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.
