by Caro LaFever
The accusation cut right to the bone. She’d known he’d attack and she’d been prepared for it, but the words still hurt and crushed. For a moment, her confidence, along with her courage, teetered.
“You’re wrong this time.” He kept coming at her, just as she’d known he would. The man would fight until the end for this stupid farce of a life he didn’t belong in. “You’re all wrong.”
She was all right, completely right for him. For the man who laughed on his horse and wore ragged jeans and drew beautiful, simple designs. She was all wrong for this man standing before her. For the Perfect Man with his need to dominate, his desire to destroy his very soul.
“You’re right.” She tucked her hands under her arms and took in a deep breath. “I’m all wrong. For you.”
The crowd around them muttered and questioned. Was this only an argument? Was this just a lovers’ spat?
But Alex knew better. She saw it in the line of his tight jaw and the hate in his eyes. “Why, Sophia? Why?”
“Pour l’amour de l’amour.” she said simply. “For love’s sake.”
Chapter 24
It was a very good thing Sophia Charlotte Feuer always took the first week of January off. Because if she’d been obliged to drag her sorry body and broken heart to the bakery in the state she’d been during the last few days…
She’d have preempted any action by Alex to shut her down by accomplishing it herself. She’d have thrown salt into the mixer instead of sugar or baked her fruit tarts with spoiled strawberries.
So it was a good thing she’d been sitting in her lonely apartment surrounded by tissues and chocolate and liquor.
None of which seemed to have done the trick of brightening her outlook on life.
Because every day, like a fool, she checked the internet. Finding story after story about her ex-fake-fiancé.
The Perfect Man Gets Dropped Again!
Perfect Couple No. 2 No More!
Top Chef Splits With Alexander The Great!
Those headlines were bad enough. They hurt her heart, but not her brain because she realized, after a long week of introspection, that the Alex she knew wasn’t what she wanted even if he came on bended knee. No, the man was confused in his head and heart. She deserved the best of a man, not the worst of two competing souls in one body.
This didn’t mean the tears hadn’t fallen. They had. They’d been tears of disillusionment and disappointment, though. Alex Stravoudas had decided to stifle himself in a suit of perfect armor—armor that prevented him from becoming who he really was. The man she’d fallen in love with.
She cried. For a week.
And stupidly kept reading the internet.
The headlines that hurt her heart and her brain were the ones coming from the financial sector.
Stravoudas and Kluge, Inc. Lose a Mid-East Deal
IPO for Architectural Firm Delayed Indefinitely - Finances Rumored to be Tight
Firm Partnership Might Shatter Over Direction of Company
Granted, she’d hoped the deal with the nasty emir and his nastier son would fall apart. She’d admit that. Still, she hadn’t wanted to ruin Alex completely. She didn’t want his company to go under or his friendship with Henry to come apart.
What had she done?
Plucking another tissue out of the box, Sophie pressed it on her eyes.
Far worse than any of the tabloid or financial headlines were the ones that had come during the last few days.
Stravoudas Disappears in the Midst of Crisis
The Perfect Man Makes a Perfect Getaway
Partner, Kluge, Left Holding the Bag
It wasn’t like Alex to walk away from a fight. She’d expected him to launch a fierce battle to keep the deal and become a fiery landlord threatening to throw her out. Instead, she, and everyone else apparently, had been met with silence. A cold, hard silence.
The silence scared her.
Squawk! Squawk!
She dropped the tissue-filled hand to the cushion and looked at her cell phone.
Squawk! Squawk!
Her mother. For the hundred and thirtieth time in the last seven days. Of course, the news had spread to Florida via Aunt Eileen’s subscriptions to every New York tabloid that existed.
Of course.
Sophie tried to ignore the call as she’d ignored every other one. She had left soothing voice messages in the middle of the night when she knew her parents would be asleep. She didn’t want her mom and dad to get so agitated they’d take the next flight to New York. Right now, talking to her emotional mother on the phone would only make her cry harder. The thought of talking to her mother in person would drive her into a deeper depression.
She should answer the phone.
On the other hand, she could always leave another soothing message later tonight.
Squawk! Squawk!
The call finally, mercifully, went to voice mail. She didn’t have to reach over and listen. She’d only hear the same thing.
What happened?
He was perfect for you!
You would have had such lovely children.
She thumped her head back on the sofa. Her mother had wanted grandchildren since the moment Sophie had graduated from college. The topic had been an ongoing thread in every conversation she’d had with her mother during the last seven years. She hadn’t wanted kids, she’d wanted her bakery. Kids were something for the future—the far-off future. The thread, and her mother, had irritated her to the point of madness. But this time, this one time, the yearning in her mom’s voice had made the tears well in her eyes instead of the red heat of aggravation.
Alex’s children.
She could see them even now. Their lean, lithe bodies dancing in the Greek snow. Their wide mouths filled with her baking. Their bright, blue eyes peering at her as she read them stories by the fire. The blond mops of curls nestled in their pillows.
She needed another tissue.
A thundering bang, bang, bang came from her front door.
“Sophie?” Mel’s voice rang with threat. “Open this door.”
“Come on, girlfriend,” Jade cried. “Time to face the music.”
Sam’s voice joined the fray. “We’ve called a MUST meet which means you must be a part of it.”
She’d successfully put them off for an entire week. She’d pleaded for time alone and time to think and time to heal. She’d said she was fine with everything and only needed some rest. Clearly, her friends’ patience had come to an end.
“We know you’re in there,” Jade’s voice escalated up a notch. “We quizzed your neighbors.”
Sophie snorted. She had exactly one nosy neighbor who would open the door to strangers—Mr. Elgin, who lived across the hall and could be forced to tell all with a simple box of cookies.
“Come on, Soph.” Sam’s voice drifted through the door. “We need to see you and know you’re okay.”
Dragging herself off the sofa, she shuffled to the front door. She figured she looked like crap; her hair in a straggly, sloppy ponytail, her old flannel nightgown stained with the chocolate ice cream she’d just eaten, her eyes and nose red from her stupid weeping. But these were her friends and friends would accept her, warts and all.
Like Alex.
The thought zipped right from her head to her heart and made her stumble to a halt.
She knew, right at the center of her heart. If he stood in front of her at this moment, he’d tease, he’d push her into the shower, and he’d find a way to make her mad instead of sad. After all was said and done, though, he’d accept her as she was however she wanted to be.
But she hadn’t done the same for him, had she?
A deep, dark pit opened in the center of her heart.
“I’m going to break this door down if you don’t open it in five seconds.” Jade’s menacing tone made her legs move.
“You look like hell,” Mel said as she glided into the messy apartment.
“This place looks like hell.” Ja
de marched in behind.
“Soph?” Sam stopped in front of her and grabbed her arms. “You okay?”
“No.” The word ended in a wail and the tears fell once more. This time, they were ones of confusion and dismay.
Had she done the right thing? Or had she done precisely the wrong thing when Alex needed her? Had she judged him instead of loving him?
“It’s okay.” Samantha wrapped her arms around her and rocked.
“I’ve brought your favorite,” Jade crooned at her side. “Rice and beans will make you feel better right away.”
“You need a shower,” Mel observed. “That will make you feel better.”
Sophie found herself stuffed into her bathroom and by the time she got out of the shower, she did feel slightly better. A big bowl of Jade’s famous rice and beans made her feel marginally human again. Now she only wanted to climb into her bed and sleep for a thousand years.
“You start work tomorrow, right?” Sam chirped from her perch on the sofa.
Laying her head on the kitchen table, she closed her eyes. “I don’t think I can go in.”
“Don’t speak nonsense.” Jade hustled over from the stove and slapped the top of her head. “That bakery is at the center of your heart.”
“Not anymore, huh?” Mel’s hand came to rest on her shoulder and squeezed. “Alex is.”
“The man didn’t know how lucky he was,” Jade stated. “He doesn’t deserve our girl.”
“But he wasn’t the one who broke the engagement,” Sam pointed out.
“The relationship was fake.” Sophie raised her head and forced herself to meet her friends’ wide eyes. “It was a contract.”
“What?”
“I don’t get it.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
She made them see sense. There was no reason to keep any of this mess a secret any longer. Alex was eventually going to come around and kill her business—what did it matter if her friends knew the real story? What more could he do to retaliate?
“He must have been really mad at you, Soph.” Sam stared at her, a contemplative look on her face.
“I can’t believe he would act that way,” Mel chimed in, her expression one of amazement. “He’s not that kind of guy.”
“Mr. Charming has a bad temper.” Jade’s dark gaze sparkled with interest. “Who knew?”
“He’s not what he appears. All that perfection is a façade.”
Her three friends eyed her with speculation.
“He’s stuck in…”
“Yeah?”
“What?”
“And?”
“He’s just stuck.” Sophie abandoned any attempt to explain. They wouldn’t understand. Alex, himself, didn’t understand. Why should she expect her friends to? “All I know is I broke the contract and he’s going to find a way to close my bakery.”
“I don’t think so.” Mel sat down at the kitchen table and brushed her hand along the edge. “I might not know him as well as you obviously do, but I don’t think he will do that.”
“He hasn’t so far.” Jade leaned on the counter, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “If he were going to make a move, you’d have heard something by now.”
“I agree.” Samantha slid off the sofa and walked to the table. “I mean, look what he’s done instead. He’s disappeared completely.”
She knew where he was with a certainty. And her silly heart yearned to go to Greece and talk with him, make him see what she plainly saw. Yet he’d reject her. He’d reject himself.
“He’s hurting,” Mel said with a decisive snap. “Which means he has feelings for our girlfriend.”
“I saw the way he looked at you during the New Year’s party.” Sam’s gaze was piercing. “He loves you.”
Sophie gulped. She’d accepted her love but had never gotten to the place where she’d expected his. All her old patterns with men, mixed in with all of Alex’s confusion about himself, had led her to stand back and not move forward. “Even if he does, it doesn’t matter.”
“Love always matters.” Jade’s voice came sharp and clear. “So what if your relationship started with a stupid contract. Somewhere along the way, girlfriend, you both fell in love.”
“I didn’t say—”
“Come on.”
“You can’t fool us.”
“Sophie, get a grip.”
She sighed. “Okay, okay. I do love him and that’s why I split with him. He would have been miserable doing that dick skyscraper.”
“Fine.” Mel stood and glared down at her. “You accomplished what you set out to do. His deal is in shambles. Still, that doesn’t mean this relationship is over.”
“Nope, it sure doesn’t,” Jade slotted in.
“You love him. He loves you.” Sam slanted closer, her expression filled with hope. “That’s more important than anything else.”
“What are you going to do about it?” The usually mild-mannered Mel looked like a sputtering spitfire.
Sophie’s hands tightened in her lap. During this entire week, she’d wallowed in self-pity and righteous dignity. She’d thought of herself as some weepy heroine who’d sacrificed herself on the altar of love. But now, now she wavered. Maybe she’d done this completely wrong. Perhaps she should have stuck with Alex and believed in him enough to let him make his own decisions. Possibly, she needed to rethink everything.
“This isn’t like you, Soph.” Mel continued her relentless grind. “Do something.”
* * *
“Nothing in the newspapers about Mr. Perfect.” Jorge huffed, the steel chair scraping on the cement floor as he bent down to grab another tabloid. “Can’t think where he’s gone.”
Sophie slid a pan of cappuccino shortbread out of the oven. She didn’t respond because she had nothing to say about Alex or the situation. The something she needed to do had eluded her for three straight days. Rather than continuing to drive herself crazy at home, she’d tromped to her bakery and let Jorge and her assistants drive her crazy instead.
“But he’s so hot,” Megan had wailed.
“And he’s so rich,” Tamika had moaned.
“I knew he was no good from the moment I saw him,” Jorge had pitched in.
Then they’d all argued about the perfections, possibilities, wants and warts of Alexander the Great for hours on end until Sophie threatened to pour buttermilk over them.
Her assistants had taken the hint and left for the day.
Jorge was made of sterner stuff.
“I bet he’s gone down to Mexico.” He rustled the papers, plainly not at all worried about a rainfall of buttermilk. “That’s where everyone goes when they are hiding from the law.”
She snorted.
“Ah.” The old man’s twinkling eyes appeared above the top of the newspaper. “Finally, I get a response from you on the topic of Mr. Perfect.”
“He’s not perfect.” Leaning down, she sliced the bread into triangles. Focusing on her work didn’t always keep thoughts of him from drifting into her head, yet she’d found that the baking helped her, eased the turmoil inside.
She’d been working Christmas hours during the last three days.
“Nope, he’s not.” The newspaper rustled again. “My bet is he’s got something to hide.”
Alex was certainly hiding, not only physically, but emotionally. Up to this point, she couldn’t figure out if she should do something about it or not.
This isn’t like you, Soph. Do something.
Mel’s words rang in her head for the thousandth time like an irritating, clanging buzzer. A buzzer that became louder and louder and louder.
She slapped the knife onto the steel table.
“Whoa, girl.” Jorge peered around the newspaper. “You okay?”
No, she was not okay. Neither was Alex. She’d tried to stay convinced that her actions on New Year’s were correct. But doubt had drizzled into her brain and now drummed in her heart. Perhaps the something she needed to do was reverse wha
t she’d done.
The doorbell chimed in its low tones.
“Who the hell is that?” Jorge scowled at the door in immediate offense. “It’s a damn good thing you’re not here alone.”
Her little, beaten-down heart lurched into a furious clatter. Maybe she wouldn’t have to do anything. Maybe Alex would be the one who did…something.
“Who could it be?” The old man grunted as he plied himself off the chair. “It’s nearly six p.m.”
“And you have deliveries to make.” She wiped her hands with a towel and pushed herself toward the door. Her heart quaked and her knees shook, but not answering the door was out of the question. She’d never been a quitter and she’d never been afraid to confront. “Those desserts are boxed and ready to go.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I see who’s at the door,” Jorge grumbled.
The question of the hour, the day, the week.
Who was at the door?
“Henry.” Her little heart sank back into dejection and her knees stopped quaking. “This is a surprise.”
Alex’s partner looked awful and her heart sank further with a load of guilt piled on top of it. Henry had been the one who’d had to deal with the fallout from her betrayal. Well, all the financial fallout. She wondered if Alex suffered from any emotional fallout.
Perhaps not.
Because he wasn’t here. Henry was.
Had Alex sent Henry?
Her heart pitter-pattered even as she told it to stop dreaming.
“Sophie.” There were dark circles under his hazel eyes and his tie lay askew on his shirt. “I need to talk to you. I need to find my partner.”
All right. Clearly, Alex hadn’t sent him. The pitter-patter petered out in a sad, slow whine.
“Who are you?” Her self-styled protector rumbled to her side and hunched his shoulders in an aggressive stance.
“Jorge.” Turning toward him, she forced a smile. “This is a friend of Alex’s and you need to get going.”
The old man humphed.
“Come on.” Taking his gnarled hand in hers, she tugged him to the steel racks lining the back wall. “Here are the two boxes I need delivered.”
