Her silence was telling. I wasn’t going to tell her that I’d caught Della dancing at the warehouse, or that I suspected she danced more often than she would admit. It wasn’t anybody’s business but Della’s, especially where Sophie was concerned.
I kept going, not willing to allow Sophie to get a word in edge wise until my point was made clear between us. “She would also listen to my opinion that she dances only if she were ever ready to, but never for anybody else. I’m sure that wouldn’t go over well with you, would it? You’d rather force her hand.”
“You would really risk her future like that? She was given the lead role in Swan Lake and had a fair shot at being part of the international competition and winning. Don’t act like you’re not disappointed she gave up. I saw it in your eyes when she announced she wasn’t going back.”
Had I been disappointed? Yes. But only because Della felt connected to her mother through ballet. Her father and I wanted what was best for her, and she was killing herself slowly by being part of that world. It seemed like the easiest choice to support after what the media had driven her to.
“I believe this conversation is over,” I all but spit, about to hang up when she stopped me.
“You can think badly of me all you want. Half of what you already assume is most likely true, but I loved my brother dearly. I may not agree with his choices in a wife, but I’ve always looked up to him and loved Della like a daughter.” Her words made little sense to me, especially because Sophie was not a maternal figure. She’d stepped in when time allowed and I respected her for it, but she was no mother to Della even if she tried to be.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Her sigh was light but burdened. “I have made many decisions in my life that I’m sure my brother didn’t approve of as well, but the one I never did was trying to be part of Adele’s life. She’s pulling away and I don’t want to lose her too. We both know Andrew is hardly around. Seeing her is what I look forward to.”
“It doesn’t feel good, does it?”
There was a pause. “What?”
“Being coerced into doing something that leaves you miserable,” I stated casually. She was roped into her marriage because of Andrew Vasquez’s status as top District Attorney. He came from old money that he inherited and was set for life. It was clear to anybody who saw them that they regretted the decision. He spent more time with his mistress across the city than he did with her, probably with a kid or two if rumors were true. Did I pity her? No. She walked in a willing participant and was trying to put Adele in the same situation.
“Remind me, Sophie, how is Andrew? Still warming his secretary’s pussy or is it his law partner he spends his nights with these days?”
It was a low blow and I knew it, but it got the desired response. “Fuck you, Theodore. You’re no better off considering Mariska found somebody who wasn’t you to share her body with. Just because it was after your separation doesn’t mean the desire wasn’t there before it was made final. What does that say about you? So, excuse me for being stupid enough to believe we could help each other. Or that you’d, at the very least, be willing to help the girl you say you care about.”
My chuckle was low and dark, building as my head shook at her ruse. “You’re lucky, Sophie. Adele is still in your life in some form despite the bullshit you spew at her. I’d suggest stopping while you’re ahead before you lose her for good. She won’t need my help making that decision if you keep it up.”
Her breathing halts for a split second.
“And Sophie?”
“What, Theo?”
“Don’t waste my time with your false concern. You never wanted to help me, you simply wanted to claim what you couldn’t have to get back at your husband. I’m no pawn.”
Before she replied, I hung up and blew out an irritated breath. Who the fuck did she think she was? She was no more than a sad middle-aged housewife who threw away any future picked out for her by someone else. I’d raise hell if anybody pushed that on Della. She deserved more. Anthony knew it. Elizabeth knew it. Everyone but Sophie, who did whatever she pleased despite her brother’s wishes.
I dropped back into my chair. “I need a fucking smoke.”
I was staring at the desk when I heard, “I thought you were going to quit.” Without even looking up I knew who the feather-light voice belonged to.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” As soon as I looked up, I took in her outfit and fought back a smile. Her white shorts were a little too short on her long legs, but they didn’t cling to her smooth skin. They were high-waisted like she preferred wearing and loose, with a striped shirt tucked into them and an oversized white blazer over top, left unbuttoned. She always dressed to impress, which made her parents happy. I knew when she wasn’t out, she was in paint-stained overalls, pajamas with ridiculous fucking pictures on them, or workout pants with knee-high socks featuring obnoxious patterns.
Della was always eccentric in her style preferences when she had nobody to dazzle, and that was what impressed me most about her.
She walked in, the heels of her shoes clicking against the floor as she stopped in front of my desk. “It’s almost five thirty. I don’t have anywhere to be since…”
Since she stopped
