Chapter 19 PERCEPTION
The towering glass structure of the Sinclair Group gleamed under the evening sun as Sophie stepped through the front doors, heels clicking confidently against the polished marble floor. Heads turned instantly.
"Good evening , Miss Sophie!"
"Evening , Miss Sinclair!"
"Nice to see you again, ma'am!"
She offered polite nods and a tight-lipped smile as she breezed past the reception, barely slowing her pace. Her presence was commanding.
She didn't bother knocking when she reached Hugo's office. The door swung open with a sharp push as she marched in and dropped a thick, leather-bound document onto his desk with a dramatic thud.
Hugo, startled mid-email, looked up and blinked. "Good evening, Miss Sophie. What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to clear the rumours myself since Ethan's team is moving slower than a fax machine," she said, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
Hugo chuckled, unfazed. He was used to her fire. "Miss Sinclair, we are working on it. Please, give us a little time," he teased.
"If it's not cleared by tomorrow, I'll have all of you fired," she said with a mock scowl then burst into laughter. "I'm sure that's how Ethan talks, right?"
Hugo laughed softly. "Ethan's actually a cool guy. He doesn't talk like that."
"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes and flopped into the chair across from him. "Mother asked me to give this to you," she added, pointing at the massive file. "Said you'd know how to figure it out."
Hugo reached for it, flipping through the first few pages with interest. "But why'd you bring it yourself? Your mother has about a thousand security men who could've delivered this."
Sophie shrugged, smoothing her skirt. "I was already at her place and heading this way, so I figured I'd drop it off."Hugo glanced up, a slow smirk forming.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the room felt warmer.
Hugo practically grew up around the Sinclairs. His father had served David Sinclair loyally for decades, and after his passing, Hugo had naturally found his place within the Sinclair empire. The walls of the company felt like home.
Sophie, in particular, was a familiar whirlwind. He'd known her since they were both teenagers back when she wore glittering sneakers and gave dramatic speeches about becoming Prime Minister. Nothing about her had really changed, except the shoes had gotten more expensive and the drama more entertaining.
Unlike the rest of the Sinclair circle, who carried an air of formality and weight with every word, Sophie was light, chaotic in the best way. Free-spirited. Funny. Dramatic. She had a way of storming into a room like she owned the place and still making everyone feel like they were part of the joke.
With Sophie, conversation didn't feel like business, it felt like a break from it.
As she lounged in the chair opposite his, swinging one leg over the other and tossing witty jabs like she was hosting her own talk show, Hugo found himself smiling more than usual.
"You know, this office could use a little more color. Maybe a plant... or a disco ball."
Hugo looked up from the file, brow raised. "A disco ball?"
She grinned. "Just imagine Sinclair Group, but make it sparkle."
He chuckled. "Yeah, and we can hold board meetings under strobe lights."
"Now that sounds like a company people would actually want to work at."
He shook his head, a small smile creeping up. "You're ridiculous."
"And you like that about me," she said playfully,
He didn't answer right away, just glanced at her with a look that lingered longer than it should have. "I'm not denying it."
Sophie blinked, surprised by the softness in his tone.
"Well," she said quickly, pretending not to notice the shift in the air, "I guess I'll have to drop by more often. You're clearly more fun when I'm around."
"I don't know if fun is the word," Hugo said, eyes back on the file, "but... the office is definitely quieter without you."
Sophie stood up, brushing imaginary crumbs off her skirt with a dramatic little flair. "Alright, that's enough of my awesomeness you're getting for today," she said lightly, her voice playful but soft.
Hugo looked up from his files, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Tragic. I was just starting to recover from the last dose."
She smirked, already halfway to the door. "Don't worry, I'll be back to disrupt your peace soon enough."
As she reached for the handle, she paused. Turning slightly, she gave him a smile, one that lingered a second longer than it should have, something unspoken flickering in her gaze.
Hugo held it, quiet, steady.
Then she turned and slipped out, the door closing gently behind her.
As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell into a comfortable silence.
Hugo stared at it for a moment, the corners of his lips tugging upward into a small, unguarded smile soft, almost boyish.
Just for a few seconds.
Then he caught himself.
With a quiet sigh, he straightened in his seat, rolled his shoulders back, and shifted his focus to the huge file in front of him. The familiar cool expression returned to his face, as if nothing had happened.
Lena and Ethan were greeted in Greece by his security team and a few uniformed maids. Without a word, they efficiently unloaded the storage compartment of the chopper, placing the luggage neatly into the car trunks.
As Ethan and Lena settled into the back seat of the SUV, the door was shut gently behind them by one of the staff. The car purred to life as the driver took his place behind the wheel.
Just as they pulled away from the helipad, Ethan's phone buzzed. He pulled it from his jacket pocket and glanced at the screen
a message from Hugo.
Dinner reservation is set for 8 PM tonight at Varoulko Seaside. Private table under the Sinclair name.
Ethan gave a quiet exhale through his nose and slid the phone back into his pocket.
We have reservations ," Ethan said, glancing at Lena as the car cruised smoothly. "8 PM. Varoulko Seaside."
Lena raised a brow, her tone laced with mild sarcasm. "Do all billionaires have such a tight schedule? We just landed."
Ethan glanced at her, his voice calm and unbothered. "Time is expensive. I don't waste it."And besides, we need to take pictures for my media team."
She turned to him, brow furrowing. "Media team?"
"They want honeymoon photos," he said flatly. "Something to feed the public.
Even if his marriage was fake, Ethan knew he still needed to feed the public show them what they wanted to see.
She let out a short, dry laugh. "So this is a photoshoot now?"
He finally turned his head, meeting her gaze. "It's all part of the contract, Lena. Get used to it."
Lena rolled her eyes and turned to the window, her arms folded tightly across her chest. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, too low for him to catch it all but just loud enough to make a point.
Ethan said nothing, but the ghost of a smirk flickered across his face before it disappeared just as quickly.