Billionaire Romance: Spencer's Obsession (A Seductive Alpha Billionaire Romance Book 1) (9 page)

              “Holy effing shit! Em...I don't even know where to start or what to say. How could you not tell me any of this?” Bridget yelled as we pulled into the garage back at our townhouse.

              “I'm sorry. I know that you're my best friend...but this isn't stuff that you just bring up in casual conversation. I didn't know how to say any of it,” I explained, tears streaming down my face. I had basically cried the entire car ride home and Bridget had listened without saying a word. Not because she didn't have anything to say, but probably because she was in shock. She asked me more than once if I was joking.

              “You think? Jesus, Emily. This is serious shit,” she said in disbelief.

              “I know,” I whispered, crying again.

              Bridget put the car in park and turned the ignition off. “Come here,” she said, pulling me close to her. “I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at the situation and all I want to do is cut Calvin's nuts fucking
off,”
she seethed, which made me laugh because I knew she was completely serious.

              “I know you do,” I giggled, wiping my eyes and pulling away. Bridget really was the greatest friend a girl could ask for and I didn't tell her that enough. “I love you, Bridge.”

              “I love you, too,” she replied. After a few moments of silence she continued, quieter, “Are you going to go to the cops?”

              I thought for a moment and finally shook my head no. “I can't. I mean, it's Spencer's brother. And not only that, but it's been too long now. There's no way a rape kit would pick it up—especially now that I've had sex with Spencer, too. God, I'm such a whore,” I lamented and buried my face in my hands.

              “Hey, shh. You are not.
You
didn't do anything wrong here. It's that sick bastard who should be castrated for what he did to you. I mean, I get that he's Spencer's brother and all, but Jesus...he's got issues and he really deserves to be punished,” Bridget replied, clenching her jaw tightly.

              “Can we just go inside? I'm exhausted and I really just want to crawl into my own bed and sleep all of this off,” I sighed.

              “Of course. I'm sorry. Give me just a sec,” Bridge replied as she came around and opened my car door to help me to the house.

              “I think I'm going to sleep for the next 100 years,” I declared as Bridget unlocked the door to the house and we went inside. “And I'd be okay if I never have to see Spencer or his evil brother ever again,” I said. And in that moment, I really meant it.

*****

              Twelve weeks had passed since I had seen or even talked to Spencer. That's not to say that he hadn't tried to get in touch with me—he'd called and texted. My cell phone, my work phone, Bridget's phone, the house phone. He had driven by and rang the doorbell to “drop off Bridget's dress,” he had sent flowers, chocolates and love notes. He had even showed up at my college graduation in hopes that  he could corner me, but I had successfully avoided him there, too. Honestly, there wasn't an avenue he hadn't exhausted to try and see me. Or so I thought.

              Because I hadn't been able to go to the police about what had happened to me, Spencer's brother was still out there. And I couldn't take the chance of him being around when I was at the office or at Spencer's house. I mean, supposedly he lived in Chicago, but I had no way of knowing for sure.

              All of these unanswered questions and the way I'd had to end things with Spencer left me with horrible bouts of anxiety and borderline depression, but I was lucky that I had Bridget to help me through it.

              As I sat on our giant wraparound couch that was a “gift” from Bridget's parents, she sprang into the living room and bounced over to me.

              “My dearest, Emily Anne,” she cooed as she sat down next to me. “It has been nearly three long months that you've spent in mourning. And I get it, I really do. But I think it's time for you to move on. We need to go have some fun and take your mind off of everything.”

              I groaned and gave her a look. I wasn't
ready
to move on from Spencer...and besides, I'd been feeling like crap lately. I wasn't sure if it was from my anxiety or if I had the flu, but I was feeling sick to my stomach nearly all the time and I felt achy all over—especially my breasts.

              “Don't give me that look,” she continued. “We're going to a party tonight at Fitzgerald's whether you like it or not,” she beamed. “We're leaving in two hours.”

              Before I could protest, she left. Just like Bridget: coercing me into things that I didn't want to do. But maybe she was right. I mean, it had been more than a month since I had been anywhere but the grocery store and my bed. I was starting to look and feel pretty grungy and at least this would give me an excuse to take a shower.

              I forced myself to get up off of the couch and made my way to my bedroom. As I was getting undressed to go take a shower I lifted my arm over my head and took a sniff.
Oh, my God. No wonder Bridget is so desperate for me to snap out of it.
I smelled like absolute filth and the stench made me gag.

              I walked to the bathroom down the hall and started the water running on extra hot. As I let the water warm up, I stared in the bathroom mirror at my naked body. Over the past few weeks I had experienced such mixed emotions. Things that I didn't even tell Bridget because I felt like they were just too personal. As I examined myself, I replayed the last (and only) night I'd ever had with Spencer and my eyes started welling up with tears—crying seemed to be unavoidable for me, lately.

              As the mirror steamed up, I realized the water was ready and so I climbed into the shower, letting the stinging hot drops of water pound on my back, my neck, all over. I missed Spencer so much that it hurt, but I knew that there was no way I could ever explain what had happened and why I disappeared from his life
without
telling him about Calvin. And I didn't want to do that. I couldn't. So, I had decided, being apart from him was the only way.

              I finished my shower and then made my way back to my bedroom to get dressed and put my makeup on. This ritual felt so foreign now. It had been so long since I'd actually put on a proper outfit or worn makeup that I felt like an alien in my own body.

              As I was putting the finishing touches on my hair and makeup, I felt a presence in my doorway. I looked up to see Bridget smiling at me.

              “Wait, where’d Emily go?” she teased.

              “Ha. Ha. You're so funny. But in all seriousness: I'm sorry I've been so...
gross
lately,” I frowned at her.

              “It's okay. Although, I do have to be honest: I was starting to get a little worried that you would soon become fused to the couch cushions if you didn't snap out of it,” she confessed, making a face.

              I laughed and met her at the doorway, bumping her out of the way with my hip. “You know, I think tonight is going to be good for me,” I said, then stuck my tongue out at her. “Last one to the car has to pay for drinks,” I screamed and took off running to the garage.

              Fitzgerald's was one of the most popular nightclubs in LA and definitely
not
my scene. It was known for its out-of-control celebrity parties and everyone and their brother was dying to get in; tonight was no exception. Luckily, Bridget was friends with some A-list celeb's daughter that she had gone to high school with, which meant we were on the guest list. Well, Bridget was—I was just her plus one, but whatever.

              I never really understood the appeal of clubs—the music was always too loud to have a conversation, people were always in your space and creepy guys were everywhere waiting to pounce. But maybe that was just because I hated being around other humans.
Tonight,
I vowed to myself,
I am going to make an effort to have fun and meet people.

              As we made our way inside the dark, loud, sweaty club I vaguely heard Bridget yell something to me, but I couldn't understand what she was saying.  The next thing I knew she had been swallowed up by the black hole that was the crowd.

             
Great, this is exactly why I hate these places,
I scoffed to myself. I looked around in the darkness, broken up by strobe lights and tried to decide what to do. Finally, I found the bar and pushed my way over to it. “Don't they have a max capacity here? Because I'm pretty sure they've surpassed it,” I shouted to no one but myself. Or at least that's what I thought.

              I heard someone laugh to my left and I looked beside me at the bar. It was a guy who looked to be in his late twenties. He was handsome, but the superficial kind of handsome that most likely meant he was still living off his parents' money and crashing in a guest house on their property. The kind of guy who didn't have to
do
anything, stuff just sort of happened
for
him. And I really really didn't like those kinds of guys.

              I glared at him. “Can I
help
you?”

              He laughed again, then leaned over to my ear and said, “You're pretty entertaining. If you hate clubs so much, then why are you here, gorgeous?”

              I groaned. “Really? Could you try a
little
harder to be original?” I accused, rolling my eyes.

              Nothing I said seemed to phase him, because he simply laughed again and said, “Here, let me be even more cliché: I'll buy you a drink.”

              I just stared at him, waiting. I wasn't going to say yes to the offer, but I wasn't going to turn it down, either. I mean, a free drink is a free drink. Besides, I was no longer a “working girl” and $15 cosmos were no joke.

              He smirked. “That's what I thought. What do you like?”

              I shrugged and smirked right back.

              “Alright. Playing hard to get. I like it,” he said, nodding, then with a flick of his wrist he called the bartender over. It was kind of insane how easy it was for him to order drinks. I mean, I'd been standing here for over five minutes and hadn't even been acknowledged. “My man, we need six shots of Liquid Cocaine!”

              The bartender nodded and got busy pouring the liquor. “Uhm...I'm not sure who you ordered all those shots for, but if you think I'm drinking those, then you're crazy.” I said matter of factly. “Besides I don't even know your name!”

              He laughed and said, “Fair enough. I'm Eli,” and offered me his hand to shake.

              I extended my hand and gave him my fingers, not wanting to make too much contact with a Creepy Club Dude. “Nice to meet you. I'm Emily,” I said, deadpan. “And I'm serious. I'm not drinking all those. Just one,” I stated, holding up my index finger as the bartender delivered all six shots to our end of the counter.

              “Oh, come on now. You can't let me drink alone. That would just be sad,” Eli grinned at me, showing off a set of the whitest teeth I'd ever seen. He handed a shot to me and then grabbed one for himself. He raised it up and said, “Alright, on three. 1, 2, 3...”

              I tipped my shot up and held my head back to avoid having the liquid touch my tongue. I really wasn't a huge fan of liquor, but my goal tonight was to have fun and drown my sorrows and this seemed perfect.

              I slammed the shot glass down on the counter and wiped my mouth, coughing at the kick of liquor in the back of my throat.

              Eli laughed and said, “Good girl!”

              I looked at him, incredulous, “You didn't take your shot?!”

              “I was testing you, to be sure you were going to do yours,” he explained slyly.

              “Hey! You snake. That's not fair. We need a re-match!” I shouted at him. I grabbed another shot glass, already feeling more confident with the buzz I had going on.

              “Okay, fair enough,” Eli said, leaning closer to me. Despite the fact that I hadn't seen him take a sip of anything, he already smelled like liquor. “Ready?”

              I nodded, biting my lip. “1...2...” he looked at me, making sure I was going to do it and then said, “3!” We both threw our shots back and wiped our mouths.
Blech,
I thought to myself. I really hated alcohol, but this was just a means to an end.

              Eli looked at me and put his hands on my shoulders, “Are you okay, baby?” I knew I was a lightweight, but I refused to look that inexperienced so I pushed down my feelings of nausea and shook my head yes.

              “Yeah, I'm fine,” I lied.

              “You want to keep going? There's still three shots here with your name on them,” Eli offered.

              I nodded and bit my lip, hiding a smile.

              “That's my girl,” he said as he rubbed his palm on my lower back. And in that moment I couldn't help but think of Spencer. That was what
he
used to call me... “his girl.” I really really missed him and there was no way around it, but I shook the thought out of my head as best I could.

              Tonight was about moving on, like Bridget said. I needed to just have fun. So I grabbed another shot glass and pressed it to my lips, tipping my head back. I closed my eyes and grimaced at the slight burn I felt as the hot liquid trailed its way through my insides.

              Eli kept encouraging and coaching me after each shot I took, laughing at every face I made and how talkative I was becoming. “You're doing great, babe,” I heard him say in my ear as the room started spinning. It was getting harder to hold myself up and I felt his hands on me, helping me up onto a bar stool.

              “Bartender, four more please!” Surely Eli wasn't ordering more. I was already past the point of buzzing and I was starting to feel downright ill.

              “How many...shots have I…had?” I slurred. I could feel my body swaying in my chair and I didn't know if I'd be able to hold myself up.

              “Buddy, she doesn't look so good,” I heard a man say next to me.

              “
You
don't look so good,” I hissed sloppily in his direction.

              Eli laughed and I heard him say, “She's fine. Mind your own business, man.”

              “Alright, baby. Just one more. I know you can do it,” Eli said, holding a sour smelling shot of liquid up to my mouth. The smell made me gag and I felt like I might throw up, but I tipped my head back anyway and opened my mouth for him.

              Eli poured the shot down my throat and I swallowed it obediently. I had had so much to drink that I no longer felt the burn or tasted anything—it was like I was taking shots of water.

              “Thanks for the drinks,” I slurred, hanging onto Eli.

              “No problem, baby. Why don't we get out of here, huh? You look tired,” he said gently as he brushed some hair out of my face. “How does that sound?”

              I nodded, “I am. So tired.” I was starting to feel tingly and numb all over and I felt such a relief when Eli picked me up in his arms and started carrying me to the exit.

              “So noisy,” I mumbled and Eli laughed.

              “I know it, baby. I'm gonna get you out of here. We can go take a nap,” he said in my ear.

              As I nodded, my head rolled around loosely and I could see that we were in some type of dimly lit parking garage. Eli stopped in front of an average looking car, not what I had expected him to be driving.

              “Alright, now. I'm going to put you down so I can unlock the car, okay? Do you think you can stand for me, baby?”

              I nodded, but I wasn't sure if I really could. I felt my body become Jello as he put me down, feet first on the concrete floor. I collapsed in a heap next to his car, unable to hold myself up and cried out in pain.

              “Shh, it's okay, baby. Just a minute,” Eli said as he fumbled for his car keys, looking around nervously.

              The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was a man's voice shouting, “What the fuck do you think you're doing with her, you sick bastard?”