Infatuated: Mafia Romance

VIII

VIII.

A few days had passed, though her father had not called.

Sophia didn't dare to contact his hotel or personal staff and had hoped that the matter had somehow been acquitted. She did, however, discuss the photograph with Henley. Her father's well-seasoned driver and chamberlain had been surprised at the incident, but had assured her that he'd handle the paparazzi and any prospective implications related to the article.

Despite this, she had worried herself privately of Kane Romanov and the night out at the Luxe. She vexed herself thoroughly of the possibility of the man contacting her father. He had been highly concerned with his absence— perhaps her haughty rejection of his advances had angered him into demanding his involvement.

He could declare blackmail. Or demand some matter of retribution for her carelessness towards him.

Still, the thought of the young prostitute continued to haunt her. Kane had only scoffed at the mention of her: a fact that led Sophia to worry that she was dead.

Maeve had found her crying into her pillow one night and had come to aid her.

"The photograph won't be the subject of talk for long," the redhead had told her, slipping beneath the velvet comforter and joining her in her bed.

Sophia continued to cry; for Maeve could never know the verities of what troubled her.

Maeve had been secretly relieved at her distress, however; as she did not enjoy the sentiment of Kane Romanov's company. The family was illustrious and wealthy— Kane, Helena, and the remainder of the siblings having each their own monumental inheritance. Sophia had also been given the same insurmountable means from her late great-grandparents, but there was a variance in the manner of which the two families were regarded.

The Romanovs were a cornerstone of the elite: furtive, renowned, and intemperately established. Maeve knew not the extent of this, but Giovanni had taught her to tread in their company with prudency; as they had begun to collaborate with them more frequently.

Sophia and Maeve were wrung from their thoughts; for Lacy had walked across the hallway in a pair of designer heels and had retired to her room with haste.

They had noticed her recent manner of secrecy, Lacy having come home early in the morning for four days in a row. She had an air of regency newly about her: a self-importance only known through a clandestine thrill. She had claimed to have found a new opportunity as a waitress at a five-star health resort; though, the aroma of vodka and perfume had led them to suppose otherwise.

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"Lilac and cream? Or would you prefer lavender?"

Sophia stared at her cup of tea. She had noticed the missing pearls, though she hadn't yet mentioned the incident.

"Ms. Stomsvik?"

"Sorry, Henley; perhaps lavender is better suited," she stated. She paused from her musings and admired the table arrangements: French-dotted tulle and crystal glassware; highlighted with white roses and opulent, silver accents.

The elderly custodian nodded; for he, too, agreed. He had noted her lack of excitement and had attributed it to her father's business excursion. Worried, himself, over Aleksander's lack of correspondence, he assured the blonde lullingly: "Affairs within Dubai will conclude brusquely. I'm sure your father has been exceedingly occupied in the family's international interests. You mustn't worry."

Sophia nodded, "Of course, Henley."

Taking a sip from her tea, she worried little of her father's affairs, however; and more of matters involving the Romanovs. She had vexed herself greatly with Lacy's late night travels to the Luxe. It would only be a matter of time before she would encounter Dmitry and Afon— if she hadn't yet met them there, already.

In addition to this was another great concern: she had noticed the perimeter of the estate-house and the girls' flat to be watched. She had mentioned it quite casually to her handler, though he had remained not the slightest bit alarmed. Sophia knew well that the men were affiliates of Kane Romanov; for they wore the same lordly, high-budget uniform. Neither Lacy nor Maeve had noticed their company and, for that, Sophia had been exceedingly relieved.

"It seems there have also been presents that have been delivered to the estate," Henley told her, "Shall we save them for your birthday?"

Sophia addressed the sizable collection. Henley had placed the wrapped gifts upon her father's favorite Boca do Lobo collector's hutch and they did well to decorate the space.

"You could open one or two, perhaps," he offered, hoping to cheer her.

Sophia smiled and unwrapped a small, black box. She gasped suddenly; as it contained a set of luxury, imported sweets and a chocolate-diamond bracelet.

Henley studied the gift's tag that had fallen to the floor. Kneeling to the polished bocote, he was also stirred; for upon the tag was the single initial: 'R'.

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