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I glare at the computer screen with a sarcastic smile plastered on his face.
“I can see that.” I inhale sharply. “Don’t mention this to father or anyone else.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll check it out, thank you. You’re a good friend.” I hang up and sit back in my chair, studying the Playboy in front of me.
“Over my dead body will you get your hands on her,” I whisper. “Over my dead body.”
Charlotte
I wake with a start, and I can tell by the light of the room that it’s now early morning. I get out of bed, go to the bathroom, and tiptoe down the hall.
My man didn’t come and get into bed with me when he’d cooled down like I thought he would. I’ve been thinking about it all night, and Spencer is right… I should have asked him before I jumped to conclusions. But he should have told me she came to him, and he was being deceitful when he hid the key from me. We’re both in the wrong here and I won’t take all the blame.
I open the bedroom door and my shoulders slump. The crumpled up bed is empty.
He must have just left, although he normally leaves at 5:30 a.m.
Great.
I head downstairs and make myself a cup of tea, then I sit at the kitchen counter as I drink in silence.
What the hell do I do now?
Damn this, I’m not spending the day worrying.
I take out my phone and dial his number.
“Hello,” he answers in a clipped tone.
“Hi.” I smile nervously. “Why didn’t you wake me up before you left?”
“What’s the point?”
“Spence,” I sigh. “What did you expect me to think?”
“Exactly what you did.” He pauses. “I am my father’s son, after all.”
My heart drops. “Stop it and come back home. We’ll work it out.”
“I can’t, I have to work.”
I close my eyes. Damn it, why did I fly off the handle before talking to him?
“Will I see you tonight?”
“I’m busy.”
I frown.
“See you later.” He hangs up.
* * *
Five hours to stew on something is a long time. I sort through the mail on the table like a zombie, my mind with Spencer and how he doesn’t think he’ll see me tonight.
He said that he loved me.
