Mr Spencer (Mr. 2)

I feel my back molars nearly crack from me clenching my jaw so hard.

“I remembered it this morning on my way to work.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I panicked, Charlotte. I didn’t want you to find it and think the wrong thing.”

I roll my eyes in disgust. Likely story.

“I came back here today, got it, and I threw it in the bin.”

I fly out of bed like a madwoman. “Of course you did.” I storm to the door. “Right after you fucked her.”

“Charlotte, I promise you, I haven’t been with Sheridan.”

I stare at him through my tears.

“I was at a work dinner. I have clients who have flown in from China.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she came to you?” I cry.

“Because she doesn’t fucking matter to me!” he yells back.

My face screws up in tears. “Do you love her?” I sob.

“No, I fucking love you.” He shakes his head. “And I have no idea how that’s even possible. I’ve known you for five fucking minutes.”

I stare at him, lost for words.

“People who love each other don’t tell lies, Spencer.”

I turn away and storm downstairs. I can’t be near him right now. I have no idea what to believe.

“What about you?” he calls from the top step. “You haven’t told me one fucking lie since we’ve been together?”

I turn to him sharply. “Never! I have not lied to you once. Not once.”

“Bull-fucking-shit.” He charges down the stairs and grabs my arm, dragging me out of the front door and into the corridor near the elevator. “Look in the bin.”

“What?”

“Look in the fucking bin. I threw the key in there this morning on my way out of the apartment.” He picks up the bin in the corridor and tips it upside down like a crazy person. The lid flies off, and a lone hotel key card falls out onto the carpet. “Check the security footage from Mr Wong’s in Chinatown, you fucking know it all. I was there until twenty minutes ago.”

With that, he turns and storms back into the apartment, leaving me to stand still as my heart beats hard in my chest.

I close my eyes, instantly full of regret.

Shit.

I walk back inside the apartment to find him marching up the stairs.

I follow him carefully and quietly.

He’s furious, raging like a bull. He storms into the wardrobe and begins throwing his stuff onto the bed like a madman.

I fold my arms over my chest. “What did you expect me to think?” I snap. “I find a key in the morning then I come home and find it’s gone. Then you’ve conveniently had something on all of a sudden and won’t be coming over.”

“While we’re talking about lies… I want to know yours.” He sneers.

I wither. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are pissing me off, Charlotte Prescott,” he growls. “Get out of my fucking face before I lose my shi