The Stranger, page 12
Is Delilah cooking?
I open the front door and immediately pause on the threshold when I see my new temporary houseguest in the kitchen.
Her back is to me and she’s on the tip of her toes as she reaches up to the upper cabinet that holds the wine glasses. I take a second to admire her as my gaze peruses down the length of her tight little body. A strangled groan rumbles in the back of my throat when my eyes reach her jean shorts.
Fuck me, those shapely legs of hers have my mind going straight to the gutter. If I’m not careful, this woman is going to be my undoing.
I need to enforce a dress code for her when I’m home, which may sound ridiculous, but I think it’s needed. Something nun-like. Especially if I’m going to avoid a redo of my shower escapade the other night. Even unknowingly, she had me jacking off to images of her. I’m already hanging by a thread as it is. The last thing I need is encouragement from her, even if it’s unintentional. Her mere presence is enough.
Snapping out of my lust-induced haze, I place my briefcase down and stalk across the room.
“Here, let me,” I offer, stepping up behind her. I’m careful to make sure my body does not come into contact with hers as I grab what she needs.
“Thank you,” she says with a sweet smile as she glances up at me from over her shoulder. Even though there is no part of us touching, she’s too damn close … and that intoxicating scent of her shampoo is now invading all my senses.
I place the glass down on the countertop, heavier than I intended, and take a step back, followed closely by another. “Can you get me another one, please? I need two.”
“Sure,” I grumble.
“You seem extra growly this evening … is everything okay?”
“I’m not growly,” I state. “It’s just been a long day.”
“Good thing I was about to pour you one of these then,” she says, reaching for the bottle of wine and filling the glass. Her pretty blue eyes sparkle when she extends her hand to me. I hate how much I love seeing her in my space.
I bring the glass to my lips and take a large gulp.
“Better? she asks.
I grunt in reply. I may need the entire bottle once I confess what I’ve done, and disclose the secrets I’ve uncovered.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she says, rounding me and moving over to the stovetop.
I arch an eyebrow. “You’ve cooked?”
“I did … don’t look so shocked. I’m not just a pretty face,” she jokes.
My eyes track down her body once more, and I feel my cock twitch in my trousers.
You are way more than a pretty face, Miss St. James.
“Go sit. I’ll bring the food out when it’s ready.”
My gaze moves to the dining table. “You set the table?”
“That’s something normal people do when they’re preparing to sit down and have a meal.”
“That’s not what I meant, smartarse. It looks … dare I say, romantic. Where did that candle come from?”
“I bought it. This is a thank you for all that you’ve done for me dinner … it’s not a date. We broke up, remember?”
I bark out a laugh. “Ah, the infamous breakup that I still don’t remember you discussing with me.”
Her eyes slightly narrow. “We broke up, Spencer … there, the conversation is had.”
I bring my glass to my mouth to hide my grin. “Whatever you say, Delilah.”
Delilah stands and clears the table after our first course … and colour me impressed.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a restaurant-worthy meal. I’m eager to see what the next course entails.
After refilling both our glasses, I sit back in my seat and take another gulp of wine as I track her every move. She looks completely at home in my kitchen. This place has always been my sanctuary. My solitude is something I’ve prized, until now. I’m realising I could get used to coming home to this … to her. It’s a thought I’m not entirely comfortable with.
She’s far too young, and even if she was interested in pursuing something further—which I’m most certainly not—it would never work. Having a house guest is something fresh, an adventure of sorts, but I’m positive the novelty will wear off soon enough.
When she turns and I see her holding a large serving platter in her hand, I quickly stand. “Let me get that,” I offer. I glance down at the dish as I carry it to the table, and again I’m impressed. “This looks delicious.”
I’ve dined at the finest restaurants all over the world during my lifetime, but I can probably count on one hand how many home-cooked meals I’ve eaten.
Once the last course is devoured, I sit back in my chair and run my flattened palm over my abs. I’m thoroughly stuffed. But the knowledge of my confession—of the file I have sitting in my briefcase—sits heavy in my gut.
My eyes flicker to Delilah. She looks happy, and maybe a little tipsy. Her cheeks are flushed, and a sweet smile graces her pretty face. “Thank you for dinner.”
“You’re welcome,” she replies as her smile grows. She has no idea what this meant to me. It’s been an enjoyable evening—the food, the company, all of it.
I reach for my wine and take another sip as I brace myself to come clean. But when she lets out a cute little yawn, I decide tonight is not the night. She needs her rest, and the clusterfuck I was about to reveal will kill any chance of that.
“Why don’t you head to bed? I can clean this up,” I offer.
“I’ll help.”
“Delilah,” I grumble when she pushes back her chair and stands.
“Spencer,” she counters. “You’ve had a long day. We’ll be able to knock it over in no time if we tackle it together. Then we can both head to bed.” She pauses for a moment as her eyes dart in my direction. “Separately, of course.”
I chuckle as I stand and reach for my dessert bowl and wine glass. “Of course.” I refuse to let my mind think of the alternative.
I inhale a deep breath and then slowly release it as I reach for the receiver on my desk to buzz Delilah. “Can I see you in my office for a moment, Miss St. James?” I ask when she answers.
“Of course, Mr Prescott.”
It’s now or never. This knowledge has been forefront in my mind all morning, and it’s hindering my productivity. She needs to know what’s been going on, and then together, I can help her deal with it.
She knocks on my open door once before entering. She’s wearing a body-hugging pink pencil dress today, accompanied by a matching short-sleeved pink bolero jacket. It must be new because I’ve never seen her wear it before. The heels on her feet are white, and her long blonde hair is pulled back into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. She looks professional and damn sexy.
I left for the office before she was even out of bed this morning. It was a cowardly move, but I needed some distance. I wasn’t sure if I could’ve handled another cosy breakfast together.
When she arrived at the office with my coffee in hand, it was a struggle not to ogle that incredible arse of hers as she retreated back to her desk, but surprisingly, I managed.
“You wanted to see me,” she says, crossing the room.
“Yes. Take a seat,” I reply. She does as I ask, and I sit forward and knot my hands together, resting them on the desk. “I found some things out yesterday that I thought you might like to know.”
“Such as?”
“Did you know your sister has an Only Fans page?”
Her pretty eyes widen. “She does?”
“Yes. She’s had it for over a year … she has quite the little side hustle going on.”
“You saw it? You looked at pictures of her naked?”
“No, that woman repulses me, but trust me when I say the account exists.”
“Wow.”
“I’m surprised Kayne is okay with that … he was always jealous of other guys looking at me when we were together.”
“I don’t think he knows. I found nothing in his browsing history to confirm he does.”
“His browsing history? How were you able to see that?”
I clear my throat and tug on my tie as I sit back in my chair. “I added a link to your chat thread with them yesterday … they both clicked on it. It gave me full access to their cloud.”
She gasps. “You hacked into their computers?”
“Technically, they gave me permission.”
“You mean, unknowingly permitted you. Is that even legal?”
I click my tongue. “Delilah,” I say. “I did it for you … knowledge is power.”
“What else did you find?” she asks, but I can tell she’s not happy about this.
I exhale a long breath as I open my top drawer and retrieve the file. “I only skimmed the surface, but you won’t like the things I’ve already found.”
“Why?”
“Abigail wasn’t his first, Delilah.”
“What do you mean?”
“I only went back a year, then stopped. There were many other women, including a few prostitutes.”
“He was cheating on me the entire time?”
When I see the tears rise in her eyes, I nod my head. “For a while, at least. It’s all in here,” I say, dropping the file onto the desk. “I’m sorry to be the one to inform you, but I thought you had a right to know.”
She picks up the folder and opens it, and that’s when I see the first tear fall. My heart hurts for her as I sit here and watch her eyes scan over the first few papers on top.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispers. The heel of her free hand rubs over her thorax as her ex’s betrayal sinks in. “Prostitutes.” She sits there unblinking for the longest time as all the colour drains from her face. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Chapter 17
Spencer
Ifeel terrible for hurting Delilah. Her ex’s deceitfulness was something I couldn’t hide from her, but I still hated myself for it.
When she told me she was going to be sick, I led her to my private bathroom, where she bent over the toilet and proceeded to dry-heave. She asked me to give her a moment, so I closed the door on my way out, and that’s when I heard her break down. My heart tore in two as I rested my forehead against the doorframe and listened. I desperately wanted to go in there and wrap her in my arms, but ultimately decided against it. I may not have been the man who had cheated and lied to her for years, but it was my actions that led to her distress.
At least twenty minutes passed before she exited. When she did, her eyes were red and puffy, but her spine was straight, her shoulders pinned back, and her chin was lifted. She approached my desk, collected the file, and left my office without another word. The resilience and strength of this woman continues to astound me.
She was quiet for the rest of the afternoon, just going about her day. When five rolled around, she popped her head in and said she was heading back to the apartment. “I’ll see you when you get home,” were her exact words.
I had planned on leaving with her, but got the feeling she didn’t want that. When my father’s infidelities were revealed, and my life temporarily imploded, I remember wanting space. A chance to accept the things you cannot change, and to deal with them the best you can. Only then was I able to move forward, and she will too.
This morning, though, was a new day, and after a restless sleep, I needed to see her before I left. Instead of going into the office early, I’ve ordered some breakfast to be brought to the apartment building, and I’m now sitting and waiting for her to emerge from her room. As far as I know, she didn’t eat dinner last night, so I want to get some food into her before we leave.
When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I slide it out of my suit jacket and look down at the screen. I’m surprised to see it’s her calling.
“Delilah.”
“Mr Prescott. I know this is late notice, but would it be possible for me to take the morning off?”
Standing, I cross the room and enter the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. I stop outside her door and lift my hand, wrapping my knuckle against the wood.
I don’t call out her name, but I hear her hurried footsteps approaching a few seconds later. There’s a distinct click of the lock before it opens, and I’m in two minds about that.
The phone is still held to her ear as she says, “Oh, you’re still here? I thought you’d be at the office by now.”
“I wanted to travel in together today,” I reply, which is followed by a groan when I realise, like her, I’m still talking into the damn phone.
I end the call, slide it into my pocket, and hold my hand out to her. She takes it without hesitation. “Come, I’ve ordered you some breakfast. We can discuss this while we eat.”
I’m again struck by how small and delicate her hand feels wrapped in mine.
When we reach the table, I let her go and pull out her chair. “Sit.” I grab some plates from the cupboard and open the brown paper bags.
“Don’t give me much,” she says. “I’m not that hungry.”
“Did you eat last night?” She shakes her head in reply. “That’s what I thought.”
Ignoring her request, I fill her plate. I ordered a variety of breakfast crepes from one of my favourite restaurants, hash browns, that are made in-house, and some freshly chopped fruit.
I grin smugly as I place it down in front of her. “I said—”
“I heard what you said, but I chose to ignore it … now eat.”
She rolls her eyes and picks up her fork. “I thought maybe your hearing was going … that happens when you’re old, you know.”
I bark out a laugh because I’d take her sass over the tears any day.
When I step into the elevator, I pull out my phone and text Damien.
Me: I’m going to drive myself to work this morning. I need you to hang around here … discreetly, of course. Delilah is taking the morning off, and I’m concerned about her. If she leaves the building for any reason, can you follow her from a distance? I need to know she’s safe.
Damien: So, basically you are asking me to spy on her and report back to you?
Smartarse. I chuckle to myself as I type my reply.
Me: Basically, yes.
Damien: Sure thing, boss.
I have no clue what is going on with her. Forcing her to eat a big breakfast only backfired in my face. Because every time I asked a question she didn’t want to answer, she shovelled more food into her mouth.
The interrogation went something like this:
“Are you going to confront them with the things I found?”
She shook her head as she chewed.
“Do you want me to keep digging?”
Another head shake.
“Why do you need the morning off?”
I sat there for a good minute waiting for her to swallow the food in her mouth before I got a reply.
“I have some things I need to do,” she answered, which was the most she spoke all morning.
“What things?” I probed.
“Stuff.”
Although her lack of information pissed me off, I ended up agreeing to her request and left for the office. I’ll have my assistant, Simone, sit in for her until she gets here. I can only hope she does. On the drive to work, my head was all over the place.
What if she doesn’t come back?
My morning is unproductive. It’s safe to say I’ve worked myself into a bit of a state. I’m currently pacing the floor in my office as I wait for an update from Damien. Delilah left the apartment half an hour ago and hopped on a bus. To where? Who the fuck knows?
I pull out my phone.
Me: Any updates?
Damien: Yes, she just entered a clinic in Darlinghurst.
Me: A clinic?
Damien: Yes. The signage out the front reads Better2Know.
I round my desk and take a seat, frantically typing that name into my search bar. When I see that it’s a clinic that specialises in comprehensive sexually transmitted infections, I sit back in my chair and blow out a long breath. No wonder she was reluctant to tell me where she was going.
She’s worried that she caught something from that piece of shit.
Fuck.
I lean forward and grab my phone.
Me: Thanks for the update. You can leave now.
Damien: You don’t want me to wait until she comes out?
Me: No.
As much as I want to be there for her, I need to respect her privacy with this one.
I asked Shay-lee to buzz me when Delilah arrived, and true to her word, she entered the building just before midday.
By the time she reaches my office, I’m sitting behind my desk, pretending to look busy and trying to act like I haven’t been going out of my mind for the past few hours.
“I’m here,” she says, popping her head into my office.
I casually glance up from my screen and observe how pale and spooked she looks. The sight tugs at my heart. Especially considering I now know where she’s been. That ex of hers needs his arse kicked, and I just might be the man to do it.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she answers, forcing out a smile.
“If you’re not feeling the best, Simone and I can handle it here.”
“No, I’m good. I want to stay busy.”
Of course, she does. The last thing she needs is to sit around and worry about what infectious diseases she may have.
Delilah did her best to steer clear of me for the rest of the day, so I gave her what she needed. She remained on my mind the entire time, though. The more I thought about everything this guy had put her through, the angrier I became. If it were up to me, I’d destroy that motherfucker. Starting by exposing his true self by plastering his infidelities to the world. Women need to know what they’re getting into with this one.
