Mr Spencer (Mr. 2)

“No, Edward and he don’t get on. Edward hates William’s wife.”

“Oh.” He frowns. “And your mother?”

My heart drops, and before I am able to put on my brave face, my eyes fill with tears. “My mother was killed in a car accident five years ago.”

His face falls.

“I miss her dearly.”

He reaches over the table and takes my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” I squeeze his hand, a silent thank you for being kind.

“Good Lord,” he mutters almost to himself as he sits back in his seat. “I came here to try and woo you, and all I have done is make you talk about morbid things and told you I am a womanising cad who can’t be trusted. My A game is most definitely slipping.”

I chuckle and pick up my wine. “A very sweet cad, though.”

Our eyes lock again, and the air swirls between us. He smiles softly. “You are more beautiful than I remembered, Charlotte. I’m glad I came.”

“So am I,” I breathe.

We eat our dinner and enjoy a dessert. I find myself genuinely surprised at how easily we get along. He’s funny, witty, and not at all like I imagined.

“Sir, just to let you know the bar is closing soon. Would you like anything else?” the waiter asks.

Spencer and I look up in surprise. Where has the night gone? It feels like we just got here.

“No, we’ll be leaving soon,” Spencer answers.

We finish our drinks, and he pays the bill. Then he takes my hand as we walk out onto the road. I see Wyatt in the car and guilt suddenly fills me. I’ve never made him wait for me while I had a date before.

At least my father and Edward are away in London at a work function tonight and aren’t home.

“Where is your house?” Spencer asks as we walk up the road. He presses a button on his keys and the headlights to a sporty looking black Maserati light up.

“Just out of town.” I smile as we arrive at the extremely low vehicle. “This is your car?”

“Yep.” He smiles cheekily.

“I should have known that you would own a poser car.”

He flashes me one of those beautiful smiles and opens my car door. I feel myself melt.

“Yeah, because the Bentley you drive around in is so understated,” he hits back dryly.

I giggle as I slide into my seat. “That’s not my car, it’s my father’s.”

Spencer starts the car and pulls out onto the road.

“What do you drive then?” he asks with interest.

I bite my bottom lip and hesitate.

He casts a quick glance my way. “Your security guard drives you around all the time in that black Mercedes wagon, doesn’t he?”

I shrug, embarrassed. “Sort of.”

He frowns and bites his thumbnail as he thinks, his eyes stay fixed on the road. “How do you stand it?”