Page 31 of The Stranger

“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 sixthousand 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. Iblindly 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.”