Chapter Ten

Once again, Sophie was seated at the back seat of the Mercedes Benz, inwardly seething like a petulant child who had had her favorite toy taken away and refusing to talk to Dante the whole way home.

This was to be her second trip to the penthouse in less than twenty four hours and she didn't relish the second time going anymore than she had the first time.

It was embarrassingly provoking to think of the crude manner in which Dante had rudely come to collect her from her friend's place.

Dante had stormed Janet's home, with Marko in tow, like an angry father who intended to confront and bring back home, his young daughter who had eloped with her lover.

Sophie had done no such thing.

She had simply wanted to spend the night with her maternal cousin and Friend. To be around someone familiar. Someone she could still trust. She didn't understand Dante's anger at all.

Afterall, she had left him a note. But then again, maybe some one like him was incapable of comprehending something as bas