now.
This was not any other woman.
Her smile was weak. “Thank you.”
“I was impressed seeing you today,” I added. “You’ve made a good name for yourself from what I hear.”
Her head tipped to the side. “You know, you don’t have to compliment me. I don’t need you to make me feel like things aren’t so bad.”
A server dropped by long enough for Rowan to order a glass of wine while I reconsidered my plan of attack. She was too sharp to fall for compliments, and she wasn’t shy about referring to the accident and any guilt I might feel.
“That’s not what I was doing,” I insisted once we were on our own again.
“I’m just saying, I know where this is coming from, and I don’t need to hear it.” A smug grin tipped her mouth. “I’m fine. My life has gone well.”
For the sake of keeping things positive, I forced myself to overlook the smugness. “I’m glad to hear it. Tell me about your practice.”
“You don’t really want to know about my practice, do you?”
Her deadpan delivery brought me up short. So much for pleasantries. “How can you say that?”
“Can we cut the bullshit for a minute?” Her wine arrived, but she left it untouched, folding her slim arms on the table. “Why did you want me to come here tonight? It’s been eleven years, and somehow fate put us together in the same room, and you tell me there’s something important we have to talk about. No, I think the word you used was crucial . It was crucial that we have a drink tonight. Why? To catch up? Respectfully, I have other things to do.” She lifted her glass and took a sip, her gaze unflinching, silently daring me to cut to the chase.
I had the sense of sand slipping through my fingers no matter how tightly I clenched them. This was all going wrong, but then again, there was no way for it to go right. Considering her cold, hostile attitude, things weren’t looking good. If Damian Fields approached her now, promising money if it meant ruining me, she would’ve taken it without blinking.
I couldn’t afford to take chances. It was time to backpedal and smooth things over. Yet, I had next to no experience with this outside of business. Personal issues were normally cut and dry. Then again, nothing about Rowan had ever been that simple.
After sipping my drink, I started again, cutting to the chase this time. “There is something important I need to discuss with you. But there’s something else you need to know first.”
The word contempt came to mind when she snorted. She’d had a lot of time to seethe over what I’d done. I couldn’t blame her for that, but this attitude was starting to strain my patience. “I can hardly wait to hear whatever it is you think I need to know,” she murmured, sipping her wine again.
I would walk away from this with bruised balls if she didn’t let up a little. Nothing mattered more than keeping her on my side, keeping things civil if not friendly. Not that I would’ve minded a little warmth, especially since the proximity was beginning to stir up all kinds of memories, but I couldn’t ask for too much. I’d settle for reaching an understanding.
“I looked for you. I didn’t want to leave you alone. You were transferred to another hospital, and nobody wanted to tell me where you went. I didn’t know your real name. Besides…” I added, “Hospitals don’t hand out personal information, not even when your last name is Collins. But I tried. I did.”
She wasn’t expecting that. For the first time since sitting, her haughty bitch attitude slipped. Her lashes fluttered, and for one brief moment, there was a sense of getting through the wall around her.
Until her jaw tightened, her teeth grinding almost audible as her gaze hardened to a glare. “Is that all you have to say? You didn’t know my real name? Somebody certainly did.”
If there was one thing I hated above all else, it was the sick sensation crawling its way up my spine as I fought to catch up with her meaning. Nothing irked me worse than being behind the curve. “What does that mean? Somebody? Who is somebody?” I asked.
She leaned in again, her voice turning to a hiss while a bright color bloomed on her cheeks. “Here’s some news for you if you’re really interested in catching up. I’m not the na?ve little idiot I used to be. I’m not going to fall for a line about how hard you tried to find me after what happened. We both know that was never the real problem.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I admitted. It was not something I felt comfortable announcing, but it was true. She had me at a loss. “What was the real problem?”
Again, her lashes fluttered before she shook herself a little. Her posture straightened, her chin lifted. “Why don’t you tell me what your problem is instead? I have somewhere I need to be.”
A date? The idea left me clenching my jaw. It was a strange reaction, considering how little I had thought of this woman in the years since I forced her out of my head. Since she vanished on me. Suddenly, she was in front of me again, and I couldn’t imagine anything I’d like better than wrapping my hands around the neck of whoever she was in a hurry to see.
She arched an eyebrow, expectant, challenging me. “Anytime now,” she murmured, which did nothing but take my blood from a simmer to a slow boil.
I had to remember what was at stake. I could handle a blow to my pride if it meant protecting what was mine. We had come too far for me to drop the ball now over a blonde with a wicked attitude. “Someone may approach you,” I explained, watching her closely. “I need to know you aren’t vulnerable to bribery.”
“Excuse me? Bribery?” Her head snapped back, a look of confusion crossing her face. “Where is this coming from? What did you do?”
“It’s all business.” She leveled a disbelieving look at me, her mouth going thin in a smirk that threatened to get my blood boiling again. “It’s true. An opponent has already used my business partner’s past against him. Miles Young. You may have heard something about him in the media.”
I was surprised when she shrugged. “Honestly, no. What line of work are you in? This is the first time hearing about you doing more than cruising around the strip, getting into trouble.”
That, I couldn’t believe. “You’re lying.”
Her face went slack for a second. “Excuse me?” she hissed. “You don’t have the first idea?—”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t google me the second you had a free minute today. Come on, Rowan.” I sighed, shaking my head. For the first time since she sat down, I had the upper hand, and I wasn’t about to squander it. “We’re both adults. We both know how the world works. Drop the shit.”
Folding her hands on the white tablecloth, she offered an empty smile. “By all means.” A wall may as well have come down between us. Hell, we may as well have been doing this over Zoom, hundreds of miles apart. That was how far she felt from me. It was easy enough to pretend it didn’t strike me as sad, that I wasn’t disappointed. The problem was, I couldn’t lie to myself.
“I had hoped to approach this from a place of friendship,” I made sure to tell her because I wasn’t the one bringing hostility to the table. She needed to know that. “A piece of technology I’m looking to patent is being pursued by a competitor who plays dirty. He already scoured my partner’s past and found something to dredge up. He’s trying to stir up drama, get our investors questioning their involvement, all in hopes of slowing down our work so he can get the patent before we do.”
I watched as understanding dawned. The slight softening of her gaze, the gentle parting of her lips once she realized what this was all about. “I see,” she whispered. “You’re afraid this will come out too.” She waved a hand to indicate the thin web of scars that marred her otherwise perfect beauty.
“It occurred to me,” I confirmed. “There’s no delicate way to say it. Has anyone approached you?”
“That’s all this was about? Making sure I keep my mouth shut?” She laughed softly while lifting the glass to her lips. Lips that used to feel so damn good sliding up and down my shaft. The thought hit me with surprising force, making me forget Damian and the patent and everything else but the increased pressure in my pants.
“You make it sound pretty ugly.”
She touched a hand to her chest. “Oh, I’m so sorry to offend you. That’s the last thing I would ever want to do.” Finishing her wine, she almost slammed the glass onto the table. A couple sitting nearby noticed, giving each other a meaningful look before returning to their conversation.
Rowan either didn’t see them or didn’t care. Considering who I was dealing with, I would go with the latter. “Have you forgotten the contract I signed?” she asked.
There was more to the question than what was on the surface. I knew it, thanks to the intensity of her stare, almost like she was daring me to argue. The mention of a contract made my skin crawl. Did she think it was my idea to have it drawn up as if Dad would’ve given me a say in anything once I made the biggest mistake of my life? “I never saw the document, so I wouldn’t know the terms,” I explained, and it was the truth.
I had forgotten the sound of her laughter, the way it started as a rumbling in her throat before bubbling up and out. It was almost bawdy, like a woman remembering a dirty joke she wanted to share. It never did match her almost supernatural beauty.
“Right,” she barked out, her laughter dying as she abruptly dipped a hand into her bag and pulled out a wallet. “Well, this was fun. Thanks for catching up. You have nothing to worry about.”
We were in public, meaning the impulse to restrain her had to be suppressed. My fists tightened under the table, trembling from the strain of staying civil for the sake of appearances. “Wait a minute,” I gritted out through a tense smile, my eyes darting from side to side in case we had observers. The last thing I could afford was bad publicity. “Don’t make this ugly.”
“Me? You’re accusing me of making things ugly?” There was that laughter again, and even as I stared at her in amazement, I couldn’t help but remember hearing it late at night, in my bed, when we would talk until dawn. Wrapped up in each other, limbs tangled, sharing breath along with the rest of ourselves.
“Here’s what’s really happening, Spencer.” She lifted a hand to signal for the server, holding up a credit card—the international symbol for bring me the check now . “You don’t want your regrettable past coming back to haunt you and your business partner, whoever he is. That’s what this is about, so let’s not pretend otherwise. Don’t worry,” she concluded, looking at me with nothing but contempt. “I won’t ruin anything for you. As usual, everything will go exactly the way you want it. Isn’t that the way life has always worked for you?”
“Could we not turn this into something it doesn’t need to be?”
“If anything, I should thank you for this little meeting. You showed me something I wasn’t aware of until tonight. Four years ofundergrad, three years of law school, busting my ass to pass the bar and survive my first associate position, and I’m still na?ve as hell when it comes to you. I honestly thought for a second there that you might have invited me for a drink to clear the air. To apologize for what happened and how it happened.”
“You hardly gave me the chance.”
“Bullshit,” she whispered. “If the roles were reversed, I would have dropped to my knees and begged forgiveness the second I saw you walk through the door. Nothing could’ve stopped me from making an ass out of myself in front of the whole world. But you have the nerve to sit there and act like I’m the reason you didn’t get to apologize? Time hasn’t changed you as much as you want me to think it has. You haven’t changed a bit.”
What was worse? The words she chose or the way they landed like the crack of a whip? It would’ve been easy to remind her she ran away, cut me off, couldn’t be bothered to answer her phone the dozens of times I called, or leave a fucking forwarding address. Instead, I bit my tongue until the sting was too much.
It was enough to cut off what almost burst out of me and would, without a doubt, have left me with a dangerous enemy. “That’s not true.”
“It’s not?” Her eyebrows damn near jumped off her forehead when they shot up all at once. “Then go ahead. Apologize. You’ve had more than ten years to come up with one, right? Let’s hear it.”
“Don’t be a child,” I scoffed. “I didn’t come here to be put on the spot.”
“Of course you didn’t. You came here to cover your ass.” She stood, shaking her head as she slung her bag over her arm. “Why would I consider paying the check? This is on you. Thanks for the drink.”
No, no, she couldn’t leave. Not like this. “Wait,” I urged, standing.
“Don’t bother.” Pulling out her phone, she muttered, “Congratulations, your ass is covered. I signed a contract, and the terms were crystal clear. You have the nerve to sit there and act like you didn’t know the first thing about it. You are so full of shit that I have to wonder if you even know how full of it you are.”
“You are not leaving like this.”
“Watch me,” she whispered, tapping her screen. “My Uber is already on the way. It’s been a real pleasure, Spencer.” The venom dripping from her voice told another story.
I took a few steps behind her, intent on following when our server cut me off. “Your check, sir?” she asked, handing me a leather folder while Rowan stalked off without so much as a glance over her shoulder.
There was no choice but to let her go unless I wanted to start a scene. It pissed me off watching her leave, rooted to the spot when I wanted nothing more than to follow her. Catch her. Make her understand.
How was I supposed to convince myself she wouldn’t tell the world I almost killed her when we were little more than kids? That I had crushed her dreams and walked away unscathed?