Sophia

 

 

"You look like hell," Cadence says as she slams my apartment door shut with her foot. "Take these from me, Soph. I think my hands fell asleep on the train."

I reach forward and grab the handles of the two large shopping bags that are clutched tightly in her fists. "You have to let go if you want me to take them."

She chuckles as she looks down at her hands. "Good point."

"Why did you bring so much food?" I ask even though I already know the answer to that question. When Cadence panics, she cooks. It's the only way she can calm herself down. Since she told me she was pregnant, I've repeatedly joked with her that once the contractions start, she'll be in the kitchen whipping up a four-course gourmet meal. She laughs it off, but I'm not convinced it won't happen.

She finally uncurls her hands to let me take the bags. "You didn't eat dinner. I'm going to cook that for you now and then I'll make something you can heat up for breakfast. You need all the energy you can get when you go see Mr. Foster to fight for your job in the morning."

I doubt like hell I'll have to fight for it. Nicholas told me two hours ago that Mr. Foster fired me, but I haven't heard a thing from my boss all night. If there's one constant about Gabriel Foster, it's that he's a reasonable man. I may have witnessed him fangirling all over Nicholas in the office the other day, but he's not the type to succumb to gossip.

Mr. Foster relies on cold, hard facts and in this case, there aren't any that support the accusations Nicholas was throwing at me.  I even have the flash drive that he gave me with his book on it as proof. I found it in the clutch Dexie loaned me. That's where I put it after Nicholas handed it to me at his place and that's where it was tonight when I went looking for it after getting home from Hibiscus.

I didn't chase after Nicholas when he left the restaurant. I couldn't. I know that he wasn't open to listening to anything I would have said. Wasting my time trying to convince him that I didn't steal his manuscript would have been pointless. The mere fact that he thinks I'm capable of it pisses me off.

"I think Mr. Foster will see my side of things." I place both bags on the kitchen island. "He's always telling me that I'm the best assistant he's ever had. He's not going to fire me based on the crazy rantings of a man he barely knows."

"You don't think it matters that the man in question just so happens to be one of the most successful novelists on the planet?" She tugs a bunch of carrots and an eggplant from one of the bags. "Why would Nicholas tell you that you're fired if you're not?"

"Why would he say any of the things he said to me?" My tone is clipped. I explained every detail about what happened between Nicholas and me at Hibiscus to Cadence on the phone on my way home. I don't want to go there again. I've been struggling to keep it together since Nicholas walked away from me. Crying won't solve a thing, so I'm fighting back the urge to do it.

She eyes me suspiciously. "You're so damn calm, Soph. How can you be this together right now? Your boyfriend just got you fired, threatened you with a lawsuit and broke up with you. Nicholas Wolf messed up your entire life in the span of one night."

"I didn't do anything wrong, Den. Nicholas has no proof. I have the truth on my side. He can think whatever he wants about me, but I know that I'm innocent and there's no way he can prove otherwise."

"If you need a character witness to back you up when you go talk to Mr. Foster, I'll be there."

I reach for the one cutting board she left behind when she moved. "I can handle Gabriel. I'll march into his office in the morning and tell him exactly what happened. I'm innocent. The only thing I'm guilty of is dating a jerk."

 

***

 

"Mr. Foster?" I ask tentatively. He's in early, which rarely happens now. Before he met his wife, my boss always arrived at the office before me and each afternoon when I left for the day, he'd still be sitting behind his desk in the exact spot he is now. "Can I speak with you, sir?"

His head snaps up. He'd been staring at the screen of his laptop when I first got in twenty minutes ago. I took my time hanging up my coat before I turned on my computer, checked my emails and then finally got up to approach his open office door.

"Sophia?" His brow knits when his gaze meets mine. "I didn't expect to see you today."

Shit. Maybe Nicholas Wolf did convince Gabriel to kick my ass to the curb outside this luxurious office tower.

"Why not?" I ask bluntly. I came to the office with my emotional armor on and my battle plan in place. I won't leave this building without a fight.

He pushes both of his palms against the edge of his desk and rises from his chair. I watch in silence as he rounds the desk and moves to close his office door.

I swallow hard. Mr. Foster has only closed his door twice when we've been talking. The first was when he told me he was going to be a father. His eyes had welled with tears and his voice cracked. I knew that day he closed the door so no one would see his strong façade crumble. The other time was when I'd messed up on an email I drafted for him. There was no harm, since back then he always double checked the emails I'd send on his behalf. He was disappointed in me though and when the door closed, I could see it immediately in his expression. I don't see that now. There's something else simmering just below the surface.

"Please have a seat." He taps his fingers against the back of one of the two chairs that face his desk.

I hesitate briefly before I lower myself into it, taking special care to tuck the fabric of my skirt in place in my lap. I wore this particular outfit today because I always like to have a Plan B in case Plan A goes up in smoke. Today, my Plan B is to sell Mr. Foster on my designs if he fires me from my job as his assistant. This dress is one of my first creations and it fits the Arilia label to a tee.  I may be delusional in thinking he'd even consider giving my work a place on a rack in his store, but I'll always wonder if I don't try.

"I emailed the manager of the Liore store in Paris just now." I tug on the end of a small loose thread on the left side seam of the skirt. "I sent her the inventory list for next month. She likes to plan her display window at least two weeks ahead of the products hitting the racks. I sent along my suggestions as I do each month."

He takes a step toward me but stills at my words. His gaze travels over my black skirt and red blouse.  "I'm very impressed."

Mr. Foster doesn't do sarcasm, so I take the compliment as genuine. "Thank you, sir."

I'm biding my time, hoping that he'll remember each and every day I stayed late so he could rush home to his wife and daughter. I need him to keep in mind that I trekked through a blizzard less than six weeks ago when the city had virtually shut down under a blanket of two feet of snow. He was in Italy and needed me to find a file for him and I did it without hesitation even though all I wanted to do was stay in bed that cold, Saturday morning.

"Nicholas Wolf called me last night just as I was leaving the office." He sinks into the chair next to me. "He had a lot to say."

"So I heard," I begin as I cross my legs. "I met up with him after your conversation. He told me you two spoke. I'd like a chance to explain things to you before you fire me."

He shoots me a look that's a clear mix of surprise and sympathy. "You don't need to explain anything, Sophia. I've made up my mind."

"You've made up your mind? You did that without hearing my side?" I rub the bridge of my nose. "You can't fire me. I didn't do anything."

"Today is your last day working as my assistant."

I inhale sharply trying to catch my breath. I feel like I've been punched square in the stomach. "You can't do this. I didn't steal anything from him. He's wrong. I would never do that."

He straightens and leans back in the chair. "I believe you. I have no doubt that he's mistaken."
"Really?" I fist my hands together on my lap. "If you believe me, why are you firing me?"

"Where's your phone?" He glances toward the closed office door. "Did you leave it on your desk?"

Did he leave his mind at home? What the hell does it matter where my phone is right now? I'm in the middle of a career crisis. "I did. Why?"

"Did anyone call you this morning?"

My mom did. It's typical. The morning after she meets with her book club she calls me, usually before I start work to tell me if the book her club read is a thumbs-up or down. She knows I have a very mild interest in fiction. After last night, I doubt I'll read another book again. At the very least I'll steer clear of detective novels written by crazy hot men with trust issues.

"My mom," I confess because I'm confused as hell and just as tired. I barely slept. Instead, I fought the heartburn from the vinegar bathed salad Cadence served me before she whipped up the pasta dish. "She always calls me after her book club."

He smiles. "I was hoping you'd received a call from Sasha by now."

Sasha Berga.

She's the self-proclaimed Queen of the design department at Foster Enterprises. She skipped past retirement age more than a decade ago, but she's clinging to her job with both of her well-manicured hands. I've only shared one conversation with her and that was focused on Arilia's winter fashion line from a year ago. She asked my honest opinion about it while she was waiting for Mr. Foster to finish a meeting. I gave my unvarnished view of the mess that it was and she arched both brows, scowled and never said another word to me again.

"I haven't talked to Sasha." I have no desire to. The only person I want to talk to right now is sitting next to me. He already said that he didn't believe Nicholas so it makes zero sense for him to send my ass packing. I make a mental note to call Zoe Beck, the only attorney I know, to help me launch a lawsuit against Foster Enterprises for wrongful dismissal.

"You should, Sophia. I assumed you would spend the day with her."

Why the hell would I spend my day with a woman who took offense at my candid critique of the hideous items she personally chose for that collection last year? In her eyes, I'm akin to the dirt on the bottom of her Louboutins.

"I'd rather talk to you about my job. I need this job, Mr. Foster."

"No, you don't." He stands.

I beg to differ so I stand too. I rest my hands on my hips in a failed effort to look intimidating. "I do. I really need this job."

He reaches across his desk to pick up his laptop, turning the screen toward me.  "You have a job. We're launching a new line for the fall. Our target audience is women your age who have a limited budget for fashion. There's a spot for you on the design team if you want it."

I gaze at his face briefly before I glance down at the computer. "That's my website. You've seen my website? How did you find it?"

"Nicholas told me you two were meeting Claudia Stefano for dinner last night. When I finally got a word in, I asked why and he told me she was considering selling some of your designs in her stores."

I quirk a brow. I've had it all wrong. Mr. Foster isn't firing me. He's giving me the opportunity of a lifetime. "You like my designs, sir?"

"I like them enough to start the hunt for a new executive assistant to replace you. You may be the most talented designer on staff. Sasha is waiting for you in her office. If you want the job, just say the word."

I don't. Instead, I let my actions speak for me as I dart out of his office and head straight for the elevator that will take me two floors down to the design department and my new boss, the one and only, Sasha Berga.