Sofia's fingers find the inside of my thigh, and I nearly choke on my coffee. I give her the most pointed look I can manage while her mother's back is turned, but Sofia just smiles sweetly and asks, "Dante, would you pass the jam?"
"Sure," I say through gritted teeth, reaching across the table for the jar. As I hand it to her, our fingers brush, and she has the audacity to let the contact linger.
"Thank you," she says, her voice dropping just enough to sound breathless. "You're so... helpful."
Jesus Christ. This girl is going to be the death of me.
"More eggs?" Olga offers, turning back to us with the pan in hand.
"I'm stuffed," Sofia declares, finally—thank God—removing her hand from my leg. But not before giving my thigh one last squeeze that makes me seriously consider the benefits of cold showers.
I catch her eye and mouth 'stop' when her mother isn't looking. She just grins and mouths back 'make me.'
When breakfast finally ends—the longest thirty minutes of my life—Sofia follows me outside without being asked. Progress, I think. Or maybe she's just planning something new.
"So," she says, lighting up one of my cigarettes—when did I start sharing those with her?—"I'm eighteen now."
"Yeah, I heard. Happy belated birthday, by the way."
She waves dismissively. "The point is, I'm an adult. I should be doing something with my life, not just sitting around this house going stir-crazy while you babysit me."
"What did you have in mind? College applications? A nice internship at a non-profit?" I can't help the sarcasm that creeps into my voice.
"I'm serious, Dante." She takes a drag, exhaling slowly. "I need something to do. Some kind of purpose. I'm going insane with all this sitting around."
Actually, that's not a terrible point. A bored Sofia is a Sofia plotting her next escape attempt. A busy Sofia might be easier to manage.
"What if I could get Vito to agree to let you go back to work at RRE?" I suggest. "It would get you out of the house, give you something to focus on."
Her face lights up like I just offered her the keys to the city. "Really? You could do that?"
"I can ask Vito. No guarantees, but it's worth a shot."
"That would be..." She pauses, and for a moment I see genuine excitement replace the constant anger and frustration she's been carrying. "That would be amazing. Thank you."
The sincerity in her voice catches me off guard. This is the first time she's looked at me like I might actually be helping her instead of just keeping her prisoner.
"Don't thank me yet. He might say no."
"But you'll try?"
"Yeah, I'll try."
She finishes her cigarette, and I can see her mood starting to shift again. The brief moment of hope is fading back into the familiar restlessness.
"Speaking of Vito," I say, checking my watch, "we need to head over to the penthouse tonight."
"Why?" The suspicious tone is back immediately.
"Well, if you'd been answering your sister's texts, you'd know she's throwing you a birthday party."
Sofia stares at me like I just told her we're flying to the moon. "A birthday party? I turned eighteen over a month ago."
"Yeah, but things have been... busy. She wants to try and make amends. Give her a chance, Sofia."
"I don't want to see her. She didn't stand up for me at all in this whole thing."
"I know. But she's trying. And it's one night. Besides, your mom already said you're going, so unless you want to disappoint Olga..."
