Married To The Thorn In My Flesh
Chapter 3
Sophia’s POV
“Your daughter’s run away?” Alexander utters like it’s news to him.
He takes the phone off his ear and switches to loudspeaker.
“Sophia’s never acted out like this.” I hear my dad’s response. “She’s just a little sensitive…”
My heart shatters.
“The news must have left her shocked,” Alexander says calmly, looking into my eyes. “I’ll have my people look for her. And personally bring her home to you… With the M&A underway, we wouldn’t want the media to get a wind of this.”
“You’re right, Son.”
Unwelcomed, tears sting my eyes.
My life is worth a business deal, but I’m just a little sensitive?
I turn to the window, tuning out the rest of the call.
I’ve had enough—enough of being tossed around like everyone’s puppet.
As soon as the car becomes quiet, I turn to him, fist tightened. “Drop me off—”
The dome lights go off suddenly.
My eyes flick to it, then back to his still figure in the dark.
“Alexander, I want to get off.”
“I don’t live on the streets,” he replies and moves, lowering the center console. “Why would you wanna get off here?”
It’s dark, but my eyes follow his movement as he takes something out.
“Just drop me off. I don’t want to—”
“Sophia?”
I blink.
Ping.
A sound slices cleanly through the car.
My pulse quickens.
And immediately, flames rise from a sleek, silver lighter.
“You never called.” He says softly, torching the bottom of… a cigar!?
My lips part open, my eyes widening and moving from the flames to his face.
His jaw tightens, and he meets my gaze. “Why? Forgot about me?”
I’m speechless as I hold his gaze.
Slowly, he puts the cigar between his lips. Smoke floats out of his mouth without warning, traveling to my nostrils.
My lungs rebel, threatening a cough.
Click. The lid snaps shut. And the fire disappears.
He pushes the console back into the seat. My eyes follow his hand.
And—
My seat belt is unbuckled next.
Shoulders tensing, I watch it retract.
He grips my wrist.
I pull back. “Alexander, what are you—”
He pulls me close in one swift move.
A gasp leaves my lips. My heart staggers, my body stiffening as it meets his.
He leans close and touches my left ear with his lips.
I shrivel in fright.
“I didn’t stop thinking of you…” He whispers, warm tobacco breath brushing my skin.
“Alexander…?”
Cold fingers suddenly crawl on my left thigh.
I hold the seat fast, my eyes flickering to his chauffeur before dropping to his left hand on my thigh.
Cigar between fingers, he smooths his palm over my knee, staring into my eyes with an unsettling calmness—a knowing that I would cave just like I did in that hall on New Year’s Eve.
He keeps brushing my knee, waiting.
My chest ripples with heat. My body begins turning toward him, burning with something I don’t recognize.
He lets go of my wrist, and slowly, his right hand slips under to hold my thigh. His thumb starts caressing, fingers rubbing.
Sparks sizzle up my leg. And just like that, I melt onto him, face on his arm, eyes closing and indulging.
Last year’s encounter is re-enacted. But this time, there are not a hundred guests around, waiting to catch him. Or us.
“Soph?”
“Mm,” I murmur, opening my eyes to look at him.
“Not even a text? I thought we formed a connection.”
We did. I want to say, but my lips feel heavy.
I left for London again in February, and for months, I’ve wanted to contact him. But how can I tell him his friend warned me to stay away?
My heart pounds as I stare into his eyes, mesmerized and watching him put the cigar between his lips.
“Did Dimitri tell you to stay away from me?” He exhales a stream of smoke in my face.
I choke on my cough, swallowing it back, and I know he has his answer.
He stays quiet, softly caressing my thigh, sending wicked sensations coursing through me. And I can’t help thinking: If I let this continue, I won’t be able to say no next time.
“And you listened to him?” He interrupts my thought, stopping his hand on my knee.
I keep my eyes on him, having no words to say, even if Dimitri is like an older brother I always listen to.
“He’s going to be pretty upset when he finds out.” He mutters and lowers the window.
Grateful for the fresh air, I sigh, “Finds out what?”
He puts his cigar down and says, “Sophia, you and I are getting married in October… The announcement goes out next week.”
My breath pauses. My head instantly buzzes with fear, unable to object, unable to think. It’s suffocating.
From running away to getting seduced and still trapped?
The car comes to a smooth halt.
I smooth shaky fingers over my mouth, shifting away.
I look out the window to see a high-rise building. I can barely see the top from inside the car.
Alexander slowly takes my hand in his. “Let’s go inside. I live in the penthouse.”
***
My reflection in the elevator panel makes my stomach drop—mud-stained clothes, torn skirt, feral hair. I look like something he shouldn’t have brought home, yet he holds my hand firmly as we ride up.
Other than visiting a sick college mate with five others, I’ve never been to a man’s house. But Alexander isn’t just any man. He dangerously undoes me without trying hard.
The elevator dings. And my heart starts to pound.
Sixty-nine floors above the ground. Several miles away from all that’s familiar and safe.
It takes us ten seconds to get to a large door. One he unlocks with a finger scan. It clicks open, we enter, and the door slams shut.
I take a step into the foyer.
“No shoes in the house.” He squeezes my hand to stop me and drops to a knee in a breath, taking out a pair of black slippers from a console table.
My lips press together, my fists tightening around the strap of my purse as I stare at his dark brown hair. The warm light reflects on it.
I slowly step out of my heels and slip my aching feet into furry, oversized slippers.
He tucks my shoes in and rises.
I back away as I’m caught off guard by how much he towers over my small 5’4 self.
Next, he steps out of his shoes into another black slippers, holds my hand again, and leads me inside.
He flips a switch. My senses flare as everywhere lights up.
All glass and steel. So much space and perfection; I immediately feel overwhelmed.
He leaves no room for admiration, pulling me with him. “I’ll give you a house tour later. We need to get you out of those clothes first.”
I lift my eyes to him, wondering what’s going to happen to me tonight.
We turn two corners before he stops in front of a door. He pushes it open and turns on the light. It’s a bedroom.
My chest tightens on instinct.
He takes a step in. But I pause, halting him. He looks over his shoulder.
“What is it?”
“I-is this your bedroom?”
He turns back, closing the space between us.
“Is that where you wanna go? My bedroom?”
A quiver races through me.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to touch my face. “We’ll spend the night there together.”
What?
He pulls me inside the room, taking my purse from me. “I’ll hold on to this.”
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