Sophia’s POV
Was she Rita’s mother? They looked nothing alike though. But her shrewd brown eyes reminded me of Derek Terrence.
The woman barely glanced at Rita as she took her seat, the attendants hurrying to clear our table for her.
“I wasn’t aware I now reported my every movement to you, Rita.” She responded curtly.
“I apologise, Mother,” Rita ducked her head apologetically then she indicated in my direction where I stood awkwardly. “This is Sophia Prescott, Reid Prescott’s wife.”
I inclined my head slightly.
“Good day, Mrs Terrence.” I said, hazarding a guess that she was indeed Derek’s mother.
She didn’t correct me. Instead, she frowned at me, wrinkling her nose like she had smelt something unpleasant.
“So she’s the social climber,” Mrs Terrence said turning to face Rita. “Why have you brought her here, Rita? People like her don’t belong in our circle!”
My jaw nearly dropped from the shock accompanying her words and Rita flushed a bright furious red.
“Mother, she’s nothing like that.” Rita refuted but Mrs Terrence was far from done.
“She is nothing like that? Didn’t she divorce her rich husband and marry Reid, a richer partner, barely a couple of months later?” Mrs Terrence’s eyes shifted to me once more as she spoke, her blatant dislike for me evident in her gaze. “Rita, you know nothing disgusts me more than people so desperate for wealth that they can do anything.”
My mouth opened and shut but words couldn’t leave my lips. I knew my situation was peculiar but to hear someone who barely knew me judge me so brutally did something to me.
Mrs Terrence snapped her fingers once and the attendants around us straightened ready for her command before her words were even out of her mouth.
“Dispose of anything she has touched.” Mrs Terrence instructed.
Rita took a step forward, shock apparent in her wide gaze.
“Mother.”
Mrs Terrence raised a hand silencing Rita.
“Enough. I will not hear a word more of your complaints.”
Rita’s lips parted as though she intended to interrupt anyway but I spoke up first.
“It’s fine, Rita, I can defend myself,” I said before facing Mrs Terrence head-on. “You have deduced all this about me without even speaking to me once.”
Mrs Terrence didn’t glare at me as she picked up the iced tea the attendant just served her, she just looked down her nose at me.
“Little girl, you are too beneath me to even speak to me,” She scoffed derisively. “Don’t you dare cross your limits.”
“It’s alright, I don’t like to talk to women like you either,” I nodded, my voice coming out stronger than I would have expected. “I don’t make it a habit to speak to women like you who assume the worst of people who don’t fit into your pretty little boxes.”
I had been wrong in my earlier assessment. She was exactly like Anastasia Baxter. Vain and cruel.
Mrs Terrence dropped her glass back on the table, her angry brown eyes focused on me like lasers.
“You-” She scowled but I didn’t let her finish.
“I will not stay where I am unwelcome, Mrs Terrence,” I nodded at a distraught looking Rita who seemed like she wanted to apologize for her mother in law.
“It was nice hanging out with you, Rita. Please send my regards to Derek.”
And with that, I walked out of the store without a backwards glance, my head held up high.
I had nothing to be ashamed of.
Yes, I married my second husband months after my divorce. Yes, from the outside world, I might have seemed like a shameless gold digger. But I was done letting people who knew nothing about me walk all over me and define who I was.
Besides, I had a dinner to prepare for. A dinner that could change everything.
I wore the black dress.
I put my hair up in a high ponytail to show off the exquisite back. I took my time rubbing in my lotion like I had nothing better to do. I sprayed my perfume on like it was armor and I applied my makeup with steady hands doing my best not to think too much of Mr Prescott.
Naturally, I failed.
I thought of his stunning grey eyes. Deep and unfathomable. I thought of how they had darkened with unspoken desire in the restroom. How sometimes those eyes were as chilling cold as they were scorching hot as though Mr Prescott was mentally undressing me.
I thought of his hands. Larger than mine, sure, steady, comforting. I thought of those hands undressing me. Taking off the dress he got for me. Those hands pinning me in place as he ravished me.
I thought of his lips, Lord help me. Stern and firm yet each of his kisses, more addictive than the last. I thought of the kisses we had shared, his lips on mine. His lips on my neck, his teeth on my skin, and his fingers…
You know that moment where you are on a rollercoaster and the drop is coming, that moment when anticipation and adrenaline surge through your veins in a potent heady mix and the drop finally comes, the rush so intense you might have died?
That was where I was as I walked into The Swan that evening.
It was a quiet diner so close to the ocean that I could hear the waves rushing and crashing against the shoreline and I could taste the salt in the air.
A waiting valet escorted me to our table where Mr Prescott was waiting.
Decked out in a perfectly tailored navy blue suit that brought out the gray in his eyes, I had never seen a more stunning man in my entire life. And his eyes were fixed on mine.
“Sophia.”
“Reid.”
His name left my lips like a prayer.