16. Spencer
Chapter 16
Spencer
T he first thing that assaults me when I step off the elevator is the delicious aroma. My stomach grumbles on cue. I’ve been so busy gathering intel I’ve barely eaten all day.
Is Delilah cooking?
I open the front door and immediately pause on the threshold when I see my new temporary houseguest in the kitchen.
Her back is to me and she’s on the tip of her toes as she reaches up to the upper cabinet that holds the wine glasses. I take a second to admire her as my gaze peruses down the length of her tight little body. A strangled groan rumbles in the back of my throat when my eyes reach her jean shorts.
Fuck me , those shapely legs of hers have my mind going straight to the gutter. If I’m not careful, this woman is going to be my undoing.
I need to enforce a dress code for her when I’m home, which may sound ridiculous, but I think it’s needed. Something nun-like. Especially if I’m going to avoid a redo of my shower escapade the other night. Even unknowingly, she had me jacking off to images of her. I’m already hanging by a thread as it is. The last thing I need is encouragement from her, even if it’s unintentional. Her mere presence is enough.
Snapping out of my lust-induced haze, I place my briefcase down and stalk across the room.
“Here, let me,” I offer, stepping up behind her. I’m careful to make sure my body does not come into contact with hers as I grab what she needs.
“Thank you,” she says with a sweet smile as she glances up at me from over her shoulder. Even though there is no part of us touching, she’s too damn close … and that intoxicating scent of her shampoo is now invading all my senses.
I place the glass down on the countertop, heavier than I intended, and take a step back, followed closely by another. “Can you get me another one, please? I need two.”
“Sure,” I grumble.
“You seem extra growly this evening … is everything okay?”
“I’m not growly,” I state. “It’s just been a long day.”
“Good thing I was about to pour you one of these then,” she says, reaching for the bottle of wine and filling the glass. Her pretty blue eyes sparkle when she extends her hand to me. I hate how much I love seeing her in my space.
I bring the glass to my lips and take a large gulp.
“Better? she asks.
I grunt in reply. I may need the entire bottle once I confess what I’ve done, and disclose the secrets I’ve uncovered.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she says, rounding me and moving over to the stovetop .
I arch an eyebrow. “You’ve cooked?”
“I did … don’t look so shocked. I’m not just a pretty face,” she jokes.
My eyes track down her body once more, and I feel my cock twitch in my trousers.
You are way more than a pretty face, Miss St. James.
“Go sit. I’ll bring the food out when it’s ready.”
My gaze moves to the dining table. “You set the table?”
“That’s something normal people do when they’re preparing to sit down and have a meal.”
“That’s not what I meant, smartarse. It looks … dare I say, romantic. Where did that candle come from?”
“I bought it. This is a thank you for all that you’ve done for me dinner … it’s not a date. We broke up, remember?”
I bark out a laugh. “Ah, the infamous breakup that I still don’t remember you discussing with me.”
Her eyes slightly narrow. “We broke up, Spencer … there, the conversation is had.”
I bring my glass to my mouth to hide my grin. “Whatever you say, Delilah.”
Delilah stands and clears the table after our first course … and colour me impressed.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a restaurant-worthy meal. I’m eager to see what the next course entails.
After refilling both our glasses, I sit back in my seat and take another gulp of wine as I track her every move. She looks completely at home in my kitchen. This place has always been my sanctuary. My solitude is something I’ve prized, until now. I’m realising I could get used to coming home to this … to her . It’s a thought I’m not entirely comfortable with.
She’s far too young, and even if she was interested in pursuing something further—which I’m most certainly not—it would never work. Having a house guest is something fresh, an adventure of sorts, but I’m positive the novelty will wear off soon enough.
When she turns and I see her holding a large serving platter in her hand, I quickly stand. “Let me get that,” I offer. I glance down at the dish as I carry it to the table, and again I’m impressed. “This looks delicious.”
I’ve dined at the finest restaurants all over the world during my lifetime, but I can probably count on one hand how many home-cooked meals I’ve eaten.
Once the last course is devoured, I sit back in my chair and run my flattened palm over my abs. I’m thoroughly stuffed. But the knowledge of my confession—of the file I have sitting in my briefcase—sits heavy in my gut.
My eyes flicker to Delilah. She looks happy, and maybe a little tipsy. Her cheeks are flushed, and a sweet smile graces her pretty face. “Thank you for dinner.”
“You’re welcome,” she replies as her smile grows. She has no idea what this meant to me. It’s been an enjoyable evening—the food, the company, all of it.
I reach for my wine and take another sip as I brace myself to come clean. But when she lets out a cute little yawn, I decide tonight is not the night. She needs her rest, and the clusterfuck I was about to reveal will kill any chance of that.
“Why don’t you head to bed? I can clean this up,” I offer.
“I’ll help. ”
“Delilah,” I grumble when she pushes back her chair and stands.
“Spencer,” she counters. “You’ve had a long day. We’ll be able to knock it over in no time if we tackle it together. Then we can both head to bed.” She pauses for a moment as her eyes dart in my direction. “Separately, of course.”
I chuckle as I stand and reach for my dessert bowl and wine glass. “Of course.” I refuse to let my mind think of the alternative.
I inhale a deep breath and then slowly release it as I reach for the receiver on my desk to buzz Delilah. “Can I see you in my office for a moment, Miss St. James?” I ask when she answers.
“Of course, Mr Prescott.”
It’s now or never. This knowledge has been forefront in my mind all morning, and it’s hindering my productivity. She needs to know what’s been going on, and then together, I can help her deal with it.
She knocks on my open door once before entering. She’s wearing a body-hugging pink pencil dress today, accompanied by a matching short-sleeved pink bolero jacket. It must be new because I’ve never seen her wear it before. The heels on her feet are white, and her long blonde hair is pulled back into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. She looks professional and damn sexy.
I left for the office before she was even out of bed this morning. It was a cowardly move, but I needed some distance. I wasn’t sure if I could’ve handled another cosy breakfast together.
When she arrived at the office with my coffee in hand, it was a struggle not to ogle that incredible arse of hers as she retreated back to her desk, but surprisingly, I managed.
“You wanted to see me,” she says, crossing the room.
“Yes. Take a seat,” I reply. She does as I ask, and I sit forward and knot my hands together, resting them on the desk. “I found some things out yesterday that I thought you might like to know.”
“Such as?”
“Did you know your sister has an Only Fans page?”
Her pretty eyes widen. “She does?”
“Yes. She’s had it for over a year … she has quite the little side hustle going on.”
“You saw it? You looked at pictures of her naked?”
“No, that woman repulses me, but trust me when I say the account exists.”
“Wow.”
“I’m surprised Kayne is okay with that … he was always jealous of other guys looking at me when we were together.”
“I don’t think he knows. I found nothing in his browsing history to confirm he does.”
“His browsing history? How were you able to see that?”
I clear my throat and tug on my tie as I sit back in my chair. “I added a link to your chat thread with them yesterday … they both clicked on it. It gave me full access to their cloud.”
She gasps. “You hacked into their computers?”
“Technically, they gave me permission.”
“You mean, unknowingly permitted you. Is that even legal?”
I click my tongue. “Delilah,” I say. “I did it for you … knowledge is power. ”
“What else did you find?” she asks, but I can tell she’s not happy about this.
I exhale a long breath as I open my top drawer and retrieve the file. “I only skimmed the surface, but you won’t like the things I’ve already found.”
“Why?”
“Abigail wasn’t his first, Delilah.”
“What do you mean?”
“I only went back a year, then stopped. There were many other women, including a few prostitutes.”
“He was cheating on me the entire time?”
When I see the tears rise in her eyes, I nod my head. “For a while, at least. It’s all in here,” I say, dropping the file onto the desk. “I’m sorry to be the one to inform you, but I thought you had a right to know.”
She picks up the folder and opens it, and that’s when I see the first tear fall. My heart hurts for her as I sit here and watch her eyes scan over the first few papers on top.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispers. The heel of her free hand rubs over her thorax as her ex’s betrayal sinks in. “Prostitutes.” She sits there unblinking for the longest time as all the colour drains from her face. “I think I’m going to be sick.”