Sophia

 

 

I put on the button down shirt he was wearing before he took me to bed. He'd thrown it on the floor on top of his discarded jeans and belt. After he came, I crawled up his body so I could rest my head on his chest. He was spent, laughing softly about how I'd drained him dry and he needed a nap to recharge before he'd make sure I was satisfied.

I don't know a woman who wouldn't be satisfied by his tongue or the taste of him. I've never done that before for a man and now all I want is to do it again.

I quietly pad down the hallway barefoot in search of something to drink. I know that he keeps the glasses in a cupboard over the stove and a pitcher of cold water in the refrigerator. I get both, finishing off the entire glass of cool liquid in one long gulp.

A small green light flashes across the room and it takes me a second to realize that it came from the alarm panel. Nicholas armed it when we arrived, just as he's done every time I've come over.

The building I live in has a doorman but beyond him and the deadbolt lock on my door, I've never feared for my safety. Nicholas has taken extra precautions with this place which I assume is because of all the beautiful artwork that is hung on the walls.

I cross the room to find my purse. I'd left it on the coffee table earlier when we were sitting next to it. I reach in and fish for my phone. I doubt that there's anything that needs my attention now but since my date for the night is passed out cold in the other room, I might as well draft some of the emails I have to send out to Foster executives in the morning.

The light from my phone's screen illuminates the area around me and my eyes instantly gravitate toward the frame. The frame itself may be unremarkable but the picture that it's showcasing isn't. I get up and move to the chair next to that table where the frame is. I turn on my phone's flashlight, shining it directly on the picture of Nicholas and the mystery girl.

I pick it up, hopeful that a closer view will offer more insight into who the dark haired beauty is. It doesn't. I cradle it in my hands, my gaze riveted to the smile on the face of the man who is fast asleep in a bed down the hall. It's the same man who obviously clings to something in his past that this photograph represents.

I fumble with the frame as I'm about to set it back down. I gasp when it falls from my hands. I reach forward, grabbing the corner just before it hits the floor. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief because I don't know how in the hell I would have explained to Nicholas that I dropped the picture and broke the frame all because I couldn't keep my curiosity in check.

I cradle it in my hands, my gaze sweeping over the back of the frame and a small white corner of something peeking out from behind the dark backing board. I tug on it carefully and more of it comes into view. It looks and feels like a piece of paper.

With trembling hands, I curve my fingers around the small tabs that hold the backing board in place. I move each, being careful not to damage them. It's obvious that the frame itself is fragile. It's not expensive. I've seen a row of similar frames for sale in the drugstore for just a few dollars each.

I tuck the fingernail of my index finger under the edge of the backing board to free it. It takes some pressure before it finally moves and a white paper spills out onto my lap.

I stare at it, suddenly unsure if I should be looking at it. This isn't my business. It doesn't matter that I just had sex with Nicholas. This is obviously something that is private to him and I have no right touching it.

"Sophia."

My head snaps up when I hear his sleepy voice call for me.  I listen carefully for footsteps but I hear absolutely nothing.

"I was just getting a glass of water, " I call back as I try and shove the paper into the back of the frame, but my hands are shaking so violently that I can't tuck it all back into the small space behind the picture. "I'll be right there."

"I'm coming to find you." His voice is louder.

I stare down at the frame as I attempt to close the backing board but most of the white paper is still visible. I tug it back out, fist it in my hand and put the frame back together right before Nicholas rounds the corner from the hallway.

 

***

 

"You're going to cook for me right now?" I duck my hand into my purse and drop the paper in its depths. "It's really late. I should head home."

I don't actually want to go home. I want another chance to put that paper back in the photo frame where I found it. Guilt is eating at me from the inside out. It started as soon as he walked over to the chair I was sitting in and kissed me. It hasn't let up in the five minutes since.

When he motioned for me to stand, I did. I kept my fist closed, hoping he wouldn't ask why. He didn’t bother. He only wanted to embrace me. I stood and let him take me in his arms, relaxing in the moment.

"I'm hungry." He pats his firm bare stomach above the waistband of the gray sweatpants he's wearing as he stalks toward the kitchen. "Our dinner was good but it was hours ago. I could go for some pancakes."

I could too but I have to work in a few hours and besides, I need to formulate a plan to get him out of the room long enough that I can cram that paper back into that frame. The only reason I dropped it in my purse was that I could sense how badly my palm was sweating from anxiety. If there's something sentimental written on that paper, I don't want the ink to run because of me.

Turning my head I see him standing next to the stove, a wire whisk at the ready in his hand and a huge grin on his face. I cave because eating pancakes in the middle of the night with a shirtless Nicholas Wolf should be on every woman's bucket list. "I'll stay for pancakes."

"Get over here and help me." He twirls the whisk in his hand. "I sense you're a better cook than I am."

"I'm not," I concede as I close the distance between us. "Cadence tried to teach me how to cook but it was a waste of time. Not everyone is destined to be a great chef."

I watch as he takes a carton of eggs and milk from the refrigerator before grabbing a few dry ingredients from his generously stocked pantry. "You're in charge of mixing, Sophia. Try not to fuck it up."

I laugh when he hands me the whisk. "Don't you have an electric mixer?"

With a serious expression on his face, he reaches over to squeeze my bicep through his shirt. "You've got the muscle power to do this by hand unless you don't think you have it in you to beat a few eggs."

"I have it in me." I flex my arm even though it's hidden under the fabric of his shirt. "Give me those eggs and I'll beat the hell out of them."

I jump when an unexpected loud buzzing noise fills the room.

"What the …"

"Shit. That was the intercom." Nicholas flicks on a light switch that bathes the living room in soft light. "My brother must be here."

"Your brother?" I call after him as he sprints down the hallway, disappearing in his bedroom.

I take a deep breath when I realize how I'm dressed. I can't meet a member of his family dressed in one of his shirt and panties. I start my own trek down the hall almost running right into Nicholas as he exits his bedroom in a hurry. "Where are you going? You're not leaving, Sophia."

He's dressed in a T-shirt now, in addition to the gray sweatpants he was wearing earlier. On his feet are blue sneakers and a ball cap covers his head. "You're dressed. I need to get dressed too."

"No," he murmurs as he kisses my forehead. "I'm going down to the lobby to talk to Sebastian. I'll get rid of him. Then we can get back to making pancakes."

"Sebastian?" I repeat his name. I read a few small details about him online. He's the brother who followed in the footsteps of their father to become a NYPD detective. He's older than Nicholas by two years and judging by the picture I saw of him online, there's a definite family resemblance.

A frown knits his brow. "I haven't told you about my brothers, have you?"

"Not yet. You told me about your sister."

I'm startled by another loud buzz from the intercom.

"He's as impatient as fuck. He sometimes comes by after his shift to shoot the shit. I'll go down to the lobby and tell him to go to hell."

I pat his shoulder, relieved that I'm going to have a few minutes alone to put that piece of paper back in the frame before he realizes it's missing. "I'll wait right here for you."

"You better." He stares at me. "I don't want you to ever leave."

My weak knees almost give out with the words but I stand tall and watch him walk toward the alarm panel. He disarms it with two button punches before he exits out the apartment door without turning back.

I don't waste a second before I'm at the couch, my purse in hand. I fish through it, easily pulling the white paper out. I study the crumpled mess, my eyes focusing on several small red dots that pepper the surface.

I take measured breaths, wanting to calm my racing heart. The debate is strong inside of me. I know I shouldn't open it, but the need to see what it is wins the battle over my better judgment.

I unfold it carefully, each movement revealing more red dots; some small, others larger.

Once I smooth my hands over it on my lap, I read the words written by a feminine hand.

I can't wait to be your wife, Nick. I'll love you until my last breath. Briella.  xx

Briella.

A beautiful name for a beautiful woman who loves the man I can't get enough of.

I want to know who she is and why the note she wrote him looks like it's covered in specks of blood.