Page 47 of Two of a Kind
That his father thought him so incapable only strengthened his conviction. “I’ll manage.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with the travel agent, does it?”
Spencer paused, his hand on the doorknob, his blood chilling quickly. “Travel agent?”
“The one you’re sleeping with. What is her name?” The sound of shuffling papers was clearly audible in the silence. “Ah, yes. Kayla O’Connell.”
Spencer closed his eyes briefly, took a moment to control his features, and then turned around. He immediately wished he hadn’t. Even from across the spacious office, he could see the glossy photographs his father was extracting and carefully arranging on his desk.
His feet carried him closer. He didn’t want to look, but he had to.
It was even worse than he had thought. Pictures of him and Kayla together in explicit detail. In the elevator at Sate. In the massage room. And, more recently, photos showing Kayla pulling him into her house. Sitting next to each other at the overlook, eating ice cream.
“You have me followed? Under surveillance?” he asked quietly. The adrenaline coursing through his body had turned to liquid fire; his excitement to white-hot rage. “I am yourson.”
“A son who I have warned many times about the importance of discretion. You are not some common local. You are the CEO of this company. Someone isalwayswatching.”
Spencer’s mind raced. Who had betrayed him? He had handpicked every member of the Sate staff, wanting to avoid this very thing. Absolute privacy was something he guaranteed his guests. The freedom to indulge without judgment, without fear of publicity—it was the very foundation of his baby. Without it, Sate was nothing more than just another expensive resort.
He looked into his father’s eyes and saw them glistening with triumph. His father only had that look when he knew he had won. The old man had hedged his bets. Again.
“I let you have your fun, Spencer, but that stops now. You will marry Chelsea. Together, you will set the course for DCII—Dumas Chamberlain Industries, Incorporated. And you will not see Ms. O’Connell again.”
Spencer’s fists clenched at his sides. “That isnotfor you to decide.”
His father looked at him. If Spencer didn’t know better, he would swear he could almost see pity in the old man’s eyes, but he had to be mistaken. His father didn’t do pity.
Spencer blinked through the red haze and looked again, finding only certain victory.
“Perhaps not, but I’m sure she will agree.”
If Spencer thought his blood had gone cold before, it was nothing compared to the ice jams that had formed and were lodged in there now. His father was too smug, too knowing.
“What did you do?”
“I simply provided her with a counteroffer.”
A counteroffer? To what?
A ray of hope formed. Kayla had been the one to walk away from him, which meant she might also have the wherewithal to tell his father exactly what he could do with his “counteroffer.”
“And if she refuses?”
A cold smile spread across his father’s face. “She won’t refuse, Spencer.”
