Chapter 18

**A L E X**

The man at the door opens it wide for me to pass, a smile on his trained face. I stretch the corners of my lips wider only a bit to acknowledge him. On the inside, the environment is suffused with the scent of luxury, a mix of expensive perfumes and high-end fabrics. The boutique is all polished wood and gleaming glass, with racks of designer clothes displayed like art pieces.

Sophia is already engrossed in a conversation with one of the sales associates, her animated gestures making it clear she’s found something she likes. Grace Millers, on the other hand, stands a few feet away, her arms crossed and her expression a careful mask of indifference. Carlisle hovers nearby, too close for my liking, his eyes darting between the two women.

I stroll past a display of handbags that cost more than most people’s annual salary and stop near a rack of dresses. The sales associate approaches me, but a quick shake of my head sends her scurrying away. I don’t need help. I’m here to observe.

Sophia glances over her shoulder and spots me. She waves, her smile wide and genuine. I nod back, telling her to go ahead, and she disappears into the changing room. On the other side of the room, from the corner of my eyes, I watch as Carl once again nudges Grace forward. She acts reluctant when he pushes a baby pink dress into her hands, but I notice how her fingers linger on the fabric when she first touches it, suddenly too eager to feel more of it. I notice how her breath catches when he passes her a purse to go with it from the nearby stand. She looks at him, her resolve melting, deliberately of course, as she smiles in submission. But she doesn’t immediately get up, I watch her intently to realise what stops her–the pair of black heels with a ruby on both it’s heads and red strings tied up the calf of the mannequin. She bites her lips, waiting for him to get her hint without having to ask for it, but he fails to get it till the end as he pushes her into one of the other dressing rooms.

I unclench my jaw once she disappears from the room. Carlisle, finally free of his Grace-Miller’s-personal-fashion-consultant job, registers my presence and nods a ‘hey’. I return it with nothing but a blank glare that gets him visibly uncomfortable before he decides to look away and go back to pretending like I’m not here.

“You’re enjoying yourself.” I say in a low voice.

He scoffs as he turns to me. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

I watch him intently. At 6’2, he’s almost as tall as me. “I don’t know.” I step forward and shrug, too annoyed to mask my hostility. “Maybe the fact that our biggest deal of the year is on the verge of sabotage could maybe curb your spirit a little bit.”

He rolls his eyes, no he begins to, when I raise my eyebrows and catch him in the middle of it, and he stops and shakes his head. “Oh God, Alex. We both know that deal is in the pocket. The only thing that could stop it was Matteo’s cheap-ass and we’ve made sure he is on our yacht to join Sophia’s birthday celebration right now. He will be on water till late this evening. The deal is ours.”

He knows he’s right, I know he is right too, yet I can’t shake this weird feeling of annoyance and frustration. I open my mouth to let some of it out through whatever words form but right then one of the curtains slide to a side and… she walks out. Her feet bare, she decided to make the fact that she needs a pair of heels more apparent, I think. Her body wrapped in the pink silk gown that hangs from two ribbon strings that stretch around her collarbone to be tied at the back of her neck while the rest of it falls till her ankles covering almost all of her lower body leaving only a crescent of her leg showing, barely, from the slit that runs down her thighs separating the otherwise connected fabric. Her hair still tied in the messy bun, but I can tell she’s kept it so deliberately–so she could pull attention to the rest of her. Diplomatic as always. A look designed to make one stare.

The curtain before the one she walked out of, moves too, finally breaking the spell she has the room under. Sophie appears, dressed in a beautiful floral dress that ends at her knees and a matching choker. She is smiling, it is a beautiful sight.

“Wow,” Carl breaks the silence first moments after she appears. He throws his blazer on the sofa behind him and shakes his head in overexaggerated disbelief. I watch Sophie’s smile go from happy to elated as he walks up to her, confirming any doubts that I had about Lizzy’s claim from earlier. She likes him, it is apparent. In the way she turns a happy shade of bright pink when he walks up to her, and in the way she loses all colour whatsoever, when he walks past her to Grace Millers. He takes her hand in his and brings her forward to the centre of the room before giving her a twirl and an appreciative whistle. I watch this scene unfold with disgust as deep as I have ever felt, but that is nothing in comparison with the hurt I see Sophie go through as her smile falls, and her face turns pale. It reminds me of the 5-year-old Sophie who’s just lost her mother and stopped living herself. I had to stop this.

“Change.” I say it before I can think it through. My voice, loud and hoarse even to my ears.

Carlisle stops his dance and lets go of her hand. Grace Millers looks up at me with narrowed eyes and a frown of offence. “I’m sorry?” She speaks in a tone I’d never recognise as one being used to speak to me if she wasn’t glaring at me with murderous eyes while saying it.

“What you couldn’t hear?” I say stepping forward. Sophie steps between her and me before I can get too close, and I send her an internal ‘thank you’ for that, my face though doesn’t lose any harshness. It can’t till I’m facing Grace Millers. At 5’ nothing, Sophie is too short to block my view of her.

She watches me with bewilderment, as if she expects me to take it back. “Go back in, try something else.” I say every word calm and clear, the voice of the man who speaks tot be obeyed. And yet when she listens, and steals her gaze from me before disappearing behind the curtains, it takes me by surprise. And it’s not a good surprise.

I feel disappointed at her submission. That makes me a little disappointed in myself.