AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I think I’ve found the exception to that rule.” She tilted her head in Jorge’s direction. Carl’s gaze followed the movement and his own lips thinned.
“Well, they say it’s the exception that proves the rule, don’t they?”
Sophie snorted. “Come on. I’m not going to run scared from a grumpy, bitter old man.” Carl strolled in Jorge’s direction, spine stiff. Sophie knew he didn’t like Henry’s father any more than she did, but Carl was part of Henry’s life, and so was Jorge, so they had to deal with each other.
“Jorge.” Carl wasn’t about to concede power by addressing the elder man as ‘Mr. Medina’. She saw the flare in his dark eyes and knew he’d noted the slight.
“Barrett, isn’t it?” Jorge barked, as if Carl hadn’t been Henry’s best friend for the last decade. He cut his black gaze to Sophie. “I see you brought the whore. Picking up my son’s cast-offs now?” He chortled.
Beside her, Carl jerked at the insult, nostrils flaring. Sophie squeezed his arm again. He blinked and shook himself, his easy smile sliding back into place. “Technically speaking, Henry didn’t do any casting off at all, actually. But Sophie is here only as my friend tonight.” The hand that wasn’t wrapped around his wineglass clenched into a fist.
If Jorge saw it, it didn’t faze him. In fact, it was probably responsible for the upward tick of his lips. A muscle in Carl’s jaw jumped. Sophie handed him her half full glass of champagne. “Would you mind going to get me a glass of Riesling? Champagne always gives me such a headache.”
Carl studied her face for a moment, obviously unsure if he should leave her with Jorge, but Sophie shook her head the tiniest bit. He gave a curt nod and excused himself.
Sophie turned back to Jorge as if they’d been having a pleasant conversation. “You were saying?”
“Henry’s here tonight with the right woman. Finally. No more trash.” His eyes flicked down Sophie’s dress contemptuously.
“Henry’s here tonight with you, Jorge. We both know you’re the one who brought Nicole along.”
Color flared in his wan, wrinkled cheeks. “Listen, you little harlot –”
“What I don’t understand,” Sophie continued, smiling as if Jorge hadn’t begun to spit venomous words at her, “is why you don’t just marry Nicole, if she’s such quality stock? Why foist her on Henry, who is so clearly unwilling?”
She’d seen them as Carl strode away into the crowd, but forced herself to keep her attention on Jorge. She let herself look now, though. Nicole’s arms were wrapped around Henry’s neck as if she were drowning, her slender body pressed to his as they moved through the steps of the dance. It was a rumba, a little spicy but not too fast. With Nicole’s arms around his neck instead of in proper position, Henry was forced to rest his hands lightly on her hips.
Sophie couldn’t miss the slight grimace twitching the corners of Henry’s mouth as Nicole moved slightly out of rhythm with the count, the sway of her hips vastly exaggerated. Nicole wasn’t a terrible dancer. She had a nice, fluid movement to her steps, but her rhythm was off and her stance sloppy. As they watched, Nicole kicked her leg up in an embellishment that was completely out of place with the music. Henry almost visibly flinched.
His form, of course, was perfect and elegant and sexy as hell. Sophie swallowed and turned her attention back to Jorge’s glower. “Well?”
“I considered it.” Jorge fiddled with his oxygen mask and took a long pull, as if the thought of Nicole’s ass required fortification. “But it was the difference between having a hot young wife spreading her thighs for me for a few years, or securing my legacy long after I’m dead. And no pussy is better than immortality
, Miss Becker. Not even yours.”
He meant to shock her with his words, but it didn’t work. She was more amazed that he sounded as if he was proud of his decision. As if giving up the chance to have sex with a woman who only wanted him for his money and passing her off to his son was a noble gesture.
Sophie’s eyes slid back to Henry. This was the man who had raised him. She marveled that there was any decency in him at all that Jorge hadn’t ground down. And there was. Whatever mistakes he’d made, and he had made some, even if they weren’t all the ones that she’d thought him guilty of, he was a decent man. Sophie smiled.
“Enjoy your immortality, Mr. Medina.”
He sputtered as she walked away from him, but she knew he wouldn’t call after her. Jorge Medina was too concerned with appearances to create a scene.
Unfortunately, her retreat was blocked after only a few steps by Carl, returning with her wine in hand and a bevy of tuxedo-wearing gentlemen at his back. He handed her the glass of Riesling and swept a hand at the men with a wink in her direction.
“Sophie, this is James Gannt. He’s the CEO of Gryphon Worldwide. That fellow in the bow tie there is Armbruster McCullough, but everyone just calls him Army. And these chaps are Michael and Phillip White. They’re all with Pan-Global Homes. Fellas, this vision of loveliness is my friend, Miss Sophie Becker.”
Sophie blinked, shaking each man’s hand in turn. James Gannt kissed her knuckles. “Ah yes, I remember, you were with Henry at The Garden last week.”
“A pleasure to meet you all. Are you friends of Carl’s as well?”
Carl chuckled. “Hard not to get to know each other with Henry dragging me to all his real estate functions over the years. These guys really know how to party at least, for developers.”
These men were real estate developers. Like Jorge. Like Henry.
“Have to find some way to liven up some of those conferences, eh, Barrett? Deadly dull.” Phillip set his empty glass on a passing black clad waiter’s tray and smiled again. “Would you like to dance, Miss Becker?”
She blinked in surprise at his sudden shift of topic. Her eyes flitted to the dance floor, where Nicole still draped over Henry like a scarf. A scarf with bad rhythm. Then her gaze slid to Carl, unsure. This hadn’t been part of her plan.
