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“Well, that’s the thing: I don’t know anything for certain, but it’s left me feeling uneasy all week, so I thought I’d better let you know.”
A collection of images appear, and I scroll through each of them, reading the first headline.
Bad Romeo Caught with Three Women
in the Same Day.
I clench my jaw. “What happened?”
“That’s the thing, they seemed to know each other. They were familiar when talking, and then he was kissing her hand.”
“Kissing her?” I snap and sit forward in my chair. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
“Afraid not. I approached Spencer at the bar when she was out of her earshot and asked him what he was doing with Charlotte Prescott.”
I continue to scroll through the images of him with different women.
“What did he say?”
“He said, and I quote, Whatever the fuck I like.”
I narrow my eyes. “Do you know this guy?”
“Yes, and I fucking hate him. He’s a womanising cad who sleeps with every supermodel in town.”
“Who is he?” I Google his bio.
“He owns a successful steel manufacturing company… does all right for himself.”
“Why do you hate him?”
“The guy stole a girl off of me years ago and it escalated from there. I’ve had run-ins with his friends, too. He hangs out with Julian Masters and Sebastian Garcia.”
I narrow my eyes even farther. I know Julian Masters. Our fathers have done business together in the past. I saw him once at Madison’s when he was coming out of a suite. He didn’t see me, though. If he goes to Madison’s, Spencer would too.
“What happened at the ball?”
“Nothing while I was there. He talked to Charlotte, he and I had words, and then later in the night, my mother fell ill so I had to take her home an hour before it finished.”
“You left Charlotte there alone?” I frown.
“She was with my sister Mariella, and she knew everyone at our table. Her guards were there, too, of course. But here’s the thing, as soon as I left, she was back at the bar talking to Spencer Jones again.”
My fury begins to rise. “Did they leave together?”
“No, separately.” He pauses, as if he has something else to say.
“What?”
“Look, I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I called around to see her the next day unannounced and she was… half-dressed, and she most definitely did not want me in her apartment.”
I sit forward in my seat, glaring at the images of this Spencer Jones with what seems like every beautiful woman on the planet. “You think he was there with her?” I ask.
“No, but it was obvious she didn’t want me there.” He pauses. “I don’t know, it just felt off, man. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Hmm.”
“Anyway, it’s been eating at me ever since so I thought I should let you know. Spencer is the last fucking person that Charlotte should be associated with.”
