A short rap on the door put an end to her depressive stupor and she looked to it.
‘Yes?’
The door opened and Andrew poked his head around. ‘Isn’t it time you left?’
‘I will, soon.’
He nodded but didn’t make to leave, his eyes narrowed on her instead. ‘Mr McGregor seemed nice.’
Sophia’s heart gave an involuntary flutter, just as it had every time she’d found herself reflecting on their little encounter that afternoon. ‘Yes, and were they happy when you left?’
‘Well, I think Ms Archer would’ve been happier to see the child disciplined more, but as far as their accommodation goes they’re happy enough.’
‘Good.’
‘So, I’m off...’ He hesitated on the threshold. ‘You will go home soon?’
Sophia gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Yes, soon.’
‘Okay, goodnight.’
‘’Night.’
He pulled the door closed and Sophia looked back to her computer screen, starting to kill the applications still running. She was about to shut down her internet browser when the face of Jack McGregor came back to her, the instant effect he’d had on her pulse just as effective now.
She’d never felt anything like it. Ever. She was a twenty-four-year-old woman with zero relationship experience, zero experience of men really, unless you counted the odd fumbling kiss in her teens. She’d pretty much considered that part of her physical make-up dead, any frisson of excitement lost in her well-controlled exterior and the persistent ache left by the loss of Amy, her happy-go-lucky sister.
But she’d felt it looking into his eyes, she couldn’t deny it. Not just the thrill, the kick to her pulse; there had been a connection she couldn’t shake. It had taken her all to reinstate the professional front, turn down his offer of dinner and leave.
Was it the fact he had suffered too? The loss of someone he had loved? Was there some weird underlying connection drawing her to him?
She wasn’t an old romantic. When her friends had dreamed of fairy-tale weddings, two-point-four children and happy-ever-afters she’d thrown herself into her studies, making sure she was the best she could possibly be, that she achieved and achieved. Not that it had made her home life easier.
No, she’d been invisible to her parents. It didn’t matter what she did, what awards she won, what promotion she earned. She could never bring back her little sister, the one she should have been taking care of when it happened—an accident she herself had instigated.
That same wrenching motion took hold of her gut and her hand went to her stomach, her lungs dragging in air. It would pass. The nausea always did soon enough. But the force of it was always the same, the pain no less than it had been when she was fourteen.
But today...today she’d had a glimpse of an entirely different emotion, one that gave her hope that she had no right to feel, and her fingers moved to the keyboard, almost of their own volition, his name appearing letter by letter. She hit the enter key before she could reconsider and there he was, filling her screen: images across the top, article after article listed below.
What are you doing, Sophia?
It was likely he had no interest in her. Why would he? He was a billionaire businessman leading a life set so far apart from her own...but it didn’t stop her looking, didn’t stop her seeking the distraction he so readily represented, or preventing the spark he lit within her.
She smiled at the screen, her body indulging in the escapist fantasy he represented and for the first time in her life she understood the dreams of her peers in their teens.
Shame she was far too wise for dreams, far too weathered to find passion, fun and whatever else Jack had inspired in her. But sitting there in the privacy of her office she could pretend she was normal, that she was capable of more, that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to be dead on the inside too.
* * *
Jack was at a loss.
He’d dealt with Connor and the unexpected hurdle in their takeover bid. He had calmed Ms Archer to the point that she hadn’t chosen to pack in the job altogether and he’d decided to give her one more chance. And he’d been on hand at bedtime, coaxing Lily into her pyjamas and bed without too much fuss. But his daughter’s last words as he’d bade her goodnight echoed with his own internal plea.
Please can we see Sphea again?
He rarely had an interest in anyone outside of Lily, outside of work. The last time he had tried for more he’d been a disappointment, long before the hit-and-run, long before Lily even. He’d tried to make Elena happy, he truly had, but it had never been enough—he wasn’t enough.
He raked his fingers through his hair and leaned forward in his chair, reaching out for the whisky decanter on his desk and pouring a decent measure.