Page 106 of Saving Sophia

The room emptied out, but the music kept thumping, almost as loud as my heart. Callie kept dancing, but her eyes darted around and her movements were stiff. Too soon, John returned, leading a man in and then standing, stoic as stone, at the door.

I didn’t want to look at the man. Didn’t want to know. And I was helpless to resist.

It was Daddy.

Alone. No police for back up. Not even his scary brother Griff?

I froze, staring at him. Even across the room, I knew those cashmere eyes, the perfectly tousled, wet sand hair, that crooked smile. My blood stopped flowing. My heart stopped beating. I blinked back the burn in my eyes. He was there. Right in front of me.

Which meant he was in danger.

“Good evening Mr. Abbott.” Mr. Roscoe led me over to the blue velvet couches, holding the hand that wasn’t clenched around my forearm out in a magnanimous welcome gesture. “John said you were here to see about Sophia. Can I have her get you a glass of champagne?” He shoved me forward and sat down, waving Daddy over to join him.

I stumbled on my stupid shoes, catching myself on the edge of the couch, still unable to believe he was really here, cool and composed in his navy suit, his hair barely ruffled, his face shadowed in the lurid, blue-glowing lights. “Daddy?” I whispered before I could stop myself, my eyes glued onto his handsome face. “You came for me?”

“I always will, baby girl,” he said, his smile as handsome and sure as the evening I met him in the police station.

I shifted from one foot to the other, my tray dangling in my hand. What should I do? Was this the opportunity Callie was talking about? The feel of the gun under Mr. Roscoe’s suit jacket still tingled on my fingertips. My heart hammered sickeningly in my chest as I watched Daddy walk over and sit in the same place Nik Vasili had the night Mr. Roscoe had shot him.

Brad headed for one of the blue velvet chairs. Before he could sit, Daddy looked at him coolly.

“Actually, I’d love a glass of a good Pinot Noir if you have it.” His voice was smooth, silky. Like the day with the mean shopkeeper who tried to overcharge us for the dolls. His eyes barely twitched in my direction. Brad gaped at him, his chest puffing up and his face turning red.

Mr. Roscoe laughed and waved Brad off. “Bring me a whiskey sour while you’re at it.” He turned his gaze back to Daddy when Brad slunk away. “You have balls, I’ll give you that.” He leaned back, stretching his arms across the back of the couch. “Now, why are you here?”

“You have something of mine, and I’d like it back.”

“Something of yours?” Mr. Roscoe raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean her?” He looked over at me, still frozen, unable to move or do anything. He sighed. “How regressive. I assure you, she’s here of her own free will. I don’t ‘have’ her. Go ahead. Ask her.”

I squeezed my eyes closed. I was going to pass out. Throw up. Fall down. All three. I needed to leave. Exit my body. I couldn’t do this. The moon-faced man cleared his throat softly from his spot in the corner. Just to remind me he was there. To remind me what was at stake when I answered.

Daddy stared at me, his face calm, other than a slight tick in his jaw. His eyes swept over me, taking in the uniform, the platform sandals. I was dressed exactly like I had been the night we met. I suddenly wondered if he had a lollipop in his pocket. I almost let out a hysterical laugh. I had to keep it together.

I tossed my hair, a move I’d watched Callie perform hundreds of times, hoping it looked confident. “I … I’m sorry … Ethan.” It felt so wrong to call him that. Everything was so very wrong. Crying over that would have to wait till later.

“Sophie?” The pet name almost broke me.

The air leaked out of my lungs like a slowly deflating balloon. I wanted to run to him, throw myself into his arms and beg him to take me home. But I couldn’t do that. Not if I wanted us to live.

I shook my head. “It’s Sophia.” The words were cold, metallic in my mouth. “You shouldn’t have come.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and reminded myself to breathe. I needed him to leave and never come back, but I also needed to crawl into his lap and hide my face against his chest until this awful nightmare was over.

You need him to live.

I took in a shuddering breath.

Callie came to my side, gingerly touching the bruise on her cheek with one hand, the other slipping into mine. “We’re here by choice.”

Daddy frowned, his stare moving from my face to her still-puffy cheek, his eyes sharp, the ember flecks almost glowing. Was Callie sending him a message? Letting him know we needed help?

Maybe we could let him know he needed to get the police, to get Hayden and all the other officers. My mind raced. What could I do? What message could I send?

And then, as if on cue, an Amber Jade-inspired idea opened up like a slow-blooming flower in my mind. Something so crazy, only a plucky heroine could pull it off. Was I expendable cocktail waitress number two? Or could I be the lead in my own story?

Be bold. Be brave.

It was all I had. It had to work.

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