The Rivals - Vi Keeland Page 0,92

always freaking real. Nothing I ever said or did with Sophia had to do with my grandfather.” I raked my fingers through my hair, tugging at the strands. “But every time he asks if I’m going to be able to come through with their bid information, I assure him I will.”

“But you never intended to get that information out of Sophia?”

I shook my head. “I was planning on making up a number a little under mine and rolling the dice. If my work coming up with the number was right, we’d win the bid anyway, and no one would be the wiser.”

“Did you tell Sophia that?”

“She never gave me the chance to.”

“And now you think she isn’t going to believe the truth when you finally lay it out for her.”

“I’m certain she won’t. The entire thing sounds like bullshit—even when I just told you the story.”

Mr. Thorne nodded. “I hate to say it. But you’re right.”

“Great.” My shoulders slumped. “I came here thinking you’d tell me something different.”

“Considering I’m your only friend, I’d say it’s my job to tell it like it is. You don’t need me blowing smoke up your ass. You need a friend to vent to, to work through your problems with, and help you figure out how to solve them. And most of all, you need someone to remind you that drinking is only going to make shit worse.”

I looked up at him. “I know. I guess I just wanted to pretend there’s an easy way out of this mess for a little while.”

“I know, son. When something good happens, our first instinct is to drink to celebrate. When something bad happens, we’re ready to drink to forget. And when nothing happens, we drink to make it happen. That’s why we’re alcoholics. But we can’t drown our problems. Because our sorrows are Olympic swimmers.”

I forced a smile. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. That’s what best friends are for. Just don’t expect me to braid your hair. By the way, I’ve been meaning to mention that you could use a damn haircut.”

I wound up staying at Mr. Thorne’s for most of the night. We never did come up with an easy way out of the mess I’d gotten myself into. But it wasn’t for lack of trying. Unfortunately, there just wasn’t an easy way out of this one. I hoped there was a way out at all.

Chapter 26

* * *

Sophia

Knock. Knock. Knock.

It was almost midnight. Unless housekeeping was knocking on my office door, which I sincerely doubted, there was only one person it could be at this hour.

I kept quiet, hoping he’d think I’d left my light on and go away. The last thing I needed was a showdown with Weston. I felt drained, physically and emotionally exhausted, after spending the last two days with my grandfather and father. Tonight, when I’d snuck back into The Countess, all I’d wanted to do was crawl into bed. But my grandfather had asked me to send him a bunch of information, and since I was on shaky ground after what I’d told him, I wanted to show him I was a hundred-percent committed. So I’d come right up to my office, before even going to my room. I’d been relieved to find Weston’s office light off when I’d passed by a few minutes ago.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I held my breath the second time.

“Soph, I know you’re in there. I’ve been watching the hotel’s security cameras on my phone since you left, waiting for you to come back. I saw you walk in a little while ago.”

“Just go away, Weston.”

Not surprisingly, he didn’t listen. Instead, he cracked open my office door. But rather than swing it wide, he stopped with it slightly ajar. “I’m coming in. Please don’t throw anything. I just want two minutes.”

I grimaced. As much as I hated him at the moment, a tiny part of me felt bad that I’d thrown his cell and injured him. I’d never been violent toward another person.

The door slowly creaked open until Weston was fully visible. The way he looked caused an involuntary ache in my chest. His hair was disheveled, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. He wore a wrinkly dress shirt, slacks that I was pretty sure he’d slept in, and a large Band-Aid covered his forehead above his left eyebrow.

I sighed. My mood had shifted yesterday from angry to sad. I no longer wanted to throw a cell phone; instead, I’d cried myself to sleep last night.