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
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
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