C9 Warning Whispers

Sophia sat with Lucas, stirring her tea absently at the breakfast table. She kept thinking about what had happened the day before, especially the peculiar hum she had heard and the enigmatic barred door.

She looked at Lucas, whose countenance was unreadable and composed as he read something on his phone.

"Lucas," she said tentatively. His sharp blue eyes met hers as he raised his head. "Yes?"

She spoke carefully as she said, "About that room I saw yesterday. The one that's locked." May I ask what's inside?”

Lucas put his phone down while maintaining a neutral expression. "It's just storage," he said. “Some equipment and old records. Nothing of particular interest to you.”

Sophia scowled. “The same thing you said yesterday, but why the lock? And that faint hum—I didn't think it was just regular storage.”

His eyes were steady but flickered by something she couldn't quite identify as he sat back in his chair. “Even you are not privy to some aspects of my life, Sophia. It has to do with necessity, not mistrust.”

"Necessity?" she repeated, growing increasingly irritated. Lucas put a hand over hers as he reached across the table.

The storm in her chest persisted despite his soothing, stabilizing touch. “I'm safeguarding some things, not only for myself but also for other people. Believe me when I advise that it's best to avoid asking.”

Sophia withdrew her hand, resignation replacing her annoyance. She knew she wouldn't get much from Lucas because he was an expert at deflecting.

But she couldn't get rid of the mystery surrounding the sealed room. Why has there been a mystery over mystery since she met him? Was he a bag of mysteries or what?

Well, in a way, maybe he was. She had not been able to get him out of her head for once.

Intentionally ignoring the way his presence seemed to permeate the space, she swallowed.

Lucas spoke, changing the topic, “I picked up one of your sketches in the studio earlier and studied it,” he remarked, "Your attention to detail is very good. It's one of the reasons I hired you.”

Sophia smiled slightly, getting over her train of thought. She replied, "High praise coming from you," but there was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"I mean it," he said, looking her in the eye.

The air between them felt charged for a time and Sophia averted her gaze

"About the commission," she changed the topic as well in a firm voice. "Are there any additional things you'd like me to note?"

"Not really," Lucas leaned back and murmured. "Just remember the piece's power dynamics.”

Sophia nodded, mentally making a note. "That should be easy."

Despite Lucas's normal fervor, their conversation became surprisingly easy as they went over the core of the project again.

Although he was witty and perceptive, she had never noticed the warmth in his tone until that moment.

The talk eventually gave way to a more informal discussion. “You’re a perfectionist,” Sophia noted, all of a sudden.

Lucas grinned. "You say that as if it were a negative thing."

"It's not," she acknowledged. "But constantly holding yourself to such a high standard must be exhausting."

Lucas's face became thoughtful. "You don't have the luxury of being anything less than perfect when you've built everything from nothing."

"Very few would have guessed you did that," she remarked quietly. “You have the demeanor of someone who has always been at the top.”

There was not much comedy in his chuckle. "Appearances are crucial, are they not?"

Sophia hesitated, sensing an opportunity to peel back another layer of Lucas Hawke. "Lucas, what motivates you? Beyond success, beyond power—what’s the real reason you do all of this?”

He was silent for a while. His look seemed far away, as though he were seeing something she couldn’t. “Control,” he murmured last, his voice subdued. “When you grow up with none, you crave it. It turns into your compass.”

His revelation caused Sophia's chest to constrict. She could see the weight of it in his eyes, and it was the most vulnerable thing he had ever said to her. “Control isn’t the same as happiness,” she remarked gently.

A small smile curled Lucas's lips, but it didn't extend to his eyes. "Happiness is ephemeral. Control never changes.”

The silence that followed was thick but not uncomfortable.

Sophia had the impression that they had entered a very private area and crossed an invisible barrier.

And the way he looked at her the whole time made her feel those same emotions she was trying like hell to avoid —made her feel wanted, needed.

************************************************

Sophia chose to spend the afternoon at a little coffee shop she often visited downtown because she needed a respite from the pressure at the mansion.

Her imagination had always found refuge in the comfortable room with its eclectic furnishings and mellow indie music.

With her sketchpad in hand, she sat near the window, intending to bury herself in her work.

She sensed a presence approaching and she looked up to see Camille Frost, her old adversary, standing there holding a hot cup of coffee.

Camille is an artist who is renowned for her bold, abstract works and caustic tongue.

With a sarcastic tone, Camille remarked as she approached, "Didn't expect to see you here."

Sophia forced a tiny grin. “Hello, Camille.”

With a harsh clink, Camille placed her cup on the table and pulled up a chair without asking. "I was informed of your small agreement with Lucas Hawke."

Sophia felt her heart sink. "What are you are you talking about?"

With her eyes flaming, Camille leaned forward. “Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you. People are aware that you are now his golden girl. Interacting with billionaires and receiving all the high-profile commissions. Must feel surreal, doesn't it? For a pauper artist like you.”

The charge made Sophia furious. "That isn't the case. I put a lot of effort into getting this opposite. And I'm not a pauper artist.

"Aren't you?" Camille's tone was sharp. "Then why did you compromise for wealth and fame?"

"Keep sprouting gibberish" Sophia retorted, raising her voice. "You have no idea how hard I worked to get here."

With a sour laugh, Camille got to her feet. “Perhaps I don't. However, I am aware that you cease to be an artist and become a puppet if you associate with someone such as Lucas Hawke.”

She took her cup and left without waiting for a response, leaving Sophia dumbfounded and ashamed.

The remarks hurt because they echoed some of her worries, not because they were accurate.

Had she sacrificed her morals to succeed? Was Lucas, after all, the ally she believed him to be?

Long after Camille had left, Sophia remained at the coffee shop, attempting to make sense of the experience.

It was getting dark by the time she made her way home. With the burden of the day bearing down on her, she put her handbag down as she entered her apartment.

She was going through her mail when she noticed an envelope. It had no return address and was simple.

She opened it out of curiosity and took out one piece of paper. The words were impersonal and austere when the message was typed: "Take off now before it's too late."

She stared at the note, her hands shaking. Fear tightened its hold on her heart as it seeped into her chest. Who sent this? And for what reason were they alerting her?

Sophia's mind was buzzing with ideas. Is this connected to Lucas? Or was it someone else completely, someone whose intentions she was still unable to understand?

The heavy silence was broken by her phone buzzing on the counter. It was Lucas. Unsure whether to respond, she gazed at the screen.

However, one thing became evident as the note's contents reverberated in her mind: whatever was going on, she was more than just an artist enmeshed in a frenzied relationship.

Something much more deadly was going on around her. What did she have to do to find out?