The Billionaire's Runaway Bride (4 page)

One time, she’d been about twelve at the time, she supposed, Sophie had been so devastated by her father’s cruel words about her red hair that she’d snuck upstairs to her room and cut it short. When she’d appeared at the dinner table that night, her father had almost been apoplectic at her appearance and his words became even more cruel, demanding to know the man she was trying to sleep with and asking her why she was such a slut. Since Sophie had barely been a pre-teen at the time, she had been devastated, horrified at the questions he was asking of her, some of which she hadn’t really understood.

That was the day she’d started hiding her hair in a braid, pinned to her head. It seemed to pacify him somewhat, when he didn’t have so much of her hair to view. Initially it had been difficult since she had thick, titian hair that eventually grew down her back in springing curls. But she’d learned to use products that would smooth out the fly away strands and hide the color as much as possible.

The morning of the funeral, she’d considered leaving her hair down but years of the habit had her pulling it back and capturing it in the normal fashion although she didn’t bother to smooth it as much as she used to.

It was odd but that afternoon, after the reading of the will which told her that Jason Randal was now the executor of her father’s will, Edward Brandon never allowing a woman to have control of his assets, that she’d finally let her hair down.

She’d been in the solarium and the pins had ached. The tension of the morning had probably made things worse, she thought. Thinking she was alone, she pulled the pins out as she sat in the afternoon sunshine, then let her fingers play with the curls as she considered what she was going to do with the rest of her life. She had no money and even the house she’d lived in since she was born was now controlled by a man she’d only met twice before, once at a dinner party she’d attended with her father and again that morning.

Both times had really shocked her. All her life, she’d listened to her father tell her that she was promiscuous. Never in her life had she really looked at a man and had sexual thoughts until Jason Randal had entered her life. The first time, she’d seen him dancing with a woman across the room and her eyes had been drawn to him for the rest of the evening. Despite the fact that he kept catching her watching him, Sophie was unable to stop looking for him through the crowd. When he asked her to dance later that evening, she had been floating on air. He was so tall and muscular and his smile melted her heart, sending butterflies fluttering in her stomach. He had danced with her, holding her small hand in his and made her laugh and feel feminine and amusing.

The dance had ended too soon and Jason had done the gentlemanly thing and brought her back to her father’s side. Edward hadn’t even acknowledged her but had instantly started discussing the latest business deal they were working on together between their companies. She didn’t mind though. It gave her more time to listen to his deep voice that felt like velvet smoothing across her skin. She loved the sound and stared up at him with undisguised fascination.

The second time she’d seen him had been after her father’s funeral. He’d come back to the house along with the rest of the guests and had helped her make sure the reception moved smoothly. Sophie suspected that he thought she would be devastated. But years of being drilled in her hostessing duties had enabled her to move about the room, ensuring that the catering staff had all the glasses filled, the food was constantly replenished and that the coats were removed to the upstairs nicely. It wasn’t until the reception was almost over that he caught her arm and pulled her to the side. “You’re supposed to let others wait on you, Sophie. Not the other way around,” he’d explained. “Are you okay?”

The concern in his eyes flustered her and all she could do was nod her head in response. She tried to move away to check on the kitchen but he held her there, one hand at the small of her back as he pulled her through the rooms, talking with the guests and introducing her to several of her father’s acquaintances. She was too shy that afternoon to talk but for the first time, she felt like she was a part of the party.

Her father’s solicitor read the will immediately after the reception and that was when Sophie’s sense of freedom disappeared. As the bespectacled, stern man read the words of her father, she shrunk more and more into the large leather chair, wishing she could just fade into the woodwork again.

It was humiliating. Everything, all her father’s money and assets were hers but she had to marry in order to use any of it. And even then, the assets would only be transferred to her husband. She would never see any of it. If she didn’t marry within the year, all of it would convert to a charity designated by her father.

She pushed the memories aside and came back to the present, not wanting to remember how gullible she’d been that day. It was too painful. Sophie groaned at her appearance, smoothing down the black, crepe dress. She added a set of pearls to offset some of the blackness but it didn’t help her complexion which looked pale and drawn.

Rubbing her hand over her hair, she considered letting her hair loose, just to add some color to her appearance but then thought against the idea. Too many years of hurtful comments about her hair color wouldn’t allow her to display it. Maybe she could color it, she thought. Perhaps a soft brown? Would it help her? The idea had appeal and she pushed it to the back of her mind to consider later.

Walking down the stairs, she braced herself for more of her stepmother and stepsister’s comments about her appearance. But the only person she found in the sitting room where Higgins directed her was Jason. He was leaning against the mantle, obviously waiting for her to enter.

“Good evening, Jason,” she said formally, her breath catching in her throat as she took in how handsome he looked in his tuxedo.

“Why so formal?” he asked, walking over to the table containing drinks and poured her a glass of sherry.

She shrugged her shoulders slightly. “It just seemed appropriate.”

He walked over to stand in front of her but didn’t hand the crystal glass to her. “Appropriate would be this,” he said and bent down to kiss her gently. He didn’t wait for her to respond though. He pulled back quickly and handed her the small glass of sherry.

Sophie had no choice but to accept the glass but her hands shook as their fingers touched and she glanced quickly up at him to see if he noticed. Of course he did and she gritted her teeth, determined to hide her body’s reaction to him somehow.

Walking quickly away, she made it to one of the velvet sofas and sank gratefully onto the edge, perched apprehensively as she watched him move back to the mantle. “What is tonight’s event?”

“We’re invited to Dorothy McCay’s house for dinner.”

“Just the two of us?” she asked hopefully.

“No. I don’t believe Dorothy has ever had an intimate dinner gathering. I expect there will be several other people in attendance tonight.”

Sophie didn’t respond but looked down at her glass. She took a tentative sip, wondering if she still hated sherry as much as she used to. Smothering her grimace at the sweet wine, she turned away and started walking around the room, touching a statue, looking at a painting but not really seeing anything. She could feel Jason’s eyes on her and it made her nervous.

“What have you been up to lately?” she asked, just to break the silence.

“Do you really care?” he asked, back to leaning against the mantle again as he watched her prowl the room, picking up small knick-knacks placed on the tables.

Sophie’s eyes snapped up to his. “Of course,” she said. “I’ve always been fascinated by what you do. I read the article in the paper just last week about how there is a potential takeover that might turn hostile. Why is that?”

She noticed the pleased look in his eyes and wondered about it. Did he really think she was so self-centered that she wouldn’t care about what he did during the day? She had constantly scoured the newspapers each day in an effort to find out what his work. Earlier it had been her feeble attempt to engage him in conversation at dinner but over the then lately, not being around him for so long and aching with the need to be near him but denying herself, it had been just her small, pathetic way to stay close to him in some way.

“Because they think they are going to lose control of their company.”

“But, isn’t that what usually happens? Didn’t they approach you to suggest the sale in the first place?” She felt a little silly when he raised his eyebrow at her comment.

“You surprise me, Sophie. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually do care.”

Sophie flushed under his cynical gaze. “Just because I’m not qualified to actually do the work, that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in business,” she asserted.

“Why do you think you’re not qualified?” he asked softly.

Sophie turned her back on him, feeling hurt that he would force her to enumerate her faults. “You know I’m not very business oriented,” she said.

“That’s not what your boss told me,” he said.

Sophie glanced back at him. His face looked grim and she could see a vein on his forehead throb slightly. Was he actually angry at the mention of Harry Smith? She had started working for him a week after she’d left Jason’s house. Over the past several months, she’d offered several suggestions for improving the growth of his landscaping company. “Really?” she said, a small smile on her face. “What did he say?”

Jason walked over to stand in front of her. “That you’d helped him increase the business by almost ten percent over the last three months. That he didn’t think you would really resign without notice. And I can tell you he was pretty upset when I reinforced your resignation with the information that I was your husband.”

Sophie felt slightly winded with his words but she focused on the one thing she could hold onto. “Ten percent?” she parroted. “That’s great. I’m glad for Harry. He’s a good man.”

Jason just looked down at her, the nerve was now very visible and very angry looking. “I think we should leave now,” he finally said, walking away from her. She flinched when he slammed his glass down on one of the wooden tables as he passed.

Sophie was glad for the breathing space and followed him out to the hallway where Higgins already had their coats ready. Jason took hers from the butler and helped her into it and Sophie felt his warm hands close over her shoulders, his grip firm before he let his hands drop. She looked up into his eyes, confused since he’d never touched her outside the bedroom before.

“Ready to leave?” he asked over her shoulder, his voice husky and very close to her ear.

Sophie was so aware of him, of his heat radiating through her clothes and his strong muscular body behind hers, all she could do was nod in the affirmative.

He ushered her out of the house and into the waiting car.

The lights were bright at Dorothy McCay’s house. It was an imposing mansion in the heart of London and there were already several people heading towards the entrance. Sophie and Jason followed a line of approximately ten other people before greeting their hostess.

“Goodness!” Dorothy exclaimed as soon as she saw Sophie. “We thought you had fallen off the face of the earth, dear,” she said, air kissing Sophie’s cheeks. Dorothy was in her late forties but looked to be much younger. Probably due to several surgeon’s talents, Sophie thought to herself as she took in the perfectly made up face and glamorous red dress that hugged her body and all its flattering angles.

“It is good to see you again, Dorothy,” Sophie said insincerely. Sophie didn’t really dislike Dorothy. The widow had never been overtly cruel to her. But Sophie always suspected that Dorothy wanted husband number four and looked to Jason to fill that position.

“And you! We were so delighted when we heard that you would be attending our little get together tonight. Jason must be thrilled that you’re rejoining circulation,” she said and immediately turned to greet the next couple.

Sophie and Jason moved off to speak with the other guests. It was more appropriate to say that Jason moved off and guided Sophie with him. He always tried to include her in the conversations, but Sophie was usually too intimidated to speak. It was the same tonight. While she sipped her wine, Sophie listened intently to the conversation Jason was having with another man about some sort of business deal they were having. She suspected that there were subtle undertones to each of the sentences but she didn’t understand them at all. A few minutes later, Jason moved off to the next group of people but Sophie stopped him.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

Jason looked down at her, taking a sip of bourbon. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t even pretend disinterest this time. She was too curious. “I mean, there seemed to be much more going on than a casual conversation about fishing between the two of you back there.”

“Do you think so?” he asked, looking down into her blue eyes. “What makes you say that?”

Sophie was exasperated. “Look Jason, if you don’t want to tell me about what is going on, that is fine with me. But why did you drag me back here? It certainly couldn’t be to decorate your arm.”

“Why not?”

Sophie sensed his confusion although they appeared to the rest of the room as if they were just having a small conversation between husband and wife. She smiled up at him to increase that perception. “Because I’m not the raving beauty that could do the trick,” she replied, wishing it wasn’t true.