CHAPTER 67: DELIBERATELY LATE

Aiden paced nervously at a distance, unable to bring himself to go any closer.

After a little while his phone suddenly rang.

Of all people — it was Ethan.

"Hello?"

He spoke low, keeping his voice from the others.

"Get over here — now! Save me!"

Ethan appeared in the hotel basement in a disheveled state; the paparazzi had managed to snap his face earlier.

Aiden’s brow tightened. He cut the call and walked toward the exit at once.

If Ethan was exposed, there’d be hell to pay — and Aiden sure as hell wouldn’t be spared.

They were in the same boat; nothing could go wrong for either of them.

Sophia watched him go.

"It’s getting late. Want to head back, or watch the drama?" Lucas asked, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly.

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "At night? Watch the drama? Really?"

"If you don’t want to go, then we won’t."

"No! Why not? I kind of like watching the drama at night."

She glanced at Harper — she was with William and would be fine.

In the hotel basement, Ethan pressed a hand to his lower back, his face ashen.

The moment the car pulled up he’d wanted to run straight inside.

"Where have you been? Don’t you know how awkward my situation is?!" Ethan’s face darkened when he slid into the seat.

Aiden didn’t look much better.

"I decided to help you — and you blew it? Ethan, you’ve really let me down. How am I supposed to face them now?"

Ethan’s eyes were hollow, a painful spot ached in a place he wouldn’t mention.

"Don’t worry — I didn’t give them any of your info."

"You better not have."

When coming out of the underground garage, Aiden saw many paparazzi and asked the driver to speed up and leave the scene immediately.

"You okay?" Aiden asked, practical as ever — Ethan was dumb, but he was still useful.

"I... I’m fine." Ethan forced the words, careful not to show anything off.

"Listen," Aiden warned, "you’d be wise to get out of City Y fast."

"I know," Ethan said, but then his voice dropped low and hard. "Aiden, one thing I’m telling you — Sophia. I must have her. If I can’t get her, I’ll destroy her."

He told her to be obedient, but she refused!

Not only did she refuse, but she actually dared to resist!

And let a man have sex with him...

Ethan clenched his fists, his head full of humiliation. If he didn’t avenge, he vowed, he wouldn’t be a man.

The car pulled away.

Not far off, Sophia rested her chin on her hand and watched their shadows recede.

"Feeling better now?" Lucas — who had played driver himself — watched them go.

"Ethan won’t stay in City Y much longer. Once he’s back in City A, the story online will ferment for days. The people who run the Trump family won’t let him off."

"And you?" Lucas asked, looking at her, then added, "I can’t stay in City Y forever. I have company business — I need to go back."

"Then go," she replied. "I’m not keeping you here. But don’t get any ideas about my kids while I’m gone."

"Getting ideas?" he repeated, amusement flickering. "Sounds like there’s more to that comment."

"We have a contract," she said. "I’ll keep my guard up. Lucas — it’s not that I don’t trust you; I don’t trust anyone."

"Even Harper?" he pressed.

She fell silent.

Lucas gave a teasing smile. "If you can’t answer, don’t be so absolute with your words. I’m heading back to City A tomorrow. As my wife, you’ll stay in City Y and handle the remaining partnership talks."

Sophia paused.

He’d just given her a perfectly reasonable excuse to stay — and signaled to others that anyone wanting to work with Hilton Group would have to get past her first.

"I won’t be thanking you for that."

"Oh? Really?"

Lucas’s smile curled faintly, unreadable.

—The next morning—

Lucas had already taken the earliest flight out.

When Sophia opened her eyes, she was still a little dazed.

But someone was up even earlier.

Knock, knock, knock—

The sound at the door grew more insistent. Sophia frowned.

"Who is it?"

Who would come knocking at this hour?

She opened the door and found a man standing there, his gaze sliding up and down her with blatant arrogance.

Sophia’s expression darkened. "Mr. Wright?"

"So you do recognize me. Guess I must be pretty memorable."

It was Mary’s son—Nathan Wright.

Dressed in a tailored suit, but with dyed red hair and sneakers, he was the definition of pretentious rebellion.

"What do you want, Mr. Wright? You do realize if someone sees you standing outside my room, it won’t look very good?"

Nathan leaned lazily against the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"My mother wants to see you."

Sophia’s brow twitched. "If Mrs. Wright wants to see me, she should come herself. Sending you instead—how insincere."

"Don’t push your luck, Sophia." His voice turned sharp. "My mom asking to meet you is an honor!"

"Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?"

"Please," he scoffed. "You’re just someone who climbed your way up through the sheets. You don’t need to remind everyone—trust me, we know."

He reached out and tugged at the hem of her shirt.

Sophia’s tone dropped, icy and lethal. "Pull that hand another inch, and I’ll make sure you never use it again."

Nathan froze.

He might be arrogant, but he wasn’t stupid. No matter what, she was Lucas Hilton’s woman—and touching her could get him killed.

He let out a low laugh, stepping back. "Relax, I was joking. Don’t take it so seriously. My mom’s waiting in the café downstairs. Don’t keep her waiting."

Sophia gave a soft, mocking smile and slammed the door in his face.

"You—!"

Nathan’s face twisted. No woman had ever slammed a door on him before.

Fine.

He’d remember this.

—Half an hour later—

Nathan scowled, pacing outside her room. "Sophia, what the hell are you doing in there?!"

No answer.

Inside, Sophia was having breakfast in complete peace.

Afterward, she filed her nails, applied a touch of tinted gloss, and read the morning paper for another twenty minutes.

—An hour later—

Downstairs, in the café.

Mary’s coffee cup was already empty.

"Mom, she’s here," Nathan muttered through gritted teeth, shooting a glare behind him.

Sophia appeared with a serene smile. "Mrs. Wright. Good morning."

Mary’s tone was clipped. "Miss Morgan, is punctuality not part of your vocabulary? Being late is a fatal flaw in the business world."

Her gaze swept over Sophia, inch by inch.

The more she looked, the more convinced she was—

Yes. The resemblance was uncanny. She had to be that woman’s daughter.

Sophia’s lips curved slightly. "When meeting someone important, one must take time to look presentable. Naturally, I couldn’t meet Mrs. Wright without a little touch-up."

She hadn’t worn a trace of makeup. Not even lipstick.

Mary’s laugh was edged with sarcasm. "Really? That’s strange—because your skin looks exactly the same with or without it. Makeup, on you, actually lowers your beauty."

Sophia stirred her coffee with elegant indifference, smiling sweetly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Wright, for the compliment~"