Chapter 2. Sophie

Hours have passed since Reina and Marcus left my studio, yet their lingering presence continues to disrupt my focus. Clutching the document before me, my attempt to read devolves into a futile struggle against memories of Marcus and the revelations unveiled just moments ago.

Across the table is my sister Jessica, who has been going on about the progress of my business and several things we could do to make it better. Things I'm barely listening to right now. While I am the creative director of my brand and devote all of my time to the dresses I make, Jessica handles all the business parts. She's the best manager I could have ever asked for though she could be rather annoying when she wants to be. The disadvantage of having a relative to run your business along with you.

When she sees I'm not responding, she pauses in her speech and leans forward, her eyes scanning my face with an unwavering gaze. "Sophie, is everything alright? You've barely said anything since I arrived."

I let out a smile, doing my best to appear neutral. "Of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" I mutter before scoffing, picking up another piece of document and trying to read through it once more. I can barely register the words on it.

"That's not how someone who is fine sounds like," she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest as she peers down at me. "What's going on with you?"

"Like I said, there's nothing wrong. Let it go already," I mutter through gritted teeth, feeling my frustration mount.

She narrows her eyes, not buying my feeble attempt at diversion. "Sophie, don't play games with me. I know you. Spill it."

"You're starting to get very annoying right now," I snap back, and immediately regret it. Her gaze hardens, but she lets out a sigh and waves it off.

"Whatever, you do what you want," she mutters, looking away. I let out a sigh, feeling guilty.

"Are you already mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad? It's up to you to tell me if you want to, and from the looks of it, you don't want to. So, I won't press." She says. Though she looks okay with it, she still sounds rather peeved.

I nod, partly relieved she isn't pushing but also quite disappointed that she didn't force me to tell her either. Jessica can be rather tenacious when she wants to be. The urge to tell someone gnaws at me, however and soon I find myself opening my mouth to talk to her.

"It's just... Something happened and I really don't want to talk about it. At least, not right now."

"Just like I said, suit yourself." She says and the conversation is closed. We continue with more important things but when my attention keeps wavering, Jessica just had to stop.

"It seems you're out of it today. Why don't you retire early so you can get yourself back together?" Jessica suggests, and I find myself contemplating it. Then, I shake my head afterwards.

"I don't think so. I still have so many things that I need to do."

"You should take a break every once in a while, Sophie. You work too hard. The last thing I want is you breaking down. You almost did that, remember?" Jessica says, and I nod, unbiddenly remembering the time I spent at an exotic island, cut off from the world, trying to recuperate.

Where I met Marcus for the first time...

I clear my throat, trying to wipe away all the memories before adopting an impassive look. "You're probably right, I'll retire early tonight."

"I'm glad to hear that," Jessica says, a small smile adorning her face. I return it, and soon we begin discussing trivial things. Our topic ranges from the latest gossip circulating around town, before touching on our sister, Emma, who's deep in her studies, trying to become a neuroscientist. We also talk about her as well, and things seem to be going well for her as well. She visibly lights up when I ask about her husband, Devon, going on to tell me he'll be returning from his business trip soon.

"So are you going to see him or is he going to whisk you away from here?" I ask sarcastically, and she grins, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ears, her cheeks flushed.

"I should probably go to see him; he should be here anytime soon. I already told him I was in New York, visiting you." She tells me, a whimsical expression on her face. I snort, doing my best to appear peeved. Jessica rolls her eyes in return.

"Then, he should have arrived," I start to say but barely get the sentence out when a knock comes on the door and before waiting for anyone's reply, pushes open and Jessica's husband walks in. "Speak of the devil, he's already here."

Devon throws a glance in my direction, giving me a small nod of acknowledgement before walking towards Jessica, lowering himself to give her a kiss. I fake-gag at the action, but Jessica just grins, truly happy to have him around.

"Good afternoon, ladies, hope I'm not interrupting anything?" He asks, turning to me. I shrug, grimacing slightly before breaking into a smile.

"You are, so I suggest you go back."

"That's too bad. I was hoping to take my wife along with me," he says, placing his hands on her shoulders as he kisses her hair. Jessica reaches to hold her hands on his shoulders, giving him a genial smile. I watch the two interact, feeling happy for the both of them but also slightly envious as well. Marriage is the last thing I would expect from Jessica, but they seem to be doing just fine. My thoughts drift to Marcus again but I wipe it away before they can take any root.

"Looks like that's all the time we have for today. We'll be going now. Take care of yourself," Jessica says, standing to her feet. Devon pulls her close to him in one swift move, peppering kisses all over her face and drawing giggles from Jessica.

"Get out of here already!" I yell at them, shooing them away from my office.

"I'll see you later, Sophie. Don't forget to rest early!" she yells as the door closes behind her.

Left alone once again, I let out a sigh and slump in my chair, looking up at the ceiling. I try to return to work, but success eludes me. Without anything to distract me, I'm overwhelmed with my thoughts, catching myself multiple times, picking at my nails or gnawing at my lower lip. I let out a sigh, running a hand through my hair. I need to get out of here.

Donning my coat, I run a hand through my hair, wear my glasses, and step out of my office. New York, vibrant as always, greets me with its peculiar scent and the never-ending throng of passersby that line the passageway, the roads filled with cars. I look up at the sky, gauging the time. It's early evening.

My sister had told me to take a break and relax, but my version of relaxing is totally different from hers. Using my car, I drive straight to a club. It's already dark by the time I arrive at my favorite spot in town. Turning off the ignition, I take in a deep breath, stepping out of the car, and walking into the club.

Loud music blares from the speakers, and neon lights pouring from all directions of the room greet me the second I step in. The air, thick with perfume, alcohol, and sweat assaults my nose, and it takes all the self-control in me to not scrunch it up. Rolling my eyes, I make my way in. Sidestepping dancers and avoiding couples already making out on the dance floor, I reach the bar and order a drink, settling myself on the barstool. I just want to stop thinking.

The bartender places a shot of vodka in front of me, and after nodding my thanks, I pick it up and down it in one go. I hiss as the alcohol makes its way past my throat, but the burning sensation is exactly what I want. Setting the glass down, I take in the environment around me.

The alcohol soon begins to do its job, and I feel all my tension and worry melt away like snow. Finally able to breathe, I look around me, taking in the scene. Everyone here is having fun, people dancing on the dance floor, strangers becoming friends beneath the neon lights, and the promise of a good time is hard to miss.

I take another shot of alcohol and feel my head begin to grow light, the alcohol seeping into my system. Giving myself a self-deprecating smile, I look around once more, hoping to find at least one person to crash the night with. It's impossible. Everyone I see, I subconsciously compare to Marcus, and before I know it, thoughts of him flood my head again.

Oh come on Sophie, let him go already. He's not yours anymore!

Besides, he's getting engaged to marry someone else, and you're designing the wedding dress. It's high time you forgot about him. Giving up on the prospect of ever finding anyone, I finish up my last shot of alcohol and make to pay for my drink when someone approaches me.

"Hello beautiful..." The man slurs, getting into the chair next to me as he flashes his teeth at me. I grimace, completely ignoring him as the bartender hands me back my card.

"No thanks," I mutter and make to leave when he grabs my wrist and tries to pull me closer. "Let me go!" I snapped at him, swatting his hands away, but he seems undeterred.

"Not at all. You seemed lonely. Why don't we have a good time?"

Before I know it, he is in front of me, blocking my exit, and I made to throw a scathing remark at him when another voice—deep, accented, and commanding—interjected.

"She said no. Let her go."