He whipped his cell from his jacket’s inside pocket, dialed and held the phone to his ear.
“Pembrook? Sorry to wake you. Yes, as we’ve discussed,” he said and hung up.
My parents left my room abruptly and shut the door behind them. My hand trembled from my cheek and fell into my lap. I tried not to think what the subject of conversation had been, tried not to take my dad’s accusation that I was a whore to heart, regardless how true it was, tried not to think too much into the fact that my mother let him accuse me without so much as a peep from his side.
I stood and slinked out of my Chanel, letting the garment fall into a heap at my feet. I slept in my underwear and bra, uncaring of anything around me. It’s easier to pretend. So much easier.
In the morning, I showered and forewent breakfast, something I did often as I rarely ate. A girl has to keep her figure. I’d planned on visiting Sav, to get away from my tension-filled home, but when I approached the carriage house, my SLS was gone.
“What the hell?” I asked no one. I searched the entire garage, but it was nowhere. Ah, I see. He thinks to punish me.
I took out my cell and rang Sav, but it went straight to voicemail.
“Fine, you don’t feel like answering, you piggish trout?”
I dialed Spencer and he picked up the first ring.
“La fée?”
“What are you doing right now, love?”
“I’m taking you out, I hope?”
“You’ve read my mind,” I flirted back. “Pick me up at my place in, say, an hour?”
“Right.”
I hung up and went straight to my room to pack a bag. I wouldn’t need much. I planned on spending most of my time warm in Spencer’s bed.
Spencer was right on time just as I expected as no one kept me waiting, ever. On my way out the door, Sav rang me.
“Sav,” I spit out.
“I’m so sorry, Sophie. I—”
“Save it, Sav. I’ve no need of you. Goodbye.”
I hung up.
Spencer leaned casually against the passenger side door and looked incredible. Just under six foot. Spencer’s wardrobe spoke trust fund but his face screamed of how handsomely rugged he was, not at all babied-looking and I appreciated that about him. His face would be screaming something else within the hour if I had anything to do with it.
I’d just hit the last of the steps when he lifted his finely sculpted body and sauntered my direction.
“Hello, beautiful,” he whispered into my ear when I reached him. He yanked me by the waist toward him and lightly kissed my ear. “I was wondering when it would be my turn.”
My stomach clenched at the memory of my father’s words, but I stuffed them back down.
“Seems you were a fine wine, Spence. You only needed aging.”
He grabbed my bag and opened the door for me. I settled inside, wrapping my seat belt around myself just as Spencer joined me after placing my bag in the trunk.
“I have to crash for a few days,” I told him, examining myself in the vanity mirror.
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, smiling at me.
His teeth were white and perfectly straight. He was equally as flawless as I was.
He started the engine and it purred like a kitten, but I’d heard Aston Martins did that.
“Why?” he asked.
“Well, after Sav’s party—,” I said, but there was no need to finish.
“Ah, well, I might have a few things in mind to pass the time,” he flirted. “I was going to meet Brent for lunch, but I can reschedule if you don’t feel like it.”
I definitely didn’t feel like it. Anyone else and I would have agreed.
“No, Spencer. We’ll be too busy to lunch with Brent,” I teased.
Spencer’s home was modern in architecture but equally palatial to my parents’. The entire home seemed to consist of nothing but windows and never-ending levels. I almost felt sorry for his staff, almost.
We parked in his space and he killed the engine. He leaned over and placed his hand high on my thigh. A rush trilled through me at how hot his hand was. “Good news. My parents left this morning for Africa on holiday.”
I rolled my eyes. “How cliché.”
“Tell me about it.”
He got out of the car and came over to my side, opening the door for me. He kissed me suddenly and my stomach dropped in hesitation for a moment like it always does but as always, I worked through it and put up my barrier. The same barrier that allowed me to what I did with all the boys.
He broke the kiss and grabbed my hand then retrieved my bag. “Who goes to Africa anymore?” I asked him as we ascended the steep and sharply staired walkway.
“My parents?”
We both laughed.
“I gave the staff the day off today,” he mentioned absently when we reached the top, dropping my hand and bag to fish his keys from his pocket.
When the door opened he threw my bag over the threshold. He kissed me on the doorstep and we went toppling toward the white plastered exterior of his doorway. We hit the wall hard and my head reverberated slightly from the force. Ow. “Sorry,” he murmured, but continued to kiss me. I worked through the pain and kissed him fiercely in return.
He wrapped one big arm around my waist and lifted me from my feet, continually kissing me. He walked us into the foyer and slammed the door shut with his foot. He began unbuttoning my shirt and tugging it out of my skirt, never breaking contact. He tossed it behind me. My arms felt heavy and my heart felt a mess. It’s not working! Why isn’t this working?