Never A Choice (The Choices Trilogy (Book 1)) Read Online Free PDF Page A

could have made my move into the family home awkward but I have a talent for turning fragile relationships into strong friendships. Next to Sofia, Marco is my best friend.
    Marco works in the Knightsbridge restaurant with me while Sofia is studying a food and wine diploma at an exclusive private school in central London. She is happy to live at home forgoing the student experience for the utter luxury her five star home offers. She also chose not to work in the family restaurants opting instead to work at a private members club learning the hospitality and event side of catering. As the only girl she is spoiled and indulged and could have so easily become a proper princess. She can spend money like there is no tomorrow but she is generous too and she works really hard.
    I knew I was welcome to stay as long as I needed but the house was full and sharing a bed with the human starfish meant that I never slept all that well. Even though Sofia’s father kept on about not leaving me to “wander the streets” I started to look for a room as soon as I turned eighteen. Realistically sleeping on the streets wasn’t going to happen, I could afford a room it just wouldn’t be pretty and it might be a little out toward the sticks. However, one Sunday I was wiping down at the end of my shift and getting ready to leave when Sofia’s father took me upstairs, he wanted to show me what his boys had been working on. The confusion on my face must have been a picture as he laughed and led the way. Above the restaurant were two small box rooms that were too inconvenient to use for extra storage for the restaurant so had been relegated to a dumping ground for dying furniture and dead kitchen equipment.
    I stood on the threshold and was completely overwhelmed; I couldn’t take a step further when I saw what they had done for me. Sofia leapt from behind an armchair shouting surprise! That was the understatement of the year. I had no idea this was all happening above my head. The room had been cleared and painted a warm honey white. The threadbare patchy carpet had been removed and the wide wooden plank flooring had been stripped and polished. Two large chocolate and charcoal coloured rugs almost covered the entire floor but you could still see the rich polished wood around the edge.
    In the far corner below the window a book lamp illuminated a small white desk with a high backed wooden chair tucked beneath it. In the centre of the room was a two seater sofa with a huge fluffy cream coloured throw which was hiding a rather hideous seventies style geometric pattern. Next to that a faded and battered leather armchair that I recognised from Marco’s bedroom. It was a much loved piece of furniture and very comfortable. The permanent indent in the seat cushion was a testament to that. Sofia had obviously been raiding my storage boxes and sixth form art portfolio case as the walls now held two of my abstract landscapes. She had had them mounted and framed. There was also a silver framed picture of my mum when she was my age on the coffee table and a cork notice board above the desk declaring, ‘Welcome to Your New Home ☺’ in the form of a colourful homemade poster.
    Sofia came toward me and grabbed my hand, excited to show me all the improvements. The was a corner unit that acted like a kitchenette with a single ring hob, kettle and toaster. To be fair there was a much larger kitchen downstairs if I was ever feeling more adventurous than tea and toast. Behind that was a separate toilet and sink; and next to that, two smaller store cupboards had been knocked into one to provide a perfect sized bedroom. The queen sized futon bed dominated the tiny space and Sofia had hung white fairy lights all along the headboard. It looked magical. It was perfect, my new home was perfect. I was speechless and about to turn when I noticed beside the bed was a tiny framed picture. It is the follow on picture of the one I always keep in my purse. It is the photo of