Chapter 36
“Thank you,” I murmur when Chaz sets down the mugs of cocoa. Each is topped with a heaping swirl of whipped cream, bringing back memories of that frisky encounter we shared in the backroom of his café. It now feels like ages ago.
He nods curtly and takes a seat at the far end of the couch, putting as much distance between us as the small space allows.
If Sophia notices the tension simmering between us, she doesn’t let on.
Her gaze stays fixed on the screen where Beyoncé belts out a soaring ballad, gripping the cushion cradled to her chest like it’s an anchor in the storm.
Another member of Chaz’s family hurt by Townsen Industries.
Not directly by my father this time, but by the man he hired despite all the red flags.
The same man he appears determined to protect.
If you aren’t prepared to contain this, Alexandra, then get out of the way and let Frank handle it. I won’t tolerate any more of your disloyalty.
I didn’t bother arguing. There was no point.
I already knew what I intended to do. It’s the only thing keeping me from sinking into the wreckage of my regret.
Regret that I hadn’t told Chaz sooner. If I had, maybe he would never have asked me out on non-dates.
He might never have kissed me or touched me.
He might never have let himself fall in love with me. Or maybe he still would have.
I’ll never know.
I’d cried so much before leaving Chicago that I was amazed there was any water left in my body. I should have shriveled into a brittle, dehydrated shell. The man I love, the one who used to look at me like I was something special, now looks at me with bitter scorn.
He didn’t even want to let me in tonight. He didn’t want me near Sophia. Knowing how he feels makes me want to burrow beneath my heated blanket and disappear until this ache dulls to something bearable.
“This is my favorite part,” Sophia says, the lift in her voice pulling me from my snowballing thoughts.
She’s why I’m here.
But I’m keenly aware of him—sitting just inches away, quiet and watchful. The steady drumming of his fingers on his knee feels like the ticking of a bomb. I pick up the hot chocolate, my hand shaking. The warmth seeps through my skin, but it does little to thaw the ice of his stare.
Only days ago, I was cuddled up on this very couch with him. His body wrapped around mine, his laughter rumbling in my ear. Now, he feels like a stranger.
And it’s my fault. I just don’t know how to fix it if he won’t even talk to me.
When the movie ends, Sophia shifts in her seat, her fingers twisting the corner of the pillow.
As much as the film provided a brief distraction, whatever happened at that party still has its grip on her.
My heart aches to see how deeply Marshall’s actions have crushed her vibrant spirit, turning her anger inward.
“Do you want to talk about that night?” I venture gently, careful not to push.
Chaz stops tapping, his disapproval like a heatwave. “Soph, you don’t have to,” he cuts in sharply.
“That’s true, you don’t,” I agree, forcing the calm in my voice and focusing entirely on her.
“But I’ve read that the more you talk about something traumatic, the less power it has over you.
In time, it becomes this terrible thing that happened, but it doesn’t define or control you. Does that make sense?”
Nodding, she sits up, the pillow still clutched to her chest. “It’s just . . . so embarrassing. I feel so gullible.”
“Men like Marshall are master manipulators. They prey on trust. You weren’t gullible,” I say. “You admired him, and he took advantage of that.”
Her lips press together, unconvinced, but after a moment, she exhales a tremulous breath. “I don’t even know where to start. When I told C, it just all came tumbling out.”
“Start wherever it feels right,” I encourage, giving her hand a light squeeze.
She takes another deep breath and then begins. “After the dinner, I told you about, Chloe and I were approached by someone from Ignite.”
“Who?”
“A woman. Um . . . Lauren or Laurel. Something like that.”
Laurel. Marshall’s right hand. I file the name away.
“She asked if we wanted to attend an exclusive event Ignite was hosting. She said Drew would be there—that he would be using it to scout for talent. I should’ve clued in, but at the time, it sounded like it could be my big break.”
“Of course, it did. You had no reason to think anything was wrong. Tell me about the party.”
She describes arriving at a penthouse, where phones were confiscated and NDAs were required. The room, she says, was crowded, making it hard to distinguish guests from staff. She noticed six to eight other young women around her age.
“I didn’t drink much. Just one glass of the punch they were serving. It was strong, though. I couldn’t even finish it, but there was always someone there trying to refill my glass.”
Her story matches the complaint so far.
“Did you notice any drugs?”
She shakes her head. “No, but maybe I wasn’t paying attention.”
“That’s okay. Where was Chloe?”
Her gaze drops to her lap. “She didn’t want to come. I know—I shouldn’t have gone alone.”
“No one’s blaming you,” I say, redirecting her eyes back to mine. “When did you meet Marshall?”
“About thirty minutes in, that woman—Laurel or whatever—pulled me aside and introduced me to him. I was so nervous, but he seemed nice. At first.” Her voice cracks, and she clutches the pillow tighter.
“He asked me about school, my interest in advertising, the usual stuff. I told him how much I admired his work. I even gave him examples of campaigns I loved so he’d know I’d done my homework.
When he said he was impressed and wanted to continue our conversation somewhere quieter, I didn’t think twice. ”
Her voice falters, and I lean in. “You’re doing great, Sophia. Can you keep going?”
She nods and takes another breath. “He led me upstairs to one of the rooms. It had a living area, but through the double doors, I saw a bedroom. God, that was so dumb.”
“Hey,” I interrupt firmly. “You’re not responsible for his actions. This isn’t on you.”
Tears fill her eyes, but she continues. “Once we got inside, he offered me another drink. I didn’t take more than a sip.
Something started to feel . . . off. His demeanor changed.
He went from professional to flirty. He complimented my looks.
Said he’d always liked brains and beauty.
He even started playing with my hair, tugging at my twists and pulling me closer.
” She shudders. “He . . . he pressed up against me. He was . . . hard. I felt gross, scared, but I just froze.”
“That happens,” I say gently, though I’m sickened with disgust. I can’t even imagine how difficult it is for her to relive this and for Chaz to hear it again. I don’t look at him, but I can feel his fury vibrating like a subsonic rumble in the room. “Are you okay to keep going?” I ask.
She nods, but her voice grows thinner. “He kissed me. I didn’t kiss him back, but I didn’t move either.
Not right away. It wasn’t until he started touching me—grabbing my ass, his hands and mouth aggressive—that I snapped out of it.
I shoved him away, dropped my glass, and tried to run.
But he caught me before I got out the door.
” Her breathing quickens, the panic of that night resurfacing.
“He blocked the door and wouldn’t let me out.
Called me a bitch and a cock tease. Said I knew what he wanted, and if I didn’t give it to him, he’d blacklist me in the industry. ”
My hands ball into fists. “What happened next?”
“I kneed him just like C taught me. He doubled over, and I ran out.”
Tears stream down her face as I grip her hands tightly. “You were so brave. You fought back.”
She shakes her head. “I was a mess. That woman—Laurel—stopped me. I told her what happened, but she just threatened me with the NDA, saying how I went up to the bedroom, that it’d be my word against his.”
My God. Laurel wasn’t just complicit; she was an accomplice. She was just as the complaint described, not by name, but by her actions. “Sophia, listen to me. He’s a predator, and so is she. You did nothing wrong. You don’t owe them your silence or your compliance. Nothing.”
“But I signed the NDA. I don’t have proof, and they know it.”
“The NDA doesn’t protect him from a crime.”
“A crime?”
“Yes. Quid pro quo sexual harassment is illegal. You’re not his first, but we can make sure you’re a part of stopping him.”
Her tears spill faster now. “But if I report it, he could ruin me. My name, my reputation, they’ll be in shreds before I’ve even started.”
I understand her worries. My heart breaks that she was ever put in this horrible situation. “You don’t have to decide anything now. But whatever happens, you’re not alone. We’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“That’s enough.” Chaz’s jaw sets in stone, his body coiled with tension as he moves in between us.
Everything about him tells me he wouldn’t have left Marshall standing if I hadn’t intervened.
But as he pulls Sophia into his arms, he softens, his hug steady and soothing in a way I’ve come to know well.
When he guides her to her room, I go to the door and slip on my coat, but I don’t leave.
I can’t. I’m still rooted there in uncertainty when he returns.
His gait is heavy, and the worry lines on his usually smooth brow seem deeper.
I want to reach for him, run my hands up his chest, and bury my face in his neck.
I want to hold him close and ease his strain somehow, but I’ve lost that right.
“You didn’t have to stay.”
While there’s no heat to his tone, it still hurts. My fingers tap a nervous rhythm against my thumb. “I know you don’t believe it, but I really do care.”