Page 51 of Always Mine
Sophia
Anyconcernsaboutfavoritismthanks to the Princi surname flew out the window quickly. It’s been almost two weeks since I started my new job, and I’ve all but followed in Raf’s footsteps and made a bed under my desk. Partly from the amount of work I have from being assigned to assist with all his case preparations. Partly to stop myself from turning up on Marco’s doorstep and begging for the celebration do-over he promised. I pull at the collar of my silk shirt at the thought. Just the idea of him, and all the ways he could deliver on that promise, makes heat bloom from the inside out.
Focus, Sophia!
I’m currently buried under research and drafting memos and briefs for Raf’s cases. Seb and Luca constantly give him a hard time about being a grumpy fucker, but working with him has given me a new respect for the responsibility he shoulders and the obscene amount of research involved in all the cases he’s the lead on. There’s little time left for a social life or dating—though I think he might have sworn off the latter after what happened a few years ago with his ex. The details are sketchy, but I can tell it’s affected him more than he’s willing to admit. I giggle at the memory of his face whenChiara called him Big Bad Raf. Zero fucks given and unlike most, completely undeterred by his surliness towards her.
My phone chirps with a text notification. I snatch it up quickly, closing my eyes and making the same wish for the umpteenth time.
“Please be Marco; please be Marco.”
I crack one eye open as I swipe my screen to reveal the name that appears. Arty.
I groan.
Arty:
Hey Sophia! A few of us are going out for drinks tonight.
Arty:
So far everyone’s in. Would be a great opportunity for you to network before the Law Gala.
Arty:
I’ve cleared it with the big boss, so you can’t say no this time.
It’s the third time he’s invited me out for drinks. I’m regretting tipsy, hot-headed Sophia’s life choices right now. Evie tried to be the voice of reason. Yet here I am contemplating how to avoid a mess of my own making. Again. Note to future self: listen to Evie.
Right on cue my father’s deep voice snags my attention. “Come on, Sophia. Time to wrap it up. You’ve been here well past any other first year every night since you’ve started.”
I look up from my phone to see him walking towards my desk. I cast my cell aside.
“I’ve just got a few more things to finish up and then I’ll come home. You head out; Mom is probably waiting for you to have dinner. I’ll eat later.”
He picks up the gold plaque Marco gave me from desk and turns it over in his hands, inspecting it like he’s testing its weight.
“No problem. I’ll let her know you’ll be home after you go have drinks with Arty.” It’s a statement. He’s telling me in his own special way what he expects me to do.
“Dad. I’m busy. I have no time for socializing right now.”
“Last time I checked, I’m the boss. I’m telling you that you’re done for the day. You’ve put in enough extra hours as it is. Your work ethic is commendable, but you need a social life too. You’ll burn out quickly if it’s all work and no play.”
He sets the plaque back down, the hard set of his jaw an indication of his feelings for the man who gave it to me.
“Besides, out of respect for me, Arty did the right thing and checked in with me to ensure you could step away from your cases for a night to go and network with your peers.”
I bite my tongue. His insistence grates on me and I don’t miss the underhanded slight against Marco and our dramatic exit from the New Year’s Eve party.
Between the brain power I’m using to wrap my head around my new job and the effort it’s taking to hold together the crumbling pieces of my willpower with each day there’s no contact from Marco—I’m too exhausted to argue with the man pulling strings he has no business touching.
“Fine.” I type back a quick response to Arty to accept the invitation and ask for an address.
“I’ll go for one drink to ‘network,’” I say with an eye roll, making inverted quote marks with my fingers.
What I don’t say is I could go have a million drinks with a million different men he approves of, but there’s only one who will fulfil all my dreams and desires in every way. Except I’m too shit-scared to admit it. Now I find myself filling the void of space and time I pleaded for with the last person he’d ever want me to be around. Guilt floods my body. I push it away, touch up my lipstick, and tell myself it’s just one drink. With a group of people. What could go wrong?
Chapter twenty-eight