Her tone says the opposite.
“So,” she continues, turning back to me now, her head tilting slightly, “what do you have in mind?”
I freeze. Because I don’t have a clue. I know what I like. I know what feels right. But I don’t have designer names or fancy terms to dress it up with.
Silence stretches a beat too long.
Her lips press together.
“Perhaps you have a designer you admire?” she prompts. “Just to give me an idea of your aesthetic.” There’s a hint of amusement in her voice now, like she already knows I won’t have an answer.
“I like colour,” I say finally. It sounds weak, even to me.
“Colour,” she repeats slowly, glancing at Ray as if to check I’m joking.
“I thought that was you.”
I turn at the sound of Sofia’s voice, relief washing over me instantly. She strides over like she owns the place—effortless, confident, completely unfazed. “Am I interrupting?” she asks, though her tone suggests she doesn’t particularly care.
“No,” I say quickly, pulling out a chair. “Not at all. Please, sit.”
“Alison,” Sofia says coolly, her lips curving into something that isn’t quite a smile. “Lovely to see you again.”
“It’s been a while,” Alison replies, her tone equally polite but blaringly false. The tension between them is instant. I glance between them, then jump in.
“Alison’s designing Ray’s apartment,” I explain. “He’s asked me to give some input.”
“Yes,” Alison says, her smile tightening just slightly. “I was trying to get a feel for Wynter’s tastes.” She pauses. “But she doesn’t seem entirely sure what she likes beyond ‘colour’.”
I straighten slightly in my chair. “I know what I don’t like,” I say, meeting her gaze this time.
Her brows lift just a fraction. “And what’s that?” she asks.
I gesture lightly around us. “Rooms that look like no one actually lives in them,” I reply. “Places that are more about impressing people than feeling comfortable.”
Sofia smirks, and Ray says nothing, but I feel his attention shift to me.
Sofia narrows her eyes slightly then leans back in her chair like she’s bored. “Ray, I’d love a coffee,” she says, all sweetness now. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
He’s half-focused on his phone again but nods anyway, pushing to his feet. “Yeah, sure.”
The moment he’s out of earshot, everything changes. Sofia leans forward, her expression dropping, her voice low and lethal. “Now, listen to me, you stuck-up little bitch,” she says calmly. “Just because you drip your scrawny arse in diamonds doesn’t mean you’re better than anyone at this table.”
I blink.
Alison freezes for half a second, then her lips curl.
“I believe I ticked Vinn off my list long before you came along,” she hisses back, her polished tone cracking just enough to show teeth.
Sofia gives a slow, mocking smile. “Funny,” she says, “because from what I’ve heard, he only entertained you out of boredom. The man had no taste back then. It showed in the décor too. Had to gut the entire house when I moved in.” Alison’s jaw tightens. “So, here’s what’s going to happen,” Sofia continues, her tone dropping again. “You’re going to tell Ray you can’t take this job.”
Alison lets out a sharp breath. “And if I don’t?”
Sofia tilts her head, like she’s almost amused. “I’ll ruin what’s left of your already shit reputation,” she says lightly. “And trust me, sweetheart, it won’t take much.”
The silence that falls is heavy and tense and I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“Actually,” Sofia adds, glancing towards the bar where Ray is still ordering, “why don’t you just gather your things and leave now? Save yourself the embarrassment.”