by Lucy Leroux
“Hi.”
He sat back down after her lackluster greeting, looking her up and down.
“Sophie darling, you look smashing. New dress?”
“Yes,” she muttered, ignoring his scrunity while she went over the paperwork.
Wait for it.
“It’s a little form-fitting, isn’t it?”
There it is.
She clenched her teeth before forcing herself to relax and answer.
“That’s the idea,” she said, managing to keep her tone pleasant.
“Darling, you know that I didn’t mean anything by that. You were always so sensitive about your outfits,” he said, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle on his lap.
Because you were always criticizing them. He’d been like her father that way. If her curves were visible, she would be gently chided about “flaunting” herself.
“Sometimes it’s nice to change things up,” she said leaning back with a cool glance. “I see you’re still sporting the same urbane professor uniform.”
He was wearing a button-down shirt paired with a tweed sports coat, the kind with suede patches at the elbows. Since it was Saturday, he’d gone with an informal chino in place of his usual pair of slacks. She used to think his was the perfect style on a man, but these days she much preferred the GQ look. A clean tailored suit and tie was much more sophisticated.
Without waiting for him to answer, she stood and went to the counter to order something to eat. She was disappointed when she was given a little number to display on her table, instead of waiting up front for her food.
“New system?” she asked the barista.
He gave her a big grin and nodded. Refraining from giving him a dirty look, she turned back to the table, stiffing him on the tip. But true to form, she immediately felt guilty and returned to stick a five pound note in the tip jar.
The walk back to the armchair was exhausting. She sat down with a thump, taking out her pen. Wasting no more time, she started signing and initialing as needed.
Just think of that big bottle of Bordeaux Kelly has waiting for you.
“Darling…”
“I thought we established that I’m not your darling around six months ago.”
Richard gave her a little moue of distress. “You know that was a mistake. In fact, I’ve been wanting to speak to you about our relationship,” he said, leaning over to put his hand on her arm to stay her pen.
Stiffening, she shook his hand off.
“My parents are in town,” he said. “They’re here to see the house. I thought we could have dinner with them.”
Her mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. She was literally speechless. Gaping like a fish, she clenched her hand around the pen until the boiling white hot rage caught up with her.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Richard gave her one of his patented disapproving glares, the one that made his face thin and pinched. He had an assortment of them, although this was his favorite.
“Darling, don’t be vulgar.”
Sophia took a deep breath and counted to ten. “We were together for two years and not once did you offer to introduce me to your parents!”
“Sophie be reasonable. They retired to Spain and never visited, or you would have met them.”
She pointed the pen at him, resisting the urge to throw it at his face. “I know for a fact they visited twice, once for your birthday and another for your cousin’s wedding—a wedding you didn’t invite me to.”
He huffed and picked at his sleeve. “You were busy at work the weekend of the wedding. And we had just started dating when they visited the first time. It was too soon.”
Do not stab him with the pen. Do not stab him with the pen.
“We were together for four months by then,” she ground out. “And I would have rearranged my work thing if you’d asked. Not to mention the fact you went to see them in Spain twice a year, and you never asked me to go with you.”
“Their place in Seville is too small to entertain. You know that.”
It was the same excuse she’d heard a million times. The truth was that Richard hadn’t wanted her to meet his parents because he’d been ashamed of her. It didn’t matter that she was his mentor’s daughter. She her mother's mirror image in looks and demeanor, and someone like her didn’t fit in the Selwyn’s aristocratic world.
Richard had made that clear often enough with his less than subtle hints about her weight and his gifts of gym memberships and exercise equipment. His was an existence best suited for skinny blondes who could wear jodhpurs without looking ridiculous.
The arrival of her cream tea interrupted her inner rant. Richard’s opinion of her no longer mattered. She was in a good place with Gio. That man was crazy about her. He loved her body exactly the way it was. The fact that he was a gorgeous billionaire was the universe’s way of making up for her past relationship.
Plus all the sex is making me toned.
With that thought, she calmed down and reached for one of her scones. She spread a generous amount of clotted cream on top and took a big bite.
“Mmm.” It was delicious, and she berated herself for giving them up when she started dating Richard. With a little smile, she added more clotted cream and took another bite.
She glanced over her pastry to see Richard staring pointedly at her scone. Smiling like a cat who got the cream, she slowly reached for her knife and added another dollop, making a production of polishing off her plate. She ate the whole scone and then the other, in the most eloquent fuck you gesture she could manage.
Richard sat there with an air of resigned patience while she finished. “Have you decided to sell me the car?”
“Yes, you can have it.”
It was unreliable anyway, and she only had one parking space at her apartment.
“Thank you, darling. Now about dinner—”
“I won’t be attending,” she said with a sigh.
“If you’re worried about them not approving of you, you shouldn’t be concerned. I told them all about you, and your recent accolades. They’re excited to meet you.”
She held up a hand. “Oh my God, stop! I won’t be meeting them because my boyfriend would think it was weird, like I think it’s weird. You and I aren’t a couple anymore, and I’ve moved on.”
Richard’s head drew back, and he frowned. “I wasn’t aware that you were seeing anyone.”
“It’s recent. I met Gio on vacation. He’s Italian.”
“Oh.” His lips pursed tightly. “So…this man followed you home? Is he unemployed or something?”
There was the condescending note again. “Actually, he’s a banker.”
A polite nod. “Is he a clerk?”
She suddenly hated herself for assuming the same thing once upon a time.
“No. He runs the bank. He’s Gio Morgese, of the Morgese Foundation.”
Richard couldn’t hide his surprise. “The one that gave you your grant? Well, that’s…nice. I suppose you met at the awards dinner.”
It wasn’t a real question so she didn’t bother to correct him. In fact, she didn’t want to talk to him about Gio anymore.
As much as she wanted to rub her new relationship in Richard’s face, it felt wrong. What she had now was too precious to discuss with her ex. She had no desire to sully her bright and shiny new memories with Richard’s judgments.
“You should take Bernice to dinner,” she added blandly, flicking a crumb off her lap.
Across from her, Richard’s mouth tightened. “I told you that was nothing. She kissed me, not the other way around.”
“Sure she did. And you tripped and fell on her lips the second time.”
“What?”‘
“I saw you kiss her twice. You kissed twice in your office.”
“Darling—”
“My fault, really. I should have called ahead to let you know I was coming by for my keys. Although, I should add
that having an affair with your teaching assistant is a little cliché. But you were my father’s protégé, so of course you learned from the best.”
“Really, Sophia. I explained that. And technically you had broken up with me the night before. Bernice was trying to console me—not that I wanted her to. I had to have a very uncomfortable talk with her afterward.”
He sounded genuinely aggrieved and hurt by her lack of trust. There had been a time when she would have felt guilty for doubting him. Richard had a way of doing that to a person. Everything he said sounded so reasonable and dignified that you forgot he was a condescending lying jerk.
Truthfully, she didn’t have proof that he cheated with Bernice. The only physical contact she’d witnessed between the two of them was post-breakup. Immediately post break-up. But she had her suspicions before. She’d let them go at the time, but now in hindsight she knew he had cheated.
“I remember your explanation,” she said. “I also remember saying I never wanted to see you again, but you wanted the house, so here I am.”
“What about the car?”
Count to ten. One…two…
“We can handle the car by email,” she said, trying not to sound as irritated as she felt.
He pursed his lips. “If you insist. But you should stop by your father’s house. I’ve been going through his study. I think there are some of your mother’s belongings in there.”
Perfect, just perfect. Couldn’t the universe cut her some slack? “If that’s the case, I want them.”
“So when would you like to stop by?”
Gritting her teeth, she silently conceded defeat. She didn’t want to go to her father’s house but what choice did she have now?
“I’ll get back to you. My plate’s a little full right at the moment.”
“Yes, it would appear so.”
Richard’s tone was distracted, and she realized he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Confused, she glanced over her shoulder through the plate glass window behind them.
A gorgeous Italian billionaire was standing on the sidewalk, staring at her possessively. His suit still appeared as crisp and clean as it had this morning, but then he always managed to stay neat and perfect. It would have been irritating if he wasn’t so hot.
“So that’s Gio Morgese. He looks very…sophisticated.” Richard’s tone implied just the opposite. “I didn’t realize he was going to be picking you up.”
Neither did I.
“He’s shorter in person, isn’t he?”
No, he’s taller.
Outside, Gio gave her a little nod, his hands in his pockets.
She shot to her feet and grabbed her purse. “I have to run, Richard. I’ll get back to you about coming around to the house.”
“Fine, darling, fine,” he said absently, trying to be subtle about the close inspection of his replacement.
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she hurried outside before Gio decided to come inside—she could smell the testosterone from here.
Chapter 15
Richard is trying to get her back.
It was obvious. The man kept leaning in and trying to touch her hand, even when she was signing paperwork, for crying out loud.
And there he goes again.
One more, and Gio was going to go in there to beat the crap out of the good professor. He looked like an academic, too—of the overbred chinless variety.
Except he had a chin. Richard wasn’t hideously ugly, as much as Gio wanted to believe otherwise. He had those pale good looks of the English upper class, the weak kind that would fall apart in middle age. No doubt Richard did well with women in the University environment, where sheltered co-eds were easily impressed by a clever turn of phrase and a tweed coat.
Gio stood outside stewing until his fixed attention was noticed by the occupants of the cafe. Sophia turned and saw him waiting on the sidewalk. She didn’t look happy to see him. Perhaps he should have warned her he was coming back early.
She didn’t waste any time saying goodbye to her ex. Fortunately, for his equilibrium, all Richard received was a distracted wave as she headed for the door.
“Bongiorno, mi amore,” he said, putting his arms around her and giving her a warm and very visible kiss.
He didn’t fool her for a second. She gave him an exasperated glare and pulled him down the street, away from the cafe, putting on her coat and scarf as they went.
“What are you doing here?”
Merda, she sounded mad.
“You said you were meeting Richard at the cafe near Kelly’s place. That is her place, isn’t it?” he asked, gesturing across the street.
“I meant, why aren’t you in London?”
“My meeting was rescheduled so I headed back early.”
“Of course it was.”
Red warning lights started flashing in his head, but he ignored them. “What does that mean?”
She stopped and spun around to face him. “It means, did you reschedule it or did the other guy?”
“My associate canceled,” he lied.
Sophia’s lips pursed and she tapped her foot. Even when she was angry, she was so damn sexy.
“Gio.”
Distracted by the delicious fullness of her lips, he’d lost his train of thought, a dangerous thing when a woman was irritated with you.
“Yes, bella mia?”
“Don’t bella mia me. I know you came back early because I was meeting Richard. But there was no reason to. You don’t have to be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” he protested, growing warm despite the sharp bite in the air.
“If you’re not, then what are you doing here?”
“I was concerned,” he said, reaching over to adjust the scarf inadequately covering her. He wrapped it around her neck and closed her coat more firmly against the wind.
Her face softened, and she put a hand over his. “There’s no reason to be.”
Was she serious? He threw up his hands, finally losing his patience.
“Sophia, that man called you ten times a day when we were in Italy. He’s stalking you!”
She laughed.
“It’s not funny.”
Sobering, she wiped the smile off her face and tilted her head at him. “It would be if you knew him. Richard never does anything if it’s the slightest bit inconvenient for him. Stalking anyone would be too much of a strain. But he is a pest ’cause he refuses to text on principle. He wrote a paper on how texting and instant messaging is destroying civilization. And if you’re ignoring his voicemails, like I have been since the breakup, he calls and calls until you give up and answer.”
“So he’s a luddite. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s trying to win you back,” he said.
Sophia stopped and for a moment she looked young and confused. “Yeah, maybe, but I'm not sure why.”
Her voice was soft and her eyes were distant like she was mulling it over.
“For the obvious reasons,” he said, a little sharply.
That got her attention. Her eyes met his and she cocked her head at him. “And what are those?”
Time seemed to stand still while as he gazed into her gingerbread brown eyes. “You’re beautiful, smart, funny…you’re everything.”
“Damn.”
“What?”
“I want to stay mad at you, and then you go and say a thing like that.”
His shoulders relaxed. “I’m not wrong about any of it. I didn’t like the look on his face now. He’s not safe to be around.”
He could tell she was trying hard not to laugh again, so he threw an arm around her and pulled her into his side. “But you’re right. I have no reason to be jealous. This is the end. You signed the papers for the house and you don’t have to see him again, right?”
Sophia wrinkled her nose and mumbled something.
“I didn’t catch that.”
Hesitating, she glanced up at him and then a
way. “I told him he could have the car, too.”
“Sophia, really!”
“Calm down and stop waving like you’re being attacked by a bee. People are starting to stare.”
He looked around, spotting a pair of track-suited geriatrics watching them curiously.
“I’ll buy the car,” he said.
“No. I don’t want it around. It’s a piece of junk with terrible mileage. The backseat is broken, too. I’d rather let Richard have it since he cares so much. If my father had bothered to leave a will, he’d probably have given it to him, anyway.”
That didn’t make him feel any better. “Are you sure that’s what you want? You might regret giving that last piece of your father away someday. Then you’ll have to deal with your ex to get it back.”
“Trust me, I won’t want it back.”
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down at the screen. It was a text from Richard, with a message he could see clearly over her shoulder.
Please call me if you need help with the Italian.
“Figlio di troia. Is he serious?” Gio growled, snatching up her phone. “I thought he didn’t text on principle.”
Sophia avoided his eyes. “It’s the first text he’s ever sent me.”
And it was about him, offering help as if he was some kind of villain.
Because God hated him, the phone buzzed again and he lost it. He snatched the device from her hands and threw it into the middle of the street where it was immediately run over by a passing car.
“Gio!”
Shocked at his own behavior, he froze.
“Goddammit, Gio, all of my contacts were in there, my calendar—”
He grabbed her hand. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
He looked at the phone, wondering if it had survived when another car, a bigger one, ran over it a second time. Wincing, he squeezed Sophia’s fingers until she met his eyes.
“I’ll buy you a new one—a better one. The most expensive one money can buy.”
She glared at him. “I don’t want a more expensive one. I want that one,” she said, pointing at the wreckage that used to be her phone.
He cringed. It was in several large pieces now.
“I can run out and grab it. My tech guys from the bank might be able to recover some data from the SIM card,” he offered, preparing to dart out into the busy street.