Chapter 30
Thirty
Sophie
Staring at her phone, the keypad burned a rift into Sophie’s eyes.
This is crazy. There’s no telling if this will even work.
Behind her, James mumbled something in his sleep, then resumed softly snoring.
Fishing his shirt from the floor, she pulled it on and slunk out of bed, padding to the kitchen.
The dial tone spiraled heavily into silence as Sophie leaned against the counter, worrying her lip.
“Hello?” Curiosity flowed through Jackie’s voice, completely at odds with the desperate contempt that ruled it last week.
“I’ll cut to the chase.” Sophie refused to let any doubt flood her for even a second. If there was so much as a flicker, she would fall to her knees. “I need your help.”
She laid out her plan, then turned around, tapping her nails against the countertop. “If you don’t agree, it’d be a shame to tell Marilyn that we found you after you got away.”
Jackie chuckled. “Are you blackmailing me?”
“Yes.” Sophie examined her nails. “Either you go to the press, officially confirming James and my relationship so Covey can release an official statement. Or …”
“Or you call that commissioner he has in his pocket,” Jackie finished.
Sophie played with a cabinet door, opening and shutting it quietly. “Exactly.”
Jackie laughed. “Was this your idea or James’s?”
“Mine.”
“I’ve got to hand it to you—I didn’t think you had this in you. But who’s to say I won’t double-cross you?”
Sophie’s brows rose. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. But it really is better to take door number one, Jackie.”
Life was only bad if you let it be, and Sophie had spent her entire life trying to turn a self-fulfilling prophecy into a self-defeating one.
Jackie nearly knocked it all over in one, selfish swoop.
Sophie would be damned if she let that happen.
Not just for her sake, but for Marilyn’s, Covey’s, and James's.
Jackie’s tone lightened, like her lips formed a coy smile. “I understand. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Excellent.”
A blip sounded, ending the call.
Sophie slipped the device into her pocket and took a deep breath before pouring herself a glass of water.
Sophie strode into the lobby of Covey’s building, her heels clicking against the marble flooring. In one hand, she held her coffee from Joseph’s and in her other arm, she cradled a stack of files.
James’s hand pressed into her lower back, her purse swinging from his shoulder.
Her spine stiffened as they waited for the elevator, the significant stares they garnered sinking into the nape of her neck.
She and James had yet to release a statement, and until they did, rumors about them being seen in an intimate position that morning were sure to circulate.
The hushed shouts and whispered screams had been terrifying, and she couldn’t take a repeat of that.
But the difference between then and now is that you have the upper hand. You don’t have anything to worry about. This won’t fail.
“Relax,” he murmured.
She stepped into the waiting cart and sucked down some coffee. “Right, you’re right.”
Steeling herself, she swallowed and took a few deep breaths. “Do you remember those men in the elevator after the gala? I arranged for Jackie to talk to one of them.”
James raised a brow. “A journalist?”
Sophie nodded. “And one that believed the worst about us until Marilyn’s ‘fix.’”
James’s jaw clenched and she leaned into his side.
“It’s fine,” she said. “It’s better for someone who knew he was wrong to do this. He wants to get the right story out now.”
The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped out into Covey’s lobby, waving to Nico. Walking into her office, she set her things on her desk and sighed.
She curled her hand into a fist and gripped her bracelet. You got this.
James offered her his hand, smiling. “Don’t worry, bǎobèi.”
She stared at his upturned palm for a moment before taking it, interlocking their fingers.
She barely registered leading him down the hall until she stared at Marilyn’s shut door.
But even though Sophie’s spine was stick straight, and her chin held high, her nerves still twitched, and her pulse was a war drum.
James squeezed her hand as she knocked, simultaneously pushing into Marilyn’s office.
Marilyn looked over from her computer, her brows rising as she took in James’s hand in Sophie’s.
“You decided to go public with it now that Jackie’s gone?” Marilyn asked. “That’s gutsy, especially so soon.”
Sophie smiled wryly and let go of James’s hand. Taking a seat, she crossed her ankles. “About that … Jackie isn’t gone.”
Footsteps muffled behind her, and James’s hand settled on her shoulder as she started explaining.
Marilyn’s brows climbed and she laced her fingers together, resting her chin atop her hands. “What I’m hearing is you blackmailed Jackie into making an official statement.”
A proud smile tilted Sophie’s lips. “I did.”
She hadn’t done anything when Alex and Brian broke her heart, and she’d been too scared to. But those days were long gone.
She wasn’t letting James go, and if she had to, it wasn’t without a fight.
“Well.” Marilyn sighed. “I’m not exactly happy with what you chose to do, but I can see why you did it, and it would work.”
“I’m sorry, Sophie explained it to me, but I’m still confused,” James sat down in the other chair. “Aren’t you still going to be under fire?”
Marilyn nodded, shrugging. “It’s unavoidable. But this way, we control the entire situation much better.”
“And it’s like I said earlier.” Sophie cast her gaze toward him. “If we went to the press without Jackie telling her story first, this whole thing would be messier than it needs to be.”
Outside, a car honked and an engine sputtered, the revving drawing farther away.
James was quiet, his gaze faraway. His jaw clenched, a muscle feathering in his temple.
Sophie’s palms broke into a cold sweat. I don’t like that look.
He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, then looked at her. “Then … what if we broke up?”
Her world cracked and shattered, and black crept in at the edges of her vision. A tunnel of rushing wind took up residency in her ears. “W-what?”
Intent glittered in his eyes, dilating his pupils. “If I went away, then there would be nothing to worry about. We wouldn’t need Jackie, and you and Marilyn would get away scot-free.”
Protests and disgust threatened to erupt from her. Maybe she and Marilyn would be in the clear, but she would lose him in the process.
They had fought tooth and nail to get to where they were. Finally, finally, all the pieces had entered the playing board and assumed their rightful positions, and he wanted to throw it all away?!
“No.”
She jumped as Marilyn broke into the moment, and Sophie’s attention whirled on her.
“No,” Marilyn repeated. “We didn’t go through everything—Sophie didn’t go through everything—for you to play the hero now.”
She stood, crossing her arms. “You might not be our client anymore, but your actions still matter.”
Pride and admiration welled up, spilling over the sides of Sophie’s heart.
Glancing at James, her gaze traced the flush of embarrassment brushing his cheeks. “You’re right. Sorry.”
Sophie’s phone pinged in her pocket, and she drew it out, glancing at the text notification from Jackie.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Jackie’s tense voice came over the receiver.
Sophie’s fingers flew across her keyboard as she drafted up the email to one of the reporters from the publication they’d attended the gala for. “Just like you knew what you were doing the entire time you played James?”
Silence oozed and James’s grip tightened subtly on the pen he was holding. He had folded himself into one of the chairs across from her and was scrawling things down on papers Gemma dropped off.
“And how is this any better than what I did?” Jackie asked.
Sophie tilted her head, drumming her fingers on the surface of her desk. “Because I’m actually trying to help others here. And don’t tell me that’s what you were trying to do, too.”
Jackie was quiet before harrumphing. “Fine. Anyway, let me know if this works.”
The call ended.
Sophie cleared her throat and resumed typing, putting the finishing touches on the email. “Okay, what do you think?”
James came behind her desk and bent to read the email they workshopped. He nodded, fixing his glasses that had slid down his nose.
“It looks good,” he said. “But I hate that we have to do this.”
She blew a breath out of her nose. You and me both.
They shouldn’t have to jump through hoops. They shouldn’t have to seek approval from news sources or wait for anyone else’s say-so. They should just be allowed to be.
But there were procedures to follow, and rules too rigid and fragile to break. The cards had to be played right if they valued their reputations.
Hitting the send button, she received a reply from the journalist a few minutes later, promising to get it released that afternoon.
Glancing at James, the burning nausea creeping up Sophie’s throat increased.
This was it. In a matter of hours, they either sank or swam, and James …
James had spent the entire day at Covey, helping when he could, and getting the stuff he had to do dropped off. As he’d explained it, he wanted to be there if something happened.
She pressed her lips tight.
If this were any of her exes, or hell, even her father, there would’ve been complaints. There would’ve been significant objections.
But James hadn’t put up a fuss once.
God, he must be so worried right now. Swallowing hard, she moved toward the door. Shrugging into her coat, she clutched the soft, black woolen material. “I’m going to get us some lunch, but I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
He blinked. “What?
“Um … lunch. Salad good?”
“Salad’s fine, but I was talking about that last part.” Crossing the room, his hands lay on her shoulders. “Why are you apologizing?”
She shrugged, letting her head fall. For a minute, she debated running anyway. All she had to do was rip herself from his touch and make a break for it. But her feet stayed planted on the carpet.