Chapter 11

Sofia

My itinerary around the Gray cabin doubles when Graytech suffers a plummet in stock and Lucas unexpectedly flies to California for the week, trying to smooth out public relations with what seems to be a tour of press conferences, all centered around a new virus in one of their apps. It seems to all be in malicious fun, because all it does is brick your phone, but it’s still enough to send Lucas packing his suitcases with his hair practically falling out.

“And Thanksgiving is next week, too, so this couldn’t have happened at a worse time,” he babbles, shoving suit after suit into his polished, taupe-colored suitcase. “What with Black Friday and all, it’s so vicious, a corporate blood sport, I’ll be amazed if I can sleep a wink on Thanksgiving.” Lucas pauses to swiftly punch the air with a right cross, then continues packing like he wasn’t socking at phantoms.

“Thanksgiving is next week,” I echo softly, verging on a panic attack. “Aren’t we hosting it this year?”

“Yes, for Astrid and James and the kids and my parents and ourselves,” Lucas growls. “It’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

“I’m going to have to do it all alone,” I say, the thought of cooking that massive dinner looming on me now.

“No, no, no, I’ll be back in time,” Lucas reassures me, crossing over the foot of his bed and bracing my shoulders with his fingertips.

My eyes pan up to his and the urge to kiss him rolls through my body like a physical push. I hold myself at bay, even though I can almost pretend that I’m his wife when he speaks so supportively and doting like that, talking about our domestic responsibilities together. “Things will still be crazy,” he adds, clapping me on the shoulder. “The kids will be out of school. So, good luck.”

Lucas stoops down and delivers a quick, friendly kiss to my cheek. Tingles spread from the contact point and my eyelashes flutter up at him. My lips throb for his.

“And good luck to you, too, on your business trip,” I offer him in a whisper, arching on the tips of my toes and pressing my mouth to the corner of his.

He freezes, rigid, and doesn’t respond, but the impact moves through his body. The air between us seethes with chemistry.

“And good luck with all the shopping,” Lucas whispers back, ducking down and kissing me once, lightly, on the mouth. His hand wraps around my upper arm and doesn’t let go, though. “And the cooking.” His mouth crushes to mine again, robbing my breath, and my free arm comes up and winds around the back of his neck. “And the cleaning,” he adds, and this time, our mouths open together and we ditch the pretense of a conversation. His tongue is in my mouth and his hands grope down my back. My fingers are in his hair. I suck on his tongue and his erection thrums against my belly button and I whimper softly.

The whimper seems to break the spell, and he releases me. His hands twist up around my arms and unhook them from behind his neck. His hair and his eyes are wild. His chest heaves and his gaze on me is hot.

“You should go,” he commands me, simple and abrupt. There’s no hint of emotion to tell me if he’s mad.

“Yes, sir,” I whisper and scurry from the room, feeling like an asshole.

We don’t talk again, and he leaves me another several sheets of paper on the kitchen counter. More itineraries. I guess he’ll be back next week, and then, it’s just me and these kids. Agent Callahan knocks at the door again. I don’t answer. I stand on the other side of the door and tremble.

If I was a true criminal, I would take this time to steal all Lucas’s stuff and sell it. Then I would take the cash and disappear because, let’s face it, this can’t last forever. But I don’t. Because I’m not a true criminal. I love Lucas, as a person, of course. And I love his kids. And I want to pretend that this is my life for a few more weeks, or even days. I want to pretend that I could be Maggie Marshall, nanny and dirty secret.

One lonely night, while Lucas is still gone and the kids are fast asleep and the sound of a snowstorm rages all around the dark cabin, I light a candle on the vanity and take out a piece of paper. I pull out a pen and lean over the paper.

Hey, Maggie.

It’s me. Sofia.

I glance at myself in the vanity mirror, examining my features in the soft yellow light of the flame. My blond curls hang over my brow, unruly, and my eyes are brooding, my mouth sullen. I’m wearing another silk nightgown, because I have a huge soft spot for flowing, feminine things. This nightgown is pure black with a hint of olive green filigree. It’s darkly sexy, and it makes me wish that Lucas was here to keep me warm tonight.

This is Sofia’s reflection, all right. Maggie and I have pretended to be each other throughout our lives, but when anyone looks closely, they can tell. Maggie is a sparkling snowflake, like human sugar. But I’m kind of a bitch. I prefer not to think of it that way. I am like a spider, or a cat, or a shark. I will do what I have to, in order to survive. Even lie.

But I’m not a bad girl. I might have been the evil twin, but I’m not a bad girl.

I glare at myself and then tear my eyes away, turning my attention back to the letter. I haven’t spoken to Maggie in weeks. The last thing she knew was that I had disappeared from Cleveland. I have to write her. I have to let her know that I’m OK, even if there are some risks.

I won’t give too much information, but the investigator already knows that I’m somewhere here. I just want to say that I’m safe, and I’m happy where I am. I hope you’re safe and happy, too.

Trust me, baby sister. I will never regret what I did for you, even if it costs me my life.

I met someone, if you can believe it. I’m working for him right now. It’s the only way I can survive. I don’t have a car. Oh, wait, that sounds bad! “I met someone, I’m working for him, it’s the only way I can survive,” lol. Let me rephrase everything.

He’s... fuck. Where to start?

He reminds me of the kind of strength and serenity—and danger and mystery—that you feel when you’re in the woods at night. Like anything can happen. I don’t want to give away too much, just in case this is all intercepted, but he’s hunky. Trust me, the sex is willing as fuck.

Live your life, mamacita. Love it. If you don’t, then everything I risked was for nothing. I love you, baby girl. Happy Thanksgiving and if I don’t get another chance, Merry Christmas!

Love

Your best sister

And your only sister

SOFIA

I fold the parchment and slide it into an envelope, licking and pasting it shut. I write Maggie’s current address on it—likely the same address that appeared on the background check that Lucas did—but I don’t write his address.

I scamper outside in my nightie and a pair of snow boots, being mercilessly pelted with warp speed snowflakes as I bolt for the mailbox. I skid into the thing, pry open its cold metal door, put the letter inside, slam it, then scamper back inside, rubbing my arms, teeth chattering.

I stare out at the harsh blackness through the skylight overhead.

Maybe it was stupid to mail the letter from here. What if it is traced back to me? What if the mailman notices the address and he’s been following the story on the news? What if, what if?

Whatever. I bolt into the tundra again, grab the letter, and decide to mail it later.

*

After the snow finally calms and then melts away as quickly as it came, I take Charlie and Madison out shopping and Madison wonders why I need to stop at a big blue mailbox and stick my letter in there. “Who is it for?” she asks.

“Santa Claus,” I whisper to her mischievously. “I asked him for a sweet girl and a sweet boy, like you and your brother.”

Charlie scoffs, sounding just like his dad.

“Nuh-uh,” Madison says. “You haven’t been a good girl this year, Miss Maggie!”

I wince, and I wonder if that might be true. “Maybe you’re right,” I sigh, patting Madison’s head. “Maybe I have been a bad girl.”