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I was not, and never had been, the person to lose time thinking of a woman once I’d enjoyed her. Maybe it made me a shit stain, but my life had suited me to the ground so far, so I wasn’t sorry for it. I wasn’t exactly the type to get chained down to any woman, physically or mentally. Period. That was exhausting to even think about. I still had no idea how my closest friends handed over their freedoms to their wives as they’d done.
Alex, Jim, and I had all run together at Oxford, and not one of us had a lasting relationship the whole time we were there. So, no one was more surprised than I was when I’d gotten the news about Jim and Avery, but like everyone else, I figured that hell would freeze over before Alex got tied down. He’d always been the first to say that his Johnny Depp-lookalike ass was incapable of loving a woman, and then Bree walked her dimpled smile into his life, and his determination to never be able to love another had gone up in smoke.
A consequence of Bree and Alex’s relationship that I couldn’t decide was unfortunate or not was Natalia’s presence in my life, which had become more or less constant. I’d been prepared to write off our first interaction as an unfortunate blip in two active sex lives and was willing to put it behind me. That was until I discovered that Bree, Alex’s business partner at the time, had become his life partner and that her best friend was the woman I still winced about when I thought of my most cringeworthy sexual experiences.
Once I started seeing Nat consistently, the thought entered my head unfailingly that I needed to make the last time up to her if only she would look at me longer than a second at a time. But if ever there was something to know about Natalia Hoover, it was that once she decided you were a waste of her time, you might as well consider yourself written off. She wasn’t one to waste her precious, limited time.
That was partially why this whole thing sent me into such a tailspin. That and the fact that I’d had her in my bed all weekend—and my shower, and on my couch, and my kitchen island, where I’d licked a series of things off of her body, including peanut butter and chocolate ice cream.
Pull yourself together, I told myself sternly as I reached my hands up and ran them through my hair, practically pulling it up straight. It’s not like you haven’t spent a weekend fucking the occasional girl here or there before.
My phone buzzed, and I looked down to see that a text had come through from Jim with two screenshots of emails from Wendy Lieden that made me roll my eyes.
I needed this to get my mind off fantasizing about sex with that woman. Shit, if I weren’t careful, I’d be chained to Nat mentally and totally fucked. I knew better than this. If I got caught up with her and lost focus of my job, I’d resent her for it. I was not known for breaking hearts because I enjoyed doing it; it was just a part of the cold-hearted bastard I was.
Jim: I’m confused about why Wendy Lieden is still sending me emails without Cc’ing you. Especially regarding things that directly have to do with your expertise.
I groaned audibly as I leaned back in my chair, bringing my hand to my chin and scratching along the slight line of scruff that had begun to grow over the weekend.
I reread Jim’s text and then responded.
Spencer: Not sure why I’m not on the email string, but whatever the reason, I’ll take care of it. I may just handle this shit in London instead of playing these stupid fucking games.
Jim: I’d rather you stay stateside, so I have you on the other deals that I’m not too confident about.
Spencer: You’ll survive without me. Put Sophie on it if anything goes sideways. She’s got enough spirit to keep things in check until I get back.
Jim: I guess that’ll have to do. I hate to admit it, but sometimes I want the bulldozer around.
Spencer: Stop acting like a bitch.
I chuckled and leaned back on my chair, setting my feet up on the desk as I rubbed my hands over my face. The day wasn’t going horribly, but I didn’t have everything as under control as I liked to believe that I did.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I opened my eyes again, wondering who was calling my cell phone in the middle of the workday. Taking my hand away from my eyes, I reached for it, figuring it would likely be Jim having the last word since I’d just teased his ass by calling him a bitch.
It wasn’t. Shit, what the fuck manifested this phone call?
I cleared my throat before swiping my thumb across the bottom of the screen and raising the phone to my ear. “Hey, Stephen.”
“Spence. How are you?”
My brother’s smooth Oxbridge accent came down the line, colored with the slight hints of our childhood in Italy.
“I’m fine. I’m just at work. Where are you in the world right now, Steve?”
“Provence. Nadia and I decided to take a short, pre-wedding trip before heading to Sirmione.”
“Right. The wedding.” I kept the secondary groan inside this time, trying to make sure my brother didn’t get any sense that I’d forgotten that he was getting married.
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
“I forget nothing. Besides, the reminder is glaringly right in front of me on my computer’s calendar,” I said, which was true. I had added this date to my calendar when my brother told me he was marrying Nadia, whom I’d gotten along with every time I’d met her. I was excited for the two of them; they seemed perfect for each other. I was also thrilled to see my sister and her daughter, both of whom I adored; however, visiting my family estate in Sirmione was a bitter-sweet thought in my mind, and for good reason. The ghosts of my past were there and going to this wedding meant I had to face them. Something that, if I could find a good enough excuse, I’d definitely not choose to do.
“Spence, we’re going to be doing a fitting in Milan for the suits the week before, so if you can be there three weeks before the day of the wedding, that would be ideal.”
Fuck my life. This day was coming a lot sooner than later. My heart started to race as if I were a kid again, and my mother called my boarding school for a spontaneous visit home without telling me.
