Recaptured Dreams (4 page)

He plowed through the front doors and came to an immediate halt when he watched Sophia slide into the backseat of a stretch limo. The door slammed behind her, and the limo quickly pulled away from the curb. Xavier ran after it, waving his arms and running down the middle of the street. But the limo didn’t stop.
She
didn’t stop.

Out of breath, he collapsed onto the curb and hung his head. How in the hell had he let her get away? Again?

Did she really not remember him? He rubbed a tense hand over his face.

God, she had looked exquisite on the balcony. He had watched her for several minutes, enjoying the changes in her facial expressions as the breeze had blown the short black hair around her face. Her delicate features had been the same as he remembered them, as if she hadn’t aged since the last time he’d seen her. She had looked even more beautiful with the white light of the moon making her skin glow and her blue eyes big and captivating.

He’d smelled her fragrance as it danced with the wind. He’d indulged in deep breaths, inhaling a strong scent of vanilla mixed with a hint of cherry. It was then he’d realized how badly he’d wanted to touch and taste every inch of her. He’d felt the familiar tug in his chest, much different than the one he’d had the day she’d been taken away from him. Lord knew he didn’t want to feel that way again, and he’d already decided that since she was
his
Sophia, she wouldn’t be taken away this time. He’d found her, and he would keep her.

Glancing up and down the street, hoping she’d come back, Xavier realized how much distance had truly been put between them over the years. Oh, how he’d dreamed about seeing her again and doing all the things they should have done so long ago. Marriage, for one. He should have been married to Sophia, the woman who had captured his heart at seventeen. They should have spent the last decade raising children, being a family. Living out the dreams of the XS fashion line together. Traveling the world and spending every night in each other’s arms. But his dream had never come true. Instead, it had been ripped from his arms all those years ago. And now again tonight.

His heart had pined for Sophia even when he’d held others. She’d welcomed his kisses and touch, in return making him ache with her own. And yet she’d stood in front of him tonight claiming to not remember what they’d shared.

He suddenly felt angry and betrayed. After all that time…all his wishful thinking and hoping…she hadn’t spared him a single memory. Not a single thought during her privileged life. Not enough to even care or come back to him. Had he been that foolish all those years, really thinking she’d belonged to him? That she’d felt the same way he had? That he would be able to erase the heartache from previous years and replace it with their love?

Yes, he had been foolish. He hauled himself off the curb, the clawing in his chest suffocating him, and went home.

Chapter Three

“S
ERIOUSLY
, M
OTHER
,” S
OPHIA
S
AID
, “We don’t have to go over this again. I told you—I am going back to university this autumn to finish my last two courses no matter what you say.” She slammed down her glass and sloshed ice water onto the marble kitchen counter.

“I just wanted to talk about your future, dear.” Katherine Montel remained calm through her daughter’s rant. Her pen was perfectly poised over her ever-present date book, her expression smooth and solemn. Always the put-together perfect countess, wife of wealth and privilege.

Sophia snorted. “You have a pretty good idea what you want me to do with my future, don’t you, Mother?”

“Why, yes, I do.” She jotted something down and flipped the page. “Same as every other person who came before you.”

“I’m sorry, but you know I don’t want the life you have. Why is it so hard for you to see that?” Sophia groaned.

“I didn’t say I don’t see it.” Her mother’s gaze flitted to the herbs growing on the window sill. She drifted over to them, spraying their wilted leaves and dried roots with water. When done, she perched herself back on the chair, focusing again on her day-planner. “I’m saying I don’t agree. Does what I think not matter to you?”

“What about what I think? What about what matters to me?”

To Sophia’s shock, her mother set down her pen, folded her arms across the counter, and narrowed her eyes. “All right, then, what matters to you?”

Sophia rolled her eyes. Childish, yes, but they’d had this conversation numerous times, and Sophia was tired of telling her mother what she truly wanted. “My memory.”

Katherine’s hand waved absentmindedly in the air. It took her all of two seconds to focus back on the planner like her life depended on it. “Dear, you know the doctors said you may never get all of your memory back.”

“I know what they said. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t been willing to help me.”

Katherine’s head snapped up. “That’s a bold statement, young lady.”

Sophia straightened her shoulders. “How would you feel if you were in my shoes?” Sophia picked up the glass and took another long drink; it was cold as ice, same as the stare she shot her mother. “Would you do what everyone told you to do and act like a puppet, or would you do what you wanted to? Wait—don’t answer that. I’m afraid I already know the answer.”

“Do you? Is that what you think?”

Sophia’s jaw clenched.

“No matter what you think, dear,” Katherine said calmly, “I’ve never been a puppet. My decisions have mainly been my own. And your father’s, of course.”

“Then why are you treating me like one?”

Katherine smiled softly. “I’m not. You only think that because you are always fighting my suggestions. Why have you always been fighting me?”

“Because I feel like you’re blowing off my memory questions.”

“I’m not blowing anything off, whatever that means. I’m steering you in the proper direction. Isn’t that a mother’s job?”

Sophia dropped her empty glass in the sink, surprised it didn’t shatter on impact. “Would you have been like this with Connor?”

Katherine’s perfectly arched brow drew together. “I don’t think your brother has anything to do with this.”

“Yes, he does. If he was alive and lost his memory, would you be pushy like this with him, or would you give him what he wanted?”

“Boys are different—”

“No, they aren’t.” Sophia balled her hands into fists at her sides. “Father never treated us differently, but you did. I don’t need to be coddled and primed and shielded. Don’t—” Sophia held up her hand when Katherine inhaled, about to interrupt. “Don’t you think I can’t see it? You
are
protecting me, Mother. From what, I don’t know. But I’m not stupid.”

“No, what I do is a matter of love and the basics of raising a child to achieve her fullest potential. That’s what all parents do. And no matter what you claim, I’ve tried to help—”

“You’ve never tried to help me understand the bareness. You’ve never gone out of your way to help me recover. You’ve spent the last third of my life preening me to be just like you.”

“Listen, dear,” Katherine said as she crossed the kitchen to Sophia. “I really am trying to help you.” She touched Sophia’s arm.

“I only want to be
me.
To know who I was.”

“Dear, you
are
you. I’m trying to make you a better you by helping you build your future.”

“I shall figure out what to do with my life on my time,” Sophia said as she wiggled her arm from her mother’s touch. “The last thing I need is you pushing me further into a future I don’t want.”

“I’m your mother,” Katherine said, sounding upset herself. “It’s my job—”

“No,” Sophia said, trying to calm down. “Your job has been to gallivant around to charity events and parties in order to keep a good, upstanding name. Your job has been to berate me about what you think is best for my future. Your job has been to forget about my past when I so desperately want to remember it!”

“I’m sorry.” Katherine reached out to Sophia again. “It’s just that I have certain duties and responsibilities…” She paused as she wrapped her arms around Sophia. “Believe it or not, I do want you to be happy.”

Sophia tugged away from her mother and rubbed her eyes, fighting to keep tears at bay.

“You don’t understand,” she said quietly. “You’ll never understand.”

Without sparing her mother a glance, Sophia hurried out of the kitchen.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Anne Marie asked as she walked into Sophia’s bedroom closet. Sophia had her luggage strewn about the floor and was desperately yanking things from the racks, tossing them haphazardly into the waiting suitcases.

“Holiday,” Sophia grumbled as she pushed the hair from her face. “Sometimes one just needs to get away.” America sounded like a good place all of a sudden. Maybe she could track down Xavier and have her way with him. One-night stands weren’t her kind of thing, but, then again, she’d never quivered from the inside-out just being in a man’s arms before either. She wanted him. Her body was certainly trying to tell her something about him, and she admitted that finding out what it was wouldn’t be a laborious thing. Actually, it would be quite fun.

She shook her head. Too much wishful thinking and not enough serious planning. Bad idea.

Anne Marie took Sophia’s hand and drew her from the walk-in. “Did you fight with your mum again?”

Sophia stopped midstride. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” Anne Marie replied. “These arguments seem to be never-ending. I’m sorry she keeps trying to shove a fairy tale down your throat. I know that’s not you.”

Sophia turned back to the closet and snatched up some shoes from the floor. She dumped them with the rest of her things. “Then why is that so difficult for Mother to see?”

“I don’t know. What has she done now?”

“Well,” Sophia huffed as she leaned against the doorway, “she wants me to quit uni to date and, no doubt, marry some rich son of a friend of hers. Then she said I don’t get out enough and don’t attend enough ‘functions’ important to the family name and that I don’t seem to recall what my ‘duties’ are.” Sophia rolled her eyes as she walked to her bed and dropped down on silk golden duvet. “This isn’t the eighteen hundreds, for heaven’s sake. Mother makes it seem like being a countess is
such
a big deal. It’s her whole life, but that’s not me.” She raised her voice as she rose up. “I am not now, nor shall I ever be, like her.”

Anne Marie sat beside Sophia and reached out for her friend’s hand.

“Listen,” she said in a low, soothing voice. “I’m sorry you fought with your mum again. I’m sorry she makes you feel this way. But remember what I have always told you.” Anne Marie touched the end of Sophia’s nose with her fingertip. “You can only do what makes you happy and no one else. And I shall always be here if you need me.”

Sophia cocked her head and looked at the woman who had been her friend since her first year at university. Sophia had been twenty-one at the time, and Anne Marie had been barely eighteen. While Sophia had struggled her way through one class at a time, Anne Marie had always been there, supporting and encouraging. A true friend who always remained by Sophia’s side.

“It’s just been getting more and more difficult with Mother the older I get. I don’t know what the deal is: her or me?”

“Both, I think,” Anne Marie said matter-of-factly. “Don’t be angry; it’s just what I see. You just want to find the missing pieces of your life. There is no way easy way to do that. Your mum, on the other hand—” Anne Marie waved her hand in the air and rolled her eyes “—is…special. Just be true to yourself, Sophia. That’s all you can do.”

Sophia’s face twisted with sadness. “You’re right, of course. You always are.” She gave a hesitant smile. “But these last few years have been the most difficult.”

Anne Marie slid an arm around her. “You’re the only one she has left, Sophia.”

Tears pricked the back of Sophia’s eyes at the thought of her younger brother, Connor. “Do you think it would be different if he was alive?” Her voice cracked.