The Stranger, page 8
I reach for my tie, tugging on it. I’m suddenly finding it hard to breathe. What is it with this woman? Is it the fact she’s forbidden that has me so drawn in? That has to be it. I’m a man who is used to getting what he wants, so it’s only natural I’d gravitate towards something I know I can never have.
I was a fool to organise that damn shopping spree, and I’ve been berating myself ever since. Did my mother purposely choose outfits she knew would drive me to the point of insanity? Or does it have nothing to do with the actual clothes and everything to do with the woman wearing them?
“Good morning, Mr Prescott,” she says, crossing the room with my coffee in hand.
My eyes lock with hers, and I see a slight pink blush form on her cheeks. Is she aware that I was just checking her out? Fuck, I hope not. Get your shit together, Prescott. You are a grown-arse man, not a prepubescent teenager.
I extend my hand when she reaches the desk and try to ignore the tingle that shoots up my arm when our fingers brush. My brain immediately tries to calculate when the last time I got laid was. It’s been a while … a few months at best. I’ve never gone this long without a release. The realisation fills me with relief. That’s all this is—a build-up of testosterone. I need to rectify that stat.
I clear my throat and pray that my voice hasn’t raised a few octaves when I speak. “Thank you, Miss St. James.” My eyes scan over her lovely face, and that’s when I notice the black rings under her eyes. They are faint but despite the makeup she’s wearing, they’re still visible. “How was your weekend?” I ask.
“Busy.”
“What did you get up to?” This is a question I wouldn’t usually ask an employee, but the shadows under her eyes concern me.
A small smile tugs at her lips. “I worked.”
“Worked? Where?”
“I took on a second job.”
Whatever the hell I was feeling a few moments ago is quickly replaced with annoyance. “You took a second job doing what?”
“Waiting tables,” she beams, as if serving people and collecting their dirty dishes when they’re done is some kind of significant accomplishment. It sounds like hell if you ask me.
“Why?”
“I need the money, and besides, it gets me out of the house.”
The last part I can understand, and that only angers me further. She shouldn’t be spending her days off waiting on people. She should be relaxing, enjoying life … living.
“I don’t pay you enough?”
Her eyes slightly widen. “Yes, you pay me well. More than I think I deserve.”
I can guarantee it’s a lot more than she ever got working at the dental clinic. All of my employees are paid well, but unbeknownst to her, the rate of pay that Delilah receives for her current position far exceeds any other receptionist in this building, both past and present.
“Then why are you working a second job?” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “And please don’t tell me it has anything to do with the reimbursement of your new wardrobe.”
“Actually,” she says, opening the flap on the black bag that hangs from her shoulder, “I have this for you.”
She hands me a white envelope and my temper escalates to the next level when I see two fifty-dollar bills inside. “What is this?” I growl.
“Umm … money.”
“I can see that, smartarse. Money for what?”
“The clothes.”
I open and close my free hand a few times, trying to calm the fury that is rising from within. “We already worked out a payment plan for that, Delilah.”
“The total cost of the clothes came to over six thousand dollars, Spencer. You’re only allowing me to pay back fifty dollars a week … that is going to take forever.”
I bang my hand down on the desk. “I don’t even want that money back … I was simply placating you, Miss St. James.”
Her tiny hands ball into fists by her side as her high-heel-clad foot stamps down.
“You’re showing your age again, sweetheart.”
She releases a tiny growl, and I’m forced to roll my lips to hide my smile. “And you are showing your chauvinistic, pigheaded side, Mr Prescott,” she grates out through her gritted pearly white teeth.
When we originally sat down to hash out the additional clause in her contract—to have her wages garnished—my first offer was five dollars a week. Her immediate reply—probably best described as a high-pitched squeal—was, “Five dollars a week! You’ll be retired and living out your days in a nursing home by the time I pay you back.”
That comment did not go down well at all. I’m only ten years fucking older than her. After some back-and-forth, we eventually agreed on fifty dollars, which I wasn’t exactly comfortable with, but the entire situation was giving me a headache.
“I’m not taking this,” I bark, tossing the envelope across the desk.
She straightens her shoulders, tips her chin, and narrows her eyes. “You don’t exactly have a choice.” With that, she spins on her heels and storms from my office.
Even though I’m seething, my eyes immediately gravitate to that tight little arse of hers and the hypnotic sway of those damn hips.
Chapter 11
Delilah
I’m dragging my feet as I walk towards the bus stop. It’s late, and it’s been a long, tiring day. I’m not used to standing for ten hours straight. I don’t love my new job, but don’t exactly hate it either. It keeps me away from my sister and Kayne, who has now conveniently decided to spend his weekends at our place. When he was with me, we’d usually spend our free time at his. I’m not sure what’s changed there, but the less I see of those two, the better.
Although I’m moving forward with my life, it still hurts to see them all loved up. Do they do it purposely, to rub it in my face? Ugh. Probably. I’d expect it from Abigail, but that’s not the type of person Kayne was when we were together.
I let out a deep sigh when I finally reach the bus stop and take a seat. The balls of my feet feel like they’re on fire. I need to look into getting a decent pair of shoes that have more support than these. It’s late, it’s dark, and I’m the only person at this stop, but I’m too tired to care.
That is until a black, SUV skids to an abrupt stop alongside the kerb, right in front of where I’m sitting. I blindly reach for my bag, wrapping the strap around my hand two times, never once taking my eyes off the vehicle.
My heart is hammering in my chest when the heavily tinted window rolls down, so I jump to my feet, preparing to flee. “Get in,” the gravelly voice growls and my fright turns to irritation in an instant.
“What the hell, Spencer? You scared the crap out of me.”
“Well then we’re even. Now you can relate to how I felt when I turned up at your work at the end of your shift, only to find you’d already left.”
“I didn’t know you were coming, so you have no right to be angry at me. And how did you find out where I worked … and what time I was getting off?”
“Your mother.”
Huh. That’s one place I didn’t think he’d go for information.
He pestered me all week about my new job, but I wouldn’t tell him anything. At one point, he had Damien and Eloise pumping me for information, but I remained tight-lipped.
It was clear Spencer wasn’t happy that I was spending my weekends working, and my silence where that was concerned made him grouchier than usual. As long as what I did in my spare time wasn’t affecting my work at Prescott Enterprises, what I did outside of office hours was none of his business.
When a horn sounds, he leans across the centre console and opens the passenger side door. “Get in.” My eyes flicker from him to the bus that is impatiently stopped behind him … the one I’m supposed to be catching home, and I’m torn. “Don’t test me, Delilah. I’m in no mood for your theatrics today.”
His statement has me wanting to say, “Screw you,” and get on the bus, but when the horn sounds for a second time, I climb into Spencer’s car.
He stares at me for a moment, not moving. “Unless you want to get a fine, I suggest you drive.”
“I will when you put your seat belt on.”
I do as he asks, and once I’m buckled in, he flicks on his indicator and pulls into traffic. I use this time to take him in. Starting from that thick mane of dark hair which looks extra tousled today. His eyes are focused on the road, and I notice the slight tick of his defined jaw that’s covered in a light stubble. I’ve never seen him anything other than clean-shaven, and I have an overwhelming compulsion to reach towards him and skim the tips of my fingers over it.
He's dressed more casually than I’ve ever seen him, in a tightfitting, navy-blue Henley, which has a white collar and cuffs. The long sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, so I take a moment to admire those tanned muscly forearms and powerful hands I’ve become slightly obsessed with. That’s when I see his white knuckles, caused by the death grip hold he has on the steering wheel.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask. His lips thin, but he remains silent. I roll my eyes and turn my head to look out the passenger window. I guess he’s extra growly tonight.
A minute ticks by before he says, “What time is it, Delilah?”
I lift one shoulder. I was supposed to get off at ten, but things were quiet tonight, so my manager let me leave a little earlier. “I’m presuming almost ten.”
This time, he briefly looks away from the road and directly at me. “Exactly!” he barks. “Ten o’clock in the evening, and where did I find you? Sitting all alone in the pitch fucking dark, at an isolated bus stop in the city, where all the surrounding businesses are closed. All it would have taken was a drunk, some fucking creep, or a mentally deranged homeless person to walk past—” he bangs his hand down on the steering wheel before continuing, “—I don’t even want to contemplate what might have happened. Your complete disregard for your own safety astounds me.”
“I’ve done it several times and never had an issue.”
“Consider this the last time. You won’t be doing it again.”
“What? I’m not quitting my job.”
“I’m not asking you to, but I refuse to let you catch public transport at night.”
“I have no option.”
“You have options.”
“An Uber would cost almost as much as I earn. The bus is cheaper.”
“You have me,” he barks.
“If you think I’m going to rely on you to pick me up and drive me all the way home—”
“I won’t be taking you home,” he says, cutting me off. “You’ll be spending your weekends with me for the foreseeable future.” My mouth falls open, and I am literally speechless for a moment.
“You’re delusional if you think that’s going to happen.”
“Oh, it’s happening,” he warns.
“You have no control over what I do outside of the office.”
“Put it this way, Delilah. If you want to continue working at that restaurant, you don’t have a choice.”
“What are you saying? If I don’t agree to your terms, you’re going to get me fired?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Watch me. I have power, an endless amount of money, and if all else fails, I know people who wouldn’t hesitate to break someone’s legs to get them to comply.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” he asks with a smirk.
“I can’t even with you right now … besides, my parents would never allow me to stay at your place … they barely even know you.”
He points his thumb over his shoulder towards the back seat. “Do you recognise that bag?”
I turn to look and gasp. “You went to my house?”
“How else was I going to get the information I needed?”
“You own an IT company; couldn’t you just hack into the system or something?”
“I could have, but that would be illegal, Delilah.”
“You have issues,” I scoff.
“I do … a five-foot-nothing blonde by the name of Delilah St. James.”
“You are such a conundrum,” I say as we ride the elevator up to the penthouse.
“How so?” he asks sceptically.
“If my presence annoys you so much, then why are you so hellbent on me staying here?”
“I won’t pretend I’m thrilled about it, but I’m prepared to make sacrifices to keep you safe.”
“How noble of you,” I sneer.
When he turns his head and rolls his lips to hide his smile, I have to restrain myself from kicking him in the shins.
He leans back against the wall of the carriage, focusing on the numbers as we rise. I use the time to take in the rest of him; my view was limited when he was seated behind the wheel in the car. My narrowed eyes slowly peruse down the length of his body. Now that he’s standing, I can see the definition of his pectoral muscles and his well-defined abs. Somewhere in this man’s busy schedule, he finds the time to work out.
My gaze moves slightly lower, to the tan belt thread through the loops of his dark designer jeans. I thought three-piece-suit Spencer was my favourite look on him, but I’m finding the casually dressed man before me equally appealing.
My eyes inch a tad lower and almost bug out of my head when I notice the bulge. Holy cow. This man is packing some impressive heat behind that zipper.
He clears his throat and when my attention snaps to his face, I see him studying me intently. Oh-my-fucking-God, did he just bust me staring at his dick?
As soon as we arrive at Spencer’s floor, he reaches for the handle of my suitcase and moves to the side so I can exit first. In the short time I’ve known him, I’ve noted his gentlemanly ways.
Like the time we met, when he came to my parents for dinner, and again when we had lunch on my first day of work, he pulled out my chair. Despite having Damien chauffeuring us around, he still insists on being the one to open the back door for me. And whenever we enter a room at the same time, he always stands back and allows me to enter first.
I like that about him.
I wouldn’t exactly say chivalry is dead, but it’s rarely something I see with men from my generation. Kayne did none of those things for me.
“Wow,” I murmur when I step out of the carriage and into the expansive foyer. It has all the grandeur of his office building and then some.
Unlike the dark, moody, masculine design of his office, this luxurious entryway is light, airy, and sophisticated. Every mirror, piece of furniture, or painting on the wall has been placed with perfect symmetry. The space is predominantly white, with a touch of gold, black, and grey throughout. The huge modern chandelier that sits in the centre of the room is positioned above a chunky, round, grey and white marble pedestal table, and a vase of fresh flowers adorns the top. It is the kind of place a person like me would only ever see in a magazine, never in real life.
My sneakers squeak against the marble, and my eyes are everywhere as I cross the space, trying to take everything in. We eventually come to a stop in front of a set of high, white, hand-carved double doors.
“You actually live here?” I ask in wonderment as he sets down my suitcase and removes the set of keys from his pocket to unlock the door.
“In the foyer? No.”
“Hah, very funny,” I say, poking his rock-solid side.
The deep throaty chuckle that follows sends a buzz of energy zinging up my spine. It’s scary how fast this stranger has become such a huge part of my life, and I can’t believe I’m about to enter his home and spend the night.
Once the door is unlocked, he again gestures for me to enter first. The interior of his apartment does not disappoint and I again find myself struggling where to look first.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
“You think this place is nice? You should see my estate. I usually only stay here during the week because it’s close to the office.”
“Oh,” I say, side-eyeing him.
“Will you be travelling there tonight?”
“No. Come,” he grumbles moving across the room. “I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping tonight.”
Although my gut tells me I can trust this man not to take advantage of me, I still have no intentions of sharing a bed with him. “I’ll be fine on the couch.”
“You’ll be sleeping in one of the spare rooms, Delilah.”
I feel my cheeks heat. “Oh.”
He gives me a strange look as he leads me through the main room, past a chef-worthy kitchen, and down a long hallway.
“The room down the end of the hall is mine … it’s off-limits,” he states.
“Okay,” I squeak. He needn’t worry. I have no intention of sneaking in there in the middle of the night … or ever.
“You can choose any of these three,” he says, gesturing with his hand.
The doors are all closed, but I point to the one furthest away from his room. “This one.”
He clears his throat as he opens the door, again standing back so I can enter first. Following me into the room, he lifts the suitcase onto the bed. “You didn’t … umm … pack that, right?”
“No, your mother did. I sat in the lounge room while your father and that dick you were engaged to tried to intimidate me with their death stares.”
I wince. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I wasn’t bothered by it.”
“My dad isn’t usually like that … he’s protective of Abigail.”
“He has two daughters, Delilah … and I’m not dating your sister. I’m dating you.”
My eyes widen as my head snaps in his direction. “We are not dating.”
“Fake dating then.”
I tip my chin. “Like I told you, I took that status down … we broke up.”
A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as he arches one of his brows. “I don’t remember having that conversation with you, Miss St. James. You can’t claim you’ve broken up with somebody if the other party isn’t privy to that knowledge.”
