Chapter Five
Soph hesitated at Luie’s door when she heard the low hum of conversation from within. By the sounds of it, there were more people than just her cousin and her Nona and she groaned aloud before knocking.
“Who’s here?” She demanded when Luie opened the door. Her cousin pushed Hash back with her foot and stepped aside to let Soph in.
“Maria and Marco,” Luie responded. She looked both amused and apologetic. Soph rolled her eyes as she kicked off her shoes and headed down the hallway.
“Sophia!” Nona declared as Soph entered the kitchen. Nona was red-cheeked, and she raised her wineglass in greeting to her granddaughter. Soph suppressed a sigh. Nona was drunk.
“Sophia, come va?” Maria greeted. The woman - not as old as Nona, but still past her prime - looked as if she’d had too much to drink as well. Certainly the last time Soph had seen her, when she’d resigned from Maria’s coven, Maria hadn’t been so amicable.
“I’m well, thanks, Maria,” Soph replied politely. She kissed Nona’s cheeks, then Maria’s. Finally, she stood before Marco.
She’d never met him before - though she had heard plenty about him from Nona - and she was under no illusions as to why he’d been invited to dinner.
“Hello, Sophia,” he said, sounding blessedly un-Italian as he reached out to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Just Soph is fine. It’s nice to meet you too,” she replied with a smile, taking him in with a sweeping gaze. In all her ramblings about Marco, Nona could have mentioned how good looking he was with his black curly hair and tanned skin. His eyes were lighter, almost a hazel colour.
“Sit by Marco, Sophia,” Nona advised with barely constrained enthusiasm. Marco and Soph exchanged a pained look before Marco pulled Soph’s chair out for her. Luie placed bowls of pasta, sauce, and salad on the table, and Nona and Maria began bickering in Italian.
“Sorry about my daggy work clothes,” Soph told Marco. “Nona never tells us when she’s bringing guests to dinner.”
Marco’s lips quirked in a charming smile. “She often invites men and their mothers to meet you?”
“Not so often,” Soph grumbled, accepting the glass of wine that Luie handed her. She took a long sip. “But it happens more than it should.”
“Ah well,” Marco smiled at her, “if it’s any consolation, I thought Mother was taking me to a new therapist.”
“You see a therapist?” She shouldn’t judge, but she was. Good looks might be all he has going for him. His smile turned to a grimace.
“I have mummy issues,” he explained. “Or in her words, I’m a selfish bastard who never visits and I’m breaking her heart.”
Soph snorted. “I bet she says you get it from your son of a bitch father, too.”
Marco spread his hands wide. “I can’t believe that there aren’t more divorces in that generation. It’s like a prerequisite of marriage to hate your spouse.”
“Sophia,” Nona piped up, lips stained red with wine. “You’ll marry Marco?”
“Nona,” Soph groaned, pressing her face into her hands, “that’s not how it works!”
Despite her embarrassment at her grandmother’s frankness, Soph found she actually liked Marco. Mummy issues aside, she discovered he owned a townhouse in Braxton - not the wealthiest suburb, but it was up there - and he worked at a mid-sized marketing company, one that he’d co-financed to get off the ground. He also confessed to being a bit of a gym junkie in his downtime and admitted to running a fitness social media account.
In fact, Soph enjoyed dinner with Marco so much that it was past midnight when she finally walked back in the door to her apartment in the city. She kicked off her shoes with a tired sigh and dropped her handbag on one of the leather armchairs. Despite how late it was, she followed her usual routine of a hot shower and comfy pyjamas, followed by a scour of the fridge for a late-night snack before settling on opening a bottle of red wine instead.
She took both bottle and glass to the lounge room and dropped onto the couch, kicking her feet up onto the glass coffee table. Sipping the wine, she pulled her laptop into her lap and stared at the website she’d been stalking for two weeks now.
Eli Damiani, CEO of the entertainment industry’s shining star, SinCorp, has announced the purchase of five new land holdings across City Central and Hamilton Bay and says that SinCorp plans to use at least three holdings to open new nightclubs.
Despite vocal objections from local lobby groups that insist Damiani is creating a culture of ‘booze and strippers’ in otherwise upper class neighbourhoods, stock prices for SinCorp have soared to over $121.61 per share.
Soph let her eyes drift from the article she’d already read a dozen times to the accompanying picture. Eli Damiani stared back at her, his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing smirk on his lips. His eyes bore deep into her soul, as though he knew she was stalking him on the internet.
It had been two weeks since they’d had drinks together, and she’d seen him only a handful of times across the street. Though his presence always made her pause and study him, he never noticed her back. She sighed and lifted her glass to her lips. Maybe she should search Marco’s name instead.
A loud crash outside in the hallway made her jump, and not even a second later, someone hammered on her door. Lurching to her feet, she went to open it, though the doorman, Harvey, hadn’t buzzed her to let her know that someone was coming.
And it was past the middle of the night.Her brain finally started catching up with her actions. What if there was a serial killer out there? She put her hand on the doorknob and felt her amulet flare hot against her chest. The warning didn’t deter her; she pulled the door open.
Eli was there, his dark hair tousled as if he’d been running and his eyes wild with panic. His chest heaved, and he braced against the door frame, held back by the wards that guarded her apartment.
Beyond him, the door to the fire escape had nearly been ripped from its hinges, and from within she could hear a guttural shriek echoing up the stairwell. It was coming closer.
“Soph,” Eli begged, his voice hoarse, “please let me in.”