Page 48 of Rescuing Sophia

Her answering smile is radiant, lighting up her entire face.

As the team gathers their things, preparing to return to work, I pull Sophia aside. We find a quiet corner, partially hidden by a large potted plant.

“I’m so proud of you.” My hands rest on her hips. “The way you handled that customer… You were amazing.”

“Thanks.” She ducks her head, a pleased smile playing on her lips. “It was nothing.”

I tilt her chin up, meeting her gaze. “You did that all on your own. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Sophia leans into me, her body fitting against mine in a way that feels like coming home.

I press a kiss to her forehead, then to her lips. It’s brief, mindful of her still being on the clock, but filled with all the emotions I can’t put into words.

“I’ll see you at home later?” I ask as we part.

“I can’t wait.” Her smile is soft.

Back at HQ, my mind is still in the café. The taste of Sophia’s exceptional coffee lingers on my tongue, a reminder of the morning’s sweet success.

Sophia is flourishing, growing into herself in ways I never could have predicted, and I—lucky bastard that I am—get to witness it all.

More importantly, I’ll be damned if I let anyone take it away.

FIFTEEN

Blake

The Guardian Grindhums with the afternoon lull, the earlier chaos of the grand opening settling into a more manageable rhythm. The aroma of freshly ground coffee mingles with the sweet scent of baked goods, creating an atmosphere that’s both invigorating and comforting. I lean back in my chair, the supple leather creaking slightly, and take a moment to appreciate the warm glow of the Edison bulbs overhead. They cast a gentle light over our table.

Gabe clears his throat, drawing my attention back to the matter at hand. “So, fearless leader, what’s our next move on Greaves?”

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” The mention of Greaves’ name is like a splash of cold water, jolting me from my momentary contentment. I lean forward, elbows on the polished wooden table, and lower my voice. “How did he slip away from us? He was on the fucking yacht.”

“That’s the million-dollar question.” Ethan’s fingers drum a restless tattoo on his mug, the ceramic clinking softly with each tap. “We’ve hit a wall. Every lead has turned up dry.”

“It’s like chasing a ghost,” Walt adds, his usual jovial tone tinged with frustration. “The bastard’s always one step ahead.”

The rich taste of my coffee suddenly seems bitter on my tongue. “I know. It’s like he’s completely dropped off the grid.”

Rigel leans in, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if he has? What if he’s gone to ground so deep we can’t dig him out?”

A heavy silence falls over the table, broken only by the whir of the espresso machine and the muted conversations of other patrons. I look around at my team, seeing my frustration mirrored in their faces.

“That’s not an option.” My voice is firm, even as doubt gnaws at the edges of my resolve. “We can’t let him slip away. Not after everything he’s done.”

Gabe nods, his jaw set in determination. “Blake’s right. We’ve got to keep pushing. There’s got to be something we’re missing.”

Before anyone can respond, a familiar voice cuts through our tense discussion. “Refills, gentlemen?”

Sophia approaches our table, a tray balanced expertly on one hand. The sight of her cheeks flushed from work and a smudge of flour on her forehead momentarily pushes thoughts of Greaves from my mind.

“You’re a lifesaver.” Walt grins, already reaching for a fresh mug, his eyes lighting up with appreciation.

She sets down our refills with practiced ease, the aroma of fresh coffee wafting up and momentarily dispelling the heavy atmosphere. As she leans over to place my mug before me, I catch a whiff of her perfume—something light and floral—mingling with the scent of coffee and vanilla.

“Everything okay?” Her gentle gaze meets mine with a hint of concern.

I force a smile, not wanting to burden her with our troubles. “Just shop talk. Nothing to worry about.”

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