Mr Spencer (Mr. 2)

“Anthony and Wyatt, you work for me now,” I tell them breathlessly. “You guard Charlotte for me. To hell with this Prescott bullshit. They can stick their precious money up their arses.”

Harold’s face falls.

“Let me tell you this,” I say. “I’m in love with Charlotte. I’m marrying Charlotte, with or without your permission. Get used to it.”

I turn and take Charlotte’s hand. “We’re leaving.”

“Spencer,” she whispers.

“Now,” I growl.

“Don’t you fucking go anywhere with him, Charlotte,” Edward hisses. “I’m warning you.”

I turn to Edward and point at him. “Don’t you dare warn her. Nobody speaks to her like that. Do you fucking hear me? If you upset her or disrespect her in any way, I will come here and personally knock you the fuck out.”

Edward’s eyes blaze with anger.

I turn to Harold and nod. “Mr Prescott, you are welcome in my home anytime. I’m sorry that tonight didn’t go as well as Charlotte and I had hoped it would.”

“Goodbye.” I take Charlotte’s hand and lead her outside. Harold follows us. “Don’t go,” he begs her softly.

Charlotte wraps her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, Dad, I have to.”

I shake his hand. “I will hopefully see you soon.”

He drops his eyes to the ground, unable to make eye contact with me.

I lead Charlotte out and open her car door for her. She hesitates and looks up at her father on the porch, silently begging him to accept me.

“Let’s go, angel.” I put her in the car and then drive out the gates, unable to miss the way her eyes fill with tears.

I run my hand through my hair when I see Wyatt and Anthony pull out behind me onto the road. My heart is beating so hard in my chest.

What a fucking disaster.

I grip the steering wheel with white knuckle force. I can’t believe what just happened. Why the hell do they hate me so much when they don’t even know me? Fucking Alexander York is getting a visit tomorrow. What’s he told them about me?

Charlotte begins to cry, and my stomach drops. I instantly feel like shit.

“I’m sorry that didn’t go to plan, angel.” I reach over and take her hand in mine.

Her face screws up in tears as she watches me. “That’s it, isn’t it?” She begins to really cry. “I’ll never see them now, will I?” She sobs.

“What did you want me to do?”

“Be nice, Spencer. I wanted you to be nice. You said you were going to be nice.”

“I was fucking nice. I should have knocked him out, that’s what I should have done.”

She throws up her hands in despair and begins to wail.

I roll my eyes as I drag my hand down my face. Great. Just fucking great.

* * *

Two very silence-filled hours later, and I pull into the Four Seasons. I hand the car keys to the valet. Charlotte wanted to sleep here tonight and not at my house.

She’s angry with me for fighting with them, but honestly, what was I supposed to do? What would any man do if he were under attack like that?