The Interview II

Davidson's [POV]

Benedict brings Sofia to the couch opposite mine. Still not quite believing what I'm seeing, I stand up and gesture for her to take a seat.

She sits down, knees together like she's doing a photoshoot on how to sit like a lady. I reclaim my position, but sit up straight, since it's hard to do an interview while draped over a couch like a strip of limp bacon.

"So. You're Sofia," I say.

"Yes. And you must be Davidson."

"Davidson Winters." I extend my hand, hoping she'll give me her full name. If she doesn't, I'll just look at her résumé later.

"Sofia Gate."

She takes my hand and gives it a couple of good pumps. Her fingers are long, strong and incredibly soft and warm, like velvet left out in the sun.