The Stranger, page 4
“This whole thing is deplorable.”
She lifts one shoulder. “I’m kind of used to being treated like I don’t matter around here, although this is the worst I’ve experienced from them.”
“Why do they treat you so poorly?”
“My sister constantly reminds me that I was a mistake. My father only wanted one child, so he was less than pleased when my mum fell pregnant with me.”
“That’s still no excuse.”
“Abigail once told me my dad wanted to put me up for adoption when I was born, but my mum couldn’t go through with it. I guess I’ve been paying the price for that decision ever since.”
“Do you believe that?”
She shrugs again. “It makes sense. My sister has always been the golden child … at least with my dad. I get the feeling my mum goes along with it most of the time to please him. He was a spoilt only child. I’ve seen him throw, what could best be described as a temper tantrum, many times over the years when he hasn’t gotten his way. Maybe that’s why my mum is so compliant, she likes to keep the peace. Sometimes I get upset with her for not having a backbone, but the reality is, I’m not much different from her. My family dynamics are pretty messed up.”
“That is … I have no words,” I say because I’m genuinely struggling to wrap my head around it all.
“It is what it is. As for my sister, we aren’t close, but I’d never do something like this to her. Even if she didn’t have such rotten taste in men.”
“Hmm,” I hum, arching an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say she had a thing for me?”
A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “Like I said in our conversation on Messenger, you’re not my type, Mr Prescott.”
I bark out a laugh, because I can tell by the cheeky look on her face that she’s baiting me. “Is that so, Miss St. James?”
“You’re practically old enough to be my father.”
“Granted, I’m way too old for you, but I’m only thirty-two, Delilah,” I grumble. “I have ten years on you at best.”
The grin on her face grows, and damn, she looks so pretty when she smiles. I’d take that over her tears any day.
“I’ll be twenty-two next month, so that’s a good observation.”
“One of my many talents,” I boast. “I don’t know how you can stand living here under these circumstances.”
“I don’t have a choice. What little savings I had went towards the wedding. I’m broke and jobless. It may not be ideal, but it’s better than the streets … or living out of my car.”
“Do you need a job?”
“Desperately. I’ve applied for ten in the last week alone, but the only work experience I have is at the dental clinic. I started there as soon as I graduated high school. I wouldn’t be surprised if Kayne’s family is giving me a bad reference.”
Against my better judgement—which I seem to be doing a lot of lately—I pull out my wallet and hand her a business card. “Drop by my office on Monday and I’ll see what I can do.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she says, pushing the card back into my hand. “You’ve already done so much for me.”
“Good thing you didn’t ask then, isn’t it?”
“Ugh. I’m pretty sure your mother said that exact thing to me earlier.” I chuckle because she is probably right … my mother has said those same words to me many times. “Do you even have an opening for a receptionist? Because that is the only work experience I have.”
“I’m the CEO, Delilah. I can create a position if necessary.”
Chapter 5
Delilah
“You look pretty, Lilah,” my mum says when I enter the kitchen. “Where are you off to all dolled up?”
It’s Monday morning, and I’m dressed in a tight black pencil skirt and the matching blazer I wore to my grandmother’s funeral last year. It’s nothing flashy but it is the fanciest thing I own. My uniform at the dental clinic comprised of pale blue scrubs with a small embroidered logo on the right-hand corner of the top, declaring About Smiles Dentistry.
“I have a second interview at Prescott Enterprises,” I lie. Technically, it’s my first, but I had to keep up the pretences.
“Your second interview? He’s your boyfriend, why wouldn’t he just give you the job?”
“I want to do it the right way, Mum … get the position fair and square, on my own merit.” Which was my second fib for the day, and it was only 7:30 am.
I do, however, have my resume ready to take with me. I’m aware Kayne’s father hired me to work at About Smiles because I was dating his son. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t good at what I did. I was meticulous at my job and had that place running like clockwork.
The patients there loved me.
When my sister enters the kitchen, I give her my back as I pour myself a glass of water. I don’t miss the grunting sound she makes when she sees me. Bitch. I’d spent most of the weekend in my room, avoiding my family—namely her—like the plague.
I lost my bravado once Spencer left and immediately went back to feeling outnumbered. The dinner was a disaster for all … me, not so much. It’s a night I won’t forget in a hurry, because I didn’t feel so ganged up on.
Once we rejoined my family at the dining table, the air was so thick you could’ve cut it with a knife. My sister sat with her arms crossed over her chest, sporting the longest face I’d ever seen on her. It was very unbecoming. All I could think was, you’re not so smug now.
Kayne looked absolutely murderous, and my father wasn’t far behind him. My mother was busy clearing the plates with a fake smile on her face … it’s what she does. She has spent her life with her head in the sand, refusing to admit to reality.
That’s when Spencer asked her if it was okay if he cracked open the bottle of champagne he’d bought with him, saying he’d like to make a toast. I didn’t know what he was going to toast about, and I almost choked on my tongue when he spoke.
“I want to make a toast to the happy couple. I hope you two find a lifetime of contentment together.” At first, his words confused me. I think we all were a little stunned at that, but then he continued. “I’m so grateful that you both found your way to each other because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have ended up with the ultimate prize.” He then turned his attention to me. “The woman who has captured my heart. Delilah St. James, you are the sweetest, kindest and most loyal partner. Any man would be lucky to have you by his side. I adore you, sweetheart,” he had added with another one of those cheeky winks as he clinked his glass with mine.
This man had charisma and charm in spades.
Everything he said was fake, I knew it and so did he, but I’ll admit I swooned. Who wouldn’t? If this is what the real Spencer Prescott was like, he was going to make some woman very happy one day.
His speech had my sister running from the room in tears and Kayne getting up and leaving abruptly through the front door, slamming it behind him as he left.
“I think it’s time you left,” my father spat.
Spencer calmly downed the rest of his drink, placed the champagne flute on the table, and stood.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs St. James,” he said to my mother with a curt nod. “I’d like to say it was a pleasant evening, but we both know I’d be lying.” He then reached for my hand. “Walk me out, sweetheart.”
I step off the bus and walk the short distance to Prescott Enterprises. Standing on the sidewalk, I tilt my head back and gaze up at the enormous building that stands before me. It’s modern, sleek, and a little imposing in real life.
My weekend solitary confinement was spent googling everything I could on both Spencer Prescott and his IT company. I was left a tad intimidated and bewildered by the end. It became glaringly obvious I didn’t, and would never, fit into his world. The luxurious mansions, flashy cars, lavish holidays. Not to mention the endless array of beautiful women.
As for Prescott Enterprises, I love the diversity that comes with working with such a large corporation. As much as I enjoyed my time at the dental clinic, it was rather boring and monotonous.
That being said, I did a lot of soul-searching on the bus ride into the city this morning, and although I appreciate everything Spencer Prescott has done for me thus far, I’ve decided not to take him up on his offer. I’ve already experienced charity employment—let’s give poor Delilah a job until she’s ready to pump out those babies, because what else is she good for? I’m not about to put myself in that position again. I may not be a straight-A student, like my sister, but I’m reliable, punctual, a fast learner, and an extremely hard worker. I’ll find another job, eventually.
I give myself a few minutes to bask in the what-ifs before I enter the building. It’s even more impressive and opulent on the inside.
My high heels click against the white marble floor as I cross the expansive foyer towards the large, curved mahogany desk that sits against the far wall. My eyes are everywhere as I do. There are men in fancy business suits standing around talking and women of various ages, sizes, and ethnicities, all dressed to the nines in designer outfits. Some have takeaway coffee cups in hand as they rush towards the lifts that line the left side of the foyer.
As pretty as I felt when I got ready this morning, I’m suddenly feeling a little underdressed in my bargain rack, funeral attire.
I’m half expecting to run into Spencer as I make my way across the room, and that thought has me thinking back to Abigail telling him how they had met in this very space before. A tiny smile tugs at my lips as I do. “I can’t say remember that encounter, but I have over three hundred people working for me, Miss St. James, and a constant rotation of interns. It would be impossible for me to recall every interaction.”
Butterflies knot in my stomach as I come to a stop in front of the reception desk. The polished wood gleams under the downlights, and I have to refrain from reaching out to skim my fingers along it. It’s a vast contrast to the black PVC desk I used to sit behind.
The pretty woman with jet-black hair and striking green eyes looks up at me. “Welcome to Prescott Enterprises,” she says, smiling. “How can I help you today?”
“Hi,” I reply as my hands wring nervously at my sides. “My name is Delilah St. James; I’m here to see Mr Prescott.”
Her smile grows as she turns towards the computer screen and types something into the keyboard. “He doesn’t have you down in his schedule … give me a moment and I’ll call him.”
We never actually agreed on a time … does he even remember he told me to call by? I feel my face flush. “Oh, I don’t want to bother him if he’s busy, I can come—”
The woman presses a button on the keypad, then holds up the same finger to halt me. “Mr Prescott, it’s Shay-lee from reception. I have a Miss St. James here to see you.”
When she ends the call, she opens the top drawer and pulls out a plastic card before standing. “Come, he asked me to bring you up.”
She rounds the desk, and I follow her as she makes her way towards a singular elevator on the opposite side to the others. After pressing the button, we remain silent as we step into the carriage.
Once the doors close, she scans the card in her hand and presses the button for the seventeenth floor. “I take it you’re the Delilah St. James? You caused quite a stir here last week,” she states.
“Me?” I squeak.
“Yes, from your status on social media.”
“Oh, that,” I say, bowing my head and blushing again.
“Mr Prescott has always had an air of mystery surrounding him. He’s an extremely private person, so you can imagine how your post had the rumour mill buzzing.” When I grimace, she reaches out to place her hand on my arm. “It is a good thing, Delilah. He’s a great boss … very personable, but he lives, eats and breathes this place, so it was nice to see he has a life outside these walls.”
I nod my head as I nibble on the corner of my lip, grateful that I wore my long hair down and put on makeup this morning. I might be almost twenty-two years old, but I still get asked for ID occasionally, especially when my hair is tied back in a ponytail and I’m fresh-faced. I had a guy tell me once I looked twelve. Gah.
I’m now appreciating that I had the foresight to take that post down on the bus ride here. The last thing I want to do is make Spencer look predatory amongst his employees. It just cements my decision to reject his offer. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate his staff gossiping about him as they stand by the water cooler.
Thankfully, our ride to his floor is quick. “This is where I leave you,” Shay-lee says as the doors open. “It was lovely to meet you in person, Delilah.”
“You too,” I reply, stepping off the elevator.
When the doors close behind me, I glance around the space. There is no sign of Spencer anywhere as I take in my surroundings.
This level is decorated differently than downstairs, but it still screams luxury. The polished tiles are a dark grey, and the walls are painted just a fraction lighter. It’s moody and very masculine.
A large, modern, L-shaped black desk is placed in the centre of the room. A single black leather chair sits behind it, and a slimline computer is off to one side. What appears to be a floating wall in the rear has a large colourful abstract painting hanging from it.
I turn my head to the left and see the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the city skyline in the distance. I take a step closer as I’m pulled in that direction … I want to get a better look. I’ve never seen Sydney from this vantage point before.
Before I reach my destination, I hear a deep voice say, “Delilah, thank God you’re here.”
I spin on my feet, and I’m forced to intake a sharp breath when I see Spencer Prescott standing there all dapper in his dark three-piece suit. He runs his hand through his mane of thick brown hair. He looks frazzled.
“Are you okay?” I ask, taking a few steps in his direction.
“I have a meeting with my lawyer across town—” he looks down at his watch and sighs, “—in twenty minutes. My assistant is caught in traffic and my personal receptionist called in sick. I’ve been trying to reach her for half a damn hour and she’s not answering. Shit,” he grumbles as he paces. “I don’t know where she left the files I need.”
“Can I help you look for them?”
“Please.” I place my bag down, remove my blazer, and roll up my sleeves. “We are looking for files, not going to war.”
I stop what I am doing, narrowing my eyes, and when I do, I see the ghost of a smile tug at his lips.
“Where should I start?”
“Fucked if I know. I’ve already turned my office upside down.”
I round the reception desk and pull out the chair. As I glance down, I see a neat stack of manila folders sitting there. I grin because he obviously had what my mother would refer to as ‘a man’s look’.
“This wouldn’t be them, by any chance?”
A deep frown mars his handsome face as he stalks in my direction, and my stomach does a flip-flop. You know, in that holy shit, this guy is smoking hot kind of way.
This is the second time in a matter of minutes that I’ve reacted to his presence. For someone who vehemently claims he’s not my type, I’m wondering if I may, in fact, have a secret fetish for older suit-clad, broody men, or maybe I’m suffering from daddy issues.
Spencer comes to stand beside me and, on top of all these weird feelings I’m experiencing, I’m now shrouded by his pheromone-inducing cologne. Was this man put in my path to cast doubts on everything I thought I knew about myself?
“Yes, that’s them,” he mumbles, reaching down to pick them up. “I shot off an email to Phoebe’s employment agency, threatening to terminate her if she didn’t return my call in five minutes.” He looks down at his ridiculously expensive watch again. “That was eight minutes ago. As luck would have it, I don’t need to create a position for you after all because I have a vacancy now.”
I gasp. “You can’t fire her over this.”
His gaze moves from the files in his hand to me, and when he scans my face, he gives me a strange look … like he’s only just now seeing me for the first time. “You have makeup on.”
“So?”
“That black stuff around your eyes makes the blue pop.”
“It’s called mascara, and don’t change the subject.”
His attention flickers down to my lips and a shudder courses down the length of my spine as he holds his stare. I’m reminded of what happened when we parted ways the other night. When I’d walked him out after my father rudely told him to leave, he was the first to notice Kayne standing by his vehicle watching us.
That is when he unexpectedly slid his arm around my waist, tugging me closer. “We have an audience,” he’d whispered in my ear. His warm breath against my skin made it pebble with goose bumps. I tilted my head back and gazed up at him, with what I can only gather were large, stunned eyes.
It was the second time that night he’d manhandled me, and I wasn’t exactly comfortable with how natural and safe it felt to be in his arms. He then did something that surprised us both—he leaned in and brushed his lips against the corner of my mouth. “I’ll see you Monday, Miss St. James,” were his parting words before he released me, climbed into his sports car, and drove away. I didn’t even spare a glance in Kayne’s direction as I practically floated back inside.
Is Spencer thinking about that almost-kiss now? Because I certainly am.
“This is my company, and I can do whatever I please.”
“The files were here waiting for you. It’s not her fault that she ended up being sick this morning.”
“She may be good at her job when she’s physically here, but that’s only been two months; she’s replacing my usual receptionist who’s on maternity leave. This is her seventh sick day in eight weeks. I have a corporation to run, and an unreliable player has the potential to let the entire team down.”
