Chapter 8

• Sophia turns around and heads for the walk-in closet along the other wall, finding it too in darkness and no signs of him at all. His aftershave lingers in the air in here as he must have refreshed it, and it knocks her off guard for a moment, reminding her of his smell. His past closeness because he's never switched it out in all these years, and her throat closes up with a sudden surge of pain.
• If his plans were business-related, he wouldn't have changed his entire suit to go out. He keeps spare shirts at the office with ties to suit all his outfits and would only come here to pick out casual clothing. He avoids coming home at all costs.
• Leon would never meet a client dressed that way either, and her head goes into overdrive at where he might be and what he might be doing.
• Leon casually dresses once in a blue moon since becoming President of POLO. He's a workaholic who dedicates his entire life to the company. His friends rarely see him, and when they do, it's never a weekday like this, so he's always in work mode. So much so, he owns very little nonformal clothing.
• Sophia turns back into the walk-in wardrobe and heads right to the back where the security screens are located. She types in the passcode and selects the garage camera to show where their cars are parked. Her driver dropped her off at the front door today as she didn't take her own car this morning, so she didn't see if Leon had taken his.
• She presses the control panel to have the camera scan the downstairs underground parking, and his spot for his Range Rover is occupied with his navy four by four. That can only mean he switched out his car for the Bugatti Centodieci.
• He only owns two vehicles and always drives himself. It's his pride and joy and his toy that rarely leaves the garage except on special occasions when Leon deems it fit. Her stomach flips over, and she tries not to overthink the unusual actions of his behavior this evening. Coming home before eight to change, and taking that car on a Wednesday night, when she knows he's swamped with work this week. It's not like him.
• "He's gone to let off steam because of what today is...." She says it out loud, choked up with this weird ache in her gut that tells her he's doing something she would hate and refusing to ponder or guess at it as it will only hurt her more. As much as she pretends she doesn't care and doesn't intervene in his life, she depends on the fact he's always working and rarely does anything else. It's her stable safe where she can keep tabs on him and know he's not doing anything to bring shame to their shambles of a marriage.
• It's how she can continue living like this even if he never touches her or shows her a fraction of care or affection because he's not giving it to anyone else. There's been no scandals, rumors, or signs of him doing anything that would out them as a fake couple in the last four years, but this feels off tonight.
• Sixth sense, a woman's intuition maybe, but her heart pounds through her chest, and her stomach aches as it twists inside of her. Her legs go weak like they're made of putty, and her hands shake uncontrollably.
• She knows he wouldn't go to the grave with that car, she knows that much, and he's not been there once since the first year, to her knowledge. He might have arranged to blow off steam with Bernard, but she hopes not because that eternal bachelor only knows how to party himself into a stupor while surrounded by loose women who don't see a wedding ring as a reason to keep their hands to themselves. Leon usually only sees him for lunch dates or sports time, never evening meet-ups when Bernard is always on the hookup.
• "Stop thinking and go to bed." She chastises herself loudly, wavering, and pushes it all back down. Taking slow deep breaths and reminding herself that from time to time, she feels this way. She gets scared and momentarily thinks the worst, yet he's never yet done anything. He's too upright and solid to hurt his family name or POLO with something dirty.
• Impulsively she pulls out her cell and dials his number before she can stop herself; otherwise, she might go crazy and imagine the worst and rip her brain to shreds with the fear of the unknown. It rings three times, and he picks up. Something that, despite their years of strained interaction, he'll always do. He never ignores her rare calls. No matter how mad he is at her. Texts, calls, emails... Leon always replies to her within minutes.
• "What is it, Sophia?" he sounds annoyed, his tone low and husky, and she can tell he's had a drink or two by the slight laziness of his speech. He has a low tolerance for alcohol because he rarely touches it, and it winds her nerves tighter, creating anxiety inside of her.
• "Where are you?" She asks bluntly, knowing she has no right, but she doesn't care.
• "I told you, I have plans. I'm out." There's noise around him as though he's sat somewhere busy, with lots of other people, and there's soft music playing, but it doesn't sound like a club or party. More like a restaurant or somewhere similar.
• "You left your clothes on the bed, and your sports car is gone; I was worried that you might be having a hard time today." Sophia's mask slips, and the softer side of her shows face without meaning to. A slight gentler tone and the way she says it is alien to how she talks now. There's a noise like a breathy 'hah' of disbelief at her nerve for calling him this way and a small dry chuckle.
• "Four years too late, baby. Sophia, hang up before I say something I might regret. I'm not in the mood tonight. I'm out; I'm staying out. I'll see you at work tomorrow. I'm fine, just like always." He has no warmth in his tone, and she's guessing whoever he is with knows well what kind of relationship they have if he's talking normally and not trying to put on an act or be quiet about it. It has to be Bernard, or maybe Andy. She hopes it's Andy because he'll take good care of him no matter how much he drinks.