by Ava Harrison
“If it’s any consolation, I want it just as bad as you,” she whispers for my ears only.
I grunt. “Doubtful.”
She giggles, sliding the rest of the way down.
This woman will be the death of me.
Today was extraordinary. Everything from the sites we visited to the conversation was beyond my expectation. There’s so much more to Spencer Lancaster. The tabloids have it all wrong. He’s the type of man who takes your breath away. The type of man you lose your heart to. I need to keep my guard up because that outcome is not in my favor. He won’t return my feelings. I’m not the type of girl Spencer ends up with.
Not perfect enough. I have too many flaws.
Now I sit across from him at L’Ambroisie. The cuisine is to die for, and I moan around a mouthful of ravioli.
“You like?” He stifles a laugh.
“It’s so good.” I beam.
“You were hungry.”
I grin. “Starved.”
A waiter approaches our table and Spencer rattles off something in perfect French. The way it rolls off his tongue you’d think it was his native language. It’s so sexy. I know a little Spanish, but that’s the extent of my language scope. Our worlds are so different, and in this moment it’s obvious. But I refuse to spoil the mood, so instead, once the man has left, I focus on Spencer.
“What did you say?”
“He asked if we wanted dessert and I passed. I hope that’s all right. I should’ve asked you.”
“I’m completely stuffed, so you made the right choice.” I smile. “So since you broke the rules before, how about you tell me something about yourself, Spencer. Something a little deeper than your favorite color or food.”
He sits back without saying a word. Any laughter that had previously danced in his eyes evaporates, replaced with a stone-like stare that is void of emotion. Several seconds go by, and I can’t take the awkward silence. “I just assumed since I shared something personal earlier you could return the favor.”
“I’m very guarded, Olivia.” He places his napkin on the table and looks into my eyes. “Do you know how many times I’ve been with a woman only to find that she ran off to the first tabloid she could find?” The mention of him with other women doesn’t sit well with me, but I let it go, instead focusing on everything else he said. “Nothing I say ever stays in confidence.”
“I can’t imagine. I’m sorry, Spencer,” I say sincerely. “But I’m not like those girls. I wouldn’t ever break your trust.”
“You say that, but when things end in two weeks you might not feel the same,” he huffs.
“Do you intend to treat me badly?”
“No, but, we’ll go our separate ways soon and maybe you won’t be happy about that when the time comes.”
I bristle. “You have a very high opinion of yourself,” I scoff, angry at his insinuation that I’ll want more but he won’t. “I’ll be perfectly fine parting ways with you when the time comes. I’m not looking for any more than you are.” I move to stand.
“Olivia, wait,” he says. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just trying to point out that in the past, these types of arrangements didn’t end well for me.”
I cringe at the word arrangement. “Arrangement? You make me sound like a call girl,” I spit.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. Stop putting words in my mouth.”
“Stop being an ass.”
“All I’m saying is girls in the past have developed feelings beyond what I did and they didn’t take it well.” He sighs. “I didn’t mean to compare you to them. I’m sorry.”
I sit. “I’m sorry I overreacted. I just don’t like to be compared to other people. When I agreed to this, I knew what I was getting into. I’m more than fine with this arrangement.”
Spencer cringes when I throw that word back in his face. “Okay, now I see why you don’t like that word.”
I purse my lips. “Can you just tell me how your meetings went this morning?” I try to steer us away from this conversation. He lets out an audible sigh and his shoulders noticeably drop in relief.
“I found a piece of property I think would be perfect for a hotel. Right now I just have to wait to see if my price is accepted.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then we start negotiations. Very seldom does the first offer get accepted. I’m sure there will be some haggling involved.”
“And so you’re going to do the same thing in Barcelona?” I quiz.
“Yes. I’m looking at another piece of property, hoping to take the name international. It’s the next wave of securing the hotel line.”
“Why hasn’t it been done yet?”
“My father started Lancaster Holdings, Inc. It was a large undertaking to make it what it is. We are one of the largest privately held companies in America. I guess he was so busy building an empire in the United States that he just never saw a reason to go international.”
“What changed?”
“My father and I are very different. He’s old school, set in his ways. I’m always looking toward the future. Trying to find ways that we can grow, how Lancaster Holding’s can adapt to a forever-changing environment. First thing I announced when I was made CEO was expansion.” He shrugs.
“How did your dad feel about that?”
“At first he didn’t take it well. But at the end of the day, I think he was relieved that he had retired and it was no longer his responsibility. His only responsibility was to spend more time with my mom.”
“Do they have a good relationship?” I probe, loving the view into the life of Spencer.
“They do. They have what you could call a fairy-tale relationship.”
The thought of that type of marriage makes me smile. One day I hope to have that too. “What was it like growing up with two brothers?”
“There’s a big age gap with Pierce, so it was always Grant and me,” he says. “Did you know we’re only twelve months apart?”
“I didn’t.”
“Yeah, we’re practically twins. It was always us. Together. Playing. Horsing around. We were the best of friends. When Pierce was born, Grant and I used to hide for hours from our parents but especially from the nanny.”
“Didn’t like the new baby?” I probe.
“Oh God no, we hated him.” With that, he laughs. “As Grant and I got older, we were still close even though we went to different schools. Grant decided to stay in New York and work for our father in his free time. I traveled the world. Studied architecture. Learned from books and life. He busted his ass. By the time he graduated he knew all the ins and outs while I was off doing God knows what.”
“Learning. You were off learning. You just had a different teacher.”
With that, he looks me in the eye, and he knows I understand. “Yes, exactly. I was learning all about building infrastructures. I was never supposed to be the boss.”
“So what happened? Why didn’t Grant take over?”
“He chose a different path.”
“And what was that?”
“He chose love.” There’s an edginess to his voice I can’t understand. “So, Olivia, what about your family?”
And here we go turning the tide back to me and a topic I’d rather avoid. I want to push forward and demand more information from him, but I decide not to spook him after he finally let me in and that it will be better if I reciprocate and tread slowly where he’s concerned.
“My parents love each other. It hasn’t always been easy between the two of them, but they work really hard at it. There was a time they were separated and my father was with someone else.” I inhale, not wanting to discuss that time.
His lips pinch together as he thinks of what to say.
“Oh? How did that go?” he finally asks.
“About as you can expect.”
“Your mom forgave him?” He crosses his arms across his chest as his forehead creases.
“She did, but it hasn’t been easy. We j
ust found out recently that his time with the other woman resulted in a child.” I watch his eyes widen in disbelief.
“Shit. Are you okay?” he questions, and my shoulders lift.
“I am now. My half-sister is great.”
He nods, listening intently.
“I was in college at the time, so I wasn’t around when shit hit the fan, but it was really hard on my younger sister because our half-sister is actually her best friend.”
His eyes widen. “What? How the hell?”
“It’s a sordid story, but it boils down to my dad didn’t have a clue about her. The woman withheld that and apparently as large as New York is, it’s actually a small city. My sisters went to private school together.”
“Is that why you took the modeling job?”
“It’s part of it. Things just spiraled out of control from there.” I don’t offer any more, and thankfully he doesn’t pry.
“I know all about family issues.”
I raise a brow. “I’ve heard rumors, but I don’t put much stock into what the tabloids say.”
He smiles. “Thank God.”
I smirk. “I’m sure if I read half of the shit they put out there about you, we wouldn’t be sitting here tonight together.”
“I’m wounded,” he teases.
“You should be,” I joke.
His mouth twitches and eventually curves up into a smile, but it’s the look in his eyes that turns my insides to mush. They’re intense. They make silent promises to me. Promises I can’t wait to receive.
I slip off my sandal and slide my toes up his leg. I hear his intake of breath and smile at the reaction. “We should get out of here,” I say breathily.
“Please,” he groans.
I slip my shoe back on and stand, holding out my hand. He takes it, pulling me into him for a kiss. “I can’t wait to get you out of this dress,” he says into my neck.
Red creeps up my neck, coloring my cheeks. The heat is almost unbearable. I don’t know how I’ll make it on the walk back.
We step into the room. My movements halt when Spencer’s footsteps stop. Turning around, I look at him. His face is stern, his eyes smolder. I move toward him, but he lifts his hand in the air to stop me.
“Take your clothes off,” he commands. His voice is husky. Heat spreads in my lower abdomen at the way his gaze penetrates me. It’s as if he’s already undressing me.
Slowly, I strip off my clothes and stand naked before him. My eyes are looking down at the floor.
“Look at me.” His stare is penetrating. “On the bed.”
Lying on my back, my body quivers as I wait. The anticipation of his touch is almost too much for me to bear. His eyes sweep the length of me, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t touch me. I groan.
“Touch me,” I beg.
Spencer’s head shakes at my demand. He takes a step closer. “Patience.” Now at the foot of the bed, his finger touches the skin of my ankle as he pulls my legs apart. “I want it slow. I want to savor you. I want to lick and touch every inch of your body. I want you screaming and thrashing under me.” He sits on the bed between my spread legs. “And then and only then will I give you what you want.”
The soft touch of his mouth moves against my inner thigh as his lips begin to trail up my leg. He crawls all the way up my body, planting kisses until his tongue swipes against my breast, capturing my erect nipple into his mouth. The sensation is too much.
Intoxicating.
Heady.
I want more. Need more.
Spencer answers my silent desires. His hand skims down, settling between my thighs. I buck at the contact.
He chuckles.
“Is this what you wanted, Olivia?” My name on his tongue sounds like a seduction. But I don’t need a seduction; I’m already desperate for him.
His hands continue to explore, parting my swollen flesh and sliding inside. I gasp, panting heavily as his fingers pump in and out of me. When he pushes his digits up, my inner walls clench around him. My head thrashes back and forth as I reach my climax.
After my orgasm ceases, Spencer doesn’t stop his ministrations. Instead, he stokes the fire, setting me ablaze. Through hooded lids, I watch as he removes his hand from me and licks his finger in his mouth. Once it’s all clean, he undresses, grabs a condom from beside the bed and then crawls up my body, teasing my entrance with his hard length. Gripping his shaft, I guide him to where I want him.
He inches himself in then retracts. I want to scream. I want to pull him into me. His eyes meet mine, full of mischief. With one strong thrust, he pushes in and out of my body. Ragged bursts escape. My nails scratch at his shoulders as I brace for each push and pull of his body. He slams in over and over again, moving his hips at a faster clip until I’m flying over the edge.
Three days have passed since we went to Vence. Three glorious days. Spencer spends the days working while I enjoy the beautiful property. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been able to unwind like this. To not have anything to think about other than just being happy. But it’s bittersweet as I know our time together will end soon.
Shaking off the thoughts, I head back inside from the balcony and sit down next to Spencer on the couch. He has files in front of him as he listens to someone speak on the phone. He doesn’t look at me, but his hand lifts and lays on my forearm, the pads of his fingers making circles on my skin.
“Okay, find out for me,” he says before putting the phone away. “So what do you want to do today?”
I turn my head and look up at him. ”Are you speaking to me?”
“Who else would I be speaking to, Olivia?” He has the most delicious smirk I have ever seen and I just stare at him loving the way his eyes watch me. “So what do you want to do today?” he repeats pulling me from my thoughts.
“Wow, Mr. Lancaster. You’re letting me choose? How very gracious of you.” He shuts me up by placing his mouth on mine and I laugh into his lips.
“I let you choose all the time. Everyone else, no. I call the shots,” he responds as he pulls away from me.
“Can’t always be the boss.”
He chuckles at that. “Oh no, Olivia, I’ll always be the boss.” His voice is husky, his gaze dancing over my skin and making me feel all warm and tingly inside. “So what’s it going to be?”
“How far are we from Provence?” I joke, knowing it’s too far for us to go when he has so much work to do.
“Is that what you want to do?” He starts to fiddle with his phone.
“You have to work,” I reply. Secretly hoping and praying that he doesn’t.
“I don’t have to do anything today. Only what I want. And today, I want to go to Provence with you.” He stands up and walks out of the room.
An hour later I’m dressed and standing at a heliport in Nice.
“I can’t believe you rented us a helicopter.”
“You said you wanted to go to Provence, so come on. Let me help you up.”
He helps me in and buckles me up. Once we’re both seated in the back, he reaches out and takes my hand in his. Our fingers entwine, his lip pulls up into a relaxed smile. It’s a smile I’ve never seen on him before, the way it cracks his face makes him look younger, peaceful.
Through beautiful scenery we hold hands, and I watch as we pass over quaint towns on our journey. When we land, I’m even more shocked to see a driver and car waiting for us. And not just any car. It’s a Mercedes Maybach.
“Bonjour, Mr. Lancaster, je suis François. Je serai votre chauffeur pour la journée. Voici le colis que vous avez demandé. ” I have no idea what the driver says to Spencer, but he hands Spencer a small nondescript brown bag before opening the back door for us.
Stepping into the back seat of the Maybach, we begin the short drive to the vineyard Spencer has arranged for us to tour. We drive through tiny roads that weave in and out of lavender fields. Purple stretches into the horizon. It’s like a dream.
When we arrive at the family run vineyard
near the village of Sault, we’re greeted by a handsome older man. He looks to be in his early sixties, salt and pepper hair surrounding his tanned and weathered face. He shows us to a rustic rough iron table set in the midst of sprawling hills, and in the far distance, mountains loom. The sun beats down on us, and the air is thick with the scent of flowers. The man walks away and when he returns he places a series of flight glasses in front of us, I smile at all the wine that we are going to be tasting.
“This is perfect.”
“I knew you’d like it.”
“Like it? I love it. Rosé is my favorite. I can’t wait to taste all of these.”
He lifts his chin. “Noted.”
For the next hour, we sit and sip the wines. We talk of nothing important but everything. He makes me laugh. Makes me smile. He listens to me intently, as if he finds me interesting, as if I’m more than my profession, more than my face. He can see past the walls of perfection I hide behind. It’s unnerving and exhilarating all at the same time.
When I put down my most recent glass, I see Spencer staring at me intently.
“I bought something for you,” he says.
“You didn’t have to buy me anything.”
“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.”
“When?”
“I have my ways.” He winks. Reaching into the bag the driver gave him, he pulls out a tiny snow globe.
“For your collection.”
It might be small, but the gesture makes my heart race.
The next morning, I wake once again to an empty bed. This has become an everyday occurrence since I’ve known Spencer Lancaster, but this time I hear Spencer’s voice as it carries through the villa.
“That’s fantastic news. Thank you for getting back to me. I’ll have the money wired by the end of today.”
I try to pretend like I’m sleeping as Spencer comes waltzing in. I don’t want him to think I was eavesdropping.
“Get up, woman. We have some celebrating to do,” he says excitedly.
“Is that so?” I say, popping upright. “To what do I owe this pleasant mood?”