Unconditionally Mine Page 7

  Jon walked the few blocks to his office building and stepped into the cool lobby. He had the strange feeling of a door slamming shut behind him.

  * * *

  Once in his office, he got Leila on the phone.

  Chapter 10

  WHERE ARE YOU???

  This was Sofia’s tenth text to Franco with no response. The guests were seated. The priest, soloist and organist were ready and waiting. And still no word from Franco.

  A day ago, she’d stopped by the dealership to drop off his boutonniere. He’d had good news and bad news. “I leave for Costa Rica on Sunday. These last few months have been stressful. I need to get away.”

  “All the way to Costa Rica?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Pura vida.”

  “So they say.”

  If the past months had been stressful, she’d designed it that way. She’d wanted him to suffer. And yet today it gave her no joy. She eyed him from head to toe. If her mother had seen him, she’d say he looked thin. Then she’d blame him for skipping Sunday dinners for weeks in a row. “How long will you be gone?”

  “A couple months,” he replied. “Pike will run things.”

  Steve Pike ran the used car division. Franco managed new car sales. Still, leaving him in charge of the whole dealership for months? That was not a thing she could do. She and Franco had very different managerial styles. Sofia didn’t micromanage, but she stayed on top of things. Franco had a laissez-faire attitude, and as a result the business had suffered some losses and been audited twice.

  “What’s the bad news?” she asked.

  “The condo. I planned on paying you back for all the upgrades, but I’m going to need a little time. I’m kind of cash poor.”

  Sofia hadn’t even thought about it. The condo had belonged to Franco’s parents. They’d passed it on to him when they’d moved to Boston to be close to relatives—a move Sofia had never understood. Over the years she’d spent money on renovations, tailoring the space to her tastes. She’d renovated the kitchen, splurged on a custom closet and replaced the carpet with hardwood.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Sofia said, adding quickly, “for now.”

  “Thanks.” Franco picked up the boutonniere still in its box and gave it a rattle. “Don’t worry about tomorrow. I’m ready. I’ve picked up my suit from the cleaners and everything.”

  Sofia nodded, her throat tight. This was goodbye. He’d been a fixture in her life since her teenage years and she realized with some panic that she was scared of a future without him. She could be imagining things, but he looked just as scared.

  “Sofia, you were my best friend and my first love,” he said. “I need you to know that.”

  Now it looked as if her best friend and first love had stood her up. Fabulous.

  The limo pulled up to the curb. Miguel, looking like a new man in a blue Hugo Boss suit, came out of the church. “Move it!” he said, and rushed past her down the steps.

  Sofia put away her phone. It was time.

  * * *

  Ordinarily, Sofia found the church’s interior oppressive with its statues of saints staring down in judgment. But that afternoon, sunlight touched all the gold accents and the space glowed. Sofia pushed Franco out of her mind, swallowed her rancor and focused on the ceremony. Her mother was radiant in a caramel lace dress. Her father looked distinguished in a tuxedo. Her parents held hands and promised to love each other for the rest of their lives to swelling organ music. There was no doubt in anybody’s mind that they would. The matter had been settled thirty-five years ago. Her parents loved each other. The priest in his robe wouldn’t make that love any more sacred. Sofia was resigned that she, and maybe even Miguel, might never find that type of love.

  Later, at the Intercontinental, Sofia and Miguel welcomed the guests with a toast to the future of their family. They managed to do it without the assistance of her fiancé or his wife, and the sky did not fall. Soon after, her mother made a big to-do of presenting Sofia with her bouquet made of roses and orchids. Then she grabbed Sofia by the elbow and dragged her out to the atrium off the hotel lobby. There, in private seclusion, she let Sofia have it.

  “Where’s Franco?” she demanded. “Don’t lie.”

  Sofia was exhausted. She couldn’t come up with a lie if she tried. As far as she knew, Franco had fallen off the earth, or taken off to Costa Rica.

  “Okay, Mom. Here’s the truth.”

  Sofia’s phone buzzed in her hand. The truth would have to wait. Franco was calling.

  * * *

  Tax fraud.

  At two in the morning, Sofia and Franco were arguing—like old times. Only this time it was over the phone. Her parents had insisted Sofia leave the party to be with him. She’d drawn a bright line there. “I’ve worked really hard to make this event beautiful and memorable for you. So help me God, I’m not leaving.”

  Her parents had backed down. Still, they insisted on a full report in the morning or they threatened not to leave for their trip to Italy. Franco, released on bail, didn’t seem to think the situation was all that serious.

  “They caught wind of my travel plans, thought I was skipping town,” he said. “They jumped the gun.”

  Sofia noted his tone. It was as if the arrest putting a dent in his travel plans was the most disturbing thing.

  “Were you skipping town?” she asked.

  “No! Can’t say for sure what this is all about. I gave the auditor all the information she asked for.”

  It all had to do with state sales taxes. As a small business owner, all Sofia knew about the state sales tax was that you had to pay it.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.” Franco assured her again he hadn’t broken any laws. “You’ve got to believe me.”

  She believed him. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a crook.

  “I’m going to need a good lawyer, Sofia,” Franco said. “Pike’s lawyer seems shady to me.”

  That was no surprise. Pike himself had always seemed shady to Sofia.

  “But maybe Luis knows someone.”

  Franco’s cousin Luis was an ambulance chaser. Who could he possibly know?

  “Or maybe I should use a referral service? What do you think?”

  “I know someone,” Sofia said.

  She also knew she’d live to regret having said it.

  * * *

  Early Monday morning, Jon’s assistant came into his office with a stack of files.

  “I booked your flight to Atlanta,” Alex said. “Last flight out next Tuesday.”

  Jon lowered his binoculars and turned away from the window. “Do me a favor. Look up a yacht called Prize Fighter. I love that name.”

  Jon could see the impressive vessel from his desk and it had drawn him to the window. He was determined to know who owned it.

  As he went on with the serious business of the Google search, Alex casually mentioned Sofia. “You have a new client inquiry from a Sofia Silva. She called this morning asking for a meeting. I told her you weren’t taking new clients, but she said she’s a friend.” With a chuckle, he added, “They all say that.”

  Sofia reaching out? Now that was news to lift a man’s sails.

  “Did she leave a number?” Jon asked.

  “Yes. I can get her on the phone for you,” Alex said. “But first, you’re going to love this. Prize Fighter is owned by movie director—”

  “Never mind that! Get me the number.”

  By the time Alex had made it to the door, Jon had a better idea. She’d called his office and gone the professional route, requesting a “meeting.” He’d play along. “You know what? Call her back. Set up the meeting.”

  “What time?”

  “Any time. Right now.”

  “But don’t you have—”

  “This is a priority.”

&n
bsp; Alex returned in five minutes. “She’ll be here at eleven with Mr. Francisco Ramirez.”

  Holy crap! This was an actual meeting.

  Alex reminded him of an upcoming conference call. While Jon motored through his morning, Sofia was never far from his mind. Nothing lessened the thrill that she’d sought him out. Needed him. And when she arrived at his office dressed as if for a funeral in a plain black dress and black pumps, he was confident he had the upper hand. Jon watched her take in the large windows framing the bay and the bookcases lining the wall behind his desk. When their eyes met... Thunder.

  He nodded. I’ve missed you, too.

  Jon knew instinctively that the man who trailed behind her, this Francisco Ramirez, was the so-called fiancé. Here they were, all gathered on what could only be labeled his turf.

  Jon set a cordial tone. “Let’s have a seat.”

  He led them to the seating area under the window. Sofia sat next to Ramirez on the leather couch, and Jon sat opposite them. She thanked him for agreeing to the meeting on such short notice and for taking the case.

  Jon addressed the fiancé. He had to make a few things clear. “I haven’t agreed to represent you, Mr. Ramirez. If I can’t help, I’ll be sure to direct you to the right person for the job.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Sofia’s expression darken. Before she could say anything, Jon added, “Either way, you’ve come to the right place. So why don’t you tell me what the issue is.”

  As it turned out, the issue was plain: the alleged withholding of state taxes collected on used car sales. Why people thought they could get away with crap like that was beyond him. The DMV collected data on every car sold in the state.

  “Can you help him?” Sofia asked.

  “Not personally, no.” He was currently representing an investment firm in a fraud case with millions at stake. That was his speed. “But I have someone on my team who’d be perfect for this case.”

  The associate that he had in mind was fresh out of law school but, by all accounts, brilliant.

  Sofia sat stiffly, her hands gripping the edge of the couch. And, wait one second! She wasn’t wearing her ring. Today of all days. Interesting.

  “And when will we meet him?” Ramirez asked.

  For a second there, Jon had forgotten all about him. “Her name is Stephanie Conwell. I’ll have my assistant check her availability. She might be able to take a meeting right away.”

  Jon left them alone. He called Stephanie from Alex’s desk to get her up to speed and arrange the meeting. When he returned, they were as he’d left them, sitting in silence and staring straight ahead.

  “You’re in luck. Ms. Conwell is available,” Jon said. “Alex will accompany you two to her office.”

  Ramirez hopped to his feet. “Okay. Let’s go, Sofia.”

  “I’ll stay here,” she said.

  Ramirez looked dumbfounded. “But don’t you want to—”

  “No.”

  Jon looked to one, then the other. “I’ll give you two a minute to talk.”

  “No, don’t!” Sofia said.

  Her pleading tone grabbed Jon by the heart.

  “It’s your office,” she said. “You shouldn’t have to leave.”

  Ramirez hesitated. “Okay,” he said.

  As soon as he was gone, Jon joined Sofia on the couch.

  They had plenty to talk about.

  Chapter 11

  Alone with Jon, Sofia steeled herself against the difficult conversation ahead. In coming here, asking his help, she knew she’d owe him an explanation. Jon was smart, observant and had surely picked up on the tension between Franco and herself. He’d have questions and she owed him the truth.

  “I like you in color,” he said.

  Naturally, he’d start with a disarming one-liner. Sofia looked down at her strict black dress. It was the most conservative thing she owned, and she had wanted to look serious.

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” she said.

  “That’s not possible,” he replied. “I have some questions.”

  She nodded. “I’m ready.”

  “Do you two have any financial ties? Have you received any direct funds from him or anyone associated with him? Do you know the pedigree of any money you’ve received?”

  “Pedigree? Jon, please!” Sofia cried. “Our businesses are completely independent.”

  “Your businesses, sure. But you two are a couple. Do you have any joint accounts? Has he made any deposits into your personal accounts? If there’s any comingling of funds—”

  “We’re not a couple,” Sofia said flatly. “There’s no comingling of any kind.”

  The air in his stylish office grew still. Sofia stared at the tips of her shoes, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

  “Since when?” he asked, the lawyerly tone replaced by something softer.

  Sofia let out all the breath in her lungs. “A few months now.”

  “You’re saying I’ve been right this whole time,” he said.

  It wasn’t a question, but Sofia answered yes anyway.

  “Why would you do that to me?” he asked.

  “I had my reasons.”

  “Could you share them?”

  “A year ago, my mother had a massive heart attack.” That was how it had all started, with her mother, the ox of the family, suddenly vulnerable and sick. “She had open heart surgery and for a while, we thought she was going to die.”

  “Sofia...” Jon said.

  “She made it through okay. Then Miguel got divorced. It had been a long time coming, but my mother took it hard. The doctors had warned us against depression. It’s common during recovery. Miguel’s divorce likely had nothing to do with it. Still, she took it hard.”

  Jon was listening, head low. Sofia continued. “So when things fell apart with Franco—”

  “You kept the news of your own breakup from her,” Jon said.

  “From her and everyone.”

  “How does that make sense, Sofia?” he asked.

  “I had an exit plan.”

  “I’d love to hear it.”

  She told him about the anniversary party on Saturday, and how she and Franco were supposed to toast to the future of their family and then promptly cut all ties with each other.

  “And Ramirez agreed to this?”

  Ramirez had no choice, Sofia thought. But she couldn’t imagine Jon agreeing to anything like it.

  “So this party for your parents,” Jon continued. “How did it go?”

  “He never showed,” Sofia said. “He’d been arrested.”

  “Now what?”

  “Now my parents are all full of concern for him.”

  “And so are you,” Jon said. “You’re helping him find a lawyer.”

  “He’s not just my ex, Jon,” Sofia said. “He’s an old family friend and he came to me for help. What was I supposed to do?”

  Walking away wasn’t an option, not with her parents calling for updates every few hours. And soon, she expected his parents to join the chorus. This way, at least, she could assure them that Franco was settled with a decent lawyer before washing her hands of the whole thing.

  “You could’ve given him my number and sent him off,” Jon said. “And you could’ve not worn that dress.”

  Again with the dress! Sofia turned to confront him. “You really hate this dress, don’t you?”

  “I really do,” Jon said. “Are you going to tell your parents the truth and cut this guy loose?”

  “As soon as they get back from Italy.”

  She explained it was her mother’s dream to visit the Vatican. The woman deserved to enjoy her trip. Her answer didn’t satisfy him. He waited, eyes level, for something more.

  “I’m sorry I lied to you,” Sofia said.

  Jon f
ell silent, and Sofia grew worried. He was such the talker; his silence wasn’t natural.

  “None of this has been fun for me, Jon,” she said. “Meeting you was the one highlight of these past months.”

  He tilted his head and looked at her a long while. Then he said, “You know what you need?”

  “A time machine so I can go back to when we first met and start over?”

  “That or a cup of tea,” he said.

  “Tea? Like chamomile tea?” she asked.

  “Like breakfast tea with milk and sugar.” He got up and extended a hand. “Come with me.”

  Sofia let him help her off the couch. Her hand felt cold when he let it go. She followed him out of the office and down the hall to a break room where a few of his colleagues were chatting. He said hello and introduced her as a friend. Then he chose two Keurig cups of English breakfast tea from a bin. He worked quietly, preparing two cups of tea, milk and sugar and all.

  “I can’t believe what I’ve just witnessed here,” one woman said, bewildered.

  “Settle down,” Jon said. “It’s only tea.”

  “You’ve never made us tea!”

  This reproach came from an older man in a Hawaiian shirt. Sofia liked the offbeat office atmosphere. She could see how Jon fit in. This morning, she couldn’t decide whether she was genuinely helping Franco find a lawyer or looking for an excuse to see Jon in his element. Both were true.

  “Maybe if you asked nicely,” Jon said.

  “I’ll be sure to!” the woman said.

  He took their cups and led her back to his office. “You can’t have lived in the UK and not get hooked on this stuff,” he said. “Actually, a girl I liked got me hooked.”

  “Of course there’s a woman involved,” Sofia said drily.

  “We were sixteen. She was still a girl, and I was a hound.”

  “Since we’re on the topic of women—”

  “I thought we were on the topic of tea. And taxes.”

  “Doesn’t your ex work here?” she asked.

  Sofia just now remembered the teary Brazilian beauty. She wondered if it was awkward for him having to see her every day. Would it be awkward if they ran into her now? He didn’t answer until they were back on his couch.