She turned to face him. “It’s important for me to find a way to be on my feet. There are people who already think I’m a gold-digger, and I don’t want to give them any more reason to believe that.”
“If you want to work, you can. There are other companies out there.”
What he said made perfect sense. And she didn’t want any unnecessary ugliness in their lives. “Okay.” She faced forward again, and he resumed the combing. “You’re surprisingly patient.”
“You mean the hair?”
“Mm-hmm. Most people would’ve yanked on it at least once by now.”
“It takes as long as it takes. Hurrying through would only make things worse.” Then he added, “I recommend starting at UCLA next semester.”
“UCLA? I’m pretty sure I’ve missed the deadline for transfer.”
“It can be arranged,” he said calmly. “I want you to finish your college education and think about your second dream.”
“Dane, I appreciate the gesture. But I don’t want you calling in favors on my behalf.”
“Don’t worry. One, I want to, and two, it’ll be for multiple good causes.” He gave her a light swat on the rear. “Now stop arguing. You’ll never find out what you want to do with rest of your life if you don’t expose yourself to different things. You didn’t dream of becoming some ornery executive’s assistant when you were five.”
“I didn’t dream of being with you like this when I was that age either, but here we are.” The mild tingling on her bottom was more distracting than it should have been.
“Yes, here we are.” Dropping the comb on the sheet, he pressed his lips against her nape and breathed her in. “Sophia, having you finish school would make me feel better. For any number of reasons.”
His large hands flexed around her waist. It’s really generous and considerate of him, she thought as she rolled over. She should be thrilled to be able to continue her education.
But somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was preparing her for a future without him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sophia woke the next morning to find Dane’s side of the bed empty and cool. She dragged herself to the kitchen in a robe and discovered Dane in his suit.
He pushed a cup of tea her way, then took a long swallow of his coffee. “Yes, I need to go to the office. Some things just won’t wait.” He finished his coffee and kissed Sophia on the forehead.
“When are you going to be home?”
“Definitely by dinner, if not sooner. There’s yogurt and fruit in the fridge. You’ll want something more substantial for lunch, so call the concierge. Here’s the number.” He handed her a card.
Just as he was about to go, she grabbed the lapel of his suit and kissed him hard on the mouth. His eyes darkened.
“See you this evening,” she said, her breath fanning against his lips.
“Count on it.”
After he left, she ate her yogurt and changed into in a fitted t-shirt with a red “Vincero!” across the chest. It was funny how domestic the morning scene had been. But it didn’t feel as awkward or…staged as when she’d been in Salazar’s home. And she liked it that there weren’t staff members tripping over each other to cater to her every whim. Although there was that concierge service.
Shaking her head, she settled down on the bed with her phone to read a suspense novel she’d bought before fleeing Seattle. As she thumbed through it, her phone rang. Libby’s face popped up on the screen, her tongue sticking out. With a small grin, Sophia picked it up.
“So you are still alive! I called for your birthday, but you never got back to me. I would’ve called again, but then I had to travel to our D.C. office. I seriously thought you died or something.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Sophia cringed. She’d refused to check voice mails or texts after she’d turned on her phone, in case George tried to contact her again. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that Libby might have been trying to get in touch.
“And I can’t believe you got invited to Mark Pryce’s wedding and danced with Justin Sterling and didn’t tell me!”
Geez, news travels fast. “How did you know?”
“Gossip sites. Officially there was no media there, but you know how it is with photographers these days and their telephoto lenses. Jerks.”
“They aren’t that bad,” Sophia said, although she’d hated them with a passion when they’d published unflattering competition pictures of her. No one needed to know what she looked like in the middle of a triple lutz.