Eleven
ELEVEN
SOPHIE
O h my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Liam knows Dominic Moretti. The Dominic Moretti. His river tables are incredible; I'd kill to have one as a dining table. However, that will never happen because he stopped working with private clients almost fifteen years ago. My only shot to get one is either buying one off the black market or stealing one. The choices being: bankruptcy or jail.
If we manage to get a meeting, we might have discussions, and if we do, we could create one-of-a-kind statement tables. My whole body feels like it's bubbling; I'm so excited. The opportunity would be incredible, putting me and the hotel in several interior designer magazines.
“You seem excited.” Liam's voice pulls me out of my daydreaming.
“I am.”
“Great, then let’s keep that attitude while we go meet the contractor.”
He stands up, and I observe him closely. Everything about him exudes casual professionalism—except for the bruises on his face. He wears dark gray suit pants and a perfectly tucked-in black T-shirt. He’s a far cry from the young man I first met many years ago, and even from the person reintroduced to me two years ago. Though always handsome, there’s a newfound maturity and seriousness about him now. But beneath it all, I can still catch flickers of that boyish charm—the glint in his eyes, the subtle quirk of his lips when he’s amused. It’s still there, tucked behind the layers of the man he’s become.
“Ladies first,” he says, holding out his arm toward the open door. I walk out, trying not to focus on how attractive he is. It’s hard. Very hard.
A stunning brunette waits at a table outside the office, and as we approach, she rises to her full height with an air of confidence.
This must be Lilly, his assistant. Wow. She’s gorgeous. I didn’t get a good look at her when I came in this morning, but now? Yeah, she definitely leaves an impression.
Her body is what you'd expect to see on the cover of a magazine—curves in all the right places, full lips, big eyes, thick brown hair. I'm staring at this point, and unfortunately, she notices because when our eyes meet, her eyebrows scrunch in a curious expression.
“Hi, we’ve spoken on the phone, but we’ve never been introduced. I’m Sophie, the interior designer. It’s lovely to connect a face to the voice.” I reach out my hand to shake hers, but it takes her a few seconds before she slowly puts hers in mine. As if she’s reluctant to touch it. It’s weird. Did I say something wrong? Or was it the way I was staring? Great, just what I need—to make her uncomfortable without even realizing it.
“Lilly.” That’s the only thing she says before she turns to Liam. “Mr. Ayoub, do you need anything?”
“No, Lilly, I’m alright. Sophie and I are heading to our meeting now, and then I’m off to the rest of the appointments. Did you set them up in my calendar?”
“I did.”
“Thank you.” Liam offers her a small, appreciative smile, then gently places his hand on the small of my back, his touch warm and reassuring. “Let’s get going, Soph.” The brief contact sends an unexpected shiver up my spine and I stiffen, every nerve in my body suddenly alert to the touch. I should not react like this anymore. It has to stop. He must have noticed because he quickly removes his hand, shoving it into his pocket. A wave of disappointment washes over me, and for a fleeting moment, I miss the warmth of his touch.
We walk out of the office and down two flights of stairs toward what will soon be the grand lobby of the hotel. Each step of my high heels echoes against the luxurious mahogany wood floors that have already been laid out. It’s the perfect hue for that extra air of elegance and warmth.
Workers carefully hoist an opulent chandelier into place, its countless crystals catching the light and scattering tiny rainbows across the room. The piece is massive, commanding attention with its sheer grandeur—a true centerpiece that will no doubt be the talk of the guests once they arrive. They’ve been working at an insane speed; when I got here this morning, the chandelier was nowhere to be seen.
All around, there are sounds of construction–distant hammering, the murmur of workers coordinating, and the faint hum of machines. Amid the controlled chaos, we spot the contractor they’ve hired to bring the vision to life.
Liam leads the way, his posture straight. He gives me a quick glance, and I can see the determination in his eyes. His gaze flickers with intensity, the kind that speaks volumes without a word—this project is clearly important to him, maybe even on a personal level. I’m not the only one who wants to prove myself here.
“Brian, this is Sophie,” Liam introduces me to the contractor with a slight nod in my direction. “She’s the interior designer I mentioned. Sophie, this is Brian, our contractor.”
Brian is tall and commanding, his frame towering over us as he extends a firm, reassuring hand for introductions.
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Sophie,” he says with a nod, his eyes assessing me with professional appraisal. “I've heard good things about your work. Looking forward to bringing this vision to life.” I quickly dart my eyes to Liam, who gives me a discreet nod.
I return his handshake, noting the calluses on his hands that must speak of years spent in construction and design. “Likewise, Brian. I'm excited to start working on this project.”
With introductions complete, Liam gestures toward the drafting table set up nearby. “Should we take a look at what’s been planned so far?”
Brian nods, a faint smile cracking through his otherwise solemn demeanor. “Let’s get started.”
I follow them toward the table but come to an abrupt stop as realization dawns. Something is missing.
Dammit.
“I left my bag upstairs—it has my portfolio and all my notes,” I admit, frustration creeping into my voice as I realize I’ve left the most important piece for this meeting behind.
Liam turns to me, his brows furrowing slightly, “Do you want me to grab it for you?” I shake my head, smiling gratefully. “No, it’s okay. Sorry for this. I’ll be right back.”
Turning on my heel, I head back up the stairs toward the room set up as the office. But, just as I’m about to enter, I hear Lilly’s voice and pause, hiding behind the door frame.
“Exactly! I mean, he’s rich and ridiculously hot—it’s like hitting the jackpot.”
I freeze in place, my stomach twisting as I realize she’s talking about Liam. Peeking cautiously, I see her spinning lazily in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger like it’s a reflex.
A burst of laughter escapes her, sharp and self-assured, and I shrink further into my hiding spot. “Oh, absolutely, it’s on purpose,” she purrs into the phone. “You think I don’t know how to get a man’s attention? Trust me, it’s an art… and I’m very good at it.”
My stomach churns at her words, an uncomfortable knot tightening in my gut. This isn’t just casual banter; she’s scheming. The thought of her planning to seduce Liam sends a wave of unease through me—an unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling I’m not ready to admit to. I debate whether to confront her or retreat quietly. Either way, it feels deeply unprofessional.
Should I tell him about this? But then again, it might just be a girl with a harmless crush confiding in a friend. And honestly, who wouldn’t have a crush on Liam? He’s… Well, Liam.
No, I’ll keep this to myself for now—at least until I have more reason to speak up. Besides, what if she denies it outright or, worse, twists it to make me look petty or jealous?
And why do I even care? I’ve been adamant about leaving the past where it belongs. Liam isn’t mine—he hasn’t been for a long time. I’ve made it clear I don’t want anything more. So why does the thought of her even trying to seduce him make my stomach twist like this?
After I picked up my bag, I laid out all my ideas to Brian, and to my relief, he loved them all. He gave us a tour of the rooms and common areas; everything looked incredible. The suits will be so fun to decorate. The deluxe suits will occupy the thirty-fifth floor, with breathtaking views of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline.
We chose the beds and ordered them for all bedrooms. Let me just say that I’d happily spend my last living moments on one of those insanely expensive beds. The ones I chose are plush and incredibly comfortable, and the linens have a higher thread count than I can count.
It finally feels like I made the right decision to resign and start working for myself. That’s not something I usually admit, but this time, I’m actually proud of myself. This is what I’m supposed to do, and I took the leap—even when it scared me. Maybe taking more risks like this is exactly what I need.
“Don’t forget your phone,” Liam says, handing me the cell I left on the table.
As I take it, our hands brush—a fleeting touch, barely there, but enough to send a small jolt through me. My fingers tighten around the cool device, grounding me. I force a smile, but tension coils beneath my skin, taut and restless.
The weight of the day settles heavier now, pressing down on my shoulders, seeping into my limbs. This morning, I moved with purpose, with energy. Now, everything feels slower, heavier—my mind still spinning, a tangle of impressions and mental notes.
Liam doesn’t let the silence stretch. His voice is quieter now, gentler. “I wanted to ask you this earlier. I should have. How’s your dad doing?”
Memories of my last meeting with Dad rush back, and I freeze momentarily, my smile fading as I struggle to compose myself. It’s a sore subject, especially talking about it with Liam.
“He’s…” I start, my voice catching slightly. “He’s doing well,” I manage to say, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. Liam seems to understand that I’m not entirely speaking the truth, but he doesn’t push further, respecting my boundaries.
He steps closer, stopping just an arm’s length away. “Well, no matter what has happened between us, or whether I’m your boss or not, I’m always here. Remember that,” he says softly, his tone laced with genuine concern.
I catch the subtle movement of his hand, his fingers flexing and curling into a fist, as though he’s unsure what to do with them. For a moment, I wonder if he wants to reach out—to touch my arm, my shoulder, something—but holds himself back.
The warmth in his tone wraps around me, offering comfort I didn’t realize I needed. Yet, at the same time, it terrifies me. What if I lean into it? What if it pulls me deeper into a place I’ve been so determined to avoid? My chest tightens, caught in the push and pull between craving his reassurance and dreading what it might unravel—the carefully built walls I’ve fought to keep standing.
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat, grateful for… well, just him. Simply him.
As soon as I step into my apartment, I sink down onto the sofa. Exhaustion envelops me, wrapping me up in a cocoon. Adeline is off on an after work with her colleagues, I’m all alone. The weight of the day presses down on me. Yesterday, my dad didn’t remember me, each moment of forgotten recognition digging a bottomless void in my heart. And today, Liam remembered what I told him about Dad—his consideration slicing through the thick fog that keeps building, cutting through the numbness I've tried to maintain just to function each day.
Tears start to slip down my cheeks, uncontrolled and relentless. Gosh, why am I crying? I’m tired of it. Sitting here in the dim light of my living room, tears streaking down my face over things I can’t change or fix—it’s pathetic. The weight of my own powerlessness suffocates me, pressing against my chest like a vice. I hate it. I hate being so consumed by emotions I can’t control, so swept away by a storm I didn’t ask for.
With a shaky breath, I pull one of Adeline’s mother’s handmade cushions to my chest, hugging it tightly. I try to pour all my sorrow into the soft fabric, wishing it could absorb more than just my tears. But it’s not enough. There’s only one person who might help, a voice that can reach across the miles and touch the ache directly.
With trembling fingers, I reach for my phone and dial Leora’s number. It rings, and then her voice, ever so warm, fills the silence of my apartment. “Hey, my love.”
“Hey,” I choke out, my voice a mere whisper of its usual tone.
“Soph? What’s wrong?” Her voice is instantly alert, filled with concern.
“I don’t know, at the moment, everything,” I confess, my voice breaking. “Dad’s getting worse, and it’s like I’m losing him piece by piece. And then there's the pressure of work and Liam...” I trail off, not continuing that particular sentence.
“I’m so sorry, Sophie.” Leora’s soft sigh travels through the phone, her empathy palpable. “Your dad is strong, so strong, and he loves you more than anything in this world.”
“I know, but he doesn’t remember that he loves me,” I reply as another tear trails down my cheek.
“Deep down, he does. I promise you he does. But it’s a cruel disease. It steals memories on bad days, but not love. It’s still there, Sophie, even if he can’t express it.”
The comfort in her words is a small balm, but the harsh reality of Dementia keeps a firm grip on my heart. “It’s just so hard. Watching him fade away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
“I can’t imagine how hard it must be.” Her voice is thick with sympathy. “But you’re not alone, okay? I’m here, even if it’s just to listen.”
“I just... I wish I could do something, anything to make things better for him.”
“You are doing something, Sophie. You’re there for him, and that’s more than enough. It’s more than many get.”
Her words encourage me to breathe a little easier, the knot in my chest loosening ever so slightly. “Thank you, Leora. I needed to hear that.”
“Anytime, love. How are you handling everything else? I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you about Liam. I thought it was a good idea, but blindsiding you guys might not have been the best. I just want you two to be friends.” Her words make me laugh a bit. If only she knew how much of a blindside it was.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, I was just so confused when I saw Mr. Ayoub behind the desk and not Lucas.” I manage a chuckle, trying to keep the conversation light.
“It must’ve been quite the surprise,” Leora says, a smile evident in her voice. “But hey, maybe it’s a good thing—a fresh start, perhaps?” Her tone is as hopeful as ever, though I can’t shake the feeling she knows more than she’s letting on.
I hesitate, suspicion creeping in. “It was your idea, wasn’t it?”
There’s a beat of silence before she groans, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Oh, fine! I can’t keep it in anymore. Yes, it was my idea. I’m sorry, okay? I should have told you, but I knew you wouldn’t agree to the project, and it’s such a great opportunity for you. And honestly, you and Liam need to stop being so awkward all the time. Every time we all hang out, you guys just dance around each other. And I want everyone to love each other and just be happy. And I?—”
“Breathe, Leora. It’s okay,” I cut in, holding back a smile. This girl is too much sometimes. “I mean, I wasn’t thrilled at first. But… sure, maybe you’re right.” I pause, letting the words settle before chuckling to myself.
“Enough about this, how are you? How is the pregnancy treating you this time around?” I shift the conversation, eager for something lighter.
“I’m good. This one’s been easier, or maybe I’m more used to the chaos of pregnancy hormones,” Leora responds with a chuckle, “but Lucas has been driving me insane. It’s as if he thinks I’m a porcelain doll, ready to break at any given moment.” She laughs, and I can almost hear her shaking her head. “Listen to this, last week, he followed me around the grocery store, not allowing me even to pick the tomatoes. And if anyone so much as sneezed in the same aisle, he’d give them the death glare like they were threatening the security of France!”
Leora’s recount of Lucas’ overprotectiveness makes me laugh out loud, a genuine belly laugh I hadn’t realized I so desperately needed. “That’s your Lucas, always on guard duty,” I reply, still chuckling. It’s typical of him to turn a simple grocery run into a full-blown mission.
We continue to talk, the minutes bleeding into two more hours. Leora’s voice is a steady beacon. She can always guide me through any storm. This conversation was exactly what I needed to help pull me back from the edge of my own worries. Her stories, filled with warmth and humor, remind me that there is still lightness in the world, even amidst personal trials.
Finally, as my last reserve of energy drains, I murmur, “I’m sorry for calling you this late. You should try to sleep.” It’s about two in the morning for Leora and only eight p.m. for me, but I’m already completely wiped.
“I’m always here, no matter what time. I’m always here for you, okay?” Leora reassures me, her voice a gentle command that makes me miss her even more. What did I do to deserve friends like this?
“Are you hearing me, Sophie? I’ll get on a flight the moment you need me to, and there’s always a room for you here, ” she insists, her determination clear even through the phone.
“I hear you, Leora. Thank you for everything. Goodnight, and please care for yourself and my new niece or nephew.”
“I will. Goodnight.” she replies softly, and we both hang up.
The love I have for her is indescribable. Before my mum left, I never had any siblings, but being lucky enough to have Adeline and Leora is the closest thing to it—and the best gift I could have asked for. Without them, my life wouldn’t be what it is today, filled with so much joy and love I never thought possible.
I curl deeper into the sofa, too tired to move to my bedroom. Her words echo in my mind, a soothing lullaby that helps carry me to sleep.