15| The Unexpected Visitor

Another night. Another event.

The Sinclairs were hosting yet another formal gathering, though this one felt more like a gala than a simple event. It was being held at the Sinclair estate—but in a different wing from where she'd endured that painfully stiff dinner with Robert and Evelyn.

The grand hall had everything: towering crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow over the room, intricately designed floral centerpieces (the arrangements were stunning, even Sophie had to admit), and servers gliding between guests with trays of expensive champagne.

The room buzzed with elegantly dressed people, their polite conversations weaving together with the soft strains of classical music playing in the background.

Sophie gladly accepted another glass of champagne from a passing server, the coolness of the glass against her palm offering a small, fleeting comfort. But the knot of anxiety in her stomach only tightened as she stepped deeper into the lavish hall.

She would've felt more at ease in any other environment—anywhere else—if she didn't feel like she was constantly being watched and analyzed by everyone in the room. Every glance felt like a silent judgment, every polite smile tinged with hidden scrutiny.

Without thinking, she tipped the glass back, quickly chugging down the champagne in one go.

"Hey, go easy on that," Ethan's voice cut through her spiral, calm but firm.

Sophie glanced at him, suddenly feeling more grounded just by the way his blue eyes settled on her. "Right," she mumbled, lowering the empty glass.

What was she even nervous about? Maybe it was Robert. She could practically feel his disapproval radiating from wherever he was in the room, and she couldn't shake the thought of him looking down on her even more if she didn't at least pretend to be the elegant daughter-in-law they probably expected.

But apart from that, why would she let these strangers rattle her? She didn't see them in her daily life, and most of them wouldn't even remember her name tomorrow. Still, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place among the high-society elite.

Another round of champagne floated past, and Sophie reached for another glass, but Ethan smoothly stepped in the way.

"I think that's enough for you today," he said, his tone cool and even.

"I'm not going to drink it," she argued, her voice just a little too defensive. "I just want to hold it."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, his gaze assessing her like he wasn't entirely convinced. After a moment of consideration, he turned to one of the servers.

"Get her something without alcohol in it," he said, his voice low and smooth.

God, that voice. Why did it do things to her?

Maybe she'd drunk that champagne faster than she thought.

*******

In another part of the estate, Claire Montgomery was fuming.

She had been abroad when she first heard the news of Ethan's sudden marriage. It had come as a shock—a complete shock. She had always believed Ethan would marry her.

Their families had even discussed marriage once. But after a merger war between their companies, Robert Sinclair had put an abrupt stop to all talks of their union.

But Claire never gave up easily.

Ethan was everything she wanted in a husband—handsome, successful, and so maddeningly unattainable. His coldness only made her want him more. It was a challenge. And Claire loved a challenge.

Determined to see exactly who the hell Sophie Miller was, she had cut her trip short just to attend this event.

Claire's entrance was as calculated as it was dramatic. A hush fell over the crowd as she stepped into the grand hall, her every movement exuding confidence and sophistication.

The black dress she wore hugged her figure perfectly, its long train sweeping behind her with every step. Heads turned, whispers followed—but that was exactly what she wanted.

Her sharp eyes scanned the room until they landed on them.

Ethan and Sophie.

There they were—standing together in a pocket of warmth that made Claire's blood boil. Sophie was saying something, and Ethan had the faintest hint of a smile on his face. A smile.

That was rare for him. And for some reason, seeing that made Claire's anger spike even higher.

Claire's lips curved into a smile, sweet on the surface but edged with steel. She crossed the room, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor, until she was right in front of them.

"Ethan," Claire purred, her voice dripping with warmth as she leaned in, wrapping her arms around him. She held the hug just a bit too long. "It's been too long."

Ethan stiffened under her touch, his arms staying politely at his sides. He pulled back, his blue eyes cool and unreadable. "Claire," he said simply, his voice flat.

Claire finally turned to Sophie, her smile never wavering. "And you must be Sophie," she said, her tone sweet but laced with condescension.

"I've heard so much about you." She didn't elaborate. "I'm Claire Montgomery. Ethan's closest friend. Well—when I'm not competing with David for that title. Ethan and I practically grew up together"

Sophie smiled politely, though the words closest friend echoed a little louder than they should have. Still, she stayed polite. "It's nice to meet you, Claire."

Claire's sharp gaze flicked over Sophie's dress, taking in every detail. "What a lovely dress," she said, her voice light, but the undertone was impossible to miss. "You have such an interesting style."

Sophie's smile faltered slightly. She glanced down at her dress—it was Lily and Mia-approved, and expensive by her standards. She liked it. But now she suddenly felt... unsure.

"Thank you," Sophie replied, keeping her tone steady. "You look stunning."

Claire's smile widened, saccharine and smug. "Oh, this old thing? Just something I threw on for the occasion." She waved a hand dismissively, before turning back to Ethan, her hand lightly resting on his arm.

That made Sophie's stomach twist.

"Ethan, you must tell me everything you've been up to," Claire continued, her voice dropping into something softer, more intimate. "I was so surprised to hear about your marriage."

"There isn't much to know," Ethan replied simply, his voice cool and dismissive.

Claire let out a dramatic laugh, loud enough to draw attention from nearby guests. "He's always like this. So low-effort, it's a miracle he manages to run a multimillion-dollar company." She winked at Sophie like it was some shared joke.

Sophie chuckled politely, though discomfort churned in her stomach. Was she being jealous right now? No, Sophie, you're not going to be that girl. Don't be that girl. She scolded herself silently, willing the tension to leave her shoulders.

"But seriously," Claire continued, her voice dropping to something softer. "We need to catch up. I won't be in town long."

Ethan's expression didn't change. "Maybe later. I need to introduce Sophie to a few more people."

For a split second, Claire's smile faltered, but she quickly recovered. "Of course," she said smoothly. "I wouldn't dream of keeping you too long." She glanced at Sophie again, her eyes narrowing just enough to be noticed.

"But Ethan," she added, her voice dropping just for him. "We do need to talk business. It's something you'll want to hear sooner rather than later."

Ethan sighed, turning his attention fully to her now. "What findings?" he asked, his voice betraying his impatience. Claire always had a roundabout way of making things more complicated than they needed to be.

Claire's smile was coy. "Later," she said lightly, her words threaded with both urgency and casualness. "But my schedule is packed this week, so you'll have to let me know when you're free."

Sophie felt the sting of being sidelined, her presence shrinking as they talked over her. But it was work. She could understand work. But something about Claire's lingering looks and the way she clung to Ethan's every word unsettled her

"Ethan finally gave in. "Fine. Let's talk now."

He turned to Sophie, his expression softening just a fraction. "Give me a few minutes."

Sophie forced a smile, though disappointment tugged at her chest. "Of course. Take your time."

She hated how understanding she sounded. But she wouldn't be that wife—the one who clings and complains.

As Ethan and Claire moved away to discuss business, Sophie was left standing alone, surrounded by a sea of sophisticated people who somehow made her feel smaller with every passing second.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. You're fine, Sophie. You've handled worse.

But as she watched them, she couldn't help but wonder... had she?

*******

As the evening wore on, Sophie reminded herself she wouldn't let anyone—or anything—ruin her night.

So, she dove into the conversations swirling around her.

And to her surprise... it wasn't that hard.

People were friendlier than she'd assumed. A kind woman in an elegant emerald gown even asked where she got her dress. Just like Mia had coached her, Sophie smiled and replied, "Oh, it's vintage." The woman's eyes lit up with admiration.

Maybe she'd steal Claire's line—Oh, this old thing?—later, if she felt bold enough.

But as the conversations drifted into luxury vacations in Monaco, ambitious business ventures, and whispered scandals from recent charity galas, Sophie felt herself slowly fading. She tried to stay engaged, nodding and laughing at the right moments, but her eyes kept darting across the room.

And every time they did, they found him.

Ethan, still deep in conversation with Claire.

Claire's laughter rang out like a bell—sharp and clear, slicing through the background hum of polite chatter. Sophie's eyes followed the sound, just in time to see Claire lean in closer, her perfectly manicured hand resting lightly on Ethan's arm.

Sophie's chest tightened. She took a sip of her drink—the non-alcoholic one Ethan had insisted on—but it didn't help. That familiar pang of jealousy twisted in her stomach, unexpected and unwelcome.

Calm down, Sophie, she told herself. You're not that girl. You don't get jealous over stuff like this.

But it was easier said than done.

The walls of polite conversation suddenly felt suffocating. Sophie needed air. Or at least a quiet corner where she could breathe without pretending to be fascinated by yachts in the Amalfi Coast.

She slipped through the crowd, her heart pounding a little harder than she wanted to admit. As she turned a corner, eyes focused on her escape route, she collided with someone—hard.

Great.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," Sophie blurted, stepping back quickly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

The man she bumped into turned, and his smile was immediate—sharp, confident, and just a little too perfect.

He was tall, impeccably dressed, with dark hair that was effortlessly tousled.

His features were striking, but there was something about his eyes—too knowing, too sharp. Handsome, yes. But kind? She wasn't so sure.

"Ah, no harm done," he replied smoothly, his hand lingering a little too long on her arm as if steadying her.

His voice was warm, velvety even, but there was an undertone of self-assuredness that sent a flicker of unease down her spine.

"I don't believe we've met before," he added, his eyes raking over her in a way that felt more like an assessment than polite curiosity. "I'm Damon Blackwell."

*******

"Sophie Sinclair," she replied, offering a polite smile despite the unease prickling at her senses.

"Ah, the new Mrs. Sinclair," Damon said, his smile widening in a way that felt too practiced. "Ethan's a lucky man." His laugh was light, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Thank you?" Sophie responded, unsure how else to reply.

Damon's gaze lingered on her just a second too long, his eyes glinting with something she couldn't quite place. "Adjusting to this crowd can't be easy," he mused, his voice smooth, like he was sharing some inside joke only he understood. "But you seem to be doing wonderfully."

The words felt like a test.

Sophie straightened, keeping her smile intact even as discomfort curled tighter in her chest.

"Are you just a great actress," Damon continued, his tone turning more pointed, "or are you actually intrigued by all this?" His eyes flicked to the crowd of polished elites, as if they were some kind of spectacle.

Sophie's unease deepened. Why did he act like he knew her?

Damon chuckled, as if sensing her tension and trying to diffuse it. But his next words only set her more on edge. "I say this because... sometimes, I feel like an outsider too. But I thrive on chaos and risk. You..." His eyes raked over her, slow and deliberate. "You seem like someone who prefers a simpler, safer world. A different kind of outsider."

Sophie's smile tightened, her discomfort growing. "That's a unique point of view," she replied lightly, her voice cool but polite.

Damon tilted his head, clearly amused by her restraint.

"Interesting. I don't know if you're involved in the business world, but Ethan and I..." He let the words hang for a beat.

"We have competing businesses. You could say we're rivals in more ways than one. He plays it safe—but I take risks." His voice lowered, his next words laced with something unsettling. "And you—you seem too carefree for someone living such a... controlled life."

Sophie forced a laugh, even though she wanted to roll her eyes. Who was this guy, and why was he psychoanalyzing her like they were old friends?

"You seem to know it all," she said dryly. "Are you always this charming, or is this a special occasion?"

Damon chuckled, leaning in slightly, his tone turning sly. "I like your humor," he murmured. "But tell me, Sophie—what do you think? About opposites. Do you think they attract?"

Before she could answer, a burst of laughter from across the room snagged her attention.

Claire.

She was playfully swatting Ethan's arm, her radiant smile perfectly poised, like something out of a magazine cover. The easy way she leaned into him, the familiarity in their body language—it twisted something deep in Sophie's chest.

God, Sophie's chest tightened. The image dug into her insecurities deeper than she wanted to admit.

Damon noticed her distraction, his smirk deepening. "Claire Montgomery," he said, his voice faintly mocking. "The queen of high society. You see the way she looks at him? If you look closely, you'll see it—she's marking her prey. And warning everyone else to stay clear."

Sophie snapped her attention back to Damon, his words like a cold slap. Her discomfort turned to irritation.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice clipped and tight. "I need some air."

But Damon wasn't done. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur that made her skin crawl.

"Of course. But if you ever find yourself needing someone who sees your value—someone who'll give you the excitement you deserve—" His eyes gleamed with something dark. "You know where to find me."

Find him? She didn't even know who he was five minutes ago, let alone where he thought she'd track him down.

Sophie was done—done with his smugness, his so-called "deep words," and whatever game he thought he was playing. She nearly snapped at him right then, but she caught herself just in time. No point wasting her energy on misplaced aggression.

"Good to know," she replied curtly, spinning on her heel and walking away before he could say another word.

Across the room, Ethan's gaze found hers. Their eyes met, and for a moment, Sophie saw something flicker in his expression—concern, maybe even a flash of jealousy. Whatever it was, it made him abruptly end his conversation with Claire and weave through the crowd toward her.

They met halfway, and the buzz of voices and clinking glasses seemed to fade into the background. Ethan's blue eyes searched hers. "Sophie, are you alright?" His voice was low, quieter than usual, but sincere.

Sophie nodded quickly, forcing a small smile, though her nerves were still prickling from the encounter with Damon. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... socializing," she replied, the words coming out a little sharper than she intended.

Ethan's gaze flicked past her shoulder, scanning the room until it landed in the direction Damon had gone. His jaw tightened, and a subtle tension seemed to ripple through him. "Were you talking to Damon Blackwell?"

Her hesitation was enough of an answer, but she nodded nonetheless. "We bumped into each other, yes," she said carefully, unsure of where this was leading.

Ethan's expression darkened—a rare crack in his usual, carefully composed demeanor. "Stay away from him," he said quietly, but there was steel in his tone. "He's not someone you need to be around."

Sophie's brows lifted, caught off guard by the sudden sharpness in his voice. "It's not like I wanted to talk to him," she shot back, her frustration bubbling up before she could stop it.

The whole night had been one thing after another, and now this?

"You were busy talking to Claire. What was I supposed to do? Stand in a corner and twiddle my thumbs?"

The words were out before she could stop them, and the weight of her own jealousy settled over her like a heavy blanket.

She braced herself, expecting Ethan to chastise her, to remind her yet again about the arrangement they had and the boundaries he'd so clearly set.

But to her surprise, his expression softened.

He exhaled, his voice lower now, more measured. "I'm sorry," he said, and the sincerity in his tone caught her off guard. "I shouldn't have left you like that. That's on me."

Sophie blinked, her irritation faltering. She hadn't expected that—an apology, from him? It threw her off balance in the strangest way.

Ethan extended his arm toward her, his voice gentler now. "Come on. Let's get some air."

For a moment, she hesitated. But then she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, letting him lead her through the crowd.

His warmth steadied her as they made their way out onto the terrace.

The cool night air brushed against her skin, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers from the garden below.

Standing under the quiet blanket of stars, Sophie felt a weight lift from her shoulders. For the first time that evening, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

She hated how easily her feelings for Ethan shifted—how they danced between lighthearted crushes and something darker, something that scared her more than she cared to admit.

Because what terrified her most wasn't falling for him.

It was the sinking feeling that she already had.

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