AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Is it a vodka soda? Or maybe a gin and tonic? It’s clear, but has some kind of carbonation. She already puked once tonight and I have no desire to deal with it again. I’m well aware that I’m vacillating between thinking the worst of Sophie and admiring her conversational skills. Are she and Ms. Masterson trying to pull one over on me? Is this some kind of ploy? Deep down, I have to wonder if she’s drinking so heavily because she doesn’t want to be here. Especially with me.
She wouldn’t be the first woman to drink her way through a date with me.
With that thought, I’ve had all I can take of this evening. A glance at my watch reveals it’s not too early to make an exit, thank fuck. Turning to Sophie, I lean close, my lips nearly touching the shell of her ear. I can’t help myself, even if she’d rather drink her way through the evening than converse with me.
“I’m ready to leave. Did you want to finish your drink before we go?” At my words she pulls away, eyes wide, then she wraps her lips around the straw in her glass and sucks it down. Her cheeks hollow out and all I can picture is her doing the exact same thing but on her knees, with my cock between those luscious lips instead of a cheap plastic straw.
Something of my thought must show on my face because she ducks her head and mutters as she sets the glass down on the table. “It’s just seltzer. They didn’t have any tap water at the bar.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting that one.
“I’m ready to leave when you are.”
I can’t keep up with this woman or my own thoughts. Is she humoring me? Playing hard to get? She’s either entirely oblivious to the effect she has on me, and every other man in this room, or she’s a master of the game.
Standing, I take my leave of Morgan before offering her my elbow. Weaving our way through the crush, I can’t help noticing that the farther we get from the gala, the slower Sophie walks. Is she reluctant to leave? Or exhausted from the evening? I’ve flip-flopped between concern, irritation, awe, and judgment of this woman so many times in the last few hours that I can’t tell what my opinion of her is anymore.
“Thank you.” Her quiet words startle me from my thoughts as we wait at the valet stand for the limo to arrive. Her back is to me, the smooth slope of her neck dancing in front of my eyes. A short tendril of escaped hair catches my eye, daring me to sweep it aside.
“I’m sorry I was such a mess when the evening started. It’s been…a rough day. I hope I didn’t disappoint you. I tried my best.” She finishes with a shrug that turns into a shiver in the cooler evening air.
On instinct, I slide my jacket off, draping it around her shoulders. I follow that by running my hands down her arms, my need to touch her stronger than my sense of self-preservation.
“You were just fine.” The reassuring words slip off my tongue as easily as my hands slide back up her arms. That rogue tendril of hair caught in the collar of my jacket begs to be tugged free, and I give in. Gently, I pull it loose, the tips of my fingers grazing the back of her neck. Her soft gasp at my touch is my undoing, the vulnerability in it calling on every instinct I have to help her. I don’t even know what from, but I don’t care.
I’m saved by the arrival of the limo. Wordlessly, I open the door for her and she climbs into the backseat, sliding over to make room for me. “Do you want to talk about it?” I surprise myself that I genuinely want to know, before we’ve pulled away from the curb.
“Talk about what?” The darkness of the interior feels like a confessional of sorts, the streetlights flickering across her face. A place where secrets can be safely shared.
“Whatever upset you this evening. Before the gala.” I add.
“I really shouldn’t tell you, it’s personal.”
“And I’m your boss.”
Sophie nods at my words, bottom lip caught between her teeth, indecision written all over her features.
“Your scary boss,” I add, hoping to elicit a smile from her. Which I do. It’s a tiny smile, but a smile nonetheless.
“What I really want is to forget about it. Just for one night. I don’t want to be… me. Is one night too much to ask?”
Eight
Sophie
I don’t know why I asked it, other than this whole evening has been a roller coaster of emotions and all I want is to make it stop. I don’t care how, I just don’t want to be Sophie Alexander tonight. Making small talk, chatting as we walked through the crowd, I could pretend to be Elinor. But the moment it was just me and Mr. Sutton, it all came rushing back. Sitting here in the dark, in this limo, it threatens to overwhelm me again.
My ex-husband cheating on me for far longer than I knew.
The picture of him down on one knee, promising her the sun and the moon when he couldn’t even tell me he’d be home for dinner.
And I can’t deny the pull I feel towards Theo. If you’d asked me this morning, I would have said he was nothing but a cold, unfeeling shell of a man, who delighted in the way his employees scatter from his presence like cockroaches from a light. I’ve never heard him speak a kind word to anyone in the lobby, but then, I’ve only ever heard him on the phone, berating whoever dared to disappoint him that morning.
The Theodore Sutton I knew from work wouldn’t have asked a mere IT guy and his wife thoughtful questions about their sick daughter, nor would he have been so kind and sympathetic to her passing, even if it was over thirty years ago. The Theodore Sutton I imagined wouldn’t have made sure to put our empty whiskey glasses with the other dirty glasses on the bar top, he would have just left them wherever he felt and let someone else clean it up.
The Theodore Sutton I pictured would not have given me his coat jacket or steered me so carefully through the crowded room. And the Theo Sutton who passes my desk every morning never has this desperate, vulnerable look in his eyes, like I’m holding the keys to a treasure he’s hunted for his whole life.
“Elinor…” The way he growls the name lights me up like a firework. Tonight, I’m not pathetic Sophie Alexander, mother, forgotten ex-wife, doormat. I’m Elinor fucking Price.
