Beyond Bliss

by Foster, Delia

  Sophie shot a narrow look towards her although her mind was reluctantly heading down the same path. They’d left her mother upstairs over twenty minutes ago.

  “Remind me again why I invited you?”

  “Because your life would be incredibly boring,” Liz mumbled, mouth full of cheese and crackers. “Not to mention I’m the reason you’re now getting orgasms on the regular.”

  “Liz!”

  The pregnant woman turned her head towards her husband. Mark had joined them shortly after they’d made it downstairs, looking sharp in his tux.

  “What? I’m pregnant,” she defended. “Hormones,” she added, shrugging unrepentantly before she swiped a canapé from a passing try.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Does this look like it has anchovies on it?”

  Sophie exchanged glances with Mark, fighting the urge to laugh when he rolled his eyes. Liz continued to frown at the open faced mini sandwich while Mark brought a finger up to his lips, signaling to Sophie for silence.

  “I know you’re rolling your eyes at me,” Liz muttered, barely batting an eyelash.

  Mark protested, but Sophie was distracted from the conversation when she felt her phone vibrate in her clutch.

  Her heart leapt.

  Lucas still hadn’t shown. He’d texted her earlier to let her know he’d be running behind, but she couldn’t help the feeling lurking somewhere inside that something was about to go dramatically wrong.

  And when she read the words that flashed on her screen, her blood ran cold.

  Lucas: Hi baby, still running behind.

  Lucas: We need to talk. Don’t leave until I get there.

  Lucas: Please wait for me.

  Numb, she stared at the phone, her eyes moving back and forth across letters and words, trying to make sense of it all. A strange sense of déjà vu settled over her.

  She was standing here in a gorgeous dress, waiting for the man to whom she’d given her heart.

  Suddenly Sean was in front of her, a tight smile straining on his handsome face. “Sophie, come grab a drink with me.”

  “What’s wrong Sean?” she asked flatly.

  “What, I can’t grab a drink with my favorite lawyer, who just so happens to be one of the most beautiful women on earth?” he smiled, boyish charm in full force.

  She looked at him hard. He’d recovered nicely after she asked her question, but by profession she’d been trained to look for the slightest of weaknesses. Before his glib response, his eyes had widened briefly and a dull flush crept up his neck.

  Liar.

  “Sean, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”

  A determined glint entered his blue eyes, and he grabbed for her elbow in an attempt to usher her towards the bar, when a familiar voice loudly interrupted the movement.

  “Get your filthy hands off her.”

  *****

  Sophie froze in shock.

  It couldn’t be.

  Sean stopped trying to corral her just as she forcefully pushed against his shoulder.

  “Zach?”

  Her voice was a bare whisper, yet it echoed loudly over the thrum of guests and party-goers.

  He stood only a few feet away. Handsome as ever, but it was the kind of male beauty that screamed sleaze.

  Why had she never seen it before?

  And strangely enough…

  It didn’t hurt. Her skin crawled, but as she took in the sight of the man who she’d once pledged to share her life with, she felt…

  Not.

  A.

  Thing.

  He straightened up, gracing her with a grim smile in return.

  “Sophie, we need to talk.”

  Again, the words from Lucas’s text screamed loud and clear in her head as the familiar sense of foreboding grew.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you, you lying, cheating asswipe.” Liz, her savior, had reappeared by her side and was now throwing punches and taking no prisoners.

  A collective gasp sounded from the immediate, surrounding audience as a mini-éclair landed on the sharp black collar of Zach’s tuxedo jacket.

  Sophie stifled a laugh at how completely ridiculous he looked, but Zach ignored Liz, instead sending a pained look in Sophie’s direction. “Sophie, please, I need to talk to you.”

  “Liz is right, I have nothing to say to you.” Her voice sounded hoarse to even her own ears. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

  She could have been mistaken or maybe he was just that great of an actor, but regret gleamed in his baby blue eyes.

  “Soph, I don’t want to do this here, but if you won’t talk to me in private, I don’t have a choice.”

  Her heartbeat pounded, blood racing through her veins until the sound drowned out everything else. Next to her, Sean stood shock still, and Grace had appeared at her side, confusion marring her brow as she looked between Zach and Sophie.

  “What don’t you have a choice about Zach?”

  “Please, can we do this somewhere else? I want to spare you any further embarrassment.”

  She laughed.

  She couldn’t help it.

  She fucking laughed.

  The sound itself was mirthless, but tears crept from the corners of her eyes nonetheless. “You want to spare me embarrassment? I let everyone think you left me at the altar because that was less embarrassing than the truth. You think you can top what you did to me? What don’t you have a choice about, Zach?” Her voice rose on that last note, hitching on the jagged edge of dread that coursed through her.

  Lucas still wasn’t here.

  Zach’s expression was pained as he looked at her, his eyes beseeching. “You need to know the truth about Lucas.”

  A stabbing pain shot through her chest when Lucas’s name fell from Zach’s lips and an ugly picture began to form.

  A myriad of possibilities, none of them pleasant.

  What could her past possibly have to do with her present?

  “What truth?” she nearly screamed. “Stop being so goddamned cryptic and tell me what you have to say.”

  Zach spoke and she struggled to piece together the words as they reached her ears.

  “What did you say?” she whispered tonelessly, certain that she couldn’t have heard him right.

  He repeated himself, and this time she understood each word loud and clear. As the meaning of his words sank in, the delicate stem of the champagne flute in her hands snapped.

  Dimly, she was aware of sticky, wet warmth coating her palms, but if there was any pain to be felt, she was numb.

  “He’s engaged to my sister.”

  *****

  The cab driver impatiently honked his horn, and Lucas let out a frustrated breath. He checked his phone again, but Sophie still hadn’t responded.

  “Fuck.” His clenched fist made a dent in the vinyl of the empty space next to him.

  “I don’t control the traffic, asshole.”

  He muttered a short apology but as each moment ticked by, his anxiety grew by leaps and bounds. He should have postponed the meeting with Zach, but he’d been so anxious to get the papers signed, he’d pushed his luck. Instead of explaining everything to the woman he adored, he now sat in gridlocked traffic on Park Avenue in midtown Manhattan.

  And now, it could cost him everything that mattered.

  He pressed her name again on the touchpad, but instead of ringing out until he reached her voicemail, the phone rang once, twice before sharply directing him to leave a message.

  “Fuck this,” he mumbled, drawing bills out of his wallet. He didn’t even look to see how much he tossed at the cab driver, oblivious to the sounds of cars honking and the driver yelling. He pushed through the throng of passers-by and tourists, ignoring the surprised shouts of alarm as he barreled down the fifteen blocks to the hotel. He barely broke a sweat, not stopping until he reached the entrance to the grand ballroom.

  “Mr. Sinclair.” Security guards, attired in black tie gear to better help them blend in with t
he guests, nodded at him. He pushed the doors open and came to a screeching halt at the sight before him.

  Sophie stood towards the double doors, clear and in his line of sight.

  Her form was swathed in dark green silk, setting off the natural highlights of dark hair that fell in soft waves against bare shoulders. Her posture was ramrod straight, and even though more than twenty feet separated them, she kept her face carefully expressionless.

  Blank.

  Desperately, he searched her eyes as long strides closed the distance between them. It was only when he stood a few feet away that he saw it.

  He’d had to look hard, past the frozen demeanor, but he knew her well enough to see it.

  Devastation.

  She stood, achingly beautiful and proud, and he had to curl his fingers into his hands to stop himself from reaching out to touch her.

  Beautiful, proud, and broken.

  “Sophie.”

  One word, her name. It was a plea, an entreaty. There was more meaning in the two syllables that left his mouth than just a call for her attention.

  He needed her to trust him.

  “Is it true?”

  “Yes and no. I need to explain.” He let out a frustrated breath, and tried to focus on Sophie. Zach, that cagey bastard, was hovering over her far too close for his liking. It dawned on him that his sister, and Sean stood in the small crowd gathered around Sophie.

  So did Liz.

  Her mother.

  His fucking driver.

  Fuck.

  Her lips turned up at the corner, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  “It’s not a yes and no question Lucas. It’s a yes or no.”

  “There’s more to it,” he rasped. The worlds felt harsh, like they scraped against his throat as he tried to stumble for an answer that would make the most sense in a short period of time.

  “It’s very simple,” she stated flatly. “Are you engaged?”

  The words burned as they left his mouth. “Not anymore.”

  “Were you engaged when we met?”

  He closed his eyes against the wave of nausea that twisted his gut, vicious and painful. “Yes, but—“

  Her gasp was soft, escaping her lips in a staggered fashion as she tried to even her breathing, but the sound cut into his ears like a pointed knife.

  “You knew about Zach, then? When I told you the truth, you knew what he’d been to me?”

  He nodded, resigned as Liz, Liz’s husband, and her mother closed ranks on her.

  “Why?”

  It was painful to look at the devastation that marred her beautiful features, the confusion and pain in her eyes, but it was even more unbearable to turn away.

  “Sophie, there’s more that you don’t know, I need to explain—“

  Zach’s harsh laugh cut through his plaintive words. “I can tell you why. Because Lucas Sinclair is a ruthless bastard and always wants what he can’t have. He and Megan were involved for years, since we were in college and we were frat brothers. After things turned sour between them, he tried to stick it to me every way he could, from buying up our businesses from underneath our nose to taking the one last thing he knew would destroy me. You, Sophie.”

  Her mouth parted, opened and closed, and he prayed for sound to come out. He wanted her to yell at him, to shout and scream and demand answers he would happily give her.

  She shut her eyes tight, as if praying for strength, but when she opened them once more, he knew he’d lost.

  He’d orchestrated nearly every moment between them, from the time he’d picked her up in the bar, to getting her to work with him, to even flying her mother out and arranging for their families to meet.

  Her eyes were bright, lashes barely tinged with moisture from suppressed tears as she looked him dead in the eye.

  “Get me out of here,” she whispered.

  It seemed as if time had frozen. No one in their little circle moved, until a desperate, strangled sound escaped from her mouth.

  “Get me out of here, now.”

  Something bumped against him, and he belated realized it was Liz’s protruding belly which just so happened to poke into his stomach right before her fingernail sharply connected with his chest. The other woman’s eyes burned with a sheen of moisture as she repeatedly stabbed her finger into his chest.

  “You did this. She was broken, and she put herself back together, and God only fucking knows she’s the best person outside of my husband that I have ever met in my entire life, but you,” she punctuated the word with another sharp jab, “You never deserved her, did you?”

  Helplessly, he stared at her. There wasn’t anything he could say to defend his actions.

  The tears spilled over in full force, then, as she nearly screamed at him. “Say something, motherfucker. Say something and take responsibility for what you did. At least fucking apologize!”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raw and gritty. “Sophie means the –“

  “No! That’s it! No more. You stay away from her. And you know what kills me the most out of all of this?” She stamped her feet, and he hoped she wouldn’t break her water. This couldn’t be good for her or her baby, but this train had been derailed long before he’d stepped foot into the ballroom.

  “Liz, please calm down. This can’t be good for you or the ba—“

  “Shut up! Don’t tell me to calm down fucker. What kills me the most is that I pushed her towards you. You ignorant, black-hearted, conniving bastard. I let this happen.” Finally overcome with tears, Liz was gently pulled away by her husband, who gave him a sharp look. He turned back, and saw Sophie moving purposefully toward the exit.

  His strong, beautiful girl.

  Her step only faltered when her mother placed a hand gently on the small of her back.

  Self-loathing consumed him.

  Then Zack trailed behind them, only pausing to turn and raise a brow at him, before he followed them out.

  Then pure rage ate at him.

  Drama over, he barely heard the whispers die down and the music return to loud.

  And then he was alone with overwhelming grief. He shut his eyes as tears burned beneath his eyelids, until a hard, smooth object was pressed into his hands.

  “Whiskey,” his little sister said matter-of-factly, staring after Sophie and her entourage. “Four fingers, neat.”

  “And there’s more coming from where that came from,” Sean added from beside her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “So you’re sure this is what you really want to do?”

  She gave him a small smile. They’d already discussed her decision to death, however, they hadn’t discussed the fiasco that had ensued after the incident at Lucas’s hotel, but there hadn’t been any need to.

  Everyone in her life seemed to already know by the next day.

  It was a myth that all sexy, handsome, rich men were constantly written about in the rag and on Page Six.

  That didn’t mean local blogs of Manhattan’s social scene hadn’t been littered with blind items alluding to one eligible, entrepreneurial bachelor, a legal ladylove, and a lover’s spat.

  Some audacious souls had even posted tweets and photos to Instagram directly to the company’s handle complete with a picture of Lucas standing there after she’d walked away, yearning written all over his face.

  Devastatingly handsome.

  Apparently, the public at large thought so as well.

  #Iwouldfuckhim

  #Girltakewhatyoucanget

  #Golddigger

  #Menlie

  #CanIhaveyourbaby?

  When she’d seen them, her fingers wrapped tightly around her phone as she battled the urge to toss it out the window.

  Instead, she settled for deleting the apps.

  If only she could erase the memory of him as easily…

  Her heart ached, so much so that sometimes she could swear it physically hurt, but in the last few weeks, she’d found that concentrating on other life-altering
decisions distracted her enough to ease the pain.

  Which was exactly why she stood in front of Carter now, in an old pair of battered jeans, a faded Yankees tee, and her hair up in a haphazard pony-tail.

  Her hands rested on either side of the cardboard box filled with her personal belongings, which she’d set on top of his desk when she’d walked in to say good-bye.

  “You’re like a daughter to me, you know that Sophie,” he said.

  She stared at him while he uttered the words then she blinked furiously to keep the moisture in her eyes at bay. Carter wasn’t known for his softer side, and a huge piece of her shriveled up at the thought that she’d disappointed him.

  “I know that. And I can never thank you for what you’ve done for me—“ her voice broke.

  “No need,” he said, his own voice thick, before adding jokingly, “It’s a good thing, Bernard hit a stroke of crazy fucking luck with his last poker game. Otherwise, he would have never shown his face, and we’d be up shit’s creek.”

  Carter grinned now, but she knew how stressful the events of the last few months had been on him. Even more bizarre, while on the lam, his college best friend had entered a high-stakes game of poker with a Saudi royal of both questionable intelligence and unlimited funds.

  Two weeks ago, he’d shown up on Carter’s doorstep, remorseful and repentant with a printed transaction record of a failed wire transfer into the firm’s accounts in the neighborhood of several millions.

  When Carter had relayed the story to them, Sophie and Liz had the same initial reaction to that tidbit.

  On what planet did Bernard exist on if he thought they would have kept the same account numbers from which he had embezzled?

  In the end, he’d gone to the bank with Carter by his side, watching carefully as the bank teller cut a cashier’s check for the same amount of the failed transaction. That afternoon, Carter had personally deposited the check into the firm’s account and returned to the office with enough champagne to inebriate everyone in the office.

  She stood on the main floor, and toasted her colleagues. Plastic party flutes tapped against one another, a cacophony of irritating but joyful sound.

  And the moment the first rush of liquid bubbled in her mouth, across her tongue to her throat, she knew.

  It happened just before the carbonated liquid pooled in her belly and rushed to her head.