Chapter 9 Sophia
M ax pops his head out of his office, snapping his fingers to get my attention. “Sophia, can I see you in my office for a minute?”
“Yup,” I say over my shoulder as I grab my planner and a pen, knowing full well this will take longer than a minute. It’s already bad enough I had to stay late on a Friday, now I have to deal with whatever misogynistic comments he’s going to throw my way.
I walk into his office, closing the door before sitting down. “What’s up?”
“This article about Lorenzo Mancini has me pulling my hair. Honestly, I don’t understand why he had to choose you. Sophia, I swear, if you fuck this up…” He shakes his head, not finishing the thought.
All I want to do is grab that Tom Brady signed football that’s sitting front and center on his desk and hurl it at his head for that comment.
Fuck it up? Seriously ? That’s rich coming from him.
People often wonder how he’s the editor-in-chief. There have been rumors he slept with the VP of Vogue Elite , and others say one of his family members is part of the executive board. The way he acts most of the time is questionable at best. Not only that, but he’s always been extremely unprofessional with women. This man is an HR liability. A lawsuit waiting to happen.
“I wonder what you did to have gotten this opportunity,” he murmurs to himself.
Misogynistic asshole , party of one.
I take a deep breath, quickly counting backward. Has this method ever worked for me? Not really. I’m not sure why I keep trying. To keep some of my sanity, I guess. To feel some sort of normality.
I clear my throat. “What can I help you with, Max?”
“Oh, right.” He shakes his head. “Sophia, I cannot stress enough how important this article is.”
I hold back my eye roll. “Yes, I know.”
“Okay, so what do you have planned?”
I’m silently thanking myself for deciding to do all this research. Otherwise, I would have been extremely unprepared, and that’s not the ammunition I want to give Max.
“I know you said you wanted to see behind the scenes of what it’s like to be a billionaire like him. But what if we take it a step further? Talk about his other accomplishments. He’s more than a simple rich man, there has to be a personality and a person behind all of that.”
He starts spinning his pen, pondering for a moment. “This seems risky.”
“High risk, high reward,” I point out. “This is Lorenzo Mancini we’re talking about here. He never speaks to the media. We need to take advantage of this opportunity and go in a different direction.”
To my surprise, Lorenzo has never done an interview. Everything you find online is gossip columns and people spreading rumors. It doesn’t matter how bad it gets, he doesn’t clear anything up. I’ve done enough research to back these claims and show Max the only thing that’s out there are baseless rumors. He has the typical playboy billionaire image. Doesn’t take anything seriously, but it’s successful nonetheless. It’s boring and tasteless. If I’m going to write this article, I want to do it the right way.
“I’ll run it by the higher-ups. In the meantime, you can start.” He points a finger at me. “But I also need you to work on what I originally wanted just in case, and a gossip column, of course. Then we will decide how to move forward. Oh, and before I forget, I need the articles I sent you fully edited and proofread by Monday.”
“Monday?” I ask, my voice taking on a high pitch. “You gave them to me yesterday.”
He drops his pen on the desk, leaning back in his chair. “Can your little brain not handle a tad more work?” He shakes his head with a laugh and murmurs, “Women.”
As I’m about to respond with what is sure to be a retort, my brain stops me.
It’s not worth it.
So I clamp my mouth shut instead. Of course, he’s going to drown me in work. But hey, I’m Sophia Evans, this is what I do. I let certain people walk over me for no apparent reason.
I nod curtly, rising from the chair and striding out of his office. Anger is coming out of my pores, and now I don’t know how I’m supposed to get any work done. I’m so sick of letting people get away with shit. It’s ironic knowing I can be brutally honest and challenging when I want, but I can’t ever seem to put my foot down with certain people. Max is my boss—as in, he can fire me if he wants to. Amelia, well, she’s my little sister. She can be a total bitch, but I have to be the bigger person.
Angry tears fill my eyes, and I sniff, closing my eyes tightly and trying my best to make them go away. I don’t do well with emotions in general—anger, most specifically. It reminds me of my father. There was not a moment of peace at our house because of his unleashed wrath. Mom was always on the verge of a breakdown, Amelia was too little, and I…well, I coped in any way I could. Shutting down, mostly. I’ve learned how to hide my emotions well, so when they show up and try to find their way out, I push them down as hard as humanly possible.
You do not cry.
You do not yield.
You do not show weakness.
You have to be strong. Normal. Fake happy. You’ve done it for years now, what’s one more day?
Shaking my head and straightening my shoulders, I walk to my cubicle, finding the biggest bouquet of blue roses I’ve ever seen. With a frown, I grab the note that’s placed on top of the flowers.
Looking forward to tonight.
-Lorenzo
This is definitely unprofessional territory, but it doesn’t stop my stomach from fluttering as I trace his impeccable handwriting with the tip of my index finger. I put the note back in the envelope, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
We’re having dinner tonight, and that has my body on high alert. I don’t know how he’s going to act, and I also have no idea how I’m going to feel around him. This is gray territory for me, because not only do I have to work with him, but he’s part of my circle now. I’m going to have to see him constantly .
As I’m sitting at my desk to get this endless amount of work done, I hear quick steps and voices approaching our offices. The office door opens, but I’m still flipping papers, not paying any attention to the chaos happening behind me.
“Ma’am, you can’t come in here,” Ethan, our office assistant, says quickly, striding after whoever came in like they own the place.
“Like hell I can’t,” the other voice yells, and the hair on the back of my neck prickles at the recognition of that voice.
Amelia.
My eyes dart upward as I quickly turn around. And there she stands, with a scowl on her face, yelling in the middle of the office.
Cursing internally, I grip her arm firmly and lead her out to the lobby. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, barging in here?” I whisper-shout, looking around for signs of Max. If he gets wind of this, he’ll have a parade with this information.
She gets out of my grip. “You’re not answering my calls.”
I wave my hand around. “I’ve been a little preoccupied. Working myself to the bone to take care of Mom. Remember her?” I ask, my tone heavy with sarcasm. “What am I saying? Of course, you remember her. You called her, pretending you wanted to find out how she’s doing.”
She tenses her shoulders, lifting her chin in a sorry excuse of a challenge. “I hadn’t spoken to her in a while.”
“Stop trying to feed me that bullshit,” I spit.
I take a moment to inspect her. It’s been a while since I last saw her. She’s gotten skinnier, and her hair is a box- bleached color, chopped up unevenly. The bags under her eyes are more pronounced than the last time I saw her, and her blue eyes are dull and lifeless.
“If you’re here for money, I don’t have any,” I continue.
She shakes her head, her eyes darting around, refusing to look me in the eyes as she bites her nails. “I need a place to crash. Miles and I.” She sighs. “We broke up.”
“You two are always breaking up just to get back together,” I say, feigning boredom. “Remind me again how this is my problem?”
I’m not a particular fan of Miles—or this relationship—for many reasons.
“This time is for good.” She sniffs. “He got another bitch pregnant.”
I press my thumb and middle fingers against my forehead, taking a slow breath in and out. “Amelia, no. You can’t stay with me. I don’t have the space or the mental capacity to deal with you.”
Proud of you, girl. Keep going. Stand your ground.
“I don’t want to stay here. The last thing I want to be is around you,” she retorts, crossing her arms. “I want to stay at Mom’s.”
“No,” I hiss, my shoulders tensing. “So help me God, Amelia, if you show up at Mom’s,” I warn.
She tilts her head, her eyes dancing with amusement. “What exactly are you going to do?”
That’s a good question. There’s nothing I can do from here.
“I’m not going to have you come into Mom’s life and disrupt her peace. She doesn’t deserve it,” I say, trying to level with her.
“Okay, so what would you have me do?” she asks, desperation seeping into her voice .
I stroll to the elevators and press the down button. “I don’t know, but I honestly don’t care anymore, Amelia. You’re an adult, act like it .” The doors open, and I get inside. I need to walk away from this situation before my resolve crumbles. “I better not see you when I come back,” I say before the elevator doors finally close.
Once the elevator starts moving, a small, frustrated sob escapes me. It kills me to see Amelia like that. It kills me to know our relationship has gotten so damaged. I barely recognize her these days. I don’t know where I went wrong.
You were just a child yourself, Sophia. You tried your best.
My best was not enough.
I straighten my back, swiping my tears away as I take slow, deep breaths. By the time the doors open, I have a fake smile plastered on my face and step out of the elevator carrying another fresh wound in my heart.
This day has been shaping up to be the worst. The cherry on top? I’m currently getting ready to go have dinner with Lorenzo.
Between Amelia’s visit and the impending dinner, I don’t know what to do with myself. I drowned myself in work today, and it helped for the most part, but Amelia has been texting me nonstop, and it has me on edge. I should’ve known better than to think that was going to be the end of our discussion.
My phone pings with another text. I’m about ready to walk up to Lake Michigan and throw it in. Instead, I make the terrible mistake of looking at it.
Amelia
Are you seriously not going to let me crash at Mom’s? Sophia, come on. You’re being such a bitch.
Amelia
I don’t understand why I even went to you in the first place. You’re still bitter after everything that has happened. It’s been years, move on.
Ha. If anything, I dodged a bullet. It may have broken my heart and made me swear off love in the process, but I can only imagine what my life would be right now if I were still in that situation. It’s not a pretty picture.
My stomach churns, a wave of nausea rolling through me. I breathe in and out through my nose, trying to calm myself down. I throw my phone on the bathroom sink, leaving her message on read.
I grab my perfume and splash some on my wrist and the side of my neck then rub it in.
You’ll cave eventually.
The looming realization hangs in the back of my head like a dark, stormy cloud. I know I’ll cave eventually. Especially because if Mom finds out what sort of trouble Amelia is in, she’s going to start worrying. So I have to go in and clean up the mess so it doesn’t trigger her bad anxiety.
You could give her money to go away .
I would if it was possible. Every dime I have is counted for. Mom’s psychiatrist is not cheap, but he’s the best in the state of Kentucky. Not only that, but I have a maid who goes to clean her house weekly, and a nurse who stays most nights with her. And neither are cheap.
She doesn’t necessarily need someone staying with her anymore—her panic attacks have become less frequent since she’s been religiously taking her medication. But since I don’t live near her, this arrangement gives me some peace of mind. Her anxiety is still severe enough that she needs help with simple tasks like driving to doctor’s appointments and going grocery shopping. When her panic attacks were more frequent, they always happened at night. I can’t blame her—nights at our house were always the scariest. It has always been a trigger for her. I’d rather be safe than sorry, even if it’s more costly.
I don’t mind covering for her things. I’m the eldest daughter. It’s my job to take care of her, and I do it proudly. But I wish I could have something extra and throw it at Amelia so she can get the hell away from us.
I glance at the mirror, applying some lip gloss. I opted for a simple short, long-sleeved navy-blue dress with four-inch beige heels. My hair is in my usual soft waves, and my ears are adorned with my usual small gold earrings.
My phone rings with an incoming call, and I groan in frustration, because I know Amelia will keep insisting if I don’t answer. Without looking at the screen ID, I pick it up. “ What ?”
“Whoa. Feisty .”
“Oh.” I let out a sigh of relief at Lorenzo’s voice on the other line. “It’s just you.”
“Just me? Please, you hurt me,” he says through a hearty laugh. “I was calling to let you know I’m downstairs.”
“Okay, I’ll be right down,” I reply quickly and hang up.
Looking in the mirror one last time, I give myself a much-needed inner pep talk .
Okay, Sophia. This is a normal, professional dinner. So what if you slept with him already? It was a random one-night stand. No need to be nervous. And no engaging in unprofessional activities.
Walking outside, I spot Lorenzo leaning against his car. My knees, those two little traitorous bitches, tremble slightly, and I stumble like the idiot I am at the sight of him. He’s wearing a dark-gray suit with a black button-down shirt, a few buttons left open. His hair is ruffled, and the look is so unmistakably him. I find myself staring at him like an idiot.
What are you doing ogling him, Sophia? Keep your cool.
My back stiffens as I stand before him and nod courtly.
His gaze locks onto mine with an intensity that sends shivers through me, igniting a storm of butterflies in my stomach.
“Hi, Blue,” he rasps.
The moment is shattered by his choice of words, causing me to roll my eyes. “Will you ever call me by my name?”
“Nah. I think Blue suits you better.” He shrugs casually, closing the distance between us, the gap now small enough for me to catch a hint of his intoxicating cologne. His eyes roam over my body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. It’s magical, the way Lorenzo can make me feel so much with a simple look. No one has ever been able to do that, and I don’t know what to do with this newfound information.
He breathes in softly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “You look stunning.”
I pat his chest twice, internally chastising myself for touching him as an annoying charge of electricity courses through my veins. “That comment was completely inappropriate and a violation of our deal. ”
He raises his eyebrows, his eyes flickering with amusement. “What deal?”
“The deal where this needs to remain professional.” For some godforsaken reason, my hand still lingers on his chest. The rapid rhythm of his heart beats against my palm, filling me with a strange sense of satisfaction.
Do I make him nervous? Interesting.
He scrubs his face with a small laugh then places his hand on top of mine, grasping it softly. “Funny, because if memory serves me right, we never spoke about this.”
“Because it was an unspoken agreement, of course,” I reply weakly, the feel of his hand on top of mine rattling me to my very core.
“Mmm,” he hums huskily, a smile tugging at his lips. His gaze lingers on my lips, and the look he has right now is anything but professional.
My breath hitches as his irises darken with an inexplicable fire, and our chests start heaving in sync. A wave of energy ripples through me, making every nerve in my body tingle. The tension that’s quickly building and crackling between us is practically screaming at me to close the little distance and kiss him.
He’s even closer now. His intense gaze roams every corner of my face, leaving me feeling raw and exposed. I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath, trying to kick away this exhilarating feeling. His other hand reaches out slowly, tracing my neck and collarbone with his thumb, leaving a trail of goosebumps. I open my eyes slowly, meeting his gaze, and my heart falters for the slightest moment. The way he’s looking at me now is something I’ve never experienced before. It’s not a look I can recognize, but it makes me feel exuberant nonetheless.
Before I know it, he takes a step back, taking his warmth away from me and dropping my hand. That brings me back to reality and I hastily take two steps back, wanting even more distance between us.
Oh, God. Here you are babbling about being professional and you almost kissed the man.
With a small, playful grin he opens the passenger door. “What about this?” He gestures at the car door. “Can I open it for you? I don’t want you to think I’m propositioning you. I’m just trying to be a gentleman,” he says with a teasing tone.
“Oh, yes, because you’re known for that,” I quip before getting in his car.
Lorenzo tilts his head, his mouth agape for a moment, before laughing. His laugh is so full of life and promises, it makes my stomach flip. It’s like I’ve been transported back to high school when I had my first crush.
Snap out of it, Sophia.
If only it were that easy.