He deserved more than this.
“I think you should leave,” he said.
“I’m going,” she said, her expression dark. She paused as his hand rested on the doorknob. “Don’t talk to me again. We’re going to destroy you guys.”
He didn’t even dignify it with a response. He just let her out into the hallway and shut the door behind her.
He went to the minifridge, pulling out a few of the tiny bottles: vodka, whiskey, scotch. He then proceeded to open and drain each one.
Damn her. He hadn’t even meant those things, had he?
Why couldn’t he think when it came to Sophie?
And what was he going to do now?
5
“HOW’S THE WORK COMING?” Sophie’s mother said, peeking her head into the living room.
Sophie gritted her teeth, her grip on her wooden pencil as tight as an iron vise. “Mom…”
Her mother frowned. “I waited a whole hour before I asked.”
“You’re not helping,” Sophie said in a low voice. “It’s fine. I’m doing everything I can. Please keep working on those prototypes, okay? And tell Lydia I want to talk to her about the packaging mock-ups.”
“You don’t have to be so cranky about the whole thing,” her mother responded in a sulky voice.
Sophie sighed, rubbing both hands over her face. Her mother really hadn’t done anything to deserve Sophie’s ire; Sophie certainly did not have cause to be acting the way she was. The “rejuvenating” weekend her mother had suggested she take had gone completely to hell, thanks to her confrontation with Mark. She’d thrown herself at him.
He’d tossed her back, roughly.
What you’re doing is using me to blow off steam. You don’t want anything more from me than a lay.
The comments still haunted her—probably because of the element of truth in them.
She wanted more from him than sex, she thought. Admittedly, they couldn’t have anything more than sex. Not with the things they wanted, which happened to be in direct competition with each other. She knew it had been crazy, to think they could keep their business and personal lives separate. But he’d felt so damned good…
And it hadn’t just been the sex. When he’d called her on the phone, she’d felt as if they were truly getting to know each other. If it hadn’t been for the Marion & Co. nonsense…If it weren’t for the fact that he worked for her mother’s sworn enemy, a big conglomerate that was huge and soulless and the same as all the other corporations Sophie had ever worked for…
If only. Sophie huffed, mocking herself mentally. Her life was plagued with vague potentials, bright “what-might-have-beens,” and some harsh realities.
Lydia walked in, carrying some cardboard boxes and plastic containers in a small basket. “Here are those mock-ups,” she said, tossing the basket on the coffee table next to Sophie’s laptop. She sounded snarky, too. Apparently there was something in the water.
Sophie picked up the first box. “I thought we decided on royal-purple, midnight-blue, with silver lettering. Why is this gold?”
Lydia made a face. “Silver is too old. Gold looks better—classier.”
“Screen goddesses, remember?” Sophie said. “Silver screen.”
“Silver hair,” Lydia countered. “Damn it, why don’t you let me do what I do? I’m the designer. You’re not.”
Sophie bit her lip. Why was everyone snapping at her lately? “What the hell is your problem, Lydia?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Because I’m really close to the edge, and I don’t need this right now.”
“None of us needs it,” Lydia snapped. “You’re not the only one under pressure!”
This again. If Lydia kept pushing that point, they wouldn’t get anywhere. Sophie couldn’t fix the thing with Mark—that was a wash, a devastating disaster that had gone past the point of no return. But she couldn’t afford to have her sister hating her, too. Especially not when her sister was also the head graphic designer for their family company and a key part of their future success.
“Come on,” Sophie said, rising from the couch. “We’re getting a coffee.”
Lydia looked mutinous for a moment, then nodded. Sophie drove them to the local coffee shop, ordering the two of them some frothy, chocolate-and-caramel latte drinks with plenty of whipped cream. She was gratified to see Lydia smile when she carried the drinks over.
“I figure we could use the rush,” Sophie said, putting Lydia’s drink in front of her and settling down at the table. “So why don’t you tell me what’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this. Normally you define unflappable. Lately…”
“I know. Lately, it’s been like PMS four weeks a month,” Lydia admitted, using a finger to scoop up some of the whipped cream. “I just wish this wasn’t so damned important. I feel like our whole life is on the line every time I go to the office.”
Sophie sighed. “Yeah. I know that one.”
“And it doesn’t help that Mom looks at you as the beall, end-all,” Lydia said. “She means well, but she treats me like a flunky, Sophie. It’s like I’m not smart enough, or something. I’m barely good enough to be your helper, and I have to take all my cues from you.” Lydia’s expression of unhappiness tore at Sophie’s heart. “I know you guys might not see it, but I’m a damned fine graphic designer. Even though I haven’t been out of school for very long, I could be making a good living if I weren’t so committed to helping Mom out.”
“I believe it,” Sophie said.
“But Mom doesn’t.” Lydia took a long sip of her coffee. “She thinks I’m merely along for the ride. Do you know how hard it is, to always keep proving yourself—and to always come up short?”
“She doesn’t mean it,” Sophie defended. “You know what she’s like. She’s right-brained. Scientific.”
“Yeah, I do,” Lydia said. “I also know that it’s an excuse. But lately, she’s gotten so focused on the business and being successful and getting revenge on Trimera, she doesn’t take time to notice what it actually does to the people around her.”
Sophie grimaced, taking a long sip of her sugary drink to hide her expression of chagrin. Was that what had happened, with her and Mark? Was she so intent on the business side that she’d deliberately chosen to ignore any possibility of a relationship?
Was that what he was so upset about?
“You’re getting that way, too,” Lydia pointed out. “I know how hard you’ve been working on all of this.”
“Thanks,” Sophie said. “It’s not easy.”
“Yeah, but you realize you’re making it even harder, don’t you?” Lydia rolled her eyes. “You’re making this a life-or-death struggle. You’re making everything much more meaningful and complicated than it needs to be.”
Sophie blinked. “It’s not only about the business,” she protested. “It’s like you said. I’m committed to the family. I mean, we can’t let Mom flounder, can we?”
Lydia looked contemplative. “I’m not saying we leave Mom to fend for herself,” she replied. “But…this is going beyond helping Mom, or being committed to the family company. You’re in this for revenge. And you’re in this to prove something.”
Sophie didn’t know what to say to that.
“I’ve let Mom down tons,” Lydia said with a wan smile. “So it’s not as hard on me. But you’ve always been perfect. So it’s harder on you. It probably never even occurred to you to tell Mom, ‘This is making me crazy. I can only do so much, and at the end of the day, I’ll have done the best I can and we’ll all have to be okay with that.’ Would you say that?”
Sophie winced. “Probably not.”
“I rest my case.” Lydia took a long last sip of her drink, sighing with happiness. “Thanks for this. Not just the sugar and caffeine—although they help—but for talking to me.” She looked at Sophie with some regret. “I was ready to tell Mom, and you, that I was going to walk.”
Sophie cringed. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”
“It takes talking. It’s more than getting the work done—it’s about building understanding,” Lydia said, more sage than her twenty-eight years would’ve suggested. “Mom gets so into the science, and you get so into the business, that sometimes you forget what it’s really about.”
“Which would be…?” Sophie prompted.
Lydia rolled her eyes. “People,” she answered, as if it were patently obvious. Which, actually, it was, now that Sophie thought about it. “Trimera screwed up by not paying attention to the people portion of the program. They thought it was all numbers. You got it.” She nodded. “Just don’t forget that there are other people than clients and customers, okay?”
Sophie nodded, chastised. She thought about Lydia’s remark, all the way home.
She and Mark had talked, but it had never been about anything that involved the two of them. They’d covered superficial stuff, their likes and dislikes, their quirks. They’d gone a bit deeper and talked about their dreams. Sophie had always wanted to work for herself, maybe as a marketing consultant. Mark had revealed his past as a model—something that had not surprised her—and then had revealed that he’d always wanted to make it to vice president of marketing. He wanted to show people that he was more than a pretty face.