Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
It’s hunger; a voracious appetite for more in a woman who has everything and who, I suspect, is starting to realize it will never be enough. Don’t underestimate the power of dissatisfaction. When someone like Sofie, who’s had everything culture tells us should make us happy—money, fame, prestige—realizes it doesn’t, one of two things happens. She dives deeper into cynicism, gives up on meaningful pursuit, and continues down that path. Or she starts poking around inside herself and at the world around her to see if there is more to this life than the things we acquire, the things we achieve. I believe, even though she may not even realize it herself, Sofie has chosen the latter. She’s searching for significance. That’s what draws me to her, because I recognize that. I remember that.
“Sofie, did you see the way Martin Bennett’s face lit up when he talked about Bennett Charities?” I wait for her nod. “And Marlee, the way she came alive talking about the Peace Corps? They’re doing what I call following the fire.”
“And what is that, exactly?”
“It’s figuring out what burns inside of you, and then letting it guide you.” My eyes probe her face. “What guides you, Sofie? What’s your fire?”
A tiny frown puckers her expression as the question challenges her.
“I’m not sure how to answer that.”
“Maybe not yet, but you will.”
She holds my glance for a few seconds before looking at the floor.
“So you think Uncle Martin has found his fire, huh?”
Does she think I don’t realize she deftly redirected the conversation away from her? Just this once, I’ll let her get away with it.
“Honestly, from what I observed tonight and have seen over the last few weeks,” I say, “I think not only has he found his fire, but that it’s going to guide him right into retirement even earlier than everyone thinks.”
Her eyes snap to my face, and maybe she knows what I’m about to say, but I’ll say it anyway.
“And that will bring this power struggle between Walsh and your father to a head sooner than later.”
“There’s no struggle.” Sofie licks her full lips, a quick swipe to make way for the lie she’s telling herself, but that doesn’t fool me. “Daddy knows Bennett Enterprises passes to Walsh.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do.” I hesitate before giving a mental “screw it” and going all the way. “And Deutimus won’t be trapped in the crosshairs of that. It’s not just jobs at stake. Wrapped up in our company, there are lives, there are families. They’re people I made a commitment to, and I have no intention of letting them down.”
Sofie and I stare at each other in the dimming light of the rooftop lanterns, in the waning light of the moon.
“Bishop, you have the kind of mind, the kind of heart, that changes people’s lives when they meet you, and I’m just a model. I smile and look pretty.” Sofie’s gaze wanders over the partygoers around us before returning to me. “But can I give you a piece of advice?”
I nod, eyes fixed on the resigned expression she wears.
“If you care about those families, about those people who depend on you, whatever you do,” she says, eyes as sharp and bright as the rare diamonds in our African mines, “don’t trust my father.”
“What do you mean?” She has my full attention, because when it comes to the people who rely on me for their livelihoods, I can’t be too careful.
“He uses the things and people you care about against you to get what he wants.” Sofie’s mouth cracks into a hard smile. “Since he cares about no one but himself, not even his own daughter, he doesn’t have those pesky liabilities.”
“Did he hurt you?” The desire to squeeze the breath out of Ernest Baston’s body takes over for a few seconds, surprising me with its intensity.
She looks from my scowling face to the hand clenched around my glass.
“Not in any way you would imagine, no.”
“Why are you telling me this? Warning me about your father?” Even though I had ascertained this information for myself already, it means something to me that she’s sharing it.
“Because you’re a good man.” She crooks that wide, beautiful mouth a little. “And there aren’t enough of those out there. Mostly frogs, from my experience.”
“If I’m such a good man,” I say, going in for the kill, “once you’ve dumped the quarterback, and we both know you will, have dinner with me.”
Sofie’s laughter strikes a discordant note in the cooling night air.
“You just don’t give up, do you?” She lowers her lashes and shakes her head. “A good man should have a good girl. I’m not a good girl, Bishop. Take out someone like Marlee. You two can talk about the Peace Corps and the starving children in Africa.”