Chapter 2
The next morning, I came downstairs sporting dark circles under my eyes.
I was so freaked out last night that I locked the guest room door three times over—only for James to not even bother showing up.
There was a whole breakfast feast waiting for me on the table.
James was in comfy home clothes, focused on his financial newspaper. The sunlight caught his flawless profile, making him look almost serene—like he was straight out of a magazine ad for the good life.
What a poser!
I dragged the chair across from him with a loud scrape and sat down, making sure he couldn't miss the noise.
He didn't even lift his eyes, just said in a flat voice, "Milk or juice?"
"I'm dying of thirst. I want an ice-cold Coke," I said, deliberately making things difficult for him.
The butler, Michael Jefferson, looked troubled.
James finally put down his newspaper and glanced up at me.
"Sophia, it's the first day of your period. Are you trying to give yourself killer cramps?" James said, his tone flat but with a hint of concern.
I was stunned into silence, totally choked up.
How did he even know it was my period?
Wait—didn't my mother call him a few days ago and tell him to look after me?
But seriously, why would a guy even keep track of something like that? What a freak!
A faint flush heated my cheeks. For a split second, I thought I saw the ghost of a smile touch his lips, but it vanished too quickly to be sure.
He pushed a cup of milk in front of me.
"Drink it. Quit acting like a kid," James said, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument.
His tone was like he was coaxing a bratty kid who didn't know any better.
I absolutely hated that patronizing, fatherly act he always pulled.
I shoved the milk away. "No way! I said I want Coke!"
The mood dropped to freezing in an instant.
Michael and the other servants were frozen in place, not daring to make a sound.
James' expression turned icy, too.
He stared at me for what felt like half a minute, not saying a word.
Just when I thought he was about to blow his top and flip the table, he headed into the kitchen without saying a word.
A moment later, he walked back out with a cup and slid it in front of me.
Inside was a dark brown liquid, fizzing with bubbles.
It looked for all the world like Coke.
I eyed him warily. Seriously, was he actually being nice?
My fingers brushed the glass. It was room temperature—no trace of ice.
"I removed the ice. Michael mentioned you only drink soda at room temperature," he said, settling back into his seat and picking up the newspaper as if discussing the weather.
My heart gave a little jolt, like someone had gently tapped it.
Yes, I was different from most people—I preferred my cola at room temperature, not over ice. I'd only asked for it iced to be difficult, to provoke him. Yet he hadn't called me out.
Instead, he'd quietly remembered this small, particular habit of mine. I'd only ever mentioned it to Michael. How did James even know?
Holding the glass, I took a few tentative sips. The stubborn resistance I'd been clinging to all morning began, quietly, to dissolve.
I stole a glance across the table. He was still absorbed in his newspaper, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
He seemed a little different from how I remembered him.
Just then, my phone buzzed.
It was Alex Carter, my college senior, who used to have a major crush on me.
"Sophia, congrats on tying the knot! When are you free? Let me throw you a proper bachelorette send-off," Alex said, clearly hyped.
Almost instinctively, my eyes flicked toward James.
He showed no reaction.
Right, we promised not to meddle in each other's lives.
"Sure, Alex. How about tonight?" I said, deliberately raising my voice a notch.
At my words, James' hand, mid-flip through the newspaper, paused for a moment.