Chapter 12
Twelve
Sophie
It took Sophie and James two hours to reach Montauk. They snaked down the long, gravel drive, and he killed the engine.
She cataloged the steel-gray Aston Martin they pulled up alongside.
Is his brother already here, or is that his dad’s?
Dying evening sunshine cut across James’s face as she took in his expression, and her lips tilted downward. She gritted her teeth and caught his wrist, the pads of her fingers burning where they touched.
“Do you know if there are carrots on the menu for dinner?” she asked. She wasn’t sure where the question came from—it slipped past her lips uninhibited. All she knew was she couldn’t let him leave the car looking like that.
He frowned. “What?”
“Carrots,” she repeated. Shit, she was going to regret telling him this. “I can’t do carrots. I get … weird.”
He raised a brow. “Define weird.”
She let out a nervous laugh. “As in … I get really gassy.”
Laughter burst from him, the back of his head hitting the headrest. A smile creased his lips, showing off his smile lines and wrinkling his eyes.
She smiled. Good. She needed him to laugh before they walked in.
As they left the car and crossed the driveway, the gravel crunching under their shoes, she stared at the huge house.
Holy…
She’d done her best to ignore it before in the car, but now that it loomed head-on, it was impossible.
The mansion was overwhelming. Those were the most windows she’d ever seen on a residential building outside of Manhattan, and every step they took did nothing for the ball of nerves clanging around in her stomach.
What if his dad didn’t like her? She knew he already didn’t, but what if it got worse? What if … no.
She hadn’t come this far in her career because she worried about what others thought of her. She just needed to treat the Tians as another case. Even though she had a deeper connection with one of them, there was no reason to lose her head.
She took a deep breath and gazed upwards.
A figure stood in an upstairs window, their face obscured as they turned their head. They combed an elegant, manicured hand through their long, dark brown waves before walking away.
Sophie frowned. Was that Lina?
They reached the front door and James’s grip tightened.
She bumped his hip with hers and squeezed his hand. “Hey, it’s okay.”
He blinked, and it was like an entire ocean melted off his shoulders; his tense posture relaxed, and his hand loosened.
But when he rang the bell, everything came roaring back, and he looked one breath away from tipping off the ledge.
She sighed but steeled her expression as the door opened.
Instead of James’s dad, an elderly woman stood at the entrance. She dried her hands on the tea towel she held and beamed, stepping back to let them by.
“James! It’s wonderful to see you again,” she gushed. “How are you? Have you been eating enough? You look skinnier than the last time you came by. Are you sure you’re taking care of yourself?”
In Sophie’s mind, she knew the woman had to be Charles Tian’s housekeeper. But for some reason, she kept thinking it was James’s grandmother, given the way she fussed over him.
He smiled back. “Hi, Mrs. Le. I’m okay, and yes to everything.” He removed his shoes and slipped into a pair of slippers. “This is Sophie Huang, my …”
“Girlfriend?” Mrs. Le supplemented.
“Um … yes,” Sophie lied. She extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you!”
The housekeeper clasped her hand. “You, too. Lah, you’re so pretty, honey!”
Sophie blushed. “Thanks. Uh, is Mr. Tian in the living room?”
“Yes, he’s right down there.” The housekeeper pointed toward a room at the end of the hall. “Go on in, I’ll be back with drinks in a minute.” She started to walk down another hall before pausing. “Oh, yes. James, your brother is here. I think he’s upstairs?”
James went rigid. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Sophie put a hand on the crook of his elbow, not missing Mrs. Le’s gaze dip toward the contact.
“You’re welcome, dear,” the housekeeper said. “His fiancée is here, too. You know he’s acted kinder toward you over the years, but I think that she’s made him even better.”
Sophie raised her brow.
Mrs. Le disappeared down an adjoining hall, humming to herself.
Sophie took James’s hand and headed toward the living room.
“Girlfriend?” he murmured. “I thought we weren’t doing that.”
Sophie’s back stiffened. “We’re not, but why else would I be here with you? Besides, it’s not like your family doesn’t think we’re seeing each other.”
‘Seeing each other’ in the loosest sense of the term.
“And from what I could tell,” she continued. “She seems like family.’
James hummed. “Yes … Mrs. Le’s been with my family since Adam and I were kids, so she’s practically another grandmother to us.”
Sophie nodded. “It’s nice to know you had someone.”
Despite the soaring ceilings and cavernous rooms, without someone who made the place a home, you might as well be trapped underground.
They passed by pictures hanging on the wall, including a few of James sitting at a piano on a lit stage.
Her steps faltered. “I forgot you played piano.”
“Yeah.” He let out a hollow laugh. “My mom insisted I learn in the first place and after, I kept at it, even though I sucked. I don’t know why my dad keeps those pictures up. Sentimentality, I guess?”
In the time since they had left the foyer, his grip had become a vise again.
She needed him to calm down if their plan was going to work, and she meant to distract him. But with his tone, she clearly just made everything worse.
“James, wait—”
“Oh. You’re here.”
Her head swiveled toward the entrance where a man stood with his hands in his pockets. Her insides went cold; she had seen plenty of pictures of Charles Tian, but seeing him in person was a different matter altogether.
James obviously inherited his towering frame from his father, and they bore the same defined cheekbones and jaw, as well as perfectly arched brows. But besides those, they looked like two completely different people.
She stepped forward, extending her hand. “Hello, I’m Sophie Huang, James’s girlfriend. It’s nice to meet you.”
The tips of James’s fingers lingered on the small of her back as she moved, providing a constant, reassuring warmth.
Charles looked at her hand for a second before taking it and shaking it briskly.
“James’s girlfriend,” Charles repeated. “Is that what you’re calling it? Well. It’s my pleasure.”
Sophie had to applaud whatever force kept his lip from curling, and she stiffened as the brunt of his words hit her. But she kept a smile on her face.
“I uh … I heard from Mrs. Le that Adam’s upstairs. Where’s Lina?” James asked, breaking the tense silence.
“She’s in the bathroom,” Charles replied. “I haven’t seen her in a long time. She’s looking well.”
He walked into the living room without another word, expecting to be followed without question.
Sophie kept her face schooled into a placid mask as James’s words shot back to her.
‘Our family hasn’t gotten along with the Solano Castillos for over a decade.’
Given the animosity, why would Philip’s sister willingly be engaged to James’s brother?
She shook her questions away and focused on the task at hand.
Taking a seat beside James on the tufted, white couch, she crossed her ankles.
The slapping of slippers interrupted the silence, and Mrs. Le entered with a tray bearing a water pitcher and glasses. She set it down on the coffee table, not speaking a word the entire time. But she shot Sophie a reassuring smile and patted her shoulder before she left.
Sophie wished she wouldn’t go. Discomfort wound tight in the air, threatening to snap.
Filling the glasses, she grabbed one and chugged the contents as the hairs on her arm prickled.
Charles scrutinized her. “So. How long have you known my son?”
The question was posed innocently enough, but its true meaning lay beneath the surface.
How long have you been sleeping with him?
She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose and smiled sweetly. “A few weeks.”
A piece of advice from years ago came floating back to her.
To sell a lie, you had to work in elements of truth along the way.
It was a delicate process—you didn’t want to put in too much—but if you did it right, the lie became more believable.
“We met at a coffee shop,” she continued. “He accidentally took my drink.”
Charles arched a brow but said nothing as he poured out a glass of alcohol. She wondered if he assumed she’d staged it. Handing it to his son, he turned to her. “Whisky, Sophie?”
It was a little early in the day to be drinking hard liquor, but she accepted anyway.
“My other son tells me you work at the PR firm James hired after his … slip-up,” Charles continued. Disdain curled his lip ever so slightly.
She curbed her frown even as James openly glared at his dad. Clenching her jaw, she tapped his ankle with her foot.
None of this was his fault and Charles had no right to imply it was, but if James didn’t control himself, this wasn’t going to work.
“I—” she started.
A man who was clearly James’s brother slipped into the room, typing something on his phone. Like James, he was tall—close to six-five, if she had to guess. From the nose up, he strongly resembled his brother, but everything below that was like a younger copy of their father.
“Oh.” Adam pocketed his phone. “Hello. You must be Sophie.” He strode across the room and offered his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
She hesitated before standing to shake it.
From what James had told her, Adam kept to himself in slimy silence. But his pleasant smile could’ve fooled her.
“Yes, nice to meet you,” she said. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Have you met my—Ah.”
A woman entered, shaking her dark waves from her face.
Sophie smiled, introducing herself again.
“Catalina, right?” she asked.
“Just Lina is fine. It is so nice to meet you!” Lina said. Her accent mirrored her brother’s and added a musical quality to her words.
Sophie smiled. “The pleasure’s mine.”