"Cocktail waitressing. Dealing in stolen goods. What's next, Sophie? What else are you going to do to put me in an early grave?" Alexander pressed his fingers to his temples. The headache was building behind his eyes, a familiar companion these days. He wanted to look up at the sky and demand to know what he had done to deserve a daughter this ungovernable.
"I'll be perfectly good from now on." Sophie's voice was solemn. Her eyes sparkled.
Senior executives at Sterling had a nickname for her: the Little Devil. Lying was the mildest of her talents.
"Do you think I'm an idiot? That I'd believe a word coming out of your mouth?" Alexander squared his shoulders. He tightened his arm around Grace. He had made a decision. He could no longer control Sophie. If she kept going at this rate, she wouldn't make it to twenty.
"How would you like me to prove my sincerity?" Sophie tilted her head, studying him with an expression of elaborate patience.
A heavy silence filled the study. Alexander held her gaze for a long moment. Then he spoke, each word measured and deliberate, with the weight of something he'd been planning for a very long time.
"I've chosen someone for you. An arranged introduction. You'll meet him soon."
Sophie's composure cracked. Her eyes flew wide. "Dad. Have you completely lost your mind? An arranged introduction? I'm nineteen! I'm not some leftover product sitting on a clearance shelf. And Sterling Industries is doing just fine -- we don't need a corporate marriage alliance."
"Alexander, she's still a child!" Grace's eyes went round. She'd known about her husband's plan in the abstract, but she hadn't expected him to act on it so soon.
"If I don't find someone to rein her in fast, she might not live to see twenty." He pressed a finger to Grace's lips, silencing her protest, then turned his stare back to Sophie. "This is not a discussion. This is how it's going to be. Here's his file. Look it over and prepare to meet him." He held out a manila envelope, his expression brooking no argument.
He'd been searching for years. The right man had to be exceptional enough to match Sophie's relentless intelligence, and strong enough to handle the little devil without flinching. The man in that file was the best candidate he'd ever found. Alexander had originally planned to wait a few more years before making the introduction, but Sophie's escalating behavior had forced his hand.
Sophie didn't take the envelope. She stared at it as if it were a live grenade.
"Not a chance in hell." Her voice had gone flat, the playfulness stripped away. "I'm not going on any arranged introduction, and I'm not looking at that file. Who did you pick for me? Some bald old millionaire sitting on a pile of money? Some spineless trust-fund baby who's never worked a day in his life?" A cold, sharp smile. "If I ever get married, I'll choose the man myself."
She delivered this declaration with the gravity of a constitutional amendment, gave her father one last scorching look, and turned on her heel toward the door.
The door swung open. Edwin Mercer, who had been pressed against it with a glass tumbler to his ear, tumbled into the room. He collected himself with magnificent dignity, straightening to his full height, brushing invisible dust from his impeccable suit, and regarding Sophie with a look of grandfatherly warmth.
"Miss Sophie, what would you like to wear for the introduction?"
"Go to hell, Edwin. If anyone forces me into an arranged introduction, I'll show up stark naked in the middle of Fifth Avenue."
"I would advise caution with such declarations, Miss Sophie. One should never make promises one might be compelled to keep." Edwin's smile followed her as she stormed down the hallway, her heels striking the marble floor like gunshots.
The Harley roared to a stop outside a crumbling walkup in a part of Manhattan that real estate agents preferred to describe as "transitional." Sophie kicked the stand down and swung off the motorcycle with practiced ease, pulling her helmet free and shaking out her dark hair. She squinted up at the building's grimy facade.
The sign on the third floor read ASHFORD PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS, though half the letters had fallen off years ago and the remaining ones were coated in a fine layer of urban grime. This was the side office of Dominic Ashford, Sterling Industries' senior security consultant, and in the fifteen years since he'd hung the sign, he'd never bothered to replace a single letter.
Behind her, Ember Fairfax removed her helmet with the careful movements of someone who treated everything in life with quiet deliberation. She wore a pale yellow blouse that caught the afternoon light, and despite the wind-tossed ride, she looked like she'd stepped out of a watercolor painting. Slender, ethereal, with clear calm eyes that missed nothing. She smoothed her hair and straightened her collar.
The two women drew stares from a pair of delivery men across the street. They were both beautiful, but in completely different ways. Sophie was vivid, bold, a blade in black denim. Ember was stillness itself, all soft edges and composure.
"Sophie, I don't think this is a good idea." Ember's voice was measured, unhurried.
"I know it's a terrible idea. But it's better than being dragged to an arranged introduction like some medieval bride." Sophie pressed her lips together and started for the building entrance.
"But doing this would destroy your reputation completely." Ember fell into step beside her, her brow creasing.
"If it buys me my freedom, reputation is a small price. You know I've never cared what people think." Sophie waved a dismissive hand and took the stairs two at a time, not bothering to wait for the elevator, which hadn't worked since the Clinton administration.