exotic pets allowed, even the plates and silverware were touted as being the best in the world and she thought it all pretentious foolishness on Paolo’s part.
To keep from embarrassing her mother, who worked for Paolo’s mother a few years before, Sofia stayed until other guests began to mingle and walk around the enormous dining hall—a new addition since her mother had worked there. She hadn’t been able to stomach the food, Master Chef or not, the man’s food was borderline disgusting. She gagged at the first bite of everything served except the French Onion soup, which she tolerated very well considering how awful the rest had been.
Standing, hoping to blend in with some of the guests, Sofia made her way to the door through which she’d entered. She wanted to be back home, resting her feet on her day off from work, not milling around with a bunch of rich snooty people.
Easing out the door, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least her car was in sight and leaving the property and the parading Paolo behind was closer than it had been ninety minutes ago.
A man called from a covered portico on the second floor of the house as she reached her car. “Sofia! Wait a minute. I’d like to speak with you.”
It was Paolo. “I really must be going. I have…somewhere to be. Thank you for the dinner.” She opened her door and got under the wheel.
Paolo appeared in front of her car before she could put it in gear and drive away. Grunting with displeasure, she took off her sunglasses and rolled down her window. Couldn’t he see that she was so obviously not interested in talking to him?
“Hey! I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. I don’t seem to remember you, though you do look somewhat familiar. Tomas says your name is Sofia Aurora Romano.” He held out his hand.
Nodding, Sofia forced a smile. Reluctantly, she offered her hand to him. He immediately kissed the back of it; not what she was expecting at all. She withdrew her hand and rubbed the back of it against her dress inconspicuously.
“Yes, that’s right. You actually invited my mother but she was ill and unable to attend so she asked me to come in her place. I hope that was all right.” She really didn’t care if it was or not; if he threw her off his property, she at least didn’t have to worry about ever coming back for any reason.
Smiling, he winked at her. “It’s more than all right, Sofia.” He leaned on his forearms against the place where the window had been moments before. He was right in her face.
She pushed away from him, feeling awkward at his uninvited closeness. Were they on a first-name basis with one another? She didn’t give permission to be called Sofia by him or anyone else there. The familiarity in his tone annoyed her. She’d see how he liked it if she called him by his first name.
He was very handsome, but he was also vain. His looks were the kind that were groomed into perfection so that he looked like a GQ model; she didn’t like it even though she thought he was handsome.
“Well, in that case, thank you, Paolo.”
She smiled her best smile at him as the expression morphed and changed, finally settling back to refined and groomed. At least there’d been a change in expression; at least she knew it had affected him that she’d flipped the table and used his first name without even trying to be polite and show respect that most rich people in his circle demanded. Especially from the poorer people like herself and her mother.
“Wouldn’t you like to stay for the after-dinner party? It gets really fun around sunset and I think you’d enjoy it.” Paolo held his smile and waited.
“I don’t really think so. Sorry.”
She couldn’t keep the displeasure from her face as she looked around the grounds. His father had been a hard worker and so had his mother; Sofia would bet her next paycheck that Paolo never worked hard a day in his life. His overindulgence in material things, his pride in his own wealth and status was distasteful.
“I’m sorry to hear that; really. The party will be missing something special in your absence.” He stood, still with that perfect smile pressed into place, showing just the right amount of his perfect teeth to be beautiful. “I was wondering…who exactly is your mother; Romano isn’t ringing any bells for me for some reason. Of course, I made the guest list myself but that was three months ago at least.”
Ooh! So flippant, so nonchalant; who didn’t remember the guests they invited to such extravagant events? Clearing her throat and averting her eyes so that he wouldn’t see the immediate anger, Sofia said, “Martina Chiara Romano. She worked as your mother’s personal assistant years ago.” She couldn’t force a smile without feeling trite so she didn’t try.
Paolo stood there mouthing her mother’s name repeatedly for some seconds. Growing impatient, Sofia said, “I really must be going now. I need to see about my mother.”
His attention snapped back to her. “Of course, I hope she is on the mend soon. Are you certain you won’t return for an evening of guaranteed fun here?” He motioned to the courtyard where little lights were winking on as dusk began to creep over the land.
Sofia shook her head.
“I’ll give you a tour of the mansion, a tour of the grounds, show you my private collection of items from all over the world—you know, of course, each item is the best that money can buy.” His grin widened and his eyes twinkled.
Did he think he was being cute? Did he think he could woo her with all his pretentious, rich kid bullshit? Her cheeks flushed with heat.
“I’m sorry, but the answer is still no. I don’t even know why you would invite my mother to something like this. She would have been the only working-class woman here. Did you do it to embarrass her? Were you hoping to woo her with all your money—none of which you actually worked to earn? I’m sorry. I must go now.” Angrily, she rolled up her window without waiting for his response and jammed the car into gear, pulling out much faster than she intended.
Chapter 3
Expanding His Private Collection
Paolo watched Sofia speed away. Why would she turn down his personal invitation to his party? Everyone raved about how awesome his parties were—live bands, and not the local yokels who were just starting out, either; sometimes, as tonight, there would be a full opera going on. He had a proper stage built months earlier and had worked on hiring opera house workers to perform for him a total of three times a year for the foreseeable future. It had cost him a small fortune to acquire all the things necessary for the event; did Sofia not know this? Was she just upset because her mother was ill? Did she have a personal vendetta against him that he didn’t know about or was she like that with all people?
He would’ve taken her angry outburst much more to heart if she’d been ugly and he knew that. At least he was honest with himself. He turned and walked back toward the house, and there, in the shade of one of the columns, stood Tomas.