Chapter 2
Two
Sophie
Sophie tacked onto the end of the fast-moving line inside Joseph’s, brushing strands of hair out of her face.
Hitting her phone’s home screen, she winced. She needed to get out of her apartment earlier.
One of the men in front of her turned to say something to his companion, and she started as James’s side profile hit her.
Cheeks burning, she ran through options of what to say in her head.
‘Hey!’—No, that’s too generic—Oh, maybe, ‘Thanks for the muffin?’—Wait, is opening without a greeting too rude? Maybe it’s better not to say anything?
James’s friend ran a hand through his dark brown hair, mussing the artfully styled strands. “... You did that? Why?”
James sighed. “I don’t—”
“Wait, is that why your stomach was growling throughout the morning meeting?” The other man’s Spanish accent soaked his words.
“How do you know that was me?”
He raised a brow. “Really? I swear, Gemma was a second away from kicking you out. Anyway, you never give me your muffins. Why? I thought you loved me. Give me your muffins.”
“Oh, fuck off. Also—” James caught Sophie’s gaze. “Oh. Hi.”
“Uh, hi.” Immediately, she lowered the hand she’d lifted in a wave. “Um … thanks again for yesterday.”
“Sure thing,” he said.
Their gazes lingered on each other before the other man cleared his throat.
Sophie tore her gaze away. “Oh, hi, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Redirecting her attention, she was hit with a pair of dark brown eyes, cheekbones, and a jawline that could cut glass … and a startling sense of familiarity.
The man threw on a dazzling smile and stuck out his hand, his sleeve contrasting against his tanned, pale skin. “Philip Solano Castillo. But I go by Philip Solano.”
At his name, something floated through Sophie’s head—an article or headline. But the answers remained out of reach, taunting her.
Hm. Curiouser and curiouser.
Work bogged her down before she could look James up the day before, and now with Philip … she made another note of it.
“Next!”
Philip’s awkward smile fell away from her as he turned.
They moved to the pickup area, and she placed her order, taking two pastry bags from the barista.
Walking over to James, she extended one. “Here.”
He appraised the bag with a raised brow. “Sorry?”
The sparse LEDs embedded into Joseph’s ceiling glared down on her, transforming into a million blinding spotlights. “It’s a blueberry muffin.”
The corners of Philip’s mouth twitched. “Your favorite, cabrón.”
Sophie frowned. “I’m sorry, did you just call him a bastard?”
“It’s an affectionate nickname,” James explained. “Kind of an inside joke we have. It’s a long story. Anyway, thanks for this,”—he took the bag, his fingers brushing hers—“you didn’t have to.”
Sparks danced unbidden up her arm, and she shivered. “Well, you didn’t have to give me your breakfast.”
“You looked like you were in a rush.”
“Yes, but your stomach suffered.”
He shrugged. “Worth it.”
Philip cleared his throat loudly.
James shot his friend a glance. “Remind me why you’re here, Pip?”
Philip narrowed his eyes. “Ay, cabrón de corazón negro. What did I say about calling me that in public?”
“Hm. Is that any way to talk to someone who bought you coffee, and got you a job at my company?” James mused.
Sophie’s smile faded. ‘My company?’
“Uh … I’m sorry,” she started, suspicion lingering in her gut. “Where exactly do you two w—”
The barista called Philip’s name, and he went up to get the drinks. Frowning, he waved the barista over.
“Oh, looks like they got it wrong,” she said. “Hope work doesn’t start soon.”
“We’ve got some time.” James’s hand moved in her peripheral vision to rub the back of his neck. “Question is, do you?”
“Been paying attention to my work schedule?”
“I’ve been told I’m observant.” He shrugged.
“How’d they say it? That can be a con,” she deadpanned.
He threw her a pointed look, and her lips twitched.
“If anything, it’s a skill in my line of work.”
“Right, what is that exactly?”
“Are you free Friday?”
Damn, that was smooth. She scoffed, crossing her arms. “I’m off at six,” she said.
A full smile soared on his lips, softening the hard planes of his expression. “Perfect. I’ll tell you at dinner.”
“Bold of you to assume I’ll agree.”
He nodded, feigning nonchalance. “Do you? If you don’t, we obviously don’t have—”
“I never said no,” she interjected.
Another delicious smile spread across his lips. “Okay, then.”
Her lungs tied themselves in a knot. “Okay.” What just happened?
She never took a risk like that. Not since the party when she was a
freshman in college, and she’d let loose for just a second, and everything fell apart.
But a slight frown, one he couldn’t quite hide, marred his forehead. Almost like he was scared she would take it all back, and it was strangely endearing.
“So, Friday. Six-thirty work?” he continued as if nothing was wrong.
“Only if you’re paying,” she threw back.
He grinned. “Fair enough.”
Clicking out of the computer window, Sophie pulled up the spreadsheet she kept of open campaigns and navigated to the box with ‘Shasta’ in it.
Shasta Spa and Resorts was the latest conglomerate to seek out Covey for help with its image maintenance.
She enjoyed working with Marilyn on the campaign, and both she and the client complimented Sophie endlessly.
Deep down, I know I did well. But …
Imposter syndrome was a bitch.
She sighed and leaned back in her chair, picking at the well-worn white leather. A nervous tic she tried to shake time and again.
But as long as her brain whispered doubts into her ear, a hole threatened in her chair.
Shooting off an IM to Marilyn that she had filed the last paper associated with the campaign, Sophie eagerly waited for her response.
Marilyn replied a few seconds later.
Perfect. Meet me in my office.
Oh, God, this was it. This was the reckoning Sophie waited five years for.
Calm down. But it was a moot point as she jolted back from her desk. She swore as she knocked her knee against the underside. After hustling down the short hall, she knocked on Marilyn’s door a moment later.
“Come in.”
Sophie entered the large, bespoke office as her boss typed away at her computer.
Marilyn eyed Sophie over the rim of her wire-frame glasses and smiled.
At nearly fifty, crow's feet crinkled at the corner of her cornflower eyes, and gray streaks played through her honey-blonde hair.
She motioned to one of the chairs in front of her organized desk. “Ah, Sophie. Sit down.”
Sophie fought back the tide of exhilarating nausea in her gut.
Could Marilyn see the anxious trepidation coursing through Sophie’s veins? The subtle shaking?
To keep from vibrating too much, Sophie focused on Marilyn’s coral-painted lips.
“Thank you so much for all your help on the Shasta case. You were wonderful. I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked since joining, and this case was no exception,” Marilyn started.
“I know you’ve been wanting a promotion, but unfortunately, I can’t offer you that right now. I’m sorry not to have better news.”
Sophie’s smile faded as Marilyn continued, the ringing in her ears reverberating through her skull.
Dread replaced her excitement. “I’m sorry?”
Failure. You’re a failure.
“I’m not saying no,” Marilyn rose and adjusted an already perfectly angled picture of her husband and children.
“But you know, besides Shasta, we only have one other big client on our roster so far. Right now, I need help with managing the paperwork for that more than I need a new account director.”
“But I … I can help you with that as the account director.” Sophie’s heart pounded and she gripped her bracelet. “The fact that we even have another big client is a sign Covey is growing.”
She picked at her skirt, searching futilely for a loose thread.
“No, as account director, you would have your own cases to deal with.” Marilyn’s mouth tugged into a straight line.
“I could give you some of the paperwork, but your attention would be divided, and that’s not where I need your head right now.
As you said, Covey is growing, and the meeting tomorrow with this company could bolster a lot of potential clients.
You never know when you’ll need PR help. ”
Sophie forced her face to remain neutral. “Alright.”
Marilyn’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Sophie. But remember, I’m not saying no.”
Ice licked Sophie’s stomach as she nodded before excusing herself. Buzzing filled her ears as she stood outside Marilyn’s office.
‘I’m not saying no.’
Sophie dug her nails into her palms and took a shaky breath. Not for the first time, she swallowed her anger.
Shutting her office door, she leaned against the wood.
Deep breaths.
Promotions were hard to achieve in any industry, but especially in the PR world.
Forcing her eyes open, Sophie stalked over to her desk and sat, lacing her fingers under her chin.
‘I’m not saying no.’
I still have a chance.
She just had to make sure her performance on the upcoming case was one of the best she’d given yet.
She’d always tested well as a child, and this was just another test in the grand scheme of things. There was no way she’d fail.