Chapter 234
Sophia's POV
Claire gestured to the empty seat beside her with the gracious air of a woman who owned not just the chair, but the entire restaurant. "Sophia, darling, sit here. Right next to me."
I hesitated, my fingers gripping the back of the chair across from Lucas. But Claire's smile—sharp and expectant—left no room for refusal.
I slid into the seat beside her, the velvet cushion soft beneath me, though it felt more like a trap closing than comfort offered.
"You must be exhausted," Claire said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. She reached over to pat my hand, her touch cool and brief. "All this traveling with Lucas. Business trips can be so draining, can't they?"
"They have their moments," I said carefully, pulling my hand back to my lap.
"Oh, I'm sure." Her eyes glittered. "But you're such a trooper. Not everyone could handle Lucas's... demanding schedule."
The way she said "demanding" made my skin crawl, like she knew exactly what kind of demands he made on me behind closed doors.
Lucas sat across from us, perfectly still, his expression unreadable. He looked like a man watching a chess match where he'd already calculated every possible move.
When the waiter appeared, Claire ordered first: duck confit with a cherry reduction. Lucas ordered the beef bourguignon without glancing at the menu.
Then it was my turn. "I'll have the poached chicken breast," I said. "With steamed vegetables. No sauce."
Claire's perfectly shaped eyebrows arched. "Poached chicken? How... austere."
"I've been trying to eat lighter," I said, keeping my tone neutral.
"Lighter?" She tilted her head, studying me like I was a specimen under glass. "You know, my cousin went through a phase like that. Eating nothing but bland food, claiming her stomach was sensitive. Turned out she was pregnant."
My heart stopped.
I felt Lucas's attention snap to me like a physical force, though when I glanced at him, his expression remained perfectly neutral.
"Well, that's not the case here," I said, my voice coming out steadier than I felt. "I've just had some digestive issues lately. Nothing serious."
"Oh, of course." Claire's smile widened, but there was something calculating in her eyes now. "Digestive issues. How unfortunate."
The waiter returned with our drinks—wine for Claire and Lucas, sparkling water for me.
"So, Sophia," Claire said, settling back in her chair. "Lucas tells me you've been invaluable on this trip. What exactly is it that you do for him?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but she cut me off with a laugh.
"No, wait, let me guess. You're his... assistant? Secretary? Or perhaps something more... versatile?"
The word "versatile" hung in the air like poison.
"I handle client relations," I said tightly. "Among other things."
"I'm sure you do." Claire turned to Lucas, her hand reaching across the table to rest on his. "Darling, you never told me you'd hired such a multifaceted employee."
Lucas's fingers curled around hers, and I had to look away from the casual intimacy of it. "Sophia's been with the company for years," he said. "She knows how I work."
"I'm sure she does," Claire murmured, her thumb stroking the back of his hand.
The food arrived, and I attacked my bland chicken with mechanical precision. It tasted like nothing, which was probably for the best. Anything with flavor would have made me gag.
Claire launched into a monologue about wedding preparations. The florist, the caterer, the dress fittings. She spoke with breathless enthusiasm, completely oblivious to the fact that Lucas was currently running his foot up my calf beneath the table.
I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth.
Lucas's expression didn't change. He was nodding along to whatever Claire was saying about centerpieces, his face the picture of attentive interest. But under the table, his leg pressed against mine, his foot sliding higher with deliberate slowness.
Heat flooded my face. I shifted in my seat, trying to pull away, but he followed, persistent and shameless.
How dare he.
Claire was still talking, gesturing with her wine glass. "—and I told Mother that peonies were absolutely out of the question. They wilt so quickly, you know. Roses are much more reliable, don't you think?"
"Absolutely," Lucas said, his voice smooth as cream. His foot reached my knee.
That was it.
I kicked him. Hard.
His leg jerked back, and for the briefest moment, his mask slipped. His jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something dark and dangerous. Then it was gone, replaced by that same infuriating calm.
Claire paused mid-sentence, her gaze flicking between us. "Is everything all right?"
"Fine," I said quickly, stabbing a piece of chicken with more force than necessary. "Just a cramp."
"Mmm." Claire set down her wine glass, her lips curving into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You know, Sophia, I was just thinking—you remind me of a little sparrow I saw this morning. Hopping around outside the hotel, pecking at crumbs."
I looked up slowly, meeting her gaze.
"It was so determined," she continued, her tone light and conversational. "Fluttering around, making all this noise, acting like it owned the courtyard. But of course, it was just a sparrow. No matter how much it puffed up its feathers, it was never going to be more than that."
The message was clear: Know your place.
I set down my fork carefully, fighting the urge to lunge across the table. "How poetic."
"I thought so." Claire picked up her wine glass again, taking a slow sip. "It's important to understand one's... limitations, don't you think? Otherwise, you end up embarrassing yourself."
Lucas's hand tightened around his own glass, but he said nothing.
I smiled, sweet and poisonous. "I'll keep that in mind."
The rest of the meal passed in tense silence. I ate what I could stomach, which wasn't much, and counted down the minutes until I could escape.
When the check finally came, Lucas paid without looking at it.
"Well," Claire said, rising from her seat with a satisfied sigh. "That was lovely. Shall we head back to the hotel?"
We?
My stomach dropped.
Lucas stood, offering Claire his arm. She took it with a proprietary smile, and they walked toward the exit together, leaving me to trail behind like a forgotten accessory.
Outside, the Paris night was cool and clear. Claire leaned into Lucas, her head tilted toward his shoulder, and he... he let her. His arm curved around her waist, his posture relaxed and comfortable.
I followed at a distance, my hands shoved deep in my coat pockets, my chest tight with something I refused to name.
When we reached the hotel, Claire turned to Lucas with a coy smile. "I don't suppose you've booked a room for me, have you?"
"I—" Lucas hesitated, his gaze flicking to me for the briefest moment.
"Oh, don't be silly," Claire said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll just stay in yours. We're getting married in three months, after all. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before."
The words hit me like a slap.