Page 48 of The Stranger
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 somethingI’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 inhand, 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.”
