Unconditionally Mine

by Nadine Gonzalez

  She was nuts.

  Driving in circles, finding her way out of the parking lot, she wondered what had gotten into her. The first time they’d met, she was able to dismiss him pretty fast. But things had been different then. She had really been engaged, and now she was only pretending to be. Not pretending, she reasoned. She and Franco had privately ended their engagement. They simply hadn’t gone public with that information yet.

  Who was she kidding? Nothing about their situation was simple.

  She drummed the steering wheel. What to do now? It was only two thirty. She had a meeting at five. Leila Amis, a Realtor and friend, had recruited her to throw an open house for a new listing in Miami Beach. Part of her business had always focused on providing local Realtors with the services they needed. With the influx of foreign investors, Miami’s luxury real-estate market was thriving. Sofia was being offered more and more work. She could head back to her office to start on a concept or...

  Was Jonathan Gunther built like a boxer under that suit? Looked like it.

  For the love of God, Sofia!

  In need of a lifeline, she called Leila, who barely gave her a chance to say hi. “Hey! I know we agreed to meet at the house.” Her voice poured through the car speakers. “Any chance you can swing by the agency later to pick me up? My car is in the shop. It broke down on I-95 this morning. They towed it away. It was a mess.”

  Sofia looked up and around to better situate herself. She was at the junction of I-95, and all she’d have to do was head south to Brickell. “Any chance we can do this now? I’ve got time to kill.”

  “In that case,” Leila said, “I’m going to put you to work.”

  * * *

  Brickell was two things: a trendy neighborhood lined with luxury condo buildings and the center of Miami’s financial district, if one in fact existed. Joggers, dog walkers and professionals in business suits mingled on the sidewalks. The afternoon sunlight set the buildings’ mirrored surfaces on fire.

  Leila and her boyfriend, Nick, ran a boutique real-estate agency from one of the newer buildings. Sofia pulled up and spotted Leila out front chatting with the doorman. In a former life, Leila used to be a pageant queen and it showed in the way she walked. Sofia watched as she approached and elegantly lowered herself into the passenger seat. She wore a fitted cream jumpsuit that flattered her deep brown complexion.

  “First stop,” she said, “the downtown Hyatt. I have to meet with a client—five minutes, tops. Then we’ll head out to South Beach—can’t wait for you to see the listing. The photos I sent you don’t do it justice. Then maybe we could stop somewhere for drinks? Catch up a little.”

  Sofia eased back into the slow-moving traffic. “Or we could shop for a new car. Don’t you think it’s time for an upgrade?”

  Leila had been driving the same Mazda Miata for as long as Sofia had known her. She’d won it at a pageant, but her sentimental attachment to the thing bordered on ridiculous.

  Leila quickly switched topics. “Took a day off?”

  “Nope. Jury duty.”

  Leila made a face. “How did that go?”

  Sofia answered without thinking. “I had a good time.”

  “At jury duty?”

  Sofia scrambled to correct herself. “I had...a good book.”

  Leila was quiet for a while, messaging clients. They arrived at the Hyatt and Sofia waited in the car, listening to the radio, for at least fifteen minutes. Leila wrapped up her meeting and they headed out to Miami Beach.

  On the causeway, Sofia lowered the convertible top. The bay stretched out on either side of the strip. As the breeze tossed her hair, she felt a tinge of excitement. She was eager to visit this house. She’d thought the photos were spectacular and had instantly fallen for the house’s modern design and open layout. But Leila was right: there was nothing like touring a house to get a feel for it. Her father owned a construction company and all her life she’d toured homes at various stages of development. Even the most cookie-cutter of homes had a personality. Which reminded her of something. Nick and Leila had been renovating a house in Bayshore for the better part of a year. Some days it was all Leila could talk about.

  “How’s progress on Barbie’s dream house?” Sofia asked, knowing she’d regret it.

  “There’ve been some delays getting permits for the garage,” Leila replied. “It’s pissing Nick off. But did I tell you about the custom furniture?”

  “Many times.”

  Leila squealed. “I get a sneak peek of the living room furniture tomorrow.”

  “Good luck sleeping tonight!” Sofia teased.

  “I’ve got a question for you, smart-ass,” Leila said. “When’s the wedding? Forget car shopping. Why aren’t we out shopping for a gown right now?”

  “Did my mom put you up to this?” Sofia asked.

  “You put me up to this. What kind of maid of honor would I be if I didn’t ask?”

  Sofia’s cousin, Mercedes, was her official maid of honor; Sofia’s mother had insisted on it. Leila had agreed to sign on as the de facto maid of honor. But none of that mattered anyway, since there’d be no wedding. If Leila wanted to plan a wedding so badly, maybe she should drop Nick a hint.

  “I thought you wanted a summer wedding,” Leila persisted. “Summer is around the corner.”

  “A summer wedding was a dumb idea,” Sofia said. “I’d melt in the heat.”

  “What do you think about Christmas?” Leila asked.

  “I’m not thinking, Leila,” Sofia said. “I’m focusing on my parents’ anniversary party.”

  That was her go-to excuse, but a lame one. Everyone who knew her knew damn well that she could plan ten major events and a kids’ tea party all at the same time.

  “When’s that again?” Leila asked.

  “Next month,” Sofia said, tense. “Then I’m free.”

  “Good.”

  Leila’s phone chimed again. She typed a text message and said, “By the way, a client is waiting for us at the house. I promised him an early look at this property before it hits the market. Oh, and I’m taking Brie to a Heat game next week. It’s her birthday. Wanna come? Make it a girls’ night?”

  Brie was Leila’s assistant, who’d been with her through tough times and now, it seemed, really good times.

  “Sure,” Sofia replied absently. “Girls’ night!”

  “We’re almost there,” Leila said. “Head north on Alton.”

  “Will your client mind my being there?” Sofia asked.

  “No, he’ll love it,” Leila said. “Hotshot lawyer. You know the type.”

  Sofia shrugged off the cold hand of dread. Don’t be paranoid, she told herself. Miami was crawling with hotshot lawyers.

  “Last house on the block. Pull up to the gate.”

  They were still some feet away, but Sofia could see the property walled off from the busy street and overflowing with tropical flowers. She let out a low whistle. “It’s like an oasis.”

  “Go ahead and park at the curb behind that Porsche,” Leila said. “I don’t have the clicker for the gate.”

  Oh, no, no, no, no, no! Sofia hit the breaks and came to an abrupt stop, sending Leila lurching forward and her purse tumbling to the car floor.

  “Hey!” Leila cried.

  What were the damn odds? When she’d left the note on the windshield of that same Porsche, the plan was to never see the owner again. She’d made fuzzy choices all day, but on that point she’d been very clear.

  “You know what?” Sofia said, trying to buy time.

  Leila smoothed her straight black hair. “What?”

  “I should go.”

  “Go where? We’ve got work to do! I want to hear your ideas for the open house.”

  “I don’t feel so well.”

  “Have you eaten today?”

  At first gl
ance, the Porsche appeared to be sitting empty, but now the driver’s door swung open and Jonathan Gunther—all six feet and however many inches of him—got out.

  I’m going to lose it today.

  “That’s my client,” Leila whispered. “You’re welcome.”

  Sofia shrunk behind the wheel. With the top down, there was nowhere else to hide. Drivers stuck behind her were honking, and Leila nudged her in the ribs.

  “Sofia, you’re holding up traffic.”

  Other than pushing Leila out of her car, what choice did she have? She pulled up to the curb but refused to cut off the engine.

  Jon came around to the passenger side and leaned down low. He flashed them the smile of a Viking conqueror.

  “Jon,” Leila said. “This is my friend Sofia Silva. She’s a real-estate event planner. Sofia is planning our open house.”

  Those brown eyes pinned her in place. “Hi, Sofia. I’m Jon.”

  Sofia nodded and said nothing.

  “She’s not feeling so well,” Leila explained.

  Sofia gripped the steering wheel. When did Leila become such a chatterbox?

  “Something you ate?” Jon asked innocently.

  “I bet she hasn’t eaten all day. This woman lives on coffee.” Leila frowned. “I think she should come inside.”

  “She absolutely should.”

  Sofia had the feeling of having walked onto the set of a comedy sketch. The best thing, the smart thing, would be to speed off, leaving these two jokers in the dust. And yet, when Jon held open the car door for Leila, and she stepped out and gave him the briefest of hugs, Sofia felt a twinge of...envy.

  “You’d be doing me a favor if you stayed,” Jon said. “I need a pair of objective eyes.”

  “Well, good luck with that,” Leila said. “Sofia’s already in love with the place. She thinks it’s an oasis.”

  Like any true oasis, Sofia thought, it was proving to be an illusion.

  “Sofia, are you in love?” Jon asked.

  “No. I don’t fall that easily.”

  “Good. I’d hate it if you did.”

  “And I’d love it if we got around to seeing the house,” Leila said. “That’s what we’re here for. Come on, Sofia! Let’s go!”

  Chapter 4

  While Leila unlocked the gate, Jon couldn’t get over his luck. Why were they playing this game? He wasn’t sure. Jon was taking his cues from her, and she’d turned white with panic at seeing him again. This told him something: their encounter hadn’t been casual. It hadn’t been for him and now, obviously not for her, either.

  The gate gave way to a lush green space filled with colorful flowers. A compact white house with modern lines and wide glass panels was tucked deep in the yard. Jon paid attention as Leila listed the pros and cons. Pro: the Alton Road location placed it at only a short bike, bus or Vespa ride away from Lincoln Road, the clubs and the beach. Con: the Alton Road location and its legendary congestion and chaos, which turned off most buyers.

  “I mean if a kid kicks a ball into the street and chases after it, that kid will get flattened by a Lamborghini,” Leila said. “That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Is this your best sales pitch?” Jon asked.

  “I’m looking out for your best interests.”

  A tax attorney at his firm had referred him to Leila’s agency. Jon enjoyed working with her. She was patient, never pushy and committed to finding him something reasonable and affordable. They were becoming fast friends.

  “What did I tell you about being so ethical?” he teased.

  The wide front door was unremarkable except for the exotic grain of the wood. Jon took hold of the industrial hardware. “I like this.”

  “I thought you would,” Leila said. “This house is made for a man like you.”

  “Meaning?”

  The question came from Sofia who had trailed behind, admiring the spare landscaping as if lifted from the Luxembourg Gardens. Jon loved her curiosity—where he was concerned.

  “It’s not quite the bachelor pad you need,” Leila explained. “But it has the look, you know?”

  Jon wasn’t looking for a pad, but a sanctuary. He worked long hours and needed someplace comfortable and calm to come home to. He had a good feeling about this house. The street noise was an issue, but the high-impact windows would block out most of it. He didn’t have a kid to worry about, and he knew to look both ways before crossing the street, whether or not he was chasing after a ball.

  Leila let them in and went ahead, switching on lights and pulling back drapes. Jon waited for Sofia who was, it now seemed obvious, deliberately trailing behind.

  “It’s been a couple of hours,” he said. “Missed me?”

  “For the record,” she said, stepping up to him, “I didn’t know she was meeting you.”

  “For the record, I know you’re not too upset about it.” He was over the moon about it. He’d thought she’d slipped away, and had considered asking his firm for the name of the event-planning business that had thrown his welcome party. Which reminded him of something. “Since when are you a real-estate event planner?”

  “Since always!” she snapped.

  “Come in, guys,” Leila said. “Feel free to look around, ask questions.”

  Most Miami houses looked the same to Jon. A large main room generally opened to some kind of back patio. This one had clean uncluttered lines, and it was kind of sexy. The floors were the color of porcelain. A glass spiral staircase led to the second floor. What struck him was the wall of windows, two stories high, which framed the yard and pool. Midnight swim, anyone?

  Sofia walked past him. “Does it come fully furnished?”

  Jon gave the living room furniture a second look. The chocolate leather couch looked delicious. A glass coffee table caught the light of the starburst chandelier hanging above it.

  “Look who’s suddenly interested in furniture!” Leila observed.

  “Just curious,” Sofia said.

  “The furniture is not included.” Leila explained the house was staged for effect.

  Then she led them into the kitchen. The narrow space was made bright with pale wood cabinets and strategically placed recessed lighting. Leila pointed out the golden Italian marble counter. “This definitely comes with the house.”

  “Gorgeous,” Jon said. He watched Sofia run a hand over the glossy countertop. The woman was gorgeous.

  “You have a good eye,” Leila said. “Most men don’t.”

  “Can’t take my eyes off it.”

  Sofia glanced over her shoulder at him and quickly turned away. Her cheeks had that rich wine color he liked so much.

  “This is where you’ll make breakfast for your women friends,” Sofia said innocently. “Since this is meant to be a bachelor pad and all.”

  “I’ve got a Keurig,” he replied. “They’ll get coffee. Or tea.”

  “Coffee or tea? Wow!” Sofia exclaimed. “You must sweep them off their feet.”

  “I do all right.”

  “Let’s check out the yard,” Leila said. “It’s killer.”

  The kitchen opened to the yard with a framed glass door. It seemed to Jon the entire rear facade of the house was glass, a smoky glass that revealed nothing. The yard was modern day tropical. There were some grass and palm trees along the property wall, but mostly a slate-gray tile extended right up to the edge of a long rectangular pool. A “negative edge” pool, as Leila described it. Jon watched Sofia walk over to a canopy daybed and pull back the gauzy white cotton curtains. When drawn tight, he imagined they offered complete seclusion.

  Sofia sank into the soft mattress. “Is this included?”

  “None of it!” Leila snapped. “None of it is included.”

  Sofia raised her hands. “Okay! Okay!”

  Jon liked their chemistry, or lack thereo
f. They clearly had a bond that could take a blow or two.

  “I’m thinking about a sunset affair,” Sofia said. “For the open house, I mean. Sangria at sunset.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Leila said.

  “Can I come?” Jon asked.

  Leila’s phone rang. Before answering, she said, “Buy this house and you could invite us over for sangrias.”

  Leila wandered off with the phone glued to her ear. Jon joined Sofia at the daybed. He wanted her opinion on the place. Did she like it? Did she swim? Would she come over for brunch? Would she stay the night?

  He asked none of those questions, taken aback by her serious expression.

  “Isn’t this too much house for you?” she asked.

  “For me alone, maybe,” he said. “Don’t you like it?”

  “I’m not the one you should ask that question.”

  “Oh, yes. I forgot,” he said. “You’re off-the-market.”

  She got up, crossed the yard to the pool. She stood at the water’s edge, looking down. He joined her there and said the one true thing he could think of.

  “I missed you after you were gone.”

  This time, in her haste to escape him, she nearly fell into the pool. Jon caught her just before she went plunging into the deep end. She clung to him, her hands gripping his shoulders. He could feel her heart.

  “I got you,” he whispered.

  She nodded, as though accepting this as fact.

  Leila came skipping back. “That was Nick. He’s on his way over. How about we check out the bedrooms? The master suite is sexy.”

  Chapter 5

  Two in the morning and Sofia was smarting over the fact that Jon hadn’t remembered her right away. She got out of bed, went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. It had taken him half the day to figure out when and where they’d met. Meanwhile, it had taken her only a few seconds. Her life had changed so drastically since their first meeting, it would have been understandable if she’d forgotten all about him. And yet, she hadn’t.