Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 156029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
“You ready?” Spencer asks.
I look up to see him dressed in a navy suit, white shirt, and a tie.
“You’re wearing a suit?” I ask.
He smooths his tie and shoves his hand into his pocket. “I feel more comfortable in a suit.”
My heart drops. What he means is that he feels more equipped to fight in a suit. “You said you didn’t want to fight with them?”
“And I don’t.”
“So why are you wearing a suit?”
“I’m not taking any shit tonight, Charlotte.”
“They’re my family, Spence.”
“I know that. But they need to know that you’re my future and you won’t be kept from me. I won’t stand for it.”
“Promise me you won’t fight with them.”
He picks up his keys. “Let’s go.”
“Spencer, promise me.”
His eyes meet mine. “I can’t do that. Let’s go.” Without another word, he walks towards the front door. I stare at the kitchen counter for a moment with my heart hammering hard in my chest.
Please let this go well.
* * *
Two hours later, we pull up at the large stone gates of my father’s estate, and Spencer punches in the security code. It was so long ago that he was here. How on earth does he even remember it? Wyatt and Anthony are in the car behind us, and I know they are feeling my nerves right along with me.
Their heads are about to roll, too.
The gates slowly open. “Main house?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Yes.” I nod and stare down at my hands in my lap. We’ve said two words to each other on the whole trip here. Actually, we’ve said five. He asked me if I needed the bathroom when he stopped for petrol. It’s like he was already angry before he even got here.
I have a bad feeling about this. “Just let me do the talking,” I say.
Spencer’s jaw clenches as he looks through the windshield.
I watch him. “Spence? Did you hear me?”
“Yeah, I heard you. I didn’t agree with you, that’s all.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t fight with them. In time, they’ll calm down and be reasonable. If you fight with them tonight, you’ll start a war and I’ll be so mad with you.”
His tongue comes out and trails over his bottom lip.
He’s arrogance personified.
“I mean it, Spence. Please, for me. Don’t fight with them.”
He reaches over and picks up my hand to kiss my fingertips, his eyes still glued to the road.
“Why aren’t you answering me?”
“Because I’m not promising you anything.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, let’s turn around and go home then. I don’t even want to go in if you have this attitude. This is my family, of course they are worried. How do you expect them to react to these magazine stories?” I snap. “I’m not exactly thrilled about them myself.”
He tilts his chin to the sky in defiance and gives a subtle shake of his head.
“What?” I snap.
“And there it is. You haven’t even seen them yet and already you’re beginning to side with them.”
“I’m not,” I snap angrily.
He smirks. “Whatever you say.” He pulls in and parks the car. My heart begins to thump hard in my chest. I grab his hand and look over at him as panic begins to set in. Is he right? Are they going to change the way I see this?
“I love you,” I whisper.
His dark eyes hold mine. “Prove it.” He gets out of the car and slams the door. I close my eyes.
Fuck.
Spencer
I open Charlotte’s car door and nearly rip the damn thing from its hinges.
I’m fucking furious.
Get your fucking arse back to Nottingham.
Nobody gets to speak to Charlotte like that.
Nobody.
I take her hand and drop my head. I can hardly look her in the eye.
“No fighting,” she whispers again. I glance over to Wyatt and Anthony who are parking in the bay beside us.
I inhale through my nose to try and calm myself as Charlotte walks up to the front door and slowly opens it.
“Hello!” she calls. “I’m home.”
“Darling.” I hear a man’s voice greet her. “Edward, Lottie’s home.” The man comes around the corner, and the second he sees me, his face falls. He’s an older man, obviously her father. He’s good looking, too—distinguished and wreaking of money.
Charlotte looks between us. “Dad, this is Spencer,” she whispers nervously.
I nod. “Hello.” I force a smile and put my hand out. “Spencer Jones.”
He shakes my hand, his face expressionless. “I know who you are,” he replies flatly. “Harold Prescott.”
We stare at each other.
“Dad,” Charlotte whispers. “I want to speak to you alone, please.”
“Not now, Charlotte.”
From out in the hall, I hear someone say, “What the hell is going on, Charlotte? Have you seen the headlines?” Edward appears from around the corner, and just like his father before him, his face falls when he sees me. “What the hell are you doing here?” he snaps.