Still the Billionaire's First Choice - Chapter 12

Felipe wished Sophia hadn’t woken. He could have lain there forever with her clinging limpet-like despite being fast asleep. She’d felt soft and warm and settled, and lying in her nest of a bed, he’d felt as if the rest of the world was locked out. Like the old days when they’d stretched out by the pool together when no one else was around. But that hadn’t been reality then and it wasn’t reality now.

He refused to regret what had happened, but his restlessness had grown as the seconds had ticked by too slowly. Her cuddling tightly to his side had taken him too far back to when everything had been easy. When they’d talked, laughed, touched—innocently, yes, but hell, they’d been close. Her judgement of him now rankled. He was nothing like the people she’d associated with them.

His thoughts had turned to the other truly terrible night he’d endured—two summers before the fateful one when they’d fought. He’d been seventeen when his invalid father had finally died. His mother had accompanied his father’s body to town while Felipe had been required to stay at the villa to finish her work. When he’d finished he’d been unable to face going to their small cottage alone. So he’d hidden in the pool house. That was where Sophia had found him—buried in a heap of cushions. He’d heard her come in and turned to the wall—too distraught to let her see his pain. She’d silently crept into his hiding place and curled behind him. She’d clung and wouldn’t let go. Wouldn’t let him suffer alone through that long night. She’d said nothing. There was nothing that could be said. She’d just stayed—warm and soft and insistent until dawn. Then before her father had woken, before anyone else could find them, she’d quietly left. It was the one and only night they’d spent together and he’d not thought about it in years.

It didn’t help to remember it now. Not to remember how sweet and kind she’d been.

He shouldn’t have told her about his mother’s passing. He didn’t want her pity, nor the memories that suddenly struck. And he shouldn’t have told her his mother had warned him off her. That had been cruel. His mother had liked her—that was the point.

Sophia would often come to the kitchen, a fan not just of his mother’s cooking, but her conversation. She’d been lonely. Her father had relied on the isolation of that holiday home and frequently left Sophia alone while he partied with his latest lovers and hangers-on. No wonder she’d gravitated to wherever Felipe or his mother were. Plus, his mother kept a supply of her favourite biscuits in a tin on the counter for Sophia to raid any time she wanted. Sophia could never resist them. She wasn’t allowed to eat anything sweet back in Athens. While on holiday she’d been left alone to eat so many times.

There hadn’t been a kitchenette in that crappy little studio this morning. She’d made their coffee on a single electric element. She’d barely be able to cook on that, so what did she even eat?

She’d be tired after last night. After today as well. Knowing her, she wouldn’t bother eating at all and Felipe couldn’t rest knowing that. She should be cared for. Satisfied. He couldn’t take food to her—he didn’t trust himself not to ravish her again. ‘They’ were supposed to be over anyway. But he could take her out for food. It wouldn’t be a date or anything, but she needed sustenance. He would ensure her basic needs were met.

And he needed to know she was okay.