Sophia

 

 

I try to avoid being rude at all costs. There's that old saying about catching more flies with honey than vinegar. It's something my mom used to repeat to me and my brother on an almost daily basis; that and the timeless jewel about not saying anything if you can't say something nice.

Nicholas was right. I was essentially telling him to fuck off but in a semi-polite way.

The man is dangerous. His smile says it all. It screams that he's a devil in bed and a monster in the afterglow. I don't need that. If I fall prey to his charms, my design schedule will suffer and I can't let that happen.

Men come and go in life, but my career is going to take me to the places I long to be.

It's as simple as that.

"Did you agree to have dinner with Nicholas?"

I've never once spoken to Mr. Foster about what I do when I leave my desk at the end of the day. He doesn't ask. I don't offer. It's an unspoken agreement between the two of us.

"What?" I look up and into his face. "Did you ask me about Nicholas, sir?"

"He invited you to dinner tonight and you turned him down. Did you find a night that works for both of you?"

Yes. It's the first Tuesday after the world ends.

"We didn't." I don't offer more; instead I bury my attention in a document that I should have filed a week ago.

"You have reservations about dating him, don't you?"

I'd rather have my fingernails pulled out with a set of pliers than have this conversation. "I'm not dating anyone right now. I'm taking a break from relationships."

I'm impressed with myself since that sounded borderline believable.

"Understood." Gabriel's gaze sweeps my desk. "I'm on the hunt for stock numbers for the new silk collection at Liore. Do you have those?"

I turn in my chair to open one of the file drawers behind me. "I have them right here, sir. I organized them by color to make it easier for you."

He takes the three file folders I hand him. "Excellent, Sophia. You're the most efficient assistant I've had. That means you're never permitted to quit. I hope you realize that."

I half-smile because I can't tell if he's joking or not. He pays me well including a significant raise just three months ago. The job is stable, he's a great boss and I'm done as soon as the clock strikes five o'clock but it's not enough. I'd eat ramen noodles at every meal for the rest of my life if it meant I had a chance to show my pieces at New York Fashion Week just once.

"I'll stick around for at least another week," I joke.

He raises a brow. "Make it two and I'll consider giving you one Friday afternoon a month off."

I brought up the subject briefly last week after I heard through the office grapevine that Gabriel's brother, Caleb, had given his assistant one day a month off with pay to spend with her toddler. I don't have children so when I mentioned the arrangement to Mr. Foster he promised me that if, or when, I become a mom, he'll afford me the same luxury. I left his office with a curse perched on my lips and a deep regret that I don't report directly to Caleb instead of Gabriel.

"Are you serious, sir?" I tilt my head to look up at him. "You're going to give me one afternoon a month off?"

"The last Friday afternoon of each month, Sophia."

"With pay?" I push because I need to. I spend as much as I can on my designs and every penny counts.

"With pay."

As tempted as I am to jump to my feet and hug him, I don't. Instead, I smile brightly. "Thank you, sir. You don't know how much this means to me."

"I suspect it means as much to you as those two signed Nicholas Wolf novels mean to me."

Nicholas Wolf. The brief time he spent in my life resulted in a nice perk in the form of extra time to devote to my passion. I should thank him, but that would mean I'd need to see him again and I have no intention of ever doing that.

 

***

 

As soon as I step out of the building at precisely five minutes after five, I tug on the collar of my coat to try and ward off the thick snowflakes that are whipping against the side of my face.

Snow was never part of my life back in Florida. I grew up in a small house with a seemingly happy mom and dad and an older brother who took me under his wing. My life has always been calm and controlled.

I've followed every rule laid out before me and I've taken the path of least resistance. My dream, when I was in high school, was to jet away the day after graduation for California. I pictured myself living on the beach and going to design school.

My parents didn’t view that as a workable life plan, so they suggested, in a quietly controlling way, that I go to college in Florida and work toward a degree in business. I had no savings and no contacts in California, so I did what was expected of me.

Once graduation neared I started scouring job listings in both Los Angeles and New York. I landed an interview for an administrative job at a large company here in Manhattan. I nailed that and after working there for six months, I landed a position at Foster Enterprises.  It was a junior assistant to one of the executives in merchandising. I used that as a means to my end goal. When I heard that Mr. Foster's assistant had quit, I marched up to his office, got myself in the door and spent an hour talking fashion with him. He offered me the job as his assistant on the spot.

"What time do you typically eat dinner? You're not one of those five o'clock people, are you?"

I turn instantly to my left at the sound of his voice. He's dressed as he was earlier when he came up to the office to drop off the book for Mr. Foster. Nicholas is wearing a black wool coat, jeans and now, he's sporting stylish black-rimmed glasses.

"Are you stalking me?" I slide my left hand into one of the tan leather gloves Cadence gave me for Christmas last year. "What are you doing here? I said no to dinner."

"I don't stalk anyone." His eyes fall to my hands. "I thought I'd give you another chance to say yes."

Another chance? He makes it sound as if I'm the one missing out.

"I don't need another chance. I don't want to have dinner with you."

"What about a drink?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Two women passing by us stop briefly to stare at him. The tall, blonder one, whispers something to her friend before they both shake their heads and move on.

"I'm not interested in you, Nicholas." I point after the women as they stroll toward the corner. "I bet either of those women would love to have a drink or dinner or maybe even both with you. If you hurry you can catch them before the light turns."

His gaze stays trained on my face. "I don't want to have drink or dinner with anyone but you."

"Why me?" I ask in exasperation. "I've said no already. Can't you just move on?"

"You need me, Sophia."

I laugh at the absurdity of that statement. "Your ego is the size of Texas. I don't need you."

"Your business needs me." He takes a step forward. "I was exactly like you once. I was posting chapters of my novels online hoping to find readers. I worked day and night to gain any ground I could. I was making mistakes that cost me time and money."

I eye him suspiciously. "You want me to have dinner with you so we can talk business?"

"Exactly," he says with a sharp nod. "That's it. It'll be shop talk, nothing else."

"You do realize that you write books and I design clothing?" I ask with a smirk. "You have no idea what it takes to make it in the fashion world."

He steps even closer as a group of people pass behind him. "I know how to create a personal brand that demands attention. That's what you need. It doesn't matter if it's books or dresses. Until you create a name for yourself, no one is going to notice your designs."

I finally slide my other glove on. "I'm not typically a five o'clock diner but I'll make an exception tonight. I'll give you an hour, Nicholas if you promise we'll talk business."

"Deal." He slides his finger along my chin. "You had a snowflake there."

I smile because the sudden snowstorm stopped the very minute we started talking.