Recaptured Dreams (8 page)

It amazed her how much money had been put into the event just to get people to buy auction items. One would think they could have saved needed funds by skipping the dinner seduction and moving right to the charity’s purpose. Yet another aspect of her mother’s world riddled in hypocrisy.

The jazz band began to play, and Sophia was restless. She downed her fourth glass of wine to settle the annoyance building within her. Her head swam, but at least she was more relaxed and able to handle any more comments from her family.

“How long before the auction starts?” Sophia asked her mother. It was the only reason she’d faced the torture of her grandmother’s verbal assault, after all. Sometimes designers brought one-of-a-kind items to those auctions.

“Not long now.”

A masculine hand appeared in front of her face. “May I have this dance?”

Sophia craned her neck to see Evan standing next to her, another award-winning smile on his face. She glanced around the table, and everyone else was smiling too. Except Anne Marie. Anne Marie shook her head as if to say, “You don’t have to,” but Sophia knew she did.

Fantasies of Xavier aside, dancing with someone her family approved of would hopefully put her back on the path they thought she needed to be. And she needed her family to see that she could make them proud. She would. Even if she died inside while doing it.

She slipped her hand into Evan’s, ignoring the formation of ice in her veins. “I’d love to.”

Chapter Six

X
AVIER
N
URSED
H
IS
W
INE
, not enjoying the sting of its sweet taste as it slid down his throat. Dinner had been bland. He carried on the perfunctory conversations that were expected of him, but it felt like he was talking to stick figures, and his headache hadn’t faded.

The night crawled by, and glancing at his watch only made time go slower. Forget the dinner, forget the dancing; Xavier just wanted to announce the special piece he’d donated for the line and get the hell out of there.

The place oozed money. He’d spent a good portion of his night batting away the single heiresses and well-to-dos. One rather pushy middle-aged woman had had enough nerve to slip him a room key card with explicit instructions. If that was proper, he was the pope.

Xavier had the need to go home and wash his hands—and the rest of his body. He needed to get the stickiness of bored, rich single women out of his favorite gray suit.

He slid further down in his seat, loosened his tie, closed his eyes, and pictured her.

Sophia.

The woman who made all these other women look like paupers. Even with her money and family history, Sophia—the Sophia he’d known, anyway—was well-rounded in a way money couldn’t buy. The type who thought about others before herself. The type who knew what it meant to be a good friend. Sophia was just…good. That’s what Xavier remembered the most.

Well, that and her scent. Her laugh. And her smile. Actually, he remembered everything like it was yesterday. And he still wanted to be in her arms tomorrow. Or, better yet, tonight—and every night thereafter. His memories were so cruel, taunting him with his angel who had eluded him over the years.

Sophia.

With that, he opened his eyes to the woman of his dreams…out on the dance floor…with someone else.

Xavier’s hands instantly clenched into fists. It was all he could do to remain in his seat and not go knock out the besotted man’s front teeth. And the man
was
besotted.

The stranger was tall and wearing an expensive silk suit. His features were sharp with focused, predator eyes and a long nose perfect for breaking. He held Sophia in a close embrace during an all-too-slow dance, and his hand had inched down to a dangerous place, holding a grip on her backside. The beautiful gold fabric of Sophia’s dressed crinkled and protested with each ugly wiggle of his fingers.

Xavier held his breath and just watched.

Watched his dream float across the dance floor in another’s man arms. Watched her feet sweep in perfect harmony with his. Watched her eyes gleam a glorious blue under the lights.

And he watched her laugh, which forced him to bite his lip to keep from growling. Was she actually enjoying herself? Did she not even think about Xavier or the night before? Surely not if she was tucked so snugly into this other man’s arms. Xavier fought the urge to pound on the linen-covered table and shook his throbbing head. Maybe Bryant was more right than he’d thought. With a deep exhale, Xavier acknowledged that
that,
whoever that woman was, was not his Sophia. Not even close.

He jolted to his feet and strode straight to the men’s room. He splashed cold water on his face and stared at his reflection. His eyes were hooded and dark, defeat marring his features.

Get yourself together! You were wrong. It’s not her.

Was his instinct really that off? Had he spent so many years searching that he truly couldn’t tell the difference between his soul mate and a total stranger?

No.

No way. It was her. No one had eyes like that. Eyes as pure as the sky on a fresh, wintery morning. Ones that sucked him in and refused to let go. No one had her touch. Featherlight and warm. A touch that sizzled his insides and brought him to his knees.

And no one had that pure, simple, cherry-vanilla scent. The sweetness that was only her, like she was a dessert made just for him. To lick, nibble, and enjoy.

It was her.

He drew back and slammed a closed fist on the porcelain sink. The base cracked and tore from the wall, and Xavier jolted to his full height. He would go out to the dance floor right then and find out. If it was her, he would tear her away from the man and hold her himself. Forever.

Storming out of the bathroom, a new resolve propelling him forward, he heard the most inconvenient sound. The charity staff was starting the auction and calling out his name.

He’d waited for Sophia for ten years—five more minutes wouldn’t kill him. Hopefully.

As he strode to the front of the room, Xavier kept a keen eye on Sophia, making certain to see her reaction to his announced name. Her face darkened twelve shades as she peeled herself off the man with the roaming hands and skittered away from him, eyes wide as though he’d bitten her—Xavier wouldn’t have been surprised if he had. Her gaze locked on Xavier’s and held as he continued his march onstage. Smoothing down her hair, her eyes fluttered around as her lips moved quickly to the man by her side.

Xavier stomped onto the stage, impatient and wanting nothing more than to grab Sophia and haul her out with him. He would, too…after he’d announced his special design for the show. He would make sure she was truly his Sophia. And if she was, he wasn’t leaving without her. Not this time.

She appeared to watch him carefully, bumping into someone on the way back to her seat because her eyes wouldn’t leave his. And was she shaking? Her hands flittered around her dress as she scurried to her table, where three others were seated.

His heart stopped as any doubt he’d had about Sophia disintegrated.

The cold stare of Sophia’s mother made ice clamp down on the back of his neck. He’d remember that face—that look—anywhere. The last time he’d seen it was five years earlier when he’d gone to the woman’s house pleading to know where Sophia was. Right before she’d slammed the solid oak door in his face.

And the older, pinched-face woman sitting next to Sophia’s mother shot daggers as well. She’d personally visited him in America when his fashion line began to take off. She apparently hadn’t liked all the contact he’d attempted to make with her granddaughter. She’d even brought him a very official cease-and-desist letter. According to the sour woman, he’d been interfering with Sophia’s life, and the family demanded it stopped.

Because of the repercussions she had said he would face, he’d stopped. After all, he didn’t want to have the business he’d built for Sophia taken away from him by the very people she called family. Fighting with the Montels would have done no more than rack up monstrous legal bills and leave him feeling empty. Those two women were steadfast in their determination to keep Xavier away from Sophia, and he knew he couldn’t move a mountain. He’d have to make the mountain move itself.

Which is what he’d done in the years since seeing Sophia’s grandmother. He’d kept searching—albeit quietly—in the hope that one day his fashion line would draw Sophia to
him
.

And it had. Now he had to do something to get Sophia away from her evil relatives long enough to talk to her. Long enough to explain, to ask if she remembered him…and what they had created.

Xavier’s pulse sped up with that thought, and he wondered why, then, she hadn’t contacted
him
when she’d been able? Why hadn’t she reached out?

He would find the answers. And he would somehow get past the wicked glares of Sophia’s family to do it.

Sophia’s heart was in her throat, and she couldn’t get her hands to quit shaking. After practically falling on her face when she’d bumped into someone, she had straightened her shoulders and made the final steps to her table. Anne Marie’s bright, mischievous smile had almost made Sophia laugh. Almost. Then she’d looked at her mother and grandmother.

Their postures had been straight, their lips forming thin, prominent frowns. Elise had glanced at Xavier and then pointed a wrinkled finger to a seat. “Sit,” she’d commanded.

Sophia had sat.

And now she couldn’t sit still, not with him staring at her and making her insides twist and turn like a tornado in her stomach. Thank God her mother and grandmother had turned around in their seats to face the auction. At least they weren’t giving her the death stare anymore; although Sophia was pretty sure both sets of their eyes were pinning Xavier where he stood.

Why did they dislike him so much? And why were they so displeased with her?

“Oh my God,” Sophia whispered to Anne Marie as she gripped the linen napkin in her hand. “I can’t believe Xavier’s here.” The name rolled off Sophia’s tongue like forbidden fruit and sent a chill down her back.

Anne Marie leaned close to Sophia and raised a perfectly groomed brow. “I knew this night would be entertaining.”

Sophia’s mouth went dry.

“He looks upset,” Anne Marie commented.

Sophia nodded in agreement as she loosened the hold on her napkin, allowing color to return to her white knuckles.

Who could blame him if he was upset? His eyes, cold yet caring, locked on her like there wasn’t another soul in the room. He was no doubt confused about the first time they’d met. Heavens, Sophia was still beside herself. Which made that twitch in her stomach that much harder to deal with.

What was it about his eyes? Their blue depths tugged her down, and before she could swim for safety, they drowned her. She could stare at him forever. That pull, deep in her chest, made her want to jump out of her seat and run over to him again. To apologize for the night before. To wipe the frown off his face and kiss him until he smiled.

God. What had gotten into her?

Then he spoke. She closed her eyes.

“I’d like to welcome everyone to the charity auction tonight.” His voice cracked, not nearly as confident as the previous evening. “It’s a great pleasure for XS to bring a one-of-kind piece to the show.”

His tone, while hesitant, still hummed along her skin like a thousand little vibrations. Sophia opened her eyes to keep from falling out of her seat.

Xavier paced the stage, his steps quick, his movements jerky. “Charity is an important aspect of the XS mission, and this charity, Fortune for Future, is exactly the type of giving back our company strives to do. Those who are less fortunate than us—than you—deserve the chance for an education, for learning, to know that there is more to this world than poverty and the struggles that come with it.”

Sophia twisted her hands in her lap. There was a hard truth in his words. A truth she wondered if half the room understood or cared about.

“XS has always wanted to give back. To the community, the grass roots, if you will. It is the children that will mold our future.” He frowned briefly. “This organization’s main goal is to take those who are underprivileged and give them the education and life skills needed to survive in this world. I, for one, wish I would have had such an organization growing up back home. Feeling as though you can make a difference in the world—just a small difference—makes you feel very special. And that’s what I ask of all of you.”