"Well, are you going to leave me hanging?"
"No, of course not," he snipped. "But I am going to wait till we have a little privacy."
He didn't say anything after that, and I was left to look at him, dumbfounded.
My mind wandered to that damn note stuck to my door. I was getting a sinking feeling in my stomach that Spencer knew what was going on.
I knew that there were some disgruntled ex-employees upset with him, but exactly what lengths would they go to? It was one thing to spread some stories and spill a little tea but to resort to threats of violence?
As we drove across town to his place, my mind spun through a countless number of mafioso-type scenarios about the people after Spencer, Penny, and/or me.
We made it to his place relatively quickly since it was so early on a weekend morning and there was little traffic.
I didn't even get a chance to thank the driver, that poor man. My mother would be appalled, as she raised me to have manners in any situation. But Spencer was too upset, and his fingers closed around my wrist. He practically dragged across the seat, so I came out the same side of the car as he did. He practically acted as a human shield, hovering over me as we walked into the building.
"Are there snipers on us or something?" I whispered angrily as he led us to an elevator.
He looked at me strangely. "Please, don't be so dramatic."
I barked out a laugh and looked at him incredulously. "You're kidding, right?"
The elevator dinged our arrival to our chosen floor, and the doors opened to a small foyer. He herded me to another door that he slipped his key into, then ushered me inside.
Briefly, I was distracted by what met my eyes. Most of it was what I expected for somebody like Spencer: cold and austere, clean, smooth lines on the furniture, not much color. But the décor choices surprised me. There was gorgeous photograph after gorgeous photograph lining the walls. Mostly, they were in black and white, but the images were amazing.
I never took Spencer for much of a collector, but apparently, Penny wasn't the only Ashbury who could appreciate art.
As soon as the door shut behind Spencer, however, he had no interest in indulging my urge to check out the art hanging on his walls.
"Now, why the hell didn't you answer your phone last night? I mean, I know you're not my biggest fan, but you could have at least let me know that you were alive."
I looked at him curiously. "Um, did it ever occur to you that I turned my phone off?"
He looked at me like I was insane. "What do you mean, you turned your phone off? Nobody does that anymore, especially not someone your age."
I huffed out a laugh. "Ageist much? If you must know, I always turn off my phone when I'm working on my sculptures. I don't like any distractions."
"Yeah, all that's a habit you're going to change right about now."
I raised up to my full height, wishing I had a few more inches on me to help me to be more intimidating. It was hard to be too ominous at five foot three inches, but I tried, anyway. "Now, you listen to me, buddy. While I might have agreed to this whole fake fiancée bullshit for Penny's sake, that does not mean that you get to boss me around now. I will turn my phone off whenever I damn well please."
"The hell you will, not when there's somebody who could be watching you."
The last few words made me still. "Like who?
He seemed to deflate slightly. "I don't know. That's what I'm trying to find out."
"You can’t actually mean that somebody's watching me."
He flopped down onto the couch, leaning forward so that his elbows were resting on his knees. "Somebody's watching us," he said, emphasizing the last word. "As in you, me, and Penny. Hell, probably Terrence and Ralph, too, for all I know."
Nervous, my hand reached into my bag, fingering the folded piece of paper that had been taped to my door. I really didn't want to ask him, but I knew I had to. I slipped the note from the bag. "Does it have anything to do with this paper I found taped to my apartment door this morning?"
His head snapped up sharply. "Somebody left you a note?"
I nodded miserably and produced the paper, handing it to him.
He read it quickly and let out a nasty curse.