Sofia
694 Words
Nothing about 613 South Street hints at the secrets inside.
It's a renovated Renaissance villa with a swish awning and a view of the Wilson Park. Definitely worth a glance. Maybe even two. But never could one guess who lives behind its doors.
Sophia and Luther O'Connor call each other a father and a daughter, but are far much more, and much less than that at the same time.
The O'Connor family has more money than they could spend in ten lifetimes. Their remarkable art collection alone is worth several million dollars. It not only includes a Lautrec and a Van Gogh, but even a painting of the most famous Venetian painter, Bellini.
A curtain flutters through opened glass terrace door as Luther enters his new residence, so he knows Sophia must be home. He doesn't bother to visit. Instead, he hangs his coat on the gilded rag and walks towards the wide white staircase, his steady steps echoing through the vast marble foyer.
As he climbs, he passes by a wall display case containing a large brooch with carved sapphires, a black powder percussion cap pistol, and a gilded ceremonial ewer. Farther away there are two swords hanging on the wall crossed in the middle and cloaked with a metal shield, resembling that of a medieval knight. On the grips of the swords there is an engraving that says O'Connor.
Luther does not pay attention to the wall collection. Instead, he digs his pants pocket to withdraw a small circular key. As he reaches the last stair, he turns left and opens the first door to enter his bedroom.
Immediately, he approaches a chest of drawers opposite of his king-sized bed with black sheets and uses the small key to unlock the very last drawer, then pushes his hand in deep. When he takes it back, there is an envelope in his hand.
He looks at it bluntly for a few moments, then sits on the edge of his bed and brings the old paper out. He slowly unfolds it as if being careful not to ruin it more than it already is, and starts reading.
It appears more of a ritual than an unforeseen gesture.
#
Sophia closes the terrace door and marches towards the exit, covering herself with a black leather jacket on the way. As she is about to grab the knob, she notices Luther's coat hanging off the rag.
He's home, she realizes. Without trying to hide and sneak like a ghost, he always seems to manage.
«Made new friends already?» she hears a frozen voice coming from afar.
She turns to find Luther standing tall atop of the staircase, leaning on the fence with his open palms. She can only see his dark silhouette from the distance. «I hadn't seen you there. Good evening, sir.»
«You weren't meant to.» Luther climbs down in a slow terrifying pace, but she waits patiently. He stops at three feet away and she now sees his cobalt blue darting eyes clearly. They seem threatening beneath his thick dark eyebrows. «So?»
She nods. «Potentially more than a friend.»
He grabs her in a swift movement. «You know I do not appreciate you w*****g around, ruining my reputation.»
She can almost hear her bones break, a very familiar sound. «We've just arrived. Nobody knows us,» she hisses through clenched teeth.
«They will soon,» he lets her go. «Everybody. And you should act accordingly unless you want to spend another summer in shackles.»
She doesn't tremble at the thought. I've been through worse, goes through her mind. «I thank you for the reminder. And I assure you I will not disgrace the name of Luther O'Connor.»
«Leeroy. How many times do I have to tell you? In this city I carry the name Leeroy,» his voice is heartless, but he doesn't raise it. «Do not make the same mistake again.»
«Certainly not. I am trained well, sir. Have no fear.»
«What a silly thing to say, Sophia. Whom should I fear?»
She raises her chin high, looking deep into his serpentine eyes.
Luther snorts with laughter. «Not even the gods, Sophia. Not even the gods.»
- Writer
