Chapter 4 Spencer
FOUR
SPENCER
I wake slowly, aware first of the light filtering through the massive hotel windows, then of the distinct emptiness beside me.
Rhea’s gone.
I blink fully awake and sit up, already knowing I won’t find her in the bathroom or curled on the couch.
My mind flashes to last night.
The way she moved beneath me—confident, responsive, like our bodies already knew each other.
But also, the way she looked at me—not at my name, or my net worth, but at some part of me I sometimes forget even exists.
There’s a note. Folded once, resting neatly on the nightstand.
Spencer,
Thank you for the unforgettable evening—and for believing in our project. I still can’t quite believe I get to bring it to life.
If you ever feel like sharing little-known France travel tips, I’m all ears. And of course, if I ever need a book recommendation, I’ve got your number.
Avec toute ma reconnaissance,
Rhea
Short. Polite. Just enough warmth to keep me wondering if she felt what I did.
No number. Still, I know exactly where she works—thanks to the grant application.
I’m confident I can find her.
Which I plan to do.
And come to think of it, she does have my number.
Last night, somewhere between book recommendations and low-simmering flirtation, I’d grabbed a cocktail napkin and scribbled it down, sliding it across the table with a grin.
“In case your reading list needs refreshing again,” I’d said. “Feel free to reach out.”
She laughed. “Well, I’ll file this away in case I experience a reading list emergency.”
Then she made a show of tucking it into her purse.
My phone buzzes.
I pick it up—hoping, foolishly—
But no.
It’s my assistant. Gina.
“Morning,” I say, standing and moving toward the window.
“Good morning, Prince Charming,” she replies. “How was your evening?”
“It was… good,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Was it?” she says, dry as dust. “Because word on the ballroom floor is that after a certain grant recipient pretended to stumble and fall into you while walking up on stage, you disappeared with her well before midnight and were not heard from again until—well, just now.”
“Good lord, Gina.” I close my eyes and sigh. “Are you reading the social recap or reviewing surveillance footage?”
“I have my sources,” she says without apology. “One of whom used to brief senators, so she knows how to spot a power move.”
“Well, if she thinks that’s what she saw, she’s dead wrong.”
“Oh? Then what was it? A Cinderella moment? Are you trying to trigger your father? Or just accepting a more personalized and private thank you from the award winner?”
“None of the above,” I say.
She exhales—and the edge in her voice softens. When she speaks again, it’s quieter. Measured.
“Spencer, look, you’re entitled to have a life.
But let’s not pretend this would be the first time you blowing off a little steam turned into a PR migraine.
Remember the adorable blonde from the Equinox Foundation dinner?
The one who swore you’d made an after-banquet promise to fund her wellness startup? ”
I groan. “That was ages ago.”
“Exactly. And then there was the redhead from Atlanta who came back claiming you—”
“Gina,” I cut in. “This isn’t that. Rhea isn’t that kind of person.”
“Rhea?” she echoes, as if I shouldn’t be calling the woman I just slept with by her first name. “No offense, Spencer, but your judgment in the past suggests you’re not always great at spotting the difference between someone genuine and someone on the prowl for a good-looking meal ticket.”
I inhale slowly, then exhale.
“She’s smart,” I say. “Grounded. She didn’t ask for anything. She didn’t initiate. And she didn’t even leave her number. And she just earned a huge grant award.”
Gina pauses. I can tell she’s regrouping.
“Which, I might point out, is for the library system, not her personally. Regardless, is there anything you need me to handle? Press? Board members? Photos? Questionable optics?”
“No.”
“Any other forlorn maidens I should be aware of? Anyone who looked personally wounded when you left with the librarian?”
“No,” I say. “Geez. You make me sound like… No. Nothing. Nothing to clean up. Nobody to worry about.”
Then I add, “Honestly, I rather liked her. I wouldn't mind seeing her again.”
A beat of silence. Then her tone shifts back into drill-sergeant mode.
“Well, before you start chasing a book lady who probably lives in a one-bedroom apartment with ten cats and a pile of debt,” she says, “remember we’ve got to lock down the Merritt deal completely this week if there’s any chance of you jetting off on your Alpine biking fantasy.”
Gina’s a bulldog. Ruthless. Relentless. And exactly what I pay her for. She keeps my personal life out of my portfolio—and my portfolio out of the tabloids. And she’s why I’ll probably die alone.
“Oh, and don’t forget. Today, you’re going straight from the airport to the firm’s family appreciation picnic in Boston. Seraphina and Jaxson will meet you there.”
“Got it,” I say, already wondering how she ever convinced me that having my younger sister and nephew as my guests was a good idea.
But I know what she’s setting up before she even says it.
“And remember—we need some good shots of the three of you that can be captioned in ways that position you as a family man. Even if it is a somewhat borrowed family.”
“I remember. But let me say again, for the record, I think it’s over the top. And even deceptive.” I don’t try to hide my irritation.
“And I will say again—it’s a strategy.” She doesn’t try to hide her irritation, either. “A strategy that makes things easier for you and the board. Nobody wants their favorite billionaire CEO drawing too much attention to his life as a single playboy.”
She barely takes a breath before going on.
“No detours right now. No distractions. Nose to the grindstone, and then the Alps. You hold up your end of the bargain this week. I hold up mine for the next three, doing contortions to keep anyone or anything from interfering with your trip.”
“Got it,” I say, feeling the weight of life with both a real mother and a workplace mother. Exhausting.
I hang up and glance again at the note from Rhea, then tuck it into my computer bag.
Avec toute ma reconnaissance,
I know how to interpret the French: with all my appreciation.
I’m just not sure how to interpret the meaning.