30. Delilah
Chapter 30
Delilah
“ W hat are you doing?” I ask Spencer when I find him riffling through one of the kitchen drawers.
“Looking for the body corporate information … I have it here somewhere.”
“Why, is there a problem?”
“Yes,” he snaps. “Some arsehole thought they could park their heap of shit car in one of my spaces.”
“Oh,” I reply with a wince. “That arsehole is me.”
He briefly glances at me over his shoulder, and when he notices the look on my face, he does a double take. “What?”
“You’re talking about the silver Mazda, right?”
He closes the drawer and turns to face me. “Yes.”
I raise my hand slightly and wiggle my fingers. “That’s mine. I picked it up earlier today from my parents’ house.”
“Let me get this straight,” he growls, adding a frown for extra effect. “You went back to your childhood home … alone?”
“Yes. ”
“And then you drove that eyesore here?”
“I don’t appreciate you calling my car an eyesore. She’s been good to me over the years.”
“ She is a heap of shit, Delilah. A death trap! I forbid you to drive it.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Like you have a say in what I drive.”
“Like I don’t. I’m not having my girlfriend risking her life behind the wheel of that … thing.”
Did he just refer to me as his girlfriend? I’ll revisit that one later. There’s a more pressing situation to address.
My hands immediately go to my hips. “Thing,” I screech.
“That’s a compliment in comparison.”
I gasp. “How dare you? I’ll have you know my parents bought me that car as a graduation present. It’s served me well for four long years.”
He slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “And that ends today.”
“What are you doing?” I grumble.
“Calling a tow truck to take that hunk-of-junk to the scrap yard where it belongs. I’ll have a replacement vehicle brought in first thing tomorrow.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me, sweetheart. I can’t in good conscience stand by and watch the woman I’m falling in love with risk her life behind the wheel of a car that isn’t even roadworthy.”
I rear back. “You’re falling in love with me?”
He tilts his face towards the ceiling and his cheeks puff out as he exhales a long, exaggerated breath. I get the feeling he didn’t mean to confess that part. I stand there with my mouth gaped open until his eyes hesitantly meet mine again.
“Yes. ”
“But we’ve only been … you know … for a few weeks.”
“Fucking?”
I straighten my spine. “That’s a little crass.”
“Is it? Correct me if I’m wrong, but did you not scream out, ‘Fuck me harder, Spencer’ , last night in bed?”
I pull back my shoulders and lift my chin slightly. “I was lost in the moment,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat despite my bravado.
He chuckles as he steps forward and slides his arms around my waist, tugging my body to his. “How about outside the bedroom? We refer to it as lovemaking, but inside the bedroom, we can be as filthy as we want.”
My lips thin, to disguise the fact that I like his dirty mouth. I’m mad at him right now, so I will not be throwing any compliments his way. “Fine. Now, back to my car.”
“It’s got to go, sweetheart.”
“It’s staying!”
“It’s either the car or me, your choice.”
“You’re making me choose?”
“Yes.”
“You’re bluffing?”
“Am I?”
“What if I pick the car?”
“You won’t.”
“You sound very sure of yourself.”
“I think—” he says, leaning in to brush his lips with mine, “—you are into me just as much as I am you, but you’ve been keeping me at arm’s length the past few weeks because you’re protecting your heart. Am I right?”
I bow my head and lift one shoulder. Sometimes I hate how intuitive he is.
He uses his forefinger and thumb to grasp hold of my chin, bringing my gaze back to his. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to protect your heart around me. I promise I’ll always take good care of it. Always. You have my word.”
Cue the tears.
Spencer: I have a meeting across town this afternoon. I’ll see you when I get home. I shouldn’t be late.
Me: Okay.
Spencer: Don’t cook. I want to take you out tonight. x
That is the first time he’s added a kiss to the end of his message, and I can’t help feeling that things between us have turned a corner. My head has been lost in the clouds all day, thinking about his admission yesterday.
Part of me wondered if he was getting ahead of himself, but when he took me to bed after dinner, what we did didn’t feel like fucking. It felt like we were making love.
I know this is stupid since I was in a four-year relationship before this, but I have never experienced what I did last night. Not even close. Our connection was palpable.
The way he touched me, moved inside of me, worshipped every inch of me. Then there were the kisses. The passion behind them differed from what we usually share. They were on a whole other level—not the desperate, smouldering kind. These were deep, sweet, and all-consuming. To the point I felt like an emotional mess by the end.
Is this what it feels like to be truly loved ?
I lay awake long after Spencer had fallen asleep, just replaying it over in my head. Trying to make sense of it all.
How did we go from strangers in a fake relationship to this ?
I realise now what I had with Kayne was a total farce. I was living in a fantasy land, seeing things that weren’t really there. Yes, he spoke the words often, but his actions said otherwise. It’s funny how blinded you are when you’re living it, but the clarity of a situation can be starkly different when you find yourself on the outside looking in.
Am I falling in love with Spencer as well?
That thought scares the hell out of me.
I’ve showered and changed into a pair of tight white jeans, a cute off-the-shoulder top, and my long tan boots by the time Spencer arrives home.
I didn’t know where he was taking me, so I chose something in the middle … dressy casual.
His face lights up as soon as his eyes land on me, and my stomach does a flip-flop.
I think I have my answer.
I am falling in love with this man.
Yikes.
“You look lovely,” he says, placing his briefcase down and drawing me into his arms.
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure where we were going, so I didn’t know what to wear.”
“Your choice is perfect,” he says as his hand slides from my waist to palm my arse. “Let me have a quick shower and change before we go.”
“Okay. ”
I’m grateful for a moment of reprieve. It will give me a chance to ingest the epiphany I just had. I love him. Holy shit. When did that happen?
I knew I was attracted to him, maybe more than attracted, but I didn’t see this coming so soon. I sit down on one of his couches and place my head in my hands. That’s where he finds me when he exits his bedroom sometime later. He’s showered and dressed in a dark-green sweater and jeans, and I want to gobble him up.
I watch him approach, and when he stops right in front of me, he looks down with a frown and asks, “Is everything okay?”
I leap to my feet and grasp hold of his arm. “I think I’m falling in love with you too,” I blurt out.
“You think?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.
“I mean … I’m pretty positive. Like maybe ninety-five percent. Give or take. My head has been spinning all day after last night when you made love to me. You did make love to me, right? Because holy crap, it felt like you did. It almost brought me to tears.” His eyebrow rises a little higher at my verbal diarrhoea. “I didn’t actually cry or anything, but I felt really emotional afterwards. You know … my heart was all heavy and stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it. I truly did, so don’t think I didn’t. It was just …”
He rolls his lips to hide his smile, and I feel my cheeks heat. “Sweetheart,” he says, cupping my face in his hands. “Breathe.” I do what he instructs, inhaling a large breath into my lungs. “Better?”
I nod. “A little, but I’m still kind of freaking out.”
“Delilah,” he says, taking a seat on the couch and pulling me down onto his lap. “You were engaged to be married earlier this year. This is nothing new … you’ve been in love before. ”
“What I felt for him in the four years we were together pales in comparison to what I feel for you,” I admit.
“It does?” he probes as a full smile graces his handsome face, and poof , my ovaries explode.
Although he’s smiling, his eyes are almost pleading for what I’m saying to be true. My hand reaches up to cup his jaw. “Yes.”
“Delilah,” he whispers as he leans in to mesh his lips with mine. The kiss that follows is so devastatingly beautiful it has my toes curling in my boots.
I feel him hardening against the side of my leg and we are probably going to miss dinner if this goes any further. Thankfully, his restraint is stronger than mine. After abruptly pulling out of the kiss, I find myself plucked off his lap and back on my feet. He adjusts himself in his jeans as he stands.
“We’re going to be late … we’ll continue this when we get home.”
I look up at him and grin as he reaches for my hand. “I look forward to it.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second, you little minx.”
“Where are we heading?” I ask when we step into the elevator. “Or are we just winging it?”
“You know me better than that,” he replies. “I don’t wing anything.”
“Right,” I say, grinning.
“There is nothing wrong with structure, Delilah.”
I lift one shoulder. “I’m still young and carefree, but a well-thought-out life is probably necessary at your age.”
I’m suddenly lifted off my feet and flung over his shoulder. I squeal—and the sound echoes in the confined space—then his hand comes down hard on my arse. “I’ve about reached my limit with your old man jokes, Miss St. James.”
“Put me down,” I shriek through my laughter as I flail around in his hold.
“Are you going to behave yourself if I do?” he asks as he exits the lift and crosses the underground car park in long strides.
“Yes.”
He comes to a sudden stop, sliding my body down his until I’m back on my feet. “Age is just a number,” he says.
“I know.”
“Are we going to have an issue with our age gap moving forward? Maybe we need to hash this out before we fall deeper.”
“I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you?” I counter.
“You can’t answer a question with a question.”
“I’ve made peace with it,” I say truthfully. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that I’ve never seen before, so I grasp the hem of his sweater and add, “Nothing about what we are doing feels perverse or wrong. Everything about you … about this, feels right. Like I’m exactly where I should be.”
“I feel the same. I still remember how annoyed I was at my mother when she called me at 5 am, on my only day off, to chew me out about your status on Facebook. When I told you to leave that post up, I thought that would be the end of it. You’d get some form of revenge against your sister for stealing your fiancé, and I’d move on with my life. Yet here we are.”
“Do you ever wonder if it was fate? Like the universe was working its magic.”
He chuckles as he reaches up to run his knuckles down the side of my cheek. “I don’t know if I believe in divine intervention, but I know one thing … not a day passes that I’m not grateful to have you in my life.”
A knot forms in my throat as his hand moves from my face to my shoulders. I’m confused when he turns me around because my back is now facing his front. That feeling only lasts a split second because I soon notice the sleek, shiny black convertible BMW with an enormous red bow on the bonnet, sitting in the car space where my Mazda was parked.
I spin around and point my finger in his face. “I swear to God, if my car is now sitting in a scrap yard, crushed into a tiny cube, we are going to have issues.”
He barks out a laugh. “Relax, sweetheart. It’s at the mechanics getting a complete overhaul.”
“Oh.”
“I found a local charity called Cars for Cause. They donate vehicles to families in need as a way of helping them find their feet.”
“Oh,” I repeat. “I just spent all my savings getting it registered.”
“If you don’t want to donate it, you can sell it once it’s roadworthy, and keep the money.”
“I like your idea better, but it was already roadworthy … it wouldn’t have passed registration if it wasn’t.”
“Hmm,” is his only reply as he pulls a key fob out of the pocket of his jeans and hands it to me. “The keys to your new car.”
“I can’t accept it,” I say, pushing his outstretched hand back towards him. “It would take me the rest of my life to pay you back.”
“It’s a gift, Delilah. I’m not asking for reimbursement.”
“Spencer. ”
“Please,” he pleads. “It will give me peace of mind knowing you’re safe.”
“Is this why you left work early?”
“Partly. I spent the afternoon getting rid of two liabilities. That death trap that you were driving, and my father.”
My eyes widen. “Your father?”
“I bought him out of the company. The handover was today. I’m now the sole owner of Prescott Enterprises.”
“Wow.”
“You were the catalyst.”
“Me?”
“Yes, he’ll no longer be able to bother you, or any of my female employees again.”
Spencer tried to get me to drive the BMW to dinner, but there was no way I was getting behind the wheel of a brand-new car while trying to manoeuvre us safely through what can only be described as hellish city traffic. Especially at this time of night. I grew up in the less congested suburbs, so that would have been an accident waiting to happen.
“Since you claim not to wing things, can I ask where we’re having dinner?”
“My mother’s.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry, she has her chef cooking for us.”
“That’s good to know. The last time she was at our apartment and wanted to help me prepare dinner, I gave her a potato peeler and she looked at it like it was a foreign object. ”
He looks over at me and smiles. “I like that you referred to the apartment as ours.”
“I meant yours.”
“What’s mine is yours, Delilah.”
I shift around in my seat because the topic of our conversation is making me uncomfortable. “Can we change the subject? And for the record, I’m not interested in your money, Spencer.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckles. “I recently found out that my father’s new wife is expecting. I want to be the one who breaks the news to my mother before the media gets wind of it.”
“How do you think she’ll take it?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.” His eyes briefly leave the road to meet mine. “If things don’t go well, would you mind if I told her about us? That might help soften the blow.”
A small smile tugs at my lips as I imagine her reaction. “I’m okay with that.” She’s going to find out eventually anyway. “You know she’s going to put pressure on us to get married and give her grandbabies.”
The look of horror he gives me in return makes me laugh. “Please don’t tell me you’d be on board with that.”
“God no. We’ve only been dating for five minutes.”
“It’s been longer than five minutes,” he growls as he reaches for my hand and brings it to his mouth. “I’m not opposed to that in the future, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I have a girlfriend. I haven’t been in a committed relationship since college.”
“Wow. That long. How many decades ago was that?”
“One, smartarse. I haven’t exactly been celibate during that time, but in my defence, I’ve been busy running an empire.”
I turn my face to stare out the window. His prior conquests are another subject I’m not comfortable talking about. We all have pasts, and I can’t be jealous of the things he did with others before knowing me, but I still don’t want to hear about them. You’ve only got to look at him to know he’s had hordes of women beating down his door for a chance to be with him.
Does that worry me, given what I now know about Kayne?
Kind of.