Vain (The Seven Deadly 1)

“You’ve read my mind,” I flirted back. “Pick me up at my place in, say, an hour?”

“Right.”

I hung up and went straight to my room to pack a bag. I wouldn’t need much. I planned on spending most of my time warm in Spencer’s bed.

Spencer was right on time just as I expected as no one kept me waiting, ever. On my way out the door, Sav rang me.

“Sav,” I spit out.

“I’m so sorry, Sophie. I—”

“Save it, Sav. I’ve no need of you. Goodbye.”

I hung up.

Spencer leaned casually against the passenger side door and looked incredible. Just under six foot. Spencer’s wardrobe spoke trust fund but his face screamed of how handsomely rugged he was, not at all babied-looking and I appreciated that about him. His face would be screaming something else within the hour if I had anything to do with it.

I’d just hit the last of the steps when he lifted his finely sculpted body and sauntered my direction.

“Hello, beautiful,” he whispered into my ear when I reached him. He yanked me by the waist toward him and lightly kissed my ear. “I was wondering when it would be my turn.”

My stomach clenched at the memory of my father’s words, but I stuffed them back down.

“Seems you were a fine wine, Spence. You only needed aging.”

He grabbed my bag and opened the door for me. I settled inside, wrapping my seat belt around myself just as Spencer joined me after placing my bag in the trunk.

“I have to crash for a few days,” I told him, examining myself in the vanity mirror.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, smiling at me.

His teeth were white and perfectly straight. He was equally as flawless as I was.

He started the engine and it purred like a kitten, but I’d heard Aston Martins did that.

“Why?” he asked.

“Well, after Sav’s party—,” I said, but there was no need to finish.

“Ah, well, I might have a few things in mind to pass the time,” he flirted. “I was going to meet Brent for lunch, but I can reschedule if you don’t feel like it.”

I definitely didn’t feel like it. Anyone else and I would have agreed.

“No, Spencer. We’ll be too busy to lunch with Brent,” I teased.

Spencer’s home was modern in architecture but equally palatial to my parents’. The entire home seemed to consist of nothing but windows and never-ending levels. I almost felt sorry for his staff, almost.

We parked in his space and he killed the engine. He leaned over and placed his hand high on my thigh. A rush trilled through me at how hot his hand was. “Good news. My parents left this morning for Africa on holiday.”

I rolled my eyes. “How cliché.”

“Tell me about it.”

He got out of the car and came over to my side, opening the door for me. He kissed me suddenly and my stomach dropped in hesitation for a moment like it always does but as always, I worked through it and put up my barrier. The same barrier that allowed me to what I did with all the boys.

He broke the kiss and grabbed my hand then retrieved my bag. “Who goes to Africa anymore?” I asked him as we ascended the steep and sharply staired walkway.

“My parents?”