Recaptured Dreams

by Dell, Justine

  It was beautiful…but the noise was clattering against Sophia’s eardrums. Caterers clanked silverware while preparing the food. There were several distinct pops of champagne bottles. People chatting and gossiping. Sophia touched a hand to her already pounding head and reminded herself that the clothes she would see tonight would be worth it.

  Sophia had been excited to see the fashion designs at the charity event, but now, flanked on both sides by her mother and grandmother, her mood was glum. The four women made their rounds, greeting and kissing what seemed like a million people. Sophia glanced behind her at Anne Marie, praying her friend would save her from the rest of the evening.

  When her grandmother curled her fingers around her hand and led her to a tall, good-looking young man with a hopeful smile on his face, Sophia knew any saving would be impossible.

  “Sophia,” Elise said with her bright, aristocratic voice, “this is Evan Moore.”

  The dark-haired man bowed slightly and took Sophia’s outstretched hand.

  “His grandfather was your grandfather’s business partner. Our families have worked together for years.” She touched a gloved hand to her glossed pink lips. “Now that I think about it, I’m surprised I never introduced you two before now.”

  Evan smiled proudly, his dark gaze twinkling beneath the golden lights. “Well, I’ve spent the better part of that last eight years going through undergraduate at St. Andrews and post-graduate studies at St. Leonard’s. It’s hard work preparing to take over Father’s company.”

  Sophia didn’t miss the look of pride on her grandmother’s face.

  “There hasn’t been time for socializing,” Evan continued. “I’m a little out of practice.”

  He laughed deeply. It was all Sophia could do to not roll her eyes. Another one of those types.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you, Lady Sophia,” he said in a smooth voice as he drew her hand up to his mouth and kissed it lightly. His lips were moist and warm, but the touch made Sophia’s blood run cold. “Your grandmother has told me a great deal about you.”

  She slid her hand away. “Don’t believe everything everyone has told you,” she said in her most grandmother-approved voice.

  “Sophia, dear,” Elise replied. The warning was in her tone, even if Mr. Handsome Face didn’t recognize it. He just smiled with a gleam of interest in his brown eyes.

  “Not to worry,” he countered. “I’m sure Lady Sophia is merely shy and unaware of her accomplishments. Or her beauty.”

  That earned Evan an airy chuckle from Sophia’s grandmother. Sophia did her best to hide the unease in her breathing.

  “Well,” she said after several silent seconds. “Thank you. I should be finding my seat; dinner will be soon.”

  “Of course,” Evan said in that same unshaken tone. “I’ll be sure to seek you out after dinner. That is, if you don’t mind.”

  Sophia opened her mouth to protest, but her grandmother’s hand had found her wrist and gave it an uncomfortable squeeze.

  Sophia plastered a smile on her face. “I would like that.”

  “Good. See you then.” Evan gave a quick grin, nodded, and walked off.

  Sophia could only frown. Evan was attractive, and he seemed nice enough. But Sophia was as sure as the grass was green that he was no different than any other man her grandmother and mother had set her up with. Handsome, charming, and rich, with their wicked smiles and good jobs, the men were just like her grandmother in a five-piece suit. They cared about themselves, their image, career, and lifestyle more than they cared about their wives.

  All the men Sophia had been set up with wanted an attractive, proper lady on their arm. They wanted not a life partner but a silent wife who supported her husband on every front, no matter what it was. Opinions were something the women weren’t necessarily expected to have, let alone share. The men, of course, wanted them to be faithful and giving in every way. But the men themselves? Sophia had seen too many devoted wives turn a blind eye to their husbands’ extramarital affairs. Sophia had herself been charmed by a man who’d had that same mentality. She’d been wooed and cheated on.

  She knew, though, that every rich and powerful man wasn’t shallow, overbearing, and unloving. A good example had been her father. He’d been loving in all the important ways. Caring for her mother’s every need. Going to all of Sophia’s school plays and recitals. He’d loved Sophia dearly. And Sophia’s mother as well.

  Yet when he had been alive, he’d fought with Katherine like cats and dogs over Sophia’s memory. Her father had felt the same as Sophia, yet he’d never been able to convince her mother that the basics of getting her memory back began with the simplest of things: her childhood. Sophia all too well remembered when she’d sat up, quietly sobbing, in her room a year after the accident, listening to her father and mother scream about the repercussions of it.

  Now, with Elise at the helm and Sophia’s steel-hard mother not too far behind, they blocked any and all of Sophia’s past and thought they knew what type of man would make her happy. The type of man that would make them happy.

  It didn’t take Sophia long to find Anne Marie and her seat after scurrying away from Evan.

  “Thank God,” Sophia huffed as she sat down. “Please don’t leave me alone with Grandmother again.”

  Anne Marie grinned feebly. “Sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. The woman is incorrigible.”

  Elise and Katherine sat down across from them at the table.

  “Sophia,” Elise said. “Tell your mother about Evan.”

  Sophia picked up her butter knife and swirled imaginary circles around the crisp tablecloth with its tip.

  “Sophia,” Katherine said.

  “He was nice.” And that was all she said. It was all she was going to say. Anne Marie touched her hand gently.

  Elise raised her gray brow. “Nice? All you can say after you meet a successful man is that he was nice? Really, Sophia, you won’t ever get married if you constantly act like you don’t care.”

  “I don’t.”

  All three of the other women gasped in unison.

  “Oh dear,” Anne Marie whispered.

  Katherine set her wine glass down with an unsteady hand. “Don’t take that tone with us. We have done no more than give you the tools and manners needed to succeed in this life. Do not bite the hand that feeds you.”

  Elise gave an approving nod. “I’m glad you are standing up to her, Katherine. She needs to know she can’t continue like this. She is well past the time of traipsing around and doing nothing with her life.” Elise pointed a sharp finger at Sophia. “Your mother told me about the man you met last night, Xavier-something. I would never approve of such a man. And your father would surely roll over in his grave if he knew you had your sights set on someone with such a past.”

  Past? What past?

  Elise’s words rang through Sophia’s ears. She blinked, not hearing her grandmother’s voice but her mother’s. She closed her eyes fully, focusing on the sound. Soft-spoken, as though Katherine was years younger, without the slight shake her voice held now. The words sharpened and repeated. Only this time, Sophia saw her mother saying those exact same words in a place Sophia didn’t recognize. A place with shimmery green curtains and wall-to-wall windows.

  “She can’t have her eyes set on someone with such a past.”

  Then her father’s voice rang out: “We’ll be gone soon enough. Let her enjoy this one summer.”

  Sophia shook her head, puzzled, and opened her eyes. Anne Marie was right in her face.

  “Sophia? Are you all right?”

  “Uh, yes. I think so.” She twisted her clammy hands in her lap. “I just saw…” She didn’t know what she saw. Or heard. Maybe it was the wine? “Déjà vu, I think. Yes, that must be it.”

  “Your face is flushed. You’re sure you’re all right?”

  She gave a tight-lipped smile. “Absolutely.”

  “Sophia?”

  She snapped her atte
ntion back to her grandmother.

  “Did you hear me? This fashion designer, Xavier, isn’t suitable for you.”

  At the very sound of his name, Sophia’s senses kicked up a notch.

  “It’s time to focus on the important things,” Elise continued. “Evan is a successful and handsome man to start with. And if he won’t do, there are plenty more suitable men you can meet. Understand?”

  Sophia ground her teeth but said nothing. What could she say?

  “Elise,” Katherine said. “I do believe I know my daughter well enough to know what she needs. I understand the need for her to marry as well as carry on the duties we complete. Sophia understands this as well. Don’t you?”

  Two sets of very determined eyes focused on Sophia. She didn’t squirm in her seat. She didn’t run away like she wanted to. She simply closed her eyes, drew in a shallow breath, and said, “Yes.” The air in the room was dry and stale.

  “Good then,” Elise chimed. “Because I, for one, am tired of explaining to all my friends and associates why my only grandchild is not married. Or even dating. It puts a cloud over my head—and the family.”

  Sophia’s shoulders slumped. She was cornered. Her hopes and dreams had been squashed the moment she’d taken her first breath in the world. All in the name of her family legacy. Her future. Suffocating defeat surrounded her as she realized she couldn’t fight the inevitable. Tears threatened to spill, but she fought them back while downing an entire glass of wine.

  Anne Marie placed a comforting hand on Sophia’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t worry, darling. I’m here for you.”

  “Thank you,” she mouthed to her best and most loyal friend.

  This was her life. And, in the end, the lessons and duties that had been engrained in Sophia’s head came forth, reminding her that her privileged existence—while a gift—was not all about her. It was about family. Respect. And sometimes doing the things that you hate.

  The food was superb, as expected: oven-roasted prosciutto and fresh basil wrapped around a pork loin with asparagus spears atop a pile of spicy fingerling potatoes. But to Sophia, everything tasted like cardboard. And she’d only been able to take a few bites of her molten lemon cake with simmered blueberries for dessert without feeling the need excuse herself.

  It amazed her how much money had been put into the event just to get people to buy auction items. One would think they could have saved needed funds by skipping the dinner seduction and moving right to the charity’s purpose. Yet another aspect of her mother’s world riddled in hypocrisy.

  The jazz band began to play, and Sophia was restless. She downed her fourth glass of wine to settle the annoyance building within her. Her head swam, but at least she was more relaxed and able to handle any more comments from her family.

  “How long before the auction starts?” Sophia asked her mother. It was the only reason she’d faced the torture of her grandmother’s verbal assault, after all. Sometimes designers brought one-of-a-kind items to those auctions.

  “Not long now.”

  A masculine hand appeared in front of her face. “May I have this dance?”

  Sophia craned her neck to see Evan standing next to her, another award-winning smile on his face. She glanced around the table, and everyone else was smiling too. Except Anne Marie. Anne Marie shook her head as if to say, “You don’t have to,” but Sophia knew she did.

  Fantasies of Xavier aside, dancing with someone her family approved of would hopefully put her back on the path they thought she needed to be. And she needed her family to see that she could make them proud. She would. Even if she died inside while doing it.

  She slipped her hand into Evan’s, ignoring the formation of ice in her veins. “I’d love to.”

  Chapter Six

  XAVIER NURSED HIS WINE, not enjoying the sting of its sweet taste as it slid down his throat. Dinner had been bland. He carried on the perfunctory conversations that were expected of him, but it felt like he was talking to stick figures, and his headache hadn’t faded.

  The night crawled by, and glancing at his watch only made time go slower. Forget the dinner, forget the dancing; Xavier just wanted to announce the special piece he’d donated for the line and get the hell out of there.

  The place oozed money. He’d spent a good portion of his night batting away the single heiresses and well-to-dos. One rather pushy middle-aged woman had had enough nerve to slip him a room key card with explicit instructions. If that was proper, he was the pope.

  Xavier had the need to go home and wash his hands—and the rest of his body. He needed to get the stickiness of bored, rich single women out of his favorite gray suit.

  He slid further down in his seat, loosened his tie, closed his eyes, and pictured her.

  Sophia.

  The woman who made all these other women look like paupers. Even with her money and family history, Sophia—the Sophia he’d known, anyway—was well-rounded in a way money couldn’t buy. The type who thought about others before herself. The type who knew what it meant to be a good friend. Sophia was just…good. That’s what Xavier remembered the most.

  Well, that and her scent. Her laugh. And her smile. Actually, he remembered everything like it was yesterday. And he still wanted to be in her arms tomorrow. Or, better yet, tonight—and every night thereafter. His memories were so cruel, taunting him with his angel who had eluded him over the years.

  Sophia.

  With that, he opened his eyes to the woman of his dreams…out on the dance floor…with someone else.

  Xavier’s hands instantly clenched into fists. It was all he could do to remain in his seat and not go knock out the besotted man’s front teeth. And the man was besotted.

  The stranger was tall and wearing an expensive silk suit. His features were sharp with focused, predator eyes and a long nose perfect for breaking. He held Sophia in a close embrace during an all-too-slow dance, and his hand had inched down to a dangerous place, holding a grip on her backside. The beautiful gold fabric of Sophia’s dressed crinkled and protested with each ugly wiggle of his fingers.

  Xavier held his breath and just watched.

  Watched his dream float across the dance floor in another’s man arms. Watched her feet sweep in perfect harmony with his. Watched her eyes gleam a glorious blue under the lights.

  And he watched her laugh, which forced him to bite his lip to keep from growling. Was she actually enjoying herself? Did she not even think about Xavier or the night before? Surely not if she was tucked so snugly into this other man’s arms. Xavier fought the urge to pound on the linen-covered table and shook his throbbing head. Maybe Bryant was more right than he’d thought. With a deep exhale, Xavier acknowledged that that, whoever that woman was, was not his Sophia. Not even close.

  He jolted to his feet and strode straight to the men’s room. He splashed cold water on his face and stared at his reflection. His eyes were hooded and dark, defeat marring his features.

  Get yourself together! You were wrong. It’s not her.

  Was his instinct really that off? Had he spent so many years searching that he truly couldn’t tell the difference between his soul mate and a total stranger?

  No.

  No way. It was her. No one had eyes like that. Eyes as pure as the sky on a fresh, wintery morning. Ones that sucked him in and refused to let go. No one had her touch. Featherlight and warm. A touch that sizzled his insides and brought him to his knees.

  And no one had that pure, simple, cherry-vanilla scent. The sweetness that was only her, like she was a dessert made just for him. To lick, nibble, and enjoy.

  It was her.

  He drew back and slammed a closed fist on the porcelain sink. The base cracked and tore from the wall, and Xavier jolted to his full height. He would go out to the dance floor right then and find out. If it was her, he would tear her away from the man and hold her himself. Forever.

  Storming out of the bathroom, a new resolve propelling him forward, he heard the most in
convenient sound. The charity staff was starting the auction and calling out his name.

  He’d waited for Sophia for ten years—five more minutes wouldn’t kill him. Hopefully.

  As he strode to the front of the room, Xavier kept a keen eye on Sophia, making certain to see her reaction to his announced name. Her face darkened twelve shades as she peeled herself off the man with the roaming hands and skittered away from him, eyes wide as though he’d bitten her—Xavier wouldn’t have been surprised if he had. Her gaze locked on Xavier’s and held as he continued his march onstage. Smoothing down her hair, her eyes fluttered around as her lips moved quickly to the man by her side.

  Xavier stomped onto the stage, impatient and wanting nothing more than to grab Sophia and haul her out with him. He would, too…after he’d announced his special design for the show. He would make sure she was truly his Sophia. And if she was, he wasn’t leaving without her. Not this time.

  She appeared to watch him carefully, bumping into someone on the way back to her seat because her eyes wouldn’t leave his. And was she shaking? Her hands flittered around her dress as she scurried to her table, where three others were seated.

  His heart stopped as any doubt he’d had about Sophia disintegrated.

  The cold stare of Sophia’s mother made ice clamp down on the back of his neck. He’d remember that face—that look—anywhere. The last time he’d seen it was five years earlier when he’d gone to the woman’s house pleading to know where Sophia was. Right before she’d slammed the solid oak door in his face.

  And the older, pinched-face woman sitting next to Sophia’s mother shot daggers as well. She’d personally visited him in America when his fashion line began to take off. She apparently hadn’t liked all the contact he’d attempted to make with her granddaughter. She’d even brought him a very official cease-and-desist letter. According to the sour woman, he’d been interfering with Sophia’s life, and the family demanded it stopped.