Mr Spencer (Mr. 2)

“The man’s a snake and there is no love lost between us.” I stand from my chair and walk over to the window, placing my hands into my trouser pockets before I turn back to him. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

“Alexander is not my concern, Mr Jones.”

“Please, call me Spencer.”

“Spencer.” He nods once.

“What exactly is your concern?” I ask. “Why are you here?”

“Charlotte.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And why is she a concern to you?”

“She is not the kind of woman you are… accustomed to.”

I smile. “Is that what York told you? Ah, he said that I’m a scandalous rake and that I can’t be trusted anywhere near your sister, didn’t he?”

We glare at each other for a moment.

“Have you contacted her since you met?” he asks me boldly.

I smile. The fucking nerve of this guy.

“Let me tell you this, Mr Prescott.” I exhale heavily. “If I were to contact Charlotte at any point, it is none of your damn business, only mine and hers.”

“The hell it isn’t my business.” He jumps up from his seat and moves to stand in front of me. “My job is to protect her from men like you.”

“I thought your job as her brother would be to love her?”

He raises his chin in defiance, unimpressed with that hidden accusation I planted there. “I protect her from everything. Sleazy arseholes like you being one of the more specific threats.”

“Is that what you think I am?”

He steps forward until our faces are close. “Stay away from my sister, Mr Jones.”

I glare at him. “Or what?”

“Or you’ll deal with me.”

“Do you really think that you could keep me away from her, if she was truly who I wanted?”

“Is she?”

I smirk. “I will not discuss my intentions with you, but I will say that you underestimate her greatly. She is intelligent and old enough to make her own decisions.”

“She is not accustomed to men like you.”

“And what kind of man would you have her go out with?” I fire back. “Alexander York, perhaps?” I smirk. “I’m quite sure he would love to be a part of the Prescott family.”

His face falls before he quickly masks it. “Don’t be ridiculous, he’s a friend to her.”

“Does he know that?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. “Have you seen him with her?”

The best form of defence is attack. I’m going to throw him off the scent.

“Maybe you should ask Charlotte about Charlotte and stop jumping to ridiculous assumptions. Have you really driven all the way from Manchester to London, just to see me?”

Satisfaction flashes across his face, and that’s when I know he’s just fallen for my fake ignorance of his family. If I knew her well—which he doesn’t need to know I do… not yet—I would know Manchester isn’t where they live, or where he has just travelled thousands of miles from.