Infatuated: Mafia Romance

VII

VII.

A sterling-silver tray was delivered to the girls the next morning. Atop it was an assortment of breakfast beverages and Lacy and Maeve accepted their espresso con pannas graciously, praising Henley for his promptness. Sophia sipped at her own fluffy cappuccino. Following the visit, she had remained rather lifeless, the topic of dessert and aperitif selections of little interest to her.

"I wish that my father would throw me a grand bash on my twenty-second birthday!" Lacy wailed, whipped cream upon her lips.

Maeve plucked a strawberry tart from a dish in front of her and placed it within her mouth. "Ooh, how delicious! Sophia, why don't you try this one."

Henley had orchestrated the food samplings rather taxingly and Sophia felt a large sense of guilt at her inattention. "Perhaps I will when my stomach settles. I am feeling a bit ill," she digressed.

"That blushed wine must have given you a hangover," Maeve told her, finishing the tart and reaching for another.

Sophia smiled lightly; for it served as an appropriate absolution. "We could retire back to the flat early," she said, taking another sip from her beverage.

"But what about our plans of outfit shopping!" Lacy squealed.

"Those preparations could easily be postponed until next weekend," Maeve stated, "Besides, Giovanni may want to design our dresses. He was really taken by you, Sophia. He says that you'd be the perfect face for his prospective fall-line!"

Henley nodded from his place near the doorway, as he had already prepared to make the necessary food selections himself.

The excursion was not easily avoided, however; for Lacy prompted Sophia to schedule the private cab despite her reservations.

As they approached the streets of downtown, the sight of upscale storefronts caused the girls immediate excitement. Though her composure was well-preserved, Sophia's thoughts lingered largely on Kane Romanov.

She had been fortunate enough to find Maeve asleep next to Lacy the night prior; as they hadn't heard the man or his affiliates enter and had remained in the guest-bedroom during the entirety of their visit. Sophia had been relieved, worrying greatly of the two girls' safety in the company of such tyrants.

"What a beautiful necklace," Maeve commented, admiring a petite set of pearls.

Lacy stared at the same collar-necklace; a wry look upon her face. "How plain."

Sophia smiled inwardly.

They reminded her of her own set that she'd worn rather regularly. She had her handler purchase them for her discretely as they continued their browsing; for Maeve hardly fawned over jewelry and they'd make a great surprise.

Lacy noticed the exchange and, despite her previous criticism, was promptly covetous. "Shall we go for afternoon drinks?" she questioned; for she had grown annoyed of shopping.

Maeve wandered over, a designer cocktail-dress in hand. "Perhaps we should all lay off from the liquor. Sophia doesn't feel well, after all."

Lacy was indignant.

"I wouldn't mind a little lunch," Sophia offered, though the prospect of returning to the girls' home to rest was of a great desire.

"Let's go to the Luxe!" Lacy insisted. "Sophia can treat us to blinis and caviar. I'm sure they're upscale enough to offer it."

The mention of Russian luxury crêpes caused Sophia to stiffen.

"I thought we had discussed that we'd never go back there," Maeve told her, heedful of Sophia's noticed apprehension.

As they walked along the commercial-clad row, they had grown dangerously close to the club and its presently dimmed sign was in view.

"So many of those attractive, rich men from last night go there! Why wouldn't we decide to go back?" Lacy argued; for she still longed to see the bartender.

"They won't be here at this sort of hour," Maeve informed her, "Especially considering the lateness of the fashion event. Giovanni, himself, is likely sleeping off his headache."

Lacy remained unappeased, though another sight captured her attention.

"Oh, Sophia. It seems you were photographed!" Maeve declared, following Lacy's stare as it settled on a newsstand.

The skin of her cheeks became flushed as she surveyed the popular title.

"It is you and the eldest Romanov at the party! And Helena Romanov, too!"

Lacy remained silent as Maeve gushed; though Sophia was discernably disquieted. Her handler had also seen the title and he bought the magazines, exchanging a hand full of cash with the vendor hurriedly before tucking the entire stock beneath his arm.

Maeve's excitement lessened; as she had remembered Sophia's father's strict rules regarding her presence in the media. Sophia was known to be an affluent heiress, though public notice of her had been utterly discouraged.

"Perhaps we should return to the flat, now," Sophia told them. Despite her father's excursion, she knew the matter would be brought to him shortly.

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Following their return, Sophia had retired to her room tiredly. Maeve had opted to cheer her, having offered to order her favorite Thai food for dinner.

The gesture hadn't done much to mollify the situation for her, however; for Sophia waited with her phone reluctantly, expecting her father's stern call. Her stomach was sickened at the thought of the Romanov, having only just seen him in her father's marble-embellished kitchen.

Meanwhile: Lacy remained in the hall, fixating on the black-and-white image of the magazine. She had found another copy for sale at the drugstore on the corner and had purchased it angrily.

The sight of her flat-mate upon its cover: sightly and fair with her slender legs and Hollywood hair— the girl could hardly bare it. And Kane Romanov: a handsome and elusive socialite. Lacy was jealously besotted, noting his large, tattooed hands placed around the blonde's designer-clad waist.

Discarding the magazine to the floor, she snuck into Sophia's powder-room.

There, upon her dressing table, was the wrapped pearl necklace for Maeve. She opened it hastily, stuffing it into her purse.

Clothed in a luxury dress, she called a public cab and departed for the Luxe.

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