Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Sophie
“Thank God you’re here.”
The moment I step off the elevator on the fourth floor of the building where my office is located, my assistant, Elena, hurries over. She’s clutching her phone, and her eyes are wide.
Since she is one of the calmest people I know, alarm floods me, spiking my blood pressure. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t get in the office.”
I frown. “What do you mean, you can’t get in the office?”
She indicates the sleek panel on the wall next to the door. It hadn’t been there last night when I left.
“And my key doesn’t work,” she adds.
Fury, hot and fast, blazes through me.
Damn it.
Damn them.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Lucian and Caleb are behind this.
“I was going to call, but I didn’t want to wake you up if—” She cuts herself off, eyes flicking over my face, reading the exhaustion I wasn’t able to hide, no matter how much makeup I slathered on. “Soph… Are you okay?”
“Long night.”
“I thought maybe…” She looks back toward the door. “Are you firing me?”
“What?” Head spinning, I scowl. “No. How could you think that?”
As she forces a small smile, realization dawns. The locks were changed, and she didn’t know anything about it. Trying to sound calmer than I feel, I promise her that I’m as surprised as she is.
Her eyes go even wider.
“I’ll handle it.” My pulse racing into overdrive, I yank my phone from my bag. When I scroll to the recently added contacts, I swear. “Bastard…”
“What’s the matter?” Elena asks.
Infuriatingly he labeled himself as husband.
Reassuring Elena everything’s okay, I stab the button to call him.
“I see you’re at the office,” Lucian answers.
I glare into the camera.
“And you bypassed your driver.”
“I preferred to catch my own ride.”
“That’s the last time that happens.” His voice is flat and forbidding.
I’d argue, but Elena is staring, and the annoying light on the access pad is blinking.
Without being asked, he rattles off an eight-digit code followed by a four-digit PIN.
My mind latches onto the sequence instantly. And I commit it to memory. “I also need one for Elena.”
He doesn’t ask who that is. Instead, he supplies another code and a different PIN.
Without saying anything else, I push the End button.
No doubt he’s still watching me and is gloating. I hate him a little more, if that’s possible.
Annoyance making my finger shake, I key in the code.
With a small click, the lock releases.
“Sophie?” Rather than heading straight for the breakroom and coffee as she usually does, she stands near me and fixes her gaze on mine. “What’s going on?”
She’s been with me too long, helping build the business with her professional calm and amazing networking abilities, for me to hide. “A lot has happened since last night—” The sound of a deep, masculine voice saying, “Your husband is calling,” shatters the silence.
I gawk at my phone.
He set his own damn ringtone too? In his own confident, commanding voice. Is there no end to his audacity?
“Sophie?” Elena’s eyes are wide.
When his words start a second time, I send him to voicemail.
The sudden silence allows me to breathe.
But the peace won’t last long. Lucian won’t deal well with being ignored. “There’s money in petty cash if you want to run to the coffee shop.”
Her eyes light up.
I rarely encourage that kind of reckless financial behavior. We have decent coffee here, and I splurge on some fun creamers.
But this is an emergency, and Elena is not about to pass up the opportunity for an extra-large caramel java upside-down frozen something with enough caffeine and sugar to power her through two days.
“A mocha for you?”
Since working calories off my body is a constant battle, I usually go for a nonfat latte.
“You look like you need a large one.”
I do. “With an extra shot of caffeine.” I should send the bill to the man who has convinced himself I’m going to marry him. After all, he’s the one who caused my sleepless night. “Be sure to get a receipt.”
The stupid ringtone pierces the air again, and Elena keeps moving toward the door.
When she reaches for the handle, I call out, “Add whipped cream.”
She looks over her shoulder and grins. “That bad, huh?”
“And drizzle.”
“It is that bad!”
Ignoring His Majesty’s summons, I continue to my private office and drop my bag on the desk, then turn the AC down a couple of degrees.
When he calls a third time, I pace to the window and stare out, scowling, debating what to do.
I know he won’t quit, and my adrenaline spikes as a realization hits me. If I keep putting him off, he might show up in person.
And I will do anything to avoid that.
With great reluctance, I answer. But I’m not friendly. “I will not talk to you all day, every day, when I’m at work. You’re welcome to go find another woman to toy with.”
“Understood.”
His response knocks the air from my lungs. I despise him. And I hate him more when he sounds rational. “I don’t need—”
“I take care of what’s mine.” The possession in his smooth response leaves me flustered.
“I am not yours.”
“Oh yes, Sophie. You very much are.”
The casual endearment spreads an unwelcome warmth through me.
I clench my jaw hard, increasing the headache I woke up with.
“We have dinner reservations. Tonight. Eight o’clock.”
“I have plans.” The lie is nothing more than self-preservation. I won’t allow him to think I’ll bend to his will.
When he doesn’t respond, I sink into the chair behind my desk and toy with a fidget spinner.
The silence expands, becoming unnerving.
I should feel like I won, but I don’t.
When he speaks, his words are final. “Your driver will pick you up at seven thirty.”
When I start to respond, I realize the line is dead.
Even more annoyed, I glare at the blank screen.
Damn him.
Elena returns with coffee and drops into the chair across from me.
Her drink is enormous. Honestly I didn’t know they made one that size.
Grinning, she slides mine across to me and then takes the lid off hers and licks the cream.
“Okay. You’re fortified,” she says after I take a couple of sips and lean back in my chair. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
While she watches wide-eyed, I bring her up to speed, starting years ago with Lucian ruining Adrian’s proposal. And then I end with some of the details of the bet.
“Holy shit! You have to be kidding me. You’re telling me your dad gambled you away? And never freaking told you?”
“That’s about it.”
“And now you have to marry this Lucian dude?”
I roll the cup between my palms. “Yeah.” But I don’t tell her about Caleb. Even I don’t believe that part.
“And your mom’s treatment depends on it?”
If the word treatment is a euphemism for mom’s life.
“Damn, Sophie. What are you going to do?”
I exhale and put my cup down. “Figure something out.” Even though I’m no closer to having an idea than I was at three a.m.
We talk for a couple more minutes, and I know we’re running out of time before my first client arrives.
Wrapping up, I give her the code to the alarm, and her unique PIN. Like me, she doesn’t need to write them down.
“I take it the alarm is Lucian’s doing?”
“More like Caleb’s.”
Mouth near her straw, she pauses. “Who is Caleb?”
Hells bells. Why had I mentioned his name? Finally I respond without revealing too much. “His business partner. Like he handles security.” With brawn and dark, intense eyes.
“Sophie, this whole thing is messed up.”
Before I can reply, the outer door opens, and Elena goes to greet my first client of the day.
After taking another sip of the much-needed caffeine, I shake Mr. Hargrove’s hand.
Within a minute, I find my rhythm, and I’m able to focus enough that he doesn’t seem to notice anything is wrong.
We end up running a little long, and I’m relieved when I barely have a break between clients.
Then unfortunately my one after that cancels.
Elena pops her head into my office to say she’s going to lunch and to ask if I want anything.
Even though food is the last thing on my mind, I ask her to bring me a sandwich.
Then, alone in the office, an unexpected break in my schedule and total silence, a fresh wave of nerves surges through me. Unable to help myself, I grab my phone.
There’s no call or message from my dad.
Frustrated, I pace the length of my office, not even stopping to look out at the view of downtown.
I’m caught up in my own drama.
How is it possible that I’ve been building my life while Lucian and Caleb have been moving pieces around as if it’s a chess board and I’m their helpless pawn.
I stop and blow out a breath.
I’m no one’s pawn.
Striding to my desk, I snatch up my phone and call my dad.
Shocked, I blink when he actually answers. Instead of exchanging pleasantries, I tell him about last night’s call from the clinic.
“Oh, Sophie…” His voice catches. “I’m so sorry.”
My heart races, and I exhale so that I don’t scream.
I hate myself for even having this thought… “What about selling the house?”
It might not cover everything, but at least it would be a start while we figure things out.
He hesitates so long that I know what he’s going to say before I hear the words. “I already mortgaged it.”
“You…?” I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I’m sorry that I have to ask you—”
“Ask me?” Hysteria bubbles in my voice. “Ask me? You’re giving me no choice.”
“If there was any other way to save your mom…” He chokes on a sob.
My strong, competent, loving father cries for the first time in my life. “Please, Sophie.”
Shaking, unable to make any promises, I have to end the call.
And then I cry, tears burning, then streaming down my cheeks.
How can I be totally responsible for saving my mom?
But how can I say no?
Thankfully I’ve pulled myself together and swiped on another coat of mascara before Elena returns.
Somehow I compartmentalize my problems and focus on my clients in the afternoon.
As we’re getting ready to wrap up the day, the outer door unexpectedly opens.
I hear voices, and a minute later, Elena walks in, carrying a garment bag.
“Oh my God. What is this?”
I recognize the name of the exclusive River Oaks boutique.
Once she leaves, my fingers shaking, I type a message to Lucian. I am not your plaything.