Mr Spencer (Mr. 2)

He crooks his finger again, and I find myself biting my bottom lip and dropping my head to hide my smile.

“Would you like a drink, Charlotte?” my brother asks.

“Please.” I smile as I concentrate on not looking Mr Spencer’s way again.

My father falls into conversation with a man who walks past, and I glance around nervously. I’m not sure whether to go and talk to Mr Spencer or not. No, that’s a bad idea. Perhaps I’ll go and get some fresh air instead.

“I’m heading to the ladies,” I whisper to my father.

“All right, love.” He smiles as I put my hand on his shoulder. I walk through the ballroom and out onto the back terrace and down the steps. Fairy lights are strewn across the garden giving it a romantic feel. Waiters are circling the garden with trays of fancy cocktails and champagne. This wedding has been amazing, and the attention to detail has been impeccable. Every detail is perfect. I walk along the pathway down to the outdoor bathrooms. Once there, I head inside and close the door behind me.

Peace at last.

I can hear the music in the distance as I stare at my reflection in the mirror and reapply my fuchsia lipstick. My thick shoulder-length blonde hair is down and pulled back on one side behind my ear. My pink strapless dress fits perfectly and clings to my curves. I roll my lips as I stare at my reflection. Eventually, I exhale heavily and snap my lipstick back into my silver clutch.

Most eligible bachelor in London, an appalling rake.

Great. The first man I’ve been attracted to in forever and he’s a womaniser. Typical.

For once, I would like to meet an honourable man who is actually appealing.

Why does it have to be one or the other? Who made this god forsaken rule that any man who is a tad interesting must be a player? And why are all the good men as boring as hell? God must definitely be a man.

With one last look at myself, I head back out into the garden and make my way up the path towards the party.

“Charlotte,” a deep voice calls from behind me.

I turn and falter, taken aback. It’s him.

It’s Mr Spencer.

He smiles sexily and his eyes hold mine. “Hello.”

My heart rate spikes. “H-hi.” I smile nervously.

He steps towards me and takes my hand in his, and I inhale sharply. He holds my hand up in the air and nods, as if bowing. “Forgive me for following you, but I had to come and meet the most beautiful woman in the room tonight.” He kisses the back of my hand tenderly, and I raise my brows. “My name is Spencer.” He smiles against my skin.

Oh, he’s really quite…

I pull my hand away sharply. “I know who you are, Mr Spencer.”

He smirks, and his mischievous eyes hold mine. “You do?

” he asks smoothly with a raise of his brow.

I clasp my hands nervously in front of me. “Your reputation precedes you.”

His smirk breaks out into a broad smile. “Ah, you can’t believe everything you hear, now, can you?”

His voice is deep and permeating. It somehow sinks into my bones when he speaks.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask. What the hell does he want?

“I hope so.” He smiles and picks up my hand again. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

I swallow nervously, and he smiles and drops his lips to the back of my hand to kiss me softly. His sexy eyes stay fixed on mine.

Okay, hell… he’s good. Really good.