13. Delilah
Chapter 13
Delilah
T he drive home on Sunday evening is quiet. Spencer obviously isn’t in the mood for small talk, and I’m okay with that. I’m tired and looking forward to a long, hot shower and some sleep. I’m young and reasonably fit, so I thought I’d breeze working seven days a week, but I’m only fourteen days in, and I feel like I’ve hit a wall already.
By the time we pull into my driveway, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. “I appreciate you coming to get me,” I say over a yawn as I reach for the door handle. “And bringing me home.” My movements are sluggish at best.
“Let me get that for you,” he replies, hastily removing his seat belt and then exiting the car. Once he opens my door and helps me out, he collects my suitcase from the back seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, glancing towards the house. When his eyes meet mine again, he reaches up to grasp my chin between his forefinger and thumb, slightly tilting my head back. “Your sister is watching us through the window,” he whispers as he leans in and places his lips directly over mine. They are so soft … so warm.
The kiss is completely unexpected, but surprisingly, I don’t hate it.
When he draws back, his gaze moves from my mouth to my eyes, and there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that lights me up from the inside out. A shiver runs through my entire body when the pad of his thumb softly skims over the place his lips just touched. It’s a gesture so intimate I feel tears sting the back of my eyes.
The moment is gone as quickly as it came, as he retreats a step and shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Good night, Delilah.”
“Good night, Mr Prescott.”
He stands there and watches me until I’m safely inside. Only then does he climb back into the car and drive away. I know this because, after closing the front door; I peeked out of the side window and watched him leave.
He kissed me.
I can’t believe he kissed me.
I reach up, placing the tips of my fingers against my lips, and when I do, I feel them curve into a smile. I know it was all an act for my sister’s benefit … but it didn’t feel fake, it felt like something more.
My moment is broken when the She-Devil herself comes storming down the hallway. “I always knew you were a loser, but I never would’ve picked you for a whore.”
“Excuse me,” I snap, spinning around to face her. The look she gives me might be murderous, but I can clearly see by her red puffy eyes that she’s been crying. Is there trouble in paradise already? “That’s rich, coming from the likes of you. ”
I’ve only been intimate with one man—Kayne. Unlike her, who’s had a revolving door of conquests in her relatively short life.
“A few months ago, you were engaged to be married … it didn’t take you long to jump into bed with someone else. If that doesn’t scream whore, I don’t know what does.”
The laugh that bubbles out of me could almost be described as manic. “You were fucking Kayne while we were still together. What does that say about you?”
“Now, now, girls,” my mother says, entering the hallway. “You are sisters … you shouldn’t be fighting.”
“Hah,” I scoff. “Sisters, what a joke. A true sister would never sleep with her sibling’s fiancé behind her back.”
“Delilah,” my mother scolds. “We’ve been over this.”
“We’ve been over nothing,” I yell. “You all just expect me to accept what happened … well, I’m sorry, I can’t. What she did was wrong … on so many levels. I would never?—”
“Never what?” Abigail retorts smugly. “Do that to me? That’s exactly what you did … you stole Spencer.”
“You are crazier than I thought if you believe that. He was never yours to take.”
“Abigail has a point,” my mother chimes in. “You could’ve dated anyone … why did it have to be Spencer? You know how your sister felt about him.”
Of course, she’s going to defend her. These people make me feel like I’m borderline insane.
“What she felt for him was delusional and completely one-sided … he didn’t even know she existed until he came here for dinner.” Tears sting my eyes as I stab my finger in my sister’s direction. “The same goes for her! She co uld’ve jumped into bed with anyone else, but she chose my fiancé. My fucking fiancé!”
My mother gasps, placing her hand on her chest. “Delilah.”
“It’s true. I hate to break it to you, Mother, but it was no secret that your precious Abigail was a sure thing with all the boys in high school. Why do you think they fawned all over her? She had quite a reputation.”
“She’s lying!” Abigail shrieks, but we both know I’m not.
“Wasn’t it you who once bragged about sleeping with the entire football team?”
“Ahh,” Abigail screams, tugging on her own hair in frustration. “Why are you so hellbent on ruining my life?”
Pot, kettle.
I shake my head in disbelief. “How do you figure that?”
“Spencer was my future … not yours.”
“And Kayne was mine, you spiteful, vindictive, narcissistic, gaslighting troll.”
“Delilah! That is enough,” my father bellows from the front room.
I can’t even with these people.
My sister gives me a smug smile, and something inside me snaps. “I hate you!” I roar.
They are words I never thought I’d say out loud, but right now, I mean them with every fibre of my being.
Abigail’s cunning smile grows as she leans in and whispers, “Don’t get too comfortable, Lilah … I took Kayne from you and now I’m going to set my sights on Spencer.”
“Thankfully, skank isn’t his style. And why are you so obsessed with the men I date? Do you enjoy my sloppy seconds, Ab?” The words are out of my mouth before my brain even registers what I’m saying.
“Fuck you,” she sneers.
I reach for the handle of my suitcase, preparing to flee to the safety of my bedroom. Tears of pure rage are now clouding my eyes, so when my sister raises her hand and violently slaps my face, I don’t even see it coming. I certainly feel it, though.
Slamming my bedroom door behind me, I wipe my stinging bottom lip, only to find blood on my fingers when I pull my hand back. Abigail is having a complete meltdown in the hallway—crazy bitch—and my parents are trying to console her.
The loss and devastation I felt when I first found out about the affair pales in comparison to what I’m experiencing right now. I’ve never felt more alone in my life. I can’t stay here with these people. It’s obvious where their loyalties will always lie.
I lift my suitcase onto my bed and unzip it as I begin to throw all my belongings inside. My hands are shaking as I slide my phone out of the back pocket of my denim skirt and dial Spencer’s number. I have nowhere else to turn.
The moment I hear his voice, I break down.
“Delilah, sweetheart … fuck, what’s wrong?” His concern only seems to wreck me further.
“I … I …” The tears are coming thick and fast and I’m so overcome with emotion I can’t even string two words together.
“Hold tight. I’m turning the car around now … I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
True to his word, I can hear someone bashing on the front door a short time later. It’s followed by some commotion in the hallway before my bedroom door swings open so violently it hits the adjoining wall with a thud, startling me.
I turn to see Spencer standing in my doorway. His breathing is rapid, and the concern etched all over his handsome face is evident. In an instant, he’s stalking across the room and folding me in his big muscular arms.
He holds me, tenderly rubbing his hand up and down the length of my spine until the tears stop. Once I’ve settled somewhat, he gently cups my face in his hands and tilts my head back so he can get a better look at me. His eyes search mine briefly, but when they flicker down to my cut lip, I see his worried expression morph into something else.
Leaning down, he briefly places his lips against my hair. His tenderness has the tears rising to my eyes again. He doesn’t ask me how I am; he can see I’m not okay. He doesn’t even probe as to what happened, but when he glances at my open suitcase on the bed—with my clothes haphazardly thrown inside—he releases me.
I watch on as he grabs the last of my things off the mattress, and stores them inside my suitcase before zipping it up. Once he manoeuvres it onto the floor, one of his hands wraps around the handle, while the other reaches for mine. Then he starts walking. Out of my room, down the hallway, and through the front door. He gets me seated in the car first, securing my seat belt, before stowing my suitcase on the back seat.
We travel to his house in complete silence, but his big strong hand remains wrapped around mine for the entire journey. It anchors me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel seen, cared for, and safe.
Words cannot convey how grateful I am to this man.
When we arrive at Spencer’s apartment building, it’s close to midnight. It’s a rinse and repeat of last night when he picked me up from work and brought me here for the first time … with one obvious distinction.
Once we’ve parked in the underground parking area of his building, he helps me from the car and collects my bag, but this time when we cross the polished concrete, heading for the elevator that will take us up to his floor, he reaches for my hand and entwines our fingers together.
I glance up at him, but he keeps his face trained forward. I can see by the pinch of his eyebrows that he’s still angry … and I’m hoping it’s not with me. The last thing this man needs is my family’s drama to add to his already stressful life.
When we reach the elevator, he stabs at the button with more ferocity than needed. “I’m sorry,” I murmur.
His gaze snaps down to me. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Delilah,” he barks, and when his grip on my hand tightens, I feel a lump rise to the back of my throat.
“I only called you—” I dip my face before continuing, “—because I had nobody else.”
“I’m glad you did,” is all he says.
The ride up to his floor is silent. After entering his apartment, he abandons my suitcase in the main room and leads me down the long hallway—past the room I slept in last night and towards his bedroom. The one he distinctively told me was off-limits.
As soon as I realise that, I try to tug my hand out of his grip, but he holds tight. “Where are you taking me?”
“To my bathroom, to clean up your face.”
“Oh.”
Deep frown lines mar his forehead as he stops in front of his bedroom door and glances down at me. “Where did you think I was taking you?” When I grimace, he follows up with, “Never mind, don’t answer that.”
He flicks on the light when we enter, and my gaze moves around his bedroom as we pass through. Last night as I lay in bed, the perverted and obsessive side of me—the side I’ve only recently discovered—wondered what his room looked like, and if he slept in pyjamas, his underwear … or God forbid, naked.
His space is nothing like I imagined, apart from being luxurious. It’s masculine, and a touch broody, with dark blue walls and bulky wooden furniture. The scent of his cologne still lingers in the air. It smells exotic, musky, and delicious, just like him.
My skin prickles as I stare over at his neatly made king-size bed that sits smack-bang in the middle of the room. Beyond is a row of floor-to-ceiling windows that line the far wall. I bet the view from up here is spectacular.
As soon as we enter the bathroom, which is just as lavish as the rest of his place, he releases my hand. “Sit,” he orders, gesturing to the side of the giant bathtub. I do as he asks, and my fingers nervously knot in my lap as he rifles through the drawer beneath the vanity.
He lays everything out on the marble countertop once he finds what he’s looking for. I suck in a sharp breath when he turns to face me. He looks like he’s experiencing some sort of emotional distress as he gazes down at me and it tugs at my wounded heart. I never should have gotten him involved in this mess.
My mind races as I try to think of an alternate plan. I’ve saved a decent amount of money over the past few weeks … well, enough to get me a hotel room for the next couple of nights. We both have work in the morning and I feel terrible keeping him up .
When I stand, his frown lines deepen. “Where are you going?”
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Spencer, but I think it’s best if I leave.”
“Leave,” he growls, and I don’t miss the slight panic that just flashed through his eyes. “And go where? Back to that place … with them? I don’t think so.”
“I have a little money saved; I can stay at a hotel.”
“Not when I have a perfectly suitable room you can stay in for free.”
“I never should’ve gotten you involved in this mess … it was selfish of me.”
“You didn’t all of a sudden become selfish, Delilah. What you became was harder to manipulate … don’t confuse yourself between the two. Now sit.”
“I …”
He gives me a look so stern that I immediately comply. “Good girl.”
Turning, he flicks on the tap and wets a face washer. My heart is thumping in my chest when he wrings out the excess water and squats down in front of me. I’ve never been able to observe him this closely before, and I’m now just noticing the specks of gold that surround the irises of his rich chocolate-brown eyes. They shine with warmth like a cosy firelight. It’s scary how comfortable I’ve become with this man, considering I didn’t even know him two weeks ago.
“This might sting a bit,” he says, bringing the warm cloth to the side of my mouth. His movements are so soft, so gentle, and a complete contrast to the fierce and unyielding man I’ve come to know.
When he pulls the cloth away, his face remains mere inches from my own. His gaze flickers from my lips to lock with my eyes. I can feel his hot breath as it skates across my skin, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still as the air around us crackles. I have an overwhelming compulsion to lean forward, closing the distance between us, so I can place my lips on his, just like he did with me earlier tonight.
Before I can gain the courage to do just that, the moment is broken when he abruptly stands. Spencer clears his throat as he gives me his back again and tosses the cloth into the sink.
The upper part of his body leans in towards the mirror as his hands reach out to grasp the edges of the countertop. “Are you going to tell me what happened tonight?” He looks so big, so formidable and I can see the muscles in his back ripple underneath his formfitting shirt. His grip on the marble is tight because his knuckles are now turning white. Is he bracing himself for my explanation?
“I fought with my sister,” I answer.
“I gathered that. Did it have anything to do with our kiss?”
I feel my cheeks heat. “Maybe … and me staying here last night probably didn’t help. When I walked through the front door, she launched her attack.”
“Hmm,” he hums in the back of his throat. “I apologise, Delilah. I’m sorry that my actions have made this situation worse for you.”
“Hah,” I scoff. “My situation was already dire before you entered the picture.”
“What was your parents’ take on this fight?”
I swallow down the lump that has now returned to my throat. “They took Abigail’s side, of course.”
“Of course they did,” he sneers.
I blow out a puff of air as my eyes travel down the length of Spencer’s spine, pausing when they reach the round, tight buns of his backside. I might be in the middle of a crisis, but I can still take a moment to appreciate how well he fills out those black trousers he’s wearing.
When I hear a throat clear, my eyes snap up to the mirror where I find him watching me. Shit. My gaze quickly shifts to the far wall as I stand. “It’s late, and we both have work in the morning.”
He spins around to face me, and I’m thankful for the few feet that’s now between us. “I need to put some antiseptic on that cut first.”
I hold out my hand. “I can do it. I’m going to have a shower first … if that’s okay.”
He reaches for the bottle and cotton balls he placed on the countertop earlier. “Of course.” I try not to react to the shiver that shoots up my arm when our fingers brush.
“Thank you … umm … for everything, Spencer.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Delilah.”
“I do.”
“Well, you’re welcome.”
Twenty minutes later, I exit the bathroom in the spare room, and I see a glass of water beside my bed and two paracetamols. Next to that is an ice pack for my lip. Tears sting the back of my eyes as I pop the pills into my mouth and swallow them down.
He’d surely deny it if I ever confronted him, but underneath that tough exterior of his is a beautiful, thoughtful human being. He’s like my knight in shining armour, and I may not deserve his kindness, but I appreciate it nevertheless.