Sophia’s POV

"Is this it?" I whisper to myself as I stop in front of a high-rise building located in the middle of the city. I feel out of place, with my worn-out coat and boots that have seen better days. 

My eyes find the hastily scribbled address the officer handed over to me, comparing it with the signage on the wall. I am in the right place. But it makes no sense.

My father barely comes into this part of the town. I doubt he even knows who the Blackwoods are. There must have been some mix-up somewhere.

Taking another step forward, my hands press the bell down, and the returning sound makes me flinch. It seems to travel around the space rapidly, just as my pulse races underneath my skin. 

I notice the screen at the side of the gate when a voice comes up. “Name.”

“Sophia Wells.”

“What do you want?”

“I was sent here to speak with the Blackwoods.”

The voice calls silent, and for a minute, I think that I have been forgotten. I hear static on the other end before the voice comes up again. 

“Which of the Blackwoods, Miss Wells?”

I angle my head in confusion. “Mr. Blackwood?”

“Make your way in.”

The gates spring open, and I walk into the most luxurious space I have ever been in. The walls are covered with vines of beautiful flowers, and the white building glows back at me, as if reminding me of my place. 

I take in a sharp breath when the water fountain in the middle of the space comes into view. It is huge and breathtaking, the sharp black tiles blending so beautifully with the darkness.

A man in a dark uniform walks over to me. “This way, Miss.”

I fall into step behind him, careful to keep the same pace so I don't end up getting lost. He takes a sharp corner, and I do the same, revealing doors made of glass. He steps aside to let me through, then closes the door gingerly behind him. 

“Your coat, please?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

I turn around and he helps me out of them, before pointing down a narrow hallway. “Mr. Blackwood will join you in there.”

Nodding, I walk further in, my boots making such an odd squeak on the ground. I contemplate taking them off so I won’t ruin the floor.

When I get into the room made with marble, I plop into one of the leather couches and place my hands on my knees. I don't know how long I wait for, but it has to be more than thirty minutes, because one minute my eyes are hovering over every surface, and the next, I am being kicked out of sleep. 

I feel the sharp thud on the base of the couch, where my legs are. My eyes jerk open, and I push myself off the couch at once. It takes a few seconds for my brain to get working, to remember where I am.

I look up at the face peering down at me. 

“You.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "I should have figured it out."

“How…Why…?”

“Only a few hours ago, you acted like you were some righteous prude that wanted nothing to do with my wealth. So what the hell are you doing in my house?”

I swallow. “Your house?”

His eyes narrow at the stain on my blouse. “And you haven’t changed out of that. What do you want? Money to get a new blouse?”

“No…” I shake my head, trying to understand what is actually going on. 

“No? So how did you find out where I live?”

“The police…”

"Let me guess!" he interrupts, pushing away from me. He walks over to the bar in one corner of the room and leans into the wall. "When I handed you my card, you had a quick look at the address on it and decided to come bid for your wealth."

“Are you always this arrogant?”

“Are you always this sly?”

“I don’t care about your wealth, Mr. Blackwood!” I think I am going to lose my mind. “I am only here because the cops made me come.”

I recall I need his help so my voice lowers. “They told me that if I speak to you, I can get my father released.”

Something passes through his eyes. Confusion? But it is gone in a second, replaced by smugness and cockiness.

“You just made that up, didn’t you?

You’ve got to be kidding me. 

“If you want something, just say it. As you have probably figured out from the little research you did after you walked out on me, I do not have a lot of time on my hands. What’s the price for spilling coffee on you? Or do you want more?”

“Mr. Blackwood…”

He gives me a once-over. “I have to admit that you are not my type. Far from it. So, if your aims are to get into my bed, you need to have a rethink.”

Irritation washes through me as I watch him pour himself a drink. The bastard probably thinks the whole world revolves around him.

I toy with the idea of just walking out of here, but the thought of my father sleeping in that cold cell for a night crosses into my mind. He can’t have another heart attack. The doctor said we might lose him if that happens.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Mr. Blackwood," I start when I open my eyes again. "I am here because the police told me that if I spoke to you, my father would be released. I think there is some big mistake somewhere because he doesn't even know you. He cannot steal from someone he doesn't know."

That look again. 

“Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Just tell me what you want!”

I bury my fingers in my hair, frustration eating at me. “Is this because I yelled at you when you poured my coffee on me? I am sorry, Mr. Blackwood. But please, my father is important to me. He cannot—”

“Miss Wells?” A voice calls from the stairs.