Page 6 of The Bargain (Dalton Family #2)
Chapter Six
Sofia
H arper attempts to call me once a day for three straight days.
Considering Nick is MIA and I need my contract properly reviewed, rather quickly at this point, I’m beyond tempted to talk to her.
But at the core of that temptation is my need to be told Ethan wants me, and that’s not a healthy or smart reason to include her in my decision-making process.
Not only that, but it’s clear she’s weighed in his direction on all things, including me.
Which is all good and well, but as day four rolls around, with no communication from Nick, I’m losing my mind, certain that this deal is going to fall apart.
Harper said the contract looked good but I don’t know if that’s before or after she does whatever attorneys do.
I try to call Nick. I’m told he’s in court all week.
That’s it. I decide right then that if Harper calls again, I’ll talk to her.
Hours later, though, the silence is deafening but I find sanity in a rush of customers. When the calm sets in, and I’m alone and I’ve locked up, the store phone rings, and I rush to grab the line. “Zoey’s. Can I help you?”
“Sofia.”
Ethan’s rich and masculine voice hums through the phone line, sounding more like a seductive song than a mere greeting. Defensiveness bristles. “Seriously, Ethan? Why would you call this line? You tricked me into answering.”
“Would you have answered if I called your cellphone?”
“We’ll never know. Because you didn’t. And this is not six days.”
“Because four killed me more than I thought six would. Can we please talk?”
There’s a twist in my belly, a flicker of hope in my heart, and I tell myself this isn’t personal. He’s worried about the fashion line for some reason I do not fully understand. “I don’t have anything to talk about with you, Ethan.”
He’s silent a beat, then, “How about Paris?”
My heart flutters with the question, and I have no idea why I feel vulnerable and exposed, as if he’s asking me something deeply personal.
Which I guess it is, but it’s also not as personal as I’m making it.
The door chimes, and my heart lurches. “I forgot to lock up, and someone is here,” I say quickly. “I have to go.”
I hang up on him, and I forget the door, immediately wishing I could go back in time and undo what I just did, holding up my hands in distress before they plant on my head.
Why, why, why did I hang up on him? He’s my boss.
And I’m not a child. I have to get by the personal side of things to go to Paris. “Sofia?”
Our next-door neighbor Sara’s voice lifts from behind, and I turn as she appears in my line of sight.
Sara is forty, which was a crisis for her, as she runs a baby store and fears she’s aging out of relating to her clients.
She’s presently considering adding a kid’s clothing section she’d like me to design, because she’s that sweet.
“I went on a coffee run,” she says, “and somehow ordered an extra latte on my app. I thought if you’re working late, too, you might like it. ”
She’s the best, she really is, and I hate how much I’m struggling to smile and chat a bit with her, but all I can think of right now is me hanging up on Ethan.
And the minute she’s gone, I sit down on the ledge by the window and scold myself.
I’m the one who’s the problem here. We had sex.
It meant nothing, but I turned it into a huge ordeal.
I actually thought he created the design opportunity for me for personal reasons rather than professional ones.
He must have thought I was a crazy person to think he was that into me just because we got naked together.
The truth is, I should be pleased that he’s pursuing me for my designs, and I’m going to screw this up if I’m not careful.
I need to just be honest with Ethan about where I’m at with things and reassure him I’m a professional.
I set the coffee beside me, and with a stupid shaking hand, I punch in his number.
He answers on the first ring. “Sofia.” He speaks my name as if he’s held it on his tongue, waiting to finally speak it again.
And his voice does funny things to my belly that work against my intent to remain professional, but I push forward. “I’m sorry I hung up abruptly.”
“Why did you?”
“There really was someone here, the neighbor. Look, Ethan, I realize now that I’m just not good at separating business and personal. I’m not, but we met before the work thing, and that muddled things up and confused me. And I’m making a mess of this.”
“I’m fairly certain we did that together. Why did you leave, Sofia?”
“I’d really rather not say.”
“Do you really think I’m going to accept that answer?”
“No, of course you aren’t. Fine. If you must know, I saw you with your ex, and I felt— bad. ”
“That was nothing, Sofia. It was—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation. Just let it go, and I promise I will, too. I didn’t even want to tell you.”
“You should have stayed and talked to me.”
“To what end? Making things awkward?”
“Making things right , Sofia.”
“That’s what I’m doing now. I appreciate you believing in me and my designs, and I should have said that sooner.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t. I fretted over it seeming personal because I was making everything too personal.”
“You know there’s no good way to respond to that considering the current circumstances, not now, and not on the phone.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“You will.”
“I don’t know what that means, either.”
“You will,” he repeats. “Sign the contract.”
“My attorney’s been in court all week. If I can’t get with him tomorrow, I promise I’ll use Harper.”
“She would never screw you over. Neither will I.”
“I know that.”
“You don’t know, or a lot of things would be different right now, but that’s not your fault. I have to go. I have a late meeting. I’ll be expecting that contract. I’ll hold you to your word that it’s forthcoming. Goodnight, Sofia.” He disconnects.
I swallow hard and allow the phone to slide away from my ear, and I don’t know if I just made things better or worse between us.
And I’m really not sure why I want to call him back and ask him, but I won’t.
I push to my feet and shove my phone in my pocket.
He has a meeting. He wants the contract.
After it’s done, he lives an hour from where I’ll train.
I may not even see him in Paris. I may not ever see him again.
And I can’t seem to stop that from feeling bad.
Really, really bad.