Unconditionally Mine Page 13

  “Where?” She hated herself for being so damn easy.

  “Where do you think?” he asked. “Oh, and Sofia?”

  “What?” She snapped, frustrated with him—with herself—and just plain sexually frustrated.

  “Don’t touch what’s mine.”

  * * *

  Noon on the dot, Sofia was in her car. Testing the sport mode for the first time, she flew along the causeway toward the beach. When traffic built up, as it always did, she tapped the wheel restlessly. “Come on! Come on! Come on!”

  She pulled up to the gate just as Jon’s car came tearing down Alton from the opposite direction, blowing the red light at the intersection. The gate took forever to open, inch by inch, revealing their tropical hideaway. She pulled into the driveway, and he pulled in behind her. Sofia jumped out of her car, just as his car door swung open.

  “You better run!” he called out.

  Squealing like a child losing at tag, she scrambled to the front door and fumbled with her keys. Jon caught her, held her, his hands exploring her everywhere. She softened in his arms, but he warned her to open the door or else he’d rip off her blouse right there. Sofia twisted the key in the lock and the door finally gave way.

  They stumbled together into the foyer. Between kisses, Sofia lashed out. “You’re terrible! How could you toy with me like that?”

  “Payback.” Jon stepped away from her and peeled off his suit jacket. The lining was a gorgeous plum. “I was in a room full of people when you sent that sexy pic. I couldn’t get up from the table for a long time.”

  “I was flirting! What you did today was mean.”

  “Malicious,” he said, and pinned her against the wall. “I like how that sounds.”

  He gripped the waist of her skirt and tried to work it down. When that didn’t work, he tried the other end and hiked the hem up.

  “Well, never again,” Sofia said.

  “I don’t believe it. You love to up the ante.” He fell to his knees, and she heard him suck in his breath before he gazed up at her. “Blue like the sky.”

  Sofia shrugged out of her blouse and let it fall to the floor, showing him the pretty lace bra that matched the panties he had been so eager to see.

  “Did you do as you were told?” he asked.

  Sofia cupped his upturned face. “What do you mean?”

  He took hold of her hands and kissed the palms, the fingertips. “Did you touch what’s mine?”

  Malicious...

  “It’s not yours until you make it yours,” she said.

  Jon laughed quietly. “You’re a brave woman.”

  Sofia was going to fire back something clever, but he swept her off her feet and carried her up the stairs.

  * * *

  Sofia was on a high. There was no use returning to the office. She left a new client meeting to Ericka, her new private events coordinator, and spent the afternoon browsing the aisles of her favorite party supply warehouse, prepping for the charity fundraiser confirmed for next month. Sofia had proposed a risqué bingo night to raise money for the Women for Elder Protection. Hunky topless waiters would serve cocktails and a gorgeous drag queen MC would host the event. After an hour of unfocused browsing, she purchased a case of beaded necklaces. The guests could play bingo for beads, Mardi Gras style. On her way out, she caught her reflection on a mirrored surface. There it was: a smile of intense satisfaction that she couldn’t wipe off her face. What had Jon done to her?

  Still grappling with an answer to that question, Sofia ran into Nick in the parking lot.

  “Hey! What are you doing on my turf?” she asked.

  The warehouse bordered the river and wasn’t too far from the courthouse where she and Jon had had jury duty. It wasn’t the most glamorous part of town, and Maserati drivers such as Nick seldom came around.

  “Hate to break it to you, but you’re literally on my turf. I own the building.”

  “You own my warehouse?”

  “As of last week.”

  “What’s going to happen to it?” Sofia demanded. She’d been coming to this wholesaler for years.

  Nick kicked the rear tires of his black sports car, gauging the pressure. “The lease is up at the end of the year. Then they move to Opa-Locka.”

  “Way out there!” Sofia cried.

  He shrugged. “Sorry, babe.”

  “What do you want with this property anyway?” she asked.

  He explained that Miami’s rental market was screwed up and he intended to fix that. “We’re two miles away from three major hospitals. Not to mention the local public defender and state attorney’s offices.”

  “Don’t forget the courthouse.”

  “You’re helping to make my point,” Nick said. “There’s no place decent in the area for all those young doctors and lawyers to live.”

  Sofia acknowledged his plan made sense. “Does Leila know?”

  He gave her a quizzical look, blue eyes darkening, and Sofia immediately regretted having asked the question.

  “Of course she knows,” he said. “She picked the spot. You might’ve told her it was your favorite warehouse.”

  “It never came up.”

  A dusty white Land Rover pulled into the parking lot and moments later Nick introduced her to the architect hired to transform the boxy warehouse into a modern ten-story apartment building.

  “Tell your dad and Miguel to put in a bid when the time comes,” Nick said.

  “Will do,” Sofia said, and wished both men a good day. She was fitting the crate of beaded necklaces into the trunk of her car when Nick asked the architect to give them a minute.

  “Why would you ask me about Leila? What did she say to you?” Nick asked her.

  “Oh, that... Forget I said anything,” Sofia said. “I don’t want to get involved.”

  “Forget that,” Nick said. “I’ve kept secrets for you, Sofia.”

  “And I regret putting you in that position.”

  “Too bad,” Nick retorted. “That’s the position we’re in. Now tell me. What did Leila say to you?”

  What could she do? If she tried to get away, she’d likely have to drive over Nick’s body. The man obviously didn’t play around when it came to Leila.

  “She thinks you’re hiding something.”

  Her revelation didn’t trouble Nick nearly as much as she’d feared. After the initial surprise faded, he let out a low laugh. “That woman knows me so well.”

  “So you are hiding something?” Sofia asked.

  “A three-carat diamond ring.”

  Oh, my God! “You’re going to propose?”

  “I’ve been trying to.”

  “It’s not that hard,” Sofia said. “You get down on one knee and ask.”

  “I want to do it in the new house,” Nick said. “The renovations are taking forever. The whole thing is throwing me off.”

  Sofia’s heart melted. This was the best news she’d heard in a long time. “Why the house? Take her to dinner or—”

  “No,” Nick said firmly. “I fell in love with that woman in that house. It’ll mean something to her if I do it there.”

  The story of the house was also the story of their love affair. Back when Leila had first started as his assistant, the house was the very first they’d sold together as a team. Sofia had helped organize a small-scale open house. When the house went back on the market one year later and was in bad need of repairs, Nick scooped it up. Now he planned to propose to Leila in the renovated space for the ultimate storybook conclusion.

  So this is how it is when a man loves a woman, Sofia thought. He’s eager to propose. She’d had to browbeat Franco. When he’d finally gotten down on one knee on the grainy sand of a beach in Key Largo, it had felt as if she’d scripted the whole thing.

  Nick reached out and raised her chin
with a finger. “Are you crying?”

  Sofia swatted his hand away and climbed into her car. “Just make it memorable,” she said through the open window. “Leila deserves the whole shebang. She deserves fireworks!”

  Nick vetoed the fireworks. “She’d prefer candlelight. You better stock up on candles. When the time comes, I’m going to need your help.”

  Chapter 19

  When Jon called her at work on Thursday, Sofia steeled herself. She wouldn’t fall for the same trick twice. But just in case she did, she asked Melissa to leave her office.

  “You’re not allowed to call me at work anymore,” she said.

  It took him a moment to catch on and when he did, his laughter rang hollow.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “Damn, you know me well. How can you tell?”

  “I don’t know,” Sofia said. “I’m just guessing.”

  Isn’t that what Nick had said about Leila? Something about her knowing him well? And Sofia knew how deeply Leila loved Nick; the man was her heart. She couldn’t be falling in love with Jon. Falling in love was the opposite of fun. Panicking, Sofia scanned her desktop for her stress ball. It was nowhere to be found, so she ripped a sheet of paper from a notepad and crumpled it.

  “My stepfather died this morning.”

  “Oh, my God.” Sofia put her panic attack on pause. She hadn’t expected that. “Jon, I’m sorry.”

  Family drama was her thing. How ironic that tragedy had struck in his court.

  “Kidney failure,” he said. “He was on dialysis for the last year and a half. I had no idea. That’s the kind of ass I am.”

  “You’re not...you’re not an ass.”

  “That’s what they all think.”

  He explained that his leaving home to join his father, only weeks after his stepdad had moved in, had long been perceived as a slight. His mother resented him for rejecting the home she’d worked hard to give him. His stepdad had only pretended not to care.

  “I don’t see it that way,” Sofia said. “Parents share custody all the time and—”

  “Hold on, sweetheart. Give me a second.”

  Jon had never called her by an endearment. Instead, he breathed life into her name and she’d always loved it. People tossed around “sweetheart” all the time, but the way he said it made it special. She wished he hadn’t said it over the phone. She wanted to see his face.

  Sofia’s heart, sugar sweet in her chest, was crumbling like day-old cake. She cradled the phone to her ear and listened to the fragmented conversation Jon was having with his assistant. He was making travel arrangements. Flight 2810 is full. First-class only? Go ahead. Book it. And get me a room at the W. Might as well be comfortable. He was leaving. That made sense. There’d be a funeral. There’d be family obligations. But she didn’t want him to go.

  “I won’t be coming home tonight,” he said, returning to their conversation. “The funeral is in the morning and I’ve got to be in Hoboken, New Jersey.”

  “When will you be back?” she asked.

  “Sunday.”

  A static silence filled the space between them.

  “I’m heading to the airport,” he said, bridging that silence.

  “Now? Don’t you have to pack? You’ll need a good suit, a change of underwear.” Why did she sound like a wife? Seriously, though, someone had to fuss over him. He lived such an isolated life. When life got rough, who was in his corner? He claimed to be close to his dad, but their only connection—as far as she could tell—was a nightstand drawer full of postcards.

  “I’ve got a suit here,” he said. “And a gym bag full of clean underwear.”

  She smiled at his unfailing wit. She summoned all her courage to squeak out the next few words. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Will you be there when I get back?” he asked.

  Tears sprang to Sofia’s eyes. Where else would she be? “Yes, Jon. And I’ll want to hear all about Hoboken.”

  “I won’t bore you with that story,” he said.

  Sofia sat very still at her desk long after Jon had said goodbye. She couldn’t believe the thoughts she was entertaining. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do. She called Melissa back into her office, not believing what she was about to say.

  “Do me a favor, please? Get me a seat on Flight 2810 to Hoboken.”

  “Hoboken, New Jersey?” Melissa asked, confused.

  “Is there another one?” She got up and offered the girl her seat. “Use my computer. I’ve got to put together a travel bag.”

  “How long will you be away?” Melissa asked.

  “One night.”

  In a corner of her office, an antique armoire held a small collection of clothes for quick changes when going home was not an option. She had a couple of plain black dresses to choose from. Jon didn’t like her in black, but she couldn’t show up at a funeral in canary yellow. And like Jon, she had a gym bag with a change of underwear, deodorant and shampoo. Was it enough? She’d pick up more stuff at the airport.

  “There’s an American Airlines Flight 2810 from Miami to JFK airport,” Melissa said after a quick search.

  “When does it leave?”

  “At two. It’s eleven-thirty now,” Melissa said. “You’d have to leave for the airport right away.”

  “That’s the one,” Sofia said.

  Melissa clicked around a bit and said regretfully, “The flight is full. First-class only.”

  “Book it. I’ve got miles.”

  Sofia folded the dresses into her gym bag. Attending the funeral wasn’t the important thing, she told herself while selecting the perfect pair of funeral pumps. She could wait for Jon at the hotel and make sure he didn’t spend all his time feeling guilty for supposedly being an ass of a stepson.

  A couple more clicks of the mouse and Melissa said, “All that’s left is an aisle seat.”

  “Book it, Melissa.”

  Window or aisle was irrelevant in first-class.

  * * *

  Sofia was the last passenger to board the plane. She spotted Jon right away at a window seat. He made for a ruggedly elegant traveler in his light gray suit, staring out the little oval window, his expression somber. By the look in the attendant’s eyes as she led Sofia to his row and the empty seat next to his, it was clear she thought Sofia had won the jackpot of travel companions.

  Sofia cleared her throat to get his attention. She hadn’t considered his reaction to her crashing his trip. She’d only considered her own need to be there for him. Now she worried he might think she was crazy. He looked up and their eyes locked. His expression was guarded, and after only a second, she lost her nerve.

  She could run off the plane...

  “Ma’am, please take your seat.”

  ...and never fly American again.

  Jon got up and took the gym bag from Sofia’s hands. He brushed past her to lift it into the overhead compartment. Then he took her by the waist and guided her into the seat he’d vacated, taking the aisle seat for himself.

  Sofia swallowed hard. How could she think he’d ever reject her?

  She turned to him, her voice shaky. “The thing to do is order food. When my uncle died a few of years ago, there was never enough food in the house.”

  “Is that the thing to do?” he asked wryly.

  “Yes,” she said. “Nobody needs flowers. What they need is food.”

  He reached over to fasten her seat belt. She rested her hands on his larger stronger ones, wanting to be strong for him.

  * * *

  Leila called while Jon was at the front desk trying to upgrade their standard hotel room to a suite.

  “Quick question,” Leila said. “Brie and I were considering a signature cocktail for Saturday night. We could invent something and call it the Star Island Star or maybe just
go with the classic Sex on the Beach. What do you think?”

  “Can’t really think right now,” Sofia whispered into the phone. “I’m in Hoboken.”

  “What in the world?” Leila said.

  Sofia crossed the sultry lobby. Its dim lights and pulsing music set a mood that was at odds with the purpose of their stay. She took a seat in a club chair underneath a sculptural modern chandelier.

  “Jon’s stepdad died,” she said. “The funeral is in the morning.”

  “Poor Jon!” Leila cried.

  Sofia reassured her that he was holding up okay, but she had some choice words about the so-called signature cocktail. “Nix it! This is not a rooftop party at the Clevelander. I’ve already consulted with a master sommelier. We’ll have champagne and the best wine selection.”

  “You think you’ll be back in time?” Leila asked tentatively.

  “I’m flying home tomorrow night,” Sofia replied. “Jon will stay on.”

  Leila mocked her. “You flew to New Jersey for one night? What a supportive girlfriend you are!”

  “I’m not his girlfriend.”

  “Of course not,” Leila said. “You flew to Hoboken for the funeral of your hookup’s stepdad, as one does.”

  Jon was done at the front desk. Sofia watched as he searched around for her and saw his face light up when he spotted her. He held up a couple of key cards triumphantly. Of course, he’d gotten the upgrade. He always got his way.

  * * *

  After they’d checked into the hotel, Jon took Sofia to his family home. He had to dip his head to enter the house. He felt like a giant in the tight foyer. Everything was as he had ever known it. The coats and jackets hanging on pegs and shoes lined up against the wall. The framed quote “God Bless our Mess!” hung crooked on a nail. And it took him a while to recalibrate. Every visit took him to the past. He’d left this house, a boy burdened with sadness and guilt. Guilt for having made a choice that had ultimately proved to be right for him. The night before he’d moved out, his mother had hollered at him, called him ungrateful. Thanks to Sofia, he now understood that his mother’s reaction might’ve been unbalanced.

  Sofia was standing close behind him. He helped her out of the raincoat she’d purchased at the hotel boutique. It was a crappy day, perfect for a funeral. His half sister, Lena, had welcomed them at the door. She was only seventeen, and she stared at Sofia as if she were an intruder. Jon would have none of that.