by Caro LaFever
“Soph.” His whisper came low. “If this guy is the Perfect Man’s friend, he might be here to yell at you for breaking it off.”
She straightened her spine and glanced over her shoulder. Henry was slumped in the doorway, his face downcast, his eyes blurry. “I don’t think he’s here to yell.”
“Maybe not, but you’re hurting already. I don’t want to take the chance he’ll hurt you even more.”
“Henry isn’t here to hurt me.” Her conviction rose. “I think he’s here because he’s hurting.”
Jorge glanced at the man. Whatever he saw seemed to reassure him. “You’re probably right. Alexander the Great has a lot to answer for.” His flannel-covered arm came around her in a tight squeeze. “I can find him in Mexico and pulverize him if you want me to.”
A clogged laugh escaped. “He’s not in Mexico.”
Bushy eyebrows rose. “No? So you know where he is?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” Patting his burly chest, she gave him another firm smile. “Now get going. I need to talk with Henry.”
The old man grumbled and groused but finally left with a defiant slam of the outside door.
Sophie ran her hands down her apron, wondering where to start. “I’m sorry for all the troubles with the emir and the IPO.”
Henry lurched away from the wall he’d moved to when Jorge had lumbered toward the door. His face creased with frustration. “That’s not why I’m here. I don’t care about the emir or the IPO.”
Surprise flickered through her. “You don’t?”
“I do. I’ll admit, I do.” Grimacing, he walked to her and grabbed her hand. “But not as much as I care about my friend.”
She’d alternately liked Henry and was irritated with him throughout these last few months. Now his words filled her with warmth, and silently she forgave him for not listening to her when he should have. “I appreciate that.”
“And our company.”
The warmth dissipated. Pulling her hand out of his, she gave him a stony look.
“This isn’t like him.” Not sensing the change in her mood, Henry paced away, rubbing his hair into disarray. “I can’t understand it. We’ve always told each other everything.”
It wasn’t her place to explain. Alex hadn’t stopped her when she’d left his penthouse on New Year’s Eve. He hadn’t charmed or cajoled her to change her mind. The connection between them was real, she knew this, yet he had made a choice that night too.
A choice that didn’t include her.
Which meant she didn’t have the right to speak for him.
“I don’t know what to say.” She twisted her hands in front of her, noticing the absence of Alex’s ring for the thousandth time. “You’ll have to talk to him.”
“That’s just it.” He twirled to gaze at her with frustration. “I don’t know where he is.”
Something must have flashed in her eyes because he went taut. “You know,” he cried, striding to her side. “Tell me.”
Stumbling back, she leaned on the steel table. Her heart hurt for this man because she saw the pain in his eyes. He was still thinking about the company, though, more than he was thinking about his friend. Plus, she couldn’t and wouldn’t betray Alex again. “I can’t.”
“Sophie.” Henry gripped her arms in his hands. “You don’t understand.”
“I could say the same to you.”
“Okay. I admit it.” His hands tightened as he made his confession. “I didn’t listen to you and you felt like you had to do something drastic.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” But it wouldn’t have been the way she’d have stated it. Not then and not now. Except…except…Perhaps Henry was correct. Could her motivation have been get everyone’s attention because she thought she was right and no one listened? Maybe she hadn’t done it strictly for love.
Her little, beaten-down heart thumped.
“Sophie.” His eyes blazed. “There are people who are going to be hurt if I don’t find my partner. We have fifty-five employees who are in danger of losing their jobs.”
A series of faces flashed through her mind. Jamal laughing, Carly chattering, even Alex’s stiff and proper PA, Christine, smiling at her. The burr, the burr she’d acquired in Paris, returned to sit like a lump in the middle of her throat. “I didn’t think—”
“No.” His voice went fierce. “You didn’t and Alex didn’t. I don’t hold you at fault for that. They aren’t your employees. Yet I do hold Alex to his responsibility.”
Sophie thought of Tamika and Megan and Jorge. She hadn’t given them a moment of thought when she’d put her bakery in danger. Guilt slugged right into the pit of her stomach.
“If you won’t tell me where he is, then you need to go and get him.”
Looking into Henry’s determined eyes, she tried a last-ditch stand. “He won’t want to see me.”
“Yes, he will.” He took her hands in his and gripped them hard. “And if he doesn’t want to do the emir’s building, I’ll listen.”
“Perhaps you can supervise this project instead.” A flutter of hope sprang inside. She needed to resolve this somehow. She had to make this all come together so no one was hurt.
“Conceivably.” Something flashed in his eyes, but the determination never left. “However, I need my partner here to figure this out.”
Indecision mixed with fear. She could imagine herself walking into the big house and greeting a wary Nella. She could imagine walking down to the hut and finding it empty. And she could imagine the angry man she’d find in the hot pool.
“He loves you.” Henry hit right into the center of her dilemma. “He’ll listen to you.”
Did he? Would he?
“You need to do something, Sophie. Right now.”
Chapter 25
Weariness made her bones ache. After Henry had left, she’d done half of the morning baking because she’d known going home to her cozy apartment would only make her stark, raving mad. Working until she was so tired she could barely stand had been the goal. A goal she’d achieved. Now the only thing she wanted to do was find her bed and fall into it.
Reaching the top of the stairs to her building’s second floor, she sighed with relief.
Soon. The bed.
“Sophie!” Ceci’s cry rang down the hallway. “Where have you been?”
Stopping cold, she raised her head to face four sets of blazing blue eyes and one set of determined black. “What?” Her throat constricted in immediate fear. “What are you doing here? Has something happened to Alex?”
“You happened to Alex.” Ceci’s wide mouth twisted in a wry grimace.
“We’ve been here since six p.m.,” one of his other sisters announced, all offended dignity.
“Sophia.” His maman glided over and took her hand. “My son is not in a hospital or hurt physically, at least as far as we know.”
A whoosh of relieved air burst from her mouth. “Oh, thank God.”
“You care for him.” Abelle Wattier Stravoudas’s keen gaze caught hers. “You love him.”
Now that she knew he was okay, she didn’t want to talk about him. Or think about him. Or confess any feelings about him. “That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters.”
Pulling away from his mother while ignoring her words, Sophie made for her front door and escape.
“Your mother said you never baked past six.” Abelle’s stated with a snap.
“My mother?” She twirled around in horror. “You talked to my mother?”
“Yes, yes, certainly.” His maman tapped her long nails on her arm. “This is a crisis. Of course, I talked to your mother.”
“Of course.” Sarcasm ripened both words. Sophie brushed a hand across her aching forehead. She couldn’t handle this right now, whatever this was. “It’s nine o’clock and I have to be at work tomorrow at four. I’m tired.”
“We’ll take only a moment of your time.” One of the other sisters said with a forceful voice. “Even if your
friendly neighbor did come out and offer us some cookies and a place to sit, we’ve waited this long. You owe us.”
Behind the fatigue, a bubbling fury surged. She didn’t owe them anything. In fact, if anyone owed anyone anything, these ladies owed their perfect son and brother an apology. Yet she didn’t want to fight with this cadre of Stravoudas females. She wanted them to go away. Plainly, though, they weren’t going to oblige her until she let them have their say.
“Fine. Whatever.” Marching through their midst, she unlocked her front door and threw it open. “Come on in.”
“This is enchanting.” Alex’s maman sailed in, her offspring following behind. “You’ve done quite a lot with such a small space.”
“I don’t have time to talk about interior design.” Shrugging off her coat, she slung it across the couch. “Tell me why you’re here.”
Ceci closed the front door behind her and leaned against it, as if they all planned on being here for a while. “We’re here to discuss you and Alex.”
The bubbling fury started to boil. “I split with him. That’s the end of the story.”
“Ma chère.” Abelle perched on a chair, her elegant chignon gleaming in the light. “This is only the beginning.”
“We have to find out where he is,” one of the other sisters said. “Then we can figure out how to get you back together.”
“I don’t want to get back together.” The words echoed in her heart sending shockwaves of pain through her body. Still, the words were sincere. She didn’t want to get back together with Mr. Perfect and that’s what Alex really wanted to be.
Her announcement was met with astonished looks and a smattering of coughs. “Of course you do,” one of the other sisters said at last.
“Of course, I don’t.” Wrapping her arms around her waist, she dug in. “And if that’s what you’ve come to say, you can leave now.”
“Why are you being hostile?” Ceci gave her a look of concern. “We’re all in this together.”
“No, we’re not.” Fatigue bit along the edges of her control, her control over the fury. She didn’t want to fight with these women. They loved Alex, the perfect Alex, and who was she to say it was wrong?
But it was wrong. It was.
“Sophia.” His mother leaned forward. “Do you know where my son has gone?”
The surprise came again. That she was the only one who knew of his hideout. Something like pride or stupid pleasure coursed through her. “Yes. I think so.”
“Then you must go to him,” Abelle said with a decisive sweep of her hand. “You must beg his forgiveness.”
“What?” The fury roared out of the leash. “Are you crazy?”
His mother straightened her spine. “Non.”
“I broke up with him.” She stuck out one finger. “I don’t want to be with him.” A second finger. “He doesn’t deserve me. Not the way he is right now.” A third and final finger reared into the air.
“He’s perfect for you—”
“What do you mean?” Ceci cut into her sister’s objection. “Not the way he is right now.”
“He tries to be perfect. All the time.” She let everything she’d thought about and concluded tumble out. “He can’t be. You can’t make him be.”
Silence fell in the room and the only sound she heard was her loud breathing. His mother frowned, ruining the smoothness of her forehead. His sisters all gaped at her, ruining their blonde beauty.
Except for Ceci. “Keep going.”
She shouldn’t. This wasn’t her business. And perhaps she had this family situation completely wrong. Yet something deep inside, maybe even the something Mel and Henry and called for, kept her mouth going. “He does too much for every one of you. He can’t be everything to everybody.”
The silence deepened.
“I don’t understand,” his mother finally whispered.
Sophie’s hands fisted at her side. She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t dive into the middle of this family’s issues. She could hear Alex in her head…
Making all the decisions for everyone, right, Sophia?
“He feels like he can’t say no,” she blurted. “He can’t say no when you call him about the leak in your roof or the other repairs on your house.”
Abelle’s face blanched. “I only thought to get his advice—”
“He can’t say no to going to a niece’s recital or a nephew’s ballgame.”
One of the blonde beauties stiffened. “I only ask because I think he might enjoy—”
“Ceci.” Sophie turned to stare at the short woman. “He isn’t your dad.”
“I know.” Dark eyes filmed with the hint of tears. “But I make him feel like it, don’t I?”
Squawk! Squawk!
Her phone. Something to stop her mouth from continuing to blow things up. She reached into her purse and looked at the screen.
Her mother.
Dammit.
Why couldn’t it be Tamika or Megan calling in sick? Or perhaps Jorge saying he’d delivered the desserts? She’d have even taken Mel and Henry harping on her to do something.
Instead, her lifeline was her mother.
“I need you to leave,” she stated to the silent room. “I need to take this call.”
Squawk! Squawk!
Abelle rose in queenly grace. “We have some things to think about.”
“I guess we do.”
“Perhaps so.”
“I never thought—”
“We’ll leave, Sophie.” Ceci opened the front door. “But I trust you to take care of my brother.”
The burden sagged on her shoulders and frustration swirled around her fury. “I don’t know—”
“You’ll figure out something.” His youngest sister closed the door behind her mother and sisters and herself.
She didn’t have to answer the phone now, but why not confront everyone all at once and get it over with? “Mom.”
“Finally.” Margaret Feuer’s voice crackled with irritation. “I had begun to think I had a mirage for a daughter.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“This isn’t the Christmas season. You can’t fool me.” The piercing whistle of a teapot cut through her words for a moment. “I’ve been talking to Alex’s mother.”
“So I’ve heard.” Wearily, she let herself sag onto the couch. “She was just here.”
“Good. I hope she talked some sense into you.”
“I didn’t give her a chance.”
She got a huff of displeasure in response. “In that case, I’m going to put your father on.”
“Mom—”
“Maybe he can make you realize Alex Stravoudas was the perfect man to walk into your life.”
“Mom—”
“I can’t understand why you split with him, yet you must have had your reasons.”
“Mom—”
“But none of those reasons stand against the most important point. Alex and you are meant to be together.”
“Mom—”
“Here’s your father.”
“Crud,” Sophie muttered. Ready for another lecture, she slumped farther down, lying her head on the shoulder of the sofa.
“Sophie?”
“Yeah, Dad. I’m here.”
“What’s going on, Princess?” Erich Feuer’s voice was filled with comfort and consolation in comparison to her mother’s annoyed tone.
The contrast made tears well in her eyes. Again. Dammit, she was not a watering pot. “I split with Alex.”
“Yes, I heard.” Now her father’s voice turned wry. “I’ve heard about nothing else for several days.”
“Sorry, Dad.”
“Don’t be sorry. You must have had your reasons.”
The confidence he had in her never wavered. Not when she had announced she wanted her own bakery, not his. Not when she’d said she wanted to bake pastries, not bread. Not when she’d stated she didn’t plan on marrying and having children for years.
“Sophie?”
/> “Yeah.” Swallowing tears, she tried to sound upbeat. “I’m here.”
“Tell me, Princess.” She heard a door close. “Your mother’s gone off to bed and now we can have one of our chats.”
Their chats had started when Sophie was barely five. Chats as she sat in her bed before sleeping. Chats at the bakery as she observed him rolling out the bread. Chats when she came home from college and relaxed with him on the doorstep watching New York City go by.
“I don’t think I can chat at this moment,” she whispered, more tears choking her.
“Sure you can, Sophie. You can do anything.”
The words and confidence in her father’s voice blended and blurred into Alex’s.
The mix sent her over. The tears came, hard and long.
Her dad said nothing, only occasionally murmuring a warm word of consolation.
Wiping her eyes with the ever-convenient tissues on the side table, she managed to finally pull herself together.
“Princess?”
“I’m s-sorry, Daddy.”
“Tell me the story of all this.” She could almost feel her dad’s arm around her, reassuring her, trying to understand. “Go on. Then we’ll figure this out.”
She told him. Of her involvement with Mel’s breakup. Of Alex’s threat. Of her three promises. And last, of her love.
“What he did was wrong, I agree.” Her dad sounded sad and yet, there was something deeper in his voice. A resolute decision that made her heart sink. “But you were wrong too, Princess.”
Her dad never wavered in his love, and he also never wavered in doing what was right.
“You promised, Sophia. And you always need to keep your promises.”
Chapter 26
Alex leaned on the fence, watching Arion and Vouk race each other across the snow-covered field. Their tails and manes flew in the wind, their powerful muscles flexing, the hooves flying.
Free.
He leaned in farther and his head dropped until all he saw were his clasped hands. Hands that had designed hundreds of buildings. Hands that had always known the line to draw, the angle to frame. Hands he’d depended on to get him to where he’d decided to go at the age of seventeen.