TAMED BY THE BILLIONAIRE

Sophie's pov

Setting up my new office was supposed to be exciting, but it was exhausting instead. I mean, don't get me wrong,it's my office now, and I could do whatever I wanted with it. But between peeling off the tacky floral wallpaper and arguing with the handyman about why I needed black curtains, I was already over it.

I stood in the middle of the room, hands on my hips, surveying the mess. The desk was sleek but boring, the chair looked like it came straight out of a 90s catalog, and the walls... ugh, don't even get me started.

"No, no, no," I muttered, shaking my head. "This is not Sophie Reeds energy."

"Miss Reeds?" A timid voice interrupted my silent rant.

I turned to see one of the interns poking her head in. "Yes?"

"The delivery guy's here with the new décor," she said quickly, like she was scared I'd bite her head off.

"Finally," I muttered, waving her off. "Tell him to bring everything upstairs. And don't let anyone touch the black vase, it's imported."

As soon as she left, I sat down on the edge of my temporary desk and took a deep breath. This was going to take more work than I thought. But hey, when you're Sophie Reeds, you don't do anything halfway.

Just as I reached for my planner to jot down more ideas, my phone buzzed on the desk. I glanced at the screen, expecting another call about the décor. Instead, it was Hannah.

Hannah: "Hey, are you coming?"

My heart stopped for a second. "Coming where?" I texted back, though I already knew the answer.

Her reply came almost instantly: "The memorial. I'm at the cemetery now."

The phone slipped out of my hand, landing with a dull thud on the desk. I stared at it, the words blurring before my eyes. The memorial. How could I forget?

For a moment, I just sat there, frozen. My chest tightened, and I felt the sting of tears threatening to fall. No. Not here. Not now.

Taking a shaky breath, I pushed the emotions down. My employees didn't need to see their boss crying. I grabbed my blazer and threw it on, masking my face with the same confidence I used when dealing with impossible clients.

"Everyone," I called out as I stepped into the hallway. "I need to step out for a bit. Keep working on the décor. No excuses, no slacking. I want this place to look perfect by tomorrow."

"Yes, Miss Reeds," a chorus of voices replied.

I didn't wait for any more questions. I walked out of the building, my heels clicking against the floor like a metronome, and headed straight for my car. My mom Angela reeds and my dad Matthew reeds had died in a fatal accident and the incident still looks fresh every year.

The drive to the cemetery felt like it took forever, even though it was only twenty minutes. The rain had started to drizzle, tiny drops smearing across my windshield. It felt fitting, in a way.

When I arrived, I saw Hannah standing near their graves, holding a bouquet of white lilies. She turned when she heard me, her face crumpling as soon as our eyes met.

"Sophie," she whispered, her voice breaking.

I didn't say anything. I just walked up to her, and she pulled me into a hug. That was all it took. The tears I'd been holding back spilled over, and we both broke down.

"They would be so proud of us," Hannah said through her sobs, clutching my blazer like it was a lifeline.

"Of course, they would," I replied, trying to force a smile through the tears. "I mean, look at me. I'm practically running this city."

Hannah let out a wet laugh, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. "And look at me. I'm finally dating someone Mom would've approved of. No more bad boys."

"Mom would've had him under her microscope by now," I said, my voice shaking but laced with humor.

"Dad too. He'd probably interrogate him about his five-year plan before letting him step foot in the house." Hannah replied smiling her way out of the tears

We both laughed, even as tears continued to stream down our faces. It was our thing finding humor in the pain.

I knelt down in front of their headstones, tracing the engraved names with my fingertips. "Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad," I whispered. "It's me, Sophie. Your favorite daughter."

"Your only daughter," Hannah corrected, rolling her eyes.

"Exactly," I said with a watery smirk. "I just wanted to say... I'm doing okay. I'm running my own PR firm now, and I'm working with this guy, Damien Steele. He's a nightmare, but I'll tame him. Just watch me."

Hannah chuckled softly. "And I'm taking things slow for once. You'd be proud of me, Mom. I'm not rushing into anything... well, at least not yet."

We stayed like that for a while, talking to them as if they could hear us. Sharing our progress, our dreams, and even our mistakes. It was our way of keeping them close, even though they were gone.

When the rain started coming down harder, Hannah placed the bouquet at their graves, and we stood in silence for a moment longer.

"I miss them," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the rain.

"Me too," I replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "But we're doing okay, right? We've got each other."

She nodded, leaning into me. "Yeah. We've got each other."

The drive back to the city was quiet, the rain tapping against the windows like a lullaby. My heart felt heavy, but there was a strange sense of peace too.

Life wasn't perfect. It never would be. But as long as I had Hannah and my parents' memory I knew I could handle anything. Even Damien Steele.

As we were heading home, Hannah grinned and said, "You know what? Let's stop by their favorite restaurant and grab their usual. Like Dad always says, 'If it's not the best meal, then it's not worth eating!'"

I chuckled and playfully rolled my eyes. "And of course, Mom would add, 'You mean the best meal because you're with me!'" I teased, mimicking their mom's voice perfectly. They both burst into laughter, enjoying the familiarity of their parents' playful banter.

Hannah laughed and nudged me. "You know, I can almost hear Dad arguing back, 'I knew it was the food, not you!'" she said, trying to imitate their dad's deep, amused tone.

I rolled her eyes dramatically. "And Mom would be like, 'Keep dreaming, honey. It's always me.'" i giggled, my voice light as she exaggerated our mom's sassy tone.

We exchanged knowing looks, our laughter growing louder as we both remembered countless moments of our parents' playful sparring at the dinner table. It was moments like these, full of warmth and love, that made us feel connected to our family, no matter where life took us.

"I miss them so much,"i said quietly after a moment, my smile softening.

"Yeah, me too," Hannah agreed. "But I'm glad we still get to share these little pieces of them. It's like they're with us every time we stop here."