Trust: A New Beginning

Trust - 1

by

Cristiane Serruya

To Raphaela, a hell of a daughter!

Your level of awesomeness is so high that it exceeded even my own expectations.

(Sorry, baby, couldn’t resist…)

Acknowledgements

First of all, I have to thank Margarete Bianchi. Thank you, thank you. A hundred times thank you. For believing when no one else did, for encouraging when I faltered, for your trust in my capacity.

Then, of course, my family, in ascending order:

Giovanna, my youngest daughter, I promise I’ll catch up on the time I’ve stolen from you;

Raphaela, my oldest daughter, you really helped me sort out some tricky scenes. When you grow up a bit, I promise I’ll let you read it all. (Yeah, I’ve censored it for you, baby);

Sergio, my brother and my best friend. Thank you. For drawing such amazing eyes for the cover and for your wise advice;

Jayne, my sister-in-law, for sharing my enthusiasm;

My dear husband, Raphael, sorry for the nights you slept alone. And thanks for the helping hand with the girls. You are the best, Amore;

And my parents, Lilian and Sergio, who gave me an exceptional education and the possibility to travel as much as I did. I can’t thank you enough.

I have also to thank those who worked with me closely to birth this book. Girls, you are its surrogate mothers.

Carla Kasumi Atkins, for your infinite patience in editing my baby and helping me through the tangles of the written world.

Renata Santos Fontanive, for your creativity in designing the covers and your help starting my marketing life.

Carmen Neri, for your friendship all these years and your essential help in checking the corrections with me.

And last but not least, I have to acknowledge those who didn’t believe. You kindled my fire.

Prologue

United Kingdom.

Tuesday, October 13th, 2009.

Some minutes after midnight.

London, Eaton Square.

She felt the evil approached her. Her head tossed on the pillow and her hands gripped the sheets.

No…

No!

Nooooo!

She awoke with her own screams, her right hand gripping her left scarred arm, long nails digging in.

She fumbled for her table lamp. Light flooded the room and gleamed on her square diamond ring and wedding band.

She exhaled slowly and sat on the bed. Her forehead dropped to her knees, which she drew tight to her chest as she hugged herself.

Why?

Why can’t I remember?

She rose from the bed and donned a wrap.

Padding silently to the living room, she looked at the photo of a tall, blond man and big, fat tears fell from her eyes.

London, Park Lane.

He sat on the bed, resting his back against the headboard and pillows as he raked a hand through his brown sun-kissed hair.

The woman lying beside him on the bed sighed with pleasure and curled up against his strong thigh.

He studied the gorgeous brunette clinging to him and grimaced, disgusted with himself.

Why does she keep haunting me?

Why can’t I feel anything for a woman?

Why can’t I be let myself be loved?

Scotland, Northern Highlands.

The whip lashed across the woman’s back and she screamed.

A dark smile spread over the rugged features of the dark-haired man. His arm descended again and again and again, red, angry welts imprinting on the woman’s skin.

The sound of leather against skin, feminine screams, and heavy masculine breathing filled the room.

He threw the whip away, turned the woman on the bed, and thrust into her as he tore the blindfold away.

Blue eyes stared adoringly at him. And the memory of another face masked the one in front of him.

An incredible anger surged through him and he grabbed the long blonde hair in his hands, yanking her head back.

One more whore.

One more to torment me.

Is this what I really want?

Chapter 1

London, Heathrow Airport.

Thursday, October 15th, 2009.

7 a.m.

“I’m so sorry, madam. Your flight to Switzerland has been cancelled. There is a red flag for a snowstorm.”

“Surely you can transfer me to an earlier flight. For God’s sake, we’re at Heathrow!”

“You don’t seem to understand. All earlier flights are full. I can reimburse you or reemit your ticket for another day.”

Rage coursing through her veins, Sophia almost screamed, “Listen, I have to go to Geneva or somewhere near it, today or, rather, now!

“I’m sorry, there is nothing I can do,” the attendant turned to answer another passenger’s complaint, leaving her there.

Ethan Ashford halted mid-stride and scanned the beautiful woman standing at the airline counter. A wicked smile formed on his lips. Elbowing his friend and lawyer, Leonard Allenthorp, he whispered, “My lucky day.”

“What?” Leonard stopped.

“I’m going to offer a ride to that damsel in distress.” Ethan discreetly pointed with his thumb at the young five foot six woman on his right. “See the sexy one over there, with long raven hair?”

“Oh, come on, Ashford. We’re heading to one of your most important meetings and all you can think about is screwing a woman?” Leonard scowled.

“Allenthorp, I have to give you some lessons on mixing business and pleasure,” he stalked up to the woman.

“Excuse me. I couldn’t help listening to your conversation with the attendant. I’m heading to Geneva. If you want a ride, I can help you solve your problem.”

Sophia half turned at the sound of the voice and was rewarded with the view of a large chest and broad shoulders immaculately dressed in a tailored dark blue suit, crisp white shirt, and blood- red tie.

Sophia bit her lower lip and craned her neck to look at his face. Oh. My. God. Mesmerizing eyes of startling Mediterranean Sea blue were staring at her. Azure eyes. A white, perfect smile slashed his tanned, bearded features. Light brown sun kissed hair neatly cut and combed back.

“I beg your pardon?” she breathed. “Mr. ah…”

“I apologize. Ethan Ashford, at your service.”

Oh, damn. Ashford Steel Industries.

“Nice to meet you, Miss…” he said, with a wolfish smile curling his lips.

“Mrs. Santo. Mrs. Sophia Santo,” she said, eyeing Ethan with clear distrust.

“So, Sophia,” her name left his lips as a caress, “care to accept my offer?” He dipped his voice a tone, eyes turning a deep dark blue. They seemed to pierce her soul. She had never seen intense eyes like these.

“I don’t understand. A ride?” The offer astonished Sophia. Uh-oh. Something is wrong here. A tall, muscular, handsome, and extremely rich man is offering me a plane ride? For free? In the middle of Heathrow Airport? Why me? Why now?

She stepped backwards and bumped into a firm chest. A loud bang was heard as two hands grasped her arms, steadying her. She spun on her heels and saw another man, looking a little older, shorter, and leaner than the first but no less interesting. Leonard Allenthorp, ‘The Lawyer Duke.’ What is happening?

A chill ran through Sophia’s spine. “I’m sorry,” she blurted.

“It’s okay.” He bent down and picked up his briefcase.

She saw an easy smile, kind blue eyes, and dark blond hair, graying at the temples. He stretched his hand, in a friendly way, saying, “Leonard Allenthorp. How do you do, Mrs. Santo? What my friend said is that we’re heading to Geneva in ten minutes, in a private jet, and if you’re willing, we’ve got space for you.”

He looked at her and down at his outstretched hand, as if daring her to shake it.

“How much?” Sophia blurted, with a frown.

He looked confused, “It’s a free ride we’re offering. It’s Mr. Ashford’s private jet.”

Sophia took a deep breath, gathering courage. As she was well aware, everything in life had a price but she needed to go to Geneva today.

“Thanks, I accept,” she shook the outstretched hand, smiling a little, trying to relax. She had nothing to fear from this man.

A deep voice purred from behind her, in her right ear, “It will be my pleasure.”

That man, Ethan, he unnerved her. Sophia steeled herself.

Leonard made a small gesture with his hand. “Shall we go? We don’t want to meet the snowstorm in midair.”

She put her turquoise Chanel bag on her shoulder and caught the handle of her carry-on.

“Do you want help with your luggage?” Ethan offered.

“No. Thanks.”

She watched Ethan surreptitiously as she walked between the men. He had the inborn firmness of those who know how to achieve things in life. He wore a dark blue three-piece suit perfectly tailored to show off his strong body. Gucci black shoes. He carried nothing, not even a briefcase. A man who demanded perfection, even from himself.

On her other side, Leonard kept pace. Almost as tall as Ethan. Sophia knew he was about to turn thirty-five. She had just read an article about him in the Sunday Magazine. His clothes were also expensive; however, he used them in an effortless way. If she didn’t know better, she would say he was harmless. She sensed he was a man she would like to befriend.

“I have to thank you for the ride,” Sophia smiled at Ethan. “I should have imagined that something like this could happen. We’re having such terrible and unstable weather this year.”

“Yes, we are,” he agreed. “Have you kept abreast of the floods in northern England?”

Sophia nodded.

“Awful, isn’t it?” Leonard said quietly. “My brother-in-law had serious problems on his property.”

At passport control, Ethan quirked an eyebrow at Sophia when she didn’t follow them. She just smiled back. He shrugged and followed Leonard.

The police officer did his work quickly and handed the passport back to her, with a big smile, saying, with a heavy British accent, “Bom dia.”

Really, there is nothing cuter than Portuguese spoken with an accent. Sophia grinned back, saying, “Obrigada.”

Ethan eyed her document with interest when she tucked it back in her bag.

“This way, Sophia,” he motioned.

They went through an empty corridor.

Downstairs and outside the building was a new silver-and-black Gulfstream G650. Next to the carpet on the tarmac by the stairs, the captain waited to welcome them.

At the top of the stairs, a good-looking flight attendant smiled. She wore a tight, black-and-white uniform, “Good morning, ma’am. May I take your luggage and coat?”

“Yes, thank you.” Sophia handed over her carry-on and her navy overcoat.

The attendant’s smile broadened and she melted at the sight of Ethan. “Mr. Ashford, a pleasure to see you again.”

Ethan smiled back, “Good morning, Vanessa.”

Vanessa turned to greet Leonard, “Mr. Allenthorp, good morning.”

Leonard nodded at her, “Vanessa.”

Every detail had been chosen with care. All the seats were handcrafted with genuine black leather with white-and-gray hues for the carpet and other decorative touches. It was very masculine, subtly stylish. The inside of the airplane resembled its owner.

Sophia walked past single seats facing each other. Halfway down the aisle, there was a four-place mahogany conference table with double seats on each side. She sat on one of the double seats, next to the window, putting her bag on the seat on the aisle. Leonard leveled a look at her and smiled as he noticed the maneuver, seating himself on the other side, opposite her. Sophia noted that all modern technologies were at hand, as in a fully functional office.

At the rear, a three-seat black divan with gray-and-black striped silk pillows faced a mahogany credenza topped with a wide-screen plasma TV.

“Mr. Ashford, may I fix you your drink?”

“What are you drinking, Sophia?” Ethan politely asked.

“Water. Sparkling, thank you.”

“The same for me, Ashford,” Leonard added.

“Vanessa, please, water for Mrs. Santo and Mr. Allenthorp. The usual for me,” he leaned on the table, two big hands flattened, to look at Sophia. “Want a tour before takeoff?”

“A tour?” She eyed him, amused, a playful smile on her lips. “What for?”

“I can show you the cockpit and” his eyes flashed, “the stateroom.” He ended in a husky voice, “It’s quite comfortable.”

Sophia laughed to hide her embarrassment, “No, thank you. I’m good here.”

He cocked one eyebrow at her, but said nothing more, easing his six foot three stature on the seat beside Leonard.

The flight attendant served the water and a tomato juice for Ethan, put some mixed nuts and canapés on the table between them, and vanished from the cabin. The captain announced takeoff. It was smooth and elegant.

“Portuguese, aren’t you?” Ethan said with sureness, starting the conversation.

She laughed, shaking her head.

“No?” He was puzzled, “But your passport… Your answer to the officer…”

“So?” She raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

Sophia could see that Leonard, documents in front of him and head lowered, was paying attention to the conversation.

“All right,” she blurted. “Let’s see if you can guess where I’m from, one chance each.”

Instantly, Leonard’s head came up from the documents. “This isn’t fair. Three each.”

“Uh-uh. One.”

“Two,” said Ethan.

“Hmm. Five guesses,” she mused, “the odds might turn against me.”

“Five?”

“Yes, Ashford. You have already said she’s from Portugal.”

“Well, wasn’t it obvious?”

“Nothing is obvious in life, Mr. Ashford,” said Sophia smiling, with mischief. “But, let’s make a deal. If you don’t guess, and mind you, you’re not going to, I’ll give you one more chance each, agreed?”

“Agreed,” they said at the same time.

“And if we win, Sophia?” Ethan asked hoarsely. “What’s the prize? Willing to wager a dinner with the winner?”

“As I’m sure you’re not going to win, let’s settle for lunch, us three. No winner. Deal?”

“Deal. Please, call me Ethan.”

“Mr. Allenthorp, you’re willing to go first?”

She was having a good time. She couldn’t believe her luck. She had succeeded in going to Geneva, in a luxury private plane in the company of such interesting men.

“Okay. Let’s see… Not Portuguese. Although with a Portuguese passport. With clear Latin heritage. I would say you’re… Italian.”

“Good, Mr. Allenthorp. Very good. But, no!”

She turned to Ethan, waiting.

“Not Portuguese, not Italian. Very black hair, light skin, hazel almond eyes.” He narrowed his eyes and grinned at her, “Curvaceous, sexy.” He mused, “Hmm… I dare say Spanish.”

“Why! Thank you,” she giggled. “But you’re far from it, Mr. Ashford.”

“It’s Ethan. Drop the Mr. Ashford.”

“Told you that you wouldn’t guess.” She smiled. “One more chance each. Think carefully before you answer.”

“Not Portuguese, Italian, or Spanish. I’d bet that you’re not from the Nordic countries,” Leonard looked at her, assessing her face. “Not American, for sure.” He paused. Observed her again and whispered to himself, “No, it can’t be. Skin is too light. Speaks perfect English, without an accent.”

“Greek,” Ethan guessed and he shook his head to dislodge the beautiful face that appeared in his mind, making acid burn in his throat.

Sophia smiled, “I’m flattered. Greek women are known for their beauty. But, again no.” Her mouth twisted at the corners. “Mr. Allenthorp, you still have one more chance.”

“Please, just Leonard,” he waved his hand, distractedly, his eyebrows furrowed, immerse in thought.

“Come on, Allenthorp,” Ethan coached.

He wasn’t really sure, but he went for it any way, “Brazilian. Rio de Janeiro or São Paulo.”

She stared at him, openmouthed, “Why, yes. Exactly. Rio. How did you guess?”

“My dear, in my profession we have to be very attentive to detail. You hinted I made a point when I alleged Italian. You have a Portuguese passport. I started putting the pieces together. Where are there lots of Portuguese and Italians? South America. Brazil. You do look like a Carioca that has been out of the sun for a long time. Except you dress like a Paulista.”

“Impressive, Leonard, impressive,” she murmured. “Have you been to Brazil before?”

“Well, I have that advantage,” he smiled at her. “I’ve been there three times; first to Rio on my honeymoon and twice later to São Paulo for work. Why do you have a Portuguese passport?”

“Two of my grandparents are Portuguese and they’ve lived in Brazil since they were children. I also have Italian heritage somewhere on both my parents’ lines.”

“Your husband is also Brazilian?” Leonard asked.

Sophia blanched, her face turned ashen and her right hand shot to grab her upper left arm. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. When she opened them, the raw pain that simmered on them surprised the men.

She managed a weak smile, “I’m not married. Not anymore.” She took another deep breath, “I’m a widow.”

Leonard looked at her with sympathy in his eyes, “I’m sorry, Sophia, you look too young to be a widow. Nonetheless, you use a band on your left finger.”

She gave a strangled laugh, “Death doesn’t ask your age when it decides to strike.” She gave him a small smile, “As far as my marriage band is concerned, it helps keep men at bay.”

He looked at her for a few seconds. “Maybe.” Then returned his attention to the documents.

“So, Sophia, you live in Brazil?”

Grateful for the change in the conversation, she replied, “No, Mr. Ashford, I live in London.”

“We’ve returned to the Mr. Ashford thing, haven’t we?

“Sorry. Ethan,” she acquiesced.

“And where do you study?”

Sophia laughed out loud with such enthusiasm, that Ethan frowned at her.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m not a student anymore. Well, not an undergraduate student,” she smiled. “I’m Mr. Allenthorp’s colleague,” she jutted her chin at Leonard.

Again Leonard’s head came up, “Leonard. I think you’ve turned the tables, I’m at a disadvantage now.”

She laughed mischievously. “You see, Leonard, we have crossed paths in court.”

“Impossible. I would have remembered you.”

“Oh,” she mocked, “should I thank you for this remark?”

“Of course. You’re a beautiful woman.”

“Now, I’m offended.” She rolled her eyes. “I prefer to be remembered by my intelligence and wit.”

He laughed. “Sorry, Sophia.” He shuffled his documents together, giving up his work and putting it away so Ethan could close the table.

Ethan closed the table. Rearranging himself on the seat, he crossed his legs, the right ankle resting on the left knee.

“So, pray tell, where have you been spying on me?”

“Spying, Leonard? You don’t necessarily hide yourself. Besides, you’re a well-known lawyer. Your summations gather quite a crowd at court. And, well,” she grinned again, “I have taken my best students twice this year to make a study of your cases.”

“I’m flattered,” Leonard answered.

“Oh, no,” Ethan said sardonically, “a lawyer and a lecturer. Not possible, you don’t look older than… Hmm, nineteen.”

She merely smiled.

“Oh, come on. It’s not polite to ask a woman her age, but how old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Still very young. Where do you lecture?”

“Cambridge University.”

The men were flabbergasted.

“At Cambridge…” Leonard muttered. “What do you lecture?”

“I’m just a temporary lecturer in criminal law,” she dismissed her accomplishment. “When I took my master’s courses at Cambridge, I did pro bono work for women in Brazil and I’m also involved in it here.” She got excited, “You see, I was involved with the creation of a law to protect women from domestic violence perpetrated by their companions. I really loved the experience. After that, I dedicated myself to work with disadvantaged women who couldn’t defend themselves in court, not only in cases related to domestic violence. I think women still have a very hard time living with so many expectations. They dug a very deep hole for themselves and now they’re trying to sort things out…” she trailed off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you.”

“No,” interjected Leonard, “not at all. It is a very interesting subject.”

“When you speak of women you don’t include yourself,” Ethan remarked. “Why?”

“I’m privileged. I really don’t have any major problems,” she smiled and waved her long, elegant hand minimizing her difficulties. As if… “But pro bono doesn’t pay the bills, does it, Leonard?”

He laughed, “No. What is your specialty?”

“My specialty is oil; mergers and acquisitions, finance, corporate governance, you know…” she grinned. “This pays the bills. But I can’t let go of the pro bono work. It’s an obsession. So I volunteered as a helper.” Okay, it’s not entirely a lie. My foundation is kind of pro bono.

“And you do pro bono in family law, too?” Leonard asked.

“No. I abhor family law.”

“Don’t you like it? Why not?”

Her face hardened and her voice turned icy, “As a rule, people tend to forget the most important things in life when money, power and, lust are involved.”

Leonard tilted his head, “What do you consider the most important things in life?”

“Love, friendship, and family,” she narrowed her eyes to slits. “Wait! I’m missing one. Respect.”

“Beautiful words,” Leonard murmured.

“People with morals and principles don’t fight over peanuts and use children as cannon fodder. What I’ve seen at these kinds of proceedings makes me want to vomit,” she inhaled and exhaled slowly. “That is why I don’t do it.”

“You’re a dreamer, Sophia,” Ethan said cynically. “This is real life. Few have those scruples.”

“Have you been married or have children?”

“No. I don’t need to. I know what life and people are made of.”

“Well, it seems that I have been luckier than you,” she sneered. “My marriage was very, very happy - as were the marriages of my grandparents, my parents, my brother, and some friends. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. Real life.”

“You must have married very young,” Ethan murmured. “Maybe you had luck.”

“Possibly,” she examined her manicured long dark blood-red nails. “Maybe I had luck; maybe I’m a dreamer.” She smiled brightly at the men. “But if one stops believing in dreams, life loses its meaning, loses its colors.”

Ethan appraised Sophia, discreetly. She wore a turquoise and white Chanel suit. Underneath, the light-green silk shirt opened to show enticing cleavage. Her high-heel boots were marine leather.

He wanted her.

She’ll be mine. “Where are you staying in Geneva?”

“At a hotel,” she licked her lips.

And Ethan shifted in his seat. He cleared his throat, “And this hotel has a name?”

“You’re very curious, aren’t you, Ethan?” she chuckled.

Not normally. “Quite. Does it have a name or not?”

“Oui, bien sur, c’est le Domaine de Châteauvieux, un très petite hôtel au coeur de la campagne-” She thinned her lips and shook her head, her big white-gold diamond hoops swinging. “I’m, sorry, it’s…”

“I speak French perfectly. I understood you.” Such a beautiful accent, Sophia.

Sophia heard Leonard’s low chuckle and smiled too, “I bet. But I hate when I mix languages.”

“It happens,” Ethan set aside her fault.

“Not to me,” she grimaced. “Hasn’t it happened to you? Having to speak with two, three people of different nationalities at the same time?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.” Ethan frowned, “Maybe it has, yes.”

“How many languages do you speak?” Leonard asked.

“A few,” she dismissed it with a flick of her hand and crossed her long legs.

Ethan’s eyes followed the movement. “How many? Humor me,” he insisted.

“I’m fluent in six. You see, I’ve always had an aptness for languages, so it was quite easy to learn them. Besides, I studied at the British school and had a French governess. So Portuguese, English, and French are my native languages. The rest came easy. Italian and Spanish are very similar to Portuguese. German was a passion,” she shrugged, modestly. “How many do you speak?”

“You have me there. I only speak four: English, French, Italian, and Greek. I can understand and speak a little bit of Spanish, but I’m not fluent in it,” Ethan replied.

Sophia looked at Leonard waiting for his reply.

“Five: Italian, French, German, English, and Spanish. My mother’s Spanish; my father was English. You’re a great asset,” he raised an eyebrow, “interested in a partnership?”

“Your offer is an honor, but I already work with a lawyer,” she winked at Leonard.

“Where do you work?”

“I work with Professor Holbrook.” Yeah, he is my supervisor at Cambridge.

“From Holbrook and Barton?”

“Ah… Yes.” Sophia, be careful.

“Where did Holbrook find you?” Leonard asked. “He’s a friend. We have a kind of partnership. How long have you been working there?”

“Let’s say I found him,” she answered cryptically. Try to keep lies as truthful as possible.

“You came to see a client in Geneva?” Ethan asked.

“No.”

“Are you here on business?” he insisted.

“Yes. But I don’t usually talk about business except with the client, Ethan,” Sophia replied, her expression serious.

“Can’t or won’t?” Ethan insisted.

“Neither. I don’t, period,” she kept staring at him, lips thinning.

“Ashford, you know we must follow some rules,” Leonard intervened.

“Oh, Allenthorp, sometimes you’re too boring,” Ethan huffed. “You like to keep things in the dark, don’t you, Sophia?”

Sophia took her time to answer. She drank her water, licked her lips, and bit the lower one, totally unaware of the effect this had on the man in front of her.

Ethan felt the blood run hotter in his veins and he gripped the arm of his seat harder.

She played with a lock of her hair, twisting it around her finger and curled up her lips slightly, “Things are more exciting when one unveils them bit by bit. One loses interest fast when they’re too easy.”

They landed at Geneva International Airport fifty minutes after takeoff. The flight hadn’t been as bad as they expected as the snowstorm waited for their arrival to hit.

They hurried inside the building, laughing, all composure lost in the frosty air. The temperature had dropped to below zero and the snow was already falling heavily.

“So, can I give you a ride back to London? I’m leaving tomorrow at three o’clock, possibly four, if that’s okay for you.”

“No, thank you, don’t worry,” she smiled at him, her cheeks rosy from the cold.

“You didn’t like my company,” he teased.

“I didn’t say that, Ethan,” she grinned at him, “I’m not flying back tomorrow. I have many important things to do. They’ll take time.”

“Are you going to spend the weekend here? When are you returning? I can wait for you.”

“No, thanks,” she said firmly but with a charming smile, “I don’t want to be a burden.” She pushed the sleeve of her suit to look at her Santos 100 Skeleton watch. “I have to go.”

Ethan’s hand shot forward and gently held her left wrist. “I like your watch. It’s quite a masterpiece.” He turned her arm from right to left. “It’s not common to see a woman using this kind of watch.”

“This kind of watch?” she parroted, intrigued.

“Indeed. It’s a very masculine watch. The watch is too large for your delicate wrist.”

“Well, I normally wear masculine watches. I think they complement my wrist. You see, they’re perfect opposites. My wrist is fragile and small, breakable; the watch is sturdy, large, and made to last,” she smiled and extricated her wrist from his grip.

“You’re a bold woman, aren’t you?” his eyes sparkled.

Sophia didn’t answer, smiling and saying, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ethan. Thank you very much for the pleasant flight.” She took a card out of her wallet, but put it back and searched for a different one.

Leonard exchanged looks with Ethan and he chuckled. She was dismissing Ethan.

“Here,” she handed a card to each man and tucked the men’s into her wallet. “Leonard, it was an honor. Call me next week to collect your lunch. I pick the place. Take care.”

With those final words, she turned and walked away.

Ethan stood there, staring at the gentle sway of Sophia’s hips, thinking of the many ways he wanted to have her, of the many places: in the plane, at his office, in his bed. He shifted from one foot to another, trying to ease the discomfort between his legs.

The flight had been a torture. Sitting in front of her, smelling that goddamn sweet scent that wafted from her, wanting to touch, to feel, to taste and not being able to… Jesus. She’s intelligent, bright, and lovely; I have to give in, she’s not like the others. And most of all, she has fire. I’m sure. It’s just unlit or smothered. But then, I’ve always loved playing with fire.

“Allenthorp,” said Ethan, slowly shaking his head, trying to dispel the fog of desire that clouded his brain.

“Yes?” answered Leonard, noticing the resolute way the woman marched through the corridors of Geneva Airport. He looked again at the card and murmured to himself, “Strange, the contact is not from Holbrook & Taylor’s.”

“She will return with me. I will see to it,” Ethan decided.

“Wanna bet? A thousand pounds she won’t,” he rolled his eyes, amused.

“Done,” he said, punching his friend’s arm lightly. “Prepare the check.”

Ethan Ashford’s laughter rang in the air of Geneva Airport as heads turned to look at the stunning pair of businessmen, one dark and one fair.

Yes, I love playing with fire.

Chapter 2

Switzerland, Geneva.

Outside Geneva International Airport.

8.17 a.m.

What a lucky strike of fate that I met Ethan Ashford. If not for him, I wouldn’t have made it today. Next time, I’ll schedule my flights more carefully. Sophia grinned, happy, and going in the direction of the driver she usually had at her disposal.

“Monsieur Didier, bonjour. How are you?” She gave him a bright smile.

“Madame Leibowitz, good morning. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” The elegant, middle-aged man smiled at her. “Let me help you.”

He picked up her Louis Vuitton carry-on and headed to the parking lot toward a parked black Mercedes S600 Pullman Guard. He opened the rear door for her and waited as she settled herself, closing it quietly. Rounding the car, he opened the other door and put her carry-on on the floor beside her, as she liked it.

Sitting behind the steering wheel, he asked. “Where to, madam?

“Well, I’m early for my meeting, so I thought I’d check in first, monsieur.”

“Bien sur. Domaine de Châteauvieux, as always?”

“Yes. Do you know if my sister and brother have arrived?”

“They arrived yesterday evening. I picked them up myself at the airport.”

“Great.” She rang her brother’s iPhone.

“Hi, sis.” His mellifluous voice came through to her over the speaker.

“Felipe,” Sophia felt tears well up in her eyes when she heard his voice, “how I’ve missed you. I’ve just arrived. How are you and Valentina? Why didn’t you call me yesterday? Do you like the hotel? Have you already seen the floor plans? And the photos?”

“As always, so many questions,” He laughed. “Yes, we love the hotel; we have seen the floor plans, they’re sensational; we have seen the photos, they’re disgusting. However, Valentina and I are sure we can fix and restore every inch that was redecorated; we didn’t call you because we arrived late and we were quite tired and jet lagged. Have you forgotten how long it takes to fly here from Brazil? Besides, a very demanding client wanted a report for today. You know her perhaps?”

“Sorry, but it’s just that I’m so excited to see you again that I forgot.”

“I think you’re excited to buy your new house,” he teased, chuckling.

“Felipe!” She heard Valentina laughing. “Tell Val that after I sign the deed, we’re going skiing for a couple of hours. Be ready. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

It seemed eons ago that they had been doing something together like this. Her family lived scattered around the world. It had been so much easier when they were younger.

Sophia relaxed against the comfortable beige seat, enjoying the view. Geneva was one of her favorite places. Its Mediterranean-like atmosphere, its bustling streets, and many shaded squares invited her to stroll. The contrasts of the city, the way it stands unchanged next to the lake, the familiar water jet spouting the beautiful column of water and the possibility of seeing Mont Blanc on a clear day.

I still remember clearly the first time I visited here. It had been a month after her parents’ death, when her grandparents sent her and her younger sister, Carolina, to a boarding school in Lausanne for a year. Her grandmother Angelica had stayed two weeks in Geneva to buy clothes and all the material the school requested. She’d pampered them and given in to their every whim. They had made many friends and the fierce pain had been smoothened away.

Sophia arrived at the hotel, an old vineyard farmhouse transformed into a palace of elegance. Sophia’s mouth watered just thinking of the wondrous food she would taste at dinner prepared by Monsieur Chevrier, the owner and superb chef.

When she exited the car, one of her gorgeous twin sisters ran outside to embrace her.

No one could have guessed that Valentina and Sophia were sisters. Sophia was dark haired and of average height, while Valentina was blonde, blue eyed, slender, petite, and an exact copy of their mother.

“Sophia, how I’ve missed you. How are you?” She kissed her and stood back to look at her. “You’re looking much better. You looked like a hag last time.”

“Great to know your thoughts, my dear sister.” Her sarcasm not lost on Valentina.

“Sorry, darling.” She smiled and shrugged. “What can I do if the truth hurts?”

Sophia smiled back. Valentina never was diplomatic. “Come on, let’s get inside. It’s freezing.” They locked arms and entered the hotel, chattering.

“Felipe told me that you liked the floor plans and that you think you can repair the house.”

“Yes,” she brimmed, “I’m going to love working on this project, Sophia. Your house will be my calling card. I have to show you our first ideas.”

“Where is Felipe?”

“In your suite. It has a big dining table. We have been working there since yesterday evening.”

Sophia stopped Valentina with a hand on her arm and asked seriously, “How is he?”

Valentina frowned. “He doesn’t speak of her anymore, Sophia, but he is tortured, haunted by her. You, better than anyone, know how it feels to lose someone you love. I think his case is similar to yours.”

“He still blames himself?”

“How could he not?”

“Val! He wasn’t guilty!” The way her sister treated such a serious matter shocked Sophia.

“And you were?”

Sophia looked at her hands and bit her lip. “It’s different. They confessed they didn’t want Gabriel; that they wanted me. He died because of me.” She blinked to whisk away the tears that gathered in her eyes. “There was no way Felipe could have prevented her death. The truck hit on her side. The guy slept at the wheel. Felipe wasn’t guilty, Val.”

“I know, I know,” she shrugged. “But he doesn’t. Her photos are still all over the flat. Worse, Renata’s family calls him all the time.” Valentina shook her head. “I guess it’s hard to overcome something when it keeps turning up.”

“Even if it doesn’t.” Sophia’s eyes saddened. “Believe me.”

Felipe, who was absorbed in making notes on the floor plans spread over the dining table, didn’t notice his sisters enter the room.

Sophia paused at the door, using the moment to look at her beloved brother. Felipe could have been her twin if not for the age difference, exactly six years, and the big shock of white hair that marred his silky, raven hair. She remembered how shaken she had been when that lock had started to grow, days after the car crash. The accident left a thin scar on the left side of his forehead, starting at the hairline slashing down to his eyebrow, giving his too handsome face the appearance of a pirate. He was six feet four and had a spectacular body.

When younger and single, he had his fair share of women. They used to fall at his feet. As a widower now, they still did, but he wasn’t as interested anymore.

When she stepped in the room, he looked up from the plans. His beautiful honeyed eyes twinkled with joy.

“Sophia.” He opened his arms and she threw herself in them, hugging him tightly. “How are you, sis?”

So filled with emotion, Sophia couldn’t speak. She nodded, head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He was her favorite sibling, her closest friend. The one she trusted most. He was calm and kind.. Nothing seemed to unsettle him, but Sophia knew better. He had learned to disguise his emotions very well since their parents died. Too well for his own good. After Renata died, he donned a mask and only took it off occasionally, with Sophia.

“Hey, everything okay?” He looked down at her, worried.

With one final hug, she let him go. “I miss you so much. We don’t even talk on the phone anymore.” Tears rimmed her eyes. Oh, hell.

“Hush. Let me look at you.” Felipe accessed Sophia, his thumbs drying away her tears. “Hmm… Much better!”

“Told you so!” Valentina said from behind her.

Sophia rolled her eyes. Yes, I look better on the outside.

“Gabriela sends you kisses and hugs.” She tried to turn the issue away from her.

Felipe, as always, read her thoughts. “How have you been doing? The truth, please.”

She shrugged and stepped away. “Better, I think. It helps to be away from Rio. Out of sight, out of mind, you know?”

“Indeed.” The pain that shadowed his life flickered briefly on his face. It disappeared after a second.

“And you?” She cleared her throat. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Working a lot. Fabio has signed a new contract with a health insurance company. We’re going to refurbish four hospitals and two laboratories for them. I miss your lawyer skills. They were very handy when I had a contract like that to analyze.”

She stared into his eyes and knew she wasn’t going to receive the answer she wanted. If another person was in the room, even one of their sisters or grandmother, he never spoke about his feelings. “You can always send them to me by e-mail. You know it’s always a pleasure to help you.”

“We’ve hired a law firm. The business is really becoming too big for me to handle the legal side alone.”

“That’s good,” she smiled at him. “I’m glad to hear. How are Grandma and Carolina?”

“Well, you know those two. Always bickering and always making peace right away.” They laughed together.

“Carolina is dating an American.” His face clouded. “His name is Thomas Drake Westwood.”

“Really?” Sophia sounded surprised. Carolina never went out on dates. “You don’t approve of him.”

“He’s too old for her and a Hollywood film producer.”

“I’ve heard of him. He’s quite a morsel.”

Sophia smiled when Felipe tsked at Valentina’s comment. “How much older?”

“Ten or eleven years.”

“Now, Felipe, you’re being prejudiced. Gabriel was nearly fourteen years older than me and was the best thing that could have happened in my life.”

“Don’t compare the two. Gabriel was special.”

An unhappy grin flashed over Sophia’s features, “Yes, he was.”

“Stop being the older brother, Felipe. Carol is twenty-three,” Valentina pondered and smirked, “I’m glad she’s found someone at last.”

He laughed. “Well, I’m the older brother. And the only one you have! Best heed my advice.” He frowned and turned to Sophia. “I haven’t explained myself well. There is something about him… He’s… too friendly and… there is something weird when he looks at people, as if they were specimens under a microscope. I don’t know how to define it. In any case, I’ve talked to her, but you know Carol.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Sophia turned to the floor plans. “So do you think the house is worth its price? How long will all the work take? What’s the estimate?” She practically hopped from one foot to another.

“My God, Sophia, slow down,” Valentina said, “I don’t know why you’re constantly in such a hurry. These things take time.”

“Life is too short to waste time, my dear. One day you will learn that. You’re too young to understand.”

“Too young? Sophia, I’m seventeen years old.”

“An old woman,” Felipe teased.

“Maybe I’m the one who’s too old.” Sophia sighed deeply and hugged herself, her shoulders sagging.

“Hey! I only want to see smiles this weekend,” Felipe ordered.

Sophia managed to give him a small smile. Do as I say, not as I do. Typical of Felipe.

In a meeting room of the Grand Hotel Kempinski Geneva.

12.54 p.m.

Daydreaming, Sophia’s image haunted Ethan. She is stunning. Slightly tanned skin; almond eyes. Mmm, her mouth is a delicious shade of red. Her hair falls sinfully over her breasts. I bet they would fill my hands…

“Mr. Ashford, don’t you agree that this new turn of events in the Afghanistan War demands a postponement of a few months, let’s say, eight to twelve months to start our first payment? We know that your shipment will arrive on time. We don’t know if we will manufacture, contact, and distribute our products in the expected time, so you see, we need to delay our first payment,” the head of the Arab team at the end of the table put forth.

“Oh, yes-”

Leonard interrupted Ethan. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I need a moment with my client. Mr. Ashford, if you will just follow me into the adjoining room?” Leonard requested.

When he closed the door of the smaller room, Leonard exploded in a low voice. “What got into you today? Goddamn it! I have been conducting this fucking meeting for at least two hours, all on my own. The first time the motherfuckers speak to you… worse, speak to you with an unreasonable demand, you give in without even looking at me? What’s your problem, Ashford?”

“I’m sorry, Allenthorp. I didn’t hear the proposal. My mind was elsewhere,” Ethan excused himself, with a grimace.

“You should be sorry,” Leonard sighed. “It’s the woman, isn’t it? Yes, she’s quite distracting.” A small smile crossed Leonard’s face. “Nonetheless, we cannot afford distractions here,” he sighed. “Now, you know how these guys are about to pledge honor and blah, blah, blah. How many months are you willing to give them?”

“Give them ten days. Of course, they’ll bargain for more. I cannot give them more than one month. I’m sure they’ll be satisfied with that.”

“I’m willing to bet your absentmindedness is going to extend the meeting for at least twenty-four hours beyond the anticipated. Just because of a woman. I should charge you more for this.” Leonard grinned, “In fact, I will.” He put his hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn it. “Forget her for a few hours. I will not be held responsible for any new problem. Let’s get on with this.”

Quai General Guisan.

1.37 p.m.

Sophia shook Mr. Brenton’s hand outside the bank. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, sir.”

“My pleasure, young lady. And, please, if you meet Juliette,” he looked down a second, as if ashamed, “don’t mention how and where we finished our transaction. She only knows about the first part of the payment you made in London.”

“Don’t worry. Take care, Mr. Brenton.” I hope I never meet that bitch again.

“You too, my dear. I hope you’ll be happy in your new house.”

Sophia stood there looking as the old man entered his car, snowflakes falling delicately on her gray felt hat. When it turned the corner, Sophia jumped into Felipe’s arms. “I did it. I did it.”

“Yes, you did. Congratulations. Now, you had better take me to a restaurant. I’m starving.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve made reservations for us at l’Auberge du Lion d’Or and asked for a special Krug champagne.”

“Hmm! Felipe, prepare yourself. Sophia has chosen well,” said Valentina from behind.

Sophia turned and hugged her sister, too happy to care if she was making a scene.

Sophia called her driver and in a few minutes they were seated at a table beside a huge window with a clear view of Lake Geneva.

“I don’t think we’re going skiing this afternoon, Sophia,” Felipe smiled at his sister, a hand on his flat stomach. They had been drinking, eating and catching up for more than three hours.

Valentina licked her lips. “Everything here is scrumptious. My oven-roasted cod was more than delicious.”

“Yeah. But I’m happy that I’m not sleeping with you tonight. All that garlic, Val! Ugh!”

“I’m not sleeping with Felipe again,” Valentina stared at her brother and taunted, “he snores.”

“I do not!”

“You do, too,” Valentina pouted, “I want to sleep with you, Sophia.”

“You know I only sleep alone, dear.” Sophia squeezed Valentina’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Still having nightmares?” Felipe asked.

Sophia handed him her flute, “Can you pour me some more champagne, please?” evading the question.

“Sure. This champagne is quite tasty. It’s the first time I’ve tried this one.”

“You’ve never had Clos D’Ambonnay before?” Sophia smiled. “I first tried it on my honeymoon. I fell in love with it. All of Krug’s champagnes are aged for at least six years in theirs cellars. The grapes are handpicked and pressed.” She tasted her champagne. “They still ferment in oak.” She smiled at him, sheepishly. “It was perfect for my roast supreme of sea bass but your Scottish Angus beef merited a red wine.”

“It doesn’t matter. You know I love red meat.” Felipe’s eyes gleamed with admiration. “You’ve become a very refined woman, Sophia.”

“It’s not difficult to like these kinds of things, you know. Gabriel was a good teacher.” She smiled softly, fond of the memory. “The Krug caves in Reims are absolutely sensational.”

“When you live in Europe it’s so much easier to learn and access these kinds of luxuries.”

“Yes, but then it also depends on personality, Val. Sophia has always been refined. She has always been special.” Felipe gripped Sophia’s hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles. “Sophia cooks as few women do. You eat like most.”

Sophia giggled and Valentina pouted.

“The truth is that Sophia has always been the apple of your eye. And you, hers.” Valentina complained.

“And you’re jealous!” Sophia made a face and held Valentina’s hand. “There’s no reason, little sister, because you and your twin, Vic, are our favorites.”

The dessert arrived. “You’re about to taste the most delicious dessert in the world.” Sophia licked her lips.

“I don’t know how you are so thin, Sophia. You have such a sweet tooth.” Valentina sulked.

“I don’t sit idle all day like you, dear. I wake up early. I run, swim, workout and ride. Every day.” She dipped her spoon in the warm ultralight soufflé with lime-skin and a scoop of vanilla, delicately positioned on a disc of chocolate. “Mmm!”

“Valentina does only the bare minimum,” Felipe commented, “she isn’t like us, Sophia.”

With a devilish smile, Sophia teased, “It’s the blonde hair. It causes-”

Felipe laughed. Valentina threw her napkin at Sophia, scowling. “Both of you stop! I have to study to graduate.”

“Excuses, excuses. You’re lazy and you know it,” Sophia declared. “Let’s see if you have really been studying… How long will the renovation take?”

“Well, it depends on what you want done. We came up with a timetable to discuss with the architect who’s going to supervise the job.”

“I did some designs on the floor plan I have and I will show you in London. Mostly, I want modifications in the rooms at the back of the house and the kitchen.” Sophia tilted her head to the side, musing, “Also, I want another full changing room at the pool lounge. I want rooms, with an independent entrance, for my staff on the third floor.” She ate another spoonful of the soufflé, savoring it. “And, of course, a cellar.”

Felipe grinned at Valentina, shaking his head, “I told you she would practically pull the house down.”

“No, of course not. I want to maintain the hall, the reception room, the dining room, the garage, and the back garden. And I’m okay with the bedrooms and bathrooms. Of course, they need redecorating. You can start with that, Val. The first floor won’t be difficult, either. You won’t have great problems with it because I’m keeping it as before. It’s just some wallpaper and, of course, a thing or two. One thing we can say about the tacky previous owner is that she liked new technologies.” She licked the spoon. “The only thing I do require is floor heating. I want to move in by February and have the house ready by March first.”

Val’s eyes rounded. “Are you crazy? That leaves us four months.”

“So? I’m not sparing any expense.” She shrugged. “Hire as many different crews as you need. Put one in each room. Set the schedule. You and Felipe are the bosses. You’re going to love Lauren Starch, the architect I’ve hired. She is your age, Felipe, and has fantastic ideas.”

“I can’t come over every week. And Felipe-”

“I know. I’ll be there. We can have our meetings on Skype. I know I can’t expect you to move for me. I’ve learned to live alone.”

“Sophia, it’s not as if we’re abandoning you,” Felipe scowled, “we have our lives.”

Sophia gave him a small smile, “I understand.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Felipe answered. “Let’s hear your plans.”

Chapter 3

Geneva International Airport.

Saturday, October 17th, 2009.

6 p.m.

“I. Don’t. Believe. It. I don’t,” Sophia huffed. “I received a message from your company saying our flight had been changed to eight o’clock this evening due to the weather.”

“Je suis desolée. Your flight has already departed.”

“You’re sorry, my ass,” Sophia heard Valentina murmur from behind her.

Sophia fished her iPhone from her bag and showed the attendant the message. “Here. Please, read the message.”

“You owe me a thousand pounds, Allenthorp,” Ethan said from his comfortable seat, watching the scene.

“No, I don’t. Our bet didn’t include you cheating and arranging to send fake messages from the airline company. Sometimes I don’t know how you can live with yourself, Ashford.”

“I can see you’ve never read Dell’Arte della Guerra by Machiavelli,” he frowned slightly. “Very interesting, Allenthorp. He taught ‘Though fraud in all other actions be odious, yet in matters of war it is laudable and glorious,’ and ‘he who overcomes his enemies by stratagem is as much to be praised as he who overcomes them by force.’ Although she is not an enemy, I followed his instruction to the letter.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, she’s not alone.” Leonard was clearly annoyed. “And if she discovers your plot?”

“Another quote from Machiavelli for you, Allenthorp. ‘All courses of action are risky, so prudence is not in avoiding danger, but calculating risk and acting decisively.’ I find your education is lacking.”

“On the contrary, Ashford. I just don’t agree with Machiavelli’s beliefs. If for him ‘the end justifies the means,’ for me it doesn’t.”

“Bravo, Allenthorp, a true lawyer speaking. Don’t be a boring moralist now. We have a ride to offer.” He stood and walked up to Sophia.

“Even so, there’re no more flights this evening, madam.” The attendant finished what she was doing. “I’m sorry, again.” She looked at her watch. “I have to close, madam.”

“This isn’t happening.” Sophia shook her head, her raven hair dancing around her.

Felipe put a hand on Sophia’s shoulder. “Sis, it’s okay-”

“It seems I have to rescue you again, darling.” A deep voice came from behind Sophia.

Felipe, Valentina, and Sophia pivoted to find Ethan and Leonard at the corner of the counter.

“Ethan!” She smiled at him. “What a coincidence! I thought you were going back yesterday.”

Felipe put an arm around her waist, protectively, and eyed the men, distrustfully.

“No. My meeting only concluded late this morning. And I convinced Allenthorp to join me for lunch at l’Auberge du Lion D’Or.”

“Hmm. We went there on Thursday,” she nodded, absently. “How are you, Your Grace?” She raised her eyebrows at the lawyer, as if daring him to deny his title. “If I may introduce you, these are Felipe and Valentina Santo, my older brother and youngest sister.” She turned to Felipe and Valentina and her hand flicked in the air toward the men. “Leonard Allenthorp, the Duke of Galewick, and Mr. Ethan Ashford.”

Leonard immediately interjected, “Oh, no, please. There’s no need for formality.” He stretched his hand to Felipe. “Leonard Allenthorp. How do you do?”

“A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace,” Felipe replied, shaking Leonard’s hand, unsure of what Sophia had tried to communicate to him. “Mr. Ashford, how do you do?” he nodded, acknowledging Ethan.

The men greeted Valentina.

“So, Sophia, ready for another ride?” Ethan asked, eyeing Valentina with interest.

“Another ride?” Felipe looked at her, surprised.

“My flight was cancelled due to a snowstorm. Ethan offered me a ride, saving my day. His plane already had permission to depart.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Felipe frowned at her.

“It was-” she interrupted herself quickly. “Ah… We had so many things to talk about that I forgot, my dear.”

Leonard smiled, amused.

“May I offer my hospitality again? There is enough space for all of us.”

“Sophia?” Felipe looked at her, waiting for instructions. A normally talkative Valentina quietly surveyed the conversation.

“It’ll be a pleasure,” Ethan interjected, his voice low.

Sophia looked at Ethan and he gave her such a bright smile that she decided to accept. “Yes, I think so. It seems that I’m in your debt again.”

“Don’t worry, darling,” Ethan smiled wolfishly at her, “I’ll collect my credit in due time.”

London, The City, Fleet Street. Leibowitz Oil Building.

Tuesday, October 20th, 2009.

10.10 a.m.

“But Sophia-” The intercom buzz interrupted Edward Davidoff.

Sophia pressed the speaker button, “Yes, Sarah?”

“Mrs. L, Mr. Ashford on line three.”

“Mr. Ashford?” Sophia asked hesitantly and faintly blushed as Edward gave her a knowing smile. Since starting as a trainee, Edward has worked for Leibowitz Oil. His rise to the CEO position took eighteen years. He had been Sophia’s good friend since her marriage to Gabriel. And since Gabriel’s death, Sophia had relied on him more and more.

“He said it was a private matter,” Sarah answered.

Edward chuckled and Sophia rolled her eyes heavenward.

“Answer it, Sophia,” Edward prompted.

“Okay, Sarah. Put him through.” As she motioned to pick up the receiver, Edward made a signal for her to talk on the speakerphone.

“Hello, Ethan.”

“How are you, darling?”

“Darling, huh?” Edward mocked in a whisper. Sophia made a face.

“I’m very well, thank you, Ethan. And you?”

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m calling to collect my lunch. Are you free today?”

“Ah… Let me check my schedule.”

“Accept, Sophia. You have nothing better to do at lunch,” Edward murmured. Sophia shook her head.

“Sophia, I’m looking forward to seeing you again,” Ethan said huskily.

Edward’s eyes twinkled. “Come on, Sophia, accept or I’ll go in your place. He seems quite interesting,” he whispered.

“Ah, I- Yes, I’m free, Ethan.”

“Great. Where do you want to go?”

“Le Gavroche,” Edward suggested immediately.

“Are you crazy?” Sophia retorted, loudly. Too public.

“I beg your pardon?” Ethan said.

“Ah, sorry. I was- I saw something in my e-mail,” she stuttered and rolled her eyes. “Anywhere you chose is fine with me.”

“Oh, no, darling. I would like you to suggest it,” he lowered his voice to a seductive tone, “I want to know your taste.”

At this, Edward put his hand on his mouth to muffle his laugh. “He’s hot,” he whispered in a low voice. “Go for it, Sophia. I guarantee he’ll like your taste.”

“Ah… So, what about Le Gavroche?”

“My darling, my mouth is already watering,” he answered, the sensual intonation stronger. “What time?”

Already Edward loved this man. Someone to sweep Sophia off her feet.

“Is one o’clock okay for you?”

“Sure. I’ll make reservations and pick you up at a quarter to one.” He sounded satisfied.

“There is no need-”

“I insist. Until then.”

“Edward, you’re sooooo dead!” Sophia said when she hung up.

He laughed. “Sophia, if you don’t want to go…”

“Oh, you wicked man. Let’s finish with this contract before I forget you’re the best CEO in England and kill you.”

12.40 p.m.

Sophia walked through the hallway with a curious Edward in tow.

“What’s his car?”

“I have no idea.”

“I bet it’s a sports car.”

“I bet it’s a Mercedes. No, not a Mercedes. A Rolls-Royce with a driver.”

“He may have one, but on your first date he’ll drive to impress, love,” he smiled cunningly at her. “I have to give you some lessons in male behavior, Sophia. You’re too naïve.”

“My first date?” she sputtered. “I’m only having lunch with him and Leonard Allenthorp, the lawyer.”

“Are you sure he invited his friend?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Do you want to bet?”

“Oh, no, I don’t. I’ve already lost a bet to Ethan and Leonard and you know I don’t gamble.”

A dark blue metallic Porsche Carrera stopped in front of the building at 12.42.

“I won,” Edward elbowed Sophia.

When Ethan stepped out of the sports car, Edward turned Sophia toward himself to look into her eyes.

“What?” Sophia inquired, lifting her hand to push back a blond lock that had fallen over Edward’s forehead.

“Are you crazy? How could you have second thoughts about wanting to go out with that man? He is just… Wow!” Then he turned her to face the handsome man waiting outside the car. “Take a good look, my dear. Now, go. Enjoy our lunch. I’ll take care of Leibowitz Oil for you.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Wait!” he grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Give me your rings,” he stretched his hand to grab hers.

She recoiled, “I’m going to be late.”

“Ah-ah! The rings, please,” he wiggled his fingers at her. “Besides, he’s early. Don’t be too eager.”

Sophia rolled her eyes heavenward. “Edward, I’m not too eager. I don’t see the point in making Ethan wait if I’m already here.”

“The rings, please,” he insisted. “I will return them to you after lunch.” He wiggled his fingers again. “Anyway, he already knows you’re a widow. Give them to me.”

Sophia took off her engagement ring and marriage band and placed them on his palm. “I feel naked without them.”

“You’re not! You look astonishing in that dress.” He pushed her in the direction of the door. “Enjoy your date, love.”

“It’s not a date.”

“If you say so…” he sneered and pushed her again.

Ethan sucked in his breath when Sophia appeared on the sidewalk exactly on time. An open beautiful gray overcoat with white fur cuffs and collar exposed a very elegant knee-length tweed, white-and-orange dress, and a black belt hugged her small waist. Along with high-heel, black leather boots, she embodied a sophisticated and sexy woman.

“Sophia, you look wonderful.” He kissed her cheek.

She stared at him, surprised by the kiss. “Thank you.”

He opened the door and held his hand to help her inside the car. As he seated himself behind the steering wheel, he turned to her. “Allenthorp couldn’t come. He asked me to convey his apologies and say that he’ll call you to collect his lunch.”

“That was not our agreement,” Sophia muttered.

“He needs to be in court,” Ethan shrugged, starting the car, “His loss. But I’m sure he’s going to call you.”

Sophia looked at the road, not certain what she should say.

“Have you eaten at Le Gavroche recently?” he asked.

“No. But I have fond memories of the lunch I had there. Such spectacular food.”

“Michel is a spectacular chef. I already informed him I’m having lunch with a special guest.” He smiled at her. “I’m happy you have accepted my invitation, Sophia.”

He’s so sure of himself. She smiled back, without uttering a word.

He turned on the radio, but before putting a CD in, probed, “Do you like opera?”

“Sure. What is this one?”

“A selection of Maria Callas.” He slid the CD in. “I just love her voice; so much emotion. She takes the role, transgresses and transforms it. She makes you feel all the drama, the love and ecstasy, the fear and the death.”

The intense enthusiasm expressed in his voice and face baffled Sophia. “You really like her.”

“I admire those who have no fear of demonstrating passion, to live life to the fullest.” He quickly surveyed her, his blue eyes electrifying. “I think you can.”

All right. Two can play this game. She grinned mysteriously at him, turning sideways on the seat, her dress rising to the middle of her thighs. She noticed when his breath hitched. Oh, yeah, Mr. Ashford. You asked for it.

“What makes you say that, Ethan?” she asked in a deceivingly naïve voice, her fingers playing with the seam of her boot and tracing the contours of her knee.

“Your eyes sparkle with passion when you talk about your pro bono work.” He clutched her hand and, looking right into her eyes, kissed it. “It is up to the man who holds your heart to ignite that fire inside you.”

Sophia felt a thrill run through her spine. Oh. My. God. Now what?

Their arrival at the restaurant saved her from having to respond.

“Here we are.” He signaled to a doorman, who took a traffic cone from the street. Ethan maneuvered the car with an ease that belied the difficulty of fitting it into such a small parking place.

“You’re lucky. A parking place just in front of the restaurant.”

“Darling, we make our own luck,” he retorted enigmatically.

“Not always,” she riposted. “Trust me, I know.”

He exited the car and rounded it to help her out, offering his hand again.

She laughed. “I’m not crippled or old.” She accepted his hand and left the car.

“High heels,” he pointed and arched an eyebrow at her, closing the door. He waited for her to take his arm. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“No offense taken. I’m well versed in getting in and out of all types of cars. Never had a problem with my heels.”

“I love women in high heels, Ms. Santo.” He flashed a smile at her.

“Mrs. Santo,” she corrected him.

“Sophia. Calling you Mrs. Santo makes me feel like I’m going out with a married woman.”

“I see,” she smiled amazed by his explanation.

Sophia smiled when Ethan tipped the doorman who had collected the cone. Yeah, he makes his lucky. Her smile faltered. But then, Gabriel did the same and ran out of luck.

Ethan watched her. “Everything okay?”

“Sure.” Lies; more lies; always lies.

The restaurant was full, but they were promptly seated in a reserved booth in the back. The staff treated Ethan in a deferential way. On the way to their table, he possessively put a hand on her shoulder and greeted some acquaintances with a nod, but didn’t stop. He concentrated on her.

Forty minutes flew by as they chatted and ate an entrée of hot foie gras and crispy pancake of duck flavored with cinnamon perfect foiled on a Sauternes Chateau D’Yquem.

“Monsieur Ashford. Madame. C’est un plaisir!”

“Michel! How are you?” Ethan greeted the owner of the restaurant in perfect French. “This is a dear friend of mine, Ms. Sophia Santo.”

“Monsieur, the food is magnificent,” Sophia complimented the chef, also in French.

“Merci, Mademoiselle Santo. I’m happy you enjoyed it.” He turned to Ethan. “Mr. Ashford, I prepared a special dessert for you. Chocolate, of course, but spicy. Let me know if you like it or desire something else. Monsieur. Madame.” He made a small bow and continued his wanderings through the restaurant.

Even though she was certain Ethan had asked for the service to come very slowly, Sophia enjoyed the lunch immensely. He was intelligent, witty, extremely well-read and they shared many mutual interests.

“Mademoiselle, the chef presents your grilled scallops with carrots and salad leaves, tarragon mustard and for monsieur the roast milk-fed lamb with flageolets beans and thyme-scented jus.” The waiter put their plates in front of them and with a flourish, opened the silver coverlets. The sommelier tasted the wine, a 1996, Réserve Mouton Cadet Médoc, approved it, and served a little for Ethan’s assent.

“Do you like the wine?”

“Excellent.” Sophia reveled in the way Ethan clearly prepared everything for her. She gave him a scowl followed by a little smile. “I think you’re trying to get me drunk, Mr. Ashford.”

“No, I’m not.” He pierced her with his sparkling blue eyes. “You have it the wrong way round. I’m the one who is drunk, Sophia. You’re so beautiful, so intelligent, so perfect that it makes a man forget what he’s doing.”

“Beautiful?” she sniggered. “I’m not beautiful. Much less, perfect.”

“Yes, you are. More than beautiful and perfect. You’re…” He scooted to her side of the booth. His hand lifted to touch her raven strands, “Your hair is shiny and lustrous, as long as it should be.” His knuckles caressed her cheek, “Your face is like a cameo.” He opened his hand when it reached her neck and then it descended to her shoulder, pausing just before the swell of her breast. “Your body. I don’t have words to describe it. You leave me speechless and this is not a common thing.”

“Compliments, compliments!” she waved her hand, trying to recapture the light conversation they had been having. “When men desire something they scatter compliments in the wind.”

“And what do I desire, Sophia?” he lowered his tone, his voice husky, and leaned into her. The movement showed his strength that had been hidden within his suit, making visible his powerful muscles. Sophia’s mouth went dry and she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue and bit her bottom lip.

“Don’t, Sophia.” His thumb caressed her bottom lip.

“Pardon?”

“Don’t do this.” He was serious, his voice hoarse. His knee touched her thigh and she almost jumped. “You drive me crazy with desire.” His thumb gently touched the center of her lips.

His voice and hand hypnotized Sophia. “Ethan…”

“I want to take you out to dinner, Sophia. Are you free on Thursday?”

“No,” she shook her head, “I’m traveling on business to Ireland tomorrow.”

“When do you return?”

The waiter arrived and she waited for him to serve the dessert before answering.

“On Friday night.”

“Saturday, then.” His azure eyes were so brilliant they had surpassed the color of the Mediterranean Sea.

Sophia found herself answering before she could think. “Saturday, then.”

His victorious smile almost frightened Sophia.

Chapter 4

Leibowitz Oil Building.

Tuesday, January 5th, 2010.

9.45 a.m.

Ethan entered the building where Sophia worked with the firm intention of requesting a meeting with her. He didn’t even know if she was there. She had not answered his calls since the day she was supposed to return from her holiday trip to Brazil.

Sophia Santo was the most difficult woman to please he had ever met. He thought she’d call him first thing when she arrived. He’d taken her to lunch and dinner more than a dozen times and at the last dinner, just before her trip to Rio de Janeiro, he had given her a Christmas’s gift that would make any woman come running back to his arms. But by saying it was only a memento, he had trivialized the gift.

How could an Oiseaux de Paradis clip, earrings and ring from Van Cleef and Arpels with spectacular yellow and blue sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds be only a memento? He knew she had liked it. She had thanked him and apologized for not remembering to buy him a gift, but he dismissed it, saying that she was his gift. Still… She had resisted his charm. A small peck on his lips was his reward.

Jesus!

This obsession annoyed him. It was weird for him to behave like this. He was pining. He wasn’t a man to pine.

No, I don’t pine. Not at all. For no woman. Ethan felt unsettled.

Whatever he wanted, he got; it didn’t matter how. There was nothing he could not have, nothing he could not buy. He had only the best.

I want her. He had decided that the first minute he saw her. If necessary, he would move worlds to have her.

“Good morning. I’d like to see Ms. Santo. It’s Mr. Ethan Ashford,” he identified himself at the building reception and handed his ID to the receptionist when asked.

“Is she expecting you, ah, Mr. Ashford?” the attendant inquired. Her tag read “Kathleen.”

“No, but I’m sure she will see me. Anyway, it’s an emergency.”

“Please, wait a minute. I’ll contact her secretary.”

“Sarah, Mr. Ashford is here to see Mrs. Santo.” She listened for a while, and smiled at him, “Just a minute, sir.”

He smiled back at her, “No problem.”

After a little while, the receptionist answered, “Thank you.” She smiled again at him, handing over a tag that said ‘Visitor’, “Mrs. Santo will receive you, Mr. Ashford. Would you like me to accompany you?”

“No, thank you very much, Kathleen,” he grinned at her. “Just tell me the way.”

He followed the directions she gave him. In less than a minute, he stood in front of Sophia’s secretary. Sarah, a slender, salt-and-pepper haired, middle-aged woman, wore a conservative black suit.

“Good morning, Sarah. How do you do?” he smiled at her. “I’m so sorry to show up like this, but I really have to talk to Ms. Santo.”

“She’ll receive you now.” She walked to the farthest door from her table. After knocking, she opened it. “Mr. Ashford.”

At once, Sophia rose from the chair behind the table and strolled to the door. “Mr. Ashford, please come in.” She smiled and motioned her hand to Edward. “Let me introduce you to Mr. Edward Davidoff. He is the CEO of Leibowitz Oil.”

Ethan and Edward shook hands, measuring each other. “A pleasure to meet you, Davidoff.”

“My pleasure, Ashford.” He turned to Sophia, “Mrs. Santo, I expect your analysis soon.” Edward gave her a wicked wink before closing the door.

“How are you, my darling?” he kissed her softly on her lips, respecting the boundaries she had set. “You look adorable today, as always,” he complimented.

She looked utterly natural and fresh, only a little makeup to enhance the amber of her eyes. She wore a long Indian-style vest, with a navy-and-dark green pattern, and navy trousers that hugged her legs. One might think of her as a fashion designer, not a lawyer.

She watched him seriously, “Sarah told me it was an emergency, Ethan. Please, sit down.” She motioned to the armchairs in front of her desk, “Do you want some coffee, tea, or something else to drink, water?”

“Tea, please.”

She went to a wood-paneled wall, pushed it and a disguised cupboard appeared. She took out a tea chest and she placed it on her desk in front of him. She turned on a machine and placed two cups under it. In a few seconds the cups were filled with steaming water.

“Milk? Sugar?” she asked.

“Nothing, thank you.” He observed her. A very beautiful woman with elegant gestures. Her cool façade doesn’t fool me.

Sophia handed him his cup and saucer with a small napkin and waited for him to choose a tea. He singled out an Earl Grey. She smiled down at him, picked out the same, and sat on her chair opposite him.

“I thought you worked for Holbrook,” he put forth as a start to the conversation. He wanted to know all about her.

“No. I told you I worked with Professor Holbrook. Quite different.”

“Indeed.” He looked around, “You have a splendid office.”

She quirked an eyebrow.

“Not what I expected for someone so young.”

“I’m the head of the legal department here.”

“Impressive. But I should have imagined it. You’re very intelligent. And you seem competent, too,” he praised her.

“I am. Competent, I mean.” Her gaze wandered over him, taking in the way his hair was combed, his softly groomed beard, his expensive suit, the way his legs were crossed, and even his shoes. “How may I help you?”

He started to feel uncomfortable. Turn the tables on her, Ashford.

She steepled her fingers, tapping them, as if impatient.

She won’t make this easy. Ethan cleared his throat. “This is a private matter, Sophia. So if you’re too busy, please, feel free to tell me.”

“Ethan.” He could hear the annoyance in her voice. “If I were too busy, I wouldn’t have received you.” Her smile softened her firm answer. “Please, tell me what you so desire.”

Ms. Santo’s fire is kindling. Keep going, baby. Let’s make you burn. “Since you put it that way, I’ll be blunt.” He didn’t smile. “Have I done something to offend you?”

Sophia’s face showed surprise; her fingers still interlaced. “Offend? No, not at all. Why?”

“You haven’t answered my calls since I last saw you in December. And you didn’t phone me when you returned.”

“I have been quite busy. I’m overseeing the renovation of my new home and had some pressing matters to take care of. Besides, I didn’t promise to call as soon as I arrived, did I?” She sipped her tea, waiting for him to continue.

“No, you didn’t. The thing is, Sophia, I…” Say it. You’re Ethan Ashford. No one refuses you. It will not start with her. He rose from his armchair, circled her desk, and propped a thigh on the corner of her desk, near her chair.

“Yes?” She turned her chair to face him, crossing her long legs.

Jesus! Naughty thoughts entered his mind, making him bold. Showtime, Ashford. “I want you, Sophia.” He leaned in her direction. “I’ve wanted you from the minute I saw you at Heathrow,” he admitted. “And what I want, I conquer.” A crooked smile complemented the bold statement.

Sophia smiled back, teasing. “And you think as Julius Caesar: Veni, vidi, vici?”

He gave her a grin. “Exactly. Just like that.”

“Ah… But I’m not that easy to conquer, Mr. Giulio Cesare Ashford.” Her smile widened.

“So, it seems that I will have to put all my resources to the task,” he growled. He liked sparing with words.

Easy victories are for lesser men. Besides, it will add spice to the relationship. Relationship? Jesus! Where has this sprung from?

“So you barge into my office to propose…” She tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “What are you proposing, Ethan?”

“Not a one-night stand. That’s for sure. I want something more permanent for us. How can I propose something if you’ve vanished since our last dinner?”

“I see.” She sipped her tea again, playing for time. What shall I answer?

“What do you fear?” He leaned in toward her. “‘Never was anything great achieved without danger.’”

“Oh, please!” She suddenly looked exasperated. “Seriously. Do you really think life is a war?”

He was startled. “Have you read The Art of War?” He straightened his back to tower over her.

“Machiavelli’s entire work. In the original Italian,” she boasted and rose from her chair, facing him. “First Julius Caesar, then Machiavelli. Who’s next? Robespierre? Oh, no. Not Robespierre. Too revolutionary, wasn’t he? Life is not a war, Ethan.”

Ethan smiled, amused. She won’t let herself be cornered. Good, very good. I just have to keep fueling her fire.

“All right, all right.” He raised his hands in a peace gesture. “How about passion?”

“Passion…” She sat again and drilled her nails on the glass desk, meditating. “Yes, passion is an indispensable ingredient of life.” Then the smile came back to her lips, “and to war.”

So easy. “See, we came back to the beginning. It’s just a different way of putting it. I wish- No. I’m inviting you to go out with me again, Sophia. Today. An opera, a ballet, a play; choose… After, dinner.” He seized her hand and squeezed it lightly. “Please.”

He is handsome. Intelligent, charming, a gentleman. Attentive to detail. Quite arrogant and possessive, yes, but then everyone has imperfections. Don’t I have mine too? Why not fall for his seduction? Gabriel’s not returning from the dead. He wouldn’t want me to live alone for the rest of my life, ending up a bitter, dry woman.

“Okay,” she capitulated. “Just let me know what time you’re going to pick me up. I’m certain I’ll appreciate your choice, as always,” she smiled.

London, Eaton Square.

Friday, January 15th, 2010.

8 p.m.

Sophia wore a one-shoulder, dark-red turtleneck dress and black velvet high heels.

No driver. No Rolls-Royce. No driver. Mmm… She remembered Edward’s words. “He’ll want to impress you.”

Ethan arrived to pick Sophia driving a red Ferrari. Over the last few days, he had paraded four different expensive cars and took her to the best restaurants in town. He was always attentive and charming.

“Hello.” She entered the car and fastened the seatbelt, turning to look at him, a smile on her lips.

He perused her with lust in his electric blue eyes. “Each day you look more ravishing, Sophia.” His hand touched her right naked shoulder and ran down her arm, entwining his fingers with hers. He leaned in and kissed her hungrily. “This dress is quite sensual. I like you in blood-red. It enhances your face and your hair. Brings out the fire in you.”

“More compliments.” She smiled. “What do you want today, Ethan?”

His azure eyes sparkled and his grin turned wicked, but he didn’t answer the question.

As always, time flew when she was with him. He showed real interest in her opinions about his enterprises and asked pertinent questions about her lectures at Cambridge and her work at Leibowitz Oil.

“You didn’t like the set I gave you?” Ethan fingered a stunning clip she was wearing and looked at her.

“I loved it.” She cocked her head to the side. “I didn’t wear it today because it doesn’t go as well with the red dress. Why?”

“You’ve only used it twice.” He thinned his lips. “This one is gorgeous, Sophia. It’s also a Van Cleef, isn’t it?” He took in the earrings and the ring. “A gift?”

“Yes, to both questions.”

“I don’t like you using gifts given by other men.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Ethan, it wasn’t given to me by other men. My husband gave it to me. This represents a Nereid, one of the fifty maiden sea nymphs and daughters of Nereus, the sea-god, and Doris, who was the daughter of Oceanus. I love Greek mythology. Do you know the legend?”

“Did your husband think you vain and a traitress?” He was suddenly angry. “There is not an ounce of vanity or deceit in you.”

“Sea nymphs aren’t mermaids. According to the legend, the sea nymphs helped sailors navigate back to their lands. He gave me this because he said I was his beacon in life.”

His forehead creased. Now, he was angry and annoyed. “Nevertheless, I don’t like you using it. Use them to work, not when you go out with me.”

“Ethan!” Sophia laughed. “I cannot use this kind of jewelry to work. They’re high jewelry.”

He thinned his lips again, breathed deep, and changed the conversation. “Perhaps you want to have coffee at my apartment?” He flashed her a charming smile and touched her hand lightly with his fingers. “I bought a special blend from Nespresso and it just came in. Since you like coffee, I’m sure you will appreciate it.”

That’s it. It is now or never. Courage, Sophia! “Sounds good.”

They left the restaurant. The valet had already fetched Ethan’s Ferrari for them.

Park Lane. Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

11.01 p.m.

He lived near The Dorchester Hotel, on Park Lane, in a spectacular penthouse apartment on the tenth floor of a very exclusive building. A private lift served it.

The huge reception room was all done in white, glass, and steel with two enormous sofas and a glass center table. No building hindered the stunning vista from the three terraces encircling the apartment.

The white and dark green contemporary kitchen was immaculately kept. He went to one of the consoles where there was a Nespresso coffee machine and selected a blend. “Will you try the new blend?”

“Yes, thank you.” She stopped by one of the glass windows admiring the view. London never ceased to amaze her. She just loved this city with its majestic buildings and regal aura, but she had felt detached from it since she moved here. She had always liked to explore its mysteries, but unlike others who roamed at will, she hid from prying eyes. For how long?

Ethan handed Sophia her cup. “Do you like the view?”

“Uh-huh. Fantastic.”

“Let’s drink this in the living room.”

They sat on the sofa, side by side, Ethan’s arm casually on her shoulders, his hand, undemanding, caressing her bare arm.

“I love Pollock and Francis Bacon,” she said, looking at the paintings hanging on the wall. “They’re among my favorite painters.”

He smiled at her, “Mine, too.”

He made small talk about art, waiting for her to finish her coffee and put her cup and saucer on the center table beside his.

The second she sat back beside him, he shifted on the sofa and his hands framed her face. “Sophia…” His voice hoarse.

Oh, God. Time to face the beast or rather the beauty. She crushed the hysterical nervous laugh that threatened to escape.

Sophia looked up and stared into his eyes. They were charged with a potent hunger. She parted her lips and wetted them with the tip of her tongue.

He groaned with desire and his mouth descended on hers.

He tastes of coffee.

He ran his hands down the sides of her body, searching for the edge of her dress.

She sank her hands into his hair.

His lips were insistent and his tongue, thrusting in her mouth, danced with hers. His beard was soft and pleasant to the touch. He nibbled her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. His hand wandered up her thigh until his thumb found her panties.

She moaned in his mouth and arched on his hard chest, her nipples aching for skin contact.

“Let me love you, Sophia.” His azure eyes blazed with passion.

She was in no state to speak.

He rose and held out his hand to her. “Come.”

She put her hand in his and stood up; giving him the permission he sought.

His rooms occupied most of the second floor. They were white, glass and steel, as the rest of his home. Spectacular contemporary paintings and sculptures gave color to the rooms. An office, a bedroom, and an adjoining sitting room made up his quarters.

He stopped in front of the bed. The linens were turned down.

Sophia noticed a bottle of champagne cooling in a silver bucket with two crystal glasses on the center table in the sitting room. She smiled; he had everything prepared previously.

“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she whispered.

“Yes, I am.” He dragged her into his embrace, kissing her passionately as his hand unfastened her black belt and flung it on the armchair in the sitting room, without even looking that way.

Her hand stopped him as he started to unzip her dress.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

She bit her lower lip, unsure. “I didn’t tell you. I have an ugly scar on my arm. I was shot once.”

“Hush.” He took off her dress, letting it fall on the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Immediately, his hands went to her breasts, gently kneading them. “Beautiful. Perfect.”

His eyes wandered over her body, taking note of the scar. He smiled naughtily when he noticed her dark red and gold lace panties. One of his hands went down and cupped her as his mouth latched on a nipple, sucking it into his mouth. Her head fell backwards and she tangled her hands in his brown, sun-kissed, silky hair.

“Undress me,” he ordered.

Her trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, opening them. Her hands tentatively searched his chest and felt soft chest hairs under her fingers. He was muscular and well-shaped. She felt bold and tried to free him of the shirt, but his hands were busy elsewhere. She moaned when she felt his fingers going inside her panties to tease her. Her fingers undid his belt and the sound of his zipper rang through the room. She pushed his trousers down and they fell to his ankles.

He toed his shoes off and stepped on his trousers to take them off. He ripped off his shirt and looked at her, his eyes burning her, “Touch me.”

Her hands went to his chest.

“No.” His voice rumbled deep in his chest. He took off his underwear and his socks. Covering her hand with his, he placed her hand on his rigid shaft, stroking himself. His other hand circled her throat and nape, pulling her to a scorching kiss.

Unfamiliar with his way of making love, she felt unsure of what to do.

“Tighter, faster,” he demanded with labored breath, distributing kisses on her throat. He bit her shoulder and lapped at the bite. She gave a startled gasp.

Sophia shifted to take off her black velvet high heels but he halted her. “Leave them on,” he said in a husky voice.

He smiled on her skin and trailed to her breast, suckling and biting her nipple, “You’re delicious. I want to taste you. All of you.” He directed her to lie on the pillows and knelt down at the end of the bed, snatching her panties away. He took hold of her ankles and opened her legs, setting his large shoulders between them. His mouth moved over her soft stomach, his hands ran over her legs.

She moaned low as he made his descent to her core.

He lapped at her, once, twice, teasing, as if waiting for a reaction. When she grabbed his hair, he grinned and latched his mouth, sucking her. She spoke his name in a gasp. And he entered her with his tongue, delving, licking.

She feels so good, so soft.

Her thighs were silk against his hands. She was liquid heat against his mouth. He could hear her choppy breaths.

“Oh, please, Ethan.” Writhing on the bed, her hips undulated.

He rose over her, kissing her breast as a blind hand searched for a condom in the drawer of the bedside table. He sheathed himself and rocked his body in between her thighs.

“Please.”

“Not yet. I want to see you burning,” he said huskily near her ear, nipping the earlobe and rimming the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. He kissed his way to her neck and throat. She jerked beneath him and moved her hips, trying to ease the pressure building inside her. He laughed quietly and moved to her shoulders, kissing, lapping, and nibbling. Her fingers clung to his upper arms, needing some support, as his mouth found her breast. Lightning shot through her and she gasped out loud, arching her back.

“I. Am. Burning,” she pleaded. He didn’t answer, his mouth busy now with the other breast. His fingers moved to find her slit and he entered her deep with two long fingers. In and out, his fingers teased her. His thumb pressed her clitoris.

Her hands entwined in his hair and she yanked his head up to gaze desperately at him. “In. Flames!”

He smiled hungrily and braced himself on each side of her head.

“You. Are. Tight,” he bit out as he thrust shallowly, but slowly and steadily, torturing her. In a bit, out some more, until he was fully inside her. Hip to hip, no space between them.

She clutched his hair to pull his head down for a kiss.

What started slowly grew into a crescendo, as he began to move faster and she joined him, matching his tempo.

He felt she was near. “Come for me,” he commanded, kissing her hard. Her nails scorched his back and her heels dug into his buttocks. “Yes, baby.”

Sophia opened her eyes to look at his flashing blue eyes.

“Ethan.” She threw her head back and cried out as he took her over the edge, falling limp on the pillows as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her, hugging him tightly inside her, ripple after ripple extracting a deep groan from his throat. She felt him move fiercely once more, shouted her name and stilled above and inside her, his pleasure so strong it pulsated through her.

He rolled to his side; rose on one elbow and with a shaking hand combed her splayed hair.

“You will be the ruin of me, Sophia,” he rasped and placed a light kiss on her shoulder.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Couldn’t even open her eyes. Her world was spinning.

“Sophia?” His hand cupped her face and turned it to him.

Her eyes fluttered open; the honey color transformed now to a yellow diamond color. “Need a minute,” she managed to say, a barely there smile on her lips.

He trapped her in his arms. “Sleep with me tonight. You don’t have to work tomorrow.”

“Hmm?” She tried to make some sense of his words. She raised her head a bit from his chest. “Your heart is beating too fast.” She smiled at him, her wondrous eyes shining and he melted completely.

“Stay with me. It’s late.”

“I don’t do sleepovers, Ethan.”

“I beg your pardon?” He looked astonished. A woman that doesn’t want to stay overnight? With me?

“I only sleep alone,” she smiled, apologetic.

“Why?” he asked baffled.

She shrugged. “Because.”

“Please.” He caressed her hair, twisting a lock between his fingers. “I’ve never asked a woman to stay with me. I really wish you would stay, Sophia.”

“All right. I have to go home before one o’clock tomorrow,” she acquiesced. “Oh… I don’t have anything with me.”

“Clothes are not a problem. My secretary will bring you some, tomorrow morning.” He stood up, picked up his BlackBerry from his jeans on the floor, and started texting. “Do you want a T-shirt to sleep in?” he asked while he entered his walk-in closet and his bathroom.

She shook her head and rose from the bed, toeing off her high heels and gathering her clothes. “What are you doing?” she asked surprised when he exited the closet in pajama shorts, still texting.

“Informing my secretary what I want her to buy for you.” He raised his eyes to take a good look at her body.

“At this time of night?”

“Sophia, I pay her quite well. She works twenty-four-seven,” he said dismissively. “What is your shoe size?”

“I don’t need shoes. In fact, there is no need for clothes. I can return home in mine.”

He frowned at her. “You’re not going home wearing this dress and high heels. What size?”

“Er… Really, Ethan.”

“Aren’t you aggravating?” He grumbled and his demeanor suddenly darkened. “Do you want to arrive at home looking like a whore?”

Sophia flinched and paled. Gabriela! What will Gabriela think? “I think I should I go home now, Ethan,” she said in a small voice.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.” He hastily apologized. “Please… Stay. I’ve never asked a woman to stay with me, Sophia,” he repeated. “It’s always the other way round.”

Almost two years since I have slept with a man. Should I indulge? Could I? “All right. I will stay.”

“Shoe size?”

Oh, damn. My shoe size. “Er… seven and a half for sandals, eight for shoes, and eight and a half for boots… UK size.” Sophia eyed him closely waiting for a smirk that didn’t come. Good, Mr. Ashford. “But sneakers would do.”

“Sneakers?” He made a face at her. “Do you want a shirt, baby?”

“I just want a toothbrush.” She smiled mischievously at him. “If you don’t mind, I sleep in the nude.”

He laughed, “I don’t mind at all.” He pulled her into his arms, kissing her tenderly. “Oh, Sophia.” He sighed. “There is something special about you…”

She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled at him.

“Tomorrow, I’ll drive you home.” He kissed her lips and grabbing her hand, towed her into the bathroom. He gave her a toothbrush and paste he had retrieved from a drawer. “Make yourself at home.”

God! She shook her head, smiling when she entered the bathroom. The man has art even in here.

When Sophia reentered the bedroom, he was sitting on the bed waiting for her holding two flutes of champagne. No sign of the condom he had flung on the floor.

He stretched his hand, pulling her into the circle of his arms as they toasted and drank.

An emotion Ethan didn’t recognize unfurled in his chest. And then, he knew it would be her for him, forever.

After thirty-five years of waiting I’ve found my other half. She will be mine. My Sophia. Forever.

Come hell or high water.

Mine.

He shook his head, scared to hell. “You don’t know what you have done to me, Sophia.”

A frightening scream shattered the air, waking Ethan.

He switched on the lamp on the bedside table. Sophia, on the other side of the bed, clutched her scarred arm and moaned, as if in pain. Her head thrashed on the pillow and she spoke incoherently.

“Nooooo!” she cried hoarsely, chilling Ethan as her pained voice laced the room.

Jesus! He shook her by the shoulders. “Sophia! Sophia, wake up! You’re having a nightmare.”

She opened troubled eyes and looked around, confused. Her gaze fixed on his face and her breath whooshed from her. She put her hands on her face, heaving.

After a minute, she let her hands fall. “I’m sorry.” She pushed up on the bed and rested on the headboard, eyes closed. “That is the reason I don’t do sleepovers, Ethan.” Her voice shaky. “I have nightmares,” she sighed. “Terrible nightmares.” She left the bed. “I’ll be right back.” She crossed the room and entered the bathroom. She twisted her hair and made a loose bun. She waved her hand under the faucet, cupped the water. She wet her wrists, face, and nape.

Don’t look in the mirror, don’t look in the mirror. She knew what she would see. Big, spooky, dark-brown eyes and white lips on an ashen face. They were neither her eyes, nor her features. They belonged to a ghost, not to her.

Sophia heard a knock and she turned. Ethan leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching her with worried eyes. “Everything okay?”

“No,” she grimaced, “but it will be.”

“Want some port? Or a whisky?” He stepped into the bathroom, thoughtfully. “Here.” He put a white cotton shirt beside her on the sink. “I’ll wait for you in the sitting room.”

“Wait.” She gripped his wrist and stared at him, her eyes troubled… Get a grip, Sophia. You’re going to frighten the man away on the first night. She let go of his hand. “It’s okay. I’ll be-”

He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist, his head dropping to her neck. “I’m here,” he whispered near her ear. “Come on.” He dressed her with the shirt, which fell to the middle of her thighs. “I like you in my shirt.” He smiled at her, leading her to the sofa. He retrieved a bottle of port from a small bar under the bookshelf. He looked at her and motioned to the opened champagne bottle, “Or perhaps do you want the champagne?”

So attentive, Ethan. She gave him a small smile. “I prefer the port.”

“Tell me about the dream.” He handed her the crystal glass and sat beside her, an arm on her shoulder, pulling her to him.

She sipped her wine. “It wasn’t a dream.” She shook her head. “And I don’t talk about it.”

“How were you shot?” He tried again.

“Ethan, please, let it be. It’s a very sore issue.” For the first time, she looked around; taking in the stylish sitting room with its paintings and books gracing the walls.

She put her glass on the side table and rose from the sofa to examine the bookshelves. “We really do have similar tastes,” she smiled at him over her shoulder.

He finished his wine and approached her from behind and spoke in her ear. “I knew you were perfect for me from the minute I spotted you.” He bit her earlobe, his hand lifting the hem of the shirt to find her hip, stroking it. “Come to bed. I’ll make you forget your dream.”

Chapter 5

Saturday, January 16th, 2010.

10 a.m.

Sophia opened her eyes to find Ethan seated on the edge of the bed looking at her, a mug in his hand, his hair damp from the shower, dressed in faded jeans and a blue turtleneck sweater that did wonders to his eyes.

“I could go for hours just looking at you.”

She stretched, raising her arms above her head and entwining them; the sheets moved, showing a breast. “Good morning,” she smiled at him.

Ethan put his mug on the bedside table. “Do that again and you’re not getting out of this bed, Ms. Santo.”

Sophia grinned wickedly and stretched again, this time writhing her body, sheets bunching at her waist.

“Vixen.” Ethan bent to kiss her but she rolled to the other side of the bed and jumped to the bathroom.

“Don’t move,” she ordered. “I’ll be right back.”

When she emerged from the bathroom, he was in the same place, an amused twist on his lips.

“Good boy.” She smiled and picked up his mug, smelling it. “Mmm!” She raised her brows to him and drank his coffee. He smiled at her impudent gesture. She tugged him from the bed by the sweater. “Take it off,” she commanded.

“You like to give orders, huh?”

“Sometimes,” she smiled and quirked an eyebrow. “Do you know how to obey?”

“Sometimes,” he replied and took off his sweater.

“Let’s see.” She perched on the end of the bed, tapping her index finger on her lips, admiring his muscles as he moved.

“Now what, Ms. Santo?”

She could see a bulge in his jeans, her lips twisted and curled unbidden. “Jeans. Off.”

He peeled off his jeans, amused, and threw them on the armchair.

“Briefs. Off!” Her eyes gleamed and she bit her lip.

He took off his briefs and stood proudly in front of her. He knew he had a great figure.

Sophia motioned, with her finger, for him to make a complete turn.

“Do you approve?” he asked huskily.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Ashford, I do!” she nodded.

Jesus! The woman is hot.

Sophia rose from the bed and circled him, her fingers tracing his chest and his shoulder; she ran her hands over his arms and his buttocks, without touching his straining erection.

“A fine specimen, Mr. Ashford.” She pinched his chin lowering his head a bit, to better look at his azure eyes. He hadn’t touched her and she was already turned on. “A very fine specimen,” she murmured.

He let out a laugh. “I will tell my personal trainer that I made the grade.” He grabbed both of her wrists in his grip behind her back and pulled her flush onto his body.

“I wasn’t finished, Mr. Ashford,” she frowned at him.

“Seems I’m not that good at following orders, Ms. Santo.”

She smiled at the admission. “Ethan. I never thought you would be.” And pressed tighter to him, parting her lips.

They met halfway and he savaged her mouth, leaving Sophia with no ability to think. She barely noticed when he released her wrists and picked her up by the waist, lifting her higher on his body to deepen the kiss. Her legs wrapped around his waist involuntary and she put her hands on his shoulders for support.

“Sophia,” her name on his lips like a prayer. He impaled her on his erection and a low cry left Sophia’s mouth. “You feel so good,” he murmured and backed her on the wall, moving slowly, rocking in her. He kissed her neck and her shoulder.

Her hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head in an aggressive kiss, notching their passions higher. He shifted his hold on her thighs and his hand dipped between them, searching for her clitoris.

He tore his mouth from hers and ordered in his low baritone voice, “Come for me.” His blue eyes flamed with desire. She met his gaze for a split second before he took her mouth once more in a hungry kiss. He withdrew almost totally from her body and slammed back into her hard and deep, fingering her at the same time. She moaned in his mouth and he felt her body tense up. He pounded into her again and again.

She came apart in his arms. If he hadn’t been holding her, she would have dropped to the ground. In one more hard thrust, he shouted her name and spilled inside her, his forehead falling to her shoulder.

They stayed pressed onto the wall, heaving. Then, all of a sudden, he stiffened and slowly raised his head from her shoulder, staring intently at her.

“What?” Sophia breathed, her head on the curve of his neck.

“The condom. I forgot.” He scanned her eyes. “You’re on the pill, I take…”

“Hmm? Pill? No,” she murmured the words, still dazed.

His eyes widened. “JESUS!” he shouted, alarmed. “Plan B. Now.”

“Plan B?” She frowned, puzzled. What the hell is his plan b?

“Morning-after pill.” He withdrew from her and slid her down his body until her feet were touching the floor. “The sooner you take it, the better.”

Oh! Pregnancy… “Relax,” she assured him, smiling. “No chances of pregnancy. I’m not on the pill but I have an IUD.”

“An IUD?” He curled his fingers under her chin.

“Laser hair removal and IUDs with hormones are a woman’s best friends,” she smiled at him, admiring his wondrous azure eyes.

He chuckled, “And here I thought they were diamonds.”

“Well, those too.” Her laugh tinkled in the room. “I’m taking a shower. Then I have to go home.”

“Sophia,” he raked his hand through his hair, “what about… When was the last time you were tested?”

“Tested?” she frowned, stopping on the threshold of the bathroom and looking over her shoulder.

Jesus! Are you that stupid, Ashford? “STD, HIV, you know.”

“I’m clean, don’t you worry.” Her frown increased, a line appearing between her elegant, black brows. “And you?”

“Fair question.” He stepped toward her and embraced her. “Last October. Last time I changed partners.” He nuzzled her neck. “I wish you could stay with me today.” He kissed her lips, tenderly. “You’re a hell of a woman, Ms. Santo,” he murmured on her lips and released her. “Go have your shower. You can use the white bathrobe. I’ve ordered some perfume and toiletries from Creed for you.”

She stood there frozen.

“What?” he murmured on her lips and kissed her again.

“How did you know I use Creed?” she whispered.

“I just know,” he answered with a mysterious smile on his lips.

11.25 a.m.

“Your clothes have arrived,” he informed from outside of the bathroom. “Come to the sitting room. I ordered breakfast. I’m dying to see if you like my choices.”

Hastily, Sophia dried herself and wrapped an enormous, fluffy towel turban style over her long hair. She donned the white bathrobe hanged behind the door.

“Oh. My. God!” She halted at the entrance of the sitting room. She looked around, baffled. He sat on the sofa, in front of the center table, laden with food.

He shrugged, carelessly. “I knew you liked fruit, bread, and cheese, so I ordered a selection from Marylebone Market. It’s just arrived.”

“Thank you, but it wasn’t the food that surprised me.” She shook her head and stared bewildered at the bags covering the floor. “You were quite extravagant on your shopping order to your secretary. I just needed a pair of jeans and a sweater.”

He rose from the sofa and putting his hands on her waist, regarded her intently. “Sophia, it is a pleasure to lavish you with gifts. I can and I will. Don’t expect less.” He picked up a half-dozen bags in each hand and brought them over to the sofa. “Sit and eat. I’ll unpack them for you.”

Sophia stood still in the same place, looking at him. He crooked his finger and ordered again, “Sit here by my side. Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, thanks.” She chose a rye, raisin, and caraway bread slice and accepted the steaming mug. “What am I supposed to do with all these things?”

“Take what you want and leave the rest here.” He opened bag after bag and unwrapped tissue after tissue. Clothes began to pile up over the sofa and the armchairs: A dark red-and-brown wool jacket with chocolate trousers, a white silk vest with lace trim, and dark-red alligator leather high heels from Chanel; a cinnamon-color sweater from Prada; a caramel corset belt and a khaki knit dress from Alexander McQueen; an oversized orange merino-wool turtleneck, skinny light jeans, a brown belt and platform boots with knit cuffs from Gucci; a Hermès Kelly bag; a long caramel fox fur Fendi coat; a knitted plum top and a caramel high heel bootie with lamb fur lining from Nina Ricci; caramel deer gloves and chocolate felt hat from Celine; shawls and a pair of silver-metal sunglasses from Louis Vuitton.

He is crazy. Sophia’s eyes widened even more when Ethan took out of the Valentino box a spectacular tawny long-sleeve lace dress, and wondrous cream lace high heels made by Philip Treacy, especially for the Italian designer.

He chuckled, “I knew you would like them.”

“How did you manage to get those, and in my size? I have been looking for them ever since I saw them in Vogue.” Sophia eyed the pair with longing. “They are jewels.”

“They will look great on your feet.” He kissed her lightly. “Give me your foot.” She rested her ankle in his hand and he put the shoe on her foot.

She caressed the shoe with reverence. “It’s… absolutely spectacular.” She turned her foot left and right, admiring the shoe as he kept taking things out of bags.

Fogal Pantyhose. From the finest transparent to opaque, shiny and matt, with lace or Swarovski crystals, various stockings and tights in all kinds of colors and touches.

“Now. The best part.” From a red bag without a logo, he removed a fragile looking lace and silk black baby doll and robe. And silk and tulle embroidered underwear: white-and-light pink; beige-and-brown; pink, green, and violet blue; plum-and-black; and silver. Luxurious and sexy lingerie from La Perla, Agent Provocateur, Kiss Me Deadly, and Made by Niki. He gave her a wicked smile. “I’m dying to peel these off you.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re gay!” She laughed out loud but the amount of push up and wireless bras with matching panties and thongs, bodies and garters he had bought took her aback. “The choices are perfect. You have built me a complete matching wardrobe. But these are too much-”

“No buts. Darling, you don’t know what women usually ask of me. The shops started to send me all their catalogs after they noticed I bought women’s clothes. My secretary is constantly receiving gifts because of her sudden shopping sprees.” He regarded her closely. “You’re the first one that I asked to stay with me and the first one who’s complaining I bought too much.”

Sophia froze and stared at him, openmouthed. Bastard! I should have imagined. I’m just one more in the parade. She stiffened. “So. You’re used to buying things for your women…” She let the annoyed hue in her voice linger.

He raised his eyebrow. “Jealous, baby?”

Jealous? Is he this insensitive? “Jealous?” she derided. If you think goods buy my affection, Ethan, you are so wrong. Clothes and jewelry given without affection and meaning have no value to me. “Jealous of what?” The scorn dripped from her lips. “I have high self-esteem. I don’t need these things.” She dismissed the costly goods with a flick of her elegant hand and rose from her place on the sofa, tugging her bathrobe tighter around her body. “I’m not for sale.” She turned to exit the sitting room. I want much more, Ethan. I want love, friendship and respect.

“Sophia!” He jumped from the sofa, the lingerie tumbling onto the floor, and ran after her, firmly placing his hands on her shoulders. “Hey! I’m not trying to buy you. Nor am I equating you to other women. It was just a slip of the tongue.”

She didn’t move or say a word. She stood stiffly in the middle of his bedroom, head held high.

“Come on, baby, they’re just things. Please, accept them.” He fitted his body to hers, his arms snugging her waist and his head dropping to kiss her shoulder. “I wasn’t even finished.”

She scoffed, “I think you are.”

“Darling, you are invaluable to me. These are just things money can buy. Please?”

She sighed. Maybe I have overreacted; don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, Sophia. “All right. Let me get dressed.” She shook her head at him, smiling. “What do you want me to wear, you crazy man?”

“Hmm. The Gucci look with the skinny jeans. And these.” He selected a matching lace and silk plum and black push-up bra and thong from Agent Provocateur. He put everything in the Gucci bag and handed it to her.

Sophia materialized from the bathroom, clad in her new clothes. They fit her perfectly. “Do you like?” She pivoted for him to see.

His stretched his hand beckoning her to sit beside him. “I love it.”

Sophia bit her lip and his eyes followed the movement. “Don’t.” His thumb caressed and pressed at the center of her mouth. “Drives me crazy,” he murmured.

Oh, God!

“Want more coffee?” As she nodded, he filled her cup and motioned to the table. “Eat. You can’t start your day with only a slice of bread.” Ethan silently watched her eat. “You confound me,” he said quietly.

“I do? Why?” she asked.

“I don’t know what to make of you, baby. Sometimes you seem like a teenage girl and other times, a well lived woman. You act like a very rich person; in the next moment, you don’t care for expensive things. You keep things in the dark, but then again you’re so forthcoming and honest when we talk.” He stared at her. The numerous emotions speeding over her face captivated him. “Who are you? What are you hiding, Sophia? What are you afraid of?”

She gave a nervous laugh and concentrated on her coffee. “It’s your imagination, Ethan. I’m just a private person.”

His hand cupped her face to lift it up. “I’m falling for you, Sophia,” he murmured, his azure eyes flashing.

His words startled her. “Don’t you think it’s too soon to say something like that?”

“You don’t believe in love at first sight?”

“Never happened to me.” She lifted a shoulder and finished her coffee. “Can you call me a taxi? It’s not necessary for you to take me home.”

“Baby, it’ll be my pleasure.” He motioned to the clothes strewn all over the sitting room. “What are you going to take with you?”

“Nothing. Leave the clothes here so when I need something I’ll have them. I’m just taking the lingerie to wash.”

He packed the Valentino dress and the Philip Treacy shoes; wrapped up the lingerie in a tissue and put them into a bag with some of the pantyhose. “Take these. Next time we go out I want to see you in the Valentino dress.”

“Where can I put these things?” she asked, standing up.

“Don’t worry. My housekeeper will arrange them in my dressing room,” he said and picked up the Hèrmes bag. “Here. Put your evening bag inside this.”

She shook her head at herself, baffled and feeling overwhelmed by all those gifts.

He handed her the sunglasses, gloves and the fur coat, arranging it on her shoulders. “Perfect,” he announced and kissed her. “Let’s go.”

Leibowitz Oil Building.

Monday, January 18th, 2010.

9 a.m.

Edward knocked on Sophia’s office door.

The click on the lock informed him Sophia had opened the door and he pushed it, entering the elegant room, she smiled, “Good morning.”

He closed the door behind him and stopped mid-stride, analyzing her fresh face and impossible huge smile. “You got laid,” he stated, pursing his lips.

Sophia blushed. “God, Edward! And they say the British are restrained and reserved.”

“Love, I’m just stating a fact. Nothing more,” he shrugged and sat in front of her. “You look absolutely radiant. Soooo, Mr. Gorgeous was a good partner in bed?”

“Stop this, Edward. You’re using your CEO powers over me to gossip about my sex life.” She flung her pen at him.

He caught in the air, laughing. “Sophia, Sophia. It’s you. You have the power.” He tossed her pen back to her. “You just don’t know how to use it.”

Sophia just shook her head at him. “We have a lot to discuss today.” She cocked her head to one side. “I just got the contract for the new engines,” she frowned. “I’d like you to analyze it with me.” She pulled out a brown envelope and tapped her pen on it. “Have you seen the project the students from the University of Strathclyde are developing?” As he nodded, she continued, “It’s absolutely fantastic. I’m sending a note to Williams from Tech to get a good look at it and report back to me. I think we should invest in them. Maybe we could enroll them in an internship or something. Think about it.” Sophia bit her lip and looked at her notes, underlining one of them. “I’m worried about the loan agreement. I studied the draft Mr. Wales sent. I didn’t like some of the clauses.” She stared at him. “And more, I don’t feel comfortable around him, Edward. There’s something that nags me. I want a meeting with the CEO.”

“Oh, please, Sophia, don’t start.” He thinned his lips. “Just because Wales drools over you?” She shook her head. “Instincts again?” She nodded. “It took me almost three months to get this loan as it is,” he sighed. “The rates are good. The City of London Bank is a well-known institution. What is the problem?”

“I think we can get a lower rate. And have you read the most recent draft?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“I don’t agree with their penalty clauses and they’re asking for too many guaranties. I’m sorry but I’m vetoing it as it is, Edward,” she said, firmly.

“Heavens, Sophia!” He threw his hands in his blond hair, exasperated. “What are you vetoing?”

“Have you negotiated a hundred-and-fifty percent as guaranty?”

“No, of course not,” he balked, surprised.

“I think you should read the draft he has sent and ask for another meeting, urgently. I really don’t want to lose the bidding season for the subsalt oil in Brazil. It’s a potential gold mine of oil and gas reserves, you know. Gabriel was so excited by the discovery of the Tupi field. It is the perfect opportunity for Leibowitz Oil Brazil to forge a more extensive association with the government.”

“What do you propose?”

“We can renegotiate it. I have underlined the clauses for review. Or…” she chewed on her lips, “We could always do an IPO.”

He widened his blue eyes. “You’re going to put LO on the stock market? What would Gabriel think of this?”

“Gabriel was open-minded, Edward. It’s an easy way to raise funds. You can choose; do we have time to renegotiate the contract? If so, go for it. Otherwise, I will grant the loan to LO myself while we prepare the IPO.”

“We’re running out of time. And we definitely have no time to prepare an IPO, Sophia. Besides, I’m not allowing you to make a personal loan. We have dis-” The intercom buzz interrupted him.

“Yes, Sarah?” Sophia said in a displeased voice.

“Mrs. L, I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s Mr. Ashford.”

Sophia rolled her eyes heavenward. “I’m busy, Sarah. Tell him that I’ll call back as soon as possible.”

“Uh, Mrs. L, he’s not on the line.”

“No?” Sophia forehead creased.

“No. He left a message saying he’ll pick you up at one o’clock to take you to lunch. His secretary is on the line; she wants to know where she should make the reservations.”

His secretary! The gall. “In hell,” she muttered.

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. L?” Sarah’s voice sounded shocked from the other side. Edward barked a laugh.

“Sarah, tell Mr. Ashford’s secretary Mrs. Leibo- Mrs. Santo. Heavens, Sophia! You have to decide what name you want to use. This is quite confusing.”

Sophia smiled at him. “Mrs. Santo for those who don’t know who I am. Easy.”

“Right. So, Sarah, tell Mr. Ashford’s secretary Mrs. Santo wants to go to China Tang at The Dorchester,” Edward finished, shaking his head at her.

“Hold on, please, Sarah.” She touched the mute button, “No way, Mr. Davidoff.” She bit her lip. If he wants me to have lunch with him, he should call me. Yes, that’s it. “Sarah, tell Mr. Ashford’s secretary that I don’t have an answer for her. And, please, only call me again if Mr. Ashford himself is on the line. I won’t answer if anyone else calls. Only his or Gabriela’s. Have I made myself clear?”

“Ye-yes, Mrs. L, I’m sorry,” Sarah stammered.

“Poor, poor Sarah,” Edward tsked. “So moody, Sophia. Why didn’t you answer his secretary?”

“Edward. He should call, not his secretary.”

“You haven’t fallen for him,” he shook his head, pity in his eyes.

Sophia thinned her lips. “I like him, Edward. That’s all. Now, if you ple-” The intercom buzzed again. “Oh, damn! Yes, Sarah?”

“Mr. Ashford on line two, Mrs. L. Are you answering the call?” Sarah’s voice sounded apologetic.

“Yes,” she sighed. “Please transfer him.”

“Sophia, darling, good morning.” Ethan’s baritone voice filled the room. “Why didn’t you answer my secretary?”

“Ethan, I don’t go out with secretaries.” Edward smiled at Sophia’s petulant answer. “You want to go out with me, you call me.”

“I see.” He inhaled. “I’m sorry. So, baby, where do you want to have lunch?” Ethan asked.

“Anywhere would be good. I don’t have much time today. Unless you want to make it after two o’clock.”

“Anytime, Sophia. I would like to take you somewhere else after.”

“Where? What for?”

“Surprise, baby. So, where do you want to have lunch?”

“China Tang at The Dorchester,” Sophia raised her brows at Edward, smiling. “Sound good?”

“Splendid. Shall I pick you up at a quarter to two?”

“I said two o’clock, Ethan. I can’t make it earlier today. Will that be okay?”

“Yes, Ms. Santo, ma’am, fine,” he mocked. “Don’t forget to leave some spare time for me after, all right? The whole afternoon, if you can. See you at two.”

Edward smiled at her when Ethan hung up. “He’s eating out of the palm of your hand, Sophia. Completely smitten.”

Sophia made a face at him. “Now, where were we?”

Outside The Dorchester Hotel.

4.03 p.m.

“You got me drunk, Mr. Ashford.” Sophia giggled. “I’m not fit to go back to work like this.”

“Good. I missed you during the weekend. I want to make up for it today.”

His driver opened the door to his Rolls-Royce Phantom Black-tie Edition.

“Wilkins, we’re going to one hundred sixty-five Sloane Street.” Ethan accommodated his long body on the seat and closed the partition between them and the driver. “Promise me you won’t get mad?” He turned sideways and framed her face, his azure eyes sparkling.

“Mad? Why would I get mad?” She looked at him, befuddled.

“Promise me,” he insisted and she nodded, smiling.

“Hmm. Whatever.” She flicked her hand, “I promise.” And giggled. “You really got me tipsy. Why are we going to Sloane Street? I don’t need more clothes.”

“No more clothes,” he agreed. “For now.”

“Aren’t you mysterious, Mr. Ashford?”

“I want another promise from you, Sophia. You’re going to spend the night with me.”

Sophia sobered on the spot. “Tonight?” Oh, damn. Gabriela! I must tell him sometime. How long can I keep it from him? She bit her lip.

“Please, baby?” he huskily asked and his thumb caressed her mouth with a light touch. “You have to stop doing this.” His mouth descended to conquer her lips in a sensuous kiss. He twisted her long braid on his wrist, keeping her pinned to him. “Promise me, Sophia.”

“Ethan… I can’t. Tomorrow, I promise.”

“So be it,” he sighed. “But spend this afternoon with me. Wilkins can take you home after dinner,” he offered.

“Before dinner. Seven o’clock.” She kissed him lightly. “It’s the best I can do.”

“Are you going out this evening?” His demeanor darkened.

“No. I have a contract to review.” Yeah, she’s a blonde, blue-eyed three-year-old contract.

The car parked in front of a brick building. Ethan leaped out and held his hand for Sophia.

“Remember your promise,” he insisted as Sophia stepped on the pavement and looked around warily. “Shall I blindfold you?”

“Blindfold me? What for? I promised I wouldn’t get mad and you said we weren’t going shopping.”

“I said we weren’t buying more clothes,” he corrected and guided her by the hand in the direction of a jewelry shop.

Sophia planted her heels on the ground.

“You won’t make a scene in the middle of Sloane Street, will you?” He stared back at her. “You promised.”

“Ethan… Please. There is no need for this.” His generosity and domineering behavior distressed her. At Christmas, he had already given her a whole set of jewels. “I don’t feel comfortable with so many gifts.”

“Indulge me, please, baby,” he asked her sweetly.

How can I say no? She let him tow her into the shop.

The instant they entered it, a beautiful woman came to greet them with a big smile on her face.

“I’m Ethan Ashford,” he smiled and the woman melted at his charm. “We have an appointment with Mr. Arkade.”

“Of course. He’s expecting you, Mr. Ashford.” The woman eyed Sophia speculatively, taking notice of her purple three quarter sleeve wool dress from Carolina Herrera with a deep V-neckline and classic multicolored patchwork bag, black lambskin high heel booties, and long black lambskin gloves from Chanel. She opened a door at the end of the shop and motioned them to follow. “May I take your coats?” Sophia handed her dark gray overcoat trimmed with purple and lilac fox fur and Ethan gave her his black one. “Please, be seated. Mr. Arkade will be here in a moment. Would you like something to drink?”

I don’t need jewels, Ethan. I have so many that Gabr-Understanding dawned on her when she remembered his words on the restaurant. This is jealousy and it’s absolutely ridiculous, Ethan. It’s abuse. You’re trying to dictate what I can wear while I am with you. “Still water, please.” Sophia took off her gloves.

“The same for me.” Ethan smiled at the woman who grinned at him, bewitched by his charm.

“Is it always like this?” asked Sophia, amused.

“Like what?” he frowned.

“Women falling at your feet?” She giggled. “Oh, my. I can’t believe I just said that out loud.” She put a hand on her mouth. “Mr. Ashford, you’re a danger to my sanity.”

He grinned at her. “The only woman I’m interested in is here in this room.” His blue eyes flamed. “Let me see your watch.”

She extended her arm for him to look at her Franck Muller Aeternitas Mega Four with rubies.

“Take it off, please,” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Why not?” He frowned. “Is it a fake?”

“Of course not.” She replied with indignation. “It’s a work of art.”

“Yes, it is. It is one of the most complex wristwatches in the world, looked at in three hundred and sixty degrees.” He eyed her sideways, “Please?”

Sophia relented.

As he turned the watch, he noticed an engraving on the leather bracelet.

‘Para G., o amor da minha vida.

Eternamente sua, S. 27/09/2002.’

“What is written here?” he asked.

Oh, damn. Mr. Jealousy is about to enter the room. “For G., the love of my life. Forever yours, S.”

He stiffened. “Who is G?”

She sighed. “My late husband.”

His hand closed around the watch, his knuckles white. “You got married when you were eighteen years old?” he thundered.

“Ethan… Please.” She opened her hand to receive the watch back.

“You didn’t answer my question.” His anger was boiling.

“I married when I was seventeen. On September the twenty-seventh, two thousand one.”

“You were a child. How old was he?” His azure eyes were bright.

“Give me back my watch.” She thinned her lips.

“I don’t think so!” he threatened. “Answer me.”

“I don’t discuss my husband. Not with you, not with anyone. I don’t feel like it. It’s a part of my life that has ended.” God! The man is more than just jealous. “Give me my watch back. My husband is dead. Six feet under. Cold and alone.” Her voice choked and she snatched the watch from his hand. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?” I wish I weren’t; I wish I were buried with Gabriel. “Why are you spoiling for a fight? Do you want me to leave?” Her low, sorrowful voice and withheld tears cut deep within him. They were worse than shouts.

“No,” he stared at her, surprised, “no.” His thumbs dried the wetness on her eyes. “Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I’ve told you I don’t like you using things other men gave you.”

She pleaded with a susurrus, “Let’s not argue about this, please.” God! Gabriel gave me everything! I was married for almost seven years!

The woman knocked on the door, bringing two crystal glasses of water on a small silver salver. She put the glasses on the table and hastily exited the room, returning with Mr. Arkade and trays plus trays loaded with jewels.

“Mr. Ashford, it’s an honor to receive you again.” He shook hands with Ethan and nodded at Sophia. “Mademoiselle, it’s a pleasure.”

Sophia acknowledged the little man. What am I doing there? I’m no frivolous woman to accept jewels from a man I barely know. More jewels, Sophia, remember. More jewels.

“So, Mr. Ashford, do you have something specific in mind?”

“It’s up to the lady. But I thought about Van Cleef.” He turned to Sophia. “You like Van Cleef, don’t you? Perhaps you prefer something different?”

“Anything you feel like. I love Van Cleef.”

Mr. Arkade motioned for his assistant to put the trays on the table and started sorting through them. “I have some beautiful butterfly diamond clips and necklaces.”

“Ah… Nothing with butterflies, please.”

“Why not?” Ethan asked her.

She grimaced. “I-I’ll explain later,” she stammered.

“Any preference of color or gem?”

“Sapphires, emeralds, rubies, and diamonds.” Ethan enumerated the gems as if they were buttons. “Do you have the new catalogue?”

“Louise, could you please…” Mr. Arkade asked.

Louise handed Ethan a leather covered book. “This is the latest one, sir. Of course, we have the others. As you know Van Cleef is timeless.”

He waved her to put the other catalogues on the table as he peered through the first book. “Hmm… I’d like to see this,” he showed something to the woman, “and the matching complements.” He turned over two more pages. “Also this set with the matching ring.” He passed some more pages and leafed back, “and this one. Come on, Sophia, take a look at the others.”

“Ethan, I’m sure I’m going to like what you have chosen,” she murmured and drank her water, licking her lips.

He leaned in her direction and breathed in her ear. “Do that again and I will buy you the entire shop!”

She bit her bottom lip.

He tsked and his eyes flamed, sparkling blue fire.

Louise returned with big black velvet trays. The first displayed an exquisite set of beaded sapphires and diamonds: a remarkable necklace, earrings, and two rings. “This is the Medusa set.” She looked at Sophia. “You can detach the clip,” she demonstrated, “and the necklace becomes all diamond. Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sophia nodded, so uncomfortable she became speechless. “I brought both rings so you could choose.”

She gave the other tray to Ethan. “The Makis set, sir.” A stunning bracelet with flowers, leaves, and a tiny lemur with matching earrings, an extraordinary clip, and a wondrous necklace. Beaded emeralds, carved rubellites, black spinel, and diamonds. Cute tiny lemurs appeared everywhere. “Mr. Ashford, this clip turns into a pendant.” She showed Ethan the back of the clip.

Louise is going to sell him everything.

“That’s it! Perfect.” He showed it to Sophia. “Do you like them?”

She picked up the bracelet in awe. “It’s a timepiece, isn’t it?” she asked Mr. Arkade and he bobbed his head at her with a big grin on his odd face. “It’s… exquisite.” She fingered the tiny lemur and opened the flower that covered the watch.

“Put the necklace on, Sophia,” Ethan coached.

I’m not selling my soul. She put the bracelet back on the tray. “These are fit for a queen.”

“You are my queen,” he whispered in her ear. “Please.”

Please? This is smothering. She frowned, uncertain, she bit her lip and tried the less grand of the rings. If only there was something less expensive on these two trays.

“Now,” he breathed and his hand cupped her chin, his thumb caressing her lip. “You like the sapphire set?”

God… What should I do? “I cannot accept, Ethan.”

“Choose something different, then.” His disappointment visible on his face.

Can’t he understand? This is too much and too soon. I’m not his mistress. Nor I am his wife.

He motioned his hand to the other trays.

“You didn’t like it, ma’am?” Mr. Arkade’s smile waned.

Sophia looked at his face and took pity. “It’s not that I didn’t like them, sir. Far from it,” she murmured and looked at Ethan. “They’re dazzling, but it’s too much.” She put her hand over his. “Really, there is no need. Choose something simpler.”

“You liked it?” Ethan asked again; she bit her lip and nodded. “We’re taking both.” He leaned toward her and murmured. “You’re doing it again.” He turned to the little man. “Mr. Arkade, my driver is going to come by to pick up both sets in half an hour. I expect you at my office tomorrow by ten.” He rose, concluding the purchase. “Louise?” He bestowed a smile on the woman. “I see that you have exceptional good taste.” Louise liquefied into a puddle at his feet. “Please, add a diamond necklace for the Makis clip.”

“Of course, Mr. Ashford.” Louise ran to get their coats and helped Sophia put hers on her shoulders.

Sophia rose on her tiptoes and kissed Ethan on the lips, “Thank you. I loved both.” She put on her gloves.

“I’m glad. Now you’re only missing some watches.”

She shook her head, smiling.

Wilkins appeared less than two minutes after Ethan called him.

Ethan entered the car after her, ordering on the intercom, “Home, please, Wilkins.”

She took off her gloves and caressed his jaw, his beard softly tinkling the palm of her hand. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I’d rather you refrained from your purchase impulses. I don’t feel altogether at ease with so many gifts. It’s smothering me.” And I like what I have at home. This is completely wrong, Sophia. Completely wrong.

He caged her face in his hands and gave her a long, overwhelming kiss distracting her from her musings. “Baby, you’ll have to learn,” he said huskily. “So, what am I bound to discover under this dress of yours?” His hand wandered up her thigh and his smile turned naughty.

The desire on his face awakened Sophia’s. “Aren’t we impatient today, Mr. Ashford?”

“Jesus, Sophia,” he breathed when his fingers touched her skin, “you turn me on like no woman has ever done. I want you. Here, now.”

She froze. She opened and shut her mouth twice before she could speak, “Here?”

“It’s big enough,” he said trailing kisses along her jaw and neck, “I have been giving this idea some thought. Why not try it?” He raised his head to look at her and spoke on her lips, “To start with.” The rich tone of his baritone voice washed over her and he kissed her, his tongue traced her lips and dipped in her mouth, coaching, caressing, yearning.

Why not? Because it is fifteen minutes max to his apartment, you idiot. But… Yeah. No. No, definitively, no. “Ethan, it’s too near.” She looked out at the window. “We’re almost there.”

“I can order Wilkins to drive until I say so,” his hand stretched to touch the intercom and she gripped his wrist.

“No. Absolutely not,” she stood her ground. “We can kiss, we can fondle, but we aren’t doing it in the car. At least, not today.”

“Okay, okay,” he put his palms up, in a peaceful gesture and then picked her up in his arms and settled her on his lap. “So, Ms. Santo,” he said with a wicked smile, “let me fondle you until the garage.”

Sophia! You and your big mouth. She started to scold herself but her thoughts scattered away as his fingers brushed aside her panties and gently touched her. “Oh, Ethan,” she breathed and let her head fall back on the car window.

He shifted angling his head to kiss her and her fingers threaded through his silky hair, clenching it and pulling him down for a hard kiss.

She felt his arousal against her thigh as she wiggled under his expert ministrations.

He kissed her neck, her shoulder, and pushed aside the top of the sleeve with his mouth and kissed the place he’d bared. He lifted his head and she thought he’d given up, but then he inhaled deeply and put the fingers he fondled her with in his mouth. And sucked.

Sophia gasped at the erotic scene and threw away reason, “Dammit,” she exclaimed and straddled him, her hands fumbling impatiently with his belt and the zipper of his trousers.

She reached down and placed her hand over his tented underwear where his erection pushed against the cloth.

His warm and deep chuckle filled the car as he raised his hips to push down his clothes and his mouth descended on her neck, scattering kisses along the neckline. He brushed her dress aside, his tongue dipping under the lace edging the bodice’s neckline.

She undid his pale yellow tie and opened the first buttons of his shirt, putting her open mouth on his neck and palming his chest. The clean and masculine scent drifting from his skin turned her on even more.

He pushed down her neckline and his hand closed over her flimsy lace bra, his thumb caressing her nipple.

She gasped. Pleasure raced through her and warmth pooled between her legs as he bent his head and suckled the nipple in his mouth, tugging at it lightly with his teeth. She moaned louder, running her hands along his chest to his shoulders, and dug her fingers into his hair, scrapping her nails on his scalp.

He tore his mouth away from her breast and she protested with a low sound from the back of her throat. She opened her clear eyes to discover Ethan watching her closely.

His hand moved up under the dress, sliding over her stocking and over the garter and up. He grabbed her tiny lace thong and ripped it, his fingers caressing her intimately.

She let out a low cry as he stroked her. “Now, please, now,” she begged. She felt wanton, as she never imagined she could. Sophia, you’re in a car, for God’s sake. She shooed the thought away.

“Sophia,” he moaned as she stroked up and down his length.

“Please, Ethan,” she rose onto her knees, positioning herself and put her hands on his shoulders for leverage.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said thickly and entered her with one swift thrust of his hips.

She threw her head back and gasped with pleasure.

“You are mine, Sophia. Mine,” he murmured as he held her hips, diving into her hard and fast.

She lifted her yellow-diamond eyes to meet the blistering azure of his gaze and ran the tip of her tongue over his lips. She licked his jaw.

He made a sound deep in his chest, a laugh and a groan combined as he lost himself in the pleasure, just as she was. He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her deeply. Demanding and possessing, he thrust and fingered her.

The car moved slowly through traffic and they were oblivious to everything but themselves.

She pushed down the other side of her dress neckline and brushed aside her bra, grasping her breasts, offering them to him as she moved up and down, slowly.

“Jesus, Sophia,” he took a breast in his mouth and suckled.

Her face sank into the hollow of his neck. She kissed and nibbled him, deranged with the unexpected danger she felt from being exposed.

He pushed again.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Oh, Ethan.”

She bit his suit on the shoulder to muffle her shout of pleasure. She loved the feel of him inside, filling her. She tensed up as he groaned and thrust fiercely.

The pleasure tightened and spiked, rising high. Higher and higher. And burst, flooding her with heat and warmth, making her dizzy with its force.

Crazy. He held her tightly while she came back to herself. “Sophia,” he said, when he could find his voice. You are crazy, Ethan.

“Oh,” she gasped softly. “You are crazy. We are crazy.”

He drew back a little to look at her, with a smile on his face. She has telepathic powers.

She gazed at him dreamily, “You have no inhibitions, have you?”

“I do. But I lose control when I’m with you. I’ve never made love in a car.”

She stroked his beard, “Neither have I.”

The warmth of their lovemaking fogged the windows, and his mind started to thicken again along with his arousal, still inside her. He took her hand and kissed it. As he did so, his gaze strayed to the tinted window. “Curse it,” he blurted.

“What?” she demanded in a murmur, her forehead still on his shoulder. “What?”

“We have arrived,” he said, adjusting his trousers. “Here,” he extended a handkerchief to her and ran his fingers over her hair combing the wisps that had escaped her braid.

“It’s okay,” she said, stuffing his soiled handkerchief in her purse and picking up her gloves and coat from the floor of the Rolls Royce. She smiled naughtily at him, “You are debauching me, Mr. Ashford. I should be working. Instead, I’m having sex with you on the backseat of your car with your driver in the front, probably listening.”

He shook his head amused. “Of course he was not listening, Sophia. The glass is soundproof.”

The car parked in the garage and Wilkins got out and opened the door for her with an impassive face.

Sophia blushed and looked at Ethan, who just laughed and whispered in her ear, “I can assure you he doesn’t know what happened here. Come on, baby, let’s move this to the bed.”

“Ethan, Ethan,” she shook her head at his eagerness and exited the car with a bright smile on her face.

5.35 p.m.

Sophia waited for Ethan in his sitting room. She pulled 1984 from the shelf and leafed through it.

Ethan approached her from behind and put his arms around her and inhaled her scent. “You smell so good, my darling. What are you reading?” He perused the book over her shoulder, “George Orwell?”

“I read this book when I was very young. It made a huge impression in me. Do you remember the book well?” She turned in his arms to watch his face.

“Yes. Why?”

“Room 101. Have you ever imagined being in a room with your worst fear?”

He looked at her askance, “No. Never. Why, Sophia, I don’t even know what my worst fear is. Not rats, for sure,” he chortled.

“Mine is moths and butterflies.”

“You’re kidding,” he laughed this time. “I don’t believe it.”

“I’m serious. I loathe butterflies and moths. That’s why I said earlier today that I didn’t wear jewelry depicting these insects. That room was the most effective and horrible torture I could ever imagine undergoing,” she shuddered.

Ethan hugged her, “Don’t worry, darling, no one is going to torture you.”

Chapter 6

London, The City, Victoria Embankment.

The City of London Bank Headquarters.

Wednesday, January 20th, 2010.

10.10 a.m.

Alistair Connor MacCraig entered the meeting room from the connecting door of his office. The room was empty. He looked at his vintage Patek Philip Perpetual Calendar Moonphase.

Wales is already ten minutes late. Alistair didn’t do late. He opened the door to the reception room, looked around and noticed the back of two heads, one dark, one fair, inclined close together, engaged in an intimate conversation. He motioned for his personal assistant to come in. “MacKeenan, could you please let Mr. Wales know that he is late while I start the meeting?”

Sophia looked at her watch and whispered to Edward, “I hate waiting.”

“Heavens, Sophia. It’s only been ten minutes.” He smiled at her. “How did you cope with Gabriela’s pregnancy?”

Her hazel eyes sparkled and the corners of her lips twisted. “Perfectly fine. I was already working then and if I was bored I just invented a new idea for her room or bought something new for her.”

“Poor, poor Gabriel,” he chuckled.

“Poor Gabriel?” She giggled, remembering how protective and overwhelming her husband had been. “Poor, poor me! He panicked when I told him I was pregnant. In the last month, he almost locked me inside the apartment.” She repressed a laugh and whispered to him. “When I told him it was time to go the hospital, I thought he was going to faint.”

The secretary approached them. “Mr. MacCraig is ready to receive you. This way, please.”

“Sophia, let me do the talking,” Edward whispered in her ear before entering the meeting room.

She paused at the tall, wide door, raised one eyebrow, looked at him, and made a face.

Men! “Trust me, Edward, I won’t put my foot in my mouth.” She put a hand on his arm, squeezed and stepped into the room.

Alistair scowled at his watch again and turned to look out at the London skyline. A well-known boredom took over his soul.

Another unvaried, insipid day. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. Every day is the same. Will light ever come back to my wearisome life? He heard the room door open again.

Another dull meeting discussing this contract. Today, I’ll get this account. At least, something to brighten my day. He pasted a smile on his face, turned on his heels and steeped forward to greet the CEO of Leibowitz Oil. But he stopped dead in his tracks.

Suddenly, Alistair’s private sun shed a bright ray of light from behind the dark, heavy clouds that had enclosed his life for more than five years.

Fuck! Davidoff is accompanied by a woman. A magnificent beauty. His world spun on its axis, leaving him lightheaded. He watched, paralyzed, as she paused at the door, made a teasing face at Davidoff, rested an elegant hand on his arm, spoke something, and gave him a reassuring smile.

Are they lovers? The thought annoyed him. Why, he didn’t know. The woman advanced a few steps and looked around the room, halting with parted lips when her gaze locked with his. He felt unsettled. She has the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen. Black as night and endless as the universe. Her flawless and honey-dipped skin. Her light hazel eyes, fringed by long raven lashes. Her thin and straight nose and her mouth… Christ! Her mouth is full and moist. Red. No lipstick, no gloss, just a natural, lush, fucking mouth.

His gaze surveyed her as she looked at Edward. Her long and slender neck. And she’s biting her full bottom lip and I… I’m getting an erection from this simple action. Ah. Fuck. The way she just licked her lips. His cock applauded and he gave himself a brisk mental shake. For Christ’s sake, Alistair Connor. You’re not a horny teenager anymore.

His eyes remained glued to her as she moved in his direction, taking in the movements of her long elegant hands flattening her dress onto her body. Desire shot hotter through him. Lean, voluptuous body. Her legs… Is she a model? He cocked his head to the side. No, not tall enough. What is she doing here? Alistair shook himself inward. Stop this. Stop! It’s just another woman. And much too young. Most likely a trainee or Davidoff’s assistant. In all probability, she’s sharing his bed.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She has an angelic aura around her, but… He knew women. They fell at his feet everyday offering their bodies for money and status. This one won’t be any different. Christ, I really am a cynic. Come now, Alistair Connor, this is work. He smiled and extended his hand.

Sophia looked around the room and froze dumbstruck. Her heart gave a slam and stopped in her chest. She forgot how to breathe.

A man stared at her. Fixedly, intensely, consuming her. She couldn’t exactly make out his features because of the light coming through the windows.

He remained motionless. He was so muscular and so tall, so large that his frame shadowed the light that came into the room from the enormous glass windows. His height intimidated even more because of his massive shoulders and broad chest, which were not at all hidden by the extremely well-tailored dark charcoal suit, white shirt, and blue-and-green striped tie. His stare never wavered from hers, piercing her soul.

He must workout daily. Sophia, focus!

She squinted to have a better look of his face. The exceedingly handsome features and forest-green eyes struck her core. These are the most wonderful eyes I’ve seen in my whole life. They were intense, so intense that they seemed to burst into green flames, enhanced by ink-dark, long and full lashes. His slightly tanned skin. Perfect. God was inspired when He made him. He seemed designed by an Italian master painter.

The man had jet-black hair, worn in an unfashionable way, longer than usual, with uneven, long shredded bangs on the left side of his face and jagged ends, falling in straight and thick strands to his shoulders, almost past them.

Windblown! Sophia had never seen a sexier haircut. If it was cut at all.

It seemed he had scissored cut them himself. And in a hurry. He had a straight nose, high cheekbones, chiseled large jaw. His upper lip was thin, but extremely well shaped and his bottom lip was… Delicious. Pink lips. Dark. Pink. Lips. Unconsciously, Sophia wetted her own lips with a sensuous glide of her tongue and felt desire building in her body. I want to lick these lips.

He absentmindedly brushed aside a lock of midnight-black hair when it fell over his eyes, smoothing out his stern and stiff stance. She wished she could repeat the gesture herself. To delve her hands into that hair and grip it to bring his head to her and kiss those dark-pink lips.

How could pink be so male? Sophia shook her head, as if to free herself from the spell that he had cast on her. But he had ensnared her in his trap. She turned to glance at Edward, who stood behind her, as if asking his permission. She bit her lip.

Permission? Permission to do what? She didn’t know. It seemed Edward knew, because he gave a small imperceptible nod.

She walked in the man’s direction. Step–by-step, as her high heels sank into the plush carpet, her body seemed to move in slow motion. Sophia became conscious of her light pink YSL dress with a large turquoise alligator belt.

Her hand ran down her stomach and thighs to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles of her dress. His eyes followed her movement, appraising her. She almost choked with the force of his lustful gaze.

Sophia halted less than two feet from him. Oh, my. He looks like a god, a perfect Roman statue in flesh, oozing raw sensuality… She craned her neck to look at his six foot six stature and his eyes. God! These eyes… They see through me. His mouth… It’s totally succulent… And it’s moving. Damn.

He spoke to her and she hadn’t understood a word.

She looked down and saw he had stretched out his hand to her. In a haze, she put her suddenly cold hand in his warm one and he closed his around hers. A shock flared her blood into lava.

“I-I’m sorry?” she stammered.

“Alistair Connor MacCraig, CEO of The City of London Bank. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he repeated and raised a devilish black eyebrow at her speechless state. Aye, it’s always the same. Another one falling for handsome features and body. Pity. But, fuck it. Wasn’t I bored? Why not have some fun? Showtime, Alistair Connor.

“Good morning, MacCraig. This is our-” Edward said from directly behind her.

“Sophia Santo.” Sophia recovered from her state of bewilderment and shook his hand.

A firm, pleasant handshake. Good. He eyed her again from head to toe.

“I’m head of the legal department at Leibowitz Oil, Mr. MacCraig. How do you do?”

“Head of the legal department?” Alistair’s smile waned. “Any problem with the contract, Davidoff?” He greeted Davidoff and motioned to the table. “Please, let’s sit. Mr. Wales will arrive any moment now. Could I offer any refreshments? Water, tea, coffee?” He pressed a button on the wireless telephone that sat on a side table.

“Coffee and water would be fine, thanks.” Sophia seated herself at the head of the table and received a startled gaze from Alistair that she countered with raised brows and an inquisitive look.

“Davidoff? Anything?”

“The same, please.”

While he asked for the refreshments, he noticed Sophia glancing at her watch and thinning her lips. He glanced at his. Damn. Wales is really late.

“Mr. MacCraig, Mr. Davidoff assured me that you were fully aware of the contract terms and that we could discuss them with you. Shall we start?”

He looked at Davidoff, who glared at her. “If it pleases you. So, Ms. Santo-”

“Mrs. Santo,” she corrected him. “My points,” and she emphasized the plural, “are…” she raised her left hand to stress the points.

He noticed that her bare ring finger. Interesting! Mrs. Santo doesn’t wear a marriage band.

“-fees are too high; secondly, the guaranties asked are exaggerated; and lastly, the penalty clauses are absurd.” She took out four copies of the draft from her briefcase, handing one to him, the other to Edward, and kept two.

Hmm. Organized. His copy was all marked and noted. Her handwriting appeared neat, clean, and firm, with a touch of swirls showing her feminine side. The right amount of flourish and power. Feminine and bold. I like that. Mrs. Santo isn’t prudish.

She leafed through her copy. “If you please look at clause number eleven you will see that you’re demanding a hundred and fifty percent as guaranty for the loan. We are a solid firm, Mr. MacCraig, there’s no reason for this.”

He flicked his eyes at an impassive Davidoff. Seems that she’s more than a gorgeous face on a wondrous body. Mrs. Santo has brains and wields power. “I should say, Mrs. Santo that we demand this percentage because of the large loan amount, it is a long-term loan and we’re charging you quite a low rate of interest.”

“Maybe you think so. We don’t.” Sophia didn’t even look at Edward. She could see from the corner of her eye his unhappiness with her. “With such a high guaranty we surely could find a cheaper way of raising funds. You’re making exaggerated claims. We aren’t devoid of other possibilities or in such a hurry. I perfectly understand that your bank is a private institution and what your main goal is.” She leaned his direction.

Christ! He noticed the swell of her breasts pushing the neckline. He wished for an even lower neckline.

“But ours is the same and-”

MacKeenan entered the room with the refreshments and speedily served them. “Mr. Wales arrives momentarily, Mr. MacCraig,” he informed.

“Thank you, MacKeenan,” Alistair nodded. “So, you were saying…”

Edward used the gap to jump into the conversation. “What Mrs. Santo is trying to convey is that the conditions are too harsh and that we could arrange for milder fees-”

The door opened and Charles Wales came in. The men rose to greet him, but Sophia stayed seated, making a show of looking at her watch.

Aye, Wales is definitely late. It appears she detests unpunctuality as much as I do. Another point for you, Mrs. Santo.

“Miss San-”

“Mrs. Santo,” Sophia muttered dryly, interrupting him. “Seems that your memory fails you, Mr. Wales,” and she rose an eyebrow, “as always.”

Wales continued as if nothing had happened and his gaze leered over her figure. “A pleasure to see you again.” He extended his hand and Sophia handed him a copy of the contract, avoiding his hand, being nearly uncivil.

Alistair observed the weird exchange with keen eyes. Something’s wrong here.

Sophia impatiently drilled her nails on the glass tabletop.

Long dark-red nails! How did I not notice them before? What would they feel against my back? He almost hissed with the imaginable pleasure. Are her toenails painted the same shade? Alistair caught himself wondering how she would behave in bed. Rather, in his bed.

He speculated about her, watching her graceful and sophisticated movements as Wales proceeded with the dull explanations about interest and guaranties. Who is this woman? Not the lawyer, but the beauty that goes home every day to her husb- Husband! She’s married, Alistair Connor. You don’t do married women.

His gaze wandered to Wales, who drooled over her unabashedly. He pictured her as Wales was surely doing. Naked. This is disconcerting. Perhaps she’s Davidoff’s secret weapon? I should have guessed by the way she ambled in my direction that she had passion in her veins, but she seems so self-control-

“-Craig?” Edward asked, taking Alistair’s head out of the clouds.

Double fuck! I have to rein in these wayward thoughts. “Pardon?”

Davidoff smiled at him with a knowing look in his blue eyes.

Aye. Secret weapon.

“Page thirty-three, the penalty clauses,” Edward informed with his smile widening. He was sure of the Sophia’s effect on the huge man in front of him.

Alistair browsed the contract and quickly apprehended the notes in the margin. What the fuck? Alistair stiffened on the chair and looked at Wales, Davidoff, and then at Sophia. A sardonic look imprinted on her face. She delicately raised a raven eyebrow and tapped her left index finger on the center of her mouth. Christ! Her mouth. He looked down at the penalty clauses to distract himself from her mouth. These are absurd!

“I can see you have made some pertinent notes on these clauses, Mrs. Santo. I’m sure I can arrange to settle them somewhat differently.” He gave her a charming smile. She wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue and drilled her red long nails on the glass covering the wooden table. If this continues, I’ll be unable to stand when the meeting ends. She narrowed her eyes at him, changing her stance. Oh, come on… you can do better than this, Alistair Connor. He wanted the Leibowitz Oil account and now he wanted this woman to bend to his will. Let’s see how much longer she resists me.

Alistair swung the chair in her direction, casually crossed his legs and, slightly bending his torso, stared deeply into her eyes, not concealing his desire. “What do you desire, Mrs. Santo?” He asked in his deep, husky voice, letting the double entendre hang in the air.

Sophia’s mouth went dry and she tilted her head to the side. God. What just hit me? Her lips parted and she forgot what she needed to say.

Edward came to Sophia’s rescue again. “Exactly what is written, MacCraig.”

Oh, hell, Mr. MacCraig, you are so not doing this. Sophia snapped out of her reverie. Don’t push your luck, Mr. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. This is business. “Let me be honest, Mr. MacCraig.” She put her jeweled dragon Cartier pen on the contract with finality and entwined her long fingers in an elegant gesture, shifting in her chair to lean away from him. “These penalties are incompatible with a firm of our size and solidity. The fees and guaranty clauses are inconsistent with our corporate policy. You’re dealing with Leibowitz Oil, for God’s sake.” She looked quickly at Edward, who nodded his head slightly. Alistair’s gaze followed the exchange. “You can do better than this, Mr. MacCraig.” She gave him a knowing smile.

Christ! Can she read my thoughts? How good is she?

“And?” Alistair asked poker-faced. How old could she be? Twenty-two? Please, I have five times her experience.

“We’d like you to modify the highlighted terms as best you can. We could set another meeting to-”

Wales interrupted, “Miss Santo, I have told you before. These are our final conditions. Every time you postpone the signing of this contract you waste a business opportunity for Leibowitz,” Wales, undiplomatic, put forth and continued pushing her, “you have more to lose than us.”

Sophia’s temper snapped. “Mr. Wales, I think you haven’t properly researched Leibowitz Oil. This loan,” she tapped the contract with her pen, “is just a means to expand our business. We’re doing extremely well without it, no thanks to you.”

“If I may say, Miss Santo, since the death of Gabriel Leibowitz and the disappearance of his wife and daughter, Leibowitz Oil has lost a great deal of its credibility,” Wales sneered at her. “It’s sinking without him. We’re your salvation.”

Alistair watched as Sophia paled.

“I don’t see what the lives of Mr. Leibowitz’s widow and child have to do with the company, sir,” Sophia murmured dryly.

“Well, although Davidoff has been doing great in steering the company, everyone knows that Mr. Leibowitz was the brains behind it. It was said that his widow was very astute, but rumor has it she is dead.” When Wales finished, Sophia swayed in her chair and Edward leaped to steady her.

Alistair’s eyes sent daggers in Wales’s direction. Shut up, you idiot. “Davidoff, I’ll ask the legal department to review these clauses and Wales will-”

“MacCraig, seems to me that Wales doesn’t know whom he’s talking to.” Edward’s voice had the sharp edge of barely controlled rage.

Aye, it seems Wales has really fucked up this time.

“I think we have concluded our business with your bank, Mr. MacCraig.” Sophia rose and leaned on Edward, who wrapped an arm around her, snaking it around her waist, offering protection, comfort, and support. Immediately, the other two men rose.

Close, aren’t you? Alistair noticed every nuance of the embrace. This woman is the key to the account. I was so sure I would sign this contract today.

It was Wales’s turn to pale. “Mrs. Santo… Please, sit. I’m sure we can find-”

Ah. Not Miss anymore? “We no longer have anything to discuss with you, Mr. Wales,” she stated, her voice as cold as the Arctic.

“Mrs. San-” he tried to insist.

“I’ll handle this, Wales,” Alistair intervened, raising a hand to halt more damage. “Mrs. Santo, if there is anything I could personally do…”

“We, at Leibowitz, don’t base our conclusions or business decisions on rumors,” she dripped acid, “and, Mr. MacCraig,” she look deeply into his eyes, any hint of the previous desire gone, “if you really want to do business with us, you will have to accept the terms. Our terms, from now on.”

She calmly put her pen in her bag and packed her draft and Edward’s in her briefcase, closing it firmly. She held her hand out to Alistair and he enveloped it with his much bigger one.

Cold, so cold. He looked at her pale face and his anger shimmered. Fuck. Wales has overstepped now.

“I bid you good day, Mr. MacCraig,” she said softly, staring into his beautiful green eyes. Searching. For what exactly, she didn’t know.

Sophia left the room with a cool demeanor that wouldn’t deter Alistair for a second.

Mayfair. Hibiscus.

9 p.m.

“You never talk about your husband. Why?” Ethan asked after ordering their dinner. He hated the man, but he wanted to know everything about her, even if it pained him to hear about Sophia and another man. Knowledge is power.

“It’s painful.” She breathed, “You can’t imagine what it’s like to lose the person you love until it happens.”

“I see.” Pain; this I understand. “When did he die?”

“Two-thousand-eight.” Don’t give away too much. He’s too smart.

“And your brothers and sisters? Parents?”

Sophia smiled. “I have one brother, that you’ve met, and three sisters, Carolina, Valentina, the one you met, and Victoria, Valentina’s twin.”

Ethan smiled and shifted slightly on the sofa they were sharing, repositioning his body to look at her better.

Sophia blossomed under his attention. He looked at her with so much interest that she easily spilled out her entire life to him. Careful, Sophia. You still don’t know this man.

“You’re not hungry?” He looked at her, concerned, as the waiter took away her almost full plate. She had pushed around the food, taking tiny bites. “You barely ate. You’re thinner than when I met you.”

The waiter brought their dessert and served them.

Sophia smiled at Ethan. “Don’t mind me. The food was delicious, a surprising combination of flavors. I loved it.” She picked up her dessert spoon and dipped it in the Bakewell tart with clotted cream ice cream and cherry gel. “Don’t worry.” She flicked her hand. “I was dying to taste this.” She closed her mouth around the spoon and moaned.

Ethan leaned in her direction, brushed her hair from her face, and spoke huskily in her ear. “And I, I’m dying to taste you again, baby.”

Desire shot through her body. “You can ask for the check.” Her breath hitched, “I don’t want coffee.”

He immediately signaled for the waiter and his hand went up her thigh, sliding under her Valentino dress. “What are you wearing today?” he whispered, biting her earlobe.

“It’s a surprise,” she informed him hoarsely. “Behave. We’re in a restaurant.”

“Jesus!” His blue eyes went electric when his hand touched the skin between her stocking and garter. “You take my breath away, Sophia.”

He barely looked at the bill the waiter brought, flinging cash on the black leather case. He desired that woman. Jesus! I can’t get enough of her.

Ethan had a huge erection by the time he parked in his garage. If he had been in his Rolls, he would have had her right in the car. The Porsche is too small for the two of us.

As soon as his private lift doors closed he backed her up on its wall and kissed her hard, his hand grabbing her hair to pin her in place and pressing his hips to hers.

He dragged her behind him when they arrived on his floor without a word, going directly to his room. He was eager to touch her skin. He shed his overcoat and blazer and threw them on the sofa in the sitting room; he did the same with her fur coat. He burrowed his head in her neck and licked her throat.

She moved her head to the side, giving him full access, as she undid the buttons of his shirt, the tip of her fingers caressing his chest. Her nails scorched his nipples lightly and he grunted softly. Her dress fell on the floor and he backed away to look at her.

His eyes widened and a hungry grin graced his face. Jesus! Beige-and-brown sheer lingerie and belt garters with sheer lace top stockings.

He dropped to his knees and buried his nose on the apex of her thighs, inhaling. “You smell so good, baby.” He tore off her panties. His tongue traced her seam and he put his hands on her inner thighs encouraging her to spread her legs and he dived between them. A moan escaped her lips when he lapped at her. He gripped her waist with a hand to steady her as he put one of her legs on his shoulder. He took his time enjoying her and only let go when her hands yanked hard at his hair.

Her eyes were light and clear with lust. “Up!” she ordered, tugging on his hair again.

He smiled with utter satisfaction and stood up to kiss her, shedding his shirt to the floor as she unzipped his trousers and pushed them and his briefs down, kneeling in front of him clad in a bra, garter and stockings, and high heels. The exotic beige lace of the Philip Tracey shoes he had given her tantalized his imagination as they caressed her ankles and calves.

Ethan gaped at the sight. Hot! He hardened even more. She moistened her lips in anticipation. He groaned, whatever control he had left slipped away with that vision. She looked at him through long lashes and with a wicked grin, opened her mouth and… Just licked him with the tip of her tongue. Please! And again. He thrust forward and she backed away.

“Sophia, don’t tease!” he growled and pulled her hair almost painfully.

She swirled her tongue around him. “Just paying in kind,” she taunted. “Burn for me.” She breathed and took him fully in her mouth. He grunted and moved his fingers into her hair, grabbing it. She took hold of the base of his erection and worked him all over, tonguing, stroking, and sucking.

He gripped her arms, pulled her from the floor, and almost flung her on to the bed. She took her lacy bra off. He quickly kicked his trousers and briefs from his ankles and lying beside her his mouth immediately searched for a breast. She arched on the bed.

She spread her thighs and he covered her, entering her slowly, staring at her while he did, his forearms caging her shoulders and arms, his hands buried in her hair.

Her long fingers encased his ribcage, “More. Faster.” She locked her legs around him.

“As you wish, baby,” he breathed in her ear, hugging her body tightly to his and slamming his hips on hers until she completely lost control. Her body jerked under his and he felt her low, strangled cry against his neck. He slowed down as she clamped around him and then speeded again to come, becoming still inside her, and collapsing on his side, keeping her bound to his body.

He settled on his back and nestled her better onto his torso, her head on his shoulder, using it as a pillow. “Sophia, you drain me,” he murmured into her hair and dragged the sheets over them.

“Mmm,” she purred on his shoulder.

“Sophia?”

“Yes?”

“Have you sought medical help for your nightmares?” His face showed his concerned.

“Yes, yes, I have. One day they’ll go away.” Her fingers caressed his bearded jaw. “Does it bother you very much? I can go home.”

His arms tightened around her, “No. I’d rather have you right here.” He kissed her hair, “Sleep well, baby. I’ll be here if you need me.”

She lifted her head and smiled lazily at him. “I’ve never slept in high heels before, Ethan.” She took off her shoes. Crawling back to him, she lay her head on his shoulder, her fingers toying with the hairs on his chest.

“Aren’t you tired?” Ethan asked and Sophia shook her head.

Silence ensued for some minutes as they tenderly caressed each other.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

“They aren’t worth your penny.” She smiled wanly at him. “I just had a bad meeting today and I’m concerned about whether I conducted the matter as I should.”

“What happened?” As always, he expressed interest in her.

“The long and the short of it, I had this bad feeling about the director negotiating a contract with us and I demanded a meeting with the CEO of the bank. Then the guy pushed me too far and I snapped.”

“Which one? How?” Ethan’s demeanor blackened.

Sophia, absorbed in her thoughts, didn’t notice the change in Ethan’s attitude. “The director. He pressed us to accept the contract as it was, full of absurd clauses. He even insinuated that Leibowitz Oil depended on this contract to survive. Ridiculous.” She bit her lip. “And he kept leering and drooling over me. It was disgusting.”

Ethan flipped her suddenly on the bed and pressed his body over hers, his hand shot out and grappled her right wrist with strength, wringing it. “You will not go to these meetings again, Sophia.”

“Ethan!” She staggered. His behavior surprised her. “You’re hurting me,” she murmured.

He squeezed her hand violently and pressed her body down on the mattress harder, grabbing her hair in his hand and yanking her head back. “I don’t want you to go alone to these meetings,” he insisted, his azure eyes darkened.

“Let go of my wrist. You’re going to break it,” she whispered urgently, a weird fear spreading through her as pain took control, “please.”

He let go her arm and her hair, but didn’t budge from her body. His fingers were imprinted on her wrist. She lightly rubbed her fingers over it and winced. It’s going to leave a mark.

He inhaled heavily. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He bent his head to kiss her lips, but she turned away, avoiding his kiss. “I don’t like the idea of you exposed.” He buried his head on her neck, kissing it. “Alone, unprotected.”

“I wasn’t alone. Edward was with me,” she answered.

“Edward?” His voice had a tinge of rage again.

“Edward Davidoff, the CEO of Leibowitz.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Close, aren’t you?”

“No-Yes,” she stammered. “I mean, we’re friends, co-workers.”

“You shouldn’t work this hard and burden your pretty head with these mundane things.” He curled his fingers under her chin, “You don’t need to. I can provide for both of us.”

Dear God. The man is crazy. Provide for both of us? Is he proposing marriage? “I like what I do, Ethan. As everything in life, it has its ups and downs,” she reasoned. She rose and went to the bathroom. She studied her wrist and then her face in the mirror. She noticed a movement in her peripheral vision. He stood at the door. She grimaced. Damn! “I’d better leave.” She lowered her eyelids, hooding her darkened eyes.

“I’m sorry, baby. I really am. I like you very much.” He stepped into the bathroom, warily, “I don’t like you meeting with men. You’re an astonishing woman.”

She wrinkled her nose in denial. “There is no need for jealousy. I don’t care about anyone else.”

“I’m not concerned with you, but with them,” he frowned and his azure eyes darkened. “I see how men look at you. You’re coveted, but you’re mine, Sophia. Mine.”

“I see,” she murmured, although she didn’t. This is not affection, Ethan. This has another name. “But, I’m going home, Ethan. Call me a taxi, please.”

“I can take-”

She shook her head. When she raised her eyes, they held a resolute expression. “A taxi, Ethan,” she said firmly, “please.”

Chapter 7

Leibowitz Oil Building.

Friday, January 22nd, 2010.

9.30 a.m.

“Come in,” Sophia called, unlocking her office door, and looking up from her iMac screen.

Edward paused at the door and listened to the music playing in Sophia’s office.

“A waltz by Strauss. Perfect.” Edward literally waltzed into the room with a stack of papers in his hand, an enormous bouquet of dark red peonies and a huge grin on his face. “Congratulations! You’re a genius; one hell of an executive. Gabriel would be proud.”

“What is this?” She smiled at him. “The contract for the students from the University of Strathclyde?”

“No. The loan!” He threw himself in the armchair in front of her desk and put the bouquet on the other. “Exactly as you wanted it. Lower fees, a guaranty of a hundred percent and almost no penalty clauses.” He grinned wickedly at her. “And the best part… Please change the waltz to Beethoven’s fifth symphony, Allegro con brio.”

“Come on, Edward, cut the suspense.”

“Put it on. Just the beginning.” His grin was infectious and she did as he asked. Exactly seven seconds after the music started, he exclaimed. “Wales was fired.”

“Wow! There is a God!” A vindictive smile spread over Sophia’s face. “The bastard was disgusting.”

“It’ll teach him manners.” He singled out an ivory envelope with dark green motifs from the stack of papers. “Now, this!” He opened it and took from it a folded page. He unfolded the crispy vellum stationary, smoothing it gently with his fingers. Edward’s eyes quickly scanned the letter and whistled. “Change the music. Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concert.”

She did as requested. The ominous sounds filled the room and Sophia shuddered.

“I just love this,” he breathed and closed his eyes for a second. “Spectacular, isn’t it? So… intense. As is the man who has caught your attention.”

“I beg your pardon?” she frowned at him.

“Sophia, Sophia.” He threw her a secretive smile and turned his gaze back to the letter in his hand, raising a dark blond eyebrow. “He’s a gentleman; exceptionally fine woven paper and impressive penmanship.” Edward sounded fascinated with her correspondence.

“Who?” Sophia impatiently tapped her fingers one to another. “Edward…”

He grinned at her. “It says here…”

London, January 21st, 2010.

Dear Mr. Davidoff,

It is with the greatest satisfaction that I send you the new contract for your and Mrs. Santo’s approval. I hope it meets your requirements.

I have to congratulate you on your choice for the head of the legal department of Leibowitz Oil. Mrs. Santo is intelligent, smart and, if I may say, a shrewd businesswoman. Quite a sight to behold.

Mr. Wales is no longer with us. Henceforth, I’m at your disposal for any future enquiries, unless you have any other director or vice-president you would wish to appoint as your contact with us. It was a pleasure to work with you, as always.

I look forward to hearing from you and I remain at your disposal.

Yours faithfully,

Alistair Connor MacCraig

CEO, The City of London Bank.

“Shrewd businesswoman?” Sophia grinned. “I like it.”

“I do, too. Especially because he thinks I’m responsible for the choice,” he chuckled. “‘Quite a sight to behold.’ This is a lot more interesting than a ‘shrewd businesswoman’.” He snatched the card from the flowers, flaunting it at her.

“Who sent those and to whom?” she asked curious.

“They aren’t for you! They are for Mrs. Santo. Head of the Legal Department.” He looked at the envelope. “Perhaps you know her?” His smile vanished. “You have to stop doing this, Sophia. It’s affecting LO.”

“I will, I will. I just need some courage and a little more time.”

His smile returned. “Can I open it?”

With a flourished wave of her long hand, she authorized it.

“Hmm…” He rubbed two fingers over his square jaw. “A personal card. There is a coat of arms engraved above his name.”

“Who is he?”

Edward looked at her with a teasing reproving look. “As if you didn’t know.”

“I don’t.” She frowned. “Who sent me flowers?”

Edward shook his head slowly at her and lowered his head to read the card. A blonde lock fell over his forehead and he pushed it back impatiently as he read the card silently. He let out a long whistle this time. “Now. This is a sight to behold!” and read out loud.

London, January 21st, 2010.

Dear Mrs. Santo,

It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

I was greatly dismayed by Mr. Wales’s undignified behavior towards you, Leibowitz Oil, and the Leibowitz family.

To undo the unfavorable impression, I request the pleasure of your company for lunch at Gordon Ramsay at Claridge’s, on January 22nd, at 1 o’clock.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours truly,

Alistair Connor

“I would say: up close and personal. Just Alistair Connor. Beautiful name. Strong.” Edward shook his head in amazement. “Heavens, Sophia! Another one! You have all these gorgeous men falling at your feet. Why not share your secret?” He pouted. “What’s the magical, invisible powder you throw to spellbind every man and woman around you?”

Her laugh rang through the room. “Take your pick. I cannot go out with more than one.” She extended her hand. “Let me study the contract.”

“Stop beating around the bush and call him to confirm the lunch,” Edward pushed.

Sophia straightened up in her chair, suddenly scared. “I’m not going, Edward. I’ll write him a thank you note for the flowers, but I’m not going. You can go.”

“He didn’t ask me out, Sophia. He asked you. And it’s solely a business lunch.” He cocked his head to look at her and spoke quietly. “Why not?”

A warning sensation tingled through Sophia. “I don’t know. Instincts, maybe?”

“You cannot skip this lunch, Sophia. Not this time,” he insisted. “It’s too important for LO. Do you want me to go with you?”

Sophia looked at her hands and sighed. “Do you really think it’s necessary?” She looked at her friend. Edward never asked for more than what she could do.

He thinned his lips and nodded. “Yes. You know I wouldn’t ask if I thought I could go in your place.”

“All right.” Sophia pressed the intercom. “Sarah, could you please call The City of London Bank and put Mr. MacCraig’s secretary on the line? Thank you.” She looked at Edward. “Have you read the contract?”

“Yes, Jason, from the legal team, and I did. A director delivered it here at eight thirty this morning.” He grinned. “It’s perfect.”

The intercom buzzed. “Mrs. L, it’s Mr. MacCraig’s secretary. His name is Angus MacKeenan.”

“Thank you, Sarah. Put him through.” The line loudly beeped. “Mr. MacKeenan?”

“Mrs. Santo, how are you? It’s Alistair Connor.” Alistair’s deep voice came through the speaker and Sophia’s heart fired up to a breakneck pace in her chest. Eyes wide, she looked at Edward, who merely raised a blond eyebrow. “I gather you have received my card.”

“Yes, Mr. MacCraig, I have. Ah…” A foreboding feeling flashed through her, leaving her at a loss for words and she licked her lips.

“So, I can confirm the reservation at Gordon Ramsay’s?” His low, deep voice soothed her.

Sophia glanced at Edward who nodded. “Yes, Mr. MacCraig, you can. I will be there at one o’clock.”

“Great. I’ll send my driver to pick you up.”

“There’s no need.” She bit her lip for a second. “A driver from Leibowitz Oil will drop me off.”

Edward shook his head, amused.

“Very well. I’m looking forward to our lunch. See you then.”

“See you, Mr. MacCraig,” Sophia murmured.

“A driver from Leibowitz Oil? Is that Steven’s new job title?” Edward inquired. “Why are you so nervous, Sophia? The guy isn’t going to bite you. He’s asking you out to a business lunch.”

“Who said I was nervous?”

“You repeated ‘Mr. MacCraig’ three times. And bit your bottom lip.” Concerned, he eyed her. “If you feel this bad about it, don’t go.”

“It’s okay, Edward. I’ll go.” Sophia waved her right hand again in the air and the long sleeve of her silk dress fell to her elbow.

Edward looked at her wrist and frowned. “What is this, Sophia?” Edward rose from the chair and went to her side. He held her hand and looked at her wrist. His expression clouded when he noticed the mark of fingers on her delicate arm, which she had tried to conceal with makeup but failed. “Sophia?”

Stupid, stupid! “It’s nothing.” She dismissed it. “I must have banged my hand somewhere.”

“Somewhere with fingers?” His blue eyes flashed, angrily. “I don’t like this, Sophia. Why did he hurt you? Don’t you dare lie to me!”

Sophia bit her lip and looked at Edward. “Really, it was nothing. I bruise easily, you know.”

“I’ll let this pass. But, beware! If I see something like this again, Ashford and I will have a private talk.” Edward thinned his lips and flexed his large shoulders; his face murderous. “I may not be as broad as him but surely I’m bigger than you. If something like this happens again, I want to know, Sophia.”

Gordon Ramsay at Claridge’s.

12.55 p.m.

Sophia entered the restaurant trailing behind the maître d’. Alistair was already seated. She looked at her watch. Five minutes to one.

He mesmerized her as he rose and straightened to his full height. His dark blue double-breasted pinstripe suit molded to his body. He flashed a white, even smile and beckoned her to him. As usual, a lock of his windswept hair fell on his forehead while another flipped over his left eye. The same deep need to tangle her hands in his hair and yank his head down for a kiss made her head spin. She breathed deep and tried not to wobble as she walked. Never clumsy, Sophia didn’t intend to start being so now.

His eyes… His emerald-green eyes framed by those long, dark, and full lashes are beautiful. It should be forbidden for men to have such beautiful, hypnotizing eyes. Sophia shivered as a disturbing feeling set in the pit of her stomach. This isn’t a business lunch. Oh, God. What am I doing? Ethan’s going to be furious. Sophia looked around, suddenly wary. And who said he needs to know?

Alistair observed Sophia as she meandered her way through the restaurant. There’s something different about her.

Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She’s… nervous! Out of her depth. Why? She was oblivious to the male gazes turned in her direction. It’s as if she doesn’t know her own beauty. He took note of her dress. Daring, to say the least. Red blooming roses were printed on her heavy black silk mid-thigh dress. Not too short, but not the conservative knee length either.

Christ! Sheer black tights covered her long legs and her feet were encased in black leather high heels, strapped at her ankles. Sexy. Hot. Too bloody hot! Fuck! I’ll have to use a penis harness when I’m around her or everyone will notice I’m sporting a full hard-on. The woman is married. Alistair Connor MacCraig! Control yourself.

A large red-silk rose clasped her hair behind her head on the right, keeping her hair from her face. His breath hitched when, with a flick of her hand, she tossed her hair over her shoulder; her red nails screamed against her raven hair.

In an elegant movement, Sophia stretched her hand to shake his.

He held it between his for a moment beyond the usual, and kissed it, his green eyes glued to hers.

Cold. “Sophia, I was very pleased you accepted my invitation.” The waiter pulled the table so she could sit on the sofa next to him. “I can call you Sophia, can’t I?” Alistair’s gaze never left hers, a knowing smile on his lips. He had a slight, sexy Scottish accent she hadn’t noticed before.

“Yes,” she responded, her voice just a throaty murmur.

She adjusted her dress and he shifted on the seat. Immediately, his scent enveloped Sophia. She felt dizzy for a second and looked at his face.

“Creed.” The word was out of her mouth before she knew it. She flushed. I need a glass of water, quick. I’m feeling hot. Too hot. A thrill went through her spine. She shivered. She never, ever felt such fierce awareness of a stranger before in her life. And at a loss for words. What is happening to me? Mr. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it is turning me head-over-heels.

He startled. “I beg your pardon?”

“It is Creed, isn’t it? Sublime Vanille,” she inhaled. “I love that perfume. I’m wearing it.”

“Aye, it’s Creed. I don’t normally wear Sublime Vanille, it’s sweet, more feminine. I prefer Spice and Wood.” He perused her face and boldly bent his head in her direction. “You don’t smell of it.” He closed his eyes and inhaled her fragrance deeply. “You. You smell like white roses in bloom and orange sorbet with drops of vanilla sauce. A dessert. Utterly fresh and sweet.” His dark, deep voice breathed the words near her ear and she lifted her face to him. Her lips parted in ragged breaths, her eyes wide. Heat radiated from him as a warm, fragrant breeze and a hot feeling permeated her body, branding her.

He opened his eyes, his face just inches from hers. He cleared his throat and adjusted the perfect Windsor knot in his dark-green silk tie.

“Sophia, I don’t do married women.” His voice sounded dry, his icy green eyes held an amused wicked gleam.

She wasn’t even breathing. “I’m not married.” A throaty rasp. God, why did I just say that?

His brows rose. “Why do you insist on being called missis, then?”

“I was married.” Damn. Her response to him was terrifying.

“Have you been divorced long?”

She shook her head, too enthralled by his sexual power to do more than that.

“No, you’re not divorced or no, you haven’t been divorced long?”

“No,” a mere whisper, “I’m not divorced.” Sophia felt herself falling down a never-ending abyss.

“Aye?” His eyes flashed flames and his brows rose higher. “So?”

“I’m a widow.”

His onyx-black brows furrowed tightly and a sad look took over his features. “You’re too young to be a widow.”

She pulled herself out of the reverie and snorted, “I keep hearing this as if fate ought to have asked my age before…” She waved her hand in the air. Her sleeve fell and he held her hand gently with his fingers, his eyes darkening.

He scowled at her marked wrist and she tried to disengage her hand from his. His tender grip tightened. “Someone hurt you.” A fierce statement with a touch of anger.

“It’s nothing. I bruise easily,” Sophia said, thoroughly embarrassed. First Edward, now Alistair. She frowned at her wrist still in his hand and touched the black-and-blue marks gingerly with her left fingers. He grabbed the other one, too.

His thumbs caressed the back of them and his gaze pierced her, searching for a clue. These are not bondage marks. Fingers. Perhaps… Is she a submissive without hard limits?

He deposited a kiss on each hand, his green eyes bearing down on hers, “One should never mar a woman like you.” A beauty.

“A woman like me?” Her bitter low laugh astounded him. “Mr. MacC-”

“Alistair Connor. Call me Alistair or Alistair Connor, whichever you feel like.”

“I’m not special, Alistair.” She let his name roll off her tongue, tasting it. “No one is special. We’re all equals.” She shook her head and her hair bounced around her. “I’ve had much worse and I don’t break easily.”

Alistair felt his body harden. I would like to break you and have you under my control. He squeezed her hands tenderly before signaling to the waiter. “Red wine?” He looked down the wine list.

She nodded, “Sure.” These British men are all trying to get me drunk during lunch.

“Have you seen the contract?” he asked in a businesslike manner, masking the potent desire taking control of his mind and body. This woman is bad news.

She nodded and sipped her water, licking her lips.

His cock twisted. Control yourself, Alistair Connor!

“I’ve approved it. I thank you, Mr. Mac- Alistair. The clauses were modified exactly as I had envisioned them.”

The sommelier brought a Quinta do Vale do Meão, a Portuguese wine, he tasted it and served it to Alistair. “Excellent, thank you.”

She looked at his big hand handling the delicate stem of the crystal glass. Her lips twisted. Elegant, large with long fingers; surgeon’s hands, firm and precise.

“What’s so amusing?” he asked as the sommelier left them.

Sophia blinked. He had caught her daydreaming about his hands… She raised her eyes to his face. He observed her closely. “If I didn’t know you worked in a bank, I’d say you were a doctor.”

“Why?”

She didn’t resist the temptation and the tips of her right fingers touched the back of his left hand. No ring. “Your hand. You have deft and elegant fingers. I can easily see you handling a scalpel.”

He suppressed his surprise. Christ! Is she into this kind of pain? Smiling wickedly, looking deep into her eyes, he said in a deep murmur. “You don’t know how deft they can be.”

A sensation stirred inside and her breath hitched. Dear God!

He raised his glass in a toast. “To a new… partnership.” The last word, gliding over his tongue, had an ambiguity not lost on Sophia.

Their attraction was as strong as an iron and magnet. They couldn’t resist each other’s magnetism. To Sophia and Alistair, no one else existed in the room; it was just the two of them.

She touched her glass to his and looked up “To new partners,” she mumbled, blushed, and quickly drank a gulp of wine. “Have you been the bank’s CEO for long?”

“Since 2008, when I bought thirty-five percent and became the majority shareholder. Now I own sixty percent of it, and my brother and another two partners own the rest,” he boasted. Come on, Beauty, what’s missing for you to fall at my feet? A one-night stand wouldn’t be bad. I promise.

“Really?” she dismissed his accomplishment with raised brows and tilted her head to the side. “I would have imagined-”

“What?”

“That you were more than a CEO,” she said cryptically.

“What do you mean?”

Sophia waved her hand. “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but your looks…”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I mean comparing you to Edward, you’re quite the rebel.” She blushed at her bold commentary.

“Edward? You mean Davidoff?”

She nodded.

More than co-workers, are you, Sophia? “‘Don’t judge the book by its cover.’”

She smiled. “That’s just what everyone won’t do with me. Take you, for example. You judged me on your first impression.”

“Mea culpa,” he grinned, surprised she had realized it. Perceptive…

“I liked your praise of me in the letter you sent Ed-, err, Mr. Davidoff.”

“Quite a sight to behold?”

“Ah, no.” Her hands were sweating and she wrung her napkin. “A shrewd businesswoman.”

He shifted on the seat to face her better and draped his arm over the back of the sofa. “You’re much more than that. You’re an intriguing, ravishing, intelligent woman, Sophia.” He brushed her hair aside. Silk. And his fingers touched her nape. Velvet. “Quite a sight to behold,” he murmured.

She shivered at the light contact.

Responsive. She’ll set my bed on fire. I just have to touch the right buttons.

Sophia breathed deeply. Oh, God. His scent is too good. “Can we order? Please?” she asked hoarsely.

He took pity on her and signaled for the waiter to bring the menus. He took a perfunctory look and closed it.

Sophia smiled at him. “What do you suggest? It’s quite a torture to choose from a menu like this.”

Torture? Torture is what I’m suffering under the pressure to maintain a tight leash on my desire. He looked down discretely at his pants and cursed inwardly. The into-pain submissive wants a suggestion? My apartment; on the wall, on the floor, on the bed, in the tub; tied, blindfolded, gagged, and thoroughly fucked. Hard. Or maybe she’s up for a blow job in the restaurant toilet… Aye, that would be quite satisfactory to start with.

“Alistair?” She placed her hand on his forearm, his face captivating her.

Christ! What happened to her eyes? “Are you wearing lenses?” he frowned.

“Contact lenses, you mean?” She blinked. “No. I don’t need them.”

“Drugs?” He cupped her chin and moved her face upward to get a better look at her eyes. They widened at his blunt question. “Do you do drugs?” Oh, please, not another one.

“I beg your pardon?” she snapped. “Do you, Mr. MacCraig?”

“Not MacCraig,” he breathed, amazed. “Alistair. Alistair Connor.” Fire! Her eyes are flames and I’m burning in them. “How do you change the color of your eyes like that?”

“I don’t,” she frowned at him. “They’re light brown. A very common color. Nothing special.” Nothing like this intense emerald inferno of yours.

He repeated her words, softly, “Nothing special…” He let go of her face with a soft stroke of his long fingers.

She looked baffled. “Have you chosen? Do you have any suggestions?”

“Well, it depends.” He eyed her figure, measuring her lean body. “Are you going to eat only salad?”

“Dear God, no. Why would I eat only salad?” She peered at him as if he were insane. “I love food. Especially desserts.” She licked her lips, unaware. “I was wondering is the spicy duck with Swiss chard, beetroot, and grilled onions a good choice? What do you think?”

“A wonderful choice,” he nodded, completely befuddled by the woman at his side. “I’ll have the salt cod brandade.”

Sophia was so taken with Alistair that she was certain she would have difficulty recalling the duck’s flavors to tell Edward later at work. Get a grip, Sophia. This is business. Damn. Who am I fooling? This has nothing to do with business.

Alistair barely noticed the coming and going waiters. The two of them were attracting awe-filled, lustful stares. Their sexual tension radiated and disrupted even the most serious men at their business lunches.

Alistair felt incapable of playing down his strained condition. She seemed more controlled, her movements light, whereas his were clipped. He dispensed with the bitter chocolate tartine he so liked. I want another dessert.

“Mmm,” Sophia closed her eyes as the lemon flavor of her dessert exploded on her tongue. “This is absolutely delicious.” She slowly pulled the spoon out of her mouth.

Christ! This ought to be forbidden. She’s making love to her dessert. He wanted her on her knees and him filling her mouth. Now!

To the utter desperation of the man beside her, Sophia licked her lips and gazed at him, with her yellow diamond eyes. “This is scrumptious. Do you want a taste?” Sophia found him staring at her with an unreadable expression. Strong desire shot through her body and her lips parted. Yes, please, taste it on my mouth. Goddammit! What the hell am I doing?

Alistair lost himself in the kiss-me-now look on her face. What did she ask?

“You want some?” she asked again.

He shook his head, but his eyes said yes. Aye, I want you.

“Coffee or tea?” he rasped when she finished her lemon tart. This lunch is going to win the prize of ‘The Most Sensual Lunch of All Times’.

“Coffee, please.” She said, oblivious of her companion’s problem disguising his huge erection.

Coffee arrived with chocolate truffles. When she bit into one and closed her eyes, moaning, Alistair almost came then and there. She cleaned her fingers on the napkin but couldn’t resist sucking her index finger.

Now! I need to fuck her now! He made a strangled sound and she stared sheepish at him.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Please, don’t. By all means, suck the others if you want.” And suck me, too. He didn’t recognize his own voice; deep, dark, husky. How in hell am I going to walk out of the restaurant? He inhaled deep breaths. Orange sorbet topped with vanilla sauce and white rose petals. She’s driving you insane, Alistair Connor! Just fuck this woman and leave quickly. She’s trouble.

Alistair signaled for the waiter and handed his credit card.

Sophia immediately grabbed her purse, “Don’t, please.”

His hand flew to prevent her from opening her purse and closed around her bruised wrist. She flinched.

Jesus Christ! “I’m sorry,” he murmured and tenderly kissed the inside of her black-and-blue wrist.

A thrill coursed through Sophia’s spine.

“Is the driver waiting for you?”

“Not yet.” She shook her head. “I have to call him.”

“I’ll drive you back.” He stated as he signed the credit card slip with a swift movement of his left hand.

Another ride? What is my problem? Do I have a flashing sign of my forehead ‘I’m lost. Rescue me?’

Sophia felt utterly dominated by the sheer maleness beside her. “That would be lovely,” she heard herself replying. Why she bothered she didn’t understand, because he hadn’t asked.

Sophia relaxed on the seat of the Imperial Blue Metallic BMW 760Li, listening attentively to Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto in C minor playing on the stereo. But when Alistair entered the car, she tensed up.

It had one-way tinted glass windows and, as he sat, he closed the specially made privacy divider. She immediately regretted having accepted the ride to her office. Too tall, too broad, too much. He needs a stretch limo, not a car.

Alistair’s sexual magnetism and potent energy in the enclosed car heightened Sophia’s tension.

“Do you know the address?” She bit her lip and crossed her long legs, tightening the desire inside her.

He chuckled, a deep sound that made Sophia’s stomach constrict with a flaming need to jump him. He shifted and drew a knee onto the seat, facing her. She eyed his legs and warred with the desire to fling herself between them and to run her hands over them. He leaned toward her and his green gaze swirled. “Of course,” he said, huskily, “how could I not know?” An arm rested lightly on the back of the seat.

What is that supposed to mean? Sophia put her bag on her lap and her hand clutched the door handle. “I love this concerto. Rachmaninoff is so-”

“Profound, dark?” He moved closer, searching her eyes, studying her features.

Sophia breathed in and his smell hit her with full force. Sublime Vanille and a touch of oak somewhere. Sublimely male. He had been silently manipulating her, exuding strength and a powerful command on her will during the entire lunch. Her head lifted without her consent; she was too turned on to care anymore. She licked her lips, her breathing already altered.

Alistair saw when she lost control and took charge. Something withered inside his chest but he shoved the feeling deeper down. Enjoy it, Alistair. This one has resisted a bit more but in the end she’s just like all the others. A slut. He was too busy dealing with his bubbling lust to notice his shy and lonely sun ray hiding behind his darkness.

An arm under her knees and another behind her back did the job of transferring her onto his lap as his tongue licked the seam of her lips and she opened to him. Honey. She tastes of honey and coffee and chocolate. He didn’t wait and dipped in for more. Her lips were everything he had imagined, full and soft.

He kissed her lustfully.

Mindlessly.

Senselessly.

His mouth closed over hers and his passion blindsided her. His kiss was bold and passionate. His lips coached her desire and his tongue tasted her in leisurely licks, no hurry, taking all her will from her and demanding more, requesting all. One of her hands dived into his luscious hair, the other gripped his hard biceps, and her breath quickened.

He felt her nails raking his nape and his erection hardened even more. He shifted to better press her thigh to it. The hand behind her knees moved under her dress, caressing her leg encased in silky tights and finding her garter.

Fuck! His fingers looked for and found velvet skin. His hand cupped her upper-thigh massaging the lean but toned and muscled thigh while his mouth ravaged the column of her neck, kissing and nipping. He gripped her hair and gently yanked her head back, baring her throat to have better access. He inhaled her intoxicating scent. Sweet petals of white roses in bloom. I could lick her forever. He bit her earlobe softly and she moaned.

“Sophia,” his lust filled whisper shook Sophia out of her dream-state and she pushed hard at his chest.

Have I gone utterly insane? I’m going out with a man and making out with another? In a car in the middle of The City? “Stop. Now,” she struggled to command, but she could barely stutter a whisper.

His thumb brushed her lacy panties and her hand flew to his wrist before he did any more damage to her sanity.

She scrambled back on the seat, rearranging her dress. “I’m sorry.” She combed her hair with her fingers and lowered her eyelids. “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

Alistair glared at her and down at his pants where one of his biggest erections strained his fly. But she, fuck, she looks absolutely composed.

He looked at her unwrinkled dress and her hair barely out of place. Only her mouth showed any indication of his passionate kisses. That drove him mad. She completely unsettled him. How is she in such control? “Why?” he almost barked.

She startled and stared at him, biting her lip.

Christ! Her eyes had changed color again.

“It’s none of your business, Mr. MacCraig.”

“Davidoff?” he growled.

“I’ve already apologized for my behavior. It was unacceptable,” she snapped. “Ask your driver to stop the car. I’m getting out.” She was angry with herself. She needed fresh air.

“The hell you are.” He raked his fingers through his silky hair, taking note that her eyes were changing color again. “You came to have lunch with me. I’ll see that you’re safely dropped back at your office.” He crossed his arms over the wide expanse of his chest, ending the argument.

Well, so you think. Sophia waited until the car slowed down after entering Fleet Street and opened the door, jumping out of the car, almost in front of The Royal Courts of Justice. People stopped to look at her. Great, Sophia! Way to do it. She grabbed her iPhone and dialed Edward, while dodging her way through the crowd with hurried steps.

“Christ!” Alistair said, her actions paralyzing him for a few seconds. The woman’s utterly insane. But hot! So hot!

Garrick must have noticed that the door had been opened because the car stopped. Alistair threw himself out of the car after her, banging the door loudly behind him. She was ahead of him but his strides were longer.

“Stop, Sophia!” He ordered but she didn’t even look back. Hmm. Not so submissive. She hadn’t even bothered to put on her overcoat and it remained draped over her arm. Fuck, it’s bloody freezing. She’s going to catch a cold, damn woman. When she slowed her pace because of the flow of barristers, solicitors, and the throng of people going in and out of the court, he gripped her shoulders and whipped her roughly around, caging her in his arms. Gently, Alistair Connor, or she’ll bruise. “Where do you suppose you’re going, Sophia?”

“Back to my office, which I should have never left,” she retorted in a low, enraged voice. “It seems to me, Mr. MacCraig, that you just repeated the same behavior you condemned in Mr. Wales.”

“That’s not true. You encouraged me, allowed it to happen.”

“Oh, that is rich,” she leered at him. “It’s always that way. Women are to blame.” Her eyes flicked toward the entrance of the Royal Courts and she blanched so unexpectedly that Alistair was alarmed. Her hand shot to her throat, her coat fell to the ground and she swayed on her feet.

Somewhere to flee, somewhere to hide. She looked around, desperate.

“Sophia?” He narrowed his arms around her, enveloping her, and bringing her to his chest, giving support. “What’s wrong?”

“Get me out of here, please.” Her voice was barely a wisp. “Now.”

The BMW was right beside them, Garrick slowly accompanying their crazy run. Alistair opened the door for her and helped her in. She trembled so much she could barely walk.

“Stay here,” he ordered, picked up her coat from the ground and rounded the car to enter on the other side. She was already on the phone. He sat facing her.

“-please, Sarah. It’s urgent.” She bit her lip, hard. “Edward. Oh, Edward,” she whimpered. Tears welled in her eyes. “He’s here. Albe-. I’m sure. I’ve just seen. Leaving the Royal Courts.” She spoke in nervous, incomplete sentences. “He will. What are you going to say? What am I going to do?” She closed her eyes. “With Alistair MacCraig. In his car.” She turned to Alistair and held her iPhone to him. “It’s Edward. Err, Davidoff.”

He eyed her with a calm expression he wasn’t feeling and took the phone.

“Tell me, Davidoff,” he sighed while he listened to Edward’s cryptic explanation. Why I am always involved with complicated women? However, he was more concerned with the pale woman in the car with him.

Sophia was looking down at her wringing hands.

“What’s wrong? I cannot help if I don’t-.” What has just happened? Who is ‘he’? Who has frightened her so much? “Don’t worry. My afternoon is free. I’ll stay with her until you arrive.” He hung up the phone and gave it back to her.

She made another phone call and she spoke quickly in a language he didn’t quite identify, “It’s me, Maria. Don’t open the door to anyone. And don’t go out with Gabriela. Keep her in her room. I’m heading home.”

Alistair froze as he realized that an urgent need to help her had wedged beneath his skin. To breathe safety into her trembling body. To whisk her into his arms and caress her until she stopped feeling threatened. He didn’t do this kind of thing anymore. Not since Heather. Love isn’t worth the risk of betrayal, of pain, of death.

Sophia finished the call and closed her eyes, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist as if they could protect her.

Alistair touched the intercom when she ended the call. “Garrick, please, head to…” He waited for her to supply her home address.

“74, Eaton Square,” she dutifully informed him in a small voice.

He repeated the information and sat back, watching Rachmaninoff ‘s concerto toy with her feelings.

“The Adagio sostenuto…” she whispered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The piano and the flute,” she murmured, her hair blocking the view of her face. He brushed it aside. “It’s the most touching part. I saw it in Lucerne, with Hélène Grimaud and Claudio Abbado, in August 2008. After…” She turned slowly to look at him. “It’s in the second movement. Listen.” Tears coursed down her face and she brushed them away with the back of her hands.

He inhaled deep, struggling to control his raging emotions. Her scent caught his senses and the need to protect her overrode his self-preservation and restraint.

Fuck the risk. He opened his arms, ordering, “Come here.”

She pressed herself onto the door.

His arms enveloped her, pulling her into his body. “I’m not a monster, Sophia,” he breathed on her hair and handed her his soft, white handkerchief, embroidered with his initials in dark green. “Cry, if you will.”

The tender understanding and refuge that huge, rugged, and intense man gave her crumbled any of Sophia’s remaining control. It had been so long since she had felt secure like this. He felt like an unerring solid protector. How does he make me feel like this?

The yearning to protect Sophia made Alistair narrow his embrace around her. This delicate, fragile side of her awoke in him something so male, so primitive that he had to fight the urge to tell Garrick to drive straight to his home in the Highlands. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“We’ve arrived,” Alistair said quietly.

Sophia lifted her forehead from the hollow of his neck and looked at the building. “Could your driver park in the garage, please? It’s just around the corner.”

“Sure.” He gave Garrick the instructions. “I’m going up with you.”

Not a request. More like an order. Sophia raked her hands through her hair and rearranged her dress. “Thank you.”

Thank you? Nobody has thanked me for such a simple thing for so long. But then, when have I done something like this for a woman since Heather? He didn’t know what to make of Sophia. He really didn’t. Alistair opened the door and held his hand to help her out.

She edged toward the lift. When the doors opened she looked over her shoulder, scanning the garage before entering it. She quickly punched in a long code on the panel. The lights flashed as they climbed up to the penthouse. When the lift jerked to a stop, Sophia almost fell, her knees weak with relief. Alistair snaked an arm around her waist supporting her as the doors opened into a private hall.

She opened the door to the apartment and turned to Alistair. “Thank you very much.”

He stood in her hall, aghast. She’s dismissing me. Nobody dismisses me. “I’m staying until Davidoff arrives.”

“Please,” she tried to convince him by putting her hand on his arm, “there is no need. You were kind enough to bring me here.”

He shook his head. “Until Davidoff arrives.”

“Very well,” she sighed. “Could I offer you something to drink?”

“No, thank you.” He looked around, taking in the richness of the paintings hanging on the wall. “You have a very nice apartment. You live here alone?”

“No,” she shook her head. No point in lying about it. “With my daughter. Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable.”

Once again, as she did on the office, Sophia masked her emotions. But he knew better. Her eyes betrayed her. They showed the fright she had been through. They were dark, not clear anymore.

He jammed his hands in his pockets and strolled through the living room. He stopped in front of her bookcase, analyzing her books, which were carefully stored in a methodic way. He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, standing next to him.

“Your display order. Work on one side; leisure on the other; every book in alphabetic order by the author’s last name. It looks like a library.”

“You’re the first one to decipher my organizational code without an explanation.” She looked at him, flabbergasted.

He raised a black eyebrow at her, “The first one?” He returned his attention to her books.

“Well, I don’t have many guests. You like to read?” As he nodded, she continued, “I devour books. I can’t live without them. I read anything that falls in my hands. Classic literature, novels, anything-”

“In any language, it seems,” he murmured perusing the books. He took Inferno by Dante Alighieri, in Italian, off the shelf. He skimmed through it and stopped at a page, both of his brows shooting up; he turned his stare at her, his eyes questioning.

“You know, Dante was wrong. Hell is here. We live in a place of woes, of eternal pain, and loss,” Sophia said, feeling desolate. “We should abandon all hope when we are born. Happiness is a mere sparkle in the darkness.”

“‘A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark.’” He quoted in Italian as he studied her notes in the margins.

Her laughter sounded like a rasp, betraying how crestfallen she remained from her earlier encounter. “Good, Alistair, very good. Dante would be proud.”

“You were feeling desperate when you read Inferno,” he stated. “What was your sin at the time, Sophia?” Lust?

“If hell exists, like he said, I shall go to the seventh circle of hell.”

He stroked his chin, his brows creased in thought. “Violence? It is violence, right?” She nodded. Hmm, no submissive is violent. So difficult to unveil, Sophia. He returned the book to its place and went on with his exploration. “I haven’t read this.” He paused when he reached The Name of the Rose and pulled it out. “Not as many notes,” he affirmed absently, his mind still puzzled by the woman next to him.

“It’s a novel,” she shrugged.

He halted at the last phrase. “Ah.” His brows knitted. “What does this mean?” He angled the book down.

“In omnibus requiem quaesivi, et nusquam inveni nisi in angulo cum libro,” she recited. “It’s Latin; a quotation by Thomas à Kempis, a German medieval monk and writer. It means ‘Everywhere I have searched for peace and nowhere found it, except in a corner with a book.’ One of the most truthful sentences in the world.” Her finger traced the lines.

“Whoever you saw turned your light mood to a despondent one,” Alistair uttered quietly.

She remained silent, stoically enduring his scrutiny.

“May I borrow it?” Say yes. I need a reason to see you again.

“If you-” She swallowed and lifted her face to his, “Alistair, I’m seeing someone.” She blushed and murmured, “Best to keep this as a business relationship.”

She can really read my mind. Dumbfounded and endeared by her embarrassment, he smiled wickedly at her. “My dear, if this man knew how to satisfy you, you wouldn’t have responded to me like you did in the car,” he whispered. “Aren’t you curious to know how I can make you feel?”

She bit her lip and he cupped her jaw between his hands. “Ah-ah.” His green eyes sparkled flames. “Don’t!” His thumb caressed her full lips.

She freed herself from his grip, suddenly hot from his touch. What is the problem with biting my lip? It’s mine, dammit. She walked to the balcony doors and he followed.

He dropped his head until his hair tickled her cheek. “You haven’t answered my question.” His arms caged her and he slightly pressed his hips on her back.

“You can borrow it,” she answered quickly.

His throaty, low laughter fanned her neck and sent desire careening up her spine.

“Smart, Sophia, smart,” he chortled. “I like it.” He went back to his position in front of the shelf.

Sophia let out a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding.

Oh, God. This is not going to end well.

Chapter 8

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

Saturday, January 23rd, 2010.

Late evening.

“I’m not moving in with you, you know?” Sophia said to Ethan, rising from his bed.

“Sophia, baby, tomorrow is Sunday,” he sighed and stretched. “I missed you yesterday.”

“I had a terrible headache.” She looked at him from the threshold of the bathroom and bit her lip. “Ethan, we have been seeing each other almost every day and I have slept in your apartment at least six times since… I have a private life.”

“You do? One that doesn’t include me?” His expression turned dark.

She returned to the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed and looked intently at him. “I have to tell you something.”

He pushed up, sat, and leaned toward her. “What is it?” A dreadful feeling permeated his body.

“Ethan, please, don’t be mad. I haven’t said this before because-” She waved her hand on the air.

“Come on, Sophia. Say it!” he almost yelled, his eyes feverish.

“I have a three year old daughter.”

Ethan felt as if someone had kicked him in his gut. My Sophia is not mine. Pure shock showed on his face. “That is why you never spend the whole weekend with me. She is the reason behind the excuses not to sleep with me.”

“Ethan, she is not an excuse. She is my daughter.” Oh, God! “I’d like for you to meet her. I mean… If you want.”

Ethan closed his eyes, cursing inwardly. Goddammit! This is a royal mess. I’ve never wanted children.

His mother did him this huge favor. He would never make a good father. He was too insecure, too jealous, too controlling. Too fucked up. He had no clue where children were concerned.

I’ll lose Sophia if I don’t agree to meet the brat. Jesus!

“Ethan…” Sophia’s soft palm rested on his arm, her fingers curling around it, and he opened his eyes. She almost jumped from the bed. She saw such agony inside his eyes. God! Where did all this pain come from? “You don’t have to-”

“Sleep here. Tomorrow, we’ll have lunch together. At her favorite place.” He cupped her face. “I want you to be happy, Sophia. I want to make you the happiest woman in the world.”

Sophia contemplated his words for a moment and acquiesced. “All right. As you wish. I’m sure you will like Gabriela. She is a sweet child.”

He opened his arms and she let him embrace her.

Well, it hadn’t been as difficult as I thought. Sophia raised her head to look at him. “Thank you, Ethan.”

Ethan hugged Sophia tightly, but didn’t utter a word. A sudden anxiety burgeoned inside him. I’m going to lose her.

How she had become so vital to him in such little time he did not know, but he didn’t really care.

All he wanted was her, at his side.

Forever.

Leibowitz Oil Building.

Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010.

2 p.m.

Edward knocked and entered Sophia’s office. “I’ve just arrived from lunch, love. Sarah said you were looking for me.”

“Ah… Yes, Edward. I wish to review the environmental requests that were made last week for the new oil rig in Rio.” She distractedly motioned to two huge envelopes at the corner of her desk. “Can you go through them with me, please?”

“Yes, of course.” He eyed her carefully and put a hand on the envelopes, before she took the first pile of paper. “Sophia, what’s going on?”

She shook her head, not looking in his eyes. “It’s nothing. I’m just worried about these requirements.”

“Could you do me a big favor, dear?” he asked.

She lifted her face to look at his ravishing blue eyes. “Yes, of course. What do you need?”

“Never play poker.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t know how to lie to friends, Sophia. Don’t start now.” He grabbed her hand and took her to the sofa on the other side of the room. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” He sat beside her.

“I don’t understand exactly what it is, Edward. It’s-”

“Ethan.”

“Yes. It’s Ethan. He’s possessive, controlling and… extremely jealous. He should be named Cronus. I know we have been together for only a short time, but he demands too much. We see each other practically every day. He wants me to sleep at his place every time we go out at night, every weekend.” She sighed. “But what has been nagging me is that although he wants me at his side in a permanent way, he shuns Gabriela… He doesn’t say it, but… he finds the most ridiculous excuses. And she is missing me at home. Well, I always knew it would be difficult… That some men…” She looked at him; her hands moving as if asking for an explanation, some help.

Edward sighed too and held her hand. “Sophia, Ethan is… He isn’t for you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“A feeling. Seems that this instinct thing of yours is infectious.” He smiled at her and tucked a strand of her raven hair behind her ear. “But, listen… if you do wish to stay in this relationship, you have to look at it with his eyes. Gabriela is not his daughter. Give him a little more time. He will come around. Your daughter is too kind and beautiful. She will win him over.”

She looked at her hands. “Would you believe me, Edward, if I said he is even jealous of Gabriel?”

“He knows who Gabriel was?”

She shook her head.

“And you are not telling him,” he stated the fact. “Sophia, you’re in England. There is no reason to hide from everything and everyone anymore. It has been almost two years… You can’t go on living like that. What if someone remembers you in front of one of your new friends?”

“I will deal with it when the time comes.” She wrung her hands. “It’s not easy, Edward.”

He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I know it isn’t, but you have come a long way. Are you going to keep hiding because of what happened to Gabriel?”

She rose, angered. “You don’t know anything. It happened to me. Have you been shot before? Have you?” She heaved and paced the office. “I still have nightmares. Horrible nightmares. I wake up screaming almost every night. I can’t sleep near my daughter. Don’t tell me you know-”

“Hey, easy.” He put his hands up. “I’m just trying to help.”

She stared at him for a second and dropped on the sofa, her face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Edward. I apologize. I shouldn’t-”

“Hush, love, hush.” His fingers pried her hands apart and he took his handkerchief from his suit. “Here. Don’t cry.”

“I’m so confused, Edward.” She put her forehead on his chest, her tears falling silently. “I don’t know if I should… If I want to stay with Ethan. And I don’t feel safe. At all. Alberto has been sniffing around too close for my peace of mind.”

“I understand. I swear I do. Don’t worry too much about Alberto. What could he do to you? You’re not in Brazil anymore.” His hand caressed her hair. “No doctor here will fall for his bribery. And you are stable, now.”

“He could get me arrested, Edward,” she whispered. “I would lose Gabriela.”

“He has no proof. No one has,” he paused for a moment and thought about his next words. “Sophia, you and I, we know what you did was wrong. But it’s done. And all that was left… were just ashes… They can’t speak against you. Ever. And the… guys won’t either. They are guiltier than you are. They are the criminals. Their word won’t hold up. Can’t you understand that?”

The faces of eleven evil men floated in Sophia’s mind and she shook her head hard, shooing the images away. She raised her tear streaked face to him. “Rationally, I can. But here,” she touched her chest, “deep inside, I can’t. What was I thinking, Edward? Sooner or later, one way or another, I’m going to pay for it.”

“Sophia, please, stop this,” he hugged her in his arms, heavyhearted.

After a few moments, a frown appeared on his brow. “But this isn’t the eye of the storm, is it? I know what is making you so confused.” He curled his fingers under her chin. He lifted her face to his, took the handkerchief from her hand, and he dried her tears. “It’s him, isn’t it?” he finally said. “You don’t know what to do with him.”

“Who?” she asked, disconcerted. “Ethan?”

“No.” His knowing gaze pierced her. “MacCraig. Alistair Connor.” He sneered at her and jutted his chin toward the beautiful and fresh white roses in a crystal vase on her shelf. “That big hunk has been stalking you every other day. He has stirred your feelings back to life, hasn’t he? He is the one for you, Sophia. Trust me.”

“He’s dangerous,” she sighed. “Trouble.”

“Oh, love… What is life without a bit of danger, of risk? What are you afraid of, Sophia? Afraid of loving again? Is that why you’re wasting your time with Ethan?”

Italy, Venice, Marco Polo Airport.

Friday, February 5th, 2010.

2.10 p.m.

The Hotel Cipriani’s assistant greeted Ethan and Sophia at the Marco Polo Airport to escort them to the pier and transport them in the hotel’s private boat.

Set on the water, the timeless beauty of Venice awakened all of Sophia’s senses. She returned to Venice time and again, and it always brought new and different experiences.

Sophia sighed as she watched the breathtaking sight of opulent palazzi, majestic churches, and atmospheric canals passing by as the boat sped in the direction of the hotel.

They arrived at the private garden and dock of the Palladio suite. With a flourish, Ethan opened the door of the suite for her and she felt as if she was suspended above the lagoon. The sumptuously decorated living room had panoramic views over the magical Venetian lagoon through huge windows. And there were red roses everywhere she looked. She felt transported to the eighteenth century.

“Ethan! You crazy man!” She smiled at him.

“All for you, baby.” He smiled back. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ethan said as he opened a Krug Rosé that had been chilling in a silver cooler.

Sophia walked up to the window, enchanted by the view.

“I want you to enjoy the weekend.” Ethan came from behind and handed her a flute.

“Cheers. To you.” She touched her flute to his and drank. “I love this city.”

He breathed in her hair, wrapping his arms around her waist. “And I love you.”

She whirled around. “It’s-”

“Shhh. I know you’re still unsure, but I love you. You don’t have to say anything.” His Mediterranean azure eyes were sparkling. “I’ve planned so many surprises for you.”

“It’s your birthday and you planned surprises for me?” She sipped her champagne.

“Yes, starting in…” he looked at his Vaucheron Constantin Tour d’Ille watch, “five minutes, max.”

Their personal butler knocked on the door, and announced they had visitors.

“Starting now,” Ethan said, bit her earlobe and turned to receive the group.

The butler announced Signora Marconi and she suddenly flooded the airy living room along with four assistants. In their arms, the two women and two men carried heaps of velvet, silk, and plumes.

Sophia looked at Ethan, questioning him silently.

“Our costumes for the doge’s ball,” he explained. “Mrs. Marconi, I’m sure everything is perfect for tomorrow night.”

“Signore Ashford, this is my easiest and most pleasurable mission.” The short and thin woman answered as she measured Sophia. “Signora Ashford is belissima!”

Sophia giggled at the mistake and Ethan kissed her soundly. “See you in a few minutes, Signora Ashford.” He waved at Sophia with a wicked smile, leaving the room with the men to try on his ensemble.

The small woman unzipped a black garment bag and took out a mantua with a small train made of black velvet embroidered with silvery thread and Swarovski drops. The embroidery was a delicate pattern of flowers and swirls. The black velvet sparkled like a starry night.

“It’s magical,” Sophia breathed, delighted by the cloth.

Mrs. Marconi helped Sophia put on a delicate silver and black silk brocade gown with a fitted bodice and flared petticoats, fastening them on Sophia’s body. The low, square neckline and bodice emphasized her collarbones and breasts. The black, sparkling mantua was drawn back over the hips to expose the bodice and petticoat beneath, fitting tightly at her waist. The sleeves narrowed at the elbows and then opened wide to show the lace-trimmed sleeves beneath, almost covering her wrists. The matching shoes, made of the same black embroidered velvet, had a curved heel and a squarish toe with a bow of the silver brocade.

“It is absolutely perfect, Signora.” Sophia marveled at the gown. “You had my measurements?”

“Your husband knows your size exactly, Signora.” The woman circled an amused and grinning Sophia. “Splendida. Come and see in the full length mirror.” She held Sophia’s hand and led her to the bedroom, knocking on the door and waiting for an answer.

Ethan opened the double doors and had already changed into his normal clothes. His breath caught in his lungs. He lifted a hand, stopping the women and stepped back to better enjoy the amazing vision in front of him. He tilted his head to the side. “Magnificent,” he breathed. He crooked his finger at her, commanding her inside the master bedroom.

When Sophia saw her reflection in the mirror, she stood in awe of it. “Lovely.”

“Just perfect. Everything I had imagined,” he whispered in her ear, “my queen.”

Signora Marconi advanced, taking Sophia’s hair up and pilling it up with some pins. “No wig. Definitivamente, no wig and no hat. You need something sparkling in this glorious hair. Maybe the silver plumes. Or a Swarovski diadem.”

“Diamonds.”

“Bravo, Signore Ashford! Let’s see the effect.” She snapped her fingers and an assistant hurried to pick out what she wanted.

“How were your clothes, Signore?”

“Perfect. As for the hat, I prefer the one with the black plumes.”

She rearranged Sophia’s hair in a loose bun and set a sparkling diadem on her head and some plumes, leaving a cascade of locks at the back, dropping them to her left shoulder. “No,” she said, thinking out loud, “no plumes in the hair. You don’t need accessories. Hmm,” the seamstress pursed her lips. “Curls. Si, si,” she bobbed her head, “you should have curls. I will set an appointment with Marco Bianchi for your hair and makeup, Signora. He is the best in Venezia. Is five okay?”

“May I?” Sophia asked, looking at the box with combs, pins, tiaras and a whole set of hair accessories. She took off the tiara and fitted a single Swarovski headband with small leaves over her hair. “What do you think?” She asked Ethan.

“Well,” he cocked his head to the side, “if you like it better, it’s up to you.”

She looked at the mirror and liked the effect.

Simple, but extremely elegant. “It will go spectacularly well with the Makis set you gave me.”

“Hmm…” he lifted an eyebrow and shrugged.

“You can use this headband, Signora.”

“Done. So, tomorrow at five o’clock I will wait for Marco.” She pivoted in front of the mirror and beamed at the seamstress. “Thank you very much. I loved it.”

Sophia emerged from the bedroom into the living room. Ethan talked on his Blackberry while perched on the desk near the door to a private balcony overlooking the lagoon. When he saw her, he ended the call and stood to welcome her in his arms.

“It’s still raining,” he pouted and led her to sit with him on a love seat facing the canal.

She laughed. “You look like a child who’s been forbidden to play with his favorite toy.” She sat on his lap. “The weather will get better, you will see. I checked online this morning.”

“Taste this,” he put a Venetian biscuit in her mouth, grinning naughtily at her.

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes, savoring the delicacy. “I think you’re trying to cloud my senses with all these delights. What do you want this time, Ethan?”

“You,” he murmured in her ear, sending a thrill through her body. “Only you. It’s all I want. You.”

She smiled at him. “You know, if we had some time to spare tomorrow,” she said between bites, “I’d love to visit Rubelli Fabrics.”

“For your new house?”

“Mm-hmm. I told my sister Carol I was coming here and she told me to go. Their shop is hidden in a tiny square just off Piazza San Marco. They have the most gorgeous velvets and silks. Their finest silk damasks adorn the grand apartments of the Palazzo Ducale. I want the rooms of my house restored to their former glory.”

“Sure, baby. We have some time before our dinner. Want to go now?”

Sophia jumped from his lap. “Let me get my coat.”

5.19 p.m.

“You have such good taste, Ethan. And you’re very patient. I’ve never seen a man so willing to help out in a shopping spree,” Sophia said while they strolled back to the pier.

“Your company is worth it.” He helped her board the boat, said something to the captain, and sat at her side, with an adoring smile on his lips.

As the sun set, it lent a golden hue to the magical, romantic city.

“A small detour,” he explained as the boat slowed down, putting his arms around her. “It’s said that lovers are granted eternal love and bliss if they kiss on a gondola at sunset under the Bridge of Sighs,” he murmured looking into her eyes and kissed her when the shadow of the bridge fell over them. And I want us together, eternally.

She smiled at him when he ended the kiss, “Do you think we can steel the hope of the late prisoners?”

He frowned, “Prisoners?”

“The famous name of the bridge refers to the sighs of prisoners who, passing from the courtroom in the Doge’s Palace to the prison, sighed as they took a last look at freedom glimpsing the lagoon through its small windows. You’ve never been inside the bridge?” He shook his head. “We should go tomorrow morning.”

“I’d love to, baby.” He grinned at her.

“Did you know that Casanova was one of the most famous inmates of the prison? He escaped onto the roof one night, reentered the palace, and was let out through the front door as if he were a magistrate working late.”

“Casanova… You know the most peculiar things, don’t you?” He never felt so happy in his whole life. He had never dreamt of finding a woman like her.

“Do you know how many women he bedded during his life?”

He shook his head, amazed. “No, but you do.”

“He boasted in his memoirs that he had a hundred-and-twenty-two lovers. The question is,” she wiggled her brows at him, teasing, “did he satisfy them all?”

“The legend says he did,” he chuckled, “but what matters to me is: Do I satisfy you?” he murmured on her ear.

“I’ll answer,” she bit his earlobe, “this ridiculous question” and she kissed his throat, “back at the hotel room.”

He cupped his face and stared deeply into her eyes, “I can’t wait, baby.”

Saturday, February 6th, 2010.

9.30 a.m.

Ethan nuzzled Sophia’s neck. “Wake up, lazybones. Breakfast is here.”

As always, he was already up and dressed before her.

What on earth he does to me to make me sleep late, I can’t fathom. “Good morning.” She stretched lazily on the bed and blinked. Saturday the sixth! “Oh! Ethan!” She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him, “Happy birthday, my dear.”

She kissed him on the lips and jumped from the bed. Grabbing a wrap, she opened the chest of drawers digging with one hand under her clothes for his gifts while the other struggled to tie her wrap. She turned to him, hiding two boxes behind her back. He grinned at her sudden clumsiness.

“I have something for you. I hope you like it.”

His azure eyes sparkled with love. “The best gift you can give me is your smile.”

“Very well,” she smiled broadly at him. “Seems I have made the right choice.” She handed him the smaller box from her back and handed it to him with a quick kiss on his cheek. “But first, this.” She put the box in his hand. “This reminds me of your eyes. I had them made for you.”

He first opened the cream and navy card attached to the box.

Venice, February 6th, 2010.

Dear Ethan,

I wish you the same happiness you have given me.

Sophia.

He kissed her on the lips, enchanted. “You’re so sweet, baby.”

From a black velvet box, he removed a pair of classic square cufflinks and four shirt studs. Each one featured a three carat cushion-cut Brazilian Paraíba tourmaline almost the exact color of his eyes set in platinum.

“Sophia, darling…” he breathed. “They’re extraordinary. Where did you find such a gem?”

“Well, the Paraíba tourmaline is Brazilian.” She lifted a shoulder, dismissing all the trouble she had been through to locate the exact color and size she wanted. The gems were very rare. And the color she had chosen, even more so.

“The color is exquisite, isn’t it? Just like your eyes.” She smiled at him. “Now. This isn’t your main gift, but, I think you will like it the most.” A big, rectangular bluish-gray silk box from Buccellati wrapped with a gray shiny ribbon appeared from behind her back. “Open it,” she beckoned.

He eyed her askance and opened the box taking out another case. He lifted the lid slowly, blinking when he looked at the intricate silver frame that encased a photo of him embracing a smiling Sophia, in front a beautiful sunset at his manor in Scotland they had visited the previous weekend. At the bottom of the photo was a message in her handwriting, in dark-green ink.

Thanks for bringing me back to life. S.

It took his breath away.

“Oh, baby.” He sat there, frozen, looking at the photo and at the message, in complete wonder. This woman is absolutely perfect. “Sophia… What have I done to deserve you?”

7.50 p.m.

Sophia admired Bianchi’s work on her hair. The diamond headband Ethan had given her earlier that afternoon shimmered in the mirror. It was similar to the one by Swarovski she had tried on yesterday.

He is really crazy. She shook her head, a broad smile on her face, and reapplied the lipstick when she heard Ethan cursing in the bedroom.

“Need some help?” she inquired, entering the bedroom. She first noticed two Venetian velvet capes on the bed: one plain and one hooded and lined with white ermine. Alongside them were identical Columbine black masks decorated with silver Italian lace and Swarovski crystal, two pairs of black gloves, a small, velvet-embroidered pouch handbag, a walking stick, and a black tricorn hat with black plumes.

Ethan stood in front of the mirror, wearing a gray wig, a black velvet dress coat finished with antique silver braids and breeches, a silver brocade waistcoat buttoned over a black shirt with cuffs and jabot lace, black knee-high socks, and black velvet shoes with a silver buckle and two-inch heels.

“I don’t know if this was such a good idea,” he spun on his heels facing her.

“What-” she stopped, openmouthed. She bit her lip to hold her laughter but wasn’t able to interrupt the twist of her lips.

“Laugh on,” his mouth curled up, too. “I’m ridiculous, I know.”

An unbidden grin appeared on Sophia’s face as she walked up to him and her fingertips touched his shaved jaw. “Have you gone crazy? Why did you do it?”

“It was that bloody Marco Bianchi’s idea.” He leaned his face on her palm, scolding. “He said that men from the eighteenth century didn’t have beards.” He shrugged.

Sophia giggled and shook her head. “You silly man.” She kissed his jaw, running her lips over it, “I like it better this way. You have a strong jaw.”

He captured her lips with his, appeased. “So it’s settled. No more beard for me.” He extended his bent arm, “Shall we, Your Majesty?”

They arrived punctually at eight-thirty. From the moment they approached the sumptuous Palazzo Pisani Moretta on the Grand Canal, Sophia’s imagination soared. Upon their arrival at the doorstep, they were welcomed into a fairy-tale world of dancers, singers, musicians, jesters, acrobats, and fire-eaters.

The façade of the palazzo was an example of Venetian gothic floral style with its two floors of six-light mullioned windows and ogival arches.

Inside the palace, the sensual and sophisticated decor depicted debauchery at its most extreme. Ancient decadent Rome mixed with Bram Stoker’s Dracula and creatures of hell. Representations of flesh abounded everywhere. Decadent sculptures and paintings of lascivious nudes proliferated. Devils, winged-demons, extravagantly dressed vampires and barely dressed pans, harpies, and fallen angels, some bare breasted, others covered only in body makeup, taunted the guests as they arrived.

The air resonated with the theme of the ball: Seven Dreams-Seven Sins. Candles were the only lighting and they were everywhere: in the candelabra, hanging from the walls and ceilings, and on tables, inside and around skulls on niches or consoles.

“God, Ethan. This is more scandalous than Carnival in Rio.”

“Never been to Rio.” He eyed her, “Are you shocked?”

“No, no at all.” She linked their arms. “We should go together, one day. It’s one of the most beautiful places in earth.” But deadly.

After drinking a glass of champagne, they were invited upstairs to the Noble Floor to dine by candlelight amongst lavish red-and-black décor.

The palazzo’s interiors, created in the baroque style, added the final touch to the decadent ambience.

They were directed to their table by a grim vampire who wore just a loincloth. He helped Sophia with her seat and left. Their table seated six but it was still empty.

“Can I leave you alone for a second?” As she nodded, he kissed her lips, “I’ll return in a minute, baby.”

Sophia looked around. The rooms were intimate and personal, silk paneled and with outstanding ceiling frescoes. Comedians and magicians walked among the guests, entertaining.

“Buona sera.” A man wearing a golden and black mask, similar to the one worn by the Phantom of the Opera, sat on the chair by her side. “Mi scusi, signorina.”

“Of course,” she answered in Italian. “Good evening.”

“You’re Italian?” he asked, in a cultured voice.

She looked around searching for Ethan. “No.”

“First time in Venice?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Do you like it here?”

“Yes, Venice is stunning.”

The masked man smiled at her. “As are you.”

She startled.

“But, of course, my dear, you know that, don’t you?” The dark eyes behind the mask gleamed. “If they had a contest for the belle of the ball, you, undoubtedly, would win.”

My goodness. “Oh, please,” Sophia murmured and looked down at her pouch bag, playing with it.

“I’m Giulio Spedalletti. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Sophia,” she murmured.

“Just Sophia?”

“We’re at a masked ball. Identities aren’t supposed to matter here.” She smiled graciously at him.

“Excuse my handsome companion, my dear. Tonight is a night where dreams can become true,” a sensuous voice drawled from behind Sophia.

She whipped around to see a gorgeous woman, clothed in a scandalous gold-and-black dress, sitting on her other side, leaning in her direction. “Sometimes, they’re better revealed if done in anonymity, so one can sin without worries, wouldn’t you agree?”

Sophia looked astonished at the woman. She looked like a Greek goddess. Black hair, olive unblemished skin, full red lips, and incredible blue eyes.

“A pleasure, Sophia. I’m Calista,” her sensual and raspy voice blended perfectly with the surroundings. “Are you Greek?”

“No. Why?”

“Your name. It’s Greek. And your appearance. Hazel eyes,” Calista lifted a jeweled hand to play with Sophia’s curls, “And your hair, so black. Is it natural?”

Sophia shrank back, uncomfortable under the close scrutiny of such a brazen woman. “Yes, it’s natural.”

“George will arrive with Antonia soon, my dear,” Calista purred to Giulio. “Order some champagne for us, will you?”

“I see you have ensnared a true beauty for our sinful night, my love,” said a middle-aged, brown-haired man in a striking white-and-gold costume. Draped on his arm was a young woman even more scantily clad than Calista. She wore a white-and-gold, almost-transparent costume and a gray, curly wig; her sensuality a palpable force.

“This is my husband, George, and his friend, Antonia.”

Sophia suddenly felt an overpowering need to run away from this weird group. She rose from her chair. “I’m sorry. I will go look for my date.”

“If I were you, my dear, I would wait for him here. A ravishing woman like you should not wander alone among dark creatures tempting everyone to sin,” said George, grinning.

Suddenly, Sophia’s chair was pulled back and, an arm snaked possessively around her waist, a strong body pressed to her back. She looked up and exhaled, relieved. Ethan.

“Sometimes, George, sin and temptation are nearer to us than we imagine,” Ethan’s voice was hard and unwavering. “Calista, how are you?”

“My dear, you look handsome as always.” Calista rose from her seat and approached Ethan and Sophia. “I see you have finally come to your senses. We’re going to enjoy ourselves greatly this evening.” She tried to kiss him but he recoiled from her lips. “Join us, my dear. Think of something spectacular, something sumptuous, something dreamy. And something sinful,” she said huskily, her fingers caressing his arm. He tensed. “Nothing is forbidden; everything, anything is allowed to happen. You can celebrate carnival and dreams, passion and love!”

“Love! Ha!” he said, scornfully. Lust, you mean. “If I had known that you were here, I wouldn’t have come.” He retrieved Sophia’s bag, “Let’s go, baby.”

“Ethan, where are your manners?” George called, boisterously. “We were getting to know your delightful date. Don’t be selfish.”

“I don’t want to see Sophia tainted by your games,” he said through clenched teeth. “I bid you a good night.” He grabbed Sophia’s hand and towed her behind him, leaving the room in haste.

“Ethan, wait!” Sophia pulled his hand three times before he stopped. He was heaving. She put a calming hand on his chest, “Ask if the hostess can put us at a different table.”

“Goddammit,” he swore and breathed deeply, the turmoil of his emotions unraveling on his face. “You’re right, baby. Come on.”

They wandered around the gardens behind the palazzo admiring the waning moon making its shy appearance behind the clouds. Ethan’s tense grip of Sophia’s hand almost hurt her.

“I’ve always loved Venice but this visit has revealed new treasures and deepened my affection for its charms.” She smiled at him. “I will never forget our romantic gondola ride. The splash of water against the gondolier’s oar as he sang ‘Champagne’ was unforgettable.”

He tried to smile back but it came out as a grimace.

“You shouldn’t let your friends ruin your birthday,” she said hesitantly.

His laughter rose from his bitterness and hurt, “My friends.” He spun to look at her. “They’re not my friends, Sophia. They are my parents.”

Her shocked gasp broke the silent night. “Parents?” Looking at him carefully, she could see the resemblance between Ethan and his parents. He had the same skin and eyes as his mother. His father must have had hair exactly like his when younger.

“Your mother is a stunning woman. And still very young.”

“Yes, she is. So is my father. They deserve each other. The motherfuckers.” He wrung his hands as if he wanted to do the same with his parents’ necks.

She sucked in a breath, astonished by the rage, the pain, and the loathing in Ethan’s voice.

“Don’t be so shocked, Sophia. Not everyone has been graced with a caring, loving, and normal family like yours,” he huffed. “My parents never wanted me. I was born because my Greek grandfather threatened to disinherit and throw my mother out on the street. He wouldn’t abide an abortion.”

His face crumpled from painful memories.

“Calista was too pampered, too self-centered. I was raised in a big and cold house in Chiswick, by nannies and tutors. Every time I started to attach myself to someone, she fired the employee.”

He sighed, the small breath coming out painfully from within him. “She was beautiful, Sophia, so beautiful. I did everything she wanted me to. But nothing was ever good enough. I idolized her. I wanted her to notice me. For her to play with me, hug me, and kiss me. To be my mom.”

Ethan closed his eyes, his brows drawn tight.

“When I was thirteen,” his voice was so low that Sophia stepped closer to hear him, “my parents allowed me to stay late at one of their parties. Of course, I thought it was an honor. The evening started as usual. About ten couples. Cocktails. Dinner. Some cognac and port after. Cigars. As the evening progressed, the older guests left.”

The story started to come out in choppier, uneven sentences. “About midnight, we moved to another reception room. Plush chairs, ottomans, divans, big velvety cushions on the floor. It was all there was. The lights dimmed. Calista appeared in a new gown.”

He opened his eyes to look at her and Sophia snaked her arms around his waist. “A turquoise-gauze dress. Many, many layers of gauze. Tied so strangely. Her hair was down. She had put kohl around her eyes. They sparkled like blue flames. Gone was my mother, always so aloof, cold, and controlled. I thought I’d had too much to drink. I couldn’t believe my eyes.” His brows drew closer together. “Singers and musicians positioned themselves in a corner and sensuous and rhythmic music filled the room. Something Indian or Arabic. Dancers emerged from somewhere. My heart started to thrum inside my chest to the beat of the music.”

He jerked his head, trying to dislodge the memories. They’ll never go away. Try as I might, they won’t subside. Never, ever.

“Ethan, please.” Sophia could almost foretell the rest of the story. Her heart clenched agonizingly for the boy that was still suffering inside the handsome man in front of her.

“I’ve never told this to anyone, Sophia,” he murmured and gathered her closer to his chest, his arms around her.

“My mother and the dancers. They moved so beautifully it was difficult not to stare. The Dance of the Seven Veils. They positioned themselves in front of the sprawled guests and started to… seduce them.” He dropped his head to her shoulder, burying his face in her hair. “Jackets and ties were discarded within seconds. High heels were taken off. I was ashamed. I was tall-already six foot two, but hadn’t started to build a body. All arms and legs. A teenager, you know…” he breathed.

“And then Calista started to dance for me, shedding layer after layer of gauze. My father stood behind me and took off my jacket, my tie, and my belt. When they stepped closer, crowding over me… When she bent to… I pushed Calista hard and ran. She was going to…” he sobbed. “They wanted to…”

“Shhh.” Sophia scattered tiny kisses on his wet face framed tenderly between her hands. “It’s okay. It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you again.”

“I called my grandfather that very night and asked him if I could move in with him. He asked why but I was too shaken to explain the real reasons. But he must have guessed because he cursed Calista with so many foul words… Then, the next morning when I was packing, I heard King, my sheepdog puppy, yelping.”

He whispered so low that Sophia could barely hear his voice. “I looked for him through the house and found him in the back garden. Dead. She left a note beside his body in her childish handwriting. ‘Never reject me again.’”

“Oh, Ethan.” Pity, angst, and anger constricted her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

“I furtively buried King in the garden with the help of the cook and went to Athens, only to return to England for college. I have not set foot in their house since.”

He looked at her, with such sadness in his face that she wanted to cry. “Unfortunately,” he breathed mournfully, “that’s my story, baby.”

Neither one of them had much appetite for the delicious dinner. When it ended, they moved to the Noble Hall on the first floor to watch a series of outstanding performances around the theme of sin. A joyous, sophisticated, and sensual show. When it ended, Ethan took her around the palazzo for a bit, showing her all the beautiful, individually decorated rooms.

“Come.” He held his hand to her, “Let’s dance.”

Sophia eyed Ethan with a wicked gleam in her eyes and undid the clasp that held her mantua closed, letting it glide off her shoulders sensuously.

“Jesus, Sophia.” His azure eyes sparkled with hunger and he bent to kiss her bare shoulder. “Do you want to unman me here?” he whispered in her ear. His hand ran over the strapless bodice that enhanced her breasts and revealed her curves. “Temptress.”

“Behave!” She gripped his hand and dragged him to the dance-floor.

The disco music throbbed as Sophia let herself go with it, the rhythm in her veins. They danced until the small hours of the morning.

When they returned to the hotel, Ethan had a peaceful expression on his face.

Two table lamps were on, softly illuminating the living room.

From the minifridge hidden inside a cabinet in the corner, Sophia took out a bottle of Cristal Louis Roederer. “Another toast.” She handed him the champagne bottle. “Open, please. I’ll be right back.”

He popped the cork.

“Where are the damn glasses?” he muttered, looking around.

“We don’t need glasses,” she whispered in his ear when she came back to the living room and snatched the bottle from his hand, laughing. Swirling away with it, she drank from the bottle, the champagne dribbling down her chin and onto her breasts. The icy liquid spread downward.

“Mmm,” she moaned and shuddered, whispering hoarsely, “it’s cold.” She dragged a hand over her neck, breasts, and flat stomach. The thin black gauze of her wrap clung to the swelling curve of her breasts and her nipples tightened.

Ethan’s mind shut down as he watched Sophia dance away from him, crossing the living room to the windows, the wrap swirling around her legs. The first light of day had started to creep in the sky and outlined her lean body and long legs.

He stalked her slowly and cornered her by the window, caging her with one arm on the wall. He fixed her with his blistering gaze, took the bottle from her hands, and lifted it over her shoulders, letting the champagne wash over her.

She moaned, letting her head fall back. Her mouth curved into a slow, wicked smile, “I’ve never had a chilled champagne shower before,” she licked her lips, “I want more,” she demanded naughtily.

“You little devil,” he breathed as he stepped to the fridge, shedding his coat, waistcoat, and shirt onto a chair.

She followed him, untying her wrap, and shrugging it off. It floated to the ground in a dark cloud. She reached for him to divest him of his breeches as he opened a magnum bottle.

He toed off his shoes as he popped out another cork and handed the bottle to her, ordering, “Drink.”

She lifted the bottle to her mouth, caressing it erotically with her fingers, lips, and tongue, promising with her eyes to do the same to him.

His gaze didn’t waver from the show as he finished taking off his clothes. He picked up the bottle from her and let the golden liquid pour from it slowly in a steady rivulet to soak her more.

“Don’t finish it on me,” she snatched the bottle from him with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

The soft light from the incoming dawn danced on her wet skin and flashed on the diamonds of her headband as she tipped her head to drink and her hand closed over him and traveled the length of his erection.

She reached for him and scattered kisses along his jaw, licking a trail to his earlobe. She took it into her mouth and suckled.

Ethan groaned, “So good.” His head dropped to kiss her shoulder and lapped at her collarbone, “You and Cristal, the perfect combination.” He pulled away her nightgown and he licked his way to her breast and drew the nipple between his lips, sucking hard.

Sophia threw a hand into his hair, holding him in place. “Oh,” she gasped, “Ethan.” With a gentle shove to his shoulders, she backed him onto the sofa. She stood between his legs and slowly ran a hand over her moistened abdomen and stroked his erection in her wet palm.

“Sophia,” he moaned, “please.”

“What do you want?” She glided her hand harder, longer.

“Don’t tease, Sophia,” his hips jerked on the sofa and his breathing quickened.

She tightened her hold and stopped, causing him to moan in distress. “What do you want?”

“I want you,” he groaned, “take me in your mouth.”

“Mmm, let me see what I can do about that,” she murmured, her tongue licking his parted lips leisurely.

He sucked her tongue between his lips, grunting with desire and his hands caressed her rump. Her hand left his arousal for his chest and she handed him the bottle, “Drink.”

Her fingers lightly caressed his hard chest and she bent to kiss one nipple and then another, sucking them both hard.

Ethan grunted in instant appreciation.

Sophia nipped her way down the center of his stomach to his navel, dipping her tongue in his belly button.

His fingers found her curls and he tugged. “Down,” he rasped.

She dropped to her knees, between his thighs, her hand motioning for the bottle. She drank a gulp and smiled sinfully at him. Her hands glided over his thighs to his knees and her nails backed up, scrapping the inside of them.

“Damn, Sophia,” his eyes blazed a darker azure.

She bit at the skin beneath his navel and he drew a long and ragged breath. She drew her cheek along the pulsating length of his hard arousal, moving up from the base to his smooth rounded tip and she lightly blew on him. She drank a gulp of the chilly champagne and took him fully into her cold mouth.

“Sophia,” he shouted. His hands held her shoulders, digging his fingers in her flesh. The muscles of his stomach tightened and flexed as he thrust forward between her lips.

She sucked him into her mouth fiercely and he howled in pleasure as she worked her mouth along him.

He watched as her mouth worshipped him.

Her hands grasped the base of his erection as desire shot through her body. She loved giving pleasure.

Seeing was too much, and Ethan pulled her by the arms onto his lap before the orgasm shattered him. “Ride me,” he ordered, gripping her hips.

Her fingers gripped his shoulders and slowly, torturously she sheathed him with her body as he plunged into her at the same time. “Ah, Ethan,” she gasped throatily as he filled her again with a hard thrust.

He gave her a heated kiss, deep and lascivious, dragging his hands over the silky skin of her ribs, down her back to the curve of her bottom as he entered her mercilessly.

He broke the kiss and watched her. Lost in her pleasure, Sophia’s eyes closed and her mouth parted, her head thrown back. Her curls brushed his hands as they moved together.

“So beautiful,” he whispered as he cupped her hips in his hands, “So soft. I love touching you. I love tasting you. Love watching you respond to passion.”

She opened her eyes to look at him.

“How your eyes turn into this yellow feline color when you’re aroused,” he shoved harder into her and she gasped. Ethan felt her body tightening the moment his finger touched her clitoris.

“Sophia, you’re mine,” he said hoarsely with a fierce thrust.

“Ethan,” she gasped and pushed down against him. He plunged into her again and she shattered.

She flung her arms around his neck, dragging him to a searing kiss, her fingers in his hair and holding him tightly as an orgasm consumed her. “Ethan,” she whispered again on his lips.

Every motion and spasm of her body frayed the threads of his self-control. And with another shove, he let go, his climax hitting him hard. With it came a rush of happiness that filled him with wonder. He let himself sink into her soft body.

“Sophia, I love you.” He buried his face in her curled hair and her sweet scent enveloped him. This is heaven. I want to be here every single day of my life.

She shuddered one last time in his arms and he stroked her back waiting for their hearts to calm.

“I love you,” he repeated in her hair, “you are my only and lasting love.”

She purred, her face resting on the hollow of his shoulder, her arms flung around his neck and back.

He felt safe.

He felt secure.

And above all, he felt loved, as he never had before.

Chapter 9

London. Leibowitz Oil Building.

Tuesday, February 9th, 2010.

4.20 p.m.

The intercom buzzed, jolting Sophia. “Yes, Sarah?”

“Mr. Ashford’s on the phone, Mrs. L. I informed him you were busy, but he was quite insistent,” Sarah said in an apologetic voice.

“It’s okay, Sarah, I’ll take his call. Please, hold all others, except Gabriela’s calls. Any excuse will do, all right?”

“Yes, Mrs. L, I’m sorry.”

“No prob,” Sophia sighed and picked up the receiver. “Hello, Ethan.”

“What took you so long, Sophia?” Ethan said, in an annoyed voice.

“Good afternoon to you, too, Ethan.” Sophia said in a voice that held a hint of ice. “I was working. I have responsibilities, you know. Lawsuits with final judgments, contracts to review, essays to mark; small things that, perhaps, are far from your big world but they make up my daily life.”

“Sorry, darling, it’s just that I’m having a stressful day,” Ethan explained himself. “Baby, I’ve changed our plans for this evening. I’m hosting a small dinner for some friends, who came over for a business meeting. They’re French and I would like you to help me receive them.”

“Okay. Do you need me to bring anything?” she offered.

“Just your beautiful presence. My secretary has ordered the catering from Arbutus,” he said. The Michelin-starred restaurant in Soho was one of Ethan’s favorites.

“I’m already salivating.” Sophia loved the exceptional modern European food prepared by Chef Anthony Demeter. “What time do you need me there?”

“Seven o’clock, sharp.”

“Ah, Ethan-”

“See you there, Sophia.”

Sometimes Ethan is insufferable.

Eaton Square.

4.57 p.m.

Sophia arrived at her apartment in a hurry. “Hello,” she called.

Gabriela came running, almost knocking her over on the floor.

“Hello, my love.” She got down on her knees, hugging the little girl and showering her face with kisses.

“Mama, you’re home early today. How was your day? I missed you. I did a pretty drawing for you. And I learned how to write my name and yours. Can I show you? Can I? Can I?” The girl jumped excitedly.

Sophia laughed, standing up with her daughter cradled in her arms. “I missed you too, my angel, and, yes, you can show me your drawing. But I have to run to a meeting. You can write our names for me tomorrow. How’s that? In fact, Maria, I’m not sleeping here tonight.” She looked up at the nanny. “Have Steven and Lucy returned from their day off?”

“Yes, Mrs. Leibowitz. They’re already here.”

“Good.” Sophia breathed relieved. “Don’t forget my instructions, Maria. No one, and I mean no one, is authorized to come up or speak with Gabriela. Not even on the phone.”

“It’s perfectly understood. Mrs. Leibowitz, Lucy informed me when she arrived that everything is ready for us to start moving the furniture and clothes tomorrow and settled in the house by Friday, if this is your wish.”

“Great, Maria. Please, ask her to inform the new cook that she starts tomorrow then.”

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

6.55 p.m.

Sophia rang Ethan’s doorbell and examined herself in the mirrored wall. She liked what she saw. The sleek, tight black dress with a drooping gap at the back did wonders to show off her body and left little to the imagination. She had coiled her hair in a high, loose bun.

She also wore her new gift, a Rolex day-date in white gold and square diamonds, one of the three Ethan had given her. She smiled wickedly. He’d had trouble choosing them, but decided on a diamond pavéd Franck Muller Crazy Hours Totally Crazy watch, a Tag Heuer Calibre Sixteen, and the one she wore tonight.

“Like what you see, Sophia?” Ethan leaned on the doorjamb, looking at her with a small smile on his lips, noticing she had complemented the dress with the spectacular Oiseau des Paradis set he had given her as a Christmas present.

“Yes,” she didn’t heard the door opening. She smiled at him, “Do you?”

His arms wound around her waist, his lips moved close to hers. “Yes, very much. You’re delectable. As always. I think I’m going to cancel dinner and eat you.” He kissed her with so much passion she felt lightheaded.

Oh, my, the man knows how to kiss.

“We have half an hour before the guests arrive. Come inside before I make love to you in the hall.”

He went directly to his bedroom, flinging her clutch on the armchair in his sitting room. He crooked a finger in her direction. “Come here. I want to taste the dessert before the main course.”

She laughed. “Ethan! I’m all dressed and ready for dinner.”

He pursued her, pushing her dress down her shoulders, kissing, and nibbling them. He gazed in her eyes, an intense, hungry look in his blue ones. “I want you. Now. Don’t deny me.”

She laughed again and her hands went to his shirt, undoing the buttons. “You’re unbelievable.”

Sophia, retouching her lipstick in the bathroom mirror, heard Ethan call. “They’ve arrived. Hurry.”

She held her breath and sprayed her favorite Creed perfume around her, shaking her hair to let the perfume rain on it; she redid her bun. Then she re-pinned the magnificent bird clip Ethan had given her above her heart.

A party of four men and two women had gathered in the reception room. The sound of French was a treat to Sophia’s ears. She loved the language.

Ethan welcomed her by putting an arm on her shoulders and made the introductions in French. “These are my friends, Sophia. François Lefebvre, his wife, Aimée, and his younger twin brothers, Guy and Giles. And,” he motioned to a couple on her left, “Annaïs Fitzroy and her husband, Alain Lambert.”

“Bon soir. Comment allez vous?” she greeted them, grinning.

One of the handsome blond twins, Guy, said to her, with intimacy, “Tu parles a parfait français, Sophie.”

Sophia’s eyes widened slightly. He had used the second person tu to congratulate her on her perfect French, implying a familiarity that didn’t escape Ethan. His arm tightened around her shoulders, his other hand cupping her jaw to turn her face in his direction.

Ethan answered for her, in his perfect French, “Yes. Sophia,” he stressed her name, “speaks French fluently. In fact, she speaks six languages perfectly.” And she is mine. He kissed her lightly on the lips, bringing her closer, stating his hold on her.

His behavior and possessiveness irritated Sophia, but she let it go.

“Lucky you, mon ami,” François interceded smoothly and glowered discreetly at Guy. He was aware of Ethan’s jealousy and Guy’s flirting ways from long ago. No need to have a problem tonight. “So, I heard that you’re also a spectacular lawyer in the oil field, Ms. Santo.”

Sophia grinned at him. “Please, Monsieur Lefebvre, call me Sophia.” She looked at Ethan; he imperceptibly blinked his approval, smiling.

“Un moment, mon ami.” Ethan unfolded his long body from the sofa where he had been talking with François and stalked up to Guy and scowled at him, letting him know that he didn’t like the way he looked at Sophia and held her hand.

Ethan snaked an arm around Sophia’s waist, bringing her back close to his body. She jumped. So engrossed in the conversation, Sophia hadn’t noticed him approaching.

“Ethan, you startled me.” She turned in his direction, with a smile on her face.

“Seems that you and Guy are getting along very well.”

“Sophia is a very intelligent and beautiful woman.” Guy smirked at him. “I could spend the whole evening with her. I’m sure time would fly.”

“Indeed.” Ethan’s blood boiled. “Sophia? Come with me for a second.” He didn’t wait for her answer and tugged her behind him to the guest room.

As soon as the door closed, he said in a low, harsh voice, “What do you think you’re doing, Sophia? I thought you were a well-bred and decent woman.”

“You thought…” she exhaled, aghast. “What am I then?”

“You looked like a mare in heat-” he interrupted himself, grabbed her arms, and shook her violently. Her hair tumbled free and the long earrings swung back and forth. “You’ve flirted with Guy all night long. You let him drool all over you and even hold your hand,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“I flirted with Guy?” Sophia’s voice expressed her shock. She put her hands on his chest, pushing him back. “I think you’ve said enough, Ethan. You’re creating a storm in a teacup. He was admiring the magnificent ring you gave me. I wasn’t flirting with him. He is a nice, young man. That’s it, nothing more.”

“Young?” He felt slapped. Yes, Guy’s only three years older than she is. “Do you want a younger man?”

“Ethan, I don’t want anything. There is no need for jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous.” His eyes were blazing with fury. “I cannot approve of such behavior in my own house from my lover.” His fingers dug into her flesh.

“Ethan, please let go. You’re hurting me.”

He released her arms, but stayed where he was, glowering at her, enraged.

She massaged her scarred left upper arm. Oh, damn! His lover? I’m his lover? “Everyone out there must wonder what’s happening in here,” she sighed. There is no reasoning with jealousy.

She pinned her hair back, adjusted the clip on her dress, and held out her hand to him, beseeching him to take it. “Please, my dear, come with me.”

They went back out, holding hands.

François gave Sophia a knowing look and soon after the couple’s return, he rose with his wife, saying their farewells.

Sophia climbed down the staircase from Ethan’s rooms with her clutch in hand. “I think I’d better go too, Ethan.”

“Aren’t you staying the night?” He watched her as she approached. I’ve crossed the line.

“No, it’s late.” She gave a light peek on his cheek. “Tomorrow, I have a lot of work to do.”

“Look, Sophia, I’m sorry. You’re too beautiful, Guy was making advances, and you weren’t repelling him. You were right; I was jealous. Please, stay.”

“I understood your point of view, Ethan.” Sophia gave a little smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. “My behavior as your… lover, was unacceptable,” she strolled out to the lift, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I should go, I’m really tired. Good-bye.” She closed the door softly behind her, giving him no time to answer.

He stood there rooted to the floor. Why do I feel like she just left me? Curse it. This time I’ve really messed things up. She looked hurt. Despair lodged in his chest. I can’t lose Sophia.

He picked up his BlackBerry and speed dialed a number. He tapped his foot impatiently waiting for Leonard Allenthorp to answer his call. “Allenthorp, good evening. It’s Ashford. Sorry to be calling at this hour, but it’s almost an emergency.” He sounded incoherent.

“Good evening, Ashford. Almost an emergency? What is almost an emergency?” Leonard chortled.

“I think I just busted things with Sophia,” he blurted.

“Oh.” Leonard sounded surprised. “How?”

“Err, it’s kind of private, but let’s just say that I need I favor from you.”

“Name it.”

“Alice’s planning a small get together at the weekend at Galewick Hall, isn’t she? Could she invite us? Could she call Sophia for me? That way Sophia won’t refuse the invitation.”

“Ashford, what happened? What have you done?”

“I think she’s mad at me. I said something I shouldn’t have.”

“Call her tomorrow. Apologize. Send flowers, chocolates. Everyone can say a wrong word one time or another.”

Essex, Saffron Walden. Galewick Hall.

Friday, February 12th, 2010.

5 p.m.

Ethan alighted from his Porsche as soon as they arrived at the front door, taking their luggage but leaving her to deal with a sleeping Gabriela in the backseat. “I’ll wait for you inside.”

The trip from London had been a silent one with Ethan unhappy Sophia had brought Gabriela along.

“Okay,” Sophia said in a small breath and shrugged. What can I do?

Since she started sleeping at Ethan’s, she’d hardly spent time with Gabriela at the weekends.

He demands too much of me. He has to understand that Gabriela is my priority. I’m going to talk with him. She stepped out of the car, admiring the grandeur of the place. The opulence of Galewick Hall, a huge towering eighteenth century house built in the Palladian style, diminished the home’s severity. The main building was four stories. Extensive gardens and forests beckoned walks and horse rides.

Right now, the whole weekend seemed a disastrous idea. Although already there, Sophia considered turning back but knew it would offend Leonard and his wife, who had done nothing to deserve it. She looked forward to meeting Leonard’s wife. In the last few months, Sophia had developed a steady friendship with Leonard. She grinned, remembering their business meeting just a few days before. He’s a gentleman. He surely knows how to lose gracefully.

“Come on, my dear, we’ve arrived.”

Gabriela opened her sky-blue eyes, so much like Gabriel’s. Sophia would never tire of looking at them. If they were the last thing I see in my life, I would die happily.

She fingered Gabriela’s long blonde locks, brushing them, got her out of the car and ran a hand to smooth the wrinkles out of her daughter’s turquoise dress. She surveyed herself and was pleased with what she saw. She wore a light pink Alberta Ferreti sweater embroidered with tiny flowers and leaves on the V-neck-it molded to her body, emphasizing her cleavage and small waist-and a light gray Chloé chamois jacket and shorts, opaque gray stockings, and black riding-style boots. She accented her outfit with Harry Winston diamond stud earrings, ring, and tennis bracelet, which Ethan had given her as an apology for his rude words.

Hasn’t he understood that jewelry can’t buy my affections? Sophia shook her head at herself. I shouldn’t have accepted any jewelry. I don’t need them. This is not what I’m looking for.

She was dressed as she liked. Discrete, but with some color and a daring touch. She would make quite an impression, she was certain. So, why am I so nervous? Ethan was so rude leaving me at the door.

“Angel, don’t dawdle, we really have to go.” She picked Gabriela up in her arms and stepped into the gargantuan marbled hall, a grand staircase at the back.

An employee came toward her. Stiff-backed, liveried in gray and white, as if to match his hair. He had a thin frame and stoic face. “Good afternoon, miss. I’m Chambers. May I help you?”

“Ah, well, yes. I came with Mr. Ashford.”

“Oh, yes, Mademoiselle Santo, I’m sure. You’re in the blue room. First floor, to your left, third door on your right and your daughter, Miss Gabriela, is with the children, in the yellow room, also on first floor, to the right, second door, on your left.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chambers.”

“Oh, no, please, just Chambers, ma’am. If you would please follow me, the party is gathered in the library.”

Sophia had an urgent and incoherent need to laugh. Oh, is this for real? First door, to the left or to the right? I can’t remember it anymore. I will lose myself in this maze. I will definitely need the help of ‘Just Chambers’. She laughed inwardly. Oh, and, the funny way he talks and walks? I thought butlers like him were extinct.

Sophia entered the library with Gabriela in her arms. Her daughter clutched her neck and hid behind her hair.

Leonard’s embrace immediately engulfed Sophia. She chuckled and gave him a one-arm hug.

“How are you, my friend? Have you been preparing yourself for a second round?”

‘Yes, sure, and beware, because next time I’m going to win,” he assured her with a teasing grin. “Leibowitz Oil won’t get away with ensuring this weird clause you devised.”

“We shall see.” She wiggled her brows.

“So, you’re the woman that has been keeping my husband from my bed!” A feminine voice complained.

Sophia looked around Leonard’s shoulder to see an astonishing woman, very tall, around six feet, with fierce red hair, astonishing forest-green eyes, and a heart-shaped mouth. Tiny light freckles sprinkled across her pale cream skin.

“Sophia, let me introduce you to my wife, Alice. Alice, the infamous Sophia.”

“Hey, not infamous. Famous, I’ll allow.” Turning to Alice, she said, “How do you do, Alice? Leonard talks about you a lot. This is my daughter, Gabriela.”

“Nice to meet you, Sophia.” She grinned and kissed Sophia and, even though Gabriela tried to hide in the hollow of her mother’s neck, Alice stroked the girl’s hair. “Leo has also told me a lot about you.”

Sophia gave Leonard a piercing look.

“Nothing you wouldn’t have told yourself,” he chuckled. “Come, since your boyfriend already sat down, let me-”

“I’m not anyone’s boyfriend, Allenthorp, much less hers,” Ethan put forth harshly.

With that loud statement, the room fell into a hushed silence.

Sophia turned to look at him and even small Gabriela pushed from her hiding place, her eyes blazing, prepared to defend her mother.

Sophia cocked her head to the side waiting for an explanation while Leonard stood there, as if struck by lightning.

Perceiving that his statement had been badly received, Ethan amended. “Boyfriend is for teenagers. We have a relationship.”

“Indeed,” was the only answer Sophia could think of, despite the fact that she thought her sarcasm was lost on Ethan’s arrogance and bad mood.

Breathing deep, she smiled to Leonard, “So, Dr. Walter I already know. The others you’ll have to introduce.” She smiled at her gentle gynecologist. “How are you? It’s a pleasant surprise to meet you here. Gabriela, this is Dr. Walter. Give him a kiss.”

“A doctor?” Gabriela buried her head again in Sophia’s neck. “I don’t like doctors. They have needles hidden behind their backs.”

“Smart girl, aren’t you?” John Walter chuckled and showed Gabriela his hands. “See, no needles.”

Gabriela looked at him from her hiding place, said a small “Hello” and hid again.

John had thinning blond hair and blue eyes. He had a quietness that had always relaxed Sophia. “Nice to see you, Sophia.” He shook her hand, “Please, dear, call me John. Leave the doctor at the office.” He made a gesture to the woman at his side, “This is my wife, Claire.”

His introduced his wife, a five foot three, beautiful French brunette, dressed impeccably with perfectly manicured nails and Chanel-style hair. Mademoiselle Coco would approve.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sophia. That’s a lovely outfit.” She had a strong French accent.

“Thank you, Claire,” Sophia answered in French. “I love French couture.”

“Sophia, this is my mother, Elena. You two have a lot in common.” Next to Claire sat Leonard’s mother. Sixty-seven years old, she looked every inch the dowager duchess. Because of the gentle way Leonard spoke of his mother, Sophia had thought she would find a frail woman. Elena was anything but delicate or small. Instead, here sat a strong willed, five-foot-seven woman who still showed traces of the beauty from her youth. She had dark brown hair, almost black eyes, and olive skin like most Spanish women. She wore a skirt suit in a daring, yet suitable, combination of white, red, and black. Her English still had a charming Spanish accent and she had a informal way of making you feel at home.

“How do you do?” Elena kissed Sophia on the cheeks, very informally, “I was looking forward to meeting you, Sophia. Leonard told me a lot about your work with women and children. I was hoping to persuade you to give a lecture at the institution over which I preside.”

“I would be delighted, Elena. Let’s talk about it and you can explain to me exactly what you want. I really love this work.”

Leonard pointed to a man seated next to Ethan. “That rascal there is my brother, Alexander. Alex meet Sophia Santo, the witch.” Leonard’s younger brother resembled his mother very much. He wore loose gray jeans and a white knitted sweater that complemented his olive skin nicely. His brown-black eyes sparkled with mischief and he had a devil-may-care way of carrying himself that must drive women crazy.

Alexander waved and a handsome, knowledgeable smile slashed his face, showing white teeth, “Sophia Santo?” He lifted his brows high. “Mmm. I’m not afraid of witches, Brother,” he retorted from his place, the strange look in his eyes nagging Sophia. He nodded at her, again.

“Yo no creo en las brujas, ¡pero que las hay, las hay! Brother. I assure you, Sophia is one of them.”

“Stop, Leonard. I’m no witch.” Sophia punched him lightly on the arm, grinning. “I prefer the idea of fairy godmother.”

“I have never seen such a young fairy godmother. No wrinkles, no white hair.” Leonard grinned back.

Sophia patted her nose and then her chin, frowning. “Well, I don’t have warts and I hate brooms,” she replied quickly, “so you’ll have to revise your image of witches.”

Gabriela giggled, her breath tickling Sophia’s throat. Leonard, motioning to a couple, said, “Now, my little sister, Domitila, and Andrew,” he turned to Sophia and murmured in her ear, “her boyfriend.”

Sophia giggled, amused.

Domitila was glamorous and certainly a mixture of her parents’ DNA. She carried herself proudly, like her mother, although not as tall or as slender as Elena. Domitila had the same long dark brown hair that fell past her shoulders in soft waves. Her blue eyes, so much like Leonard’s, where shadowed by long thick lashes that made a stark contrast against her fair skin. She wore an ankle-length red wool dress, with a big black belt at her hips. Her boyfriend, Andrew, had a sharp sense of humor, a teasing smile, and a keen mind. He was an average-size man with a shaved head, probably to disguise his balding.

“I’m not little anymore, Sophia, just younger. Leo says it to taunt me.”

“You will always be the little sister, Domi,” Alexander retorted.

“Brothers are infuriating, aren’t they?”

Sophia laughed, remembering the kind way Felipe has always treated her.

“Want to exchange brothers?” Andrew asked Sophia, making a face at Alexander and Leonard. And Domitila finished the thought, “These two suck.”

“Careful! I wouldn’t mind having Sophia as my sister, Domi. And it would be quite easy. You’re the same age and look alike. Of course, it is quite noticeable that Sophia uses her brain.”

“Stop, Leonard! What is your sister going to think?”

“That you’re crazy to like this pain in the ass, Sophia,” Andrew explained.

She smiled at the banter. Leonard put his hands on her shoulders and whirled her to the end of the two-story library.

In a darker corner, sat a tall, large man looking directly at her.

“And that one sulking in the dark is Alice’s brother, Alistair MacCraig. Alistair, meet my nemesis, Sophia.”

No! Alistair MacCraig? Alistair Connor MacCraig is Leonard’s brother-in-law? Please let this be a coincidence and there is another Alistair MacCraig. She squinted.

His frame occupied the big, gilded armchair he sat in, his long legs stretched in front of him, crossed at his ankles. He stood with a feline grace, incongruous to his size.

Oh, my. It’s him! She forgot how to breathe. Again. This man does things to me.

She remembered well those broad, strong shoulders and that vast chest. His intense green eyes on his rugged face. Silky, long hair her fingers itched to touch.

Sophia stood in the middle of the room fascinated by the sheer sexual power he exuded. It seemed she turned into an idiot when it came to him. The scene was repeating itself. Her thoughts spun wildly in her head. Suddenly, a fear gripped Sophia. Is this destiny?

Leonard watched her intently and when she gazed up at him, he jutted his chin in his brother-in-law’s direction, his hands leaving her.

She stared back at the man, not quite certain of what to do, when she noticed him brushing aside a lock of that midnight-black hair that had fallen over his eyes in an absentminded way that had so enchanted her. That did it. An unconditionally delighted grin spread slowly over her face and she let her feet lead her to him.

She tilted her head back when she reached him and his emerald eyes burned into her soul.

He dipped his head and his hair fell again in his eyes. “Sophia,” his deep voice low, intimate, her name a caress on his lips, “thus we meet again.” Despite your refusal to answer my numerous calls and flowers and cards, I still fucking desire you.

So it seems. But she could not find her voice to say a word. Her heart was beating so fast that she could feel her blood coursing through her veins. Damn. This is becoming an annoyance.

His grin grew, as if he knew her heart had quickened.

“I believe in witches, Sophia,” his deep voice hypnotized her.

Gabriela moved from her hiding place, shaking Sophia from her spellbound state. “I hope you don’t burn me at the stake,” Sophia murmured to him.

“I don’t burn witches. I set them on fire,” Alistair whispered so low Sophia thought she had heard wrong.

Gabriela raised her head to study him, unsure if she should defend her mother or not.

Alistair looked at the child’s face and, startled, his heart stopped in his chest. Christ! “Your daughter?” he breathed and his hand trailed an inevitable road to the girl’s hair.

Sophia nodded.

“May I pick her up?”

“She doesn’t-”

As if bewitched by the same spell he had cast over the mother, the timid and reserved daughter extended her chubby arms to him, with an open smile on her face. Alistair’s face, simultaneously shimmering with many different emotions, captivated Sophia. He watched the little girl for a few seconds mesmerized, before he sat down again with Gabriela on his lap.

Sophia kneeled on one knee in front of his armchair. The room vanished from behind her and a cocoon enveloped the three of them. Gabriela seemed as enraptured by this handsome stranger as he was by her. She ran her small hands over his hair and fingered the jagged ends.

“Aren’t you charming? How old are you?”

Instead of answering his question, Gabriela countered with one of hers.

“Shouldn’t you cut your hair? It’s kinda weird. Only girls have long hair and…” She cocked her head to the side, studying him, “you’re not a girl, are you?”

“Gabriela!” Sophia tried to maintain a stern face but a giggle escaped.

He joined in and laughed, throwing his head back. A deep, rich laugh. The kind that made one want to laugh too. His green eyes twinkled with mirth and he winked at Sophia.

“No, I’m not a girl.” His smile was infectious. “So, you don’t like my hair, little one?”

“I didn’t say that. Your hair is, hmm, silky, just like my uncle Felipe’s.” Then she shook her head. “But it’s like a girl’s isn’t it, Mama?”

“Hey, don’t you drag me into this. You started it, you finish it.”

Her little fingers delved in the richness of his hair again, toying with it. Alistair felt such peace fill his soul that he wanted to close his eyes and revel in it. He took a deep breath, struggling with his feelings.

“So, you like fashion, Gabriela?”

“Yes, can’t you tell? You just have to look at my dress and shoes,” she said in a fancy way. “I picked them myself. But, I also like Mama’s style. She likes clothes too, and she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. Don’t you think?”

Sophia blushed slightly.

“Aye, I do.” His green eyes pierced Sophia’s hazel ones and he chuckled. “And you’re very beautiful, too.” He caressed Gabriela’s hair with a pensive air and sighed. A deep, profound sigh. “If you ask me nicely again and give me a kiss, I’ll cut my hair for you, little lady.”

Gabriela cocked her head slightly to one side, as if hearing something in his promise that only she could. She put a hand on his cheek. After a moment, she asked bluntly, “And why don’t you do this for your own kids?”

He paled and turned to stone, shutting his eyes as if in deep pain. Slowly, so very slowly, he opened his eyes, the green now almost black. He took a deep breath, as if steadying himself, his windpipe working convulsively.

“Because my daughter isn’t here anymore,” he answered, enfolding Gabriela’s small hand in his larger one.

“And where is she?”

Alistair looked at Sophia, as if he didn’t know what to say, asking for her help. She covered his hand with hers, squeezing it softly, trying to infuse into him the strength he needed.

“She’s- She’s in heaven,” he murmured.

Sophia gave a small, low gasp. He looked at her as if to apologize. The intense pain he felt prevented him from saying more, even if he had wanted to.

He felt a soft hand caressing his cheek and gently stroking his eyes, drying the tears he refused to recognize.

“Don’t cry. She wouldn’t like it. When I missed my father, I used to cry. Mama taught me when I cry, he is sad and will cry, too. I don’t want my daddy sad. I’m sure you don’t want your daughter sad, too.” Gabriela sat there, caressing his face, as if she knew him from eons ago. “What’s her name?”

In a barely audible whisper, Alistair answered. “Nathalie. Her name was Nathalie.”

“I’m going to ask my father to look for her and say that you’re not sad anymore, okay?”

Sophia put her other hand under Alistair’s, enveloping both his and her daughter’s. She stayed there, kneeled beside his long legs. She couldn’t move. An overpowering need to hug and comfort that confident and proud man and to help him mourn the loss of his child sprang from deep inside her. Sophia leaned in his direction, her hand running over his hand and his arm, resting on his shoulder. Her eyes bore into his and his head slanted a little in her direction.

She startled, as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder and gripped it, causing her pain. She winced.

A dry, unsympathetic voice ordered, “We’d better see to our room, darling.” Ethan stressed the word, as if he meant it as a curse. You said you were faithful, baby. Are you already scattering your charms in the wind?

Sophia rose, trembling a little. “God, you scared me,” she whispered.

“I could see you were engaged in a private talk with MacCraig,” Ethan hissed between clenched teeth, glaring at Alistair, Ethan’s azure eyes blistered with an undefined emotion. She is mine!

Alistair had the insane desire to smash his fist on Ethan’s nose and see it broken and bloodied. He frowned. What the fuck?

Since he discovered Heather’s betrayal, no woman had stirred his emotions as Sophia had. He had learned just to satisfy his own sexual needs and discard the women. You can’t trust women. Remember, Alistair Connor.

Sophia licked her lips, spinning back toward her daughter. “Let’s go, Gabriela.” They held hands and stepped away from Alistair.

“See you all later,” Sophia said to the room, then waved and departed.

Andrew, who sat next to Alistair, glanced at the couple exiting the room and the child walking shyly beside the mother. Tapping his fingers on the sofa arm, he frowned. “A word of advice, Alistair. Ashford is a jealous man and quite possessive of his things. He doesn’t like to share or to lose.”

“Things?” Alistair let the word roll on his tongue. “Do you consider her a thing? What is she? A slave? I thought slavery had been abolished centuries ago.”

“I didn’t mean that. I just want to give you some advice. Use it as you wish. For her sake, if not for yours,” Andrew insisted.

“I think he’s right, Brother.” Alice concurred, quietly arriving at his side.

Alistair rose and poured himself a large whisky. He swallowed it, feeling the burn in his throat, as rage seethed in him. “You’re all seeing things that don’t exist. Heather and Nathalie have only been dead a year. For Christ’s sake! I’ve met the woman before; she’s no novelty to me! I was just talking with her daughter.”

He swallowed the rest of the whisky, banged the glass on the table, and strolled out of the room, leaving an astonished audience to watch his exit.

Chapter 10

Saturday, February 13th, 2010.

10 a.m.

Alistair followed her every idiosyncratic movement as she walked through the pool area, in her Brazilian bikini and a white linen shirt that fell mid-thigh, but did little to conceal her body. The rise and fall of her breasts with each breath, the soft swing of her hair as her head moved, her nervous wetting of her lips with her tongue, the sway of her hips as she walked with her long legs and her soft round butt. All this drove him to distraction. I’m sure she has a Brazilian wax, too. Fuck. I have to control my thoughts.

He felt a prickle on his neck and, looking away from her, he caught Ethan watching him through narrowed eyes. Fuck! I don’t want any problems. He nodded and looked away. She had warned him; she was seeing someone else. She is Ethan’s. No point in staring, in desiring.

Alas, his eyes seemed glued to her. Who am I fooling? Alexander is ogling her, too. Even Andrew, who has eyes only for Domitila, is sneaking peeks at her.

And still she’s nervous. He could notice by the way she licked her lips and tapped her long nails on her hips. Why? Doesn’t she know she’s the most beautiful, sensual woman in the house? In England? Christ! In the whole of Britain? That she drives each and every man crazy with desire? That her bikini is the most sinful thing I ever saw in my whole life? It shows without really showing. Promises and temptations, making my blood boil in my veins, as if I’m in my own private hell. Or maybe that’s it. I’m atoning for my sins. God knows I have plenty. But, fuck! This is a good way to expiate one’s sins. Curse Ethan and his sense of ownership. Curse my scruples. Life is not fair. At least, Ethan doesn’t seem jealous of Gabriela.

Alistair crossed the pool lounge and sat next to Gabriela and the other children. Immediately, she smiled at him. Thanks Christ for children.

Ethan noticed the men’s lustful gazes toward Sophia. Why has she put on that bikini? She’s showing off! He narrowed his eyes, enraged.

Sophia gave Ethan a trembling smile that he didn’t reciprocate. Mustering courage, she shrugged off her shirt, let it drop on a nearby chair, and gracefully dove in the pool. She swam underwater until she reached Alice, Leonard, and Ethan and sat quietly on a pool step, draping some of her heavy wet hair over her scarred arm. Opening her arms, she called Alice and Leonard’s daughter, who had just arrived by her mother’s side. “Ariadne, come sit by me. I’ll make you a beautiful braid.”

The lovely and intelligent Ariadne immediately came to sit sideways on Sophia’s lap. Ariadne and Gabriela had developed a friendship from their first meeting. Sophia had always loved children and Ariadne enchanted her.

“Sophia, can I ask you something?” Ariadne asked as Sophia braided her long strawberry blonde hair.

“Of course, my dear.”

Running her hand over Sophia’s left shoulder to her jagged scars, brushing aside Sophia’s hair, Ariadne inquired, “What is this?”

A fierce stab shot through Sophia’s head. She hissed in pain and winced noticeably, closing her eyes, her fingers faltering on the braid.

“Ariadne!” Leonard chastised the girl, shocked.

Everyone went dead quiet and all eyes were riveted on them.

Sophia paled and looked around. She knew. Deep inside, she knew. I can flee to Siberia, but the nightmare will stay with me forever, no matter what I do, no matter how much I try to hide. There’s no escape.

“Ariadne, we don-” Alice began.

Sophia raised her hand, placating the anxious mother. “It’s okay, Alice. She’s just curious.” Turning to the girl, she answered, “It’s an old scar.”

“And how did you get it?”

Sophia heard Alice’s breath falter but she kept her eyes on the child’s green ones.

How? I don’t remember. “Some bad men shot me about two years ago.” And they killed my husband, destroying my life, despoiling me of my dreams.

“Why?”

Why? I don’t know. Sophia’s head pounded so much she thought it would explode. “Why?” She smiled sadly at the girl, finishing the girl’s braid. How could anyone explain this? “Ariadne, they were evil men and they didn’t know good from bad.”

From the corner of her eyes, Sophia saw Alice and Leonard shifted uncomfortably.

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes, a bit.” Oh, it hurts a lot. Every day I wake up alone. Every night I go to bed on my own. It hurts every single minute of my goddamned life. Only I know how much. Nevertheless, she couldn’t tell this to a child. She noticed that Ethan observed her with a creepy expression.

Ariadne gazed at her, gently. “You know, everyone has a mark, maybe this is yours.”

Sophia shivered at this. “It’s an ugly mark.” She tried to locate Gabriela but couldn’t spot her from where she was.

“Ugly?” Ethan laughed darkly at her. “It’s a hideous scar. It disfigures you.” Yeah, baby, let’s show these guys that you’re not so hot, perfect, and gorgeous.

Sophia gasped aloud. “What has gotten into you, Ethan?”

“Does the truth upset you, darling?”

“Better scarred on the outside than on the inside,” she fired back, through clenched teeth.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked in a menacing voice.

She didn’t answer.

She placed a kiss on Ariadne’s cheek and got out of the pool, with as much composure as she could muster. She grabbed her shirt, yanked it through her arms, and looked for her daughter. Gabriela detested when people talked about Sophia’s scars. The little girl, in Alistair’s arms, watched the scene wide-eyed and sucked her thumb. Alistair’s face had turned thunderously dark as he listened to Sophia and Ethan’s argument.

Oh, damn! She went in their direction, her eyes glazed by the pain in her head, the bitter memories, and Ethan’s words.

Without thinking, Alistair transferred the child to Sophia’s extended arms and cradled them both in his embrace. She put her head on his shoulder, violently trembling.

“Easy, easy,” he soothed. “Calm down.”

Neither of them noticed when Ethan got out of the pool, on her trail. “Take your hands off her.”

Alexander came into Ethan’s path. “There, Ashford. Haven’t you done enough damage for today?”

“Sophia, I think you could use a drink,” Leonard intervened, flinging Alistair a towel to envelop her.

Elena rose from her place, an appalled look on her face.

Sophia and Gabriela left the pool lounge, in Alistair’s embrace, with Elena leading the way and Leonard at the rear, leaving an enraged Ethan behind.

1.53 p.m.

Although the food was delicious, the lunch was a tense affair for Sophia. She hardly ate, pushing the food around on her plate. Even the wine tasted like acid, but, fortunately, Ethan had once again calmed down, as if nothing had happened. Gabriela had her lunch with Alice’s children and their friends. Ariadne and Gabriela were now playing outside and squealing with delight.

Coffee and liqueur were served in the square Blue Drawing Room, which faced the gardens.

Sophia sat between Ethan. Claire and John sat at the other end of the long sofa, in front of a huge fireplace. Next to John sat Alexander. Leonard and Alice were seated in the two armchairs. Elena joined Michael, Alice and Leonard’s son in the TV room.

Sophia gradually relaxed, Ethan’s arm on her shoulders, his hand caressing her arm, no longer bothered by the scar he said he found so hideous.

Gabriela and Ariadne entered the room through the garden doors, each one running to their mom. Behind them, came Alistair, Andrew, and Domitila, with satisfied smiles on their faces.

“Look, Mama, what beautiful flowers I picked for you in the greenhouse.” Gabriela showed a bunch of daisies to Sophia.

“I can make a crown for you with them.” She smiled tenderly at Gabriela. “You’ll be the Fairy Queen. What do you think?”

“All those fairy tales are bullshit.” Ethan said in a severe voice and turned to Sophia. “Don’t encourage such nonsense. The girl has had enough of them already.”

Gabriela stopped dead in her tracks. Blinking, she looked at Ethan, at Sophia, at the flowers, and started to back away.

Immediately, Alistair picked her up in his arms, exclaiming, “Surely you are the most adorable Fairy Queen I’ve ever seen.” Fuck you, Ashford. This is no way to treat a child.

Gabriela put her free hand on Alistair’s cheek, “You’re beautiful, you know?”

Alistair chuckled, “Beautiful is for delightful girls like you. Men are handsome-”

“No,” she interrupted, firmly. “You’re like my Uncle Felipe, beautiful. Because you’re handsome, funny, and kind,” she reaffirmed, in an unyielding and clear voice. “Ethan is handsome but he’s mean.”

You little piece-. In a blur of a movement, Ethan jumped from the sofa, heading in Gabriela and Alistair’s direction like an enraged bull set loose.

Alistair put an arm protecting Gabriela’s little body and stepped back.

“You insolent--”

Oh, my God! Sophia got up as quickly as Ethan, grabbing him by the back of his sweater. “Stop! Stop right there, right now. You can insult me. But never, ever, think of saying a thing about my daughter. She’s a child.”

He spun in her direction. “And you’re my lover. She has to respect me.”

Uh? “Hah! Respect. You don’t know the meaning of the word,” Sophia glowered at him.

A small voice broke into their argument. “Mama, what is a lover?”

Alistair glanced at Sophia and answered Gabriela, “A lover is someone that loves.”

“But my mother doesn’t love him,” she insisted. “She loved my father.”

Sophia’s heart shattered in a thousand pieces and she sighed profoundly. Gabriela doesn’t deserve this. She’s already been through so much. She glared at Ethan, her eyes flashing, daring him to make a move and move toward her daughter.

Picking Gabriela up in her arms, she spoke softly, “Come with me, my angel. I’ll explain it to you.” She looked Alistair in the eye and bowed her head slightly in thanks, and strolled to the gardens with Gabriela perched on her hips.

Alistair’s control was hanging by a thread. He looked away from Ethan and left the room, shaking his head. I need a distraction. Something to take Sophia off my mind.

Sophia had had enough. Ethan’s jealous of his own shadow. I won’t forgive him this time. She left Gabriela in the TV room with Elena and the rest of the children. She climbed the stairs to her room praying she could avoid Ethan. She had a bad headache.

Her iPhone vibrated. Oh, damn. An urgent message from Edward. As if things couldn’t get any worse. She called him back.

“Hello, Edward.” She paused and blanched. “Oh, God. I’m in Essex but I’ll return now. Don’t worry. Call everyone and set a meeting.” She entered her room and started packing in a hurry. “As soon as I’m in a taxi, I’ll call you back.” She smiled as she closed her carry-on. “Thanks, Edward. You’re the best.”

Sophia entered the library where everyone had gathered, her overcoat on her shoulders. With Gabriela holding her hand, she approached Leonard and Alice.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go back to London. There’s an emergency. You understand, I’m sure. Clients come first.”

“Of course, my dear.” Leonard and Alice rose from their seats.

“Promise me you’ll come back soon, Sophia. Ariadne and Gabriela are the best of friends now.” Alice smiled. “She’ll be disappointed.”

“I promise, Alice. Thank you for your hospitality.” She smiled back. “Next time your husband says I’m the one keeping him out of your bed, don’t believe it. He’s too good of a lawyer to be disturbed by my beginner’s tactics.”

“Beginner’s tactics?” Leonard laughed. “I want to avoid you when you become experienced then.”

“Gabriela, love, why don’t you go kiss everyone good-bye and wait for me in the hall while I say my farewells?” She pressed her lips tightly and waited for Gabriela to exit the room.

She felt Alistair’s green gaze searching her face as he lightly put a hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheeks. “It was a pleasure seeing you again,” he murmured.

She returned the smile with ease. “Likewise,” she breathed.

Ethan stood by the mantel, transfixed, watching the love of his life slip through his fingers. No! I won’t allow it.

She approached him, a tight smile on her lips. “Why don’t you call me on Tuesday? I’m working straight through until then.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips, a hand on his chest.

He whispered, his breath fanning across her cheek. “Make a polite excuse and I’ll forget your fit of rage.” His azure eyes were blistering.

“I didn’t lie. I really must return to London,” she answered in the same way.

“Don’t you dare walk through that door,” he pretended to kiss her and gripped her arm to keep her next to him.

“I really have to go,” she excused herself, kissing him lightly on the cheek, trying to disengage her arm.

“Don’t. You’ll regret it,” he said in a murmur.

“Will I?” she smiled darkly at him. “Watch me.” Tapping two fingers at the side of her forehead in a salute, she turned.

He closed his fingers vigorously and yanked her to him.

She lost her balance and shoved at his chest.

He released her.

Sophia fell sideways and hit her head on the marble mantel with a loud crack.

Blood cascaded down her face as a gash opened over her eyebrow and her vision went black.

She fell backward, but someone stopped her fall.

Strong arms and a firm chest provided her with a safe haven before she plunged into a complete darkness, without uttering a sound.

All hell broke loose in the room.

Alistair, who had run to catch Sophia, now maneuvered her in his arms and placed her down on the sofa, sitting down by her waist. Anger surged hotly through him. He wanted to kill Ethan.

With my bare hands.

John jumped from his place, kneeling by Sophia’s head. “Ice, please, Alice. And clean cloths.” He pulled out his handkerchief and put it on the gash on Sophia’s brow, to stop the flow of blood.

“Jesus! How could this happen?” Ethan immediately moved to Sophia’s side and attempted to shoo away Alistair. What have I done?

“I’ve got her, Ashford,” Alistair stated his claim but Ethan hovered nearby. He drew in several steadying breaths, trying to calm the adrenaline that buzzed through his veins. It’s not the time to punch Ashford, Alistair Connor. Focus on Sophia.

“Someone has to see to Gabriela,” Leonard said, looking around for his sister. “Domitila, find her and leave her with Mother and the children. Don’t forget to pay and dismiss the taxi.”

Alice came rushing back into the room. “Here, John. Is she still out?”

“Yes.” John assessed the wound. “She will need stitches. Quite a few.” He gave Leonard a worried look.

“Can you perform them?” Alice’s face twisted with concern. “We have a complete first-aid kit here.”

“I’ll need the kit.” John changed his soaked handkerchief for a thin cloth and put some ice on the towel Alice gave him, gently pressing it over Sophia’s face to soothe the swelling on her forehead and cheek. “Honestly, I would prefer a plastic surgeon does it. She’s too beautiful to have a scar on her face. Also, it is advisable to get an X-ray and an MRI done. She hit the mantel hard and has been out for too long. We have to take her to a hospital.”

“No,” came a faint sound from the woman lying down on the sofa. “No hospital.”

“You need stitches, Sophia.” As always, John looked calm and collected, but deep inside his eyes shimmered an anger Sophia had never seen before.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” Ethan threw himself over John. He braced his left arm on the back of the sofa and caressed her cheek with his right hand. “I’ll take her to the hospital straight away, Walter. Which one do you recommend?”

“No. I hate hospitals.” She tried to open her eyes, but the towel was blocking them. “I’ve had worse. John can patch up me here, can’t you, John?” She grimaced in pain. “Make room, Ethan. You’re crowding me.”

“Please, Walter, could you call a plastic surgeon?” Ethan said. “The best one.”

“Of course. I’ll call Dr. St. Michael. If he’s not available, there’s Dr. Longman.”

Alistair didn’t budge from his place on the sofa; his big hands resting protectively on Sophia’s hips, the wide expanse of his chest looming over her, as if a bodyguard protecting her. He observed the whole scene with keen interest.

“Gabriela?” she asked, worried.

“Don’t you worry, she’s with Elena, Domitila, and the other children. Do you want me to check on her?” His deep voice soothed her. Unable to stand it a moment longer, Alistair put a hand over hers, clutching it.

She brushed the towel aside and looked at him, bewilderment in her honey eyes. “No, thank you,” she murmured. “They’ll distract her. She didn’t want to go back anyway.”

John looked at Ethan. “Ethan, can you please hold this for me? Apply pressure.” He rose from his kneeling position on the floor. “I’ll see if one of my colleagues can attend to you at the nearest hospital, Sophia.”

“I’ll take her anywhere he deems fit, Walter.”

No hospital. No hospital. My mind can’t cope with hospitals. “No.” Her hand gripped Alistair’s and squeezed it nervously. “I’m not going to any hospital.” She took the towel from Ethan’s hand. “John can do it.” She looked at John, her eyes begging.

“I don’t have my instruments here and, seriously, Sophia, I’d prefer if you did this with a plastic surgeon, in a hospital; then you can have the necessary tests.”

“Leave this to me, Walter. Please, call the doctor. And I’ll take her to the hospital. It doesn’t matter the cost.” To Sophia, he ordered, “Don’t behave like a child, Sophia. Here, let me hold this.” He took the towel from her hand and pressed it on her forehead. “Walter is a great doctor, but this is not his specialty. I don’t want you to have another scar. The sickening one your husband gave you is more than enough.”

What? Sophia was astonished by a heartbeat before her anger boiled and spilled.

“You bastard! How dare you?” Sophia pushed up to a sitting position and swatted Ethan’s hand away with force, flinging the towel far across the room, scattering ice on the rug. She swayed as dizziness came over her, but held strong. Her eyes flared and she said in an ominous voice, “Back off, Ethan. Back. Off. Don’t you ever mention my husband again! I’m fed up. It’s over.” She added in a low voice, “I don’t need you to pay for anything. Understood?” She turned to John, blood flowing over her eye and on the side of her face. “Call the best plastic surgeon that can come here. I,” she stressed the word, “will pay for his services. I don’t care what it costs.”

Alistair was impressed with the evident defiance and strength in someone so much smaller than Ethan. Not a submissive, is she? She’s clearly not afraid of Ashford. All this to defend a dead man. If only Heather had shown half the same loyalty and love for me.

John pressed a hand to her shoulder, laying her down again. He picked up another towel and pressed it on the gash, while he cleaned the blood with another. “Stay down. Ethan, make room.” He looked up at Alistair. “Help me here, hold this, and if she moves, hold her down, too.”

Ethan paced away from the sofa, unsteady and dizzy. He poured himself a whisky and downed it in a gulp. Jesus! JESUS! Sophia just broke up with me.

Alistair leaned over her and pushed her hair away, in a caress, pressing down the towel again. “Stay still,” he commanded, the order softened by his murmur.

“Yes,” she mumbled and closed her eyes.

Ethan poured himself another drink and rolled it around in the glass, “Oh, come on, Sophia, darling. Let me pay for it. These kinds of services aren’t covered by health insurance-”

“Shut the fuck up, Ashford! She’s Gabriel Leibowitz’s widow.” Alexander’s statement set in and a silence descended on the room, except for the low murmur of John’s voice as he spoke on the phone.

Sophia’s face blanched, her entire body turned cold, and her eyes flew open. “Oh, no!” she moaned. She looked up to regard Alistair’s face. He was stunned. She begged forgiveness with her eyes before moving her stare to Alexander.

“You know me?” she asked in a whisper. Oh, God, what am I going to say now? Why didn’t I heed Edward’s advice?

“Yes. I recognized you when you stepped into the library, yesterday.” Alexander confirmed. “I work in the same field as your late husband. Or should I say, yours. Gabriel’s death was a tragedy reported worldwide. And you’re hard to forget, Sophia.”

“Should I take this as an insult or a compliment?” She tried to lighten the mood.

“You remember the ball Leibowitz Oil gave? Four years ago, I think. I was working at one of your competitors back then, United Petroleum.” He raked his fingers through his dark brown hair. “Half the men in the ballroom were in love with you the minute you walked in on Gabriel’s arm.” He grinned at her. “The other half, I suppose, was gay.”

Sophia started to laugh, but just as she dropped her head back on the pillow, a pained gasp escaped her throat.

“If you don’t behave, I will take you to a hospital now,” John admonished. “Change the towels and keep pressure, Alistair. Dr. Longman is on his way. I expect him here in about thirty minutes, forty-five minutes tops. Do you want some painkillers?”

“Please.”

“I’ll ask Elena for some. Alice, if you could draw the curtains a little bit, it will help. There’s too much light in here.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us who your husband was? Who you really are?” Leonard asked, a hurt look on his face. “Why did you lie? I thought you considered me your friend.”

Sophia bit her lip. Oh, damn. They deserve some explanations.

Alice sat by Sophia’s head and raised an eyebrow at her brother, looking pointedly at his hand, which still gripped Sophia’s.

What? Alistair sustained the look and entwined their fingers, in an explicit demonstration of his stubborn will. Alice rolled her eyes heavenward.

Sophia emitted a long, audible breath when Alistair laced his fingers with hers and felt a tranquility spreading to her soul. Drawing courage and strength from him, she tried to explain it the best way she could.

“I am Sophia Santo. Sophia Gonçalves Espírito Santo. Or rather, I was before I married Gabriel and took his name. When he died I managed to get a court order to change all my documents back to my maiden name because- Oh, it’s a mess!” She sighed lengthily and closed her eyes. Never in her whole life had she felt so ashamed. “I have many reasons for all this. First of all, for safety. I was shot. Gabriel was kidnapped and murdered. The criminals knew all our schedules, Gabriela’s included. They had connections with a drug cartel. In Venezuela, Colombia, the States, and who knows where else. As soon as I was able to fly, I fled to protect my daughter. One of the reasons I chose England was because there was a major branch of Gabriel’s company here. From here, I could easily control the company’s profits, projects, and worldwide staff. Besides,” she opened her eyes and gazed around, making eye contact with everyone in the room, ending with Alistair’s wondrous green eyes. “I don’t need anyone liking me because I’m rich. There is more to me than just my damn money. Now, I only give my married name when it’s absolutely necessary. I don’t want anyone to find me and I don’t need to impress anyone.” She exhaled, searching Alistair’s face looming above her for a clue of his feelings. Poker-faced. Damn! How does he control his features like this? “I can only apologize and hope you understand. It was, and still is, a matter of survival.” She squeezed and let go of Alistair’s hand, feeling bereft at the loss of his warmth.

He scowled at her and gently enveloped her hand again in his broad one, without a word of explanation.

The room was silent again, each one of them immersed in their own thoughts.

Sophia searched for Alice. “Please, Alice, I need to make a phone call.”

“No way,” answered John, returning to the room with the painkillers and a glass of water, “Here, take these.”

She struggled to rise on an elbow but the room was spinning.

Immediately, Alistair took the pills from John, put a hand on her back to help her drink the water, and then lowered her again so gently that Sophia felt tears welling in her eyes. He stayed seated by her waist, not even making room for the doctor. “You stay right where you are,” he murmured to her, in his deep, low voice, the sound of it enveloping her in a cocoon of maleness.

“Please, I’m expected in London for an urgent meeting,” she informed. “I need to make a phone call.”

Alistair narrowed his eyes. “Is that true?”

She exhaled, “There’s been a explosion at one of the platforms in Rio.”

“Christ,” Alistair said and offered, “Do you want me to place the call for you?”

“Please. My iPhone is inside my bag. Look for Edward Davidoff’s mobile phone number.”

“I’ll do it for her. I know Davidoff,” interceded Alexander. “Ah, Sophia? Who should I say is calling?”

“Just Sophia.” She started to smile remembering “just Chambers,” but her face and head throbbed too much. She bit her lip to control the pain.

Alistair noticed the movement at once. Delicately, he squeezed her hand again, sharing his warmth and support.

“Davidoff? Alexander Allenthorp. Hold on a second. I’m passing you over to Sophia.” He handed her the cell phone.

She mouthed “Thanks.”

“Edward?” Closing her eyes, she continued, “Hello, again. I’m sorry but you will have to conduct the meeting alone. I’m not going to London. You see, I had, ah, an accident. I cut my forehead, badly.” She paused as she listened to him. “Yeah, unfortunately. A nasty cut.” She listened for a while, “I don’t know, just a sec.” Sophia looked at John. “Do you think I could work tomorrow?”

John stared at her, gravely. “I’m not a specialist but I wouldn’t recommend work for a few days. That looks like a serious injury. You will need to have some exams done before you can go back to work.”

“Edward, keep me informed.” She inhaled deeply. “If I’m feeling better I’ll return later today or tomorrow morning.” She relaxed as she heard his long response. “All right. Thank you, Edward, I don’t know what I would do without you,” she quietly finished the call.

“I’m impressed,” Ethan mocked, his light brown brows lifted high on his forehead. “You’re a tough girl, darling.” Stop, Ashford, you idiot. Stop. Why are you taunting the woman you love?

Sophia flicked her eyes open and she glowered at him. “I’m a survivor. I learnt it the worst way possible.”

His expression darkened and his body went stiff. He strolled out to the garden without a word. Damn you, Calista. Why do I have such a strong reaction where children are concerned? It’s all your fault. Now I’m going to lose the only woman that has loved me because I can’t deal with her child.

Sophia closed her eyes again, her body going lax with relief. I’ve never been so ashamed in my whole life. A room full of friends I’ve deceived. A spectacular scene of jealousy. And last but not least, my blood has ruined Alice’s sofa and Alistair’s white sweater.

“Alice,” Sophia slightly moved her head back to look at her. “I’m so sorry this happened. I couldn’t imagine Eth-” she trailed off. “I couldn’t imagine this accident would happen. I ruined your sofa and made a mess of your rug. Please, forgive me.”

“Sophia, there’s nothing to forgive. It was an accident, as you said,” Alice replied politely, not believing her own words.

Alistair snorted at his sister’s words.

Sophia turned her head carefully to look at him. His green eyes were blazing with fury and his mouth was set in a harsh line.

The garden door banged as Ethan returned to the room. “I need to talk to you, Sophia. Now!”

I should have seen Ethan’s reaction coming. Sophia berated herself. I deal with this almost on a daily basis on my foundation. He’s all the symptoms of a domestic abuser.

Now, Sophia, it’s time to do as you say. She looked at Alice and the men and asked, “May I have a minute alone with him?”

All of them turned to glare at her as if she had gone completely insane.

“I- I won’t get up from here, John. Ethan can hold the towel for me. I’m fine.” She glared at Ethan. “We’ll be fine,” she said, as if to reassure them and herself that she could deal with the situation.

Alistair stared at Sophia, shaking his head imperceptibly, trying to communicate that it was crazy being alone in a room with Ethan. Sophia pried his hand softly from the cloth, and squeezed it. “Please,” she murmured.

“No,” he mouthed.

“Please,” she asked again.

Fuck, Sophia. Why are you so stubborn? Let me protect you. Alistair hesitated. He didn’t want to leave her alone. His most intimate desire at that moment was to take her with him, cradled in his arms. To protect her from everything that could hurt her. “I’ll wait outside if you-”

“It will be okay. I can deal with him.”

He shifted on the sofa, still observing her, contemplating the acute need to whisk her away with him. But he couldn’t go against her wishes even if everything inside him screamed for him to do it.

“Sit here, Ethan.” She motioned to the place where Alistair sat.

Alistair got up from the sofa, a burning anger rolling in his stomach, making room for Ethan, letting the other man see the rage in his green eyes.

Sophia waited for Alistair to close the door, feeling the weight of his eyes on her. She let her eyes linger over Ethan’s face.

Oh, baby. “Sophia, I’m sorry. Please, reconsider your decision. I can’t let you go.”

“You don’t understand, do you, Ethan? It’s as I’ve said before, life is not war. Everything for you is veni, vidi, vici. You have to commit, to compromise, to love, to respect. I’m sorry, Ethan, but we can’t go on like this. You know that if we continue with this relationship we’re going to hurt each other.”

“Sophia…” His expression held so much pain that Sophia almost reconsidered.

No. He’ll hurt Gabriela. He’ll hurt me. Physically or emotionally. Stand your ground, Sophia, stand your ground. “I’m so sorry, Ethan. I want to remain your friend, though.”

“Impossible. I don’t want your friendship. I want more, and you know it. I love you, Sophia.” His azure eyes were so sad that they lost their light. “I can’t live without you.”

Sophia’s heart clenched.

Sophia, you know how these situations turn out. You’ve seen it so many times before with those women in Brazil. Don’t falter. “Come now, Ethan. You’re not a teenager. You’re a witty, intelligent man. Love isn’t like this. We have known each other for so little time.”

“It’s never been like this for me, Sophia. I’m sure of my feelings,” he whispered fervently. You’re the one for me.

She caressed his hand intimately resting on her waist. “This was an unfortunate accident but you know it was caused by jealousy. I can’t stand it anymore, Ethan. You can’t rely on your feelings to guide your behavior toward me. You’re jealous of my daughter. Of my dead husband.”

“You don’t know the effect you have on men, do you, Sophia? That you have on me? You’re an amazing woman.”

Sophia smiled a little. “Always trying to charm me, aren’t you, Ethan? You’re impossible. Let’s finish this in peace, as friends, before anything worse comes out of it.”

He shook his head, a dejected look in his eyes. “I thought we would stay together always; that it was you for me, Sophia. You’re special. Unique.” He sighed. “Won’t you reconsider? Please?”

“No. This is my final decision. I won’t change my mind, Ethan. Nonetheless, I do appreciate your company. We have friends in common. I can’t see why you and I can’t remain friends.”

“I’ll miss you.” He caressed her hair, an air of longing stamped on his face. I’m sorry I hurt you. So sorry. “Perhaps you’re right. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m going back to London now, so you’ll feel more comfortable. You stay. Leonard can give you a ride back or if you want I can send Wilkins to drive you back.” He bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I-” My heart is broken. “Sophia.” His hand caressed her cheek, his fingertips memorizing her perfect features. “I’ll call you. Please, answer when I do. Promise?”

“I promise,” she whispered.

“Oh, Sophia.” Her name was a prayer on his lips. “I love you,” he rasped.

“Please, Ethan. Don’t make things harder.”

“I bought you a gift for Valentine’s day. I’ll leave it on the bed.”

As she opened her mouth to refuse it, he put his fingers on her lips. “Don’t. Please accept it, as a parting gift.”

“Okay,” she answered quietly, her heart breaking at his grief-stricken look.

He opened his mouth to say something else but a knock on the door stopped him.

“Excuse me,” John entered the room with Alistair and a bald, short man carrying a black bag. “Dr. Longman has arrived.”

Ethan’s hands framed her face, a thumb caressed her mouth. “Are you sure…” he whispered. Angst laced his voice.

“I’m sorry, but yes, I’m sure, Ethan,” she murmured and stared deeply into his beautiful eyes. What have I done? He’s suffering, hurting because of my mistake. I should have never allowed things to get this far. “Have a safe trip, my dear.”

Chapter 11

11.45 p.m.

Sophia woke herself with her own screams.

Every time she had that nightmare, she woke up screaming. Since waking in that hospital, she had been having them at least once a week.

Not being able to remember something she needed to remember left her feeling anxious and anguished for the rest of the night. Heavy prescription drugs had alleviated it before. Although those drugs could help, Sophia had sworn never to touch them again.

She sat up on the bed with her head in her hands, a painful throbbing in her temples. Will I ever remember? Oh, God. I want this to end.

She heard a knock on the door.

Damn. My screams must have woken someone.

She put on a wrap and opened the door a crack. Alistair, Alice, and Leonard were outside her door.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

“Are you okay, Sophia?” Alice asked in a worried voice. “Alistair heard you screaming and called me.”

Alistair studied Sophia’s face. The stitches marred her forehead just above her eyebrow and a big black-and-blue bruise stained from above the cut to her cheek. Her face was ashen and her lips had no color. Her dark brown eyes were wide and haunted.

“I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’m fine, thank you. It was just a nightmare.” She tried to smile but ended up grimacing.

“A drink will do you good,” Alistair said, his voice firm. “I’ll accompany you.” A command.

Just the sound of his deep voice made her giddy. And she wouldn’t fall asleep for hours. “Sounds good. I’ll meet you in a moment.” He didn’t ask, you idiot. The right answer would have been “Yes, sire.”

When she opened the door again, only a small lamp lit the corridor. He waited for her outside, reclining against the doorjamb, his face in shadows. Even at this time of the night, he looked as if he had stepped off the cover of a magazine. A dark-green V-neck cashmere sweater clad his perfect chest and he wore his black jeans low on his hips.

She had quickly changed into a long-sleeved T-shirt and a gray cashmere cardigan, jeans and black boots.

“Shall we?”

“Again, I’m sorry I disturbed you,” she said in a voice above a whisper.

“I was awake. My room is the one next to yours. That’s why I heard you.”

He fell in step beside her, and they descended the stairs in silence, entering the library.

“What will you have?”

“Whisky. Neat.”

He looked at her sideways, smiling, but said nothing. He served them both and put some ice cubes in his glass. “Here you are. Scotch Whisky. Like we drink in Scotland. Single.” He sat beside her on the sofa, stretching his long legs in front of him and crossing his feet at his ankles.

The silence was comfortable. She was aware of Alistair glancing at her while she drank, but she said nothing, waiting for him to start a conversation. The whisky burned her throat filling her with warmth.

“Want to talk about your nightmare?”

She shook her head, tightening her lips for a moment to stop the words that were threatening to escape.

“Everyone knew it wasn’t an accident. He was pissed off,” he said in a low, dark voice.

She looked at him, puzzled, not making the connection right away.

“You weren’t dreaming about what happened today.” He suddenly understood.

She shook her head, slowly.

He put his warm and long hand on her cold one. “It’s good to talk. Helps keep the ghosts at bay.” I wish I had someone to talk to about mine.

She looked into his eyes, taking in their beauty and shook her head again. “I think this ghost will haunt me forever.” She sighed, rubbing her arm where she had been shot. “I don’t really know what goes on while I dream. I have partial amnesia. I don’t remember what happened and the nightmares…” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “I dream but when I wake up I can’t remember anything. Almost two years and I still can’t remember. I only know what other people and documents tell me. What happened… It was… Is too painful for my mind to cope with.” She shrugged. “At least, that’s how the doctors explained it.”

“I don’t understand…” He frowned. “What don’t you remember exactly?”

“I don’t remember part of my life after the night I was shot. I remember leaving a party with Gabriel. Then… Emptiness. A void. Two months are gone from my mind. And quite a few parts of the following two.” She looked at him, their gazes locked and she whispered, “And I don’t know if I really want to remember.”

“I can understand that feeling.” He squeezed her hand. “Your husband was killed on the same day you were shot?”

“No.” She wetted her lips and drank a bit more of the whisky. “No, he wasn’t. But… That’s more the official version than anything else.”

“Come again?”

“Everything is a great blur of pain.” She looked at the hazel liquid in the glass and swirled it. “I know he wasn’t killed on the same night because the police told me this and because I received-” She choked with the words, incapable of continuing. She shook her head hard to dislodge the painful image out of her head. “The doctors said that one day something might trigger my memory.” She bit her lip and silence ensued for some minutes. They were absorbed in their own thoughts.

“Who was the man, that day, at the Royal Courts?”

She looked at him warily.

His fingers caressed the back of her hand. “You can trust me. You know that.”

“My father-in-law,” she said softly and lowered her head.

He understood. She wasn’t going to say anymore.

“I could give you and Gabriela a lift back to London. I came by myself and have plenty of room in my car. I would enjoy having your company on the way back.”

Sophia almost thanked him for the change of topic. “I’d love to. What do you drive?”

“I came in the Range Rover.”

“My husband used to have one. He loved cars.” She smiled then. “What man doesn’t?” She finished her drink.

“Indeed.” He noticed that her empty glass. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, thank you. With ice, please. I don’t usually drink whisky, but I need one more.”

He rose, went to the cabinet, and refilled their glasses. He ambled in her direction, perusing her. “And you? You like cars?”

“Do I like cars?” she smiled. “If I could, I would sleep inside a car. I’ve always liked cars. I learned to drive with my brother. He’s the best. I turned into a maniac after my marriage. Believe it or not, I’m one of the best drivers you’ll ever see.”

“A woman? One of the best drivers I’ll ever see?” He smiled back. “I doubt it.”

“Try me.”

“One day you can take me for a ride. I’d like to judge for myself.”

“Done. Just pick the date.” She grinned widely. “I can’t resist a challenge. I hope you’re not afraid of speed or get carsick.”

“I’ll make sure my life insurance is up to date.”

She laughed.

He felt content. The haunted look from her face had vanished.

Sunday, February 14th, 2010.

Late afternoon.

Alistair opened the door for her and offered his hand to help her inside his Baltic blue Range Rover.

Sophia looked down at his hand for a moment and put hers in his.

Alistair experienced the same electric shock he felt every time he touched her. Her touch is cold, trembling, soft, and delicate. Her long fingers wrapped around his hand distracting him from what he was supposed to do. He stared at her elegant hand and closed his warm fingers over hers, immediately imagining how it would feel to explore her body with his fingers.

She cleared her throat, taking him abruptly out of his dream state. He gave her a small smile and helped her enter the car.

“Hey, Fairy! Let me check this car seat!” He opened the back door of the car to recheck the car seat, the seat belt, and the harness until completely confident Gabriela was secure. Alistair got in the car himself and looked at Sophia, a haunted look on his face. “You should always double-check that her seat and seat belt are secure.” He watched Gabriela in the rearview mirror. “That car seat is too small for her.”

“That one is for sports cars. It’s made like that. It’s not too small, that’s her size,” she said, confused by the sudden change in his behavior.

“I see.” He breathed deeply and smiled at her. “What kind of music would you like?”

“Anything’s fine.” She smiled back, “From classic to hard rock,” she shrugged, “From Mozart to Thirty Seconds to Mars.”

“Mama has very nice music on her iPhone. Put something on, Mama. Please.”

“Angel, let Alistair choose the music,” she chastised.

“Oh, no, please. I want to listen to your selection.” He extended a cable to plug in her phone.

“Do it, Mother. But no operas today. Put on your running playlist.”

“Do you like opera?” Alistair asked looking quickly at Gabriela before entering a sharp curve.

“I do. We do.” Gabriela felt at home.

Gabriela likes him. Sophia selected the list her daughter had requested.

“Rihanna?” Alistair looked surprised.

“It’s for running. You don’t like this type of music?” She immediately picked up her phone, scrolling through her playlists. “I have others: Evanescence, Linkin Park, Beethoven, Ollof, Italian operas, French and Italian romantics, or Brazilian soft and pop music. Name it.”

“No, no. It’s okay. Leave the one Gabriela likes. But I wouldn’t have picked you for a fan of this kind of music. You seem…” he eyed her, “far too serious for it.”

“You say that because you never saw Mama dance and sing. No one does it better than her. She does it alone at home.”

“It’s not true. Gabriela exaggerates.” The guy will think I’m nuts. Dancing alone at home. I need to have a serious talk with Gabriela when we get home.

“It seems I’ll have to take you out dancing. Again, I have to judge for myself.”

“Hmm. Gabriela, we have a Saint Thomas in our midst. He has to see it, to believe it.”

He laughed, “I can assure you, I’m no saint.” And gazed at her, a sensual twist on his mouth.

London.

7.01 p.m.

Time seemed to fly by. The conversation flowed easily between the three of them.

“I’m not living at Eaton Square anymore. I bought a house at Kensington Palace Gardens.” No need to lie anymore. Well, at least not about this. She sighed inward. I’ll have to explain things better to Ethan and apologize.

Alistair chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, shooing away her guilty thoughts.

“I live just a block down the road. At Palace Gardens Terrace.”

“Mmm.”

“Where is your house exactly?” he asked when they passed the iron gates of the private street.

“You can stop right here.”

He parked next to the curb and helped her take out their luggage. He didn’t see but immediately two huge men dressed in dark suits approached them from inside the gates. Sophia smiled at the men and made a signal for them to wait.

“Nice place.” He studied the location. “Beautiful garden.” He had been there before, but couldn’t remember when exactly.

“Yes, it is,” she mused.

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember when he had been there. “Need help with your luggage?” He held her hand, his fingers caressing the palm.

A shock of desire shot through Sophia’s body. She gazed at his face and there it was: that hungry look. She wetted her lips. His eyes followed the movement, a flame burning in the green.

There’s no way I’m going to invite him inside. “No, it is fine,” she said in a raspy voice and cleared her throat. “Thank you very much for the ride. I enjoyed it.”

“And I loved it! Can we plan another trip together?” Gabriela asked, totally unaware of the adults’ sizzling sexual undertow.

Alistair had to force himself to move his gaze from Sophia’s mouth to the little girl. He went down fluidly on his haunches to look at Gabriela. “Of course, Fairy. Anytime you want. Just call me.”

“I don’t have your telephone number,” she pouted. “How can I call you?”

He laughed. “This one is going to cause you trouble, Sophia.” He fished a card from his wallet. “Do you have a pen?” he asked Sophia.

She took her pen from her bag and held it to him. After writing down his cell phone and home numbers on the back of the card, he returned the pen to Sophia and handed the card to Gabriela. “Here. Now, you can call me.”

“Thank you.” She hugged and kissed him.

Alistair felt a pang in his heart. “Any time, sweetheart.” His arms went around the small body, holding her close. “Call me any time you feel like,” he whispered.

“I will.” She nodded and read the card slowly and concentratedly. “Alis-tair Co-nnor Mac-Craig, C-E-O.” She stopped there and her eyes were curious. “What’s a CEO?”

“Hey. You already know how to read?” This little girl is a wonder.

“Yes, I have a private teacher, Miss Eileen. She’s very nice,” she answered. “So, what’s a CEO?”

“A president,” Sophia simplified.

The little girl’s eyes widened. “You’re the president of Scotland?”

Alistair and Sophia laughed at Gabriela’s naïveté.

“No, sweetheart.” He grinned widely. “I’m the president of The City of London Bank. See the small name and initials here?” He pointed to a logo discretely imprinted on the top left of the card.

“President of a bank.” That impressed Gabriela. “You must be very, very important.”

He laughed again. A beautiful, easy laugh.

Gabriela doesn’t like many men. Well, she doesn’t like to make new acquaintances, period. The ease and friendship now established between her daughter and that stranger amazed Sophia. So different from her relationship with Ethan. Oh, Sophia, come now. What relationship? Ethan never liked her.

“Time to go, angel. You have to get up early tomorrow.” Sophia faced him, “Alistair, thank you again. For everything.”

He rose from the ground in a single beautiful movement and extended his hand to run his knuckles lightly over her bruised face. “You take care.” His long fingers cupped the other side of her face, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“I will. You too.”

His fingers tightened gently and he bent his head and kissed her on the lips, startling her. She blinked and breathed unevenly when he broke the light kiss.

Taking her carry-on from his hand, she put Gabriela’s bag on her shoulder. She looked up again at him, confused by his fingers still on her face.

An unreadable emotion appeared in her eyes as she freed herself from his grasp and whirled around toward home.

He stood there looking at the two of them walking hand in hand, until they entered the house, with a final small wave from Sophia and an eager one from Gabriela.

Kensington. Galewick Townhouse.

Saturday, February 20th, 2010.

2.07 p.m.

Alistair picked up his iPhone, stared at it for a long time, and shoved it back into his jeans pocket.

“Are you going to call her or not?” Leonard sounded amused.

“I beg your pardon?”

Leonard chuckled. “Sophia. Are you going to call her? If I had known she was ‘the lawyer,’ I would have pulled the strings sooner.”

“She’s trouble.”

“Just because she gave you a hard time? She is not like the others, Alistair. She’s a special woman. I wonder why she fascinates you so much since she’s not your usual type. It’s intriguing, to say the least.”

“Pray tell me, what is my usual type?” he said sardonically. “Gorgeous? Check. Amazing body? Check. Blonde? Well, I think I can make an exception.”

“Debauched women,” was the straightforward answer.

Jesus Christ. Alistair shook his head and thinned his lips. Does everyone know how far I have gone? How low I have fallen?

Leonard chuckled. “It has been fairly interesting to see you squirming under pressure. The mighty Alistair Connor MacCraig,” he smirked. “Not in all the time I’ve known you, have I witnessed this weird way of acting toward a woman. And you have had many.”

“In all honesty, Leo, I’ve been exercising strict control over my desires.” He rose and paced the room.

“Your ego’s wounded. You’re not seeing things straight. She was with Ethan.” Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Do you want another unfaithful woman?”

“She kissed me in the car, dammit.” He raked a hand through his hair. “That woman has fire burning under that controlled surface. She hasn’t fooled me.”

“Maybe she has fire. So what?” Leonard tilted his head to the side, thoughtfully. “Who initiated the kiss? She did?”

Alistair shook his head vehemently, his gorgeous hair swinging softly around his face. “I did. She had a fuck-me-now look on her face. She was begging for it.”

Leonard laughed. “Sophia doesn’t beg. She goes for it. I have seen her destroying older and more experienced lawyers without mercy, without apologizing. She ran me over when discussing an agreement as if I were one of her babbling students.”

“She did the same with me while negotiating a loan,” he grinned. “Christ, it was a huge turn on. Thing is, Leo, some women that have a strong personality for business need a different kind of release.” I want to shatter her control and have her in my own way.

Leonard’s smile vanished from his face and he frowned, “I don’t like this, Alistair.”

“Haven’t you had enough, Alistair Connor?” Alice’s voice came from behind and he pivoted on his heels. His sister leaned on the threshold, scowling at him.

Enough of what, Alice? What do you know? Alistair flung himself on the sofa and huffed, crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest.

“Sophia is not like Heather,” Leonard pointed out.

“Leave that bitch out of this,” he growled.

“Would you like it if someone said the same thing about me? ‘She had a fuck-me-now look on her face. She was begging for it,’” she mimicked Alistair’s voice in a derisive way, stepping into the room. “You haven’t asked for my advice, but here it goes anyway. Don’t throw away the second chances God sends you.”

“Tell me, Alistair,” Leonard’s suddenly eerie voice sent chills down Alistair’s spine, “would you rip off the wings of an angel just to prove Lucifer fell?”

“No, never.” Alistair shuddered visibly. Oh, please. I have no desire to destroy her. Why does everyone think this is all there is?

Sophia had him spellbound.

I don’t care if she’s an angel or a goddess. I want her. I cannot forget that beautiful, lovely face. Or the way her feelings transpired in her eyes. How she carried herself. She will be mine.

She was a witch and he was bewitched.

Kensington Palace Gardens. Atwood House.

5. 01 p.m.

When Sophia’s iPhone vibrated, she didn’t recognize the number. “Sophia Santo speaking.”

“Hello, Sophia. Alistair Connor.”

His deep, raspy voice made Sophia’s heart pound fiercely. He had something special, which had dragged her to him from the very first minute they met. She had committed to memory his powerful body and the way he had embraced her that day at the pool. Lean and sinewy muscles of a swimmer or a fighter. His towering height. The way he carried himself with the assurance of a man entirely at ease with himself. The way he kissed.

Sophia melted.

“Alistair, how are you?” She asked in a breathless voice. Oh, please, Sophia. Don’t be ridiculous.

“I’m well. And you? Are you recovered?”

“Almost. A little yellow around the eye. A reddish scar above my eyebrow. As expected.”

He could see her shrugging and dismissing the whole incident. “The plastic surgeon left a scar?”

“He said it’s going to fade completely within five to six months.”

“I’m sorry, Sophia.”

“Oh, no big deal. And you? What have you been doing?”

“Working too much. That’s why I phoned you.” Ach, I’m losing my touch. I have phoned her because I’m working too much? Come on, Alistair Connor, you can do better than that. “I bought tickets for the opera on March fifth, Tamerlano with Placido Domingo. Would you like to go with me?”

“Why sure, thank you.”

“And what about today? Are you up for something lighter? Perhaps dinner?”

“Ah… I…” she paused. Are you daft, Sophia? Don’t you know how to talk anymore? “Yes, I guess.” You guess? YOU GUESS?

“You guess?” he chuckled, “This is a yes or a no?”

“Yes, this is a yes,” she whispered.

“What about Hélène Darroze at The Connaught?”

“I’ve never been,” she answered softly.

“So, it’s settled. Eight o’clock okay?”

“Yes, yes, it is. Okay, I mean,” So, so idiotic, Sophia. She heard him chuckle. “So, I will see you then.”

“See you later, Sophia.”

7.59 p.m.

Sophia waited for Alistair at the garden gates. She had covered her bruises with concealing makeup. She wore a dark-brown Chanel overcoat, which partially covered a knee-length, burnt-red, heavy lace dress with a deep décolletage from Valentino with a brown belt. She opted for sheer tights and chocolate leather platform high heels.

Gabriela waited with her, dressed in her bunny pajamas and sneakers. Maria stood ready to return the child to bed.

Although wary, Sophia didn’t have the heart to impede her daughter. Gabriela wanted to see Alistair. I hope he doesn’t mind.

She heard a purring motor outside. Her stomach did a somersault and she drew in a deep breath. That must be him.

Steven and Devon opened the gates for her. Stepping outside, a vision of sheer masculinity dressed in a black blazer and a light gray turtleneck sweater with dark gray jeans that enhanced his legs rewarded Sophia. Alistair noticed her and flashed a grin of even, white teeth.

Gabriela passed under her mother’s arm and ran in Alistair’s direction with Steven close behind her. Alistair picked her up and whirled her in the air to Gabriela’s delighted squeals. Sophia looked over her shoulder to Maria. The Brazilian nanny smiled.

“She likes him a lot, Mrs. Leibowitz, and I think he does, too,” Maria told Sophia, in Portuguese.

“So it seems, Maria.” She strolled up to them as Gabriela whispered something in Alistair’s ear and he nodded to the little girl. “How are you, Alistair?”

“Not bad.” He smiled at her. “Not bad at all. And you?”

Typical English answer. “I’m fine, thanks. Gabriela, angel, go straight to bed, all right?”

“Ah, Sophia…” He winked at Gabriela and they looked sheepishly at her, “Gabriela just told me you’ve never taken her to the zoo.” As she shook her head, he continued. “Would you like to go tomorrow?”

“Please, Mama, please,” Gabriela begged.

“You two!” Sophia cocked her head, studying the man and the girl. Don’t get too involved. But, Sophia, she will like the zoo. Very well, then. For Gabriela. “Okay. The zoo. Tomorrow.”

Gabriela threw her arms around Alistair’s neck, hugging and kissing him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” His deep laughter sounded in the night.

Sophia took her from his arms and kissed her. “Bed. Now, angel.”

The little girl ran into the house, giggling and waving.

Alistair grinned and waved back. “She is a dear.” He opened the door to his navy BMW Z4 35i for her.

“Yes, she is,” she answered looking back at the gates and waving, observing as Steven locked them behind him.

“The Z4 is the right size for someone like you.” She smiled at him as he eased his long body behind the steering wheel.

“Aye. It’s quite difficult for me to fit inside sports cars. It is very rare to find the car I desire.”

She smiled eyeing his long legs and broad shoulders. “I can imagine. Do you fit in a McLaren?”

“The Mercedes?” His eyes sparkled. “I do, but it’s more comfortable for me in the passenger’s seat.”

“Up for a ride?” She grinned mischievously at him.

“Good grief! You don’t drive one of those beasts!” He looked at her, startled.

“Why not? I told you I was a hell of a driver. It is powerful. It gives a spectacular sensation of having control and being controlled.”

Uh? “Come again?” he frowned. How do you manage that? Dominate and submit at the same time? Is this a new sexual game?

She unlaced her fingers and splayed them. “It’s like riding a stallion or a still untamed horse. You have to control it but you have to allow it to control you too. It’s like a dance, a precise balance between giving and taking. But…” Her hands snapped shut and, in a flash, opened wide again. “You can lose everything with the wrong movement. An hour driving at high speed on a windy road? It’s one of the most satisfying experiences you can have. And it wears you out. It’s orgasmic.”

His desire was running rampant. So, you like controlling, too, don’t you, Sophia? “And you drive it to work?”

“No. It turns too many heads. Sometimes, at night, when I need to unwind I go for a drive. Alone.”

“You unwind driving? Every day?”

She laughed. “No. I run, workout, swim, fence-”

“And drive alone at night through windy roads…” He leaned in, causing the muscles of his arms and shoulders to bulge and stretch his blazer.

Sophia’s mouth went dry. He was so much bigger and wider than she was. So powerful. Unbidden, her eyes moved over his frame and came back to meet his.

He gave her a knowing smile.

You are too arrogant, Mr. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. Not good. Not good at all.

“There is no need to unwind alone behind the wheel of a car to have an orgasm, Sophia,” he murmured, sensually and leaned in further, “I can help with that.”

“An org-” she gasped. The car suddenly became smaller. “No, I said it was orgasmic.”

“Same thing.” His green eyes were burning her and he raised his hand to caress her face with his knuckles. “How long are you going to run and hide from the experiences I can provide you? Remember what I told you that afternoon in your apartment?”

“What? I don’t…” She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

A blast from a horn startled him. The light had turned green.

Christ! Alistair Connor, pay attention. Alistair pumped the gas and Sophia changed the subject.

“So, Mr. President of Scotland,” she mocked, he smiled, “you were born there, weren’t you?”

“Aye, in the Highlands, Inverness. My father is a Highlander and my mother was English, so we used to travel a lot to London with her. That’s why I don’t have such a strong accent.”

“Do you go there often?”

“I have to. Not only because of the bank but also because I have a stable there.”

They arrived at the restaurant and a liveried doorman opened the door for Sophia, momentarily interrupting the conversation.

Hélène Darroze at The Connaught.

8.19 p.m.

“We’ll have some champagne,” Alistair informed the sommelier, who handed him the champagne list. He surveyed the list quickly and smiled to himself. Sophia, I’ll have you by the end of this evening. “Krug. Clos D’Ambonnay, please.”

Sophia waited for the sommelier to step away and turned on the sofa to look at Alistair, “What a coincidence. That’s my favorite champagne.”

“You have good taste. It’s mine, too,” he answered with a smile, putting his arm over the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing her hair.

Sophia stiffened a bit, but it didn’t deter Alistair from delving his fingers in her silky black tresses, the tip of his fingers caressing her nape.

Sophia shifted on the sofa, getting away from his hand and he let his fingers fall from her neck.

“When did you move?”

“Last week. But I can’t say I have really moved. I should say that I’m camping,” she smiled. “But I couldn’t wait anymore. I was impatient and it’s easier to supervise everything from there. It’s almost finished, it just needs a few final touches.”

“Why did you move? Your apartment was big enough for a single woman and a child. And it was beautifully decorated.”

“Yeah, it was nice. But Kensington Palace Gardens is… perfect. No traffic or strangers allowed; in a good neighborhood; near everything,” she shrugged. “And there is a garden behind the house. Gabriela can play outdoors and be safe there.”

“Didn’t you have access to the private gardens in Eaton Square?”

“Yes, I did,” she nodded.

“And still you didn’t think she would be safe there?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she shrugged.

His green eyes searched hers, trying to glimpse beneath the cool façade she presented. “Don’t you feel lonely there?”

She looked away from his prying eyes, thinking about his question. Yes, I feel lonely. Very much. Everywhere I go. Even in a place full of people. She turned her face back to him and, staring into his eyes, answered in a soft voice, “Alistair, she is the most important thing in my life. I can’t afford to put her safety at risk. I would do anything for her. Anything. If, quote, isolating myself and living alone, unquote, in an enormous house is the price to pay for keeping Gabriela happy and safe, I dare say it is more than a bargain. It’s a free ticket to heaven.”

“Not everyone would make that sacrifice,” he replied. Do you want to sleep in my apartment today? You wouldn’t feel lonely there. I can guarantee it.

“Sacrifice? Living in Kensington Palace Gardens is no sacrifice. On the contrary.”

“You are a young woman, Sophia. Living alone is a sacrifice.” Unashamedly, his green eyes expressed a naked desire that threatened to consume Sophia. “You need a man to bring you pleasure.”

You can fill the position if you wish. Sophia cleared her throat, before changing subjects. “So, do you always go to the movies?”

If the woman with him were not Sophia, he would have skipped dinner, dragged her directly to his apartment, and had sex for hours until he was done with her. Instead, he continued with the conversation, talking about his hobbies and asking about hers.

Without his noticing, as Sophia evaded his sexual teases with charm, Alistair started to relax and focus on the conversation. Soon, he had shifted on the sofa to better look at her as she told him about the last book she read. After the second bottle of Krug, he imitated Leonard during a trial and told Sophia funny stories from his younger days.

11.38 p.m.

He glided behind the steering wheel with an elegance that amazed Sophia. “Shall I show you my apartment?” I have such nice gadgets there.

Sophia schooled her expression before facing him, “Don’t we have to wake up early tomorrow to go to the zoo?”

No? Seriously? What are you? A virgin schoolgirl? “Early? No. Not really.”

“Err…” Quickly, Sophia, quickly. “Gabriela wakes up early. And I like to enjoy the mornings with her.”

Okay. Not today. Understood, Sophia. He smiled at her. “So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 10. Prepare to spend the day with me. I’ll make reservations for us at a restaurant near the zoo. It’s simple, but the food is excellent.”

After dropping her off, Alistair drove home immersed in thought.

He opened the door to his apartment and looked around.

Empty and cold.

He poured himself a glass of wine and swirled the red liquid, the dark shade of red reminding him of Sophia’s lips.

I need to fuck. That’s all. He palmed his erection and sighed. He hated to jack himself off. He picked up his phone and scrolled down to Madame Blanchet’s number, but turned it off, briskly shaking his head. He was not in the mood for an escort tonight.

He wanted her.

He needed her.

Only she would do.

He rose from the armchair in an irritated mood. I need no one. No one. Never again. Never. Again.

He didn’t want any relationships, but if this was what it would take to have her, so be it.

Let her have her way for now.

Leibowitz Oil Building.

Monday, February 22nd, 2010.

9.18 a.m.

“Oh, he has a wicked sense of humor and made me laugh all night.”

“I see,” he sighed, “but, still, Sophia, bear in mind that he’s not Gabriel. I’ll ask Mendes to do a-”

“Why?” Her forehead creased. “You didn’t suggest anything like that for Ethan.”

“You didn’t have this look of wonder on your face, either,” he smirked. “Since you first met him, whenever you hear his name you look like a teenager. Worse. You act like a teenager.”

“Well, I’m not a teenager anymore, Edward,” she snapped at him. “Stop talking nonsense.”

“Love, I’m sorry to scare you,” he replied sternly, “however this is not nonsense. He has captured your heart and if you don’t take care he is going to crush it with his bare hands.”

“Good heavens, Edward.”

He took out his iPhone from his inside suit pocket. “Let me call-”

“No.” She shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t do it.”

“Why not?” He asked, baffled. She had never had such scruples before. “It’s for your own protection.”

“And if he discovers?”

Edward shook his head, “Sophia, you know Mendes is a highly praised professional. His reports are completely confidential and he is very discreet.”

“I don’t see any reason-” She stopped at his dark look.

Edward rose from the armchair and circled her desk, reining back his temper with every step, his blue gaze holding her honey one.

“Stubborn woman,” he muttered and leaned over her iMac and typed Alistair’s full name into Google. Thousands of pages were listed. “Has he told you he is a Marquis? Heir to a dukedom?”

“No. But it doesn’t mean-”

“You aren’t dealing with Brazilians, Sophia. Here, in the UK, some families still value those things,” Edward scowled her.

“I don’t think it is the case. If it were, he would have told me from the beginning.”

“I checked his name and the coat of arms on the personal card he sent you. He’s the Marquis of Ells and his father is the Duke of Craigdale. And they have some other titles in their sleeves. Peerage of England, Scotland, and even the United Kingdom. A very traditional, powerful, and rich family. I would say they’re just below the Royal Dukes. His mother was the daughter of an English duke, too. His sister is married to a very important duke. Still doesn’t mean anything?”

“Perhaps it’s just a coincidence. After all, it is his social circle. If it were so important to him, he would have made it clear from the beginning, Edward.”

“Maybe.” Edward said then clicked on ‘images.’ The screen filled with photos, almost all of them of Alistair accompanied by beautiful women, in public appearances or taken by paparazzi. “Take a look. He doesn’t have relationships. He only has one-night stands.”

He scrolled until he found what he was looking for and clicked.

Her own image with Alistair leaving Gordon Ramsay at Claridge’s exploded in front of her eyes.

She gasped.

He slowly turned his face to look at her. He closed the photo and opened another. This time they were photographed in his car, at a red light on Kensington High Street, near her house.

Sophia felt a chill in her spine as she saw a photo of them taken during the weekend. And, what shocked her the most, the depiction of a smiling Alistair carrying Gabriela in his arms and holding Sophia’s hand, shown on a gossip blog with the headline, “Mysterious Woman Captures Elusive Alistair Connor MacCraig’s Heart.” The story described - with saucy details - the great number of women passing through Alistair’s life and how easily he disposed of them.

Sophia scrolled down, her heart beating fast in her chest. The article was full of images. All of Alistair’s dates were blonde with blue eyes.

“See what I mean, Mysterious Woman?” he sneered. “Want to see something even more interesting?” With a few more clicks, a younger Alistair appeared on the screen playing with a blonde, blue-eyed little girl in a park. It was probably a papparazzi shot.

Edward zoomed in on the girl’s face and Sophia inhaled sharply.

“Yeah! Digest that!”

“They could be sisters,” she stuttered in a small voice.

“I have been haunted by this photo ever since I first saw it.” He went back to the armchair and flung himself in it, smoothing back a blond lock that had fallen on his forehead. “Only a background check, Sophia, for Gabriela’s protection. And yours.”

“Edward, I don’t feel at all comfortable about this checking thing. He is not my competitor. This is a personal relationship.”

“Sophia,” he shook his head and sighed. “Sometimes your innocence baffles me. How can a,” his fingers made quotation marks in the air, “shrewd businesswoman be so naïve? Do you think if he were in your place he wouldn’t do it? Anyone would. Everyone does.”

Sophia bit her lip and looked at the photo again. And decided, “No, Edward. This isn’t business. I have morals and principles. Life isn’t a war.”

“Well, then. Think about it. But think hard. I don’t want to see you crying later because of principles and morals.” His blue eyes flashed with an undefined emotion. He picked up an envelope from her desk and opened it, ending the argument.

Chapter 12

The City of London Bank Headquarters.

Tuesday, February 23rd, 2010.

8.30 p.m.

The building was virtually empty. Heavy footsteps on the marble floors echoed on the walls.

The tall, burly man knocked on the door, observing the dimly lit room he was standing in. Conservative. So unlike the man who owned it. He laughed inwardly, darkly amused. If he liked to gossip, half of London would be doomed.

The door opened and Alistair invited the man into his office.

“Good evening, Baptist. You worked quickly, as always.” His certainty about the detective’s capacity or professionalism remained unspoken.

“Mr. MacCraig, you know that my reports are the best in Britain,” he boasted. “I informed you before that Sophia Santo didn’t exist. And that the woman you were looking for was another person, had another identity.” He handed over the file he was carrying. “But, if I may say, this was one of the most difficult jobs I ever had. Challenging. The woman is an eel.”

Alistair motioned for the man to sit down, opened the file, and quickly scanned the information inside. “Something about her family, Gabriel Leibowitz, and Leibowitz Oil. More about the Sophia Leibowitz Foundation for Women and Children. So on and so forth. Mmm,” he stroked his jaw with two fingers and perused the pages. “What about her private life?”

“Nothing that is relevant. She’s a very private person. So was her late husband. However, Mr. MacCraig,” said the man with his polite, but firm voice, “I could say the same about you. There is a lot of information available about you, but nothing vital.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Although much could be discovered through your late wife.”

Fuck. Alistair’s temper flared. He thinned his lips and he hooded his eyes to conceal his anger. Fine lines appeared around of his eyes. “Maybe. Nonetheless, Baptist, I’m not paying you to investigate me. I know all there is to know about myself and my late wife.”

He leafed through the photos provided, some new, some old and paused at one from Sofia’s wedding. She was a beautiful bride. So young, so happy. “It’s not possible that she hasn’t left any clue, any hint that you could follow,” he murmured, turning over through the few pages of the file.

“If I were to give my personal opinion based on my research, I would say she had an uneventful and happy life until her husband’s kidnapping. She is well travelled, as you can see. Her family is important and rich, though not as much as Mr. Leibowitz’s. They were originally from the state of Minas Gerais and have farms, country houses, and many properties. I couldn’t find any serious boyfriends from before her wedding. She married very, very young and quickly. Her family emancipated her for it.”

That’s not good. “Was she pregnant?”

“I cannot confirm, but I’d say she was not.”

“Facts, facts, Baptist,” he prompt.

“Well, based on the lack of the evidence,” the man rephrased, “I think she was not.”

“What about Gabriel Leibowitz?”

“Basically business information. The age different between them was great. Many previous girlfriends, but nothing serious before his marriage. No paid sex, so my contact in Brazil couldn’t retrieve much information about his sexual preferences. He traveled around the world frequently, and he either took along his partners or he kept to himself. An easy man, excellent employer, highly praised businessman.”

“I see.” Jealous and angry, Alistair snorted. “The perfect gentleman. A man of honor.”

“So it seems,” Baptist concurred. “The perfect couple. The perfect family.”

“What about his death?”

“One more kidnapping case poorly handled,” he informed. “Too many mistakes made by those conducting the negotiations and, at the end, by the police. They procrastinated too much to pay the ransom. A misfortune.”

“So, this is all you’ve achieved.” He looked again at the meager folder.

“Unfortunately,” the burly man nodded. “She’s been even more evasive in the last two years. But I’ll seek out more information. Everyone has secrets, Mr. MacCraig.” A dark smile appeared on the man’s face. “I’ll discover hers, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, Baptist,” Alistair rose from his chair, “I will transfer the funds as agreed.”

“Mr. MacCraig, it has been a pleasure doing business with you as usual.” They shook hands. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out more.”

Alistair closed the door to his office and moved to one of the sofas of his office, drumming his fingers restlessly against the polished wooden surface of the side table, intrigued as much by the elusiveness of the woman as by his strange reactions to her.

As a CEO and majority shareholder of one of the biggest banks in the UK, he wielded a great deal of power. He owed his position entirely to his exceptionally sharp and quick mind, dispassionate observation of strategy, and ability to crush his and others’ feelings during any business transaction. Very few things moved him beyond his family.

In his entire life, the only time he let his feelings control him and relinquished his heart, he’d been betrayed and had lost the most important person in his life.

He opened the file again and turned to the last page-”Mysterious Woman Captures Elusive Alistair Connor MacCraig’s Heart.”

His bitter laugh echoed in the room. I have no heart. Not anymore. It is buried six feet under with Nathalie.

The tip of his left index finger traced the contour of Sophia’s face in the photograph. She was so different from the women he was used to going out with.

First of all, a brunette. And too young, too intelligent, too gentle and too… innocent. He mused on his choice of words. He shook his head hard. This is pure lust. It’s her resistance that beguiles me. It’s her control. It defies me. It’s her lack of fear that challenges me.

At Nathalie’s grave, he had made a promise never to let his lack of control allow his lust command him again. A growl filled his chest as he let go his wrath. Never more. Never.

He picked up the phone and dialed her number. Let’s finish this, once and for all. He tapped his finger on the table impatiently as he waited.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Leibowitz, please,” he almost barked.

“Who is calling?”

“Alistair Connor MacCraig,” he answered and breathed deep, struggling with his emotions.

“Just a minute, please, Mr. MacCraig.”

Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake sounded on phone.

He smiled.

And he frowned. Fuck, Alistair Connor. She’s driving you to obsession.

“Hello?” Sophia tried to sound nonchalant but her heart beat faster and her voice was breathless and husky.

“Sophia, it’s Alistair Connor. How are you?”

“Alistair, what a surprise.” Surprise? Here you go again, acting like an idiot, Sophia.

He chuckled inside but just said, “Sophia, on Thursday I’m supposed to go to the royal première of Alice in Wonderland at Leicester Square. You could go with me.”

She creased her brow in wonder. Is this an invitation or an order? “Oh,” Oh? Sophia, you are finishing a PhD. Can’t you do better? She breathed deeply, “Yes, that would be delightful, Alistair. Thank you. What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at six sharp. It’s black-tie.”

“Okay,” she answered.

“And tonight? Are you free?”

Sophia looked at her Crazy Hours watch. Nine fifteen in the evening! He wants to go out? Sophia, Sophia, just say no. Not today. “Err… I’m sorry. I have a contract to revise and Gabriela usually wakes up early.” Terrible, just terrible.

“Have you eaten?” he insisted. “We can have a quick dinner, somewhere.”

You are persistent, aren’t you, Alistair Connor? “Well, honestly, I was… I haven’t yet-”

“I’m picking you up in fifteen minutes, then,” he succinctly informed her.

Uh? Are you? In fifteen minutes? “Alistair, it’s snow-” she started and he interrupted her again.

“Sophia, get dressed. Something simple. I’ll make reservations on my way to your house. Kensington Place. Have you been there?”

Get dressed? Is this another order? “A long time ago, but-”

“It’s five minutes from your place. I’ll pick you up with Garrick. Inform the gates, please. See you in fifteen,” he finished the call.

Alistair looked at the wireless telephone in his hand. “Fuck!”

He controlled his impulse to throw the phone through the window and put it deliberately slowly in its cradle. He picked up his coat and shook his head at himself as he locked his office and went to the elevators. He was losing his mind over a woman.

Sophia frowned at the phone in her hand. What the hell?

9. 25 p.m.

Sophia discarded another dress on the armchair and turned to the trousers, biting her lip.

Something simple.

Something. Simple.

She grabbed a pair of black jeans but threw them on the armchair too. He’s coming from the office and wearing his suit. Oh, damn. I’ve never been this undecided. She glanced at the trousers again. Yes, that’s it. She decided on black wool trousers with suspenders and a short red jacket and black platform ankle boots. Okay. Now… She twirled and looked at her tops and sweaters. Yes, my white turtleneck.

She dressed in haste, brushed her hair again, put on just a touch of mascara, and then some perfume. She looked in the mirror and smiled at the flushed woman with gleaming eyes staring back at her. She pivoted, happily.

She pinned her Nereid clip on her jacket, put on one of Gabriel’s Rolex watches, and checked her diamond earring studs. You look nice, Sophia.

She grabbed her black purse and her black overcoat. A male voice sounded in the room, “Mrs. Leibowitz, there’s a BMW at the street gate waiting for permission to enter. Security says it’s Mr. MacCraig.”

Oh, damn. I forgot to inform them.

She pressed the button and answered, “Thanks, Devon. Let his car in and direct it to the garden gates. I’ll be down in a sec.”

It was pouring when Sophia exited by the side door. Devon accompanied her to Alistair’s car, opening the door for her.

Sophia entered the car and Devon closed the door.

She turned to look at Alistair.

And her breath caught in her throat.

Oh. My. How am I going to resist this god?

He wore a navy three-piece suit opened to show a waistcoat fit nicely over his flat stomach, a purple damask tie, and a starched white shirt.

Perfect. Her heartbeats spiked to a thousand per second.

“You look beautiful, Sophia,” his deep voice and his light kiss on her lips made her even more breathless.

“Hi,” she answered and cleared her throat. Oh, please, stop melting. “I’m sorry I forgot to inform the gates you were coming.”

“It’s okay,” he waved his large hand dismissing her neglect. “I hope you like seafood.”

“I love seafood.”

“Kensington Place serves very good fish. It’s all fresh and very high quality. They also have a good Bordeaux,” Alistair rolled his shoulders, trying to ease away some of his tension. “It’s nice and simple. I eat there frequently.”

She cocked her head and took a real look at his face. There were thin lines around his slightly narrowed eyes. She lifted her hand to touch his temple, “You look stressed. Is everything okay?”

His hand covered hers, pressed it to his face, and he inhaled her perfume. No, Sophia, it is not. I feel… tied in knots and you are the cause. “Aye, it is,” his eyes burrowed into hers. “I’m… just disappointed. I was waiting for some news that didn’t come.” And you keep eluding me. I don’t know who you really are.

“Oh.” She caressed his face with her fingertips. “I’m sorry.”

A ghost of a smile turned his lips upward, “Don’t be. I’ll discover what I need. In due time.” He turned his face to kiss her inner wrist and entwined his fingers in hers.

“You are cocky, aren’t you? Vanity is a sin, Alistair Connor.” Mr. I’m-so-handsome-and-powerful-and-I-know-it. This nickname is getting too big.

He smiled at her remark, “I’m not vain. I just know my strengths.”

“And you like to brag about them.”

His hand dived into her hair and he bent to lightly kiss her lips, saying, “I like you, Sophia.”

They stopped at 201 Kensington Church Street and Alistair touched the intercom, “Garrick, I’ll call you when we finish. Don’t bother getting out. I have an umbrella with me.” He opened the door, the umbrella and got out of the car. He reached his hand to help Sophia get out of the car. He put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to his body, sheltering her from the pouring rain as they walked up to the restaurant.

“Mr. MacCraig, ma’am, good evening,” the manager came immediately to the door to take their coats and Alistair’s umbrella giving them to the receptionist. “We’re having such wretched weather tonight, aren’t we? I’ve reserved your usual table, sir.”

They were directed to a table in the corner and the manager pulled it out so Sophia could sit on the sofa, near the wall. Alistair slid in next to her, his thigh touching hers as he shifted closer.

“We’ll have the Chateau Client and still water,” Alistair informed the manager. And looked at Sophia, “What do think of grilled king prawns as a starter?”

“Sure.”

“So, six grilled prawns to start with,” he ordered and turned to Sophia as the manager left and put his arm over the back of the sofa. “How is Gabriela?”

Sophia’s mouth opened in a broad grin, “Fine, thank you. You do have a way with children. She likes you a lot. And that’s no easy achievement. She’s shy and normally distrusts men.”

His face lit up with happiness, shooing away the brooding crease on his forehead. “She’s a lovely child. Beautiful and so intelligent.”

“Sometimes I think I treat her… Too much like an adult. That I should be less stern.”

“I can’t picture you being stern with Gabriela.” He curled a strand of her long, ink-black hair on his fingers, musing, “It must be very difficult to raise a child all alone.”

“I think it gets worse as the years go by and they grow up and take their first steps into the world. For the time, it’s not that hard. On the contrary, it’s a blessing.”

“You have a tendency to diminish your problems, don’t you?”

“What’s the point of making life more difficult than it is already?” She shrugged. “It’s not going to take pity on me if I cry and wail. It’s easier to woman up,” she smiled broadly, “and grab the bull by its horns.”

“I like your point of view.” He paused as the waiter showed him the wine and served them. “Why did you become a lawyer?”

“My grandfather, on my mother’s side, was a judge at one of the high courts in Brazil. And my father’s mother was a prosecutor. I always admired them. But… I’ve never wanted to be a judge or a prosecutor. And I didn’t have to worry about earning a living, so I chose to be a lawyer. It’s more difficult to establish oneself, you know?”

“And you like difficult things?”

“You might say I don’t like easy things,” she smiled. “But, no. It wasn’t that.”

“Don’t be so secretive, Sophia.”

She looked at him and bit her lip, thoughtful.

“Don’t,” his thumb caressed the lip he had just freed. “You bite your lip a lot, don’t you?”

“I… I really don’t know. It’s an unconscious habit. And it seems it’s a bad one because every man I know gets bothered by it.”

“Every man?” Have you had many men?

“Well…”

And what if she has, Alistair Connor? You don’t want anything serious with her, anyway. “You were explaining why you wanted to become a lawyer.”

“I don’t like inequity. And the Brazilian legal system handled my parents’ death poorly. It was so unfair. And as I grew up, I saw so many wrongdoings-”

“And you think you can right the world.”

“No,” she shook her head vehemently. “Not at all. But, at least, I can do something.” Her eyes flashed brown at some secret thought and she whispered darkly, “And when injustice prevails, as it does in Brazil, it’s better to know the legal loopholes and flaws than to be ignorant of them. So you can better use them to your advantage.”

“You speak in riddles, Sophia.” He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I’m sure you do, Alistair Connor.” She shrugged and drank some of her wine. “You are a very intelligent man or you wouldn’t have achieved what you have. And how about you? Are you an economist?”

“No. I graduated from Oxford with a degree in civil law and I did my master’s in law and finance, also at Oxford.”

“But you didn’t pursue a law career or want to teach. Why?”

“Because I’m not interested in other people’s problems, Sophia. I only care about what I can do for myself. I’m a ruthless and selfish man. Men usually are.”

“Are you trying to scare me away?” Sophia was momentarily taken aback. “You can’t think like that, really?”

“Why not?” he shrugged, “life is not a fairy tale.” His lips curled into a grimace. “Maybe Ashford was right. We should keep children away from Disney films. We grow up believing in dreams that never come true and are brutally shattered as we get older. There is no happy ending, Sophia. There’s no Prince Charming.”

She shook her head slowly, staring fixedly into his green eyes. “You’re in denial. I don’t believe your empty words. I saw how you acted at Leonard’s. With the children. Especially with Gabriela. I remember your protective behavior when Ethan swore at her and when I hurt myself after that accident. Selfish people don’t like children and they don’t defend others.”

“Don’t make me into a hero,” he snorted. I’m anything but. “And, please. Stop calling what Ashford did an accident-”

She put her fingers on his mouth, “I handled it poorly. I should have left Galewick Hall without saying good-bye to him. He’s impulsive and I am too.”

“He’s a violent man. He was the one who left those marks on your wrist, wasn’t he?”

Sophia averted her eyes and drank her wine, “I bruise easily.”

“And it seems to me that you like violent men.” His eyes turned a wonderful dark green.

“Of course not,” she bristled. “I started a foundation that protects abused women and children. There is nothing more hateful than an abusive man.”

Hmm. Is this true, Sophia? “It seems you have to start asking your foundation for protection yourself. You are clearly attracted to power and dominance.”

Sophia frowned, lines creasing her forehead. “Why do you say that?”

He smoothed out the lines on her brow with the tip of his fingers and sunk them into her hair, flashing a smile, “You’re so easy to read, Sophia. You are a successful and self-confident woman, but you like aggressive men. I don’t know much about your late husband but I bet he was an assertive and callous man. Leibowitz Oil was a small company and now it’s one of the biggest in the world. No one can achieve that by being a teddy bear. You’re surrounded by powerful and strong-willed men. Gabriel, Davidoff, Leonard, Ashford. Me. Despite your… courageous and determined way of facing life, you have a fragile and impetuous side that calls for and begets protection. And dominance.”

“Davidoff is the best. And Leonard… He is such a good friend and a gentleman.”

“Aye, but both are ruthless and powerful when needed.”

She bit her lip, thinking about what he said.

He didn’t resist and dropped his head to kiss her mouth, taking her full bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling it. When he lifted his head, he whispered on her lips, “Don’t bite your lip. If you feel the need, I’ll do it for you.”

She giggled, breathlessly, “You are funny. No one has ever offered to bite my lip for me before.”

“Well, no one’s ever called me funny before. Anyway,” he smiled sensuously, “I’ll gladly do it for you. That and much more.”

Sophia felt a rush of hot desire run through her spine, leaving her light-headed. “Oh, will you?”

He tugged her hair back lightly, “Much, much more, Sophia.”

Timely for Sophia, the waiter approached their table, bringing the menus and the prawns. “Would you like to order, Mr. MacCraig?”

Alistair accepted the menus but put them down on the table. “Give us a few minutes.”

“Of course, sir.” He put the plate of crispy prawns in the middle of the table, between them. “Enjoy,” he dipped his head and walked away.

Sophia looked at her watch, “I think we should order. It’s almost ten o’clock.”

What? No woman ever looks at her watch while with me. Am I losing my touch? “Am I boring you, Sophia?”

“Boring?” she blinked, astonished by his question. “No. It’s just that I wake up very early on Wednesdays. I give a class at eight o’clock. In Cambridge. And I work out for half an hour before I leave home at six thirty.”

Fuck. Wrong day to ask her out. “We should order indeed.” He handed her a menu and opened his.

She bit into a prawn and moaned, “Mmm, divine.”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. The woman moans over everything. He scanned the menu quickly and snapped it shut, irritated.

She looked at him, “Have you decided?”

“Aye, I know this menu back to front,” he signaled for the waiter. “Have you decided?”

Unsure, she bit her lip, unconsciously, and he tsked twice. She looked up from the menu and he sunk his teeth in his bottom lip, mimicking her actions.

Sophia melted at the sight of his white, even teeth biting his dark pink lip and she lost her train of thought. “Hmm, what?”

His face split with a Cheshire cat smile, “Your main course, Sophia?”

“Ah, yes. How’s the monkfish?”

His beautiful eyes lit on hers. “It’s succulent, tender,” he said softly and licked his lips. “With a slightly sweet flavor.” As you must have. I’ll taste you, Sophia. Soon. Have no doubt about it.

Ah… She blinked and focused her eyes back on the menu, “So, I’ll have the smaller portion. With the herb butter sauce.”

Alistair turned to the waiter and ordered, “For me, the whole sea bream with beurre noisette and Jersey Royal new potatoes. For the lady, the monkfish with herb butter sauce, and…” he looked at Sophia.

“Leaf salad, please.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As the waiter left, Alistair again turned to Sophia, this time shifting on the sofa, his knee touching her thigh. She scooted away. He smiled at the prudish movement, but it didn’t stop his hand snaking around her waist and pulling her closer.

“What are you afraid of?” he breathed, trying to figure her out.

“Nothing. I’m not afraid. But it’s only been a few days since I ended a relationship. You can’t expect me to jump into another just like that,” she snapped her fingers. “I’m not a frivolous woman that changes partners without a second thought, just based on lust.”

Ah, Sophia, I understand your game, now. You’re horny but you’re playing hard to get. Let’s see how long you’re going to resist me. “Don’t put off till tomorrow what you can do today. Tomorrow may be good, but tonight is better, Sophia.”

She smiled, amused, “I don’t think the saying applies to this situation, Alistair.”

“Seems that I’ll have to work hard to convince you,” he said.

“I like hard work,” she whispered with a wink.

11.35 p.m.

Sophia shuddered when she stepped out of the restaurant, “It’s cold.”

“Of course, it’s cold. It’s snowing and you haven’t put on your coat properly.” Alistair took the coat from her shoulders and made Sophia dress it, gathering her into his chest, his hands rubbing her back. “You have a problem with coats, don’t you?”

She looked up to gaze at his face, smiling. “It’s just a few seconds until your driver arrives and, besides, I love the cold,” she breathed the freezing air deeply and closed her eyes. “I love this icy air.”

When she opened her eyes again, he smiled down at her. “How can a Carioca love the cold?”

“I hate the weather in Rio. I hate the hot air, the humidity. Leibowitz Oil has a branch in Manaus. It’s the worst climate in the world. When I went there last year, I took three showers a day and felt sticky as soon as I got out. My wish was to stay in the water the whole time. Oh, it’s beautiful, unbelievably beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but in August, when the summer is in full swing there, as it’s close to the equatorial line, you feel like you’re burning in hell.”

“I don’t know Manaus or Rio. But I know you have longer summers,” he countered, “and beautiful beaches.”

She shrugged, “I don’t care very much about them. In fact, I didn’t usually go to the beach and I hate sand. I’m not a typical Carioca. But I love to scuba dive. It’s so peaceful. Just me and the fish. No sound to disturb me,” she rubbed her icy nose on his warm chest and he tightened his arms around her.

He looked away from her face and noticed his BMW drawing up to the curb, “Come, Garrick has arrived.”

She entered the car and rubbed her hands to warm them up. Alistair gave directions to Garrick and immediately took her hands in his, blew warm breath, and caressed them. He raised his eyes to hers, “You’re so soft, Sophia. Your skin fells like silk.”

Sophia’s breath hitched and she licked her lips, unsure of what to say, but Alistair wasn’t expecting a reply. He shifted on the seat facing her and fast as lightning hauled her onto his lap and dropped his head to kiss her.

She put her hand over his mouth, stopping him.

“Sophia, Sophia,” he murmured in her fingers, “you drive me crazy. Why do you resist me so much?”

“I’ve already explained, Alistair,” she whispered.

“You still have doubts? You melt in my arms, Sophia, and,” he picked her hand and put it over his erection, pressing it down, “I get harder and harder when you’re around. Just your smell makes me horny. Sleep with me tonight.”

She pulled her hand away as if seared by his arousal. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to work tomorrow morning and…” she shook her head, “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

He sighed, “I see.” Okay, Sophia, let’s play your game for now. For now.

London, near Leicester Square.

Thursday, February 25th, 2010.

6.19 p.m.

“Why did it have to rain tonight?” Sophia murmured, looking out the window. “God is very angry with someone.”

“It seems so.” Alistair glanced at her and chuckled, “You’re going to get those strange black shoes wet.”

“And you think this is funny?” she huffed. “I looked everywhere for these magnificent Philip Treacy sandals.”

“I don’t understand women,” he shook his head at her. “And this wispy thing you’re wearing can’t be warm enough.” His warm hand ran over the sheer, embroidered sleeve of her black-and-orange gown and frowned, “You’re cold.”

“More respect, Alistair Connor,” she scowled at him. “First of all, this,” she lifted one of the organza layers of her dress as he wrapped her with the pale orange shahtoosh on her lap, “is not a wispy thing. It’s a Lino Villaventura. No one is more heavenly inspired-” She halted as she glanced at his face.

He’d thinned his lips struggling to hold back his laughter, but he let out a chortle anyhow.

“What?” She looked at him, melting for the nth time that night at the sight of Alistair wearing a perfectly tailored black wool dinner suit and black trousers, slightly tapered. His white, crisp shirt adorned with exquisite emerald cufflinks and a plain black silk tie.

“Lino who?”

“Lino Villaventura. He is the best couturier in Brazil. Daring, absolutely inspiring. I’m crazy about him. And his clothes are unique and all handmade. The embroidery alone is so detailed and lovely.”

“Well, it’s certainly stunning. You are going to overshadow all the Hollywood stars.”

“And, as I was saying, well-bred women are never hot or cold. Our goal is to be beautiful. We don’t feel these mundane-”

His deep, masculine laughter filled the car. He looked at her, tried to speak but just put a hand on his flat abdomen, and laughed. He shook his head and struggled to compose himself, made a strange, strangled sound and burst into laughter again.

The more Alistair looked at Sophia’s astonished face, the more he felt like laughing. When did I laugh like this recently? The thought sobered him and he brushed his fingers over his eyes to dry the tears of laughter that had gathered there.

She watched him, completely enchanted and surprised, and she realized that he looked younger and less stern. Even though she had heard him laughing before, this was completely different. A light and special moment, he had unlocked the door to her heart. A door she thought would never open again.

Her thumb touched the corner of his mouth. “I love your laughter. It makes me want to laugh with you,” she whispered.

He smiled at her and turned his head to press a kiss on her palm. “Oh, Sophia. You’re too good to be true. Never cold? Never hot?” He chuckled, “No sweat either?” He exploded in another fit of laughter.

He was still chuckling when Garrick stopped next to the long green carpet leading into the Odeon cinema and a valet opened the door for them.

Sophia looked out and smiled at Alistair, “The rain has stopped.”

Odeon Cinema.

“Sophia!”

Sophia looked around for the voice that has just called her name. Oh. Not tonight.

“Ashford. How are you?” Alistair placed his arm around Sophia’s shoulders, trying to keep her out of his reach and held out his hand to shake Ethan’s.

“Fine, thank you. And you?” Ethan shook the outstretched hand and turned to Sophia, holding both her hands in his, kissing her cheeks. “You look beautiful, Sophia, darling. As always.” Hot, Sophia. You look hot in that barely there dress.

Sophia gazed into his beautiful azure eyes and smiled. “Hello, Ethan. You’re looking good, too.” Now, go away.

“You made a donation to Prince Charles’s Foundation?”

“No,” she said at the same time that Alistair spoke, “I did. Prince Charles is my father’s friend. And, of course, my bank contributes to many foundations.”

“Of course. Don’t we all, MacCraig?” Ethan smiled at Alistair, friendly. Take your hands off her.

Fuck off. Tonight she’s mine. “We should.”

Sophia watched the silent bantering between the men and smiled inside. She felt like a teenager again.

“I arrived yesterday from India. I opened another branch of Ashford Steel there. That country is really amazing, Sophia. You should go. I was reminded of you all the time. There are spectacular saris.” And the Taj Mahal. The most beautiful testament to love. If I could, I would build one for you.

“Yes, there are.” She smiled candidly at him, “I have a long love story with India and its saris. And Felipe - my brother, remember? He brought me a suitcase full of them when he went there last year.”

“Oh. You’ve been there.”

“Yes. Three times. I love India.”

Alistair seethed. Sophia has simply… forgotten me. He lightly squeezed her shoulder.

She looked at him with a bright smile on her face, “Have you ever been, Alistair?”

“No,” he bit out.

“Are you going to the after-party at the Sanderson Hotel, Sophia?”

“No, we are not, Ashford,” Alistair growled. “If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to introduce Sophia to some of my friends.”

“A pity. Well, it’s been a pleasure seeing you again, MacCraig.” Not you, you bastard. Just Sophia. Ethan turned to Sophia and gave her a broad smile, “Sophia, darling, you are the most beautiful woman here. You should have been given the leading role in the film.” You’re my leading lady.

Sophia laughed. “Ethan, Alice is blonde.”

“Not Alice, my darling. You, you should have been the Queen of Hearts.” As you are the queen of my heart.

Alistair turned, leading her away, not giving her a chance to kiss Ethan good-bye. She waved as she tried to keep up with Alistair’s long strides.

“Hey. Slow down,” she demanded.

He stopped for a second to keep his emotions under control. He gazed at her beautiful and gullible face. Control yourself, Alistair Connor. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Come. One of my best friends is just over there in the corner.”

They did some mingling and chatting with some of Alistair’s friends until Prince Charles and Camilla arrived.

Alistair glanced at Sophia. “Do you want me to introduce you to them?”

She shook her head and stared at the royal couple, musing, “I wish I could have met Princess Diana. His Royal Highness and the Duchess of Cornwall did only one good thing in their whole lives.”

As she didn’t elaborate, he asked, intrigued, “What was that?”

“They killed any possibility of fairy tales. They showed us what real life is.” She looked deep into his eyes and faked a toast, “Prince Charming is dead. Long live the ogre.”

He chuckled.

“And, please, this is a real ogre, not the dear Shrek.” Then her eyes lit and she giggled, bit her lip to contain the mirth, and whispered, “Have you ever wanted to be a woman’s tampon?”

He exploded in a full laugh, doubling over. He shook his head at her, his black hair swinging around his face and his forest-green eyes sparkling, “No, never,” he said between whoops of amusement. He breathed deeply, struggling to regain his composure. “That was gross,” he sniggered.

She smiled broadly, glancing at Camilla. “Can you imagine? Arg! Disgusting.”

He looked at her, grinning and murmured, “Maybe that’s how he gets his kicks.”

She put a hand in front of her eyes, dramatically, “God! Please, spare us.”

Another sniffle slipped out before Sophia could stop it.

Alistair took off his 3-D glasses to squint at the woman at his side. Is she crying? Crying because of a children’s story?

His warm, large hand rested over Sophia’s. She raised the 3-D glasses, brushed her tears away, and turned her head slightly to look at Alistair with a small smile on her lips.

He tilted his head toward her and squeezed her hand. Slowly, as if afraid of startling her, he rested his free arm on her shoulders, enveloping her with his strength. His hand caressed her arm, warming her through the flimsy material of her gown.

Even in the dark, she could see the emotions churning in his eyes as his tongue wetted his lips in a move so carnal she felt as if he had licked her.

Oh, man! You’re lusting over a woman who is crying over a children’s film? You have to get your head examined. Alistair turned his attention back to the film, his control hanging by a thread as his fingers toyed with the silky hair that fell over her shoulder.

At the end of the film, Sophia shuddered violently and quickly took off the 3-D glasses. She dropped her head and put her arms around her body.

Alistair startled and glanced at her, whispering, “Are you cold?”

No. I’m a stupid woman, who’s afraid of that blue butterfly on the screen. Still looking down, she shook her head, “No.”

“Are you okay?” He gently hugged her shoulders, worried.

The film ended and Sophia tentatively peeked at the screen. The butterfly disappeared and the credits started to appear. She breathed, relieved.

“Sophia?”

She smiled softly at him, “It’s nothing. Nothing.”

He studied her now smiling face and shrugged. As soon as the lights went on, he rose and stretched his hand for her, “Shall we?”

Gauthier Soho, The Chefs’ Room.

9.40 p.m.

She looked around as she stepped into the smallest room of the restaurant in one of the cellars. The room had an intimate atmosphere. The square table could seat up to four guests, but tonight it would only seat two.

“Cozy.” She looked up to gaze at his green eyes. “I’ve never dined here.”

“I hope you like it.” He discretely pushed the waiter aside and seated her himself, brushing his fingers over her hair as he retreated. “It’s closest to the heart of the restaurant since it’s near the kitchen.”

Another waiter approached, bringing the menus.

Alistair waved his away, “I want the baby squid, please.” He turned to Sophia. “May I suggest?”

“Sure.” She closed her menu and waited.

“There is an exceptional wild sea bass with white truffles,” said Alistair. “And you ought to have the raspberry mille-feuille or the dark chocolate mousse for dessert. They are both mouthwatering.”

“So, be it.” She handed her menu back to the waiter who confirmed their orders with Alistair.

Alistair stared at Sophia’s contemplative look. She seemed far away from this world. He took the time to observe her profile illuminated by the gentle light of the cellar. He couldn’t fathom her mood.

She is too unpredictable, swinging between despondency and happiness so quickly. Remote one minute and vibrant the next. So many contradictions in such a young woman. “Did you like the film?”

She blinked and looked at him as if she had forgotten he was beside her.

This is new. Another blow to my ego.

“Yes,” Sophia stepped down from the clouds, “yes, I did.”

“Why were you crying?” His hand traced her cheek.

“I cry easily,” she smiled sheepishly at him, “and a lot.”

“But what triggered your emotions?” He asked. “It’s only a film.”

“Maybe. But it’s as profound as that rabbit hole Alice falls into. And it’s so artfully done. Children won’t understand half of what Burton put in it. Well, I don’t think it’s made for them to get everything anyway.” She sighed and rubbed a hand over her heart as if it hurt. “Everyone manipulates Alice’s life as they want. Then her own dream crashes and burns, but she still struggles to survive in a land she doesn’t understand, where she feels alone. Everyone wants to boss her around until she decides that harnessing her own dream - her life - and keeping it under a tight leash leads to happiness. There’s no room for laziness or mistakes, unless she wants to go crazy or,” she smiled, “be beheaded.”

“I see.” So that’s how she feels. That her life has crashed and burned. But… Doesn’t she like being ordered around? “How is your house renovation going?”

Sophia flung an arm over her eyes and moaned. “Don’t ask me about it!”

“Well…” He looked confused.

She laughed, “I’m joking.” And she launched into an explanation about the refurbishment and the implementation of her ideas, captivating Alistair with her passionate words and her pride in her siblings’ work.

The topic changed and it was Sophia’s turn to sit, mesmerized, while Alistair talked about his work at the bank, with the horses, and his father. She felt as if he caressed her each time his deep and masculine voice said her name. He had plenty of stories to tell about his childhood and Craigdale Castle, where he lived with his parents until he moved to Oxford.

The waiter approached the table. “Excuse me, would you like any dessert?”

Sophia stared at Alistair. “I will have what you suggested earlier. We can have both and share them. What do you think?” She licked her lips in anticipation. “I love creamy, rich desserts.”

Deliver me. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “We will have the raspberry mille-feuille and the dark chocolate mousse. To share,” he informed the waiter in a throaty voice.

“Thank you, sir.” He entered their order on his PDA and served them more of the Bordeaux wine Alistair had chosen, Château Pape-Clément. “Would you like another bottle, sir?”

Alistair shook his head, “No, thank you. I’d like to choose a dessert wine.”

A few minutes later, Sophia dipped her spoon in an impossibly soft chocolate mousse. Her eyes shone like a child who had just received her most treasured toy.

He stared at her, hypnotized, his eyes greedily following the movement of her hands and mouth. He almost asked her not to eat it.

Christ! He inhaled deeply and shifted on his seat as she closed her lips around the spoon, her eyes shut with an expression of pleasure so blatant he pictured her in bed, lapping up his erection, her head bobbing up and down, her lips stretched to accommodate his wide girth. His body reacted immediately. He fisted his hands, struggling with his raging desire.

“Good?” He didn’t recognize his voice so hoarse it was. He cleared his throat. Again.

“Open your mouth,” she commanded.

Gladly, but it is not the dessert I want. And this time he pictured himself going down on her, teasing and licking and sucking until she screamed and begged for him to finish her. But he complied and did as she asked and she put a spoonful of chocolate mousse between his lips. He clamped it between his teeth for a second staring at her with flaming green eyes, pinning her with his glare. I want you.

Sophia almost jumped out of her chair, surprised by the intensity of the desire swirling in his gaze. You cannot play with fire and come away unscathed, Sophia.

Palace Gardens Terrace.

Friday, February 26th, 2010.

1.05 a.m.

The mirror reflected Alistair’s taut body under the shower. His head was thrown back. His eyes were squeezed shut as he fisted his stiff arousal and remembered Sophia’s stunning body in his arms. His left hand moved almost violently, working the rigid flesh. He licked his lips and grunted as his body tensed. He pumped faster and his muscles bulged, his stomach tightened. He gasped as the pleasure built when he imagined Sophia going down on him, sucking, licking his erection, and he tightened his hold on himself and quickened the pace. Alistair put his right hand on the wall, steadying himself as an almost painful orgasm exploded through his body. With a loud groan, he came heavily, his semen spilling on the marbled floor, mingling with the water, and going down the drain.

He stayed there under the hot water for several minutes, his body shaking from the pleasure and intense release.

Fuck. How will I feel when Sophia and I do it?

Chapter 13

Essex, Saffron Walden. Galewick Hall.

Friday, February 26th, 2010.

Late afternoon.

Sophia and Gabriela arrived late at Leonard’s country house. When she entered the reception room, she immediately noticed Alistair sitting at the shadowed end of the room.

Seems he likes dark places no matter where he is.

Immediately Gabriela squeaked and jumped from her mother’s arms and ran in Alistair’s direction. Sophia marveled as Alistair’s face split in a wonderful grin and he pushed off his seat to pick her daughter up.

When Leonard greeted her, Sophia scowled and whispered to him, “You didn’t tell me he would be here. You set me up. And worse, by manipulating a little girl’s desire.”

“I didn’t.” He gave an impish smile. “I know you have been seeing him. Are you displeased?”

“No, of course not.” She shook her head lightly. “If you didn’t, who did? It’s obvious this is a plot.”

“Don’t tell them I told you,” he whispered back. “It was Alistair’s idea with Alice’s help.”

“Leonard! Sophia! What are the two of you gossiping about like two old maids?” Alice came to greet her, “Hello, my dear. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Alice. How are you?”

“Not bad, not bad.” Alice looked down as an excited Gabriela approached.

“Alice, where is Ariadne? She asked me to bring my DS and some new games.”

Alice smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm. “Come, I’ll take you to her. She’s outside with Michael.”

After dinner, the adults moved to the library.

What a perfect weekend for more intimacy. No more stolen kisses, Sophia. You’re in for it. Alistair sat next to Sophia on the sofa. He spread an arm behind her shoulders and felt exultant when she relaxed into his embrace.

Immediately, his body reacted to the attraction that sparkled between them. He’d spent almost two hours that morning between the treadmill and the pool. But it did nothing to diminish the sexual frustration that tied his body in knots.

Leonard smiled at him, noting the look on his face and turned to Sophia. “Sophia, you will have to start learning Scots and Scottish Gaelic. It will add to your curriculum and help you understand Alistair.”

Sophia looked at Alistair, who shrugged. “I can understand Alistair perfectly well.”

Leonard gave them his angelic smile. “When he gets nervous or excited, he doesn’t speak English but an entire different language I’ve never managed to fully understand.”

“Come on, Leonard, don’t tease. She’s going to think I’m a heathen,” Alistair answered at the same time Sophia said, laughing, “Don’t you think I’ll understand him?”

“I can guarantee you won’t.” His angelic smile still in place, he turned to Alistair. “She thinks that because she knows several languages she will understand your heathen dialect.”

“Several?” Alistair asked. “I’ve noticed that she can read in four languages, but several?” He looked at her. “How many?”

Her turn to shrug.

“She is too modest, Alistair. Seven, isn’t it?” Leonard counted on his fingers, “Portuguese, Spanish, Italian, English, French, German, and… What’s the other one?”

“Eight, Leonard.” She made a face. “But I don’t speak Hebrew and Latin as fluently as the others. I can only read and write.”

“Hebrew?” Domitila, Leonard’s sister, frowned at her.

“Gabriel was Jewish, so is Gabriela.”

“Indeed,” Alistair murmured, “Leibowitz. Are you also Jewish?”

“I don’t really profess a religion. I was baptized in the Catholic Church. I converted to Judaism to marry Gabriel. Not that he minded our different religions, but I did it anyway. However…” She bit her lip as she tried to express her thoughts. “I believe in something bigger. There’s no need for labels to do good deeds or accept God. Any name for it will do as long it brings peace.”

“I see.” He nodded, struggling to figure her out. “Where did you learn so many languages?”

“I studied in a British school that had Spanish as a second language, besides, of course, Portuguese. At home, we had a French governess. I also studied for a time at a boarding school in Lausanne. They had regular courses in French, German, and Italian.” She smiled, fond of the memories, “I loved it. It was funny. They offered classic literature, Greek and Roman mythology, piano, Cordon Bleu Cuisine, skiing, riding, and fencing classes. I did it all. They distracted me from…” Her voice waned.

He enveloped her hand between his. “From?”

“My parents had passed away two months before.” Her eyes reflected her sorrow.

“I’m sorry.” His low murmur conveying his sympathy and he squeezed her hand. “How did they die?”

“In a car crash the day before Christmas Eve while on the way to our house in Angra dos Reis. My grandparents, my siblings, and I were already there but my parents had stayed in Rio because my father had a meeting with some new clients. A car driven by a young buck hit them. It was dark and pouring; the road was slippery and in a bad state. Their car rolled down a cliff. The guy fled. Their bodies were so damaged we had to have a closed casket service.” She looked down at their joined hands and entwined her fingers in his. “It was a very long time ago but I remember as if it happened yesterday.”

Because Alistair knew she was an orphan, he thought he could handle hearing her speak about her loss. He couldn’t. Something inside his chest clenched at the thought of the little Sophia hurting so badly.

“Jesus!” Domitila was taken aback. “Didn’t you sue him?” Andrew put an arm over her shoulders and squeezed.

“My grandparents sued the guy, to no avail. He was underage and his father was extremely rich and influential. You know the drill… We settled for an agreement. We received money, but money doesn’t lessen a pain like that.” She shrugged and gave her a sad smile.

He gently squeezed her hand.

“How old were you when they died?” Alice asked, softly.

“Ten. Carolina was seven. However, the impact of their death was worse on Felipe. He was sixteen and had passed the exam to begin engineering college the following year. He wanted to work with my father. Three of my grandparents were alive then. Together they moved in to this penthouse apartment to raise us. Both parents were only children. I think that’s why they had so many kids.” She grinned at Alistair. “They said the twins weren’t expected and Carol was supposed to be their last child. The girls were so pampered. And still are very spoiled.”

She took out her phone from her jacket inner pocket and scrolled for photos of her family. “Here, look. I have some recent photos of my siblings. Felipe, the eldest.” She showed the screen to him. “He is my twin. We were born on the same day of the same month, six years apart. I try to speak with him at least once a week, but we are so close that we don’t really need words.” The love she felt for her brother showed in her voice.

The photo - Felipe and Sophia standing on the bow of his yacht - was taken during her last visit to Brazil.

“He does look very much like you. Impressive. The only difference is the lock of white hair. It’s unusual.” He tilted his head to the side, analyzing the photo.

Leonard came to stand behind them. “Let me see, Alistair.”

He passed her mobile to his brother-in-law. Alice strolled to her husband’s side. “Oh, my, Sophia!” she exclaimed. “He looks like a model. He’s gorgeous. Look at this face, this tanned skin and-wow,” she sighed, dramatically, “this body!”

Domitila came to look and whistled. Andrew smiled from his place on the sofa, not at all concerned.

Leonard elbowed Alice in the ribs. “Hey! Behave yourself.” His angelic smile slashed his face. “I must say! His twin is gorgeous, too.” He wiggled his brows at Sophia, who had turned sideways on the sofa and looked up at them.

She immediately flushed and snatched her phone from his hand. “Give it back to me.”

Leonard laughed.

Why didn’t I choose another photo?

Alistair chuckled beside her. “Show me your sisters.”

Sophia chose more carefully this time. No one in bikinis or trunks.

“These are Carolina, and Victoria and Valentina, the youngest.” She pointed them out. “And Felipe, of course.”

Alistair took the phone from her hand and stared at it for a long time. “You were happier here,” he noticed, looking at her.

“Gabriel was still alive,” she murmured.

Gabriel. Always Gabriel. His eyes flickered with some unreadable emotion and he turned them back to the photo, his finger on the edge of the screen. “May I?”

“Sure. Go on.”

Domitila tapped Alistair’s shoulder. “Hey, big guy, don’t hog it. We want to see, too.”

“This white lock is so charming,” said Alice from behind, not seeing the photo Sophia had just shown Alistair, his broad shoulders concealed her iPhone. “Women must throw themselves at his feet.”

How ironic. “Women have lusted over Felipe since he was young.” Sophia lips curled upwards a little, in a cynical grimace. “After he was given this lock, they seemed to desire him even more.”

“Given?” Alice asked from behind, puzzled.

Alistair paused and his green eyes swung to her face, fascinated by the sudden change in her mood. Again. So volatile.

“The lock… It started growing sometime after his wife Renata died in a car crash when he was almost killed, too. A truck hit their car. She died instantly. He was in hospital for eight days in an induced coma because of the swelling in his brain. Fortunately, there was no permanent damage other than a scar on the left side of his forehead and eyebrow. At least,” she breathed, “no physical damage.”

The room went silent as they waited for her to continue.

“He was driving.” Her shrug was almost a shiver. “Although the accident was not his fault, he still feels guilty. It runs in the family, you know.” This time, she did shudder.

“What runs in your family?” Alice asked in a low voice.

Sophia rose from the sofa, went to glass doors that opened onto the gardens, and looked outside, not really seeing the beautiful illuminated lawn. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her flared jeans.

“We have an obligation to feel guilty.” The words came out of her lips as if she were reciting an elegy. “Guilty. Because we kill the ones we love.” She stood there trying to control her tears, but sorrow had already taken hold of her. “Excuse me,” she said in a strangled voice without looking back and strolled out to the gardens, not daring to turn to close the door.

Alice stood there, transfixed, looking at her husband. “Jesus!” she mumbled. “Shall I go after her?”

“You didn’t know, Alice.” Alistair was already standing. He turned Sophia’s iPhone off, and put it in his back pocket. “Stay here. I’ll bring her back.”

Strong hands rested softly on her shoulders. Sophia raised her head from her hands. He stood in front of her, his overcoat draped over his arm.

“Here,” he spoke softly, “put this on.”

Sophia brushed away her tears and obediently put the coat on. It covered her down to her toes.

“A great man said,” he murmured, “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.”

“Nietzsche died insane, you know?” she replied, as she took the handkerchief he held out to her. “We have a tragic vein in our family. Felipe, Carolina, and I insisted that my parents come to Angra that evening, contrary to my father’s wish to arrive the next day. Felipe was driving the car when Renata died. And I-I must have done something very wrong to ensure Gabriel’s death.” The laugh she let out chilled him. “We’re cursed.”

“There’s no such thing,” he murmured. “I know your pain, Sophia. Even your guilt.”

She shook her head fiercely. “I was a coward. Gabriel was killed because I wasn’t brave enough to face life and do what I should have done.” She turned to look at him. “I’m the one who should be dead. Me, not him.”

“I forbid you to say that,” he ordered, putting two fingers on her lips and gazing into her eyes. Even in the dim light, he could see the fierce pain that shimmered inside them. Nevertheless, he could understand what she was going through. Because of my tactless actions, Heather vented her anger crazily driving with Nathalie sleeping unbuckled on the front seat.

Alistair pulled Sophia into his arms and put a hand on her nape, making her rest her head on his chest. “It’s okay, Beauty. Everything will be okay.”

She listened to the beat of his heart; his caresses on her hair soothed her distress.

“Beauty?” Sophia lifted her face to stare at him, frowning.

He smiled widely at her. “This is my nickname for you.”

She laughed. “I might be pretty, but I’m no beauty.”

“Don’t you have a mirror at home?” he asked bemused.

“Oh, come on.” She huffed and ticked away the reasons for her statement on her left fingers. “I’m not tall; I’m not thin; I don’t walk in that way beautiful, fashionable women do; my hair doesn’t have highlights or anything stylish and it’s too long and too black; my eyes are big and an absolutely common brown. I could continue, but, in general, I am an average woman.”

“You’re either blind, in dire need of glasses, or want compliments.” He stroked her hair, feeling its softness beneath his fingers. “Your hair is gorgeous; silky and shiny, not harsh or rusty with highlights or dyes, long enough for a man to picture your body covered only by it and a tiny leather skirt. You have the perfect height, not too short, not too tall; your skin is like a peach and your body is amazing-”

“My body?” She looked surprised. “You haven’t seen my body.”

“Oh, I have. At the pool, last time we were here. In that blue–and-white Brazilian bikini.” His eyes were twinkling.

She blinked. “You still remember it.”

“I do. As I remember the feel of your body, of you, virtually naked in my arms.”

Sophia flushed.

And he chuckled, “I wouldn’t have picked you for a shy woman.”

“I’m not usually shy,” she whispered.

His hands wandered over her shoulders and neck until they reached her face. “And your face. Your face is astonishing. No need for makeup. The color of your skin,” and his fingers ran a light path on her cheek, “and the feel of it.” The tip of his long finger ran over the top of her nose, “Your nose, so straight and elegant.”

Sophia stood mesmerized by his words. And he continued, his emerald gaze made love to her face and his deep voice caused desire to run through her veins. “Your eyes. Your expressive eyes, they have such an unusual color. I can’t decide if they’re like golden honey or yellow diamonds. I think they reflect your feelings turning light or dark. They sparkle so much they make the stars look dimmer. And, last but not least, your mouth. Your mouth is a whole different story.” His thumb caressed it. “It puts Angelina Jolie to shame. Lush, dewy, naturally dark red, perfectly drawn, not overly plump. And the way you bite your full bottom lip.” His tone deepened. “If I could kiss you, not a stolen and quick kiss, but really kiss you, I would spend a whole day just worshipping your mouth. Then another full day, making love to you.” He paused and stared at her, his eyes burrowing into hers. “Shall I?” He asked, his hands cupping her face.

Leonard’s right. He has a strong accent. “Shall you what?” she whispered, totally unaware of her parted lips and uneven breath. His eyes and voice had hypnotized her. She shook her head slowly, as if to break the spell that ensnared her.

“Shall I kiss you, really kiss you?” He lowered his head, his thumb caressing her mouth. Time to test the waters once more.

“Kiss me?” She asked breathlessly.

He lowered his head an inch more. One hand held her nape, tilting her head toward his, the other meandering to her waist to hold her where he wanted. His green eyes gleamed with yearning.

“Aye, kiss you.”

Alistair was crazy with desire for a woman without a clue of her exquisite beauty. How can such a wonderful creature not know her power? Maybe her true beauty rests on her obliviousness to the effect she has on men around her.

His head lowered of its own volition, his mouth finding hers, just a feathery touch.

So soft. The force of his need made him close his eyes and haul her body onto his. His tongue glided over her lips. Thirty-five days. For thirty-five days I’ve been waiting to do this again.

He licked her bottom lip and lightly nibbled it. He listened to her sharp intake of breath. And he heard a moan. His.

He slanted his head and deepened the kiss. He felt her hands tentatively touch his waist and go around his back.

It’s too much. It’s too little. I want more. His tongue touched the seam of her lips, firmly and smoothly probing for entrance.

Her hand clutched his waist and she opened her lips, the tip of her tongue meeting his. She raked her nails on his back.

His desire exploded in his body. He hardened even more and pulled her fiercely to him, molding her entirely to him. I’m on fire. I’m going to spontaneously combust.

She tasted of fresh honey. She smelled of spring, of white roses in bloom sprinkled with orange juice. Sophia reminded him of a garden. And he wanted to taste all of her.

Alistair opened his eyes, breaking the kiss to look at her. A vision of paradise. Head thrown back, blood-red lips parted, and her eyes opened to look at him. They were the color of yellow diamonds. He had never seen eyes change color like that.

She breathed heavily, her breasts stroking his chest.

He couldn’t resist the temptation. And dropped his head again, being bolder this time.

Sophia didn’t refuse his entering. She met desire with desire. His kisses drove her crazy. She tangled a hand in his silky, long hair, pulling him closer, her body melting on his.

Oh, my, this is too good. She moaned low in her throat.

Alistair gripped her rump and pressed her flush to his erection. Sophia startled as she acknowledged the passion in him and gasped in his mouth. Her nipples were aching for his touch and, as if he knew it, his hand cupped the fullness of one of her breasts over her clothes and his thumb circled a nipple over her clothes.

His other hand roamed under her turtleneck sweater. I’ve touched heaven. “Sophia,” he moaned. This is pure bliss. Her skin was smooth, like velvet. His hand caressed her waist and roamed up to find her bra.

Sophia broke the kiss, panting when his fingers hovered over the lacy bra to find her breast. Her hand gripped his wrist. “Stop, Alistair. Please,” she whispered and withdrew from his embrace.

He stood there a few seconds gazing at her trying to gauge her reaction. What have I done wrong?

She moved to sit on a bench that circled a huge tree, putting her feet under her legs and leaning her head on its trunk, her eyes closed. He faced her and sat close. Their knees touched and he tucked a lock of her endless hair behind her ear, enjoying the silky touch of it. “Did I scare you?”

She seemed so vulnerable, huddled on the seat. Unable to resist, he rested his palm against her cheek. She pressed her face onto his hand. Alistair froze at the intimate movement, at the gesture of trust, of her seeking comfort from him. It’s been so long since anyone’s reached out for me like this. So gently. Such innocence, such need. Slowly he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. For a long moment, he didn’t move. He just closed his eyes and reveled in the taste of her skin. A sweetness that made him want to drop his head and kiss her again. To feel her tongue against mine. To taste-

Her voice broke his line of thought. “No- Yes- I don’t know,” she stammered in a husky answer.

“Well, which?” He smiled gently. “Yes or no?”

“Yes, you did.” She breathed deep, trying to steady her heart. “Too soon, too much.” Her breaths coming quickly. She bet he could hear her heart beating.

After a moment of complete silence, Alistair broke the tension. “Sophia, I didn’t mean to.”

“Um-hmm.” Why isn’t he panting?

He looked at her, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, it’s just… I’m not used to things going this fast. We only started going out a few days ago…”

“You’re right. We have been dating for a few days.” Here we go. A relationship. For now.

“Dating?” she squealed.

His smile broadened. “Dating,” he repeated. “However, we’ve been attracted, even before the day I took you out to dinner.”

“Before?” Her breaths were calmer now, but the desire still raged in her body. If she could, she’d jump him right then and there.

“Come on, Sophia. Don’t tell me I was the only one affected.” If I want to fuck her, I have to accept her terms. And he smiled, remembering her words at the bank meeting. “That day you entered the meeting room at the bank, January nineteenth, my world turned upside down and it still hasn’t righted itself,” he chuckled. “I doubt it will any time soon.”

She sat there looking at him. Oh! But the man knows just what to say. He remembered the exact date we first met. “Well, I’m lying if I were to say I wasn’t affected, as well. Still, Alistair, I don’t usually make out with a man I barely know.” She smiled to soften the statement.

“So, I’m a stranger?” He smiled back. “I will have to amend this. Promptly.” He stood and picked her up grabbing her upper arms, lifting her as if she were a feather. “Let’s go. Your lessons start now.”

“My lessons? With you?” She looked as if she wanted to run away.

He smiled, shaking his head, “Worse. With Leonard.” He started to walk back to the house. “After an hour with him, you won’t think me a stranger anymore.”

She eyed him confused.

He laughed. “That SOB can destroy anyone’s reputation in five minutes with that angelic smile of his. I will be grateful if you don’t run away after he finishes.”

“So you have dark secrets?” She blinked. “And you want me to know them all?” What a strange wish. Careful, Sophia.

“Aye,” he grinned at her and laced their fingers. “That way you won’t be able to use that excuse to stop me again by saying I’m ‘a man you barely know.’”

Alistair stole a peek at her. Although accustomed to towering over women, with Sophia he believed he would be just her ideal height. Whether standing, sitting, on his knees, on the bed -everywhere - doing everything, no problem whatsoever.

They were laughing when they entered the library.

Alice breathed relieved and looked at her husband.

Leonard nodded, smiling, and whispered, “I knew Alistair would be able to soothe her. The sparks of attraction are in their eyes. Hmm… I just hope she doesn’t waver from her path. It’s Alistair’s chance to be saved.”

“Still, I have to set things straight with her. I’ll apologize later,” she whispered back.

“Do it if you want to, but I don’t think she’s upset anymore. It was a good thing that Ashford messed things up with her, Alice. Not that I don’t like him. But I like this brother of yours more.” He sighed softly, “Alistair deserves some happiness. Sophia is the right woman for him.”

“Leo, I have a mission for you,” Alistair said as he neared. He pushed Sophia lightly in Leonard’s direction.

“Hey, your accent is showing. See what I told you, Sophia? In a few minutes, you won’t be able to understand a word of what he says.”

“Pay attention, Leonard,” Alistair ordered.

“Very well,” he acquiesced. “What’s the mission?”

“Sophia thinks I’m a stranger, a man she barely knows.”

“I didn’t mean it that way-”

“Your words, lass,” he tossed back, his accent increasing. “So, Leo, tell her aw you ken aboot me.”

“God!” Sophia said drolly. “Does Alice speak like that too?”

“She does,” Leonard laughed.

“I do not.”

He grinned, not bothering to answer. “It’s a heathen mixture of Scots words, English, and Scottish Gaelic drawl in a very strong accent.” Leonard rubbed his hands, grinning angelically. “You’re sure, Alistair?”

“Ach! Aye, verra sure.” He joked and winked at Sophia. “Next time she won’t use this excuse.”

“Next time? Excuse for what?” Alice asked.

Sophia flushed. A deep laugh bubbled from Alistair’s chest and he looked at Sophia with a wolfish smile. “It’s a secret, Alice. Don’t be nosy.”

“Come on, Sophia.” Leonard rubbed his hands and pulled her toward the sofa; she went along, sitting beside him. She thought it comical the way Leonard enjoyed this.

“Hey, he’s my brother,” Alice said. “Take care what you’re going to gossip about or you’ll sleep in the stables.”

“Alice, I’m more afraid of what Sophia can do to me if I don’t enlighten her about this jerk of a brother-in-law than of your threats.”

“Can I help destroy your reputation too?” Andrew asked Alistair.

Alistair smiled and answered, “Nae! Aw is tuilled ‘s a’ chòir.”

Sophia looked at Andrew, “What did he say?”

“Sophia,” Andrew chuckled, “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“He said that one is more than enough,” Alice explained. “Our nanny was a fierce Highlander and she only spoke Gaelic with us.”

“How are you able to understand them?” Sophia asked, astonished.

“Practice,” Leonard replied and shrugged. “And sometimes I don’t. When this happens, I just say to Alice, ‘Yes, my love’ or ‘Of course, my flower’ and she calms down.”

“Ah! You…” Alice hurled a cushion at Leonard. He caught the cushion in his hands, throwing his head back in a happy laugh.

“Alice,” Alistair dragged Alice with him to another sofa, “while Leo discloses to Sophia all of my dark secrets,” he stared at Sophia, his eyes blistered with the desire that consumed his insides and he threatened, “you can tell me all the gossip your husband told you about the bonnie lass.”

Now it was time for Sophia to laugh. “No dark secrets in my past,” she retorted.

Then her eyes darkened and a strange look transformed her face, a completely different woman appeared in front of them. A dark avenging angel. “At least, none that he knows.”

Salisbury Plain, Stonehenge.

Saturday, February 27th, 2010.

07.45 a.m.

“Wait, Sophia,” Alistair gripped her hand. “Wait for Munro to let you out. The propeller is quite dangerous.”

Sophia smiled at his protectiveness, “I’m used to it, Alistair.” She opened the door and jumped graciously out of his EC145 Mercedes-Benz helicopter. Somehow Alistair managed to buy it before its May unveiling at the Geneva Business Aviation Convention and Exposition.

“Your mother is quite stubborn, isn’t she, Fairy?” He shook his head, aggravated, and unbuckled Gabriela’s harness.

“No, she is not,” Gabriela answered immediately. “She’s courageous and wise. Not stubborn.”

Alistair smiled at the child’s prompt defense of her mother and picked the little girl up in his arms. “Ready for some mystery, Fairy?”

“Yes,” she smiled at him. “I love legends and mysteries.”

Garrick drove them to Stonehenge. Inside the circle, a uniformed guide escorted them on a private tour inside the circle.

“Do you know who King Arthur was, Gabriela?” Alistair watched her little face and she nodded. “So, according to legend, a long, long time ago, there was a very ugly war here between the British and the Saxons. The Saxons killed lots of English soldiers and buried them in Salisbury Plain.”

“Poor guys.” Gabriela listened with rapt attention. “And?” she asked eagerly.

“King Aurelius Ambrosius, Arthur’s uncle, wanted to build a monument to the slain soldiers. A big one, to represent their bravery. So he enlisted the help of Merlin, the wizard, who told him about an existing stone circle in Ireland. King Aurelius sent his brother, Uther Pendragon, and Merlin to the Giants’ Dance which is on Mount Killaraus in Ireland.”

“What is the Giants’ Dance?”

“These stones,” he motioned his hand to the enormous monument, “they were giants who were turned into stone for celebrating the Sabbath.”

“Why?” The little girl frowned at him, confused, “the Shabbat is sacred.”

Alistair smiled at her and put a curl of blonde hair, which the cold wind blew out of her ponytail, behind her ear. “It’s the Sabbath, not the Shabbat. They were celebrating a pagan god.”

“Oh.”

“So Merlin magically transported them on smooth winds and reset the stones here. There. Magic, you see.” Alistair struggled to restore order to his strands falling over his eyes because of the wind.

“I told you,” Gabriela thrust her little fingers in his hair, keeping it away from his eyes, “you have to cut your hair.”

The sun rose above the horizon painting the monument and the ground with yellow, orange, and pink hues.

Sophia breathed in the frigid morning air, the perfect interaction between Gabriela and Alistair scaring the hell out of her. Is this for real?

Chapter 14

10.26 a.m.

The early morning wind had waned into a soft breeze that still tousled Alistair’s long black hair, toying with it. Some bangs fell over his forehead and eyes. Sophia lifted her hand to touch the silky strands, brushing them to uncover his eyes.

“I have to cut it, as Gabriela keeps reminding me,” he smiled.

“You know, Gabriela may think your hair is too long, but I like it this way. Don’t ever cut it short,” she ordered lightly.

Alistair nodded. “I won’t,” and he wound his left fingers in her very long hair until he held a fistful at her nape, “as long you keep yours like this.”

“Done,” she grinned, a mischievous look entering her eyes. “Your hair, it is… savage, long. Rebellious. Apart from your eyes-your beautiful, wondrous eyes,” she sighed, enchanted, “it’s this cut that gives away the… barbarian inside you.”

He blinked, startled.

She entwined her fingers in it and pulled his head down. “It reminds me of the legend of Highlander warriors. No control over emotions… Fierce, courageous men, a battle cry on their lips.”

“Legend? We’re not a legend.” And his hand brushed her hair back, exposing her throat. “You like barbarians? Savages?” He raised his eyebrow as his fingers caressed the column of her neck. Oh, Sophia, what I could do to you.

“I like intense men,” she whispered.

She breathed and parted her lips, nervously wetting them with the tip of her tongue.

It was everything he needed. He took full advantage of her opened lips, touching her mouth with a feathery kiss, his tongue meeting hers.

Melting on his body, her elegant hands, light and delicate, tangled in his hair.

He stood there for a moment, simply enjoying her taste and smell. Her tentative touch on his nape undid him.

His hands went down to her waist, so slim. He jerked her to his body, pressing her to him and devouring her mouth. He thrust his tongue deep, mimicking what he wanted to do with his body. His pulse fiercely pounded in his ears, his erection grew painfully hard.

Sophia broke the kiss, panting, “Gabriela-” Her eyes were burning light yellow with a multitude of emotions: desire, worry, fear.

Alistair looked over his shoulder at the little girl bundled on his overcoat on the grass. “She’s sleeping.” And once more dropped his head to kiss her. Her taste was like a drug he wanted to be addicted to.

All thoughts flew away as their tongues danced and he felt her pliant body leaning heavily against his hard, chiseled form. Her scent branded him. A hand pulled her even closer, wandered her back, cupped her butt, while the other sought the skin under her sweater. They gasped in each other’s mouths when his hand touched her waist and his fingers skimmed up the line of her spine. She arched on his chest, panting.

“So soft, Sophia,” he breathed and his mouth glided over her jaw to her ear and he bit her earlobe, sucking it into his mouth.

A shot of pure, undeniable lust whipped through Sophia’s body and she flexed her stomach on his erection, completely lost in his caresses. His feathery touch climbed up her body to intimately cup her breast encased in a skimpy lace bra and he circled his thumb over her nipple, reveling the low moan that escaped her throat.

A fierce hunger is threatening to consume us and we are in the open, a few feet away from Gabriela. Her hand stayed his and she scowled at him. “Too much. Too fast,” she managed to say, between heaves. “Besides, we’re in a public park.”

He looked at her, dark forest-green eyes glazed with need, “I’m sorry. You make me forget where I am.” His accent thickened and made his English nearly incomprehensible.

She rested her forehead on his chest, trying to control her breathing.

“Sophia,” he spoke her name assertively and his hand encircled her throat, a thumb lifting her chin. His eyes blistered with hot green flames. “You’re unraveling me. Are you doing it on purpose?”

“Unraveling you?” She looked up at his eyes, “I don’t know. I’m just being me.”

His hand stayed on her throat, not letting go.

I crave more, much more. I want all of her. I want her to be mine. With the last thought, a fierce anger took control of him. What is she doing to me?

Sophia glanced at his tightened face. Is he… angry? At me? Please, don’t be.

He looked down at her, scrutinizing her face for some telltale sign. Something that would make him angrier, but didn’t find any.

Steady, Alistair Connor. This is just lust.

He waited for her acquiescence, teeming with desire. An intense emotion unfurled as his sun peeked out from behind the dark clouds of his sky. Immediately, he shoved it down deep into his dark heart. He didn’t want to acknowledge it.

She’s just another woman.

He didn’t waste time when she lifted her head for another kiss, dropping his to meet her mouth with a searing kiss, pouring into her all his confusion about how she made him feel.

Feel? I don’t want to feel anymore. His hand removed her hair from the path his mouth traced from her ear to the base of her neck.

Moaning low in her throat, she gave him room.

His fingers tightened on her waist, pulling her against his frame and she gasped as she felt his growing erection print itself on her belly. He was definitely turned on. His hand tensed up on her butt, kneading it.

Sophia pulled away, panting and, stepping back, put a hand on his chest. This madness has to stop. Now.

He towed her to sit near Gabriela, leaning his back on a tree and nestling her between his firm thighs, an arm snaked around her, his erection pressed on her hip.

“I apologize.” His breathing was labored and his smile taut and crooked, “again.” Fuck. What are you apologizing for, Alistair Connor? “I find it difficult to deny myself the pleasure of having you in my arms, and when I have you where I want, all my thoughts and reasoning fly out the window.” He looked so serious. “I have to have you, Sophia,” his raspy velvet voice entreated, “or else I’ll become crazed.” He stroked his thumb over her silken lips. “This is torture.”

“Alistair, we’ve been going out for a week.” She fingered her hair, combing it. “You cannot expect me to go to bed with you after such a short time.”

“Why not?” he whispered roughly. “I’ve been aching for you since the day I met you. And I know you feel the same. We’re grown-ups and we both have been married. You know me.” His fingers caressed her neck and wandered down, pausing at the swell of her breast. “Let me know you,” he purred on her ear.

She took his hand and put it below her left breast, pressing it on her ribs. “Feel me, Alistair. Can you feel my heart?” How can I explain to him? “I do want you, but… we need to talk about what is happening between us.”

This doesn’t sound good. “What do you want to talk about, sweetheart?”

He didn’t want her rationalizing what was happening between them. Their attraction - magical, intense, and aggressive even - had nothing to do with reason.

“Things are going too fast between us. We have to slow down before they get out of hand. I need more time.”

“Slow down as in slow down?” Slow down? Is the woman a nun? Christ! This is a bad idea. He felt rejected. He felt denied. Never had a woman asked him to slow down. Does she want to destroy my ego?

“Is there another connotation to slow down?” She bit her lower lip.

“Slow. Down.” He released a breath and tugged her lip from her teeth. “You don’t know what you do to me, Sophia. I don’t know if I have enough control.”

“I understand this is difficult… I mean… I want you too, but I don’t want to rush things this time.” She stared at his taut, serious face.

A long silence ensued between them. Sophia watched as he schooled his features into his usual poker-faced look and hooded his eyes so she wouldn’t see the irritation in them.

Too late, Handsome. They have given you away. This intense inferno of yours. She licked her lips. “You okay?”

“Aye,” he expelled a long breath, “yes, I am.”

Sophia shook her head and shifted in his embrace to better look at his eyes. “The thing is… I don’t know if we should insist on this relationship. I’m not the kind of woman you’re used to. I don’t do one-night stands. I don’t have sex just for sex. I need something more than a hello-let’s-go-to-bed handshake to…” Make love? Sophia’s laugh echoed bitterly inside her. He simply wants to fuck you, Sophia. He doesn’t do relationships. She bit her lip and tapped her fingers on her thigh. I’m an idiot. Yes, you are, Sophia. An idiot.

He noticed her ticks. He remembered them well from that day at the pool. She’s nervous.

“I wonder if I-”

He lifted his hand and softly put his fingers on her mouth, interrupting her words. “Listen to me.” He shifted her to straddle his lap and his fingers curled under her chin to raise her face to him. “Slow down,” he repeated lowly and breathed deep, exhaling, deep in his thoughts.

Sophia waited, studying his handsome face. A quietness surrounded them and the only sounds she could hear were the chirps of the birds perched high on the tree he reclined on. His fingers absentmindedly caressed her lips while he looked into the distance, trying to decide what to say.

An almost pained breath escaped his lips and he softly conceded, “All right, Beauty, I’ll try to maintain a hold on my desire.” He kissed her, hugging her tightly, pressing her down onto his erection, “I desire you as I never did another woman.” His green gaze locked onto hers. “This is not normal behavior for me. I don’t usually do… I don’t do relationships, period.”

So, Edward is right. Sophia felt her heart tightening in her chest. She opened her lips and closed them again, insecure. “Well, I don’t do one-night stands,” she finally said. “So, this is the end-”

“Let me rephrase, then.” Alistair didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t do relationships.” His eyes flamed. “If this is what it takes for me to have you, I’ll abide by your rules. I want you.” A dark twist quickly curled his mouth and disappeared in a second but Sophia didn’t miss it. “And what I want, I get.”

Oh, please! Another Giulius Caesar. “We shall see, won’t we?”

“I didn’t expect you to be such a prude, Sophia. After all, you’re no longer a virgin.” He immediately regretted his words when she flinched.

“It’s not a question of prudishness. It’s simply that I…” It’s simply that I’m falling for you. It’s simply that fate has taken everything from me once. It’s simply that I’m too afraid to give in. Can you understand what I’ve been through? What I still fear? I doubt it. “Call me old-fashioned if you will, but this is how I am.” She bit her lip.

He put a finger on her lip, liberating it from her teeth, and his hand moved to her throat. “I’ll wait for you. I’ll try my hardest, Sophia. Believe me. Just don’t torment me for long.”

I’ll convince her. Perseverance, Alistair Connor. For now, I’ll let her have her way. For now.

In that moment, he decided to woo her slowly, drive her completely crazy with lust until she would come willingly, begging him to take her.

I will have total surrender. The hand on her throat flexed and narrowed his grip as a sudden rage took control of him. Fuck, how has she become so important to me?

Essex, Saffron Walden. Galewick Hall.

Sunday, February 28th, 2010.

11.48 a.m.

“Lord Ells?” With his perfect stiff posture, Chambers stood at the edge of the pool.

Alistair looked up from his place next to Sophia. “Yes, Chambers?”

“The Duke of Craigdale is on the line, my lord. His Grace says it’s important.”

Alistair lifted himself on his arms and vaulted out of the pool. “I’ll take it. Please, transfer the call,” he said, picking up a towel from a pile carefully placed by the pool and drying himself quickly before picking up the wireless receiver.

Sophia eyed Alistair with the phone in his hand, his brow creased.

“Father? Is something wrong?” Worry crept into his voice as he stepped toward the glass doors.

Alice glanced at Leonard, concerned.

“Don’t worry. It’s probably just one of the horses,” he hauled her into his arms.

“It could be something with Tavish Uilleam.”

“It’s okay, Alice,” Alistair’s deep voice soothed his sister. “Leo is right. Problems with the foals.” He sighed. “I’ll have to go up there again. Probably tomorrow or Tuesday.” He dived gracefully and his big, lean body glided underwater to Sophia’s side.

The perfect opportunity to broach the subject, Sophia. Go for it. “So… Lord Ells? Why?”

Leonard grinned his angelic smile at his brother-in-law then at Sophia. “This might be, Sophia, because your boyfriend is the Marquis of Ells, heir to the dukedom of Craigdale.”

“You never told me you were a peer,” Sophia looked to Alistair. Alistair’s face suddenly turned hard as granite.

“I’m not. My father is. Mine is a mere courtesy title,” he spoke dryly, “nothing of importance. ‘It’s not titles that honor men-’”

“‘But men that honor title,’” Sophia finished the quote for him. “Why do powerful men love to quote Machiavelli?”

“Because he wrote to help powerful men govern?” A ghost of a smile appeared on Alistair’s face. “The House of Medici and the city of Florence were great powers in Machiavelli’s time.”

“Would you prefer to be feared or loved, Lord Ells?”

He smiled crookedly at her, “You like quotes, don’t you? So, it’s as Machiavelli said, ‘It is best to be both feared and loved; however, if one cannot be both it is better to be feared than loved.’”

“I’d rather be loved. Only loved,” she whispered to him.

On the way back to London.

6.39 p.m.

“It’s impressive how Ariadne and Gabriela developed such a steady friendship,” Alistair commented as he sped past Leonard’s Range Rover, where Sophia’s daughter sat, waving and giggling with her new best friend.

“She is starting to adapt,” Sophia smiled, appreciative of Leonard’s and Alice’s efforts to make her and Gabriela feel at home. “Your sister is an angel.”

“Aye, right. More of a she-devil,” he snorted, teasing. “I was glad that she married young. Now, it’s Leo’s problem to tame her.”

Sophia laughed and let herself relax on the Z4’s plush leather seat, sighing contently, watching the pouring rain on the windshield. She toed off her shoes and froze as a sharp pain sliced through her head.

An icy chill ran through her spine and left her cold. Exactly as- The pain lessened, leaving an aching throb in her head. As what?

Her body stiffened and she fisted her hands so violently that her nails dug into her palms. What is it I’m supposed to remember? She looked at the man beside her, his powerful hands lightly steering the wheel.

Alistair’s left hand covered hers, “Relax, Beauty. You’re too tense.”

“I’m fine,” she whispered, studying his sharp profile, illuminated by the lights from the road.

He squeezed her hand and didn’t utter a word. His warm, large hand soothed her fears as his thumb caressed her inner wrist.

“You’re biting your lip and still staring,” he murmured, his gaze leaving the road to glance at her.

She laughed. “How do you know I’m biting my lips while you drive?”

He shrugged, still looking at her.

“Eyes on the road,” she ordered.

“You like to give orders, don’t you?” He smiled slowly, his rugged features transforming him into something otherworldly. His forest-green eyes blazed with power and heat. “I know because it’s you, Beauty. From the moment you entered that meeting room, I’ve breathed and felt nothing but you. You have me absurdly tuned to you. You,” he spoke the last word under his breath, almost to himself.

She chewed her bottom lip, nervously, as she pondered what she should say and decided he didn’t need an answer.

“So, what are we going to do tonight?”

“Nothing. Not tonight. I can’t,” her voice trembled.

“Why not?”

Sophia sank her teeth into her lip harder to control the sudden need to weep and sob. The pain in her head got worse and she put a hand on her temple.

His hand squeezed hers again and he peered at her pale face, “What is it, Sophia?” he asked tenderly. “Do you feel sick?”

“No.” She lowered her eyelids, hiding the pain inside her eyes. “I have a headache,” she whispered.

He yanked his hand from hers and stopped the car brusquely on the hard shoulder. He turned his body to look at her, narrowing his eyes, “Why are you lying?”

Alistair’s sensitivity startled Sophia.

“What are you going to do tonight, Sophia?” he pressed on.

“Nothing,” she bit her lip again and looked at her hands.

“So, why can’t we go out?”

“I don’t feel like going out.”

“You don’t. Feel like. Going out,” he bit out. “With me?” As she didn’t answer, he cupped her face in his hand. He breathed deep, his distrust vanishing at the sight of her forming tears, his thumbs drying them as he examined her features, searching for a clue, “Hush, don’t cry. What are you feeling, Sophia?”

Before she lost her courage, she blurted, “Tonight is the second anniversary of Gabriel’s kidnapping.”

Christ. What does one say to that? “I see,” he grazed his knuckles on her cheek, “I’m sorry, Sophia.” He pulled her into his arms, caressing her back, soothingly.

After a few minutes, he started the car again, pulling onto the road, looking straight ahead, his lips thinned in a harsh line. How I wish Heather had been like her.

Atwood House.

7.08 p.m.

Sophia rose from Gabriela’s bed and tenderly tucked the covers around her. She watched her daughter’s steady breathing. Oh, my angel, you look so much like your father.

She looked at Gabriel’s photo on the shelf and an immense sorrow took hold of her soul. Why did they take you away from me, my love? Her eyes filled with tears and she let them fall at last. I’ll always remember you, Gabriel. I promise I’ll keep you in my heart. Always.

She picked up her iPhone and called Felipe. Only her brother could understand her.

Leibowitz Oil Building.

Thursday, March 4th, 2010.

4.39 p.m.

Sophia’s cell phone vibrated. She looked at her lap and saw Alistair’s number again. She sighed at his third call of the day and her WhatsApp held nine unanswered messages. Her previous meeting had run into this one, she skipped lunch, and still she had no time to return his calls.

This meeting was lasting longer than expected. The whole board of this new client’s company was present and the CEO, Herr Müller, wanted to explain everything in detail.

She scrolled quickly through Alistair’s messages.

12:00: I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Just arrived. Miss you. Call me.

12:37: Sarah tells me you’re busy. Call me ASAP.

01:29: Still busy? I need to talk to you. Up for a quick lunch?

01:50: I’m getting hungry here. What’s the prob?

My God! The man is freaking out.

02:02: ‘Aren’t you going to have lunch? You don’t need to diet.

Sophia smiled at that and lifted her head as Herr Müller asked Edward something, who launched into an explanation about the company’s capability, its investment in the Tupi field in Brazil, and the expectations for the field.

She flicked her eyes down again.

02:17: I’ve ordered. I need sustenance.

02:41: You have to eat something. I like my hands full.

Unbidden, Sophia’s lips twisted, amused.

02:58: I’m really worried.

03:39: I’m coming over if you don’t text or call me back in 30 mins. Last chance.

Oh, God! How did I miss this? Sophia started to text him back when the intercom buzzed low in the room. She picked up the wireless receiver, “Yes?”

“Could you please come out of that room now that I’m here?” Alistair’s deep and low voice demanded.

Here? For real? Is he insane? “I’ll be there in a second. Please, ask Sarah to show you to my office,” she whispered and nudged Edward on the shin with the tip of her boot, she motioned that she needed a small break.

“Thank you so much,” Alistair mocked.

Sophia rose from her chair at the head of the table. “Excuse me, sirs. I’ll return in a minute.”

Every man at the table rose as she did. “Please, stay seated. Mr. Davidoff will continue the meeting.”

She almost ran from the meeting room to her office, waving Sarah’s apologies away. Alistair stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. He looked out at the view, his hands gripping one another behind his back, his spine stiff.

He spun on his heels when he heard the door opening. “What the hell is happening here, Sophia?” His green eyes scorched her through narrowed slits.

“Are you crazy?” She melted at his sight. How can I be angry with this god? He wore a black three-piece suit with a pristine white Egyptian cotton shirt and a perfectly knotted silk turquoise tie. “What are you doing here?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and took deliberately slow steps in her direction, taking full measure of her. She had plaited her hair in a stylish side French braid, adorned with small coral pins, draping it over her right shoulder. As his eyes wandered down, they widened, and he halted. “Your blouse,” he pointed.

“What?” She stopped mid-stride and looked down at the front of her black lace blouse. She extended her arms in front of her to see rips or dirt on the sleeves. “What?” She resumed her steps.

“It’s…” He had no words to describe her. Ethereal. Bohemian. Exquisite. Whatever! “It’s not appropriate.”

She stopped again, frowning, “Not appropriate? Why?”

“It’s…” He was speechless. He glared at her and squinted. “It’s… Makes you too desirable. It reveals everything.”

“You need glasses,” she snorted. “It’s just a trompe-l’oeil. It has a peach silk lining. The same color as my skin. You can’t see anything.”

His forehead creased and his ink-black eyebrows nearly formed a continuous line. “Still,” his gaze wandered lower as she walked in his direction and his cock awoke leaving him inarticulate and embarrassed. Bravo! It shouted, Bravo!

Her black knee-high, calfskin pencil skirt accompanied her black-laced leather boots with narrow heels. He advanced on her with one long stride, grabbed her by the nape and the butt, and hauled her onto his body.

“Never,” he breathed into her mouth, “ever wear these clothes again to work.” And slanting her head, he kissed her openmouthed, his tongue plunging between her lips.

Sophia gasped at the unexpected attack and gripped his biceps to balance herself. A rush of lust came over her with that sudden display of jealousy and possessiveness. She stood on her tiptoes and arched on his body, returning his kiss, thrusting her hands in his hair and grabbing it.

“On second thought,” he lifted his head an inch to stare at her eyes, “you can stay home. Davidoff is very competent.”

“Stay home?” A raspy laugh spilled from her throat. “Dream on. What are you doing here, Alistair?” she asked again.

“Why didn’t you call me back?” He looked troubled, horny, and totally delectable. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Sophia ran her hands over his strong neck and along his broad shoulders. “Around three thirty.”

“Almost five,” he scowled at her. “I have been trying to reach you since eleven o’clock this morning.”

“I was working,” she offered as an apology. “And I have to return to the meeting.”

“They can wait. I need to talk to you.” His eyes feasted on her; he couldn’t get enough. “Ten minutes.”

“Can you wait ten minutes? The meeting is ending. I won’t tarry.” Her fingers combed through his hair, loving the silky feel of it. “If you’re free, we could go to The Athenaeum and have tea, scones with Regents Park honey and,” she licked her lips, “Mmm, Honeycomb Marquis in…” she wiggled her brows at him and glanced at her Crazy Hours watch, “twenty minutes?”

“I’m always available for you, Sophia.” He inhaled a deep breath, his features relaxing. “I’ll wait.”

“Great.” She picked up the phone and directed Sarah to make the booking. “Do you want something? Water, coffee?”

“Just a book or a magazine.”

She grabbed his hand and towed him to the shelf behind her desk, “There.” She smiled and reached up to brush the back of her fingers over his jaw. “It won’t take longer than fifteen minutes. We’ve covered virtually everything.”

“Don’t linger,” he bent to kiss her lips lightly and tugged her braid, in a playful warning. “Or I’ll have to punish you.” His sensuous devilish smile slowly formed on his face and something dark and perilous glinted in his eyes.

“Hmm,” it was almost a moan. “I think I’ll be late, then.” What kind of punishment, Alistair Connor?

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Yes, by all means, do. His eyes flickered to the sofa. Big enough. He looked at his pink gold Audemars Piguet Royal Oak Chronograph watch and raised both devil-black brows at her, “You’re wasting time, Sophia.”

She whirled, looked over her shoulder at him, a curl on her lips, her big, clear eyes betraying her arousal, and exited the room as he hungrily stared at her gentle sway.

Alistair closed his BMW door and swooped her into his embrace, a cautious but intense look in his wonderful eyes. “I’ve been dying for you all day,” he breathed, “I’ve never needed anyone the way I do you.”

She blinked at the potent desire in his voice. His hands undid the first buttons of her blouse, one by one, the inferno of his green eyes burning her slowly with anticipation.

His fingers brushed over her neck and glided down to her collarbone. The warm air caressed the upper swell of her breasts encased only in a lacy bra as he brushed the material away and pulled her off the car seat onto his lap. “Just the thought of other men-”

She put a finger on his lips. “There are no other men.”

He twirled his tongue on her finger and sucked it into his mouth and Sophia’s breath hitched at the pure carnal feeling that washed over her body and gathered between her thighs.

“Only you,” she whispered. What is your problem, Sophia? You need more therapy sessions. You need to tell Dr. Kent about this. Why are you only attracted to jealous, neurotic, older men? Gabriel, then Ethan, and now Alistair. Sophia lost her line of thought as Alistair kissed her throat and glided his mouth to her breast.

He desperately needed to touch her. The insecurity that had been eating at him all day waned as jealousy loosened its grip on his soul and he felt Sophia’s body surrender to passion under his mouth.

He raised his eyelids to peer at her. “You’re so beautiful. I love looking at you.” His hand palmed her breast and she hissed in a breath full of passion. “I want all of you, Sophia. Let me make love to you.”

Make love… Her eyes closed for a moment before opening again, those beautiful, clear yellow eyes mesmerized by him.

Garrick’s voice interrupted them, “Mr. MacCraig, we’ll arrive at our destination in a minute.”

Sophia scrambled back on the seat, away from Alistair, an alarmed look on her face. “Can he hear us?” She fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, struggling to redo them hastily.

“No, of course not, Sophia,” he scowled.

“So, he knows what we’re up to back here?” She blushed, ashamed and angry at him and at herself.

“No. Absolutely not,” a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “It’s just a habit of mine. I work in the car all the time and I don’t like being caught unprepared for any arrival.” He frowned at her, “I’ll never share you with another man, Sophia. Never.”

“I’ll never share you with another man…” A shudder ran through her. “But will you share me with another woman?” God! Where did this spring from?

He almost said, “Yes,” but a look on her face prevented it. More mixed signals, Sophia? Does the idea of a threesome make you horny?

Piccadilly, The Athenaeum.

4.49 p.m.

Their arrival at 116 Piccadilly saved Alistair from answering as the liveried doorman opened the car door.

I can provide a hot blonde in five minutes and we could go upstairs to a suite, forfeiting tea. His shy sunray hid behind the dark clouds. Never let it be said I don’t-

A tug on his sleeve interrupted his lascivious and dark thoughts.

“Is everything okay?” Sophia looked at his drawn features with a confused expression.

Stop this, Alistair Connor. He shook himself briskly. “Aye,” he rocked his neck to one side and then the other, running a hand over his nape to relax the tension. “Yes, everything is okay.” He put her hand in the crook of his arm. “Just a little tense.” He squeezed her hand and smiled at her when she remained quiet.

Sophia raised her eyebrow and glanced away, taking in the beautiful marble hall. “I asked Sarah to make the reservations in your name,” she informed him, feeling strangely subdued.

“Thanks,” he answered dryly, lost in his thoughts.

They approached a beautiful blonde waiting at the corner of the entrance to the Garden Room. “MacCraig, two people, and we would like a table overlooking the garden if possible.” Alistair’s preoccupation stopped him from noticing the warm smile the receptionist gave him.

“Sophia.” Her name, pronounced in a low tone of command, stopped her midway down to her armchair. She looked up and he motioned with his left hand, “On the sofa, please.” He sat beside her on the plush settee and accepted the menus, passing one to her.

“We’re ready to order,” he scanned the menu quickly. “I’ll have the Evergreen Tea with Earl Grey. The lady will have The Regent Park Honey Tea.” He closed his menu and looked at Sophia. “What is your choice of tea?”

“Soom, thank you,” she told the receptionist handed her the menu.

“Thank you, ma’am. Your tea will be here in a few minutes.” The receptionist left their sitting area disappointed that the handsome man hadn’t even looked in her direction or given her a smile.

“Soom?” Alistair shifted to better look at Sophia and twirled her long braid with his fingers, letting the silky touch soothe his mind.

“It’s a rare Darjeeling black only produced from the first flush in March. I like a light afternoon tea,” she answered absentmindedly. “Alistair, what’s the problem?”

“Nothing. Pay me no heed, I had a strange afternoon,” he lied and changed the subject abruptly. “I accepted my father’s invitation to go to Craigdale Castle tomorrow for the weekend. It’s my brother’s birthday. Something small, just family, since he doesn’t want a party.”

“Oh, really?” she inquired and he answered with a small nod. “I’ll miss you.”

“Miss me?” he frowned. “You’re going with me,” he informed, succinctly.

She paused, mid-breath. “I. Am. Going?” The sentence baffled her. Is this an order, Alistair Connor? Another one?

“Aye. My father has been pestering me to bring you. Seems that Alice and Leonard have been gossiping.”

There it is again. That ghost of a smile. What does it mean? “Hmm…” He wants to introduce me to his father and younger brother? She wondered if this was good or bad. Really, Sophia? Still wondering? “I can’t leave Gabriela this weekend.” Lying now? She felt guilt filling her up.

I’m afraid. She acknowledged, aggravated.

“The thought never crossed my mind. Of course she’ll come with us.” The tightness of his features lessened when his lips curled in a beautiful smile. “She’s got me wrapped around her little finger.”

And I’m wrapped around yours. She crossed her legs and leaned back on the arm of the sofa away from him, chewing her lips. “I’m not so sure about this.” Her braid fell away from his hand.

“What do you mean?” Alistair felt her withdrawing and became alert. He bent in her direction and recaptured her long braid, this time coiling it securely around his wrist possessively.

“Well… It’s going to be a family gathering. I don’t want to intrude. It’s your brother’s birthday and I-”

She halted as a waiter arrived with the special finger sandwiches of honey roasted ham and caramelized golden cross goat’s cheese, freshly baked orange blossom scones, and toasted crumpets with the Regents Park honey, homemade jam, lemon curd, and Devonshire clotted cream. He served their tea. Sophia’s mouth watered and she licked her lips.

Alistair almost shuddered with repressed desire. “You were saying?” he asked as soon as the waiter left.

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. Her thumb and index finger unconsciously caressed the place where her wedding ring should be. “That I’m not going.” She didn’t look at him and she tapped her boot nervously on the floor.

The waiter returned with a selection of pastries including bird cookies, fairy cakes with sugar flowers, and mixed fruit tartlets arranged on a three-tier silver tray. Alistair almost barked at him to go away.

“You’re. Not. Going.” His voice dark as he scowled at her fingers’ movements. “I don’t understand you, Sophia.” He shook his head hard and his hair flew around him.

“It’s too soon-”

“It’s not soon, Sophia. I’m going,” he informed and heard her sigh, “And you’re going with me. Period.” Don’t you dare say no.

She looked down at her hands and caught the telltale caress, which startled her. She stole a peek at him; he was once again poker-faced, watching her right fingers toying with the base of her left ring finger.

She leaned over to pick up a scone and spread lemon curd on it. She bit into it, turning her face away to look at the garden, avoiding his eyes. What should I do? What should I do? For the first time, she felt very much afraid and unsure. You idiot! Say yes! Contrasting sweet and sour flavors exploded on her tongue, but were lost on Sophia as she debated with herself.

She wavered in her decision, “I have a long day tomorrow.” He wants to take you to his childhood home. He has been respecting you so far. A perfect gentleman. He’s doing everything right and you’re still undecided, Sophia?

“I’m sure your boss will allow you to leave early.” His hand held her braid again and tugged at it, a touch of savagery in it, before releasing it to pick up his cup of tea.

“I’m not free before two o’clock, though,” she ceded. “Is that okay? What time is the flight?”

He smiled and his green eyes flickered. He quickly schooled his expression.

Good, very good. He felt a hard slam in his chest. I’m… happy? He didn’t really understand his infatuation and the happiness filling him upon her acceptance. So unforeseeable was that happiness, it left him unprepared for his heartbeats stirring alive again. His heart, dead for so long, beat strongly and it disconcerted Alistair. Unsettled by the feeling, he leaned in and kissed her, letting desire and lust override the other emotion.

“We’re in a restaurant.” She pushed him away when the kiss got too heated.

He smiled at her. “We’re concealed. The curtains are very well placed.”

“Nonetheless, I’d rather you behaved,” she scolded.

“Okay.” He put his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “I can pick up Gabriela and your luggage first and then you.”

“Thanks. You’re a saint.”

“Beauty,” he curled his fingers under her chin and lifted it, compelling her to look at him. “I’ve already told you, I’m not a saint. Not at all,” he said.

A short, dark laugh escaped his chest. A deep, masculine sound that made her respond with a shudder.

“By the way, the two of us are going out tonight. I made reservations for us at nine o’clock.”

“Where?”

“Surprise.” His enchanting smile showed that his unpredictable mood had changed.

From darkness to light in seconds. “Why do men always do this?” She huffed. “How can I dress accordingly if I don’t know where I’m going?”

“Do you want to know the dress code of the restaurant?”

“Sure.”

“It is as beautiful and elegant as Sophia is.”

“You- you-”

He laughed. “Yes? I, what?”

“Oh, forget it.” She sipped her tea. “Just forget it.”

Chapter 15

Atwood House.

6.30 p.m.

When Sophia arrived home Gabriela hopped from one foot to the other. “Mama, are we going? Are we?”

“Good evening, my angel. How was your day?” Sophia said, smiling at the girl’s happiness.

Gabriela looked contrite. “Sorry, Mother. Good evening. How was your day?”

“Fine, thank you. And yours?”

“Great!” She started jumping again. “Ariadne called me to say that her grandfather had invited us to Craigdale Castle. She says it’s huuuuuge.”

Sophia smiled at the excited girl. “Yes, dear. Alistair’s going to pick you up tomorrow before picking me up. Be ready by one thirty, all right?”

“Yes, I will. Mama, Uncle Felipe called. He’s going to call again tomorrow.”

Sophia took a long, luxuriant bath with Fragment di Perle bath salts by Simone Cosac Profumi. She blow-dried her hair and brushed it. She took special care with her eye makeup and dressed in a dark purple silk tank top and a matching pencil skirt. On her waist, she wore a dark brown Hermes belt with a silver H buckle. Bare legs. Her feet were encased in tall bronze sandals by Marc Jacobs. She sprayed perfume in the air and walked thought its cloud. She looked in the mirror and smiled at the young vibrant woman reflected there. Her smile broadened and she whirled on her heels, happy.

For a few moments, Sophia waited by the side gates before she saw Alistair’s car. Steven opened the gates for her and she left the cocoon of the garden for the street, turning and waving good-bye to the guard.

The purring sound of the Z4 engine reminded her of Gabriel. She suddenly felt sad. Don’t go there, Sophia. This isn’t the time.

Alistair noticed something wrong the moment he came out of the car.

“Hi, Beauty.” His mood was light and he kissed her for a long time. He entangled his fingers in her hair and his hands cupped her face, bringing it into the light. He noticed her moist eyes and frowned. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying.” It is not fair to him.

“All right, so you’re not crying.” He gently whipped her eyes. “Well, then. Tell me why are you sad?”

She smiled gloomily, “It’s nothing.”

He leaned on the car and pulled her between his legs, his arms around her waist. “I’m just as stubborn as you. We’ll stay here, freezing, until you tell me why you’re sad.”

“It’s really nothing. Don’t mind-”

“Ah-ah,” he put two fingers over her lips, shaking his head. “No lies. I know you. And the thing is: I mind.”

She sighed, “Memories.”

“Gabriel?” He felt a pang of jealousy in his heart.

She didn’t reply. Damn, Sophia. At least, try. She breathed deep, nodded her head, and shoved the memories to the bottom of her heart, and succeeded in giving him a bright smile. “But the sadness was gone the minute you arrived. Let’s go. I don’t want us to miss our reservation. I’m hungry.”

“I’m hungry, too.” He hauled her in his embrace and kissed her fiercely, imprinting his so ready erection on her belly. “But it’s not food I desire.”

Shoreditch. Boundary.

10.55 p.m.

“It’s impressive how you know these cozy and secluded restaurants,” Sophia remarked before placing the first spoon of her dessert in her mouth and closing her eyes to savor the chocolate soufflé with mixed berry sauce.

There she goes again. I shouldn’t have suggested a dessert. “You don’t like it here?”

“Mmm. Uh-hmm,” she nodded, opening her eyes and licking the spoon, oblivious to the seductive way she ate dessert. “Very much. The Victorian warehouse is so carefully preserved. These alcoves are so charming. However, it’s dark and secluded, as sometimes your mood is.”

Oh, Sophia, I don’t think you know how dark I am. “I’ll take you upstairs after. They have a stunning roof garden terrace with two olive trees over a hundred years old and a unique humidor. Do cigars bother you?”

She laughed. “I smoke cigars, Alistair. Cubans are my favorites.”

His eyes crinkled at the sides when his beautiful smile spread over his face. “Aren’t you a surprise, Sophia?”

“Of course I am. You still don’t really know me,” she shrugged and glanced at him sideways. “A good surprise, I hope.”

“Yes, a good surprise.” But I want to know you, Sophia. He shifted on the sofa and his scent clouded her senses.

“You smell so good, Alistair,” she breathed, the spoon forgotten in her hand.

He merely smiled at her praise and directed the spoon to her mouth, feeding her.

Mmm, Mr. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it is in the room.

“I’ve never seen you smoke.”

“I don’t smoke in front of Gabriela. And I like company when I do it. There’s still a lot you don’t know about me and I don’t know about you.”

“Aye, there is,” he answered quietly, a strange look shimmering on his features.

He waited for her to finish her dessert to ask. “Give me your left hand and close your eyes.”

She eyed him with a teasingly distrustful look.

“Come on. Indulge me.” He wriggled his fingers in her direction. “First, give me your watch.” He put her Aeternitas watch carefully on the table. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now, close your eyes and don’t open them until I say so.”

She did as he asked and felt his warm hand circling her wrist. Something cold touched her skin and her eyelids fluttered.

“Ah-ah!” he warned, hastily stopping whatever he was doing and putting a hand over her eyes. “I’m not finished.”

Her forehead creased. “What’s taking so long?”

“It’s not every day I enslave a woman like you,” he said huskily. “Rather, I wonder if I ever have it or will ever do it again.”

“Liar,” she whispered, “you’ve already enslaved me.” She smiled, with her eyes closed.

“Not the way I want to.” It was a promise. “A few more seconds… Not yet…” She felt a cold bracelet being released on her wrist. “You can open your eyes.”

Alistair held her hand for her to look, her watch still on the table.

She looked at her wrist and then stared at him, astonished, her smile fading. “Alistair-” What does he mean by that?

“You don’t like it,” he breathed, disappointed.

“No. I mean, yes. Damn.” She shook her head, staring at the Cartier Love collection bracelet in white gold, paved with diamonds and bigger diamond studs. “It is exquisite. I love it. I do.” Sophia, this is a Cartier icon, a bracelet that symbolizes both love and possession. So the question is, what is the meaning behind this gift? “It is beautiful,” she grinned at him. “It’s just that you surprised me with it.”

“Why?” He didn’t look convinced.

“This is a slave bracelet.”

“Aye, it is.” He cupped her face in his hands and gazed intently into her eyes. “And I’m keeping the screwdriver.”

How significant he turned a bracelet with a simple sentence. “You are keeping it,” she repeated, totally ensnared by the beacon of his emerald eyes, she mused about the difference between Ethan’s and Alistair’s gifts. Ethan had showered her with extremely expensive presents just because he could. The gifts were a way to buy her affection. Now, Alistair was giving her a much simpler jewel, with so much emotion and meaning packed on it. And her thoughts turned to the similarities between Alistair and Gabriel, who always gave her meaningly gifts. “I’ll treasure it, Alistair Connor. Thank you.”

“Allow yourself to become one with me, Sophia. Let me possess you.” His lips hovered close to hers. “All of you.” I need you, Sophia. Can’t you see?

His mouth descended on her and his tongue licked her bottom lip. As she parted her lips to breathe, he kissed her, heatedly, his hand on her nape, the other on her waist.

“Alistair Connor. We’re in a restaurant,” she whispered, escaping from the kiss. “What’s your problem with restaurants? Some fetish?”

He chuckled and shook his head, his hair softly swinging around his rugged face. “No, you’re my fetish. Sleep with me tonight.” He squeezed her nape. “Please.”

“No, I can’t. If you want me to go with you to Craigdale, I’ll have to wake up early and go to work.”

“Then stay with me in Craigdale.”

“In your room, you mean?”

He nodded.

“The first time I’m going to your father’s home? Of course not. I won’t feel comfortable.”

“Of. Course. Not.” He repeated slowly, rolling the words on his tongue. “Is this some kind of punishment, Sophia?” he asked her seriously.

“Punishment?” She asked, perplexed. “I don’t get you.”

“Do you want to punish me for something I did and you didn’t like? Is that it?” Dominant or submissive, Beauty? What do you plead? Can you please decide? “Do you want to see me on my knees? Begging? Because I’m almost there. I can switch once in a while with you, if you want me to.”

“Switch?” She frowned, “Switch what? I’m sorry, Alistair, I don’t understand what you’re saying. Be clear, please.” Sophia narrowed her eyes a bit and creased her forehead. What the hell? “The best way to get the right answer to something is to be direct and honest. What do you want to know?”

Let’s see what you are. “Dominant or submissive, Sophia?” He blurted and squeezed her hand, teetering in the suspense.

She opened her lips to answer dominant, but thought better. Her face creased even more. “Uh? What?”

Oh, fuck! Double fuck! “Never mind.” He flicked his wrist, dismissively. But his eyes betrayed his disappointment. Christ. “I have my answer.” He raked his free hand in his ink-black hair. She doesn’t know what she’s got herself into. And another thought struck him harder. I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into.

Sophia laced her fingers with his. “What’s going on, Alistair? You’ve been strange ever since this afternoon.”

“I’m going crazy with this ‘slow down’ of yours, Sophia.” He inhaled deeply, “I have a high sex drive and I don’t like to jack off alone, which, incidentally, I have been doing every night since I started going out with you.”

Sophia gasped, shocked. “There is no need to be so crude,” she hissed, disentangling her fingers from his.

“Crude? No,” his mood darkening. “It’s the truth.” He spread an arm over the back of the sofa and his hand encompassed her nape firmly in his grip. “Would you rather I lied to you and went out with an escort?”

“An escort?” Her eyes grew wide and then narrowed. What the hell? “Alistair Connor, this is getting worse by the second.”

“Or would you rather I turned to an ex to do it?” His hand tightened on her nape, almost painfully.

“Are you… threatening… coercing me into having sex with you?” she said between clenched teeth, her dark lashes fusing for a split second.

“No.” He bent his head in the direction of her mouth. “I’m just warning you.”

Dear God. How on earth did we get into this conversation? Her hand shot up to stop his advance, palming the center of his chest. “Very well, Alistair Connor, let me warn you, then. I don’t take threats well. Nor do I like being cornered.” Her lips thinned to a hard line as she sustained his searing gaze. “I only do what I want, whenever I want, and with whomever I want. You are free to find an escort or an ex.” Two can play this game, Mr. High-sex-drive. “But let me give you another warning. Again.” She stressed the word. “If you do let it happen, it’s the end for us. It will end before it begins.”

His eyes widened with disbelief when she pressed her hand onto his chest and let go in an aggressive movement. What now, Alistair Connor? His ray of sun shone so brightly in his private sky that it scared away his dark, thunderous clouds. Shall I apologize? Shall I let her go? Fuck, she is turning me inside out. And upside down.

He inhaled deep and nodded at her, “Warnings noted, Ms. Leibowitz. I’ll behave.” Jesus Christ. When did you turn into this weakling, Alistair Connor? Are you obeying orders, now? “We’re going to happen, Beauty. We. Will.” He breathed the commanding words on her mouth and his hand squeezed her nape lightly.

“We shall see,” she whispered and raised her elegant brows, throwing down the gauntlet.

“I do love challenges, Sophia.” He dipped his mouth and kissed her lightly before signaling for the waiter that they were ready to go upstairs. He retrieved her watch to put back on her wrist. His eyes stopped on the inscription on the leather band and he squinted to read it in the low light. His eyes widened a bit and sadness came over his face, before he schooled his features to look at her, tilting his head to the side. “This was a gift to Gabriel,” he affirmed.

She sat utterly still, keenly observing his reactions. “Yes,” she whispered.

“I like the words,” he said softly to her, admiration shining in his eyes. “Simple and beautiful, Sophia.”

“You speak Portuguese, too?” she asked quietly, thankful for his normal behavior.

“No. But I am fluent in Italian and French. Besides, these words are almost universal,” he shrugged and fastened the watch on her wrist, his fingers caressing her hand.

“Yes,” she entwined her fingers with his, “they are.”

“Let’s go up to the Rooftop,” he commanded. “We can have our coffee there. I want to see you smoking a cigar,” he sensuously whispered the last words in her ear, enjoying her shiver.

The waiter pulled out the table for her and she stood, bowing mockingly at him, “As you wish, my lord.” And stepped away, leaving him to follow her through the restaurant as all gazes turned to watch her elegantly stroll to the stairs.

He shook his head and scowled at her back. Alistair Connor, you are so in for it. She is going to make you eat out of her hand.

Leibowitz Oil Building.

Friday, March 5th, 2010.

1.07 p.m.

Sophia’s iPhone vibrated. Alistair? Already? She answered it quickly, “Alistair?”

“Sophia, we’re a little early. Traffic was good and,” she could almost hear him smiling, “an enchanted little girl asked me to pick her up at a twelve thirty, sharp. I’m almost there but I can wait if you want.”

“No need. I’ll be downstairs in a second.” Sophia turned off her iMac, put on her jacket, and grabbed her overcoat.

He was already waiting for her, leaning on the slick BMW. He eyed her face and became concerned. He greeted her with a light kiss on her lips. “Bad day?”

“You can’t imagine. I had a long meeting in the morning and one of Leibowitz’s platforms in Rio had a malfunction. Edward and I had an extensive conference call with the Brazilian CEO and directors. We just finished. I didn’t eat. Not just bad, it was a disaster.”

“Well,” he smiled at her, “at least you’re going to have a calm weekend. Gabriela wants to play with Ariadne every second of it.” His smile broadened, “She said she repacked your bags with Maria and that you’re going to dress beautifully for me the next few days.” He laughed heartily. “She’s an imp. You need to be careful with her. Always plotting.” He opened the back door for her. “I’m glad she’s on my side.”

“Hi, Mama.” Chubby arms hugged her neck and kisses were scattered on her cheek as soon as Sophia sat beside her daughter in the car.

“My love,” her heart busted with joy. “Ready for the weekend?”

“Ready, Mother.” Gabriela bounced in her car seat. “Come on! Let’s not waste a second.”

Sophia laughed. “All right.” She closed the back door. As Alistair entered the car through the other door, she glanced in Alistair’s direction over Gabriela’s head, smiling. “So much energy for such a little girl.”

He smiled back, “She’s a dear.”

“I am,” Gabriela concurred.

Alistair touched the intercom, “Heathrow by Invitation, please, Garrick.”

“Heathrow by invitation?” she parroted.

“You don’t know it?”

“No.”

“You’ll love it. They take care of check-in and baggage, while we wait in the private lounge. Then, they drop us off at the plane.” He smiled at Gabriela, playing with the child’s pale blonde hair. “You should have your own airplane, Sophia.”

“What for? I don’t really travel that much.” Sophia put her head against the headrest and closed her eyes, groaning. She was really tired and beginning to get a headache.

“You okay?” Alistair murmured, his fingers skimming over her forehead. He looked at her, worried. “Sophia?” he whispered.

She opened her eyes to glance at him and closed them again. “I’m okay. It’s just a bad headache.” You gave me too much to think about yesterday, Lord I-give-the-orders. She took her sunglasses from her bag and put them on.

The Heathrow by Invitation driver dropped them off on the tarmac. A silver-and-dark green G650 waited for them.

Next to the stairs, the captain and the copilot prepared to greet them, “Mr. MacCraig, ma’am, good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Muir, Kincaid,” Alistair nodded at the two men as Sophia and Gabriela said, “Good afternoon.”

This is getting monotonous. She looked at him, frowning.

“What?” he asked her, smiling.

“Do all British men have G650s?” she teased.

“All?” He frowned. “How many British men do you know that have a G650?” His smile vanished from his face.

There he is. Lord Jealousy. I’ll have to keep track of his many nicknames. “You and Ethan.”

“Indeed.” His brows rose. “Mine is newer.” Alistair Connor. Don’t be a child. His face taut, he still didn’t smile. “Time is money, Sophia, especially for a banker who travels continuously.” He bent down to enter the plane, too tall for the size of the aircraft. “Good afternoon, MacDouglas.”

“Mr. MacCraig, Ms. Leibowitz, and young lady, good afternoon.” He took their coats and turned to hang them in the small closet.

Sophia whispered to Alistair, “Are all your employees Scottish?” She counted on her fingers, “MacKeenan, Garrick, Munro, Muir, Kincaid, and MacDouglas.”

He frowned and his lips curled upward in a ghost of a smile. “Not all, but the majority are. I have a contract with the University of Edinburgh to place trainees and newly graduated students.”

The floor plan and decor of Alistair’s airplane differed completely from Ethan’s. The ivory leather, dark green carpet, and dark green-and-ivory plush cushions of Alistair’s was homier and more spacious with fewer seats.

“Only six seats and a sofa?” She looked around.

“No,” he flashed a crooked smile and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward a door. He opened it to show a beautifully done stateroom with an amazingly big bed and another sofa.

“Wow! This is nice,” Gabriela ran her little hand over the mattress.

“It is, isn’t it?” Alistair picked her up in his arms and flung her on the soft bed, where she fell, giggling.

He turned to Sophia, his hand caressed her jaw line. “Why don’t you sleep until we reach Plockton Airstrip? The flight is an hour and fifteen minutes. Enough time for you to rest. Gabriela and I will keep quiet, won’t we, Fairy? We can see, mmm…”

“Beauty and the Beast,” Gabriela hopped on the floor.

“Beauty and the Beast, it is then.” He smiled at the little girl, scooping her back in his arms.

“Alistair Connor,” Sophia breathed and gaped at him. “You are a saint even if you don’t think so,” she mumbled the end of the sentence, massaging her right temple.

No saint here, Sophia. He shook his head, smiling. “How about a sandwich and a Tylenol?”

“Lovely.”

“Come.” He grabbed her hand leading her to the other side of the aircraft to the bar. “MacDouglas, please, set up the bed in the stateroom for Ms. Leibowitz.”

Sophia slept the whole flight and woke up to Alistair nuzzling her neck.

“Come on, Beauty. Wake up. We’re landing in ten minutes.”

“Mmm.” She stretched on the bed and smiled at him. “It was a great suggestion. Thanks. I’m feeling much better.”

He smiled with mischief at her. “One day, I’ll have you here.”

“Here?” she squeaked.

His smile turned darker and devilish and he nodded, “Yes, here. Shocked?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Quite.” And smiled, stretching again. “But isn’t it a wonderful idea, Alistair Connor?” She liked the way his full name tasted on her tongue.

“Prepare for being fully shocked, Sophia.” He laughed, throwing his head back, his forest-green eyes twinkling. “You can fulfill all your fantasies with me. I love role-play.”

“Hmm,” she purred and jumped from the bed. “I’ll give it great thought.”

He swatted her butt, chuckling. “Yes, please do.”

Scotland, Highlands, Plockton Airstrip.

3.44 p.m.

Sophia breathed deep as she stepped out of the plane and grabbed Alistair’s hand.

“Nervous?” he asked and she nodded. “Don’t be. My father will love you.”

Sophia spotted Lachlann Aindreas MacCraig right away. Although, he didn’t look much like Alistair, his towering height and width gave him away. He had an easy smile and graying auburn hair. With the same green eyes, lean, almost as tall and broad as Alistair, although much older than his son, he remained a handsome man.

“Good to see you, Son.” He hugged Alistair.

“Father.” Alistair hugged Lachlann and stepped back, motioning with his hand, “This is Sophia. And this sleeping beauty is Gabriela.” The little girl dozed peacefully on his broad shoulder as if he provided the perfect place to sleep.

Lachlann pulled Sophia into his embrace and kissed both of her cheeks. “Flàinte. Wel-”

“Tapadh leibh,” she smiled and thanked his welcome greeting in Gaelic before he could translate.

Alistair chuckled and Lachlann’s eyes widened for a second.

“You speak Gaelic?”

“Just a few words,” she beamed at him, happy that she had the correct intonation.

“Come on, let’s go. We still have a forty-minute drive from here and I’ve booked a special treatment for Sophia at the spa.” He winked at Sophia and opened the trunk of the Range Rover so MacDouglas could store their luggage.

“Spa?” Sophia asked puzzled at Alistair.

“Craigdale, Airgeal Caisteal, and Dryad Manor are luxury hotels, but Craigdale’s Spa is one of the best in the world.” He smiled. “You will love it. I told Gabriela to pack your sinful bikinis and workout clothes.” Alistair gave Gabriela to Sophia so he could adjust her car seat on the backseat of Lachlann’s black Range Rover. When he put Gabriela tenderly in Sophia’s arms, the girl nuzzled her breast and sighed happily, smiling in her slumber.

“You don’t know how much I envy her,” Alistair whispered in Sophia’s ear and bit her lobe.

He stepped back for her to put Gabriela into the seat. When Sophia bent inside the car, he pressed his hips onto her butt.

Sophia giggled and said, “Shh! Behave.”

“It’s true.”

“What is true?” asked Lachlann as he entered the car. Alistair smiled broadly and shook his head, his silky bangs swinging around his face.

“Come on, Son, or we won’t make it in time for afternoon tea.”

“Sophia’s dieting,” he said and closed her door.

“Oh.” Lachlann eyed Sophia in the rear mirror. “But you don-”

“He’s teasing,” she interrupted Lachlann and scowled at Alistair as he entered the car, “I love food.”

“She says that, but keeps skipping lunch and who knows what else.”

“Well, then. Let me entreat you to try our delicious food while you’re in Craigdale.” He winked at her in the mirror. “Make sure Alistair Connor gives you a quick tour before tea. We have our private rooms. Basically, on the west wing, the ground floor and the third and fourth floors are ours. The spa is at the back of the ground floor and the entire lower ground.”

“Ah, Father,” Alistair cleared his throat. “What room did you reserve for Sophia?”

Lachlann gazed at Alistair with a surprised look on his face before returning his attention to the windy road. “Aren’t you both staying in your room?”

“Err…” Alistair shifted on the seat to stare at Sophia with a raised eyebrow. She shook her head and he sighed before saying, “I am. She isn’t.”

Lachlann, who followed the exchange from the corner of his eyes, gawked at Alistair for a second in utter disbelief and grinned. “I don’t believe it.”

“And what is so funny?” Alistair gave his father a black look and then at Sophia as she tittered on the front seat.

“I wish your mother could see this,” he chortled, amazed. “Well done, my girl, well done,” Lachlann spoke under his breath before glancing at her in the mirror with a huge smile. “Your daughter is staying with Ariadne on the third floor, near Alice. Alistair’s rooms are on the fourth floor. Soooo,” he peeked at Alistair, a delighted smile on his face, “which room do you think we should give her?”

“Near Alice,” said Sophia at the same time Alistair answered, “Near me in the Empress Catherine Suite.”

“Ah-ah!” He smirked at Alistair. “The Queen Mary Suite, next to Alice. Elena is staying in the Czar Nicholas II on the same floor.” He smiled at her in the mirror, his green eyes gleamed like Alistair’s. “You will like the room, my dear. It’s all done in red and off-white damask with a seventeenth century four-poster bed. It has a very comfortable sitting area with views over the loch. From the bathroom, there are great views over the surrounding mountains. And” his smile broadened, which didn’t seem possible, “it’s at the end of the corridor, after Alice, Elena, and the children’s suites.”

I got you, Your Grace. Far from your son. And with barriers. Lachlann’s pleasure with the situation was so blatant that Sophia felt it fill the car.

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” she concurred and wiggled her brows at Alistair, who scowled and crossed his strong arms over his chest, muttering something unintelligible that made Lachlann chuckle more.

Ardaneaskan, Loch Carron. Craigdale Castle

4.39 p.m.

Sophia sucked in a breath when they neared Craigdale Castle. She could only describe it as one of the loveliest and most romantic spots that she had ever seen. Surrounded by tall and broad walls, with its very own loch, it offered one of the most stunning Scottish panoramas.

“Mama, it is beautiful. And huge!” Gabriela, who had been awake and chattering with them for a while, was ecstatic.

“Yes, my angel. It’s more than beautiful. It’s… enchanting.”

Lachlann smiled, “I like that. Enchanting. Yes, Craigdale is enchanting.”

“Do you have fairies here?” Gabriela asked.

The old man smiled widely, “Yes, my dear. I’m going to show them to you. They come out at night and if we’re very quiet, they appear in the garden.”

The little girl clapped her hands, “Oh, I want to see them. I’ll keep quiet, I promise.”

Alistair smiled happily at Sophia as his father and Gabriela made plans for the evening.

Lachlann parked in front of the enormous double doors and immediately a liveried red-haired man came to open the Range Rover door as another took the keys from his hand.

Gabriela hopped on the ground craning her neck to study the high turrets and tugged at Sophia’s hand, “Look, Mama. They have towers.” She eyed Alistair. “Do you keep prisoners in them?”

He crouched by her side and wiggled his brows, “Only people who misbehave. Children included.”

“Oh,” the little girl breathed at the unexpected answer.

“Stop, Alistair Connor. You’re going to scare the girl,” Lachlann admonished.

“I don’t misbehave. I’m very polite and a good girl.” She wound her arms around Sophia’s leg. “Aren’t I, Mama?”

Sophia bent down and picked her up in her arms, “Yes, my love. You are. Just perfect.”

The little girl turned to Lachlann with a broad and confident smile, “See? I don’t need to fear the towers.”

“Indeed,” he nodded at her, smiling.

Alistair took Gabriela from Sophia’s arms, smiling, “Come on, little imp.” And he stretched his free hand to grip Sophia’s. We look like a happy family. He stopped for a second and looked around at his childhood home. A happy family. He scolded at the thought but it didn’t leave his mind.

They climbed the stairs and the double doors opened as if commanded by magic.

“I hope you find everything to your liking, my dear,” Lachlann said. “We place particular emphasis in matching the elegant surroundings and atmosphere of the hotel with a warm welcome and friendly, efficient service. In the evening, you will find a newsletter on your bed, informing you of the exercise classes, swimming, aqua aerobics classes, and outdoor activities offered by the hotel, should you wish to participate.”

“Father, Sophia is mine for the weekend. She is going nowhere without me.” Alistair stared deeply into her eyes. “I’m your private guide.”

Lachlann had a permanent grin stuck on his face. “The spa is a very attractive self-contained complex. We have a semi-Olympic pool, a leisure pool with loungers, a Jacuzzi, and an outdoor heated pool. There’s a gymnasium, an aerobics dance studio, steam baths, and saunas.” He beamed at her. “Feel free to use the beauty parlor also.”

“Thank you, Your Grace, but I don’t usually go to hairdressers. Although, I am sure I’ll love the massages.”

“No need for formality with me, my girl. Lachlann is fine. I’m sure we’re going to be great friends. I’ll leave you in Alistair Connor’s hands.” He patted her shoulder, smiled, and strolled to the desk in the corner of the hall to give some orders to a man dressed in a suit.

After tea, Alistair ushered Sophia and Gabriela through a quick tour and directed them to Sophia’s suite. Gabriela entered the room to explore it.

“As soon as you’re ready for dinner, come meet me in the Laird Library.” He looked at his watch. “Around eight thirty, I think. Do you remember where it is?”

“Sure. What are you going to do?”

“Workout a bit and swim. Then chat in the sauna with Leo. They should arrive in thirty minutes or so. I’ll stay with Gabriela in the game room waiting for them because Ariadne expressly stated that she wants to see her when she arrives.” His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her flush to his body and he warned her, his lips brushing hers, “Don’t you dare flaunt yourself in those skimpy bikinis when I’m not at your side.”

“I’m going to work out for half an hour. Then, I’m going to relax with the Thai treatment your father booked for me. I promise: no bikinis,” Sophia smiled mischievously at him, “today.”

Chapter 16

8.18 p.m.

Sophia chose a navy column-like wool dress, with a tight bodice and long sleeves. Turquoise-and-coral jewelry adorned her ears and right wrist. Her marine belt had a silver clasp and her feet were encased in marine leather pumps. As she braided her hair, she looked in the mirror.

Sophia hated the insecurity that crept in, despite her best efforts to keep it at bay.

Am I doing the right thing? Gabriela is so involved with him already. She shook her head trying to avoid the thoughts that had been nagging her since her conversation with Alistair the night before. She picked up her short coral Chanel jacket and put her iPhone in the inner pocket.

She left her suite and looked around. Furnishings throughout the castle were of the highest quality with rich fabrics, elegant furniture, and fine antiques. Sophia appreciated the caring and loving approach evident throughout. The perfect lighting illuminated the stairs and huge elaborate French tapestries, while a large number of paintings encased in golden frames were scattered throughout the five floors. From the light and airy hall to the deep ruby of the Red Drawing Room and from the magnificent dining room to the paneled Laird Library, Craigdale seemed far, far away from the real world.

She began to relax in the midst of all the beauty. She pushed the library doors and halted just on the threshold as she heard two male voices. She looked inside and located the source. A Scottish accent, yes, but it isn’t Alistair. Two tall men in an heated argument stood at the end of the library.

“How dare he bring one of his bloody whores here!” The tallest man thundered, “Worst of all, how did you allow it?”

“She’s not like the others. You’ll see. Alice-”

“Alice knows nothing. She’s too innocent. I know his type,” he sniggered.

“Excuse me,” Sophia said, in a low voice, not sure she should interrupt the argument.

The tallest man stepped forward, “This is a private part of-”

Lachlann put a hand on his arm and whispered, “It’s her.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he stared down at Lachlann and back at Sophia, disbelief clearly showing on his face. “No way,” he shook his head, “No. Fucking. Way.”

“Yes, it’s her,” Lachlann reaffirmed in a murmur. And still looking at Sophia, scolded his son, “Language, Tavish Uilleam.”

Lachlann strolled to Sophia his arms stretched and grabbed her hands, “You look beautiful, my girl. Let me introduce you to my youngest son, Tavish Uilleam.”

Sophia craned her neck up and up and up to stare at a younger and more turbulent version of Alistair. A strange sensation chilled her. If possible, Tavish appeared even taller and more handsome than Alistair did. In front of her stood a man to be reckoned with. A force of nature. Uncontrollable.

“I’m Sophia,” she breathed, still astonished by him. She tentatively outstretched her hand as she noticed his contemptuous and slow survey of her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tavish.”

“Lieutenant-Colonel Doctor Lord Tavish Uilleam,” he corrected her, in a stern voice, his face grim. No smile, no outstretched hand. His held his stiff posture, his hands gripped at his back.

“Oh?” Sophia raised her brows and withdrew her hand, straightening as much as she could, never before so conscious of her average height. She dipped in a low, mocking bow, “Noted, my lord. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

She turned to Lachlann with a strained smile on her face. “Perhaps you know where Gabriela is?”

“I haven’t seen-”

“Who is Gabriela? A friend of yours?” Tavish harshly interrupted Lachlann, bristling with anger.

Why do you ask with such scorn? Sophia looked over her shoulder and in an icy voice informed, “My daughter.” She lifted her chin higher. What is your problem, Lieutenant-Colonel-Doctor-Lord-Arrogance? How dare you treat me like this.

The scene stupefied Lachlann.

“Your daughter?” Tavish repeated, dumbfounded.

She slowly spun to look again at the turbulent sea-green eyes. “Yes, my three-year-old daughter. Gabriela Espírito Santo Leibowitz,” she informed him in a dry voice.

Tavish’s face showed his surprise at Gabriela’s name and he mused, “Surely, you are not the missing widow…”

“Yes, I’m Gabriel Leibowitz’s widow. Why? Is there a problem?” Her eyes narrowed at him. She waited for the next dig, not entirely comprehending Tavish’s behavior.

“Leonard told me you like to read, Sophia,” Lachlann interrupted, looking at Tavish with censure in his eyes. He relaxed when she whirled around to him, smiling.

“Oh, yes. I do. I love books.” Sophia looked around her, noticing the floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. She did her best to avoid Tavish’s sharp gaze. “You have a beautiful library.”

“I am delighted to give you a tour. We have a few interesting originals here. Come and see.” Lachlann gripped her hand and towed her to one of the three locked cases in the middle of the room, opening the glass lid, “Originals by Shakespeare. My favorite is the prompt book of The Tragedy of Macbeth.”

Tavish interrupted, “I don’t know why you like it so much, Father. The story of King Macbeth as told by Shakespeare bears no relation to real events in Scottish history. The historical Macbeth was an admired monarch.”

Lachlann shrugged, sighed softly, and pointed at other books. “The first quarto edition of Midsummer Night’s Dream, published in 1600; the first quarto of The Tragedy of Othello, from 1622, and Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, the enlarged version of 1605; and, of course,” he turned to Sophia and smiled, “a Scottish original, Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson, published in1886.”

Lachlann moved to another case and showed it to her. “These are my absolute favorites, all first editions: Valerius Terminus by Sir Francis Bacon.” And he motioned to the last five books, “Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes, A Letter Concerning Toleration by John Locke - the second and the third letters - and The Theory of Moral Sentiments by Sir Adam Smith.”

She gaped at him. “Oh, my,” she murmured, lowering her gaze to the books in the case. “All first editions? The originals?”

“Is there any other meaning to original?” Tavish asked from behind.

“Indeed, my lord, there is.” She bent her head backwards to stare at his green eyes. “I have read numerous works in their original, in several languages, meaning that I’ve read them in their original written language,” she boasted and then turned to look at the ancient book, still astonished. “But never such time-honored first editions. May I see the John Locke?” she asked Lachlann, who took the book reverentially from the velvet-lined case and put it in her hands. “I’ve always been interested in his ideas about peace and religious toleration in a civil society.”

“Locke was a demagogue,” Tavish continued, “he defended that all men were created equal but gave absolute power to the slave masters.”

“Oh, please,” Sophia rolled her eyes heavenward, “Locke was a man of his time and slavery a common practice during his life.”

“It is said the he invested heavily in the Royal African Company.”

“Now,” Sophia retorted, aggravated. “Locke was the father of classical liberalism and had many important ideas. They influenced the writing of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States. And you’re focusing on the one thing that is wrong nowadays?” She turned away and said to Lachlann, “I’m partial to his ideas about self and identity. I really think that we are born a tabula rasa.”

“We also have An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, from 1689.”

“Oh, really?” Sophia’s eyes sparkled and she beamed at Lachlann, “Could I read it over the weekend?”

“It’s the first original,” Tavish smirked before Lachlann could say anything. “It’s in Latin.”

“So?” She looked at him, with raised brows.

“Don’t tell me you read Latin,” he snubbed.

“Well, my lord,” she smiled smugly at him, “I can’t say I’m fluent in it, but, yes, I can read some Latin.” She turned to Lachlann. “May I?”

“Of course, my dear,” Lachlann took out the mentioned book from the third case and handed it to her.

Sophia put it under the first one Lachlann had given her and opened the protective cover to stare at the title page of A Letter Concerning Toleration. “This is… wondrous,” she mumbled and strolled to sit in an armchair, with her head thrust in the book, completely absorbed by it. “Fabulous. Toleration is the key word. It’s a pity few people understand this.”

Lachlann smirked at Tavish.

“This means nothing,” Tavish hissed, his turbulent eyes following Sophia’s movements. “I’ve seen what too much toleration has done to Alistair Connor. I wonder what she means by it,” he sneered.

“Father!” Alistair’s deep and low voice echoed in the room. “I don’t believe you’ve already corrupted Sophia. She won’t get out of the library the whole weekend.”

“I thought corruption was more a habit of yours, Brother,” Tavish retorted.

Alistair halted in front of Tavish and their gazes clashed.

Sophia lifted her eyes from the book to study them. They looked very much alike. Tavish, at least an inch taller and more muscular than his broader and leaner brother, had the same windblown ink-black hair. Tavish wore his hair shorter than his brother did, but their chiseled faces shared the same devilish-black eyebrows and long, dark lashes framing spectacular green eyes. Tavish’s lighter eyes, softer and fuller mouth differentiated him from Alistair’s look. A clenched jaw and a bent nose that seemed as if it had been broken once set off Tavish’s stern appearance.

Their emotions played out in contrasts: Alistair’s smirk and a poker-face with inscrutable eyes versus Tavish’s dour smile and severe face with turbulent eyes.

Tavish was impressive. Sophia had never seen such a rugged and tortured face. She sucked in a breath, involuntarily.

Unhurriedly, Tavish turned his head to examine her, a menacing look on his face. The pain, sorrow, and rage etched on his features shocked Sophia. His scorching gaze sustained hers, unwavering as she was caught by his whirlwind of emotions.

“Tavish Uilleam, she’s not what you think,” Alistair murmured so low that Sophia didn’t make out what he said. Fuck. Why am I explaining this? Why does everyone walk on eggshells around Tavish? He’s became a despot. “Still judging others based on your warped opinions?” he hissed. “Didn’t Iraq and Afghanistan teach you anything?”

“Oh, they did, Alistair Connor, they did,” Tavish’s voice was sharp. “More than you can imagine.” He unlocked his gaze from Sophia’s and turned his head slowly to stare deeply into Alistair’s eyes. “You think my opinions are warped? I disagree.” He shook his head and said spitefully, “Let’s see if Nathalie’s and Mother’s deaths have taught you anything.”

Alistair’s spine went ramrod straight and his hands clenched into fists.

“Boys!” Lachlann walked over to them and put his hands on their shoulders. “I’m glad to have the whole family over for the weekend, so let’s enjoy it, okay?”

Sophia had walked quietly to the men’s side. “Lachlann.” She gave him back the books, but glaring at Tavish, “Here. Toleration,” she stressed the word and turned to his father with a smile, “thank you. I’d like to take a rain check on our tour.” She put her left hand over Alistair’s fisted hand. “I’m going to look for Gabriela. I haven’t seen her since I came down.”

“I did,” Alistair said. “She’s with Ariadne in the game room. There’s no need-”

She raised her hand. “I’d rather go to her. It’s past her bedtime.” She blinked innocently at Tavish, a sudden twist on her lips betraying her. “My lord, if you would so kindly grant me my leave.”

And she turned without waiting for their answers, strolling to the door.

“Wait for m-”

“Alone, Alistair Connor.” Her firm voice resounded in the library.

“Sophia-” Alistair murmured, surprised at her cold rebuff. She raised a hand without looking back.

Before she exited the library, she heard Alistair’s voice ringing with indignation in the room.

“My lord? What the fuck are you doing, Tavish Uilleam? Who do you think she is? Who do you think you-”

Sophia closed the door quietly behind her, an unbearable angst blocking her throat. What the hell was that?

Alice found Sophia in the anteroom of the Queen Mary Suite, sitting in one of the armchairs, chin in hand, gazing through the window at the garden lawn lit by strategically placed lights. A distant look graced her face.

“Sophia,” she spoke in a low voice.

Sophia jumped in her seat and put a hand on her throat. “Alice! Oh,” she breathed. “I’m sorry. I was distracted.”

Alice bent and kissed Sophia on the cheeks and, gesturing to the armchair next to hers, asked, “May I sit down for a minute?”

“Yes, of course. How was your trip?”

Alice plastered a smile on her tense face. “Next time I’m going to send Ariadne with you and Gabriela. She pestered me the whole day that she wanted to come in Alistair’s plane and that it took too long to arrive.”

“But it’s so quick.”

“With Alistair Connor. It’s two hours to Inverness on a regular flight and then from Inverness it’s about an hour and a half here.”

“Really?” She raised her brows, surprised. “Next time, she’ll come with us. It will be a pleasure.”

Alice twisted a lock of her beautiful and shiny red hair around her fingers. “Sophia… could you possibly… Oh, Jesus.” She released her hair and wrung her hands together.

“What is it, Alice?” Alice’s anxious face made Sophia feel apprehensive. “What happened?”

“Could you forgive my brother?”

Oh, God! What did Alistair do? She schooled her features and crossed her legs nonchalantly. “What did Alistair do?”

“No, not Alistair Connor. Tavish Uilleam.”

Ah! “Tavish.” Lieutenant-Colonel-Doctor-Lord-Arrogance. Who thinks he’s better than I am. But then, what else is he thinking? I’m just one more out of hundreds of women Alistair collects.

“And, please, don’t tell Alistair Connor I had this conversation with you. They’ve been estranged ever since our mother died. Tavish Uilleam has only recently forgiven him.”

“Forgiven him? What was there to forgive?”

“He blames Alistair for our mother’s death. Tavish Uilleam wasn’t here and her letters had him conclude this.”

“Wait. Wait.” She raised her hand. “I’m not following you. I thought your mother died of cancer. Good God, why does he think Alistair guilty?”

Alice exhaled a pained breath, “She was very ill, yes. But she became very depressed after Nathalie’s death and never recovered from it. She died three months after Nathalie.”

“My God,” Sophia breathed.

“Neither death was Alistair’s fault, of course. But Tavish Uilleam thinks differently.”

“Really? It’s quite presumptuous of him to judge his own brother like this.”

“Sophia, Alistair’s life was a-”

Sophia raised a hand interrupting her. “Alice, I’d rather hear this from Alistair himself.” She thinned her lips in concentration, entwining her fingers, and resting them on the arm of the settee. “And where was your mighty brother, Lieutenant-Colonel Doctor Lord Tavish Uilleam, when Nathalie and your mother died?”

Alice shifted on her seat, arranged the pleats of her long skirt, and watched her warily. “Please, Sophia, this stays between us, okay?”

“Yeah. Of course.” What could be so bad that Alice hesitates telling me?

“He lived in London,” Alice fidgeted in the armchair and looked down at her hands, “in a psychiatric clinic recovering from being a prisoner of war.”

Sophia paled and the air disappeared from her lungs.

“Captured in July 2008 and freed before Christmas, Tavish had to stay in Afghanistan for a month to recover from a gunshot wound that almost killed him. Nathalie died in-” Her voice broke as tears fell from her eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me more,” Sophia whispered and put her hand over Alice’s. “I forgive him.”

Relieved, Alice slumped in the armchair. “Thank you, Sophia. You don’t know what it means to my father. He was looking forward to this week-” She looked up and sucked in a breath. “Oh, Sophia, don’t cry. Please. It’s over. He’s over it.”

“I doubt it, Alice,” she murmured. “This is not something you get over in a year or two. Believe me, I know it.”

They were so absorbed by the sorrow that they didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.

“Christ, Sophia. Why are you crying?” With three powerful strides, Alistair arrived beside her armchair. He hauled Sophia to his chest. “What happened, Alice?” He looked at his sister, frantic. “Was it Tavish?” His face darkened and his arms wrapped tightly around Sophia. “What did he say to you?”

Alice’s eyes turned huge with panic.

Sophia wiped her face with the back of her hands. “It’s only me being silly. I was telling Alice about my wedding day. That’s all.” She smiled at him, her spiked wet lashes beautifully framing her eyes. “You know I cry easily.”

“And why were you reminded of your wedding day?” You are lying, Beauty. Why? What happened in the library? He withdrew a white handkerchief from his jacket breast pocket and dried her face, tenderly.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged and looked away. “Why do memories assault you?” She sighed and looked at an ashen faced Alice, who had remained in the armchair.

Sophia cleared her throat, breaking the uneasy silence between them, “What brings you here?”

“Tavish Uilleam asked me to bring you back.”

She raised a brow and scoffed, “Oh, Lieutenant-Colonel Doctor Lord Tavish Uilleam?”

He didn’t miss the irony.

“Is that how he introduced himself?” Alistair asked, stunned.

“There’s no need to call him that, Sophia.” Alice rose from the armchair and strolled to her side, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“To each, his own. He’s entitled to his ways and I perfectly understand. Let’s leave it at that.”

A good host, Lachlann guaranteed that the conversation flowed with ease. During the whole evening, Tavish scrutinized every glass of wine Sophia drank and every morsel she ate. Acutely aware of his hard stare, she couldn’t relax. The conversation with Alice hadn’t left her mind.

God! Six months in the hands of the enemy! She couldn’t begin to imagine the deep scars he had on his soul. Couldn’t even start to comprehend the pain and despair he must have endured.

“How was your lamb, my dear?” Lachlann’s strong hand rested over hers for a second, calling her attention to him.

“Delicious, thank you. The whole dinner was. With your permission, I’d like to meet your chef.”

“Sophia cooks. Or at least she says she does.” Alistair stabbed a piece of his fish and fed her, “and she adores desserts.”

“It’s a wonder you’re so lean,” remarked Elena, seated opposite her, between Alexander and Leonard.

“Sophia has always been thin,” Alexander noted.

“But it’s no miracle. I don’t really eat much. It’s not because I love food that I eat heaps of it. And I work out to burn the calories. There’s no free lunch, is there?”

“I can just imagine the exercises you do,” Tavish muttered from the head of the table.

“That’s enough, Tavish Uilleam,” Alice rebuked, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing it hard. “Instead of dwelling in your dirty imagination, pay attention to the woman, to the human being in front of you. You’re being too creative.”

He unlocked his stare from Alistair and Sophia and glanced at Alice, “How are you so sure?”

“Do you think I’d put another Heather next to Ariadne and Michael? You weren’t the only one who didn’t like her. Although I’m the youngest, I’m no fool,” she spoke so low that not even Alistair, who sat beside her, heard the comment.

Sophia felt a prickling on the back of her neck and stiffened as she noticed Tavish’s measuring stare.

As if sensing her discomfort, Alistair gripped her hand and squeezed it. “Everything okay?” he whispered in her ear.

She didn’t look his way or answer his question, incapable of handling the uncomfortable situation anymore. How could she explain a situation she didn’t fully understand herself?

“If you make love to your dessert tonight, I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you, caveman style, to my room,” he murmured in her ear.

She lifted a raven eyebrow in an elegant dare.

“And don’t moan over the chocolates you brought my father when he offers them.” His green eyes flashed. “Or I’ll have to punish you.”

With those threats, he put her in a light mood. A devious smile spread slowly on her face and something mischievous gleamed in her clear eyes.

When the soufflé with raspberry sorbet arrived, Alistair was already hard from the expectation of what she would do. Fuck. I’m in for good.

Sophia smiled wickedly at him and slowly, ever so slowly picked up her spoon and dipped it in the sorbet. She lifted the spoon and opened her mouth. Putting it between her lips, she closed her mouth around it with such a passion, in a motion so carnal he felt as if her lips had closed around his erection. Her eyes turned light gold and he sucked in a breath. She was making love, not to her dessert, but to him.

Alistair noticed as she lost her playful and teasing mood. He followed the movement her eyes had made. Tavish was watching them intently with a thunderous look on his face. She sat up erect on her chair.

He tried to lighten her mood again and, bending his head, he whispered in her ear, “So, you’re up for punishment. A spanking, maybe?”

Sustaining Tavish’s glare, Sophia whispered to Alistair, “It’s your brother who deserves a spanking.”

Lachlann chuckled.

Oh, God. I’ve been overheard. Sophia blushed.

Alistair fell in love with her pink cheeks and threw his head back in laughter, too happy to give a damn about Tavish.

Laughing at me? How dare you! Sophia smacked Alistair’s biceps, “You brutish Highlander.”

“Seems we are in greater number here, my dear,” Tavish drawled from his position at the other end of the table. “You’d better behave.”

“Should I cower because of your greater numbers?” she rebuked, raising her chin.

“Tavish, you’re the one who should show care around Dr. Leibowitz here. She’s quite fearless,” Leonard chuckled, on his seat next to Tavish. “Threats don’t work well on her.”

“Are you a medical doctor?” Tavish’s brows almost met his hairline.

“No, I’m not. I’m a lawyer with a master’s who is finishing a PhD. Not a medic, a doctor.” A doctor to be, you mean, Sophia.

Tavish’s mouth dropped opened and stayed that way as he looked to Alice who just raised an eyebrow.

“What’s happening to Alistair Connor?” he asked his sister in a whisper.

“Do you ride, Sophia?” Leonard probed when they sat down in the drawing room. As she nodded, he asked. “Would you like to go riding with us tomorrow? There are some beautiful trails here.”

“It’s one of my favorite sports,” Sophia exclaimed, excited. “If I could, I would go riding every day. In Brazil, I have two horses. Well, not anymore, since I gave them to Felipe. Black Devil is the one I rode in Rio and Lightning stayed at our house in Mangaratiba. I miss them,” she sighed. “I used to go riding at least four times a week.”

“You can ride as much as you want here and at our stables in London,” Lachlann interjected. “I have some new horses that have just completed their training. I’m sending them to London in two or three weeks.”

“To London,” she breathed, excited and turned to Alistair, “you never told me your father had a stable in London. Where is it?” she asked Lachlann.

“Near Kew Gardens, in Richmond,” answered Tavish, dryly. “In fact, I take care of them.”

“Ah, I see,” her excitement deflated.

“But I oversee the stables at Hyde Park, Sophia,” Alistair threw daggers at Tavish and pulled Sophia into his embrace, “I’ll take you there when I get back. We can ride on Rotten Row. It’s beautiful.”

“Really? On Rotten Row?” she frowned. How did I miss this?

“Rotten Row is-” Tavish started but stopped at the pointed look Sophia gave him.

“I know exactly what and where Rotten Row is, my lord. Isn’t it the most famous path? Called the King’s Drive? I’ve already ridden there,” she looked away, clearly dismissing him and turned to Lachlann. “Please, do tell me about the stables in Richmond.”

“Katherine, my wife, loved it there. It’s really beautiful. And the trails of Wimbledon Common and Richmond Park are some of the best for hacking in the south of England. More than three thousand acres of beautiful countryside right there for you. You won’t believe you are so close to Central London!”

“Ariadne has horse riding lessons twice a week at Hyde Park,” Alice said, “Why don’t you enroll Gabriela too? It’s a friendly, lively riding stable.”

“Does she like horses?” Alistair asked Sophia.

“Gabriela? She loves them. And she adores Kew Gardens.” Sophia stared at Alistair’s face. “You have to take us there.”

“The teachers there have a wealth of experience in developing the skills of capable riders and enthusiastic novices, Sophia. I can take you there,” Alice offered, “You don’t need to wait for Alistair-”

“Don’t you dare, Alice,” Alistair warned, seriously. “Sophia is my girlfriend, not yours. I’ll take her.” He put his hand over Sophia’s.

“Possessive, aren’t you, Brother?” Tavish leered at them.

Alistair’s face darkened, “Wouldn’t you be?”

“Indeed, Brother, indeed,” he ogled Sophia, from head to toe and back again, making Alistair’s temper seethe.

Lachlann discreetly nudged Tavish. “You can also go simply to ride for fun and relax. We’ll receive anyone who loves horses and riding. It will be my pleasure to take you there,” he offered, raising his brows at Tavish, “Make your plans with Alistair Connor and let me know. I’ll give you the first tour.”

“I’d love to, Lachlann. Thank you very much.” She smiled at him, “You are most kind.”

Alistair eyed her, measuring her. “One of the horses that arrived is just what I would recommend for you. Not too tall, not too nervous-”

Her laugh rang in the air. “Alistair Connor! With names like Black Devil and Lightning, my horses weren’t exactly small or meek.” She fished her iPhone from her jacket pocket and scrolled for photos. “Here. This is Black Devil.”

The picture showed a younger Sophia grinning at an equestrian ring, in full gear, seated on a huge, black stallion, its coat so black it seemed to shine midnight blue, with a white star on its forehead.

“You’re always surprising me.” He shook his head, his hair swinging softly. “What is his bred?” He cocked his head, studying the picture.

“He’s a Mangalarga Marchador. Typically Brazilian and very smooth with a light step, but powerful and huge.” She winked at him, “Just as I like.”

“Talk about contradictions,” he muttered and deviously chuckled. “Show me Lightning.”

“I have a video of us.” She touched the screen, “Mmm. Here.”

“Beautiful specimen,” he nodded as he watched the video, where a huge, pure white Andalusian stallion rubbed its head on Sophia’s hand. In turn, she stroked its muzzle and spoke softly. Then, gripping the reins and its long, shining mane, she put a foot on the fence and jumped on its bare back. She waved and galloped away at a fast pace, jumping over the other fence. His eyes widened and he laughed. “You’re crazy. Completely crazy.”

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” she said, longing showing in her voice, “I miss him.”

“Let me see.” Tavish, who had been watching her closely, rose from his place across the hearth, and sat on Sophia’s other side, purposely crowding her.

God! He’s a giant! Sophia lifted her gaze to his turbulent one and, once more, her eyes fixed on his storming greens. His eyes were so alike and so different from Alistair’s. He frowned at her. He’s doing this to intimidate you, Sophia. Don’t fall prey to his game. Shaking herself inwardly, she played the video again for him.

Inexorably, Tavish’s hand reached for her phone, staring flabbergasted at the short video. He blinked at Sophia, when it ended, “Bareback?”

“I grew up on Lightning’s back,” she shrugged, dismissing her achievement. “And this is Black Devil.”

Leonard stared at the scene with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “He won’t last,” he whispered to Alice.

“I do hope so,” she murmured back.

“You’re an amazing rider,” Tavish couldn’t hide his surprise. “Can I see that video again?”

Alistair’s arm snaked around Sophia’s waist. One more bewitched. But this woman is already mine. Find another one for yourself, Tavish Uilleam. Alistair brought her closer to his body as she put on the video again for a gaping Tavish.

Is she yours, Alistair Connor? Are you sure? “Aren’t you afraid of falling from these monsters?” Alistair asked Sophia.

“Hey!” She slapped his thigh. “They’re not monsters. They’re my babies.”

Oh, please, hit me; I’ll hit you, too. He almost moaned. “If they’re the babies, I don’t want to imagine their fathers.”

“They’re just perfect.” Her face lit up. “Strong, powerful, intelligent, beautiful, and loyal companions. With a touch of wildness, like me. Always untamed,” she sighed, contently. “There’s nothing more beautiful or earthy, than a spirited horse. I do love them.”

“You do?” Alistair breathed, looking deeply into her eyes, enthralling her. “A touch of wildness? And untamed?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, “forever untamed.”

“So it’s decided, lass. A wild horse for you,” Lachlann promised, breaking the spell. “And for tomorrow, I’ll bring a spirited one for you. I hope you don’t end up with broken bones.”

“Give me her iPhone, Tavish, I want to see, too,” Alice demanded.

Sophia shook herself out of the trance Alistair put her in and looked at Lachlann. “Broken bones? Hah! You will see.”

Then her smile waned. “Ah, but I can’t go tomorrow. I haven’t brought my boots.”

“You’re not running away from this, Sophia,” Lachlann shook a finger at her. “We have riding boots here, ranging from sizes four to fifteen. For men and women.”

“Up for a race?” Alice proposed after passing Sophia’s phone to Leonard and her father, who passed it on to Elena and Alexander.

“I just love challenges.” She looked at Alistair. “You in?”

He smiled darkly at her, “Depends on the prize.”

Saturday, March 6th, 2010.

7.27 a.m.

Craigdale Castle was quiet at that time of the morning. Alistair and Sophia strolled along the loch, hand in hand, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.

The mysterious waters of the loch, surrounded by the misty mountains rising from the Scottish earth, plunged Sophia into a state of dreaminess and deep restfulness.

They reentered the castle through the enormous double wooden doors. “Let me show you the other rooms.” He opened the door to a beautiful room all done in blue hues. “This is the blue drawing room. It was my mother’s favorite.”

Sophia looked at the huge painting of a woman hanging over the mantel. “Your mother?”

“Aye.”

They stood there for a moment looking at the serene and beautiful dark haired woman with sparkling blue eyes painted with Craigdale Castle in the background.

“She was ravishing,” Sophia murmured, seeing great similarity between mother and son. She took in the room. “What a beautiful grand piano.” Her hand caressed the lid, longingly. Since Gabriel’s kidnapping I haven’t- She shooed the thought away.

“My mother used to play for us every night. She taught us all to play it too.”

She stared at him, “You play? You never told me.”

“We all do,” he smiled. “I love playing the piano. One day I’ll play for you. Come, we have more rooms to see and I want to parade you by the pool.”

“Parade me?” she giggled and rose her brows at him, “How dare you, Alistair Connor. I’m not a mare being shown at a county fair.”

“No,” with two steps he drew near and pulled her into his arms, “you’re not. You’re a beautiful woman. One that any man would proudly show off on his arm.” He bent his head to kiss her, crushing her in his arms and she forgot all about pianos and mares.

Chapter 17

10.41 a.m.

Sophia opened the door of her suite after the impatient third knock.

Her mouth dried and she melted at the sight of Alistair dressed in a brown-and-red tweed hacking jacket with dark brown velvet lapels over a flannel white shirt and butterscotch breeches with leather patches on the inner sides of his knees. He was impatiently hitting his brown leather crop against his shining brown leather boots. The clothes fit his body to perfection and brought naughty thoughts to Sophia’s mind.

Oh, my! How do I ensnare this god? She breathed deeply and stepped back to let him into the anteroom, “Come in.”

Incapable of holding back, she blurted, “You look so handsome,” and threw her arms around his neck dragging him down for a kiss. Why are you always so dumb around handsome men? Sophia, Sophia, this is not the way to do it. She scolded herself and broke the kiss.

He smiled smugly, “Thanks.” He looked her over and frowned when he reached her feet, “Why are you still in socks?”

“Alistair, I… I don’t have the right clothes,” she motioned from his gear to her black studded leather jacket over a white turtleneck sweater and black faded jeans.

“You’re stalling.” Alistair dragged Sophia by the hand to an armchair. “Sit. Stay here.” He looked around, “Where are your sneakers?”

“Alistair, stop it,” she smiled amused, “I can dress myself.”

“Stay put,” he ordered. “Don’t move from that chair.” He went into the dressing room.

“Everyone is waiting for us.” His voice came from the inside the room, muffled. “Father has even brought the horses to the front door. And two pairs of boots for you to try on.” He emerged from the closet, bringing her black LV monogram sneakers and a red patterned shahtoosh. “Here. Put these on. It’s cold outside. And it doesn’t matter that you’re wearing jeans or that you don’t have the right clothes. I want to go riding with you.”

“Humpf,” she complained, lacing her sneakers. “This isn’t right.”

He hit the arm of the armchair hard with his crop startling Sophia, who craned her head to look up at him, surprised. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, “Maybe it’s not right, but it’s what I want.” He dropped onto his haunches to stare into her eyes, “And what I want, I get.” The sound of the crop hitting the armchair rhythmically rang out in the room.

Hello, Lord big-ego-Julius-Caesar! “Should I bow, say amen, or something similar, my Lord Ells?” she mocked, scooting to the edge of the armchair, caging him between her thighs.

“Aye, it’s better if you start learni-.”

Oh, please. She grabbed him by the velvet lapels and pulled him in an openmouthed, scorching kiss. He fell to his knees and his arms went around her, hauling her flush to his body, the shahtoosh, and his crop dropping from his hands behind her.

He was panting when she stopped the kiss.

She shoved the armchair back and jumped off it with an agile movement, “Dream on, my lord,” and ran away from him, waving, “dream on!”

Alistair watched dumbfounded as Sophia flew through the door, leaving him kneeling in the room. He picked up the fallen items and looked at them, daftly.

Unbidden, a smile spread on his lips and his sun shone brighter than it had in many months.

3.22 p.m.

Sophia pushed the doors to the pool lounge and looked around, searching for Alistair or Alice. No one. She entered the artfully decorated room. Palm trees in earthenware pots were placed around the high-ceilinged room. Soft music was playing in the background. The remoteness of the place appealed to her. Yes, this castle is enchanted.

She strolled to one of the lounge chairs and took off her gold and diamond Havaianas from H. Stern and the green, blue, and pink Indian sari she wore as a skirt folding and putting it in her straw bag. She started to take off the matching short jacket with long sleeves, but decided to keep it on. She looked at her watch. Why am I so damn neurotic about time? She sighed, lay down on the reclining chair, and switched on her Kindle.

So engrossed in the story, Sophia didn’t notice the door open and close, or the approaching steps.

Tavish cleared his throat, disgusted by the woman in her small bikini and barely there jacket lying on the chair.

Looking up, Sophia viewed two strong legs wearing long Vilebrequin shorts in a Bengal tiger print. A blue linen long-sleeved opened shirt showed off a spectacular torso with sculptured abs, broad chest, and shoulders. She sucked in a breath. Hot, hot, hot.

Her gaze lifted and she became acutely conscious of his turbulent stare taking in her Adriana Degreas bikini and how his brows were lifted with scorn. Oh, please, spare me. I’m not in the mood for a bullying rugged giant right now.

“There’s a shop upstairs that sells clothes and bathing suits,” he snorted.

Sophia rolled her eyes heavenward, but didn’t utter a word and turned back to her Kindle.

“So, what’s your plan? This feigned naïve behavior doesn’t fool me. No innocent young woman would hang around Alistair.”

What? Why not? She raised her brows at him and lifted her Kindle to avoid his stare, giving him the cold shoulder.

“Oh, no,” he said, walking to her side. “You won’t dismiss me as if you didn’t understand a word of what I’ve just said. I won’t be dismissed by someone like you.” And sat by her thigh.

Such a bold move startled Sophia. She snapped her Jimmy Choo Kindle cover shut and put it on the table, with a grim look on her face. She rose from her lounge chair, spine stiff, asking, “Someone like me?”

He rose carefully and circled the reclining chair. As he walked to her, trying to maintain a nonchalant pose, Sophia noticed his slight limp.

A sudden pity filled her heart, but she suffocated it deep down in her irritation.

“Why are you here?” Tavish hissed at her. “Aren’t you like the others?”

“What cryptic questions, my lord,” her voice was icy. “I came because of your father’s invitation. And how would I know how the others behaved? I can understand your words, but the manner of questioning must be old Scottish. Maybe it’s derived from your ancient barbaric Picts’ ways of torture, because I can’t make heads or tails of it. And quite frankly,” she lifted one eyebrow at him, “I don’t care.” She put on her sari and stepped away from him toward the door, too angry to care about her bag, Havaianas, and Kindle.

“Stop,” he said and gripped her left arm. “I want to talk to you.”

“But I don’t,” she answered, moving her arm brusquely away from his grip. She winced as a shock of pain lashed through it.

“What are you planning, Mrs. Leibowitz? What do you wish? I want to know why you really came here. You don’t need his money. Do want the title? His international status? Want a replacement for your late husband? A man to father your daughter?”

Sophia’s face fell at the aggressive and incoherent accusations. “Pardon?” she asked, flabbergasted. Breathe, Sophia, breathe. Remember your promise to Alice.

She looked straight ahead at the glass windows, focusing on the view of the extensive lawns outside, inhaling and exhaling deep and loud, “I don’t owe you any explanations.”

“Coward,” he muttered under his breath. “Just like the others.”

She turned her head back slowly to look at him, her chin high, “Did you just call me a coward?” Her hazel eyes darkened.

“I did. Go ahead,” he taunted, “run back to the arms of your dark lover and complain about my fucking bad manners.”

Go screw yourself, Lieutenant-Colonel-Doctor-Lord-Arrogance. This is it. The last straw. She seethed. No one talks about my family like that. Or calls me a coward. After everything I’ve been through, that is one thing I am not. The thought made her anger bubble and spill.

She fisted her hands, trying to control her temper. “Oh, you do have bad manners, my lord. And your language is deplorable.” Her eyes were thunderous as she turned to face him in a fluid motion, hissing, “I don’t need a replacement husband. Gabriela and I are doing just fine.” She stomped toward him and whipped her neck back to look at his face. She felt as a joint cracked with her sharp movement. Damn. Does he have to be so tall and handsome? “And I don’t look for anyone’s protection. I’m going to show you who is the coward here.”

Tavish’s face showed his surprise at Sophia’s fearless behavior. None of Alistair’s other women would have the audacity to confront him.

“Now, my lord,” she spat the words, past all reason, taunting him, “let me make some things clear. I don’t like this bullying of yours. I don’t understand what I’ve done to prompt such antagonism. But, you know what? I don’t give a damn. I’ve had enough of your abuse. Do you think you can go around throwing unfair accusations or creating scenes just because you were a prisoner of war? Do you?” She stepped in his direction, furious. “Well, let me tell one thing. You’re still alive and you have to live the best way you can. I won’t take pity on you. And people will tire of your wailings.” She invaded his personal space, poking at his chest. “Come on, man up. Look around. There are people suffering much worse than you.”

Tavish didn’t even flinch, his jaw locked so hard he thought he might break his teeth. He narrowed his eyes, struggling to decipher the enraged woman before him. “And what would you know about real life, Mrs. Leibowitz? So rich, so pampered.”

Wrath seized Sophia. “As if,” she snorted, bitterly. “My lord, you have no idea what I know about life. But you’re not going to see me complaining or judging others unfairly. You want to be miserable, be miserable. By yourself. Don’t bother the ones who are trying to rebuild their lives. Leave your brother and me alone.” Sophia’s face flushed as she became breathless with rage.

He bared his teeth at her in an animalistic gesture. “But that’s not what you want, is it, Mrs. Leibowitz? You can fool all of them, but you don’t fool me. This time I won’t let Alistair and our family be hurt.”

This guy is really crazy. “Huh?”

“I see the way you look at me. You want me too. You want us both.”

Sophia’s mouth dropped open. “What?” she whispered.

“Aye, Alistair and me. In your bed. Isn’t this-”

Sophia slapped him hard. “Enough!”

He backed away, unsteady, and put his hand on his burning cheek.

“You’re arrogant, presumptuous, and sick. I don’t know where you got that warped idea from. And I don’t have to listen to you.”

She turned, determined to leave the pool just as the doors opened and Alistair, Alice, and Leonard entered, laughing.

Alice was the first to notice the strained air between Sofia and her brother. She paled.

Leonard stopped mid-stride by her side.

Surprise flickered in Alistair’s face.

And Sophia froze in place.

“What’s going on here?” Alistair frowned and his face became dark when he saw Sophia’s hand imprinted on Tavish’s cheek. “Tavish Uilleam?” he asked ominously.

Sophia looked over her shoulder at Tavish. It felt like he had no intention of answering his brother and Sophia wondered why. He looked thoughtfully at her for a second, as if waiting for a response from her.

“A… misunderstanding.” Tavish answered finally.

“Sophia?” Alistair walked up to her, scowling.

She looked at Alistair’s handsome face and recalled Alice’s plea and her pledge in return. Determined, Sophia schooled her face and focused her gaze on Alistair’s green linen shirt. It doesn’t matter why Tavish spoke like that. Not anymore. I stood my ground and said my piece. She peered at the red mark on Tavish’s face and smiled, unbidden. Yeah, I said my piece all right. Feeling lighter, she decided to let it go. “It’s like he said. A misunderstanding.”

Tavish shoved his brother aside. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I really am. I mistook you for someone else.”

Sophia’s eyes opened wide. The gesture and words were so unexpected. She glanced at Alistair, who was rooted to the ground, looking at the scene. His lips tightened in one harsh line.

“Apology accepted,” she whispered back and disengaged from his hold and walked to Alistair’s side. She put her arm around his waist. Alistair put his arm loosely over her shoulder.

Before one of them could say a word, Alice blurted out, “What a beautiful outfit, Sophia.”

Sophia sagged inwards, thankful for the remark. “Thanks, Alice, Felipe brought the sari from India, and Victoria made it for me.” She inhaled quietly trying to calm her emotions and smiled at her friend, “She is studying fashion design at the Polimoda Institute in Florence and she’s quite talented.”

“There’s a wonderful fashion school in London, too. Our mother studied there.” Alice caught her hand and pulled her to the farthest reclining chair, sitting by her. “Why did she choose Florence?”

“Oh, you know how twins are. Valentina was awarded a scholarship at Lorenzo de’ Medici, where she studies art and interior design, so Vic followed. She wanted to go to Paris but Val didn’t want to lose her scholarship.”

Alice stared into Sophia’s eyes and asked in a whisper, “What happened, Sophia?”

“Nothing, Alice. Nothing.” There’s no need to upset Alice, Sophia. Besides, he apologized.

“He must have done some-”

“I’ve accepted his apology. It’s all fine.” Sophia tilted her head and asked, “He said,” she made quotes in the air, “he mistook me for someone else. What did he mean by that?”

Alice sighed, “Sophia, Heather was…” She waved her hand in the air, forlornly, “She was despicable. Tavish Uilleam hated her. From the very beginning.”

“But what happened to make him hate her so much?”

“I don’t know. They were best friends, Alistair Connor and Tavish Uilleam. But Alistair didn’t heed his advice. He’s too stubborn. He was young and in love.” She shook her head, dejected, “She was a ravishing woman. And a seductress. Men fell at her feet like leaves in autumn. Alistair was the richest and most handsome of them all. She trapped him in her diseased, dark net.”

Sophia’s jealousy raged so that the two last sentences didn’t register.

So, Heather was Aphrodite. And Alistair had been in love with her. She felt her heart constrict in her chest with sadness. You know the drill, Sophia. That is why he doesn’t want another serious relationship. He probably misses her still. She felt unhappy for him and for herself.

Sophia tilted her head to the side and looked thoughtfully at the three handsome men talking at the other side of the pool. She only saw Alistair. How will I measure against his first love?

He caught her looking at him and flashed his stunning smile at her.

Tavish noticed the exchange and looked at Leonard, with his brows raised. Tavish saw a hint of love in Alistair’s smile, something not seen in a long while.

In fact, he had never seen Alistair smile like that at any woman. Never

5.18 p.m.

Hand in hand, Sophia and Alistair strolled in the gardens, headed toward the maze. The sun just beginning to set. The sky started to color pink and orange, turning an already lovely landscape into a superlative vista.

“Your brother is quite the contradiction,” she said, hesitantly, her hand brushing the trimmed leaves of the cypress hedges that formed the enormous maze. “He’s mean one moment, then nice the next. Even with you, he has mercurial moods. Threatening one moment, then protective. He’s so difficult to figure out.”

“He’s distrustful of you and it’s my fault,” he scowled and thinned his lips. “Give him some time to know you. He’ll come around.”

“And in spite of his rudeness, I like him. A lot. He’s intelligent, creative, and caring. He’s very protective of your family. But he’s also very stern.”

“You’d have liked the Tavish from before the war. He was quick-witted, always high-spirited. He used to make everyone around him laugh,” he sighed. “Now, he’s blue and serious.”

“What happened?”

“He never talks about it with us. All we know is, after being a prisoner of war for months, he was shot in the thigh during his escape. He was captured, probably ambushed, when tending to a corporal who stepped on a mine in the street. Both were captured. The corporal died. We don’t know how. He never talks about it. We know nothing more.”

“He doesn’t talk? At all?”

“Nae,” Alistair shook his head. “He sees his shrink in London, twice a week, but that’s all.”

They sat on a bench in the middle of the maze and Alistair put an arm around Sophia’s shoulders, entwining the hair that fell over it in his fingers.

She turned, resting her upper leg and knee on the bench to look at Alistair’s eyes and murmured, “I love your eyes, did you know that? I have never seen eyes as green as yours. They put the leaves of the Amazon Forest to shame. And your unbelievably long and dark lashes make them even more startling.” She raised her fingers brushing his lashes and his eyebrow. “It should be forbidden to be so handsome.”

How is such a simple, gentle touch so arousing? Alistair felt his whole body stir with that simple caress. No one had touched him so lovingly before.

She cupped his face, sliding a finger over his nose. “Your regal nose,” and down her finger went, “your mouth.” She caressed his jaw line, “Everything about you is rugged, earthy. You’re…” her lips parted, “breathtaking.”

Alistair smiled, “You’re stealing my lines. What am I supposed to say now?” His fingers trailed over her face, over her jaw, and down her throat, his green eyes blistering with desire.

“I want you, Sophia,” he whispered, his gaze hypnotizing her, “Badly.” He framed her face and his head bent, his emerald eyes studying her. “Let’s go to my room. Or yours.”

She blinked, feeling burned by his scorching gaze. “Alistair, please, don’t insist.”

“I want to devour you.” His lips brushed hers, caressing smoothly, before lightly pressing his tongue on the seam of her lips. “You’ve turned me into a greedy, hungry beast.” Beauty and the beast. It figures.

She batted her lashes at him. “I can give you a taste.” She opened to him like a flower seeking water and closed her eyes to enjoy all the passion he put in a simple kiss. His lips were warm, soft, unyielding, and demanded total surrender.

He turned his body to face her. “I don’t want a taste,” he murmured after the kiss, “I want it all.” His hands released her face to wander over her shoulders and unnervingly slowly down her body to find her breasts. He palmed them over her cashmere sweater.

She moaned and arched her back. Her hands sought his shoulders for support. He buried his face on her neck.

“You’re like velvet, like silk,” he said between kisses. “Please, Sophia. Say yes.”

“Good things come…” Her head fell back, giving him total access to her throat “to those who wait. Patience is a virtue, Alistair.”

“I’m patient,” he murmured on her lips “but I’ve told you, I’m no saint.” He smashed her lips into his with a savage kiss. When he broke it, he raised his head to look at her. His kiss left her panting with reddened and swollen lips. He couldn’t resist that vision of beauty in front of him; grabbing her by the hips, he made her straddle him. Sophia jerked away in astonishment, opening her eyes wide.

Alistair gazed deeply at her. “Hush, we’re alone,” before dropping his head again to kiss her leisurely.

Sophia blinked, dizzy with lust, the kisses and the heady thrill of his love. “We’re outside.”

“God won’t be offended,” he whispered back, dragging up her burgundy sweater with one hand. “You’re heaven, you’re paradise.” Firm hands cupped her ass and yanked her tightly against him, grounding her against his erection, rocking her hips.

“This is,” she moaned when his teeth nipped her earlobe, “blasphemy,” she teased in a hoarse voice. Her fingers tangled in his silky hair and she drank greedily from his mouth, stealing his breath away.

Her hand stroked his soft hair. She leveled herself on his steel-like shoulder.

“No. It’s not.” His right hand snaked under her Emilio Pucci tank top. “It’s gospel.”

His deft left hand popped open the button of her leather pants and pulled down the zipper, touching her smooth, flat stomach. “Sophia.”

She made a low, long, gasping sound and he smiled, devilishly.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, moving his mouth over her jaw to capture her mouth again in a hard kiss, coaching the responses he wanted from her.

Sophia lost herself in so many sensations. They started to move together, lust taking control. She felt his erection harden even more.

His fingers touched her lace and satin panties and he growled low in her mouth, the sound a rumble in his chest.

Sophia startled and broke the kiss, gasping. Disengaging from the embrace, she stepped away unsteadily, breathing heavy and adjusting her clothes back into place.

Alistair rose and stood behind her, his arms hugging her waist, bringing her to lean on him. She could feel his raging erection on her back. Her head fell to the side nestling between his chest and arm.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He rested his face on her cheek. “I told you we’re alone.”

“That’s not it. I’m not that kind of woman. I don’t make out in public or…” She shook her head as she remembered Tavish’s and Alice’s earlier words. “You’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“I’m not mistaking you for anyone else. I just got carried away,” he said, nonplussed, turning her in his embrace to face him. “We got carried away.” So, what kind of woman are you, Sophia? “Come now.” He bent his head. “Don’t play coy with me,” he whispered in her ear.

“I’m not pretending,” she snapped at him shoving both hands in her hair. “I’m confused.” She bit her bottom lip hard.

“Confused about what?” He gently coached her lip from her teeth.

She shook her head, mute.

“Sophia, talk to me.” He framed her face and lifted it to scan her features. He wanted to look at her eyes but she kept them averted. “Talk to me. What are you confused about?” He stroked her lip with his thumb.

“My feelings,” she breathed. “I like you. I really do.” But I wish I didn’t. I’m afraid you’re going to break my heart.

“So?”

“So?” she repeated, dumbly. I don’t want to be hurt again.

“If you like me, why do you keep torturing me?” He lifted her face an inch more. “Look at me, Sophia,” he ordered. Damned impossible woman.

She slowly raised her eyelids. The intensity of emotions simmering inside her eyes startled him.

“And if I said I was afraid?”

“What are you afraid of?” he asked kindly. “Tell me and we’ll work it out together. There’s no reason to be afraid.”

“I do like you. Nonetheless, I-” she put a hand on his chest “please, don’t be angry…” he shook his head and she continued, “sometimes I think you’re more than you let me see. You’re so different from what I’m used to. You’re mercurial. As is your brother.”

Christ! What kind of powers does this woman possess? Then a thought struck his mind, leaving him cold. Baptist isn’t the only one in Britain that does that kind of service. He knew of at least four or five good ones.

“You’re… stubborn and overpowering,” Sophia whispered, her breath an airy kiss against the skin of his chest exposed by his V-neck black cashmere sweater, “you have a terrible temper. You’re arrogant, with a tendency to sulk and you seek darkness. Your flaws are numerous and they are multiplying.”

He couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. He growled and, squeezing her, he dipped his head and bit her shoulder, making her cry out.

“But then, you’re protective and steadfast. You’re kind and gentle. You’re intelligent and thoughtful.” Her fingers brushed his jaw softly, as if a breeze caressed him. “You make me laugh.”

“Ah, I see. And this is a remarkable accomplishment?”

“Yes, it is. You really make me laugh. I feel… happy, when I’m around you.”

“I don’t understand.” He stole a bemused glance at her. No man with any sense in his head made the mistake of thinking he understood women and Alistair never before had tried. But he wanted to understand Sophia.

But this one, this one, she utterly mystifies me. “So why you keep pushing me away?”

“I don’t.” She shook her head, “I don’t push you away. It’s just that I don’t know you and I’m afraid.” Of my own feelings.

“Very well.” He took a ragged breath. “So, let me tell you, Sophia, you’re unpredictable and mysterious. Utterly inconstant and temperamental. Your mood is as changeable as the weather. I cannot read you, sweetheart.”

“I’m not a book,” she scowled at him.

“I know,” he chuckled. “Believe me, I do. You’re a ravishing woman, Sophia. An intriguing, fascinating, and stunning woman. A challenge. And I’ve always liked a challenge.”

“I’m no challenge, either,” she snapped.

He chuckled low in his chest. The sound was downright male. “Yes, you are. You know,” he breathed against her lips, his deep voice vibrating inside his chest, “it’s never been like this for me.”

What is he talking about? The need, the lust? Cupping his jaw in her soft, long hands, she asked. “What? What has never been like this?”

“A woman. This need, this desire, this yearning. It’s so strong, so uncontrollable, and so savage that it hurts.” His green eyes blistered her, “No one else will do. I crave you. Every minute, every second. Not only your body. It’s you. Only you. All of you. Please, say yes.”

His grip on her hips was so virile, so encompassing, so hot, that it emboldened her and she initiated a deep kiss. He responded as an eager, ardent, and wild partner. She found herself trapped between two muscular thighs with a hand on her butt pressing her firmly toward his erection.

Sophia felt a power rush through her body when Alistair’s hand gripped her shirt raising it over her breasts. She knew she should stop him. The maze was no place for this. But she couldn’t.

This power she had over him: intoxicating, terrifying, and glorious.

Instead of stopping him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved her breasts toward the scorching heat of his chest. She rubbed against him to quench a wild thirst she had never acknowledged before. She felt caught in the middle of a storm she couldn’t control.

Alistair’s deep groan transmitted the longing he felt. Longing for her body, longing for her soul.

I want her as I’ve never wanted anyone. God forgive me for promises unkept, but she’s gotten under my skin. His hands clenched and unclenched on her Pucci tank top.

“Is that a yes?” His voice, now hoarse from the exhilarating feeling of possessiveness coursing through his veins. She was kissing and licking him, wanting to explore every inch of his body. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. He inhaled sharply as her hands wandered under his sweater, her fingers outlining his sculpted abs, lowering to the seam of his jeans. Yes, please.

Her lips and tongue tasted the line of his jaw, fascinated and drugged by her power to undo this intense man. She inhaled his sweet, male scent, letting it fill her lungs. “No. This is a no. For now.”

Alistair froze and lifted his head to glare at her. “You’re playing with fire, Sophia.” His hands clenched behind her back, his arms narrowing his embrace around her lean and beautiful body, pulling her flush to his hard frame. He warned, “You’re going to get burned.”

She bit his neck and smirked at him, “So are you, Alistair Connor, so are you.”

Chapter 18

Scotland, Glasgow Airport.

Monday, March 8th, 2010.

8 a.m.

“Until Thursday.” Alistair’s hair glittered a bluish-black in the frigid morning sunlight as he held her face in the warmth of his hands, drowning her in his emerald green eyes.

Sophia suddenly regretted not having stayed with him in his room at Craigdale Castle, as the thought of not seeing him for four days hit her hard. She wound her arms around his waist not wanting to let go.

Alistair watched in pleased disbelief as Sophia almost curled into his chest, her cheek resting on him, her arms hugging him under the jacket of his black three-piece suit as if she wished to stay. She felt so small, fragile, and feminine against him. He gently stroked her back with his left hand as he held her jaw with the right, lifting it to look at her.

“Hey,” he murmured, “what is it?” He placed his arm around her, wreathed loosely around her waist.

He wanted her physically, and he’d never pretended otherwise. However, he’d just entered in contact with a visceral reaction, an overwhelming tenderness that filled his chest.

She stood on her tiptoes and murmured in his ear, “I’ll miss you, Alistair Connor.” Gently, she brushed his hair behind his ear, tracing its contour, “More than you could ever imagine.”

Alistair felt an unfamiliar itch to do something stupid. To ignore what was right or wrong and whisk her away to a desert island until all this maddening lust and the insane unnamed emotion he felt for her slackened. Faded.

He gave himself a brisk mental shake. “I’ll miss you, too.” He kissed her ardently and hard, leaving her breathless. “Now, go! I have a meeting in thirty minutes and you have to go to London. Kiss my Fairy for me. Tell her she’s the most beautiful Sleeping Beauty of all.”

“I will,” she brushed her lips over his and left his arms. “Good-bye,” she whispered.

She stepped away, head down, feeling lonely and despondent.

Suddenly his arms shot forward and he hauled her, airborne, back into his arms, face to face with him. “Sophia, Sophia,” he breathed on her lips before smashing them with a scorching kiss, branding her, tattooing her. With his smell, his mouth, his hands and his body. Marking her as his.

She threw her arms around his neck and entangled her hands into his glorious hair, returning the kiss with all her might.

He broke the kiss and put her on her feet again. “Only four days. Not even,” he murmured. “Three and a half days.”

“I know,” his jacket muffled her voice, “it’s just… It seems a long time. I miss you already.”

He kissed the top of her head and hugged her fiercely, before pushing her tenderly off him. “Go. We can’t hold air traffic.”

He stood there, careless of the frigid wind blowing his long hair. He watched Sophia walk to his plane, turn, wave, and disappear inside it. When the door closed, an unrecognizable sensation spread and consumed his chest, leaving him dazzled by the powerful intensity of it.

He shook his head and thinned his lips. Come now, Alistair Connor. This is just a passing infatuation. Once you have her, it’ll disappear.

Turning his back to the aircraft, he resolutely marched to the marine BMW 760Li, entering it without looking back.

Atwood House.

Tuesday, March 9th, 2010.

9.30 p.m.

Sophia emerged from the bathroom toweling her wet hair. She flung herself on the bed and picked up her iPhone. Oh, my! The man is freaking out. Eight WhatsApp messages and three calls. All unanswered.

She quickly scanned the messages Alistair had sent over the last three hours and texted back.

09:31. Sophia: Sorry, I was with G.

09:32. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: It’s too late for her to go to sleep.

09:32. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: I wanted to talk to you. I just entered a meeting.

09:32. Sophia: She slept 1.5 hours ago. I ate something and just got out of the shower.

09:33. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Can I drop by to help dry you?

Sophia could almost see his devilish green eyes flashing. A malicious smile spread over her face as she texted back.

09:34. Sophia: Yes, please. I’m quite wet!

She grinned, imagining his body’s reaction to the text. Hmm.

09:34. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

09:34. Sophia:

09:35. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it:

09:35. Sophia: xxx

09:36. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Think this is funny, huh?

09:36. Sophia: Where are you?

09:37. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Still in an endless, boring meeting at the bank. No light at the end of the tunnel.

Sophia smiled. He had never sent her such a playful message.

09:37. Sophia: Poor baby! Call me tomorrow morning, then.

09:39. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Sleep well, Beauty.

09:39. Sophia: You, too.

She grinned broadly and texted again.

09:39. Sophia: Dream of me. Good night.

09:41. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: As if I could avoid it. You’ve taken permanent residence in my mind. Good night.

Sophia switched off her cell phone and chose her classical playlist. She sat on her bed with her Kindle, when a thought startled her.

And in your heart, Alistair Connor? Who resides in your heart?

London, The City. L’Anima.

Wednesday, March 10th, 2010.

1 p.m.

Sophia’s iPhone vibrated for the nth time. It was in her purse she had placed on her thighs. She discretely took out the phone and glanced down at her lap. Alerts and banners filled her screen. Dear God! Seven WhatsApp messages, three e-mails, and two calls. All from Alistair. Doesn’t he have to work? She quickly scanned his messages.

10:31. Morning, Beauty.

10:53. Miss you.

11:46. Busy?

12:14. Sarah doesn’t know your whereabouts. Where are you?

12:37. I’m becoming anxious and you’re not helping.

12:49. Answer the damn phone.

01:00. You are so dead on Thursday.

Edward swung his keen, blue eyes in her direction, and caught her looking at her iPhone. He tapped her foot under the table and shook his head at her. “Mrs. Leibowitz shares my opinion about the generator design we have sent you, Mr. Robin.”

Damn. She closed her fingers over the phone and looked sheepishly at him, who glared at her in return, pushing back the blonde lock. I’m sorry, Mr. CEO, I’m sorry.

“Yes, of course,” Sophia smiled candidly at the two technicians and the senior partner of Robin Enterprises seated at the round table opposite her. She ignored the buzzing of another message and paid attention to the conversation.

Edward started to explain about the budget of Leibowitz Oil and his voice became distant as her cell phone vibrated again, and she peered down, incapable of holding back her curiosity.

01:14. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Are you angry with me?

01:19. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Is everything all right with you?

Decidedly, the man has freaked out. Again.

01:19. Sophia: CALM DOWN!

01:19. Sophia: Text you back in 15.

01:21. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: NO NEED FOR CAPITAL LETTERS.

01:21. Sophia: NO NEED TO FREAK OUT.

Sophia smiled and shoved her cell phone in her purse. The lunch finished without any other messages or calls.

Scotland, Inverness. Cafe 1.

1.30 p.m.

Alistair’s face had become so dark and taut that Tavish nudged him in the ribs and whispered, “You’re going to scare the clients away. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” His voice clipped. He put down his silverware. His stomach queasy. “Go on, Tavish, let them know our interest in their account,” he murmured back. “Let me see how you fare in your new position,” Alistair provoked his brother.

Tavish threw him a dirty look and turned to the three men at the table, while Alistair scowled at his iPhone screen as if it were responsible for his bad mood. Tavish glanced at Alistair and kicked his shin to make him pay attention to the business at hand.

As the conversation flowed, he flicked his gaze at his phone a few times. Fuck. What’s your problem, Alistair Connor? It’s only a woman, for Christ’s sake. Only. A. Woman. He sang the words in his mind in a futile attempt to convince himself. If she is just a woman, Alistair Connor, why are you all tied up in knots like this? His phone pinged and his eyes narrowed at the screen, turning off the sound.

01:47. Beauty: Hi.

He frowned, uncertain of his mood and what he should answer. He went for a rebuke.

01:48. Alistair: Too late for niceties.

His phone vibrated a few more times and he oscillated between the business conversation and the desire to look at his screen.

01:49. Beauty: Breathe!

01:49. Beauty: Breathe in, breathe out!

01:49. Beauty: Calmer now?

How dare she? He fumed and texted quickly back.

01:57. Alistair: NO!

01:57. Alistair: What were you doing? What took you so long to answer me?

01:57. Beauty: I was in a lunch meeting.

01:58. Alistair: So?

He breathed deeply trying to rein in his emotions. But jealousy had already set in. And he didn’t resist its pull. As she didn’t text back, he sent another message.

01:59. Alistair: All this time? WITH WHOM?

He lost track of the conversation going on at the table. He raised his eyebrows at Tavish in quiet desperation, who just smiled in return. His cell phone vibrated again.

02:00. Beauty: No. I was in a meeting outside the office before.

02:00. Alistair: So?

02:00. Beauty: So, what? It was work, dammit.

He pressed his lips in a thin line as he read her petulant and impatient answer.

02:03. Alistair: With whom?

02:05. Beauty: Drink a glass of water. With lots of sugar.

He saw red and started to type when another message appeared. He rose and excused himself, walking toward the toilet as more messages came in.

02:05. Beauty: Go to a yoga session.

02:06. Beauty: See a shrink.

Fuck. Double fuck. He entered the bathroom, speed-dialing Sophia’s number as another message came in.

02:06. Beauty: I’m switching off for today. I’ve had enough.

London, on the way to Leibowitz Oil Building.

2.08 p.m.

Sophia switched off her iPhone just as it rang and looked at Edward, who chuckled. She threw her hands up in the air. “I’m done with pushy, overbearing, domineering, jealous, bullshitting CEOs. I’m going to find myself a nice docile trainee, for once. Maybe one of the Strathclyde University students. Someone I can bully and push around for a change.”

“I volunteer,” he said immediately, lifting a blond eyebrow at her.

She sighed, “As if I could ever push you around, Edward.”

“You can, Sophia, you can,” he mumbled, under his breath, “more than you know.”

Inverness. Rocpool Hotel, Chez Roux Restaurant.

10 p.m.

Tavish’s permanent, smug smile was irritating Alistair.

“What is your problem, Tavish Uilleam?” He stabbed a piece of Strathdon Blue cheese and bit into it.

“What’s your problem? You’ve been furious since the lunch ended.” His smirk broadened, “It’s her, isn’t it? A woman driving the mighty Alistair Connor insane. Come on, she is just one more woman.”

Alistair shook his head, aggravated. “Why do you think I am,” he made quotes in the air, “‘the mighty Alistair Connor’, huh?”

“Oh, Brother. You’re handsome, powerful, rich. You have everything. And besides, how many women have you had and dismissed, recently?”

“Before her, you mean?”

Tavish’s eyes widened, “Before her? No, surely not.”

Alistair nodded and Tavish’s eyes grew bigger, “Nooo. Have you been monogamous since her? How long?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really keep track of days, you know?” As if.

Tavish laughed, the sound so dear and alien to Alistair that he decided to indulge his brother, just to hear it once more.

“I don’t believe it,” Tavish said. “How long? Two weeks?”

“Since January, the twenty-second. Fuck, Tavish Uilleam, I even know the day.”

Tavish froze and then burst into a fit of laughter that brought tears to his eyes. “You’ve been going out with her all this time and you’re still obsessed with her?” He wiped his eyes dry. “I don’t believe it,” he said and chuckled. “She’s a wonder in bed, no doubt.”

“I wish I knew,” Alistair muttered under his breath.

Tavish’s smile fell, “You haven’t had sex with her? After more than a month? Are you losing your touch?”

I hope not. “No. She was… occupied elsewhere.”

Tavish gaped at him, “I beg your pardon?”

“She was seeing Ethan Ashford. And when they broke up-” Alistair rubbed a hand over his nape. “Let me tell you the whole story.”

Tavish’s brows were knitted in a line. “You are planning to start a relationship without knowing what she thinks about your preferences?” Tavish returned to his serious mood.

Alistair’s brows shot to his hairline. “My preferences?” He schooled his features to an air of nonchalance.

“Oh, please, man! I’m not an idiot. Besides,” he drew in a huge breath, “Heather made them clear to me the day she approached me.”

“Heather?” Alistair’s face darkened again in a split second. “She approached you?”

Tavish looked at his brother and sighed, putting a hand over his brother’s. “Aye, she did. Once. Just before I left for Afghanistan.”

Thunderstruck, Alistair’s anger spiked. “I wish. She wasn’t. Dead. So I could kill her with my bare hands,” Alistair growled and downed his whisky in a gulp.

“She is dead. No more chance to right things, Alistair Connor. At least not with her.”

“So,” Alistair glanced at Tavish and back at their hands, “you know about our… preferences?”

“She hinted, yes.”

“Hinted?”

“It was enough, Alistair Connor. And, once, when she was at the pool, I saw the marks.”

Alistair’s mouth dropped open. “Marks?” he whispered, “What kind of marks?”

“Do you want me to tell you? Really?” Tavish shook his head at Alistair. “I saw things in my years as a doctor that I don’t want to see again. Women hurt, scarred, broken, and bleeding. Badly. Women from the Royal Army, who should hold their own against their husbands, boyfriends, lovers, whatever - but are too mentally impaired to do it. This is one of the reasons why I’m not a doctor anymore.”

“I’m not like that, Tavish Uilleam. I don’t hurt women.”

“No?” Tavish raised an eyebrow, “What do you call it, then? Is there a limit? What do you call hurting? And what have you been doing with all the others after that bitch of a wife?”

Tavish’s words shocked Alistair. “Do you think I would scar and bleed a woman?” he breathed. “Yes, there is a limit. Women that enter this kind of relationship usually set boundaries and,” he stared at his brother’s eyes for a moment, green pairing green, “I-” he raked his hand in his long hair. My own brother. Fuck. Leave the past in the past, Alistair Connor. Worry about the future. “She-” he interrupted himself and asked in a low voice, “What do you think I should do? With Sophia, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Maybe become the young Alistair Connor again? Go slow with her.” Tavish squeezed Alistair’s hand and let it go, “You need to think about it. Does she deserve punishment? Do you?”

“Punishment?” Tavish saw marks on Heather’s body. Am I a monster?

“Does she, Alistair Connor?” Tavish repeated, studying his brother’s face.

“No,” his voice hoarse, “not at all.”

“So, you know what to do,” was Tavish’s quiet answer.

London. Leibowitz Oil Building, Sophia’s Office.

Thursday, March 11th, 2010.

09.56 a.m.

09:56. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Morning, Beauty.

09:56. Sophia: Humph!

09:57. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Are you huffing at me?

09:57. Sophia: Yeah! I am.

09:57. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Oh, Sophia! You shouldn’t!

09:57. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Why did you turn off your iPhone and not answer even one of my calls?

09:58. Sophia: I don’t like neurotic men.

09:58. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Are you calling me neurotic?

09:59. Sophia: Oh, please. Where is your sense of humor? It’s too early to start fighting.

09:59. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Humph!

10:00. Sophia: Really? Call me when you’re in a better mood.

10:00. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Sophia, DON’T turn your mobile off.

10:01. Sophia: I’ll think about it.

10:01. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Sophia. I’m warning YOU.

10:02. Sophia: I’m not afraid of your threats.

10:02. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: You should be.

10:03. Sophia: Go see a shrink.

Scotland, Edinburgh. The City of London Bank.

1.45 p.m.

“Fuck,” Alistair swore loudly and banged his fist on the table. “Why did Douglas give this extensive credit line to such a small firm?” He rose from the chair and strolled to the window, watching the cars passing on the street below.

“I think we should call them to a meeting, today or tomorrow,” Tavish suggested, “and demand some guaranties.”

Alistair sighed heavily and turned to look at his brother, “Aye. Do it. Today or tomorrow. Not after one o’clock, though. I need to be in London before four.”

“I did some research, Alistair Connor. And I’ve talked to Douglas. I knew he wouldn’t be so careless. There is a solid family run distillery behind this firm. The father will probably vouch for his son. I’ll set a meeting with both.”

“The sooner, the better. I want to get back to London.” He fished his iPhone from his trouser pocket and speed-dialed Sophia’s number.

“Brother, this woman is turning you head over heels. I just hope she really is different,” Tavish shook his head at Alistair and left his brother’s office, a worried look on his rugged face.

“Sophia, it’s me, Alistair Connor,” he huffed.

“Hi, Handsome,” Sophia’s mouth spread in a wide grin. “What time are you arriving?”

He exhaled loudly, “Thing is, Sophia, I probably can’t get back today. I wish I could, but I’ve just found out that the Edinburgh branch granted a substantial loan without any collateral or guaranties. Tavish Uilleam is trying to schedule a meeting for later today or tomorrow morning.”

Sophia’s smile waned, “Oh. But… is everything okay?”

“I hope so. I still have some minor problems to see to but that’s the worst. I’m sorry. I can’t return today,” a longing tone in his voice. “You were right when you said we would be apart a long time. I wish you were here with me.”

I wish, too. “Tomorrow, Handsome. It’s just a few hours. They’ll fly by.”

“They won’t,” he complained, “they’ll crawl.”

Sophia smiled, “Are you pouting?”

“It seems so,” he smiled and then frowned at his childish reaction. Stop this, Alistair Connor. Man up. “So, what are you going to do tonight?”

“I’m going to dream about you,” she sighed.

“So, will I.” And Alistair’s face split into a broad, devious smile, “Naughty dreams, Sophia? The kind that leave you horny and wet?”

Sophia felt a rush of desire travel through her body, gathering at the pit of her belly. She tightened her thighs and murmured hoarsely, “Yes.”

“And do you seek release? Do you touch yourself?”

Sophia drew a sharp breath and felt giddy, “Alistair Connor!”

His sexy laughter echoed through his office, “Such a prude, Beauty. I can’t wait to debauch you.”

“You deviant.”

“What I’ll do to you, Sophia, you can’t even start to imagine,” he whispered in a sensuous tone.

Oh, my! “Alistair Connor, is this a booty call?”

“Aye, consider it. Please. I can send the G6 for you. Now.”

Oh, yeah. Please do. “I have to work, Alistair Connor. Stop tempting me.”

“Never, Sophia, never. I have an agenda to achieve.”

An agenda… “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You. In my bed.”

Ah! Sophia bit her lip to avoid moaning out loud. She inhaled deeply. Again. “I see.”

“And?” he breathed.

“And what?”

“Will you help me fulfill it?”

Oh, God, this man is impossible. “Alistair Connor, I will consider your kind request.”

“Who said it was a request?” he laughed, quietly. “Look at it more as a warning, Sophia.”

Warning? “Be careful, it can have the opposite effect, Handsome.”

“Sophia, I’m a master strategist. I never lose. You will fall. It’s just a matter of time.”

“If I fall, I’ll take you with me, Alistair Connor,” she purred.

“I live in hope, Sophia. Believe me. I do.”

London. Leibowitz Oil Building.

3.20 p.m.

The intercom buzzed, interrupting Sophia’s thoughts. “Yes, Sarah?”

“Mrs. L, it’s Mr. Ashford on your private line. It’s his second call. He insists on talking to you.”

Sophia blew out an irritated breath, “Transfer it, Sarah, please. And call Edward for me, will you? Tell him to come in without knocking. I’ll leave the door open.”

Edward entered Sophia’s office quietly and looked around. She stood by the windows looking at the River Thames while she talked on the phone.

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t,” she said softly but firmly.

He paused in the middle of the room and admired Sophia’s elegant and lean body delineated against London gray sky. He cleared his throat, catching her attention.

Sophia turned with a smile on her face and rolled her eyes heavenward making a face at the phone. “Ethan,” she mouthed to Edward.

He smiled back and walked up to where she stood, kissing her brow.

“I didn’t promise that, Ethan. Maybe we can schedule a lunch next week, but I’m busy this weekend.” She listened and replied to him, “Okay. I’ll make time for it next week and let you know, all right? I really have to go. I’ll send you an e-mail as soon as I make the reservations.”

Edward sternly shook his head at her and she waved his scowl away.

“Yes, okay. Do it and e-mail me. Take care, Ethan. Until next week.”

“Sophia, I don’t like this,” Edward frowned at her. “He’s being very insistent. It’s obvious that he still has feelings for you.”

“Please, Edward. We’ve talked about it. He’s just a friend. Nothing more.”

“You feel guilty. I don’t understand why. But I bet that is why you keep answering his calls. It’s not healthy. You should talk with Dr. Kent about this.”

“I will, I will. But really, I don’t see any harm in going out for a lunch. He’s a gentleman. And I have so few friends here.”

“Hmm. Just promise me you won’t encourage-”

“Edward! I don’t encourage anything. This isn’t funny. I would never play with Ethan’s feelings. He understands that we are just friends now. We had a lengthy talk over a lunch last Tuesday.”

Edward gapped at her.

“What?”

“You went out with him again,” he whispered.

“Oh, please, Edward. I didn’t go to bed with him. We had a quick lunch together. That’s it. I owed it to him.”

“Sophia, you owned him nothing. The guy hurt you. You should have gone to the police and pressed charges.” Edward’s temper spiked and he bristled, “I don’t believe what I’m hearing and I don’t believe I have to convince you of this. It’s your specialty. You worked on those kinds of cases in Brazil. How, tell me, how can you forgive an abuser like Ethan? He’s a violent man. You have to stop seeing him, Sophia.”

“Edward, you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. I’m involved with Alistair and what happened with Ethan is in the past.”

“So leave it in the past. Don’t answer his calls and don’t go out with him anymore. If you meet him, be polite, but from afar.”

Sophia studied Edward’s face, “Okay, all right. Maybe I’m being too lenient with Ethan. Maybe your view of the facts is correct.”

“Sometimes your inexperience in these sexual matters baffles me, you know?” He shook his head, “There is no maybe here, Sophia. Listen to my advice. I know what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll obey your orders.” Sophia kissed his cheek and walked to her chair.

He smiled at her tease and sat in one of the armchairs by her desk, “So, what did you call me for?”

Atwood House.

10.49 p.m.

Sophia’s cell phone pinged, stopping the music for a second. She picked up her iPhone, programmed the music separately on the Wi-Fi, and searched for the message.

10:49. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Are you sleeping?

10:49. Sophia: If I were, I’d have gladly awoken.

10:49. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: I’m at a boring dinner. Another one. The same blah-blah-blah.

10:50. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: What are you wearing?

10:50. Sophia: Ha-ha!

10:50. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Indulge me. I’m hundreds of miles away.

10:51. Sophia: Pay attention to your dinner partners.

10:51. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: I can only think of you.

Sophia smiled naughtily and texted.

10:52. Sophia: Nothing.

10:52. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Nothing, what?

10:53. Sophia: I’m naked. I sleep naked.

10:53. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

10:53. Sophia: NA-KED!

10:54. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Please, God, have mercy.

10:54. Sophia: Everything all right UP there?

10:54. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: NO. I don’t think I’ll be able to stand up.

Sophia thought for a second and bit her bottom lip, the malicious smile turning into giggle. She shoved the sheets away and rolled on the bed, resting on her stomach, supporting herself on her forearms.

10:56. Sophia: Want a blow job?

10:57. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: JESUS CHRIST!

10:57. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: You’re going to kill me from afar.

10:58. Sophia: No? Something lighter, then. Hmm.

10:58. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: You’re too distracting.

10:58. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: Tavish Uilleam is throwing daggers at me.

11:00. Sophia: I’m going to lick your lips and dip my tongue inside your mouth; caress your chest with my nails, while my hand dives in your tailored trousers looking for something hard.

11:01. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: ENOUGH. See you tomorrow.

Sophia laughed harder and sent her last message.

11:01. Sophia: Tomorrow, Handsome. Sweet dreams… if you can sleep.

Chapter 19

Leibowitz Oil Building.

Friday, March 12th, 2010.

4 p.m.

Sophia sat still for several minutes looking at the pulsing cursor on the blank page of her e-mail.

Standing up, she blew an irritated sigh that made a lock of midnight black hair fall over her eye. Impatiently, she pushed it aside. She never had any trouble figuring out how to solve Leibowitz’s problems before. Since lunchtime, she hadn’t managed a decent thought and now the day was ending. I can’t call Edward again. He’s going to tell me to fuck off. Literally.

Alistair kept popping into her head. He hadn’t returned yesterday and she missed him. A lot. She went to the window and placed her hands on the glass, not really looking at the astonishing view of the river.

What shall I do? Am I prepared to plunge into another relationship so soon? Oh, damn! Who am I fooling? I’m already in it. Deep.

She flexed her shoulder muscles and as she remembered her chat with Felipe the day before, a daring smile twisted her mouth. She returned to her table and picked up her iPhone to call Alice. Ariadne answered the phone.

“Hi, little princess. How are you?”

“Hello, Sophia. I’m fine, thank you. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, darling. Is your mother home?”

“Yes, hold on.” She shouted, “Mummy, Sophia’s on the phone.” Returning to the speaker she said, “She’s coming. How is Gabriela?”

“She’s okay. Planning our next trip,” Sophia chuckled. “She’s always plotting against me.”

“Can I come with you? Can I?” Ariadne begged.

“Sure, darling. Well, I mean, if your parents allow it.”

Sophia heard Alice’s voice, “Let me talk to Sophia, Ari. Go finish your homework.”

“Bye, Sophia, don’t forget me.”

“As if I could, dear.” Ariadne had won a special place in her heart. In truth, the whole family had.

“Hello, Sophia. How are you?”

“Hi, fine, thanks, Alice. And you?”

“I’m fine, dear. But I bet you’re better. There’s something different in your voice today. I’d say, uh, that you’re happier. Am I wrong?”

Sophia’s laugh tinkled in her office. “No. You’re right. I’ll confide in you, since I need your help. But you have to give me your word that you’ll keep this a secret until I, uh, tell you that it’s not a secret anymore, all right?”

“Oh! I love secrets!” she said in a whispered voice.

“Look, I haven’t decided yet because I haven’t talked to-Well, before I let know you know what I’m planning,” she said nervously, “I need to know if Gabriela can stay with you tonight?”

Sophia heard Alice catch her breath on the other side of the line.

“I don’t believe it,” she gushed. “You’re- Alistair- You decided to-” Alice didn’t know how to say it.

The whole idea so excited Sophia that she laughed huskily at Alice’s attempt to phrase her thoughts and asked, “How do you know we haven’t done it?”

“Oh, come on, Sophia. I know my brother. In fact, I think everyone can feel his tension when you’re near him. You’ve been giving Alistair a hard time.”

“Indeed. But it wasn’t my intention. However, I have decided to give him a chance. He’s too much of a temptation. Besides, he’s been a gentleman so far.” She laughed again, “I’m going to end his suffering. Alice…” she turned serious, “What do you think?”

“Sophia, you’re the best thing that could have happened to Alistair. I’ve never seen him happier than he is now.”

Sophia felt a chill envelop her, “But?”

“I- I don’t know if I ought to say this, but he still carries a heavy burden. Heather was-”

Sophia cut Alice short, “I’d prefer to hear the story from Alistair first, Alice, if you don’t mind. I know he still feels a great pain about Heather and Nathalie and their deaths, but I also have a past. I think we can, at least, try to work it out together.” She exhaled, feeling the cold seep away from her, “I don’t know about Heather, but I’m certain Gabriel wouldn’t want me miserable. Plus,” the smile returned to her face, “I like your brother as he is.”

“In that case, dear, if he does accept your invitation, tell Maria to bring Gabriela over. Anytime you want. And she can spend the weekend with us. How’s that?”

“Wow! Fantastic. Let me call Alistair.” She paused and asked, “Alice, do you think he won’t expect it? Will he be shocked? Would he prefer to take the lead?”

“Shocked? No, not at all. But then, tell me, what man wouldn’t like a surprise like this? Be bold.” She laughed, “I like this hidden side of yours.”

“Call you back in a few minutes.”

Sophia tapped her nails lightly on her keyboard absently, trying to decide what to do, what to say, excited and aroused by the prospect of making love to Alistair.

She picked up her phone and called him. At the first ring, he answered with his deep voice.

“Sophia,” he breathed, “I’ve missed you.” His way of answering the phone always amused her. No words or time wasted.

“I’ve missed you, too. How was your trip?”

“It could have been better. Nonetheless, I solved some big problems that required my attention. I’ve just arrived. I’m heading home. No more work today. I’ve had enough for a whole year.”

“You’re not pleased, are you?”

“Nae. I’ll have to go back, probably next Tuesday. It’s terrible.” His voice gruff.

She started to doubt if this was a good day to seduce him. “Listen, I thought that perhaps we could do something different today.”

“Like what?”

“Of course, if you’re up for it-”

He cut in, “I’m up for everything with you, Beauty. Just tell me what it is and I’ll be there.”

“Oh, nothing special. I thought about a quiet evening. You like pasta. I cook a mean pasta with carciofi. We could drink some of the French wine I bought and had no one to share it with,” she babbled. “Perhaps, we could watch a film. At my place. I mean if you like the idea.”

“Sounds great. Better than anything I could think of. I love pasta with artichokes. Want me to pick you up or shall we meet at your house?” His voice grew lighter.

Talk about mercurial moods. Sophia exhaled the breath caught in her lungs. “If you can pick me up at six, that would be fantastic. Call me just before you arrive, I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

“Perfect. Until six then, Beauty.”

Well, well, well. Until now, everything is going as planned.

Sophia called Alice first to tell her about what she had arranged with Alistair. Then she spoke to Maria, informing her that Gabriela and she were going to spend the weekend with the Allenthorps. And finally, Lucy, her housekeeper, giving some instructions for the evening.

From that minute on, Sophia couldn’t concentrate on anything. She decided to transfer the criminal case under her review to Paul Evergreen, a brilliant lawyer working for her foundation. She talked with him for a few minutes explaining her strategy. Unfortunately, the girl had killed her boyfriend, self-defense or not, with five shots. Evergreen could only try to alleviate the verdict.

Perhaps, if the girl had gone to the authorities asking for help as soon as the guy started beating her, the crime wouldn’t have happened. But if is a word that life doesn’t consider. She shook her head aggravated at the way women let themselves get involved in damaging relationships.

Now Leibowitz’s problems. She touched the intercom, “Edward, could you please come here for a second?”

“Yes, Sophia?” Edward entered her office and stopped dead in his tracks. He raised a finger, silencing her. “Don’t tell me. I already know.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sophia, you are as transparent as glass.” He perched a muscular thigh on her desk. “You decided to give the big guy a chance, huh?”

She laughed, nervously, “Yes, I think so. I planned a quiet evening at home. Pasta, soft music, and you know…”

“Hot sex,” he grinned at her.

“Edward!” she blushed.

“I didn’t know that grown women still blushed.” His grin widened at her blush. “Let me give you some advice.”

At a quarter to six, Sophia stood naked in her office bathroom and drying off from the shower she’d just had. Trying to get herself somewhat ready for the evening, she regretted arranging for Alistair to pick her up at the office, instead of meeting at her house.

Now, I’m still wearing the same clothes I put on this morning. Damn! Way to go, Sophia!

She did her best. She put on a few drops of her favorite perfume from Creed, Sublime Vanilla - Sublimely Alistair - brushed her teeth and styled her hair until it shined. She dressed, putting on the heavy silk ivory blouse and long, loose caramel silk skirt. A varnished brown belt clung to her small waist and varnished brown peep toe pumps covered her feet.

When she exited the bathroom, she found Edward waiting for her. He leaned on her bookshelf with an open book in his hand. He whistled and turned his finger for her to twirl, “He won’t be able to resist. Don’t worry.” He closed the book and put it in its place.

“That’s not what’s worrying me,” she laughed nervously.

“Hey, love.” He rested a hand on her shoulder and curled his fingers under her chin, making her look at him, “There’s no need for this. Don’t try to impress him. Just be yourself. You’ve already caught him. I’m sure he isn’t expecting any more than you’re willing to give. Got it?”

“Thanks,” she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re the best friend a woman could want.”

“I’m glad you’ve met someone worthy of you. And you know what they say about number three, don’t you?”

She looked at him, puzzled.

“It’s the charm, love. Number three is the lucky one.” He swatted her butt. “Go. Enjoy your night. I’ll want a full and detailed report on Monday.”

She blushed and he laughed.

She threw her Louis Vuitton monogram bag on her shoulder, picked up her redingote, and exited the office. While heading to the lifts, she looked at the iPhone screen. Two calls from Alistair.

Damn! I hate being late.

She sprinted through the corridors and tapped her shoe while waiting for the lift to go down, looking at her Cosmograph Daytona Rolex. The seconds glided fast, making her even later. As soon as the door opened on the ground floor, she ran to the sliding doors, almost slamming into them.

He stood waiting for her next to his Range Rover. A lock of his hair, still damp from a recent shower, fell across his eyes. He looked absolutely incredible with a six-button double-breasted gray cardigan with its collar up. He had tied a long black-and-white scarf around his neck Ascot style. The scarf’s tips ended below his cardigan. His dark gray faded jeans hugged his long legs and made her mouth water.

When he saw her running, he grinned widely and scooped her by the waist, lifting her up, “Where are you going in such a hurry?” He kissed her on the lips.

“I’m late, sorry.”

“You’re worth the wait. You smell good,” he nuzzled her neck with his nose. “So, are you going to cook for me tonight?”

“Are you hungry?” she asked, her lips near his.

“Famished,” he said with a sensual innuendo in his voice and pulled her into his embrace for a real kiss, before opening the door for her.

He sat behind the steering wheel, starting the car, “How was your day?”

“Nothing special,” she said, plugging her iPhone into the car stereo and choosing a song list to play. “I missed you so much I couldn’t concentrate on what I was doing.”

“That’s bad,” he said dryly.

“You think so?” she stared at him, a gullible look at her face, imagining he was joking. “Why?”

“You shouldn’t let me disturb you,” he answered, seriously. “If you feel disturbed, it’s because your emotions are out of hand.”

Out of hand? OUT OF HAND? “You didn’t disturb me today, Alistair,” she said, hurt showing in her voice, “I missed you. You were away the whole week. I…” Damn you, Alistair Connor! Here comes one of your dark moods. “Stop the car!”

He looked at her, flabbergasted, “I beg your pardon?”

“I said: stop the car! Now, please!” She said with a low voice, but loaded with strength.

He found a place to park and turned to stare at her, “All right. I have stopped the car. What are you going to do now?”

“Talk. We’re going to talk, because either you meant something completely different from what I heard, or I heard it right and I didn’t like it.” He started to speak but she interrupted him, “I’m not finished. We have been going out for nearly a month. We see each other almost every day. Before this started, you once mentioned the attraction between us. You have been trying to get me in your bed since then. Now, pray tell me: Why shouldn’t I miss you? Why shouldn’t I think about you?” She frowned and shook her head. “What do you think I am? A robot? That I can switch on and off as I want?” She pierced him with a fierce gaze, “You didn’t disturb me, Alistair. On the contrary. I missed you, a lot. I like being with you. But, if this is bothering you, we can solve this problem right away. I won’t burden anyone.”

Alistair watched her as she vented her frustration, trying to remember what he said that had generated that outburst. He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Let’s start from the beginning. What did I say that hurt you so much?” Damn mercurial woman.

“You don’t know what you said?” Her eyes wide. Am I so insignificant?

“Listen, I’m tired. I know this isn’t an excuse, but I had a bad week. I might have said something wrong.” He exhaled a gust of breath, grabbing her hand, caressing it with his thumb, “I missed you, too. A lot, as you said. I also like being with you, more than you can imagine. Tell me, what did I say that made you so angry?”

“I said that I couldn’t concentrate on work because I missed you and you rebuked me, saying it was a bad thing. That I shouldn’t let you disturb me and that my emotions were out of hand.” She shook her head hard. “What do you want? Do you want a relationship with a woman who does not miss you and feels nothing for you? Who can spend a week without seeing you and not care? Is this what you wish? I’m not that woman. So, I’m not the woman for you.”

Not the woman for me? His facial expression registered shock. How can you be so stupid, Alistair Connor? He had spent all his nights alone in Scotland thinking about her, wishing she were feeling his absence as much as he did hers.

Since I discovered Heather’s betrayal, I’ve only had empty sex and never felt anything for a woman, but anger. He stared into her eyes, struggling to unveil her feelings. Her teeth biting her lip gave her - and her feelings - away. Again something stirred inside his chest, almost paining him. What do I want? Just a good fuck? Something more? Am I trying to push her away with words? Am I going to hurt her?

“Not the woman for me? Not the woman for me?” he whispered disturbed and shook his head, inhaling loudly, “No. You are. I’m sure. Believe me, I didn’t mean I don’t like that you missed me or even that you think about me so much that you can’t concentrate.” He caressed her face. “Nobody has ever told me that. It’s wonderful. I just…” he looked at her, troubled. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.” I don’t want to lose her; I can’t lose her. She makes me feel alive again. “Please, believe me.”

Sophia, whose gaze never strayed from his while he spoke, weighed her answer before nodding solemnly and avowing quietly, “I do,” she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Let’s go.”

Atwood House.

6.55 p.m.

When they neared her house, Sophia touched an application on her iPhone and a remote control appeared on the screen.

Bright lights illuminated an enormous white house, with imposing Roman columns behind tall black-and-golden iron gates.

Sophia turned to look at him, “This is the main entrance.”

His disbelief and hurt were imprinted on his face for a second before he schooled his features into his poker-faced look. “You don’t live here!”

“I do,” came the simple reply.

“This isn’t where I’ve been picking you up.”

“The renovations weren’t finished so I used the garden gates.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me before?” He asked, his expression impenetrable.

“I wanted to show you the house after it was done.” She tilted her head, looking at his face, “And I’m telling you now. Does it make any difference?”

“No. No, I guess not.” The inscrutable look vanished from his face as quickly as it came and a smile appeared.

“Park inside, there’s room in the garage.”

She touched a green button. The gates opened swiftly and smoothly. “You’re my first guest,” she beamed at him.

They passed a cabin and Sophia waved to the men inside. As Alistair looked pointedly at her, she shrugged and answered, “Security.”

Suddenly, his brows rose, “I knew I’d seen these gardens before! I’ve been here once at a party with Heather. The gardens are truly incredible.”

“Only the gardens?” she teased as she touched another button to turn on the lights in the house. “Turn right and go down the ramp.” She opened the gates and he parked in a spacious garage beside a silver Mercedes SLR McLaren Roadster 722s with an automatic retractable top and a Black Amethyst XJ Jaguar LWB Ultimate.

“I’ve never been inside the house before,” he answered. He grinned as she touched another button on her iPhone. “Is it voice activated as well?”

“Actually, it is, but I prefer to use it manually. I love these little facilities modern life provides. The house is intelligent. I’ve already turned on the lights and the heating,” she chuckled. “Thank, God, you’ve never been inside the house. It was terribly tacky. I remodeled everything. Trust a fortune hunter to ruin centuries of beauty with a supposedly contemporary touch,” she made a face. “After she redecorated it, she decided it was too big. She overbilled her husband, sweet Mr. Brenton, and embezzled his money. He found out, of course. I really don’t know what he saw in her besides her youth and superb body.”

“You met the former owners?”

“Yes, Mr. Brenton is a gentleman and the divorce upset him. Juliette really is a gold-digging whore,” she sneered.

He looked startled, “I’ve never heard you curse like that before. Juliette and Heather were friends.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she whirled to look at him, mortified, “I didn’t mean- I thought Mr. Brenton was your connection.”

A vicious expression had replaced his shock. “Heather was a gold-digging whore, too.”

“I’m so sorry.” Damn!

“Let’s not ruin our night talking about her.” He opened the door and left the car, walking around to open her door.

She got out of the car, putting her hand on his arm. She parted her lips, but before she could utter a word, his hand grabbed her waist and drew her body to his, cupping her nape and desperately kissing her open lips.

“Sophia…” he breathed on her mouth, not knowing if his control would hold. She kissed him back, her hands entwining in his hair. Somehow, he stopped kissing her to regain his senses and held her close to his body, pure torture. She breathed hard. He buried his head in her hair, panting. He already had a major hard-on.

“Sophia, it’s really okay.” He kissed her again, this time softly. “I’m not angry with you. It’s just that my memories of Heather are still raw. Come, show me your home. I want to see it.”

He knocked on the windshield of the Jaguar as he passed it and paused, frowning, “Bulletproof?”

“Yeah, both of them. Even the glass partition and the sunroof are bulletproof. I’m kind of paranoid about safety,” she explained. Staring into his green eyes, she asked softly, “Wouldn’t you be, too?”

“I guess,” he concurred. “Wonderful cars you have here.”

“I told you I liked to drive,” she smiled. “Gabriela is becoming the same. She chose the Jaguar with me. But she doesn’t like the McLaren.”

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t have a backseat,” she shrugged. “It’s not for children.”

“I see,” he murmured, distractedly, still admiring the McLaren.

Men will always be men. She shook her head and smiled, “Come,” she put her hand in his, pulling him. “This is the lower ground. There’s the garage,” Sophia felt glad her voice sounded almost normal, as she opened and closed doors, “a cellar, aaand here,” she pushed at tall double doors, motioning him inside. She touched a button and the lights came on, “A heated pool, a steamer, a complete gym, and spa room.” She pointed to the end of the room.

He looked at her dumbfound, “You really know how to live, don’t you?”

“This is Gabriela’s playground.”

His deep laughter echoed in the empty room. “Indeed. I’m sure Gabriela runs on the treadmill, lifts weights, and uses the steamer. And, naturally, she needs a semi-Olympic pool to play in.”

The pool lounge had reclining chairs with white padded mattresses and two square tables for eight. Everything readied for guests, towels in woven baskets skillfully distributed around the room and a wet bar.

“Okay, guilty. It’s my playground, too.” She turned off the lights.

“Stairs or lift?”

“Lift? What for?”

“Try carrying a sleeping Gabriela two flights of staaaaaa-” she screamed when he picked her up in his arms and started for the stairs.

He smiled wickedly at her, “I don’t think it’s a problem, do you, Sophia?”

“You’re crazy, did you know that?” she laughed, clinging to his neck.

“I’m crazy about you.” They reached the top of the stairs, “Where next?”

“Put me down,” she wiggled her legs.

“I like you where you are,” he retorted, his green eyes sparkling. “Right or left?”

“Right if you want to see the reception rooms first, left for the gardens and the office.” He turned right. She seized the moment to nibble at his earlobe, running her nails lightly on his nape.

Fuck. He felt a thrill run down his spine. “Stop that or I’ll drop you.”

“I doubt it,” she laughed, doing it again, this time rimming his ear with her tongue.

He put her down and backed her against the corridor wall, towering over her, “Don’t tease.” He pulled her up against his erection. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Sorry.” She kissed him lightly, smiling inward. If you only knew…

His hand grabbed hers, and turning it palm up, he placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist, nibbling it, his gaze burrowing into hers, “Don’t test my self-control, Sophia. I can’t be patient forever. Show me the rest of your home.”

She led him down the corridor, opening the door to the hallway. “The hall is more remarkable when seen from the front door; it makes a great first impression. I love its height. It’s almost thirty feet.” She made a face. “It was carpeted. Can you imagine how awful that looked?”

The black-and-white limestone flooring had been arranged in a repeating geometric pattern. In the middle of the hall, a huge Baccarat vase with fresh flowers commanded attention from its place on a round Chippendale table. An impressive Napoleon III gilt bronze and Baccarat chandelier hung from the ceiling.

“It’s stunning,” he said.

She looked around as if seeing it through his eyes, “Yes, it is.” She went to her right, opening walnut double doors. “This is the reception room.”

He entered a breathtaking room of three thousand-square feet with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side, which would allow natural light to stream into every corner. A black grand piano stood at the far end. The walls were lined with dark green damask silk accented with exquisite contemporary paintings. The sofas and armchairs were done in white-and-green silk damask. Pillows of varied colors, shades, and forms were scattered over them, bringing Sophia’s peculiar and warm touch into the room. Against one of the walls stood one of the remarkable Cucci cabinets, originally made for Louis XIV.

He gazed around. “Magnificent,” he breathed, in awe. He paused in front of a Picasso. “Truly. I wasn’t expecting this. Your apartment was much simpler. You did this all by yourself?”

“No, everyone helped.” She rearranged the pillows, pursing her lips and eyeing them before being content with her arrangement. “I chose the fabrics in Venice. Victoria and I picked some of the furniture in Paris. Valentina helped me choose the colors and had some brilliant ideas for the lighting and the kitchen. Felipe and Carolina did the architectural part. My siblings and I, we’re a team. I also had an English architect help organize the work and buy the basic materials. I brought some of the paintings I had in my apartment in Rio and bought some others. This room was worse than the hall. Felipe made an album for me,” she smiled, “Atwood House, before and after Sophia.”

They left the reception room and she closed the door, crossing the hall to the other set of double doors. “Here’s the dining room.”

“You dine here?” he asked, dumbstruck.

She laughed. “No, of course not. I use the kitchen. It’s cozier.”

The beautiful dining room, with its fifteen-foot ceiling, enclosed a table for sixteen. Three fantastic English silver salves rested on the table. Two exceptional Turner paintings topped Portuguese mahogany chests, which flanked each end of the room. A floor-to-ceiling glass panel let the light and faced the side garden, opposite the hall doors.

“You have eclectic taste for paintings,” he pointed.

“I have eclectic taste. Period,” she said as she walked toward the kitchen, closing all the doors behind her. “We decided to put this door here to give Gabriela some privacy when I entertain.” She touched another button on her iPhone, “What kind of music do you feel like?”

“Anything. I like anything you have on your mobile.”

“Hmm,” she pressed another button and soft romantic music started to play through the house.

Sophia had fully equipped the kitchen with every modern feature, all in stainless steel that contrasted with the black-and-white floor. “Here is where we eat.” She pointed to a spacious table for six, already set for two. “I tore the whole kitchen down to fully modernize it. Juliette was not interested in this part of the house.”

“It really is cozier than the dining room.” He looked at the table and teased, “I think you have an ego problem.”

She made a face at him. “Want something to drink before dinner or do you want to go straight to wine?” She opened one of the refrigerators and he saw that it was perfectly organized. She grabbed a small bottle of Evian for herself and wiggled her brows at him.

“I’ll have some water too. Still, please.”

She threw him a bottle of water and picked up a glass from the cupboard for him, drinking directly from her bottle.

He eyed her askance and then smiled, “Never thought I’d see you drinking from a bottle.” He did the same, handing her back the glass.

“There’s always a first time for everything.”

She toed off her peep toe shoes and stood barefoot on the Carrara and Emperor Dark marble floor, smiling. “I installed floor heating in the whole house. I love to walk barefoot.” She bent down and picked up her shoes.

“Hmm, you have elegant feet.”

“Elegant?” she sneered, “Are you serious?” She looked at her feet, wiggling her toes. “I’ll never tell you my shoe size,” she chuckled, walking out of the kitchen. Again, she grabbed his hand. “And now, the TV room and my office. If I want to work and Gabriela has friends, I can close the sliding doors. If it’s only the two of us, I keep the doors opened.”

The two generous-sized rooms were perfect for an office and TV room, separated by the sliding doors and further enhanced by wool carpeting. In the TV room, there were comfortable sofas begging for sitters and big square cushions on the floor. In the other room, twin Louis XVI tables faced each other, with comfortable armchairs behind them. On one sat a twenty-seven-inch iMac. The walls displayed contemporary art with a stunning photo-based Gerhard Richter that commanded the eye.

“Don’t you like English furniture?” he asked, amused.

“Oh, I do. But it’s very difficult to find originals. The only one I was able to buy was the Chippendale in the hall and, anyway” she shrugged, “I’ve always loved French furniture. Since my first visit to France, I fell in love with the castles.”

“You see, ego problem.” He chuckled.

“Oh, it’s not that. I was five years old when I visited Europe for the first time. The castles in France made a big impression on me. They’re completely restored and refurbished. It seems like people still live there. I’ve always had an insane desire to lie down on one of those beds, sit in one of those armchairs, and have tea in one of those rooms. I clearly remember the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles. It made me want to be a princess and waltz through it.” She pirouetted and waved her hand elegantly in the air as if dancing. “Long, beautiful dresses, glittering jewels and handsome men.”

He smiled at her pirouette and romantic air, “Those aren’t difficult to attain.”

“No, they’re not. But money can’t buy everything.” She sighed. “The romantic dream? It just vanished away, Alistair. I think I chose right to live in England. Prince Charles and Camilla?” she wiggled her brows at him.

He chuckled.

“But seriously, there is a lot to love about this country, of course, the English silver pieces and Chippendale’s furniture. Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.”

“Are you always this combative?”

“I’m a lawyer. Do you know any lawyers who won’t fight tooth and nail for their point of view?”

“There is also a small storage room and a laundry room on this floor. At the back of the house, is the famous garden you’ve already seen. I can show it to you another day.” Or tomorrow morning, if I’m lucky.

They turned back to climb the stairs, its runner carpet held with bronze stair rods.

“The first floor is for family only. A smaller TV room with a mini fridge full of snacks because I don’t like going downstairs at night if I’m hungry.” She pointed to a door in the far corner of the room. “A small toilet. No work or homework is allowed up here. No new friends either.” She bent down to pick up a book and carried it with her.

Hmm. What a butt! Alistair felt his hands itching for her and his blood stirred again.

“So, I’m not allowed here?” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Who says you’re a friend?” She smiled over her shoulder turning right, opening a door. “Gabriela’s room. She chose everything with Felipe and Valentina.” She put away the book on the white bookshelf along a wall.

The room completed in various shades of pink, orange, and white. Over the bed and on the ceiling, a multicolored garden with fairies was painted directly on the wall. A door opened into a dressing room and a bathroom with Carrara marble that adorned the floors and walls, contrasting elegantly with Italian rose marble.

“Gabriel?” He asked, picking up one of the frames on Gabriela’s bookshelf. The picture showed a blond, blue-eyed man. He had his arm on Sophia’s shoulder and cradled a tiny Gabriela in his other arm. The couple grinned.

“He was much older than you,” he said, looking at the photo. Got a thing for older man, Sophia? Gabriel, Ethan, me.

“Well, it depends on your point of view.” She grinned at him, “Do you think you are much older than me? If he were alive, he’d be four years your senior.”

Nice move, Counselor. “How did you meet a man fourteen years older than you when you were so young?”

“At the beginning of my second year at Law School. He was already a well-known economist and businessman. He was invited there to give a lecture.” She smiled widely, remembering. “I was sitting on a bench - studying for a test, head bent over a book - when I saw a pair of black shoes stop in front of me. When I looked up, I was staring into the most beautiful blue eyes I had seen in my whole life. He sat at my side and started a weird conversation. It was… hilarious. That important man, all dressed up in an expensive suit was ignoring everyone who came to talk to him, paying attention only to me. Later, he confessed it was love at first sight. Not for me, though.” She shook her head. “Would you believe he discovered my timetable and showed up at the campus every evening? He chased me for three months before I gave in to his charms and accepted his invitation to dinner.” She laughed again, “Six months after that we were married. I was seventeen.”

“A stalker,” he affirmed.

“I beg your pardon?”

He looked from the photo to her, “He was a stalker.”

“Well, maybe. Or you could say he was persistent. Like you,” she finished softly.

So naïve, Sophia… He thinned his lips and put the frame back on the shelf. “Gabriela looks exactly like him, but for the mouth and the chin.”

She nodded and murmured, “Yes, she does, especially the eyes and the satin blonde hair.”

He envied and hated Gabriel at that moment. He felt it unbearable thinking of another man having her unbound love. Even worse was the idea of someone else being capable of bringing her as much joy as he saw in the photograph. He wanted to be the one-the only one - to touch her body and her heart in that manner.

He pulled her to his body, bent his head, and kissed her. Her shoes fell silently on the carpeted floor as her arms wound around his waist. His hands wandered on her back, one cupping her nape and the other her butt, pressing her more firmly to his hips. His tongue invaded her mouth, dueling with hers. He bit her lush bottom lip and heard a carnal moan leave his own mouth.

He broke the kiss, panting, to look at her. Her eyes were closed, her lips redder and swollen by his kiss, parted, waiting for more. He didn’t resist the temptation and slanted his head to plunder her mouth. One of his hands wandered to her breast palming and gently kneading it, a thumb teasing the nipple. Christ, she’s a temptress. When she flexed her hips, he pulled her onto his straining erection, lost in the sensations.

This time, she broke the kiss, her breathing uneven. She tightened her arms around him and lowered her head to his chest. “Gabriela’s room,” she said hoarsely.

The hand on her breast went back to her nape, his thumb stroking her throat, feeling a vein pulsating there. They stood for a moment catching their breaths.

“Show me the rest of this floor.”

She bent, picked up her shoes, which tempted Alistair to swat her butt, however he held back his desire.

“There are two guest bedrooms, similar to Gabriela’s in size. Like this,” she opened a door to a generously sized room. A king-sized bed occupied the center and, in one corner, a desk with a chair. “And this one,” she said pointing to a closed door, “is still empty, but is the same size as Gabriela’s.”

“You haven’t finished it?”

She shook her head. “I’m waiting for someone to arrive,” she answered smiling.

“Who?”

“My next child,” her grin became wider.

Fuck. She wants another baby. “And you think your next husband would come to live here with you?” he asked seriously.

“Why not?”

“It’s rather strange to live at the expense of one’s wife, don’t you think?”

“Not at all. Don’t tell me you have such old-fashioned ideas.” She stopped in the middle of the TV room, thinking for a moment. “Look at it from my point of view. I’m probably wealthier than any husband I chose. Why not share? Why not give? I don’t have to pay for everything, but I can have and share the things I can afford. It’s not meant to humiliate or make him less proud of himself. Or to make me have the upper hand. What’s money for if I can’t enjoy it with the person I love?” She stared at his green eyes, “My bank account won’t smile at me.”

“Hmm. When you put it that way.” But you do want someone you can order around, don’t you, Sophia? You just don’t want to confess that to yourself.

“Upstairs,” she pointed, “with a separate entrance, there are complete apartments for Maria, Gabriela’s nanny; Lucy, the housekeeper; Aisha, the cook; Steven, my driver; Zareb and Devon, our bodyguards.”

“Christ.” He laughed, “You have the whole world inside your house.”

She smiled, “Yeah, and all religions too. Now, my room.” She crossed the TV room and entered the master suite.

A huge four-poster canopied bed dominated the main wall and the center of the room standing on a giant Persian rug that added to the sense of grandeur. On each side of the bed were French bedside tables. Renoir, Manet, and Degas graced the walls. Three floor-to-ceiling glass doors opened onto a balcony; the light green-and-blue curtains hid automatic shutters.

“Come here,” she motioned with her hand, toward the doors. On the balcony, there were a table for four, two lounge chairs, and a spacious Jacuzzi. She looked at him with a wicked smile, “It’s heated, so I can bathe outdoors in the winter. It’s delicious.”

“Naked?”

She looked at him, startled.

“Naked?” he repeated in his quiet voice, deep and hoarse.

She smiled naughtily, “Curious, aren’t we, Alistair Connor?”

She turned back to the room and pointed to a door. “There’s an empty dressing room and bathroom on this side. They’re exactly like mine.” She went through another door. “Here’s my bathroom. Felipe did wonders in here.”

Blue Acqua Marine marble echoed on the floors and walls defining the bathing area, contrasting with the Pink Gray Cloud marble vanity tops. A huge shower added a further touch of indulgence to the waterfall tap in the oversized, inset bath.

“I don’t believe you have a high-definition plasma TV in your bathroom.” He looked as if he wanted to laugh, “That’s weird.”

Sophia turned her hands up. “It wasn’t my idea, it was Felipe and Vic’s. At first, I thought it ridiculous, but it helps a lot when I have a busy day. I can catch up on the news while showering.”

At this he chuckled, “You don’t relax, even in the shower?”

“Try keeping up with my timetable at Leibowitz, Cambridge, with Gabriela, and still stay informed. And I don’t have a TV in my room. When I go to bed, I sleep with another one of my gadgets.”

“You sleep with a gadget?” he smiled, a glint in his eyes. “Tell me more about this device, Sophia.”

She laughed, playfully slapping his arm, “My Kindle.”

“Oh, aye. Your books.” He concealed his disappointment.

“Have you heard of Isaac Barrow?” When he shook his head she carried on, “He was an English mathematician and theologian, who died in 1677. He said, ‘He who loveth a book will never want a faithful friend, a wholesome counselor, a cheerful companion, or an effectual comforter.’ It’s so true. I am alone with a book, but never lonely.”

“Well, well, well.” He bowed low and turned, waving his hand, still a big smile on his lips, “First, Thomas à Kempis. Now, Isaac Barrow. My medieval lady, it’s time for me to say good-bye and leave you to your books.”

“Silly man,” she laughed. “Hey, come back here. You’re going the wrong way, that’s my-” she ran after him and heard his laughter again as he entered her dressing room.

“Do you have OCD?” he asked her with a broad grin.

“What?” She shed her jacket and hung it in its place.

He watched as she did it and laughed out loud again. “OCD. Obsessive compulsive disorder?”

“No, of course not,” she scowled at his laughing face. “Why do you ask?”

“Looks like you do. You rearranged the cushions to perfection in the reception room, shut every door, and turned off every light. You have a perfectly ordered refrigerator and returned the glass immediately to its place. You put Gabriela’s book away and hung your coat in its place. I bet you’re going to put your shoes,” he pointed to the shoes she was carrying, “back in their rightful place. And look at this dressing room! It looks like a shop.” He turned, laughing more, shaking his head. “And I thought I was organized. I can’t show you my dressing room,” he chuckled again, this time darker, imagining her in his dressing room. Oh, yes, Sophia. If I show you my special closet, what will your reaction be?

“Isn’t it easier to find things when they’re organized?” she asked. “I used to have eight employees working at my apartment back in Brazil. Now, I only have four-”

“Four?” he frowned. “You named at least seven people who live here.”

“Six. But the bodyguards don’t help with the house. They are strictly dedicated to protecting Gabriela and me. And there’s a maintenance company that comes twice a week to take care of the garden, clean the pool, and do all the hard stuff. This house is big and difficult to maintain. Coats go with coats, not with shirts. White shirts are followed by yellow and then orange and so forth. The same goes for the rest of the house. It’s not OCD. It’s just that it’s simpler to put things in their place.” Saying this, she put her shoes in their right place and finished her explanation, “I could find anything even in the dark if I needed to.”

“In the dark? You dress in the dark?” He chortled, hugging his stomach. “Some kind of perversion? Or are you absolutely nuts?”

He tried but could not contain a guffaw, imagining a scene, “Oh, Davidoff,” he squealed in a female voice, “I cannot meet the clients today.” He mimicked her, swinging his hips from side to side, dramatically. “You see,” he flicked an effeminate wave down his body, “I mismatched the colors of my clothes and my shoes. I dressed in the dark-” And doubled in a fit of laughter.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that!” She advanced in his direction.

He straightened, his hand up, trying to say peace, while laughing.

“Too late, Handsome.” As she stalked up to him, he backed out into the bedroom.

“Sophia,” he said, still chuckling. “Stop. I wasn’t laughing at you. But you are too good to be true.”

“He who laughs last, laughs best.” With one hand, she caught him by the cardigan and yanked his body to hers, while with the other she enlaced her fingers in his hair pulling his head down.

She stood on her toes and kissed him. He gasped at the attack. She seized the moment to explore his mouth with her tongue. One of his arms pressed her onto his body while his knee pried her legs open. The other hand rose to her breast, the silk no barrier to his touch.

“Sophia, I want you.”

His face showed his disbelief as she started to undo his scarf. His hand stopped hers. She looked up.

“You know what you are about to do, right?” His accent was so pronounced and his voice so husky that she had some trouble understanding him.

She arched on his body, gazing at his green eyes flaming with desire, “I want you, too,” she whispered.

“There is no turning back from here,” he warned, quietly.

“I know,” Sophia breathed.

Chapter 20

Sophia exuded an air full of passion. She pushed Alistair’s scarf to the sides and kissed his chest above the V-neck of his black T-shirt. She undid the buttons of his cardigan, one by one, and yanked his shirt up, licking the line of his pectoral until she found a nipple and sucked it hard.

Pleasure and astonishment flooded his veins as she kissed and licked his chest and his abs with abandonment. How long? How long since I’ve let a soft, gentle, normal woman take control? He remembered Tavish’s words. Don’t rush things with her. Try to become the younger Alistair again.

I’m enjoying this. He was so shocked at his reaction that he didn’t notice when the scarf fell to the floor. When her hand went to his zipper, he stopped her again.

“There’s no hurry,” he said quietly. Sophia was shaking. He didn’t know if she was nervous or aroused. “Trust me on this.”

“Make love to me, Alistair. Please.”

A wicked look gleamed in his emerald gaze as he shoved off his cardigan and his long-sleeved T-shirt. He cupped her face in his hands. “I like to hear you begging,” he whispered on her lips.

He bent his head ever so slowly and brushed his lips against hers, his tongue licking the contours of her mouth, leisurely.

His gentle kiss drove Sophia insane with longing. She pressed herself onto his chest, in an attempt to ease the hunger she felt. Her hands stroked his hair and pulled him down as she opened her mouth to suck and bite his bottom lip.

He took control of the kiss, his lips became more demanding, and his tongue dipped in her mouth, entwining with hers. His thumbs caressed the column of her neck and pressed down on her throat as his hands encircled it, narrowing his grip.

Sophia gasped at the unusual caress. The insinuated violence made her giddy with pleasure. What the hell? But the thought left as soon as his hands lowered, expanding over her shoulders, and down to the buttons of her blouse, pausing there.

Sophia pushed his head away and stared at his face. “Yes, please,” she breathed hoarsely, gliding her hands from his nape to his chest with a feathery touch. Desire throbbed between her thighs. She parted her lips to search for air as he undid only two buttons and opened her shirt over the shoulders, pinning her arms to her torso. Oh, my.

Her ivory lace bra did nothing to hide her breasts and pink nipples. His mouth watered. He dropped his head to her shoulder and kissed it, biting where it united with the neck.

Sophia hissed through clenched teeth, her hands clutching his ribcage.

He murmured with satisfaction, but she didn’t understand the words. And she didn’t care.

He moved down and sucked a nipple through the lacy bra, enjoying the dual feeling of the lace and the soft skin beneath it.

Sophia moaned and Alistair could almost hear her heart pounding. His fingers wandered over her body, as one of his legs pressed between hers.

A tingle of uncertainty flashed through her mind. I shouldn’t have started this. But another thought overrode the first. Why not?

Her belt fell to the rug with a soft thump.

“Sophia, you are so beautiful,” he murmured against her breast and bit and tugged. Hard.

Sophia gasped, her nails dug into his waist. Alistair’s gasped.

A zipper whispered and her skirt fell to the floor. His large hands encompassed her back, his fingers kneaded her butt gently, and his thumbs pressed her hipbone.

Sophia moaned loudly. He grinned and his lips moved to her other breast, his tongue leaving a wet trail. He licked the nipple and sucked it in his mouth, biting it, too.

Ah! His movements and caresses transfixed Sophia. He’s well practiced in this.

He lifted his head from her breast, slowly undoing the other buttons and letting the blouse float to the floor.

Alistair suddenly needed to look at her. He stepped back, without releasing her.

They stood mere feet apart-she in her underwear, he in his jeans-wordlessly, appraising each other.

He had the perfect build for his great height. Broad shoulders and chiseled chest tapered into a narrow waist. Only a thin trail of black hair descended from his navel to waist of his jeans, which encased his long and muscled legs.

And something more. She eyed the bulge under his fly. Oh, my. Something very big.

The sight of her dazzled him. Proudly, she held her head high and her shoulders back. Her black hair, falling almost to her waist, covered one pert, plump breast. She’s… breathtaking, ravishing… No words do her justice.

“You are” he breathed, “magnificent.”

Her slim waist widened into slightly round hips. Her lacy panties covered only a small and thin patch of dark hair; she was almost bare. Her legs were long and firm.

Oh, fuck. Brazilian wax. I want her. I need her. Now.

Sophia followed his rapt gaze and suddenly felt shy. No one has ever looked at me like this. No one. So much ardor, so much passion. She felt her whole body on fire, consuming all the air in her lungs.

He closed the gap between them, running his hands from her shoulders down her arms and up again, going to her breasts, cupping them through the ivory lace bra.

He picked her up in his arms and laid her down in the middle of the bedspread. “I have no words.” He shook his head, astonished at the intensity of his feelings.

She palmed her hands on his chest and smiled up at him.

He stretched on his side next to her. “Exactly how I pictured it,” he murmured. “Your glorious body against the sheets, your long hair spread on the pillows, framing your face and shoulders.” He shook his head. “It’s enough to drive a man insane, Sophia.”

Sophia was so astonished that she couldn’t make any sense of his words. “Please,” she moaned. Oh, please, stop talking and… take me. She almost giggled. Almost.

“Let me discover you.” His fingers touched her stomach, rounding her navel and her breath hitched. It glided up to her breast and to her shoulder, slowly lowering her bra strap, torturing her. His head bent down and he kissed the edge of her shoulder, his mouth traveling over her collarbone to the hollow of her throat, placing kisses along the way and down to the swell of her breast following the path of his warm hand.

He raised his head and looked at her eyes, the emerald-green meeting the yellow-diamond ones. He leaned, regarding her closely. He lapped at her nipple and sucked it hard into his mouth.

Sophia arched on the bed, moaning, her hands tangling in his hair. She felt his lips twisting into a smile and he took his time, swirling the nipple with his tongue, nipping it with his teeth and suckling her breast; while his now free hand went to the other shoulder and lowered the other strap with no rush.

“So soft,” he whispered as his elegant fingers cupped the other breast and massaged it. His thumb and index finger twisted the nipple between them. As Sophia moaned again, he chuckled and asked, “You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes, don’t stop,” she sat up and undid the bra throwing it faraway.

He laughed and pushed her back with a gentle touch on her shoulder. He bent down kissing her mouth. His fingers went down again, fluttering on her shoulder, passing by her scar and stopping to caress it. He returned to the shoulder and moved to the other breast. His mouth trailed behind his hand, kissing her ear, biting her lobe, and caressing her arm. Alistair kissed the scar reverently and cupping a breast, sucked it into his mouth, suckling it.

Oh, my. He’s going to kill me. “Alistair, please,” Sophia moaned loudly. She moved her hands from his hair to his shoulders, exploring his back. His strong shoulder and back muscles were hard, compared to the smooth texture of his skin, which made her want to lick him all over. Her hands moved down his back and found his trousers, “Jeans,” she panted. “Off.”

He jumped off the bed, took out his wallet from the back pocket and from it a condom, putting it on the bedside table. As he undid the button, he stared fixedly at her. His green eyes flashed hungrily. He unzipped his jeans, pushing them down, but keeping his underwear on. His black boxers tented from his straining erection.

Sophia stopped breathing.

“Boxers. Off.” Her voice hoarse.

He shook his head and returned to what he was doing. “There’s no hurry,” he whispered, “we have all night.”

Who said there’s no hurry? She was past any coherent thought.

He wanted to hear her scream with pleasure; to make her come so hard she wouldn’t know up from down. He shifted his weight, bracing himself on his elbows, his legs falling on either side on hers; he kissed his way to her navel, delineating it with his tongue before getting on his knees. She’s pure silk and velvet.

His hands paused on her hips and he splayed them on her belly. She’s about to become mine. With his thumbs hooked under the thin straps of her matching ivory lace panties, he slowly pulled them down. His fingers deliberately touched her thighs, calves, and then her feet. He watched her face intently with his green infernal eyes, hooded by long dark lashes.

He gripped an ankle and lifted her leg to his mouth.

Sophia inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. Ah!

Just the languid way he raised her leg was torture. “Open your eyes and look at me,” he ordered. When her eyes fluttered open, he licked her instep.

She moaned and fisted the sheets, arching on the bed. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

His tongue trailed her calf and the back of her knee; he put her foot on his shoulder and gripped the other ankle in his hand.

“Alistair,” Sophia hissed and closed her eyes again.

“Keep your eyes open,” His grip tightened on her ankle and his tongue flicked her left instep as his teeth bit down.

“Ah,” she gasped.

A lascivious grin appeared on his face and his tongue marked a path from her ankle to her inner knee, putting the foot on his other shoulder, and leaning down to the apex of her thighs, his hands easing her legs down his back.

Sophia’s mouth went dry. He looked like a pagan god, his black hair falling to his shoulders, a lock over his face, his eyes flashing with ardor. He drew his fingers unhurriedly up her legs, his gaze never straying from hers. One of his hands held her hip and the other spread her, his fingers touching her lightly. “So smooth,” he breathed.

Sophia bowed on the bed and almost sobbed from the slow torture, “Please.”

His fingers caressed her and found her wet with craving. A finger teased her entrance and she gasped in anticipation as he whispered, “Tell me, Sophia, who is pleasuring you?”

“You,” she gasped. “You, Alistair.”

His eyes flashed green and he pushed a long, broad finger deep inside her.

“Alistair!” His name split in a soft scream on her lips.

With a satisfied smile, he bent over her to suck her breast, his finger entering, retreating, and circling. Soon, another finger stretched her. Fuck. She’s tight.

She gripped his biceps so strongly her nails dug into his skin. He needed her out of her mind. Sweat filmed his forehead as he reined in his desire. Her hands flew to his boxers and began to remove them.

His hand grabbed hers. “Not yet,” he repeated. His erection strained against the material, the sensitive head rasping on the cotton, screaming to be free. He crushed her mouth with his, drinking and breathing her. He couldn’t get enough. He could feel her hands clutching his waist, urging him, but he resisted. He wanted this to last. “No hurry,” he said again and tried to hold on to the thin thread of control that kept him from plunging into her.

With all her strength and passion, she shoved him back to his knees and rose on hers to meet him. Her hands were running over his chest and abs.

Sophia, crazed with desire, clamped her mouth to his nipple, biting it lightly. He groaned approvingly, his hands pressing her head to his chest. She used the opportunity to pull down his boxers. Her hand circled his erection and she stilled.

Her head came up and she looked at him, eyes wide, astonished, her lips parted. “You’re,” she breathed, his eyes flashed, “huge.”

He framed her face, drawing her to him for another kiss. “Don’t worry, we’ll fit,” he said between kisses, “I have experience with this.”

The wicked hue in his voice filled the room, hypnotizing Sophia.

She bit his lip and when she released it he groaned, “Aye, again.”

She bit harder this time and he inhaled sharply. She lapped at the bite and pleaded, “I want you, Alistair, all of you. Take me.” Her hand stroked him tightly, making the remaining control he was trying to keep slip away.

Sophia lay down and opened her arms for him. Alistair took off his boxers and sheathed himself with the condom.

His magnificent body rested on top of her. Skin on skin, such a natural feeling, yet so sensual.

“I desire you,” he murmured against her lips, gathering her in his arms, “as I never have with any other woman.” His tongue plunged into her mouth, their lips clashing as he pinned her on the bed.

He kissed her until they were breathless, his legs prying hers open. They moaned in unison.

“Alistair, now, please,” she begged, arching her body and her nails raking his back.

Fuck! Her nails! Alistair supported himself on one elbow and gazed at her, his beautiful green eyes blazing with passion. His muscles rippled beneath his skin. “What do you want?”

“You, Alistair, I want you.”

He grinned at her and rocked his hips.

She threw her head back and gasped, “Yes, please.”

“You’re everything a man could dream of.” He kissed her, his tongue tracing her bottom lip. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her mouth.

“Alistair,” Sophia implored.

“I’ll make it last.” In his whispered promise, there was more than a simple wish to prolong the night’s sex.

She felt the broad tip of his shaft teasing her up and down, her lips parted. Her hips jerked from the bed, seeking him, “Please, now.”

When he felt her entrance, he almost lost control as a thrill of molten desire flashed through his spine and he strained not to plunge into her to the hilt. This is Sophia. She deserves better. Be gentle.

“Relax, Beauty,” his low, husky voice was edgy. “And enjoy.” He started to leisurely pressure his rigid length into her, at first, just the head to let her adjust to his size.

“More,” she moaned. Her body trembled and she realized her nervousness. He. Is. Huge.

He pressed in patiently, with shallow but deliberate thrusts into her tightness. He closed his eyes trying to concentrate, but she rocked into him and he pushed in more than he wanted.

She gasped long and loud in surprise at the sublime, almost painful sensation. Throwing her head back, she gripped the sheets, her eyes closed. He’s not huge. He’s enormous.

He stilled. “Sophia, talk to me,” he kissed her throat and jaw. “You okay?”

“Keep going,” she murmured. She wound her legs around his waist and her feet spurred him.

He gave a strained smile, “Easy, easy. You’re so tight.”

His hips started to rock at a steady pace, pushing him deeper until he fully settled inside of her and her muscles firmly clasped him.

I possess her. At last. He paused to enjoy the feeling and the vision of her face suffused with passion.

Sophia opened her yellow-diamond eyes, her long, raven lashes hooding the desire blazing in them. “Amazing,” she said hoarsely, releasing the sheets to comb his hair back; dragging him down to a scorching kiss.

She felt as his hips pulled back to thrust in. Unhurried, long, deep strokes taunted her, stoking the fire. She gasped and moaned.

His mouth moved sensually over her ear, throat, and shoulder, kissing, nibbling, and licking.

She started to move her hips in time with his, arching her body to rub her breasts on his chest.

He hooked one of her legs by the knee on his arm, opening her wider as his pace increased.

Sophia moaned with pleasure and responding to his softer grunts. She felt the tension build in her body, straining her, and grabbed his biceps hard, nails digging in.

Alistair pushed up on his elbows to look at her. Her head tilted back, her eyes almost closed, her cheeks rosy, and lips red and parted. She’s a goddess. My goddess.

“Mine,” the rasped word escaped from somewhere within his chest, “you are mine, Sophia.” He fisted her hair in his hand, yanking her head back to kiss and lick the column of her neck.

“Alistair Connor,” she whispered his name in a caress.

He could feel her tremors getting stronger and dived harder and faster in her, rotating his hips each time he plunged in, driving her out of her mind.

She opened her eyes and arched like a strained bow, seeking out release, almost incoherently, “Please… I need… I want…”

“Let go,” his hoarse voice encouraged, between kisses, fiercely rocking into her, “I’m here to catch you.”

She threw her head back, spasms clamping him into her body as he released. She screamed as the most intense orgasm of her life plunged her into ecstasy and darkness.

His shout joined hers, violent and long.

Alistair fell forward panting hard, crushing her flush to his body, as his own orgasm subsided.

He recovered and withdrew from her, rolling onto his back taking Sophia with him.

Sophia’s head fell on his chest, her eyes shut. The rise and fall of her chest being the only movement of her body.

“Sophia,” he whispered, his breath still ragged. “What you did to me.” He kissed her hair. “You okay?” As he didn’t get any answer, he raised his head. “Sophia?” Sitting on the bed, he pulled her into his embrace, frowning.

Sophia’s head lolled in his arm.

He shook her gently, “Sophia, wake up.”

Think, Alistair Connor, think.

She was barely breathing and her face was flushed.

Don’t freak out. “Fuck! Sophia!”

Her eyelids flickered, opening slightly. She murmured, “Don’t… panic.”

“What?” He didn’t understand.

She blinked and her eyes opened, completely in awe, burning him with their yellow-diamond color. “Mmm…” she licked her lips. “What was that?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He searched her face: her lips were red and swollen; her rosy face had a dreamy look. “You fainted. For what seemed like a lifetime. What are you feeling?”

“I didn’t faint,” she whispered and shut her eyes again.

“Sophia,” he shook her again, concerned, “I’m calling 999.”

“Don’t,” she grabbed his hand, “it’s normal. I’ve never… been… better.” She stared at him, dazzled. “It was… mind-blowing.”

“For Christ’s sake, Sophia, how is this normal? You’re scaring me.” He bent his head and kissed her forehead, hugging her closer. “Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“Yes, just hold me. You have such strong arms,” she ran her face against his chest, purring in contentment like a kitten, “so silky and so hard.” She smiled at him, lazily, “You know you look like a pagan god?”

Alistair chuckled, feeling calmer and repeated her praises, “A pagan god. A Highland warrior.” He shook his head. “I’ll become conceited.”

“You already are…” she whispered, “Lord I’m-so-handsome-and-powerful-and-I-know-it.”

“Lord I’m-so-hand-” He laughed and kissed her. “I’m not conceited.” He laid her down and spooned her. “I’m handsome. And powerful. It’s a fact.”

“Vanity is a sin, Alistair Connor,” she murmured, amazed.

They fit together perfectly, just as he imagined. His arm draped over her waist and his hand on her breast. The other arm cushioned her head. His chin fit exactly over her shoulder.

It seemed eons since he had cuddled after sex. He snuggled her into his body. Her heartbeats were returning to normal, her breath becoming even. “Tell me, you planned this?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“When?” He marveled at her soft, creamy skin, caressing it with the tip of his fingers.

“This afternoon. A few minutes before I called you.” She rolled over on her stomach to look at him and propped her chin on her hand.

She was a vision of paradise with her black hair falling down her back, her lips a deeper red from kissing, legs raised and crossed at the angles.

“That’s why you became so angry in the car-”

“No,” she cut in, shaking her head, “it wasn’t because I wanted to seduce you.” She raked a hand through her hair and tilted her head to the side. “It was because it looked like you didn’t care or need me to miss you, Alistair,” she said softly but with conviction, “which is quite different.” Her face had a pensive air, “Wasn’t I right?” Then she corrected, “Aren’t I? You’re still afraid of commitment? Any kind of commitment?” She gave him a little smile to soften the question. “Even after what I told you?”

“It’s not-” he stopped the lie at her pointed look. “No. I’m not afraid. That’s not the word. I’m fearful. I was badly hurt in my only serious relationship.”

“I understand.” She rolled onto her back, staring at the cerulean-green canopy of her bed. “When I became a widow, I wore my wedding band for a long time.”

“No, Sophia. I don’t think you understand. My case is quite different from yours.” He pushed on his elbow and turned to look at her grimly. “My marriage wasn’t a happy one.” His fingers appeared to have an itch only her body could soothe. “I stopped wearing my wedding ring long before Heather died. I swore on Nathalie’s grave I’d never make the same mistake again.”

She stared at him, astonished, “My God, Alistair.”

“You haven’t-” He sighed. “Nobody told you? Leonard? Or Alice?”

“No, I didn’t let them.”

“Why not?” he asked surprised.

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer. Why not?” he insisted.

She considered her answer carefully and looked at him directly in the eyes. “A story has many sides. If you ask my in-laws about what happened between Gabriel and I, they have a version. My brother another one, and so on. What version would matter to you? Theirs or mine?”

“I see.” He stared back at her, his eyes so dark the green was almost gone. So many emotions swirled in them: rage, fear, pain, shame. But not a drop of love. “So you expect me to tell you what happened.”

“No. I don’t have any expectations concerning your past.” She combed his hair tenderly with her fingers. “Tell me when and if you feel like it. Just don’t let your other experiences mar our relationship.”

She then mischievously smiled at him and, pushing up on all fours, crawled over him and straddled him at the waist. Her hands rested on her knees. She eyed him, her head cocked to the side and wetted her lips.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, his lips curling.

A cat-that-got-the-cream smile appeared on her lips. She crossed her arms in front of her body, her hands on her hips, and lifted them slowly, skimming her abdomen, up her torso, brushing her nipples, uncrossing them when she reached her shoulders to stroke her hair at her nape. She lifted her raven strands and let them fall in a cascade.

Fuck. His cock twisted and applauded the sensual show. Hmm, the fastest recovery of my life.

Eyes half-closed, she stretched her arms over her head, bent them, and gripped her elbows, undulating her body. She licked her lips and bit the lower one. So she also does this when she is turned on. He went mad with lust.

“Witch!” He grabbed her by the ribs and lowered her for a passionate kiss. He flexed his hips, grinding his erection against her buttocks. He felt as her lips curled in a small grin. His hands ran over her back and he fisted her long hair. He wound her hair around his wrist and softly yanked it back.

She bit his lip, sucked at it, and moved to kiss his jaw, searching for his earlobe. She nipped it and then rimmed his ear. He moaned.

“My turn,” she whispered in his ear. And ran her tongue on his neck and shoulder.

“My pleasure,” he replied, huskily.

She caged his face with both her hands and raised her face to give him a naughty smile. “Yes,” she breathed, “your pleasure.” And glided down his body, letting him feel her soft skin. She kissed his chest and then a nipple, playfully biting it. He groaned. She circled it with her tongue and did the same with the other.

“More. Bite,” he demanded.

“What?”

His fingers tangled in her hair and placed her mouth on his nipple, commanding, “Bite.”

She nipped it.

He groaned and demanded again, “Harder.”

Sophia bit him and he moaned out loud. She repeated it on the other. He grunted. Her hands caressed his ribs and chest as she lavished his abs with kisses.

“You have a wonderful body. A classical sculpture,” her voice was reverential. Her tongue circled his navel and dipped in, his breath hitched. She knelt between his thighs. Her hands continued trailing down him and she sat on her heels. He watched her as her eyes flamed. She twirled her hair and threw it over a shoulder. Then she licked her lips and rested her hands lightly on his hips.

He tensed and fisted his hands. Oh, yes, please. Without taking her eyes off him, she lowered her body. Her lips parted and hovered just a breath away from his strained erection. Her tongue darted and licked the head.

“Aye!” he shouted, “yes!” and pushed on his elbows to have a better view of the goddess tormenting him.

She moved closer on her knees and his legs widened to make room for her. She grinned and gripped the base of his cock.

This must be the sweetest torture on earth.

Sophia opened her lips and engulfed him deep. She took no prisoners.

He threw his head back with a roar, his neck stretched. He struggled not to thrust into her mouth. One of her hands tightly stroked the base of his cock and the other rolled his balls softly. She worked him leisurely, lost in the power of pleasing him. Her tongue circled and her mouth sucked, nonstop. He groaned, unable to do more. His eyes were glued on the seductress in front of him. She increased her tempo. Aphrodite.

She moaned and that undid him. Before he lost control in her mouth, he pulled her away, up on the bed beside him, and rolled over her body, kissing her. He stretched his arm and snatched his wallet from the bedside table, his fingers groping for a condom. His brow furrowed when he didn’t find one. He broke the kiss to better search and he couldn’t believe his eyes.

No more condoms. “Fuck!” The expletive shot out of his mouth before he could think.

“What is it?” She startled.

“Condom.” He looked at her. “Do you have one?”

She froze, staring at his eyes, “I’ve never bought-” She bit her lip.

He sensed her withdrawing and knew in that moment he would make her come, no matter what.

He dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed and gripped her thighs, pulling her down in his direction. He felt her tensing.

“Relax,” he demanded in a deep, low voice, putting her legs on his shoulders, “and enjoy it.” He kissed her inner thigh and felt her muscles contract. When his tongue traced a light path toward her clitoris, she pushed up to a seated position and fisted his hair.

His answering chuckle was filled with masculine satisfaction as he buried his mouth between her thighs with unrestrained enthusiasm. He looked at her, but did not stop. Her eyes became hooded, her lips parted, her breath hitched, and her face grew rosier. He grinned-eyes glued to hers-as she watched him lap her up.

She almost choked as a bolt of lightning shot through her entire body. She threw her head back, arching her breasts up in the air, panting. He fondled them, his thumbs pressing and pulling the nipples as she let out a strangled moan. He lowered her back onto the bed, his hand between her breasts, and latched his mouth greedily to her. He kissed and licked her as if his life depended on it. Her smooth, bare skin felt wondrous under his mouth and tongue. He’d never tasted such soft skin. His tongue entered her deep, feasting on her. She whispered his name and bowed her back.

Her shaking legs, her uneven breathing, and her increasingly loud moans were all music to him. His tongue left her depths and concentrated on her clitoris again, bringing his fingers to play, staring at her.

The moment the first finger sank into her, he heard a fractured soft scream. She called his name, begging for release, her head trashing on the bed. Her core hugged his finger so tight, he thought she was going to come.

“You’re going to kill me,” she cried.

“Relax.” He lapped softly at her, slowing the rhythm. He withdrew his finger and heard her relieved breath. With no mercy, he plunged two fingers into her, diving in and out, as he sucked her clitoris. She cried out, her hands shaking in his hair.

Alistair was about to explode, driven by the pleasure he was giving and by the power his caresses had over her. His shaft was so engorged it hurt; he moaned in her folds, half in pain, half in pleasure.

“Sophia,” he panted on her folds, “I’m going to come on your rug.”

“Who. Cares.” She panted and tugged him by the hair, “Just don’t stop.”

He gave a half pained laugh and latched his mouth on her again, ravenous, making pressure, suckling and licking, his fingers curling to touch her upper wall, and stroking his straining erection. She tensed under his mouth.

She rocked her hips to him, her fingers tangling and untangling on his hair, “Alistair, please.”

His mouth and fingers tormented her, unhurriedly. He moaned. He was also close.

“Oh. I’m…” This time she sobbed, “Alistair, I’m…”

He growled against her soft folds as he felt her passage spasm and contract around his fingers.

She gasped, “I’m close.” Her throat worked convulsively, and like a band, she snapped, crying his name loudly, her legs trembling around his shoulder and neck.

Sophia came, all sensation. Her pleasure was all consuming and burning.

Alistair felt a shock run through his whole body, shaking him with violence and he shouted her name, coming so hard his legs were trembling now. He rested his head on her inner thigh, recovering his breath. Man! This was good. A deep, satisfied feeling came over him. “Sophia?” He stroked her thigh. She didn’t answer and he raised his head. Her eyes were closed.

“Sophia, you okay?” He lowered her legs from his shoulders and sat with her in his arms, stupefied at her reaction.

She smiled lazily at him, through hooded eyes, “Yeah,” she whispered. “It was,” Alistair heard an amused tone in her throaty voice, “not bad, not bad at all.”

He chuckled and held her tightly while her breathing returned to normal.

Chapter 21

8.57 p.m.

She pushed up on her elbow to kiss him, before jumping off the bed. “Time for a shower. Care to join me?” she asked with a sassy smile.

Alistair watched with rapt attention as Sophia rose naked from the bed. With her long raven hair and gently swaying hips, she was temptation incarnate. It took everything he had to maintain his casual appearance when the dark and animalistic side of him longed to leap the distance between them and devour her senseless.

Will I ever get enough of her? He wanted her just as badly as if he hadn’t just come a short while ago. Twice. He couldn’t help but imagine how she would react if he were his usual self. Christ! The woman has the kind of energy I like. I have to buy more condoms!

“Are you coming?” she asked again.

He shook his head, “Too much of a temptation and no condom, no sex.”

“Oh. The goddamn condom…” Sophia, you shouldn’t. But the words were out of her mouth before her mind could finish admonishing herself. “I’m clean and on birth-”

“Sorry,” he shook his head, sternly. “Don’t take this personally, Sophia. It’s a rule I don’t break. If you mind the condoms so much, we can go see John Walter, together,” he stressed the word, “have new STD exams done, and check the validity of whatever you use as birth control.” Distrust and wariness showed on his face. “I am clean, but I don’t know about you.”

Her face fell and she looked at him openmouthed for a few moments.

An awkward silence filled the room.

“All right, then,” she whispered and turned toward the bathroom. Then a smile brightened her face and retracing her footsteps, her hand stretched out to pick up her iPhone. “See you in a few minutes. You can use the other bathroom. It’s ready for you,” she said, heading to her bathroom.

“You shower with a gadget, too?” he asked, amused.

“Why not? You don’t want to come.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder, looked back at him and wiggled her brows, waving her cell phone, “I’m going to find someone who wants to Skype and shower with me.” And giggling, sauntered to the bathroom.

“Skype and shower, oh, man!” He rose from the bed and started collecting his clothes. He paused at the foot of the bed and grimaced at the mess he had made on Sophia’s rug. I have to take care of this first.

He took a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around his waist. He knocked on Sophia’s bathroom door and heard her talking and chuckling inside. Surely she joked about sharing showers with others.

She exclaimed Edward’s name and gave a sexy, throaty laugh. Immediately, jealousy and betrayal raised their ugly heads in his mind.

Davidoff! He’s an interesting man. Perhaps, Sophia- No, surely not.

No. She isn’t Heather.

Heather’s dead!

This is Sophia.

Sophia!

He shook his head and knocked again. The door opened to reveal a smiling, trusting Sophia.

Naked, very naked. Alistair cursed his scruples.

“Yes? Changed your mind?”

“No.” He glanced around searching for her iPhone. “Are you busy?”

“Busy?” she asked confused, examining his scowl. “No, not yet.”

“I need something to clean your rug. You know.”

She seized him by the arm, yanking him inside with force. He stumbled into the bathroom. “I don’t need a house cleaner. We can do that later. Don’t be chicken,” she laughed, “Get in the shower with me.”

Fuck. “Sophia,” he cleared his throat, “don’t tempt me.”

“Too late.” She turned the lock and took out the key, waving it away from him. “Oh, come on, it’s just water. Are you afraid of water?”

“I’m unable to resist.” He captured her in his arms and spoke on her lips, “It’s not the water that frightens me, Beauty. It’s the siren in it.”

“Um, a poet. I like it.” She gave him a peck on the lips, “All right.” She opened the door, sighing. “Enjoy your shower, alone,” she pivoted on herself, grinning wolfishly, “because next time I won’t allow it.”

9.27 p.m.

Sophia came out of the dressing room wearing a green-and-blue wrap dress, no shoes, and her hair piled up in a bun secured with a Japanese hair stick.

Alistair had already showered and was wearing his gray jeans.

She found him on his knees, a brush in his hand, cleaning her rug. His black hair, still damp from the shower, fell around his face and the muscles on his arms and back rose with his movements.

She coughed and had to turn not to laugh at the scene.

“What’s so funny?” He asked from the floor, stopping to stare at her.

“You.” She said with her back turned. “I never thought I would have a pagan god cleaning my rug.” She spun to watch him with an endearing look on her face, kneeling by him. “You don’t have to do this. By the way, where did you find the brush?”

“Of course I have to do this. I made the mess-”

“We made the mess together,” she interrupted him, with a kiss, “we clean it together, got it?” She took the brush from his hand and entered his bathroom. She left the brush on the double sink, washing her hands as he washed his.

“Come. I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since lunch.” She waited for him to put his cardigan and loafers on. “You didn’t answer me; where did you find the brush?”

“I have superpowers,” he said, winking at her.

“I can believe that,” she grinned at him, enchanted. “Let’s see if your powers can help me with dinner.”

They walked hand in hand to the kitchen.

“So, what can I do?” Alistair asked, looking around.

“Do you remember where the cellar is?” she looked up from the refrigerator.

“Aye,” he nodded.

“You can choose a bottle of red wine for us.”

“Which one do you want?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” she thought while taking a box of Italian pasta from the cupboard, “do you prefer Italian or French?”

He laughed, “Both.”

“Great. Choose a French one for us, please. They’re on the left-hand side.”

A few minutes later, Alistair returned without the wine, a weird look on his face.

“You didn’t find anything you liked?” Sophia looked up from the board where she was cutting fresh artichoke hearts.

He shook his head, “No, that’s not it. I couldn’t. I think it’s better if you chose the wine.”

“All right,” Sophia finished the artichokes and wiped her hands on a towel. “Don’t touch anything.” She thought for a moment and stretched her hand, “Better, come with me. We’re going to choose the wine together.”

He backed away, “No, I would rather wait here.”

Sophia stared at him, “Alistair Connor.”

He smiled at the way she spoke his name, scolding him.

“What’s the matter? I want you to come with me,” she stated her will firmly and motioned with her hand. “Please,” the last word just a sweetened sauce to the command.

He sighed, took her hand in his, and walked beside her. Looking down at her cleavage and the way the dress hugged her curves, he murmured, “Beautiful dress.”

Naïvely, she answered, “Oh, I love Diane de Furstenberg’s dresses. They’re so elegant and comfortable.”

He chuckled, saying mockingly, “From my point of view, you can always wear them.”

She looked up, trying to discern why he said that, when she realized he had a predatory grin on his face.

Sophia stopped and turned to look at him, smiling, “You pervert.”

Pervert? I haven’t even started. He ran his hands from her collarbones to her hips and back again, ending on her breasts, “This dress complements your body.” He gripped her waist dragging her into his arms, “or should I say that your body complements the dress?” He kissed her. “You confound me.”

She laughed, squirming from his embrace, “I’m hungry, and I’m dying for a glass of wine.” Lifting the hem of her dress, she ran in the direction of the cellar.

He smiled and followed her, entering the dim cellar, nearly bumping into her. She frowned looking at a bottle in her hands.

He glanced down at it. “You don’t want to open that.”

“Why not?” She looked up from the 1982 Château Mouton-Rothschild to search his face.

“It’s unnecessary to open such an expensive-”

“Do you know the price of this bottle?” As he nodded, she put it back with the others and moved to another section, pulling out a 1934 Romanée Conti and peered at him with raised brows.

He shook his head, his emotions swinging from astonishment to aggravation, a twinge of uneasiness in the background.

She slipped it back and seized another bottle.

He frowned, “Sophia, please. Don’t be a child.”

“You don’t like the 1978 Montrachet Domaine de la Romanée Conti?” She put it back and moved again dragging out a 1945 Château Mouton-Rothschild this time, “How about this one?” She flung the bottle in the air, carelessly, catching it with one hand.

“Sophia, stop.”

“No?” She turned and glowered at him, her honey eyes blazing. Her trembling hand held the expensive bottle. “I don’t understand what’s happening here. I asked you to choose a bottle for us from the ones I have. You came back empty-handed. I select one and you say I cannot open it because it’s too expensive? Too expensive?” Breathless, she said, “I can’t open a bottle that costs ten thousand pounds for you to drink? Or a fifty thousand one?” She swallowed and narrowed her eyes. “Why? Would you rather I crashed it on the floor?”

“Christ, Sophia.” His anger flared, “Control yourself.”

“Yes, my lord. I apologize, sire.” She bowed, seriously. “But you drank from my body, didn’t you? Is this” she motioned to the bottle, “more valuable?” Her hand holding the bottle lifted an inch higher. “I don’t think so.”

“Stop!” He ordered nearly shouting, his voice reverberated on the rocky walls. He understood her rage. “Stop,” he lowered his voice to an even and commanding tone. “I didn’t mean to insult you,” he breathed deep and continued in a low, silky voice. He stepped forward slowly, as if she were a scared and hurt little animal that any sudden movement would frighten, “Nothing compares to your taste, Sophia. Not even one of your most expensive wines.” He moved in front of her and lifted his hands slowly. He caressed her face with his knuckles, “Choose. I will drink with pleasure whatever you desire.”

She leaned on his body, her forehead resting on his chest. “Sorry, I overreacted.”

“You do have a temper, don’t you?” He laughed when she punched him in the arm, after putting the 1945 Mouton-Rothschild in its place.

“Try me.” She reached for the bottle she had chosen first, leaving the cellar.

Back in the kitchen, she put the bottle on the island. She put an opener and a crystal-and-silver decanter next to the bottle. “Here, help me or I won’t feed you.”

“Are you threatening me?” He snatched her to him and his arms circled her in a tight hug. He spoke so near her lips, she could feel him breathing. “Feed me or I will not pleasure you again. Your decision.” His beautiful green eyes held an inscrutable expression.

“That’s your problem,” she dismissed his warning, not at all afraid of the big man looming over her. “You lose on both counts.” She kissed him, “You’ll starve,” kissing him again, “for food,” another kiss, “and for me.”

He eased his stance and embraced her as she playfully kissed him, dismissing her ultimatum. “Witch.” Giving her butt a loud and heavy swat. She yelped. Aye, Beauty. First lesson. He grinned at her and turned to open the bottle. “Why do you have so many expensive bottles of wine in your cellar?”

“Because.”

“Sophia.”

“Oh, yes, I remember. That’s not an answer,” she restated his words and searched in her cupboard for the pot she needed. She filled it with water and put it on the stove. “I love wine, those are considered the best. I bought them.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Isn’t that enough?”

He poured just a bit of wine for each of them and let the rest breathe in the decanter. “Indeed. A good answer. I missed the foot stomping on the floor.” His lips curled up slightly and he handed the crystal glass to her. “A toast,” he prompted, “to you, the most beautiful and intelligent woman I’ve ever met.”

“To you, an intriguing man, and to us,” she replied and drank the wine. To us, an uncertainty.

“To us, may we together create a new path in life.” He hardened just imagining the things he would teach her.

“To… A new beginning,” she smiled at him. Then she remembered, “The foot stomping?”

“Yes. Just like children do.”

She looked at him, bewildered. “What?”

“You know, children stomp their feet when-” He laughed, lowering, as she hurled the dishcloth at him. Hmm. And now, Alistair Connor?

The doorbell rang, saving her from his counterattack.

“Are you expecting someone?” he frowned.

“Yes. I’ll be right back.” Sophia went to the back door. “Don’t move.”

Fuck. I’ve never been ordered around before. He rolled his broad and muscular shoulders and his neck. Relax, Alistair Connor. She’s worth it. He could hear her moving around the back of the house and speaking with someone.

“Who was it?” he asked when Sophia returned to the kitchen with a mischievous grin and a white plastic bag in her hand.

She didn’t answer and demanded, “Close your eyes.”

“Who was it, Sophia?”

“Never mind. Close your eyes. Please,” she asked again, approaching him with a sexy and mischievous expression on her face.

“I don’t know if I should,” he teased, but closed his eyes. He heard the sound of plastic rustling and felt as her long soft fingers held up his hand and, turning it over, put a small box on his palm.

“Open your eyes,” Sophia softly said, still holding his hand. On it was a pack of condoms.

“How…” He shook his head, bewildered.

“I have my ways. Come on, let’s eat before this pasta becomes mushy.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the table.

She added the chopped items, put the pasta in, and stirred again. After a few minutes, she picked up a bowl and put everything inside.

Sophia went to the table with the steaming bowl, served the pasta for them, and sat in front of him. “There’s some Grana Padano Riserva, if you want.”

He put some of the cheese on his pasta and handed her the bowl. She looked anxiously at him while he tried the pasta.

“Mmm,” he closed his eyes, savoring it. “This is very good.”

“So, you approve of me as a cook?”

He flashed a grin at her, “You’re approved, period.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “Where did you learn how to cook?”

“When I studied in Lausanne. I told you, remember? A Cordon Bleu teacher taught one of the extra classes. He called it Cordon Bleu pour les jeunes. Can you imagine a bunch of teenage girls in a kitchen?” She smiled, “It was one of the best classes. He had a funny way of teaching and kept us all interested in the difficult art of Cordon Bleu. But pasta is very easy. One day I’ll cook something more elaborate for you.”

“But surely, you don’t cook usually. Your nails give you away.”

“No, I don’t cook every day. But after that year in Lausanne, I improved my skills at home. When I got married I made it a habit to cook at least once a week for Gabriel,” the last word she barely whispered.

He interlaced his finger in hers. “Did you know you could make a fortune with the wines you have? There are specialized investment funds that trade on wine.”

“What would I do with more money?” She sighed in disbelief. “Money is also for spending, Alistair. I work a lot. I can afford some extravagances.”

“Do you like being in Gabriel’s shoes?” He perused her face, seriously. “As far as I know, you relinquished your career as a successful lawyer to run his company.”

“I don’t run his company. I just give the last opinion on matters that are more important. And, well, life didn’t leave me much choice. It was never a question of what I wanted to do, but what I had to do. I did what was right. But, you know,” she drank her wine and tilted her head to side, in thought. “I never thought I’d have what it takes to fully understand and manage such an enormous and complicated organization. It seems that I do. At the beginning, the employees didn’t have much faith in me, but gradually I showed them I could do it. I have to thank Edward for all I’ve achieved in the last year. More than a business partner, he has been a great friend and companion.”

“Edward. Davidoff?” As she nodded, he frowned and enquired, “He was Gabriel’s partner?”

“No. But Gabriel trusted him. He started as a trainee and rose by his own merit to the position of CEO. I gave him five percent when I inherited Leibowitz and he has been a great help to me.”

He gapped at her.

“What?”

“You gave away five percent of Leibowitz Oil?” He couldn’t believe his ears. “Beauty, if you had given any other man five percent of Leibowitz Oil, he would have laid on the floor for you to step on with your stilettos.”

“Maybe you’re right, but I didn’t need a doormat. I needed a trustworthy friend and a great CEO to support me. And before you say that I’ve done a senseless and stupid thing, hear my reasons.” She raised a hand and started to count, “First, he worked for Gabriel for more than seventeen years. Second, Gabriel trusted him. Third, I already knew him and his work, and I liked what I knew. Fourth, I was utterly alone in a strange country and needed someone by my side. And last, most importantly, my instincts said he was the man who would help me through it.” She drank more wine and handed him her empty glass for more.

Gabriel, Ashford, Davidoff. How many men are a part of your life, Sophia? “Instincts? You do business based on instincts?”

“No.”

“Thank Chr-”

“I do everything in life based on my instincts. It is the first thing that guides me. If my instincts say no, I say no. It doesn’t matter how many reasons there are for me to say yes. It drove Gabriel crazy,” she laughed. “Edward, at first, didn’t trust my opinions, either.”

“And now?”

“He’s learned that, although strange, it works well.”

“No kidding,” he frowned.

“For example, the contract I signed with your bank. I didn’t trust Wales. Turned out I was right.” She shrugged. “Haven’t you ever had a feeling you shouldn’t do something? Or that a person is worth trusting, contrary to all proof?”

“No, not really.” He finished his pasta. “Is that how you used to decide on your pro bono work?”

“Want more?”

He shook his head. She took their plates, rinsed them, and stashed them in the dishwasher. “I only accepted cases when I believed in what the person was telling me. Either guilty or innocent. And that is the way all the lawyers at my foundation are directed to do as well. Of course, if the evidence is too strong against the person, I couldn’t do magic.” She covered the bowl of pasta with plastic film and put it in the refrigerator. “Contrary to Leonard’s beliefs, I’m not a witch.”

He smiled at this. “I think you have a book of spells and a caldron hidden somewhere. What does your instinct say about me? Innocent or guilty?”

“It says I should trust you,” she answered sincerely. “Dessert? There’s a banana cake that I usually heat up, or ice cream. Or chocolate? Pierre Marcolini. The same I gave your father the weekend of Tavish’s birthday.”

“Chocolate.” He scowled at her, “Innocent or guilty?”

“Bring the wine, will you?” She didn’t answer and exited the kitchen with the pack of condoms in her hand. “Come. Or I get to choose the film,” she shouted from the stairs.

He didn’t move from his chair.

What had started as a joke unexpectedly turned into something serious.

Why isn’t she answering? He wanted, no, needed to know her opinion. He ran after her, the decanter in his hand.

“Sophia.”

“Please, choose the film.” She didn’t look up from where she hunched near the small fridge. “I have champagne truffles, marzipan, or dark chocolate-seventy percent-for grown-ups,” she pointed to a beautiful big black box by her feet with the number sixteen stamped on it, and her lips curled up, teasing, “or milk for the kids. Or,” she grabbed a different box, “macaroons. Which do you prefer?”

“Dark and macaroons.” He put the decanter and his glass next to hers. She’s beating around the bush. He approached the window, looking outside, but not seeing the park. “But I’d rather you answered my question, Sophia.

“I have answered.”

“No. You. Have. Not.” His voice was icy thin. “Innocent or guilty?”

Chapter 22

10.55 p.m.

Sophia stiffened and rose from the floor with the boxes in her hand.

Alistair turned from the window, a stern look on his face. She didn’t face him, but she could see his unhappiness.

She took her time putting the boxes on the square ottoman and picked up her glass, refilling it. He watched as she breathed deep, her ribcage expanding.

She drank a steady gulp. “Whom shall I judge?”

He tipped his head to the side, “Me. Me, myself, and I.”

“Me, myself, and I,” she repeated, in a whisper, straightening to her full height.

Sophia turned and watched his face intently before asking in an austere voice, her forehead creased. She gazed at him in the way she sometimes did, as though she thought she could read him. “How do you plead?” Gone was the playful Sophia.

Fuck. Nobody can read me. Or can she? “You’re the lawyer.” And then he scorned, “The one with the instincts.”

“I have to hear the client first. I cannot judge before a fair hearing. State your plea and your crime, please.”

How does she change her mood so fast? “Too many sins and most of the seven capital vices,” he answered quickly without doubt.

“Too general,” she riposted in a calm way, but promptly. “Pray continue.”

I shouldn’t have started this. “Debauchery, perversion, anger, hate, selfishness, murder, indifference, and detachment. And, of the seven vices: lust, wrath, pride, and envy.” He tried to shock her. “In that order, since December 1999.”

She just raised an eyebrow in disdain. “Innocent or guilty?” I know exactly what you’re looking for, Alistair Connor. But I’m not game for condemning someone without a cause. I know quite well the rules of this game. Life has taught me well.

“Of my own sins? Guilty. Of course,” he scoffed.

“Who pressed charges?”

He stood there looking at her cold and analytic face. She’s still evading. Oh, come on, Conselor Leibowitz, stop this. Condemn me, once and for all.

“I’m waiting.” She tapped her foot on the rug, aggravated. “Who pressed charges?”

“Me, myself, and I.”

“Me, myself, and I,” she mused, frowning, evaluating his eyes, face and body language searching for something more. How can you press changes against yourself, Alistair Connor? Because of your own sins? She turned her back to him and pinched the bridge of her nose. He’s lying. There’s more to this. What is he hiding? His guilt isn’t caused by something he did. He’s probably guilty by omission. But she wouldn’t deny him the right of lying, even to himself. Nodding, she inquired further. “Any evidence? Proof?”

A fight. A destroyed car. Blood everywhere. Two dead bodies. “Photos,” he answered brusquely.

“No documents? Testimonies? Fingerprints?”

“Nothing conclusive.” He stood still as a statue and watched her pace the room.

“Photos can be forged, manipulated,” she mused. “And the jury sees what the lawyer wants them to see.”

“Sorry, no escape. The photos weren’t forged.” His deep voice sounded angry and sad at the same time. “Guilty as charged.”

A piece is missing from this puzzle. She finished the wine, placing the glass on the other side table and paced some more. “Just photos.” she voiced her thoughts.

Then she whirled around - suddenly, violently - and her dress swirled around her, the Japanese hair stick dropped to the ground and her hair tumbled down.

She left her hair down and concentrated on her actions. “Who or what was in the photos?” A dark look came over her features.

“The scene of the crime. Blood. Dead bodies.”

Dead bodies. She paled but recovered quickly. Two can play this game, Lord Me-myself-and-I. A very sinister smile started to form on her mouth, twisting her lips.

Fuck! The Avenging Angel. The same look she had at Galewick Hall. He could almost see her growing taller, sprouting wings, and yielding a fiery sword, ready to pierce his black heart guilty of Nathalie’s death.

“Please, think hard before you answer this question. Was my client there? Or had he been there at any moment?”

Was I there? “No. I don’t think so.”

“Ha! You don’t think so! So, you’re not sure!”

His head dropped a bit, his eyes glazed. The memories of his little blonde angel all battered and bruised flooded his brain. “No, but-”

She raised her hand, stopping him, demanding silence. “This was not a question. It was a conclusion.” His head came up abruptly. “The prosecution has no proof that the defendant was, or had been, at the scene of the crime.” Indeed. It’s something he didn’t do. Guilt by omission. The dark smile broadened and her eyes flashed a golden honey color as she counted her conclusions on her fingers, “Firstly, Me-myself-and-I is the one pressing charges. Secondly, Me-myself-and-I is the defendant, who had never been at the scene of the crime. Thirdly, there is no evidence, other than the photos of the crime scene. So I ask you my last question: Is there any proof that my client has ever committed these sins? These unproven sins?”

His eyes widened. She’s destroyed my case. And she’s enjoying every minute of it.

“No answer?” She pressed.

Are my sins unprovable? It seems so. He shook his head, stupefied, and incapable of answering. Her verdict pending over his head as the sword of Damocles. Are they pardonable? No. Never.

She stabbed a finger hard on his chest, like a dagger. “Therefore, this lawyer is pleading innocent in the name of Me-myself-and-I,” she glared at him, pinning him under her angry stare, “or rather in your name, Alistair Connor.”

How dare she? How dare she absolve me? The fear that her absolution could destroy the detachment he had achieved so far, erupted in him a need to destroy the woman who had so trustily absolved him. Alistair’s arms encompassed her waist swiftly, hauling her body flush with his. His hand fisted and twirled her hair tightly as his mouth crushed hers.

The unpredicted and violent assault startled Sophia. Her hands gripped his arms to steady herself as his tongue pursued and forcefully demanded an entrance. She allowed it and moaned when he invaded her mouth. He slanted her head with a rough tug on her hair to have better access to her mouth.

Sophia stiffened and gasped at the sharp pain and her hand flew up. Her slender fingers wrapped around his wrist and surprised Alistair, causing him to loosen his hold on her hair. Immediately she relaxed into his embrace.

Breathe. Control yourself. She’s not Heather, Alistair Connor. He lifted his head to look at her. Her head was pulled back in his grip and her lips were dark red from his kisses. “You don’t like?” he murmured.

“What?” She opened her yellow diamond eyes.

His head bent to the hollow of her neck and he bit her playfully there. “A touch of pain, of violence.” Here it goes. Slowly, Alistair Connor, slowly.

Pain, violence? “I-I don’t know,” she stammered. “I’ve never thought about them as sensual or erotic.” What the hell? Why am I not answering no?

“It can be,” he whispered, his voice tickling her ear. He suckled her earlobe, sinking his teeth in the soft flesh.

She moaned and his hand on the small of her back pressed her on his body as he ground his erection on her belly.

“See?” His husky voice and accent betrayed his arousal. “Do you want to try?”

“You like that?” Her hands pulled his head up to look at his forest-green eyes. They burned her with pure carnal lust and his grip on her hair tightened. “Pain, violence?” she gasped. “What kind?”

“I’ll be gentle. I promise.” His own words penetrated the fog of rage that had installed in his mind. “Let me show you what I can do to your body,” he murmured, “to your soul.”

Oh. She could not answer. Dared not. What now? She felt paralyzed by fear and dread. And arousal. How?

“Come on, it’s just role-play,” he coached, quietly. “And you can always stop it.”

“I-” she breathed deep. I don’t know.

“Please,” he crooned and vowed, “I won’t hurt you. It’s all about pleasure.” His lips curled. And he bent his head, his nose brushed hers in a gentle caress and he spoke against her lips. “Do you trust me?”

“This is not fair,” she said slowly.

“Not fair?” His face fell and disappointment flashed. “No, I guess it isn’t.” His hands dropped away from her and he stepped back as if he had been slapped. Of course, it isn’t. You want to hurt the only woman that has absolved you so unhesitatingly. But then, you don’t want absolution, do you? Do you, Alistair Connor?

Sophia observed his face, as an uncommon kaleidoscope of emotions played on it.

He stepped back again.

“Wait!” Her hand shot out to grab his arm, holding him in place. “Wait.” She stared intently into his eyes. “I told you that I trust you. And I do,” she whispered the last few words.

“Are you sure?” He cocked his head

“Yes,” she breathed, “yes, I am.”

He could barely hear her low assent.

“Sophia,” he murmured and closed the distance between them, burying his head in her hair and inhaling deeply. His fingers untied the sash at her waist and nudged the dress off her shoulders, dropping a light kiss on one, then the other. The dress pooled on the floor at her feet.

He lost his voice as he saw her wearing the most sensual black-and-silver lingerie he had ever seen. Thin silky ribbons held her bra in place. Her breasts strained against the lace and the same thin material tied the panties on the sides. The satin hid exactly what he wanted, and the lace showing everything else. Hot! His fingers itched to untie the ribbons. No, I wish to rip them to shreds. Breathe, Alistair, breathe. This is Sophia.

He lifted her to his chest and she wrapped her legs around his waist, his hard erection probing her through his jeans.

She gasped in his ear, “Alistair.”

“I’m right here,” he whispered back and carried her past her bedroom into her dressing room. He deposited her softly on her feet and shed his cardigan, throwing it on the armchair in the corner.

“Do you have rope?” His demeanor suddenly turned serious, muscles bunched, and his eyes flashed.

Sophia jumped back. “No.”

“Scarves?” His eyes were burning with lust and something more she couldn’t identify.

“Sca-scarves, yes,” she stammered. She spun on her heels and went to a corner of the room, gesturing to a shelf. “Here. Silk scarves.”

“I want three.”

She gave him the first one and he coiled it around his hands, snapping it, testing its softness and strength. “Two more,” he crooned.

She eyed him askance, almost regretting her acceptance. Nonetheless, she picked up two more scarves and handed them to him.

He took her hand without a word. In her bedroom, he put the scarves on the bed and turned to look at her, studying her intently. “Can I put on some music from my phone?”

She picked up his cell phone from the bedside table, and connected it to the Wi-Fi network. She handed it to him and he typed in the name of a song, smiling when he found it. “Pay attention to the piano, the song’s rhythm, the voices, and the lyrics.” He touched the screen and put it on the bedside table next to the pack of condoms. “Forget everything else.”

The beautiful piano notes of “The Lightning Strike” by Snow Patrol flooded the room. He backed her on the wall, cupped the back of her head, and kissed her hard, as he never had before.

A need to brand her as his whipped through him. He closed his eyes and imagined her bound by ropes or cuffs. He became so hard he hurt. Fuck. She doesn’t know the first thing about this game. Take it slow, Alistair. Their lips clashed and he bit her lip hard. She moaned. Yes, Sophia, that’s it. He backed away from her and started to divest himself of his jeans, boxers, and loafers. He advanced on her naked, sporting the biggest erection of his whole life.

She gasped and her hands faltered on the fastenings of her bra.

He inhaled deeply, controlling the urge to snap the ties of her bra and delicately unfastened the silk strings that held it in place. He looked hungrily at her breasts, palming them. He led her to the bed. He laid her down, in the middle of the bed, reclining on the bedpost to study her, taking his time before sitting on the bed and leaning to kiss her neck and shoulders, his hands roaming over her body, driving her crazy with need. “Let me guide you through this.”

Oh, my! What is he planning to do?

He picked up the first scarf and paused to gaze into her eyes. “Close your eyes.”

Sophia stared at Alistair with a twinge of fear. His whole bearing had changed. She wouldn’t dare speak a word. When his fingers gently touched her face, she almost screamed.

“Don’t be afraid,” he licked her throat with the tip of his tongue. “Can I blindfold you?”

She only nodded. Her already big eyes appeared huge on her face. Her hands started to tremble and she fisted them.

Delicately, he folded the white scarf, “Shut your eyes,” he ordered again, softly, and covered her closed eyes with the scarf tying it on the right side of her head.

Sophia heaved a deep sigh as the darkness enfolded her and she fumbled for his biceps. He held her hands in his and guided them to rest in the bed angled upwards to the bedposts. “I’m going to tie your wrists with the scarves,” he knotted the first scarf around her right wrist and tested the fastening, then did the same to the other wrist.

Sophia’s mouth dried out in anticipation and her breathing shortened.

In the darkness, everything became overwhelming: the feel of the cotton against her back, the silk around her wrists, the fluttering brush of his fingers on her arms and shoulders, the shift of the bed, the music, the lyrics.

“Now, the scarves to the bedposts,” he tied them to the bedposts and pulled her, arms stretched to the point where she couldn’t move.

Oh, hell… Oh, hell!

“Sophia,” his deep and low voice vibrated in his chest like a rumble, almost a primitive sound, that made goose bumps appear across her skin. “You with me?”

“Yes,” she rasped.

“Free your mind.” The mattress dipped between her legs as he settled himself there and she exhaled. “Don’t rationalize.”

She felt his chest and abs as he hovered over her. The touch of his silky skin and hard muscles was all she could feel.

His thumb brushed her mouth and she opened her lips. He pressed it inside and she suckled on it. He breathed in sharply and his other hand fluttered against her throat and down her shoulder, finding a breast.

She moaned, “Oh, please.”

She never thought how arousing being tied and blindfolded could be. She controlled herself, her teeth sunk in her full lip to stop her screaming at every move he made.

“Scream if you want to,” he rasped, reading her struggle, “let me hear your pleasure.” He held her head in his large hand and bent to suckle a breast, tonguing the nipple slowly with gentle strokes, teasing, tormenting.

The unknown brought on by the darkness and the impotence of being at another’s mercy were arousing and scary. Sophia was sinking, desperate for a lifeline.

“You feel like heaven.” His control rapidly slipped away. “I can’t get enough,” and he closed his teeth around her nipple.

She arched on his mouth and gasped low and long, thrashing her head on the hand holding it. He tightened his hold on her head as he suckled and tongued and bit her nipple.

He travelled to the other breast and applied the same sweet torture. His hands went down to her panties and, untying the ribbons, he felt for her slit, his middle finger entering her, “Sophia, you’re soaking wet,” he revered. And dived in again, his thumb brushing her clitoris.

She cried, grabbing the scarves for support.

“Beg, scream. I want to hear you,” he grunted in approval.

She shivered. “One more. Another finger. Please.”

As he fit a second finger in her tight passage, her muscles crushed them deep inside her. He rotated his hand.

“Alistair,” she screamed his name.

He teased her again with his hand and a fluttery touch of his thumb.

“Kiss me.”

“You’re in no position to give orders here.”

“Please,” she heaved, “please.”

“Are you begging?”

“Yes,” she all but shouted.

He laughed low in his throat and kissed her, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth. His demanding, beseeching kisses and slow fingering took her higher and higher.

“I want you. Now!” she cried as she ground on his fingers.

He stopped his caresses and she moaned, in protest.

“Eager and commanding, aren’t you?” He tsked twice. “Wrong move, Beauty.” He moved back to the edge of the bed and lifted her legs on the crook of his arms, his hands supporting her buttocks in the air, opening her to his mouth.

He groaned when his tongue brushed over her clitoris and she screamed.

“You taste like honey,” he dipped his tongue deep inside her and swirled it. “No,” he whispered and tasted her again, “like ambrosia. I’m going to get addicted.”

Sophia’s fingers fisted around the silk and she begged, “Please, please, I’m begging.”

She heard as he tore the condom foil and moaned, “Yes, please.”

He chuckled deep and low and sheathed himself. He knelt down on the bed by her side; his hand ran over the length of her torso. She squirmed under his caresses, panting.

“So soft, so beautiful, so perfect,” his voice was decadent and his hand descended hard on the side of her thigh. She screamed and he hit the other. He moved his hand to cup her face and bent to kiss her stormily. Without warming, he slapped her clitoris hard again and again and again as she gasped and cried low. He rolled onto her, all the while observing her expression, supporting himself on one forearm. “Wind your legs around my waist and lock your ankles, but don’t move.”

Sophia had never been so confused in her whole life. How is pain so arousing? Why does he like this? All rational thought had fled her mind.

“Sophia.” The bed dipped between her legs as he shifted to hit her again on both of her thighs. “Will you do as asked or will I have to spank you?”

“No. No,” she panted, “it’s enough. It’s enough.” Her thighs were stinging. He was too strong. She raised her legs and wound them around his waist.

He leaned on her and started to move, grinding the head of his erection up and down, from her slit to her clitoris and back. Sophia’s breath hitched and she licked and bit her lip.

“You drive me crazy when you do that,” he murmured and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.

She started to squirm under him and her hands wriggled in the scarves.

“Ah-ah! Don’t move.” He increased the pressure of his erection on her slit, but didn’t enter and glided up again as he untied the scarf from her eyes.

She blinked at the light and stared at him. Flaming forest-green eyes filled with lust locked onto huge yellow-diamond ones, desire and fear mingled in them.

It unsettled him. He had never seen fear before. Pain, yes; not fear.

And the dark lust that shimmered inside his eyes unsettled her. Her breath became erratic and she closed her eyes.

“Open your eyes. I want you to see who is pleasuring you.”

She gasped and her eyes flew open. When he repeated the pressure, she rocked onto him, seeking fulfillment.

He halted.

“Don’t. Move,” he ordered.

“Impossible.” She panted, “You are torturing me.”

“Trust me?”

She nodded.

He smiled darkly. “You shouldn’t,” he murmured before ordering, “don’t move. Stay still.”

She nodded again, her lips parted, breath ragged.

He started all over again. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

“Open. Your. Eyes.” The sound of his hand hitting her thigh sounded in the room.

She opened her eyes again and there were tears in them. “Please, no more. I’ll do as you ask.” How can this be? Pleasure and pain? Where is this going?

With every slight thrust of his erection, her head pressed down on the pillows and her ribs expanded forcefully. A pained moan escaped her lips and she fought for control over the deep need to close her eyes.

“Feel it, Beauty. Feel the pleasure building, expanding, taking control.” And he rocked his hips up and down, again and again, exerting a bit more pressure on her slit, but evading penetration. “Oh, Sophia,” he breathed, “feel how wet you are. All for me.”

Her fingers flexed open and retracted with so much force around the scarves, her arms straining against the ties, that the muscles in her arms were showing. Her legs started to quiver and she fastened them with force around his body. Shock speared her and she called out, “Alistair.” Her eyes grew wide, alarmed at the intensity of the pleasure. Desire flooded her. “Please, let go my arms.”

His lips curled, “This is it, Beauty.” And without warning, he slammed into her in one single thrust. “So. Tight,” he bit out as Sophia screamed, pleasure and pain mirrored in her voice. Never in her life had she felt so complete, so full.

He released her wrists and grabbed her nape, taking her mouth in a greedy kiss, holding her with both arms, flush to his body, almost crushing her.

Sophia’s nails grazed his scalp and her fingers entwined in his silky locks, tugging. “Again.”

“Again what?” he stopped once more.

“Please, do it again,” she begged.

He grunted in masculine approval and pounded in her again. “Want it rough, Sophia?” He breathed in her ear, licking and biting her earlobe and her neck. “Answer me. Do you want it rough?”

“Yes!” She felt disoriented from so much unfulfilled desire. And she raked her long nails from his head down his back, embedding them in his taut buttocks. “Move!” She rocked her hips.

“No orders!” He stopped.

“Please, let me come!” Oh. My. “I’m begging. Please,” she whispered.

“Who do you want, Sophia?”

“You, Alistair, you. Please, make me come.”

“I’ll make you come.” He growled with pleasure and stepped up to an intense and fast pace. “Move with me.”

Sophia let out a low cry, almost a lament. She soared, higher and higher.

With each hard stroke, pleasure and sweet pain blended. She burned, flames licking her whole body. She started to tremble on the brink of a shattering orgasm.

“Oh, please,” she was too high and afraid of the fall. Her gaze searched his, tormented. “Too much.”

He shifted his arms and transferred one from her nape to her butt, lifting her. “Now, Sophia,” he yanked her hair in his fist, “Come for me. Let me feel your pleasure.” Alistair buried his face in her neck, scattering kisses and small bites on it. Inhaling her scent. White roses. Fresh oranges. At his next hard stroke, he fused their lower bodies and, rotating his hips, teased her clitoris with his movements, pushing Sophia from the cliff.

She threw her head back. Her nails were digging into him for support and then she let go, brokenly crying his name. He followed her after another violent shove, her inner muscles clutching him in violent spams that quaked their whole bodies. He stilled above her, felt perfection in himself and let go, wishing he could feel all of her.

He fell on top of her. His arms brought her to his chest and he rolled over, still inside her. His world was spinning, but he lay there thoroughly sated.

Exhausted.

And sad.

Why, Alistair Connor? Why do you drag everyone to your darkness?

Eyes closed, he waited for some measure of normalcy. He suddenly realized that Heather’s hated face hadn’t haunted him this time. It’s because I’m with Sophia. Heather is dead. Gone. Forever.

The silence in the room was broken only by the sounds of their harsh breathing.

Alistair arranged them on the pillows and pulled up the sheet to cover them. Regaining his breath, he watched Sophia as she came back to life again, still shaking from the intense experience.

“I don’t deserve you,” his voice cracked.

“Trust me,” she retorted, hoarsely, “you do.”

After a few moments, she pushed at his chest with her fingertips, making him lie back on the bed. She crawled over him, running her long smooth leg over his coarse ones, putting her head and a hand on his chest. She settled for sleep.

He gently tugged at her hair to look at her eyes, but she didn’t move. He could see the line of her profile and her long lashes shadowing her cheeks. “How are you feeling?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” she stuttered, “scared, satiated, hurt, pleasured. I don’t know.”

“Did you like it?” he asked, an uncertainty leaking in his voice. “Would you do it again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, it was… disturbing. It was… wonderful,” she murmured, almost afraid of voicing her mixed and confused sentiments.

“You’re wonderful,” he crooned, “best ever.” He kissed her hair, amazed by all his feelings for her. Why does she feel so good? He shook his head at the intruding thought. “Speaking of scared, do you always frighten your bed partners like this? I thought you’d had a heart attack the first time.”

She relaxed and gave a lazy throaty laugh, “C’était la petite mort.”

“The French again,” he snorted. “I always thought it was totally inappropriate the way they call such a special thing the small death. At least, it should be called la spéciale morte.”

“Whatever.” She chuckled, “You did kill me. With pleasure.”

“And this death of yours? Does it happen with every partner?” His voice took a hard edge of jealousy that she didn’t notice. And as he felt her grin, he relaxed.

“Gabriel almost took me to the hospital the first time it happened. I only managed to convince him everything was all right when he had me wrapped in a bed sheet and was carrying me through the hotel corridor, wide-eyed, barefoot, and clad only in his jeans. Afterwards, he got used to it,” she laughed more. “But he made me see a doctor when we got back from our honeymoon.”

“And you’re going to see another.”

“There is no need.”

“And I’m going with you.”

“Come now, Alis-”

“Sophia,” he warned, sternly. “And we can ask for the STD exams and the other stuff.”

“All right, all right. Just let me know your schedule, I’ll make an appointment with John.”

“Monday, if it’s okay for you. I’ll call him first thing in the morning. I’m sure he will fit us in. And,” he hesitated. “Does it happen every time?” He had to know. “With the others?”

“You want to know about other men?” she asked bewildered. He nodded. “Why?”

“I need to know,” he cupped her face in his hands, “I need to know every single thing, every small detail. I don’t like being in the dark.”

“But I’ve told you.” She shook her head, still astonished, “I don’t… Why I-”

“Sophia,” he warned in a hiss. Suspicion insinuated in his mind. How many men?

She raised her brows and chuckled, completely unaware of his dark thoughts, “Curious, aren’t you? God, what is the problem with British men? So nosy.”

“Nosy? Nosy? What happened to you twice-no, three times-tonight isn’t something one sees every day. You were barely breathing and you fainted the first time. I’ve never seen a woman react like that before. It’s weird, to say the least.”

“And you are an expert?” How many women, Alistair Connor?

“I could say so,” he raised his eyebrows at her. “Nevertheless, we’re not talking about my bed partners, but yours.”

“Did you know that curiosity killed the cat?” She raised her head, controlling her features but with a twinkle of amazement coloring her clear eyes. “Well,” she tilted her head and blinked twice, “I’ve always had problems with boyfriends because of this,” she waved her hand in the air, “reaction. The first three were so scared they never wanted to see me again. After Gabriel, the other twelve,” she paused, laughing so hard at his stunned look that tears appeared in the corner of her eyes. “Alistair, I’ve only had three partners. Gabriel. Ethan. You.”

Only two before me. He almost exhaled aloud, relieved. “Did you frighten Ashford too?” Jealousy glinted in his piercing green eyes.

“I don’t kiss and tell. What happened sexually between Ethan and I concerns the two of us, not you.” She turned suddenly serious. “Ethan, he’s intelligent, smart, and handsome, but he was a mistake.” She sighed. “I had been too much alone since Gabriel.”

He tenderly brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

She closed her eyes for a moment enjoying the caress. “I met Ethan at Heathrow Airport last year, in October and he gave me a much-needed ride. He was very insistent and I was too lonely. You know the drill,” she shrugged. “In January, I decided I had to let go. But as you already know, the relationship didn’t last. He had-”

“Two years,” he breathed, flabbergasted, “you were alone for almost two whole years. Why?”

“I,” she sighed, “I don’t know. Because I loved Gabriel too much? Because I was a mess? Because I was scared and sick - outside and inside? Because I was afraid? Because I had to begin everything anew? Take your pick.” Again, she waved her hand in the air. “As things are, I mistook a good friend for a… boyfriend.” Lover, don’t you forget, Sophia.

She shooed away the memories and kissed Alistair’s chest, a grin lightening her features. “Don’t worry, this, ah, weirdness, as you put it, doesn’t happen with the same intensity every time. It depends on my mood and,” she giggled, “a job well done.”

“So, I passed inspection,” he smug smiled told her he had no doubt about his performance.

“With honors, Alistair. With honors.” She put her head back on his chest, yawning, “Let’s sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.” She caressed his chest and abs with her nails until she drifted off to sleep.

He lay there, awake for a long time, mystified. He combed through her hair with his fingers and questioned why everything felt so right when she was around.

That night, as they slept clasped in each other’s arms, neither Alistair nor Sophia had any nightmares.

Chapter 23

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

Saturday, March 13th, 2010.

9 a.m.

Ethan sat in the living room armchair as another gorgeous woman entered. He tilted his head to the side and ordered, boredom showing in his voice, “Disrobe.”

Unashamedly, the dark-haired woman took off her clothes and ambled through the room. She stopped in front of him and pivoted.

He looked her over and shook his head, “No, thanks. You can pick up your payment on the way out.”

Without a word, the woman redressed and left the room.

Ethan glowered at his personal assistant as the thin man entered the room, with a bright smile on his face, clutching a black leather case in front of his chest. “Goddammit, Scott. It’s been weeks and not one even comes close.”

Scott stopped and his smiled broadened even more. “Sir, I found her.” He opened the door and a young woman walked in.

Ethan sucked in his breath and rose from the armchair. Jesus! People might mistake them for twins. He motioned for the woman to stop in the middle of his living room as he strolled to her and then around her. He gripped her chin in his hand and raised her face to look into her eyes. He frowned. Yellow contact lenses. “Disrobe and undo your hair.”

She undid her bun and her long black tresses fell over her shoulders until the small of her back. Her hands lifted to unfasten the belt of her dress. But before she did, she looked at Ethan with eyes hooded by long lashes and, in a movement of uncertainty, bit her full bottom lip.

Ethan felt his body stir. “Stop!” he ordered before she started to undress. He invaded her personal space and shoved his fingers in her hair. “Your hair. Is it natural?”

“No, sir. Its natural color is light brown. But I dyed it bla-black,” the woman stammered.

He grimaced a bit and ran his fingers over her smooth face. Hmm. No makeup. “Any children?”

“No, sir,” Scott informed from behind him. “And sir, if I may?”

“Shoot.”

Scott neared the couple and spoke in a low voice to the woman, “Show him the scar.”

Ethan stepped away, giving the woman some room. Her belt clunked on the marble floor and her dress opened in a graceful movement. The woman shrugged and it fell over the belt.

Ethan couldn’t believe his eyes. On her right arm, the woman had a scar similar to Sophia’s. He surveyed her body. “Turn around. Slowly.”

She did as commanded. When she did the full turn, Ethan approached again and looked deep into her eyes. “You know the terms of the contract?”

“Yes,” the woman whispered and nodded slightly.

“You will do. Scott will show you the guest room. You’ll need for nothing, if you please me. Take a shower, pick out one of the outfits in the closet, and go up. I’ll wait for you in my room. Your name from now on is Sophia.”

Atwood House.

10.03 a.m.

Sophia awoke feeling that something was different. Then a big, warm body shifted behind her. An arm snaked around her waist pulling her toward a hard chest.

She turned her head and smiled, “Good morning.”

“‘Morning,” he grinned at her. “Sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm,” she stretched out like a dancer, her arms entwining above her head and her body undulating. She flexed the soles of her feet on his.

“You look like Sleeping Beauty, totally perfect and ravishing in your sleep,” he combed her hair with his fingers. “Your hair doesn’t even get tangled.”

“Hmm, Sleeping Beauty is blonde.” As were all your lovers before me.

He laughed, “Well, then. Snow White.”

“Only in my sleep?” she teased.

“No,” his finger traced a line from her waist to her hip, “always.”

“You haven’t seen me with the flu,” she laughed.

He chuckled, “I bet you are stunning even when you have the flu.”

“Too many compliments to start the day, Alistair Connor,” she turned her head, smiling at him, “you surely want something.”

He pressed his rigid length into her butt, “Oh, I do want something, but I can have it without praising you.”

“Hmm, sure of yourself, aren’t you?

He raised an eyebrow at her, a smug smile on his face.

“You are so vain, Lord I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it.”

He laughed, “I’ve told you, I’m not vain.” And kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re really, really ravishing when you sleep and when you’re awake. It’s not just your looks. It’s you, Sophia. You,” he whispered the last word on her lips, “and you are mine.”

He made love to her slowly, tenderly, words of worship whispered in her ears as he revered her body.

Afterward, they lay there spent and enjoying each other’s company, before going downstairs for breakfast.

Sophia watched Alistair as he helped her put away the dishes. He talked about his childhood and holidays as an adult with his family. Clearly, he had a happy family and he missed his deceased mother a lot. Heather’s name never came up.

“I have to go home to pick up some clothes. I can’t wear my jeans the whole weekend.”

“Well, you don’t need your jeans. You can just stay naked. It’ll save time,” she grinned wolfishly at him.

“Minx,” he laughed and swatted her butt. Hard.

She squealed, jumped, and turned to look at him, a wary expression on her face, “Alistair… We haven’t talked about last night.”

“What about last night?” His features acquired his characteristic poker-faced mask as he leaned on the counter, nonchalantly.

“The pain and violence thing.”

“What about it?” he crossed his arms on his chest, the muscles bulging.

“It- Will you always want that?”

“No. Not always.”

“Not always,” she mused, sitting on a chair by the table. “But frequently?”

“It depends on you,” he tilted his head to the side and studied her guarded and cautious look. “You said you liked it.”

“Not exactly. I said it was disturbing. Disturbing and wonderful,” she sighed. “What if this storm of passion ends? What if you see me as I am? And if this pain thing overwhelms me?” she made a remark interweaving the lyrics of the Snow Patrol song he had chosen. “Passion is a sickness. It confounds and makes you do things just to please the other person. Quite different from love. In love, you find delight despite the person’s flaws.”

“I want to see you as you are, every day that I live,” he remarked, almost quoting the song and narrowing his eyes at her.

She just looked at him, not answering.

“I see you paid attention to the song,” he frowned.

“Paid attention to the song?” No, I did not. How could I? “Not really, but I love it. It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s a bit dark and blue.”

“Why did you choose it then?”

“I like the piano and the beat. And the lyrics are-”

“Beautiful. It’s about a relationship. Besides,” she sighed and her lips curled a bit, more a grimace than a smile. “I’m despondency and darkness personified.”

“You don’t know what darkness is, Sophia,” he sat down on the chair next to hers, gripping her chin in his left hand. “You’re like the fresh air from an orchard in spring,” he shook his head, his long bangs falling over his right eye, “I am darkness.”

“I don’t believe in your biased and poor opinion of yourself,” Sophia’s hand raised to brush away the hair from his eye. “Seems we have a lot to learn about each other.”

“So it seems.” He tilted his head, “Did I hurt you? Yesterday?”

She looked down at her fingers and bit her lip.

“Sophia?” He rubbed his jaw with two fingers quietly studying her, his face inscrutable again.

“I-” She looked up at his face. “It did hurt. It’s so confusing.”

“But are you hurting? Now?”

She frowned and answered indirectly, “I’ll probably have marks by tomorrow,” she whispered, “I bruise easily.”

“If you don’t like it, we can try other things.” Marks… Fingerprints. My fingerprints. I shouldn’t have hurt her. At all. “What have you planned for us?” he changed the subject abruptly.

She let it go. “I didn’t plan anything,” she answered. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“I can think of a few things I’d like to do,” he said with a positively decadent grin.

She smiled at him and taunted, “Promises, promises.” And her grin faded and she looked down at her fingers.

“What’s nagging you?” His fingers curled under her chin, raising her face to his intense green gaze.

She stared at him for a long time, musing. “Why did you want me to condemn you last night?” She bit her lip, chewing it.

He tsked and his thumb pulled her lip from her teeth, “Because I have a black heart. Or no heart at all,” he sighed. “I’m guilty, Sophia.”

“No heart?” she whispered and shook her head. “And what are you so guilty of?”

“Of everything I told you.”

“Well, I can’t understand if you don’t want to explain. It seems to me that you need to feel guilt. You were very angry when I absolved you.” She narrowed her eyes studying him.

“I was. Very angry,” he confirmed, quietly. “I won’t lie to you. I’m guilty of those sins. It wasn’t right to accept absolution.”

She rose from the chair, thoughtfully, and strolled to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, “Do you want one?” He shook his head. She uncapped the lid and drank, her brow creased, her eyes never leaving his face. So controlled, Alistair. So detached. Such a bad liar. “Don’t you want to tell me about it?”

“No.”

All right. All right. “It’s your right to remain silent,” she shrugged. “But, you didn’t need to corner me like that. I had already answered your question,” she inhaled deeply, “in my own way. Such labels as innocent or guilty are,” she waved her hand elegantly in the air, “just labels. They don’t really matter to me. I’ve seen criminals acquitted and innocent people condemned. We all have a bit of evil inside us. We’re not perfect.” Her eyes darkened and she lowered her eyelids, hissing, “Some less than others.”

He tilted his head trying to understand the cryptic remark. What do you mean by that, Sophia? “No, we are not perfect. But we’re responsible for our acts.”

She fisted her hand and a strange expression masked her beautiful face. She straightened up to her full height and crossed her arms over her chest. A dark smile spread on her lips and she whispered to him, “Only if we get caught.”

What the fuck? He raised his brows, astonished at another cryptic remark and her weird stance.

She drank the rest of her water and turned her back to him, shaking her head as if scolding herself. She threw the bottle with rage into the rubbish bin in the far corner of the kitchen and stared in that direction.

Alistair strolled to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and digging his fingers into her skin, massaging her tense muscles. She relaxed onto his chest, whispering, “Mmm, I like that.”

He bent his head and kissed her hair, murmuring, “I like you.”

“Promise me something?” she breathed.

“What, Beauty?”

She turned in his arms, placed her palms on his chest, and fixed him with her hazel, troubled gaze. “Never again mistrust me. Don’t turn your anger unfairly toward me. Trust isn’t something I bestow easily. It’s something precious. You have it or you don’t. Like faith, like love. It’s blind. It has to be. If I trust, if I love, I’ll always believe you, no matter the circumstances.” Her eyes were open windows to a scared and hurt soul. Alistair drowned in them as they showed him all her feelings. “Don’t doubt my word. It’s the most valuable thing I could ever give you.”

4.30 p.m.

Leaning on the doorjamb of the kitchen, Sophia stared at Alistair. She had seen him wearing formal and informal clothes. And no clothes at all. Now, though, resting on the kitchen counter eating leftovers from their lunch, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, he had never been sexier. Totally eatable.

His hair was still wet from the shower and small rivulets of water ran down his neck, bare chest, and back.

“Hungry?” He asked as he saw her.

Pushing from the threshold, Sophia sauntered in his direction. “No,” she smiled and shook her head at the plate of food he held. She picked up a glass from the cupboard and poured herself a glass of the fresh passion fruit juice she had made for them at breakfast. “Seems you are. But then I can’t think of many people that eat as much as you do.”

“I have to keep strong. You consume all my calories.” He stabbed a steamed broccoli and waved it at her. “Besides, this cooking of yours, it’s too light. Too many vegetables. That is why you’re so thin.”

She laughed. “No, it’s not true. I eat everything. I just prefer to eat healthy food at home.” She knew how good her food was and she could tell how much he liked it. She had prepared a green salad with buffalo mozzarella, grilled salmon with honey mustard sauce, and steamed vegetables.

Sophia motioned to the juice, “Do you want some?”

“Not now, thanks.”

She took a seat at the table and gazed out the window at her beautiful garden outside.

“Sophia?”

Pulled from her thoughts by the soft sound of her name, she looked up and saw he watched her intently.

“Yes?”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” she nodded absentmindedly. “I was just wondering,” she drank the juice, her gaze unfocused. I was wondering if this is true. If it’s not another bad joke God is playing on me. She had meditated on these questions more and more since she’d starting going out with him.

He sat beside her and curled his fingers under her chin, making her face him, “What? What were you wondering?”

Needing reassurance, she voiced her thoughts, “Is this true? Is it real?”

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her right ear, “Yes, it is. It’s for real. As long as we want it to be.”

She tilted her head, a thoughtful frown creasing her forehead.

His finger smoothed out the lines on her brow, “Don’t you worry. I want this to work. And it seems to me that you do, too. Now,” a slow smile spread over his face, “I want to collect a promise.”

“What promise?” her brows lowered.

“Your promise to take me for a ride in your McLaren. I wish to see if you are really as good a driver as you claim you are. We can dine at The Waterside Inn in Berkshire. It’s,” he made quotes in the air, “a restaurant with rooms, as they like to call it. A very common concept in France. We can spend the night there. The accommodations are spectacular. It’s about an hour’s drive. What do you think?”

“I’m game,” she smiled.

“Great. Do you want to spend the night there?”

“Why not? We can take some wine,” she ogled him, “and, please,” she stressed the word, “you can choose from my cellar as if you were choosing from yours.”

He put his hands up, “I will, don’t worry. I don’t want to incur your wrath. Again.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

She harrumphed and fisted his chest, playfully, “I’m going to pack, and then we can swing by your place to pick up your things.”

5.48 p.m.

“Sophia, slow down!” Alistair grabbed the door handle when she exited a sharp curve at eighty miles per hour.

Her laugh rang in the car, “Scared?” she asked without taking her eyes from the road and pressed down on the accelerator. In a second, the needle jumped to a hundred and sixty-five miles per hour.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed as the potent motor roared and they were pressed against the plush leather seats.

“Chicken!” Just before she entered another curve, she slowed down a bit, nevertheless turning at a hundred and ten miles per hour.

“You asked for it,” she said and glanced at Alistair, rigid on the seat and his face drawn taut, “I told you I was a good driver,” she smirked at him and let the car slow down to enjoy the drive.

“Are you trying to kill us both?” his voice dry.

She chuckled, “No, of course not. I’ve always driven well and last year I took a special defensive driving course offered by a former policeman in São Paulo.”

“And you call this defensive?” He started to relax on the seat, “I would say it’s aggressive driving.”

“Handsome,” she smiled amazed at his behavior, “it’s defensive driving against kidnapping or such. It’s all about speed, being in control of minute movements and having complete knowledge of what the car can do.”

“Indeed,” he exhaled loudly, still mad at her. “You do drive quite well.” I have to concede.

“Thanks. I’m used to this beauty,” she caressed the steering wheel and checked the route on her GPS. “We’ll get there in about fifteen minutes, I guess.”

“Sophia, this car is more of a beast than a beauty,” he snorted, “like your horses.”

“Well, then. They’re beautiful, gorgeous beasts,” she smirked at him. “I do love powerful things,” she glanced at him with a malicious gleam in her eyes and measured him with her eyes. “They make interesting toys.”

He fell into an astonished silence. How dare she? “Toys,” he repeated slowly, experiencing the word on his tongue, “toys.” Sophia, I’m not a man to trifle with. Her explicit bantering and debasement of him surprised and aroused him. Leaning over, an evil look on his face, he whispered in her ear, “One day, I’m going to introduce you to some of my toys.”

She smiled naïvely at him, totally unaware of his dark thoughts, “I think I’d like that.”

“Don’t be so certain, Sophia,” he murmured.

Why? She looked at him, a wary look coming over her face. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer and changed the subject, “I want you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Promise me.”

“No,” she answered firmly. Enough with the unknown promises, Sophia. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Please, state your case,” the small joke didn’t lessen her refusal.

“Promise me that you won’t go driving again, like a lunatic, without warning me.”

“No.”

“NO?” Alistair saw red. “Did you just say ‘no’?

“I just said no,” she confirmed and repeated, “no.”

He raked his left hand through his long hair, “Sophia, you don’t want to defy me.”

“Oh? I don’t?” she blinked. “But it’s not a question of defying you. No, not at all. It’s more a question of you ordering me around. I don’t respond well to being ordered or bullied. I’ve told you so.”

“Then we will have to work on that,” he spoke through clenched teeth.

“No, I don’t think so,” she pumped the accelerator, the needle jumping again. “I hate being ordered around. Try to ask gently, for a change. I might, let me repeat, I might think about your request,” she stressed the last word. “Got it?”

Where did I find this insane woman? Why have I involved myself with her? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. How am I going to deal with her strong will?

“Got. It?” Sophia asked again, peering at his expression.

“Aye,” he clipped his answer, his accent strong, “I. Got. It.”

He stared at the sinking sun, struck by the violent searing colors across the sky. The dark blue sky slashed with fierce reds and oranges, mirroring his own crazed feelings.

In the last few years, Alistair had been all about control. If she destroyed his control, she would destroy him. She stirred his emotions to a startling degree. A treacherous height. Since Heather, no woman had ever made me… need. Face it, Alistair Connor. She makes you want more than a quick fuck. That’s why you have been putting up with all her whims.

Sophia drove in silence for a few minutes, pondering his entreaty, stealing a quick glance at him; his hands were clenched in fists, resting on his thighs. He brooded, looking straight ahead, his eyes half-closed and fine lines creased the sides of his eyes.

“Alistair,” she glanced again at his rugged profile illuminated by the beautiful sunset.

“Aye?” He turned his head slowly to study her face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“So, you are promising me not to do it?”

“No, I’m not. This is something I very much like to do and I don’t like having to explain what I do or don’t do,” she answered. “In fact, I’d say it’s vital to have some freedom. And as you saw, I drive quite well.”

“I’ll worry,” his voice had lost its dry tone and anxiety had taken its place.

“Hmm,” she mused, “I understand. Nonetheless, risk is a part of life.”

“A part of it I don’t like,” he sighed. “I’ve had enough of losing control. And I’ve seen where taking risks like these lead,” he shifted on the seat to better look at her and his right hand squeezed her left thigh. “Death.”

“Don’t worry,” she smiled, endeared by his concern, “I don’t intend to die soon.”

His lips twisted, “That’s very reassuring.” This woman will drive me insane.

Sophia parked the car at the main entrance of the charming hotel and the valet lifted the McLaren door. Sofia flung her legs out of the car, pushing out of it, and the valet froze, openmouthed. A gleam of admiration flickered in his eyes and he nodded respectably, at her, “Mademoiselle, bon soir. Welcome to The Waterside Inn.”

Sophia thanked him and opened the trunk for him to retrieve her bag, but Alistair was already there and took both his and hers in one hand.

He stretched out his free hand to her, an olive-branch offering.

She immediately took his hand and smiled.

They walked to Ryepeck Cottage, one of a few that were dotted around the restaurant. The Waterside Inn was more personal than an average hotel.

It’s really cozy. Sophia breathed in the chilly night air.

“We don’t offer room service, but there’s a guest kitchen at the end of the corridor, where you’ll find a Nespresso coffee machine and a variety of teas. And of course, a continental breakfast is served in the morning in your room or in the private garden. Just call us whenever you are ready,” the staff member explained, proudly. He opened the door to the cottage and paused halfway down the corridor to open the door to their suite, holding it open for them.

Located on the first floor, La Rivière, the suite Alistair had chosen, had a comfortable sitting room next to the bedroom, with a king-sized bed, and the bathroom with a combined tub and shower, enormous fluffy white towels and many L’Occitane toiletries.

Sophia emerged from the bathroom and looked at the subtly luxurious rooms all done in red-and-gold silks and damasks. She kicked off her red leather loafers and threw herself on the bed, stretching.

“These seem very comfortable,” he pointed to her shoes.

“They are. I love them. Guido is the best leather shop in Argentina. I have a hard time finding shoes my size, so every time I go to Buenos Aires, I buy three or four pairs. They have incredible shoes for men, too.”

He made a face. “Probably not in my size. I wear thirteen and a half, UK size. I’ve always had problems with clothes and shoes.” He gave her a ghost of a smile.

“Rochester Big & Tall, then?” she chuckled. “Or bribe every salesman in England to hold the only available pair of shoes in your size and shirts and cardigans, with the longest sleeves and the longest jeans.”

He laughed, “Aye, how did you guess?”

“Although Gabriel is not as tall as you, he has-” she choked at her slip. Unnerved, she jumped from the bed and strolled barefoot out to the private garden, which ran to the edge of the River Thames. She sat on a bench, tucking her feet under her legs. She missed the enchanting view of the river as she blinked away her tears.

Fuck you, Gabriel. Fuck you. Alistair grabbed the coat she had neatly hanged in the closet and walked to her side, putting the coat over her shoulders.

“Tomorrow we’re going to have breakfast by the river,” he said, sitting by her side, pointing to a table strategically set under an old majestic tree to his right. “It’s lovely here.”

“Do you often think about your daughter?” she asked in a small voice.

“Every day,” he murmured in her hair, his arms encompassing her and bringing her to his lap. “Every single day.”

They remained quiet for some minutes, each one immersed in their own thoughts, the sound of the water lapping at the sand soothing their scarred souls.

“When did she die?” Alistair’s neck muffled Sophia’s voice.

“Last year, on January thirtieth,” he squeezed her in his arms. “When they lowered her little coffin to the earth, I almost flung myself into that fucking hole, too.” He shuddered and lifted her chin to make her look at him. “I made a promise to her that day that I would never, ever fall in love again. That I would never again let a woman command my heart.” He lowered his head to kiss her gently, his hand stroked her hair, and whispered on her lips, “May she forgive me.”

8.55 p.m.

Christ, she’s breathtaking. Alistair had no recollection of uttering a sound, though he was sure he had because of the smiling look on her face.

How has she become so dear to me in such a small space of time? The thought scared him.

He watched as she held out her hand to him, motioning for him to escort her to dinner, a beautiful smile on her face.

She had darkened her eyes with kohl, which made them even bigger and clearer, and she had put on dark red lipstick that made her lips fuller and more enticing. She pinned her Nereid clip over her heart. She wore ruby earrings with the matching ring.

Her ruby wool dress alone nearly brought him to his knees. It left her shoulders bare and fitted snuggly on her torso, showing off her breasts and small waist, softly flaring into a skirt that caressed her hips and thighs when she walked. Her black lace peep toe booties were the perfect delicate foil for her feet. She carried a fringed red, black, and silver shahtoosh shawl and a black purse.

He was tempted to press her to the wall and have her right then and there, smearing that dark red lipstick all over their mouths.

As they exited the cottage, in an unconsciously sensual movement, she opened her shawl and threw it around her neck and over her shoulders, one end longer than the other, and draped it over her back.

It tortured him to watch as she wandered down the lawn, the wool clinging to her curves, the fringes of the shawl caressing her butt. Mouth dry, he buttoned his jacket making sure his erection stayed hidden.

“Have you brought the wine?” Sophia asked, tucking a strand of her long, midnight-black hair behind her ear.

He cleared his throat, “I left it with the concierge when we checked-in.”

“Right.” She eyed him askance, “Is everything okay?”

He loomed over her, pressing her onto the restaurant outer wall. “Actually, Sophia, I’d rather return to the room,” he answered in his deep and hoarse voice.

She laughed, pushing at his chest, “Later, Handsome, later. Now, I have to replenish the strength you devoured.”

“Well said, Beauty,” he grinned at her, “it was quite a feast. I’ll indulge you.” He slapped her butt and towed her inside. “For now.”

“Everything I hoped and expected,” Alistair said, putting a hand on his flat stomach. “The Roux family is blessed.”

They were seated at the rear of the restaurant. The tables were more intimate, and they could enjoy the ebb and flow of the River Thames, reflected in the mirrored panels above their heads.

“If only every day were like this,” she sighed, contentedly, enjoying the elegant environment.

“This is just the beginning, Sophia. Our days together will be memorable,” he leaned in her direction to kiss her leisurely on the lips. “Now, the best part of dinner: dessert.”

“I didn’t know you liked it so much,” she said.

He grinned broadly. “Oh, I do like dessert. But, sweetheart,” he brushed his thumb over her lips, “what fascinates me is the way you make love to the dammed thing.” He pressed his finger on her lower lip, “To say it drives me crazy doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

She laughed, “Next time I’ll order dessert as an entrée, main course aaaand dessert.”

“Then, I will have to have you on the table, in the middle of our dinner,” his beautiful eyes flashed devilishly.

She thinned her lips, trying to contain her laughter, but it bubbled up anyway, “Alistair Connor! You have the strangest ideas.”

“I love it when you call me Alistair Connor,” he smiled.

“Alistair Connor,” she said, raspy. “It’s a beautiful name. As strong as its owner. What does your name mean?”

“I have no idea,” he shrugged, “and yours?”

“Sophia is Greek for wisdom.” She grabbed her iPhone from her purse. “Let’s see what yours means.”

She whistled low as the answer appeared on the screen and looked at him, “That’s what I call powerful, Alistair Connor.” Her eyes flickered back to the screen. “Alistair means the savior of mankind and Connor,” she typed in his second name. Her eyes scanned the information. “Also Gaelic, like Alistair, but,” her lips curled up and she looked at him with teasing eyes, “Sure you want to know?”

He nodded, smiling. I’m no savior, Sophia. Nothing is less apt.

“Connor means a lover of hounds. I thought you were fond of women,” she giggled.

“Still in doubt about that, Sophia?” Alistair raised his brows at her taunting, “Seems to me that I’ll have to strive to prove it to you.”

“Seems so, Alistair Connor,” her smile broadened and a mischievous look appeared in her eyes.

Alistair jumped in his seat. “Christ, Sophia,” he hissed in a breath when her hand clamped down on his crotch.

She shifted on her chair and blinked innocently at him, “What?”

“Don’t play with fire,” he leaned toward her, his hand diving under the table to press hers down onto him, “if you don’t want to get burned.”

She batted her long, dark lashes at him while brushing her fingers on his growing erection, “Alistair Connor, I’m just testing a theory.”

“Very funny,” he huffed. A slow rakish grin spread on his face, “Please, feel free to test it, then. Right here, right now.”

She threw her head back and laughed, “Are you coaxing me, Alistair Connor?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he challenged.

“Oh,” she breathed, the mix of the potential danger and strong lust turning her blood to lava. “Oh.” She smiled as she bent in his direction, her hand still fondling him, “Wouldn’t I?” she murmured in his ear, “Wanna bet?”

“Aye,” he answered, “a thousand pounds.”

“I don’t gamble with money. Let’s say,” she paused, thinking.

He leaned over and proposed in her ear, “Your ass.”

Her hand stilled on him. “What?”

“Your ass,” he repeated, his breath fanning her earlobe before he licked and nibbled it. “If I win, I’ll fuck your ass tonight.”

She backed away from his caresses, blinking and biting her lip, too astonished to speak.

“You’ve never done it,” he breathed, a weird expression spreading on his face. The information simultaneously surprised him and made him happy.

“No, I’ve never done it,” she murmured, shaking her head slowly.

“And?” His blood ran hot with expectation and desire. He lifted his hand to tuck a strand behind her ear, letting his fingers brush her face and neck.

“And?” she parroted, trembling with uncertainty. God, what should I answer now? Yes? No?

“Do you feel like trying?”

“I don’t know.” She withdrew her hand and put it demurely on the arm of the chair, looking down at her lap.

Don’t push your luck, Alistair Connor. He held her hand gently and his thumb caressed her knuckles, “Let’s take a rain check, Beauty, no need to be frightened.” He kissed her inner wrist and signaled to the waiter. “Shall we order dessert?”

“I know what I want.” She waved her menu away. “Alain’s selection of six mouthwatering desserts.”

“Mademoiselle, it takes up to twenty minutes to prepare this dish,” the waiter informed her.

Sophia looked up at Alistair who answered, “It’s up to you, Beauty. We have time.” He studied the menu.

“Let’s share it,” she suggested.

“All right.” He closed the menu and handed it back to the waiter who thanked them and left, after replenishing their glasses with wine.

“Can I ask something personal?” she started tentatively.

“Aye,” he answered.

She drank a gulp of wine and cocked her head, studying him, still unsure how to broach the subject.

“Come on, Sophia, don’t be shy,” he coached.

“All right, here it goes,” she inhaled deep. “Someone, err, showed me some photos of you with lots of different women. I mean, I’ve seen-”

“Aye, I’ve had many women, but no relationships.”

“Even when you were married,” she affirmed.

“Yes, even then,” he nodded.

“How many?” she blurted.

“I don’t keep tabs, but I had more than three.” He smirked at her, avoiding answering her.

She made a face at him, “So, Lord Expert, with all your knowledge you still think I am a beauty.”

“I’ve had hundreds of women but no one like-”

“Dear God!” she interrupted him, her eyes huge, “Hundreds?”

“Hundreds,” he confirmed with an irritating simper on his lips.

Sophia’s eyes opened wide, “So, I’m bound to bump into one of your exes.”

“You might. But I don’t consider them my exes or whatever you want to call them. They were mere encounters to abate lust. I always made that crystal clear from the get-go. And some are not from our circle.”

Unsettled, Sophia’s eyes darkened to a shade of brown. She chewed her lips as she studied his inscrutable face. And then his last sentence popped back into her mind.

“What do you mean by ‘some are not from our circle?’” she asked with a puzzled frown.

He sighed. “Some were professionals.”

“You mean, you mean…” she couldn’t complete the thought.

His lips curled at her hesitation, “Sophia, yes, every now and then a man like me calls an escort.”

“Like you?”

“I have a very high sex drive.” His face split with an amused grin, his eyes twinkling.

“You’re laughing at me,” she huffed.

“It’s impossible not to,” he sniggered, “you’re too good to be true.” He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose and then her lips.

“So, you weren’t lying when you said that you would call an ex or an escort,” she blushed and looked down, “And-”

“No. I don’t need to lie, Sophia.” He curled his fingers under her chin, lifting her face to peer into her troubled eyes, “And?”

“Sometimes you seem so cold. All business; all logic and facts.”

He gave her that ghost of a smile and he stared appraisingly at her remark. “Possibly.”

“And where-”

“Where?”

Sophia bit down on her lip, thinking for a second. “No dates, no one to love. Where is your heart in all this?”

“I don’t have a heart, Sophia. Not anymore. It’s buried six feet under,” he answered in a dry tone. Let it be, Sophia.

“Why do you insist in saying that?”

“Because it’s true,” his lip curled into a grimace.

“You appear to like only blondes,” she flicked her eyes to the other tables.

“I have a preference for blondes.”

She flinched and opened her mouth to speak. He immediately reached out and put his finger over her mouth.

“But as I was saying before being rudely interrupted by your unconvinced remark about the number of my sexual partners,” he teased, “I’ve never had a woman like you. There’s something about you. Something special,” he murmured. “Something that makes me want to do things I’ve never wanted before, with or for any other woman.”

His deep voice transfixed Sophia.

“Something has attracted me to you since that Wednesday - a cold and gray January day - when you entered the meeting room. It was like-” Christ, Alistair Connor! You’re swooning like a lovesick teenager. He stared at her face, enthralled by the bafflement imprinted there. Fuck! Fuck my rules, fuck my promises. Fuck everything.

He cupped her face in his long fingers, his thumb pressing on the center of her soft and plump lips. “It was like the sun had appeared again in my life, Sophia,” he crooned. “You. You changed everything when you stepped into that room. You have a freshness, a strength, an allure, I’ve never seen before. The way you walk, talk, hold yourself. The way you move your hands, with your long red nails. You’ve become the light of my life.”

His words turned her speechless. How can he say these things after saying he has no heart? His beautiful words reminded her of Gabriel’s a long time ago and she shivered. Too soon, too soon.

“I was mad with jealousy.” He exhaled as if he had run a marathon.

She shook her head to disperse the spell he had cast over her, “Jealousy?”

“I thought you and Davidoff were lovers,” he said sheepishly.

She chuckled, “Really? I don’t believe it.” She smiled and cocked her head, “Why would you think that?”

“You were so intimate, you touched him with a-” he frowned, searching for the right word to describe the way she touched and talked to Edward, “I dare say you were overly familiar with each other.”

“I’ve known Edward since I got married and - what can I say - I’m Brazilian. A Carioca. We touch and kiss and hug all the time. We are friendly people. For you British, it is strange. But it’s common behavior for us.”

“I’m not British, Sophia. I’m a Highlander,” he said cryptically and, releasing her face, shoved his hand through his raven strands to push away a lock that had fallen over his eye.

Sophia ran her fingers over his hair. “I love your hair,” she murmured. “It softens your controlled and rigid posture. It betrays you.”

He frowned, puzzled, “Betrays me?”

“It’s windblown, and… I-don’t-give-a-fuck hair-”

He burst out laughing.

“What?” she stared at him, “Are you laughing at me again?”

“No.” He chuckled, “Sorry. Yes, I am. It’s the first time I’ve heard you saying the F-word. It’s adorable.” He chortled again and murmured, enchanted, “Everything about you is adorable.”

A movement caught his attention and he turned his head to look at a couple stopped in the middle of the restaurant.

Sophia followed his gaze. Sophia watched as a distinguished older man escorted a gorgeous blonde, blue-eyed woman scantily clad in a tight lemon-yellow dress. The woman reminded her of Juliette, the previous owner of her house.

The blonde woman discreetly pointed at them and whispered something into the man’s ear. She flashed a look at Alistair. The man nodded at them and studied Sophia carefully. He said something that made the woman laugh out loud. Still giggling, she put a hand over her mouth and started walking in their direction. Alistair’s glare and slight shake of his head stopped her short.

A sudden chill ran through Sophia’s spine. Is she one of his exes?

The woman’s face fell and she again whispered in the man’s ear and threw her head back in a fake and spiteful laugh. The man just smiled and nodded at Alistair from afar.

Sophia looked at Alistair, who sat rigid on his chair. His fists clenched and his eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on the woman.

If looks could kill, the blonde would drop dead right now. Sophia swallowed, her gaze fixed on the stunning woman. Just before she exited the restaurant, she turned and blew a kiss to them, winking.

“Alistair,” Sophia put a hand over Alistair’s clenched right fist and he whipped his head toward her, his hair flying over his face from the sharp movement.

“What?” he growled, looking at Sophia, but he saw the shimmering mask of his beautiful blonde, blue-eyed ex-wife.

“Are-are you okay?” she stammered, unsettled by his behavior.

He deeply inhaled. His hand ran over his face and nape and he rolled his neck over his broad shoulders, cracking it. “Aye,” he answered in a more normal voice, “Everything. Is. Fine.”

“What-” Sophia interrupted herself when the waiter approached with their dessert. “Mmm, your favorite part of dinner.” She licked her lips and smiled at him, a sassy look in her eyes, “Prepare yourself, Alistair Connor.”

“Sophia,” he entwined his fingers with hers, “I don’t think I’ll ever be prepared for you.”

Chapter 24

11.07 p.m.

On the way out of the restaurant, Alistair took Sophia’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, squeezing it lightly. He looked down at her, “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to the cottage?”

She bit her lip to contain her smug smile and nodded, “Yes, I’d like a relaxing Armagnac.” She stopped and craned her neck to look at his face, raising an eyebrow at him with a mischievous look in her eyes and licking her lips. “And also, I find it very, mmm, stimulating to smoke a cigar after dinner.”

He flashed a grin of even, white teeth, his green eyes sparkling, “Surely, you’re not provoking me, are you?”

“No, no,” she answered with a naïve grin, batting her eyelashes. “I’d never dream of doing that.”

He shook his head at her. “Sophia, Sophia,” he breathed. “You drive me to distraction.”

“Do I?” Her happy smile was contagious. She towed him to the garden. “Please, will you ask a waiter to bring our drinks and cigars.”

He stood there, dumbstruck by her haughty and commanding manner. He shook his head in disbelief. She ordered him around and she expected him to obey her. And, worse, he knew he would do as she asked. Seems as if I’m wrapped around her finger.

Sophia stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. “I’ll wait for you here, Handsome,” and flashed him a broad smile. She pushed him with her hands on his hips, her thumbs brushing his already semi-hard member.

He leaned down to nibble her earlobe and whispered in her ear, “You’re playing with fire, Sophia.”

“Maybe I want to get burned,” she answered in a throaty voice, turning and leaving him standing. He watched her, mesmerized as she walked to the edge of the riverbank.

He shook his head again, slower this time, not sure if he should be amused. He returned to the restaurant to look for a waiter. I’ve been shaking my head too much, lately.

A smile of pure joy appeared on his face as he strolled inside, lighthearted, whistling one of the songs from Sophia’s playlist under his breath.

11.12 p.m.

Alistair narrowed his eyes at the scene by the river. Sophia laughed at something a blond man said. Rage boiled in his veins as the man leaned near her to say something. She laughed harder and put a hand over her right breast, an unconsciously sensual gesture. The man put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed as she spoke and giggled.

Before Alistair knew what he was doing, he strode up to them with the liquid grace of a panther.

Alistair stopped beside them. Neither one had noticed him as they laughed on. He cleared his throat. “I’m not intruding, am I?”

“Alistair!” Sophia jumped and then smiled at him. “No, of course not. This is Judge Albert Ackerman. Albert, this is a friend of mine, Alistair MacCraig.”

“Mr. MacCraig, how do you do?” The blond man stretched his hand to shake Alistair’s.

“How do you do?” Alistair shook it briefly and discouraging further intimacy, turned to Sophia informing her in an icy voice, “I have ordered that our drinks and cigars are brought to our private garden.” He stressed the words and grabbed Sophia’s hand. He bowed his head in a sharp movement to the blond man, “Good night, Your Honor.” And he lugged Sophia, who waved hastily to her friend and she tripped behind Alistair.

“Wait, wait!” Sophia pulled his hand and stopped when they arrived at the cottage door. She squinted to peruse his expression in the moonless night and took a deep breath when she felt his dark mood.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low and laden with distrust. “This is a friend of mine, Alistair MacCraig,” he mimicked.

“Well, I wasn’t quite sure how to introduce you,” she answered shakily. “I didn’t mean-”

“Boyfriend, date, lover, whatever.” He threw a hand up, exasperated. “Not a friend.” He released the doorknob, leaving the door open, and moved aggressively toward her. “Never a simple friend,” he snarled. “Do you fuck your friends, Sophia?”

“Alistair,” she was thoroughly shocked at his sudden rage.

“I told you we were dating. I’m in a relationship with you, just as you asked me. But still, I’m a friend?” He put his forearms on the outer wall of the cottage and caged her between his arms and body. “What were you two chatting about?” His voice was icy and his eyes narrowed to thin slits.

“We were just talking about a funny case he heard yester-”

Alistair’s large hand shot to her throat and he tightened his long fingers around it, cutting her air.

Her head banged on the wall. Her eyes became huge with astonishment.

“Don’t lie,” he warned and tightened the grip, “I noticed your body language. It was too intimate.”

When her cold hand wrapped around his wrist, he released her throat, astonished at his violent reaction, moving his hand up to cup her face.

Sophia felt her own fingers, still wrapped around his wrist, against her jaw. It was almost a tender gesture despite the anger in his eyes. She gasped and coughed lightly, cupping her throat in her other hand. She glared at him.

“Are you crazy?” she graveled. “Release me. Now.”

He winced at the sign of his violent gesture. The familiar jealousy ran hot through his veins and reminded him of another time and woman.

In his efforts to prove himself to Sophia, forget Heather’s betrayal, and forgive himself, he’d been suppressing his darkest desires. However, restraining his aggressive nature wore him down. The only thing that kept him in check was the difference he had seen from the beginning in his experiences with Sophia - different from any other women he had known. He felt his recent tenuous hold on his self-control nearly gone.

She pushed him back, palming his chest with both hands, and stepped forward, hissing, “I will talk to whomever I want, whenever I want, about whatever I-”

Alistair grabbed her, one hand gripping her hair and the other sliding down her thigh. He propelled her back until she felt the cold wall against her back through her dress. His hard body aligned with hers forcefully.

“You are mine, Sophia. I don’t want to see another man’s hands on you. Ever.” He yanked her head back, “Never, do you understand, Sophia? You don’t want to see me lose control,” he hissed through clenched teeth, so close to her face that his breath fanned her cheeks.

He parted her mouth violently with his tongue and caught her bottom lip with his teeth, biting down.

Sophia shoved her hands in his hair and tugged back trying to free herself from the kiss, but the movement just spurred his lust.

His hand slid over the curve of her back, massaging it with his long fingers. He wasn’t being careful or gentle now.

Alistair lifted her left leg, pulling her thigh around his hip and pressing her between him and the wall. His huge erection imprinted itself on her belly, leaving no room for doubt about his state of arousal. Her shawl dropped, rustling to the ground.

“Why do I feel you slipping through my fingers?” he grunted, his mouth trailing down the column of her neck.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m yours,” she avowed in a raw voice, “Nobody else’s.” My goodness! The man is more jealous than Gabriel and Ethan put together.

“That wasn’t what I saw.” He nipped her bare shoulder. “And I’ve told you before: I don’t share.”

“Neither do I,” she said, breathless from his bold caresses.

His fingers slid under her dress and up her thigh, teasing the skin encased in black thigh-highs until it reached her frilly lace thong.

“Christ, this is-” His hands seized the thin, delicate embellishment and ripped it apart.

“God, Alistair,” she breathed, “have you gone completely insane?”

“Aye.” His eyes glinted green flames in the semi-darkness. “You make me unhinged. In so many ways, I can’t start recounting now.” He smiled dangerously before pressing his lips to her ear, “Is this for me?” He held up the torn thong for a second before fisting it in his closed hand.

“Yes,” she reached up and grasped a fistful of his hair, dragging his head down and hissing fervently on his lips, “for you. Only you. Always you.”

Without warning, Alistair lifted her, pressing her against the cold wall.

“Don’t,” she gasped. “We’re going to get caught.”

“One of these days, I’m going to have my wicked way with you.” He let her glide down his body.

He picked up her shawl and put it around her shoulders. He brought the thong to his nose, inhaling her scent, shoved it in the inner pocket of his jacket, and towed her inside the cottage with sparse movements. “Someday, I’m going to tie you down, really tie you,” he said with a gruff voice, “and not allow any movements and drive you mad with desire - just like you torture me - until you beg me to fill you and let you come.”

Oh, my. She didn’t think it would be possible for her to become aroused after what had just happened, but she was wrong. Images of herself bound and subject to his every whim sent a bolt of desire into her pelvis. She shivered and panted.

He locked their room door and pressed her against the silk paneled wall of the sitting room of their suite. His hands ripped away her shawl, flinging it across the room. It fell on the floor but neither one noticed. “I can see you like the idea.”

Oh, yeah, I do. She liked that idea too damn much, if her reaction was any clue.

“I’m going to fuck you. Here. Standing. Against the wall,” he hissed in her ear as he took his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a condom, shoving it between her teeth, “Open it.” With his left hand, he unzipped his trousers, shoving them and his boxers, lower onto his hips.

She clamped her teeth on the foil and he pulled, taking out the condom and sheathing himself.

His hands gripped her dress and shoved it up, binding it around her waist. He grabbed her buttocks. His lips kissed her neck, he pushed their hips closer. He lifted her easily. “Put your legs around my waist,” he commanded in a husky voice, “and hold on to me.”

The long, thin heels of Sophia’s delicate booties caught the curves of his butt and he groaned, his eyes sizzling her.

Sophia had a hard time organizing her thoughts. She gave up and let them scatter away when he pressed his massive length on her bare skin.

Alistair had never been a quiet man when it came to sex. He owned his sexuality in a raw, dark way. However, he had yet to unleash it completely with Sophia. But the thought of another man having her after she had been his, snapped his control.

He drove into her in one hard thrust and she closed her eyes tight, moaning.

“You’re so tight, so hot, you make me harder than I’ve ever been. I can’t wait to come.” He nipped her neck.

Sophia couldn’t answer. She was caught up in the frenzy of his desire and lowered her mouth to his neck, biting him to avoid screaming. A fire burned hot in her veins, her very being a bubbling volcano. She threaded her fingers in his silky soft hair and her nails dug into his scalp. She moaned low and long and pleaded, “Alistair, please, make me come.”

He shifted his hold on her butt to free one arm. He shoved a hand between their bodies and pressed his thumb on her clitoris. “That’s it,” he said through clenched teeth as he thrust deeply into her, over and over, their desire spiking. “Come with me. I’m so close.” He groaned and his cock jerked within her in agreement.

A flash travelled through her spine and her body sizzled with it. She lifted her head and yanked his down to a scorching, primal kiss. Her muscles contracted around him, as he pushed deeper and stilled, pressing her onto the wall. With a low scream, she exploded with passion. She convulsed in his arms, trembling so hard she was sure she was being torn apart. Her limbs weakened and she tumbled against him as her inner muscles narrowed one last time around his length.

Alistair grunted loudly as lightning speared through his spine and exploded behind his eyes, making him dizzy with the force of his incoming orgasm.

He heaved and gasped out loud.

“Sophia.” His low whisper became a plea of devotion. He repeated her name over and over as he came violently.

Her hard breathing on his neck made him shudder with renewed desire.

He kissed her mussed up hair. “Christ, Sophia.” His green eyes were flaming. “You’re mine,” he rumbled in his chest. “Mine, do you understand?” He embraced her tightly against his chest, anxiety burrowing deep in his soul.

“Yes,” she breathed in his scent, “yours.” She loved his smell. A scent unlike anyone else’s in the entire world. Sublimely Alistair.

He walked them to the bedroom with careful strides, his trousers still on his hips and laid her down on the bed. He went to the bathroom and flung the condom in the wastepaper basket. He shed his clothes quickly, leaving them on the chair there.

When he returned to the room, she was already under the sheets. She rested against a mound of white pillows, her raven hair framing her face and upper body. Despite her beauty, the troubled look in her eyes caught his attention. He paused in the middle of the room, uncertain of what to do.

Sophia held out a hand to him, motioning to the empty space next to her. “Alistair, I deserve your trust.”

He winced when she spoke, her voice raspy and low, which confirmed his previous brutality. He walked slowly to a chest of drawers and grabbed a T-shirt and pajama shorts. He dressed and sat on the edge of the bed, scowling.

She waited for his apology in silence. She had no idea what had brought about the outburst or what he would say next. His erratic behavior unnerved her.

“Did I hurt you, Sophia?”

What do you think? Thousands of thoughts went through her mind in a rush. You’re a lawyer, Sophia. You’ve defended women who have been assaulted, battered, and raped. She shoved a hand in her hair, still studying him. What are you going to say to a man who just assaulted you before having wild, absolutely amazing sex?

For the first time in her whole life, she began to understand the dilemma of many women in denouncing their companions. It wasn’t that easy to distinguish and decide what was right when so many emotions where involved.

“Sophia?” he coached, gently.

“It’s okay,” she cleared her throat, trying to get her voice back to normal.

His hand stretched to caress her hair but stopped midair.

Her hand met his halfway and she entwined her fingers with his, putting their hands on her lap. She looked down from his face to their interlaced hands and up again, staring deeply into his green eyes.

Alistair noticed that her eyes were not the beautiful yellow-diamond color he saw when she was turned on or sated after making love. He so loved that color.

She hooded her eyes when she noticed him studying them. But he had already seen that they were tinged with a light brown and it made a strange emotion unfurl in his chest.

A knock sounded on the door, startling them and breaking the awkward silence that had descended in the room.

“I’ll answer it,” he whispered and rose from the bed.

Sophia could hear another male voice. The waiter, probably. She had completely forgotten about the Armagnac and cigars she had wanted.

She jumped off the bed and took a wrap from the closet, donning it. When she heard the door closing, she quietly entered the sitting room and saw Alistair standing in the middle of it. He lowered his head and ran a hand over his nape, frowning. His posture echoed his utter dejection.

He raised his head slowly to examine her, a concerned look on his face. He motioned to a bottle of Armagnac and a cigar box on the table. “Do you still want?”

She shook her head.

He stepped slowly in her direction as if afraid of scaring her. “Did I hurt you?”

She tilted her head back to face him. “Do you want the truth?” she whispered, careful not to hurt her throat anymore.

“Aye,” he nodded, halting only when he almost touched her, “Yes, I do.”

“You did,” she answered him ruthlessly, “I’ll probably have your fingers printed all over my throat tomorrow morning, not to mention your hands on my thighs and my ass.”

He flinched at her bluntness. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His forehead rested on hers and he caressed her back with slow, circular movements. “I really am. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You were… jealous.”

“You’re right. I was jealous.” More than jealous, Sophia. I felt insecure and afraid. I felt rejected and betrayed. And I don’t like those feelings. “And possessive,” he said. “Not only jealous. Possessive, too. I have issues with trust, Sophia.”

“Albert Ackerman is just a fellow lecturer at Cambridge. And he’s married. He was waiting for his wife to join him.” She swallowed with care, her throat hurting.

“Marriage never stopped anyone from betraying.”

“Well, it’s a determinant for me.” She stared at his green eyes. “I believe in principles and morals. I’m faithful.”

“And I’m an idiot.” He said, his low, deep voice filled with sadness.

Sophia raised an eyebrow, “Can I agree with you? Or you are going to asphyxiate me again?”

He winced and she stood on her tiptoes, kissing his lips in forgiveness, saying, “However strange this may be,” her hands delved under his T-shirt to stroke his back in a calming caress, “even after everything, I liked the sex.” Mind you, Alistair Connor, the sex.

She astonished him. Is she forgiving and trying to soothe me? He put his arms around her and she leaned onto his chest.

“Is your throat hurting?” he asked, his voice concerned.

Sleep on it, Sophia. Don’t think about it. Give yourself some time to cool down. She nodded, “It will get better.”

“Sophia-”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now. Tomorrow.” She rested her forehead on his chest and stifled a yawn on his T-shirt.

“Come,” he picked her up in his arms and she nestled her face into the hollow of his neck, “let’s sleep.”

Make things light, Sophia. “Why are you always carrying me in your arms?”

“You’re light as a feather, I’m strong and,” he shrugged, “I like you where you are.” He squeezed her in his arms and felt her smile against his neck.

“I see. I just missed the stomping,” she teased.

His lips turned up in a small smile as she used his own words against him. And, although he felt too downcast to be amused, he tried to keep up with her mood. “Tomorrow morning, I will show you the child sleeping beside you.” If you still want me.

Chapter 25

Sunday, March 14th, 2010.

6.57 a.m.

Sophia woke to the gentle sunlight streaming into their room.

They had forgotten to close the curtains.

Her back was snuggled flush to Alistair’s front, his arms wrapped around her like bands, and her head rested on his shoulder. He caged her as if he feared she would run away. She didn’t know if she should smile or grimace at the possessiveness of the position and, very cautiously, she turned in his arms.

In his sleep, his face looked relaxed and young. Several strands of raven hair fell over his forehead.

So handsome. So distrustful. What am I going to do with you, Alistair Connor?

She tried to disengage herself from his embrace without waking him, but he mumbled something in his sleep and tightened his hold on her. His eyelids fluttered and he blinked, focusing green sleepy eyes on her.

“‘Morning,” he whispered and kissed her forehead, grinning. “I like waking up to the sight of you.”

“Sorry, I-” she croaked. Her larynx hurt when she spoke and she put her hand on her neck, clearing her throat but ended up emitting a small pained sound.

Immediately, he sat on the bed, pulling her with him. “Let me see your neck.” His hand pulled hers away and he paled, closing his eyes at the sight of his fingers imprinted in black-and-blue on her skin. “I am a monster,” he muttered under his breath, disgusted with himself. He inhaled a deep breath and his beautiful green eyes filled with sorrow, “Please, Sophia, forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven. I’ll be fine in a few hours.” She gave him a small smile and her palm touched his cheek. “Some honey and hot pomegranate tea will cure this,” she said and frowned. She squirmed from his embrace and jumped off the bed, smiling, “I’ll be right back.”

Despite her light words, Alistair felt totally miserable. He looked at his large hands and brooded over the absurdity of his actions.

A low whimper followed by a heartbroken sob and the sound of a key being hastily turned made his head come up sharply.

Sophia! Oh, Christ. He knocked softly on the bathroom door. “Sophia, please, my dear, open the door.”

All he could hear were her sobs.

“Please, Sophia. Open the door. Let’s talk. Please,” he begged, to no avail.

Alistair rested his back and head on the wall, eyes squeezed shut, and slid down to the floor. What have I done?

Sophia’s muffled sobs cut through his despair. Enraged with himself, he pushed up from the floor and grabbed the phone to ask reception for a spare key to the bathroom.

Sophia huddled in the corner of the bathroom, hugging her legs.

Never, in her whole life, she thought she would see so many black-and-blue marks on her own body. And she didn’t know what to make of it. I haven’t been beaten, I haven’t been-I bruise easily, that’s it. Who are you trying to fool, Sophia? The man is- She sobbed again and more tears rolled down her face, dripping on the bathrobe she wore.

She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to face it.

She liked him. She really did.

And she didn’t know what to do with this situation.

You provoked his ire, Sophia. You shouldn’t have - Oh, please, it was not my fault. She dropped her head onto her knees and cried, confused and lost. Her mixed feelings and sorrow tormented so much her that she didn’t hear when the inside key dropped, the lock turned, and Alistair quietly entered the bathroom. He dropped to his haunches beside her.

He lightly stroked her hair. “Sophia, please,” he murmured.

She threw herself in his arms.

She was not supposed to trust him, but she didn’t know any better. Over the past few weeks, he had unlocked the door to her heart and had raided her soul. Now she didn’t want to believe him capable of turning into an abusive man. No, no. It was… What, Sophia? An accident, like what happened with Ethan?

Alistair’s whole body tensed from the many emotions running wild in his chest. He didn’t say a word and rose with her cradled in his arms.

He had been doing foul things in his life to fill the void that Heather had created with her sick pleasures. But since he met Sophia, he couldn’t discern the emptiness anymore. He had been unfulfilled, yes, but now he had Sophia. And Gabriela. He couldn’t afford to lose them. He couldn’t.

Alistair sat in the armchair in the bedroom and rocked Sophia in his arms, patiently waiting for the tears to subside. “Please, Sophia, forgive me,” he whispered.

She sniffled and cleaned her face with the sleeve of the bathrobe. She nestled herself better in his arms and hid her face in the hollow of his neck. She knew they had to talk about what happened but she didn’t want to. In fact, her reaction shocked her more than his actions. She shuddered in his arms.

“I’m so sorry-”

Her hand clamped over his mouth.

“You are forgiven, Alistair. I told you.” She hiccupped, woefully, and the tears started to fall again. She wiped them before they fell on Alistair’s sweater. “I cried because when I looked in the mirror-”

“Oh, Christ,” he murmured and he leaned his cheek against hers, cradling her face between his face and his shoulder.

They remained silent for a long time. Sophia’s occasional sniffs punctuated the silence.

He buried his head in her hair and whispered, “I don’t know what got into me.”

I know. You, Alistair Connor, were psychotically jealous and went berserk.

Instead of voicing her thoughts or talking back, she caressed his hair and nape and murmured, “Make love to me.”

And I’ve gone completely insane.

He lifted his head, disbelief shimmering in his forest-green eyes for a second. “You don’t mean it. We have to talk about what happened-”

“We do. But later,” she whispered, careful not to scare him with her voice. She cupped his head to bring his lips close to hers, running her tongue over their seam, and playfully licking them. “I want you to make love to me. Gently. And slowly.”

“I’ll be gentle, Beauty,” he murmured, ashamed. His eyes were so dark they seemed black. He kissed her tenderly and raised his head a bit, to look into her eyes. He whispered again on her mouth, his voice strained and sorrowful, “I’m sorry, Sophia. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“I know,” she rasped, “we’re going to work this out.” And kissed him with all the faith inside her heart. “You have to start believing. In you. In me. In us.”

He returned the kiss, completely bewildered by her.

“Are you sore?” he breathed.

What do you think? You took me like a savage. “Uh…” She lowered her eyelids warring with the mixed feelings inside her. And you liked it, Sophia, you know you did. Sophia was totally baffled by her lack of self-preservation. Or at least, she told herself that. She wasn’t ready to face the deep feelings she had for Alistair and how they made her vulnerable to his whims.

“I know I was a brute, last night.” His hand cupped her face making her look at him. “The truth, Sophia.”

“A bit,” she whispered.

“I’ll be so gentle,” he murmured on her lips. He lowered his head to hers and took her mouth in a long, slow kiss, his tongue leisurely exploring her soft lips.

He nibbled his way down her neck. “Sophia, I-” he started to whisper against the skin of her jaw only to stop short, jerking his head up to look at her. I… love you? I love you. I. Love. You. The thought and the feeling made his chest expand painfully. It scared him. Christ. Is this for real?

“What?” she breathed on his mouth.

His green eyes flashed and a soft expression appeared on his face. One Sophia had never seen before. Alistair lovingly stroked her cheekbones and her jaw with his thumbs as if seeing her for the first time. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he murmured and bent his head to kiss her softly on the lips. His heart beat so fiercely it made him dizzy. “No, that’s not right,” he shook his head, raising it a bit to look deep into her eyes, he picked up her hand, putting it over his heart and rephrased, “I- I love you, Sophia.”

She blinked, “Oh.” She put her other hand in his silky raven hair and a beautiful, huge smile spread over her face, “And it scares the hell out of you, doesn’t it?

“Aye. It does.” He nodded, studying her face and bright clear eyes. “But it does not scare you, does it?”

If possible, her smile broadened even more, “No. Not a bit.” And she tugged his head down for a kiss that transmitted all her belief in him.

Alistair watched Sophia as she dozed snuggled to his body. If you give me another chance, I’ll fight all my inner demons and rebuild my life with you. I’m never going to hurt you again, mo chridhe. I swear it.

He brushed away her hair to look closely at the marks on her neck and brushed his fingers over them, flinching when she, even in her sleep, moved away from his touch.

His mouth pressed into a hard line. His violent gesture puzzled and shocked him. He had never been that aggressive before with any woman. Not even with Heather when he discovered her betrayal. Aye, I like to whip and spank women, but it is just for fun and pleasure. He scowled at himself. Fun? Pleasure? Really, Alistair Connor?

He shook his head. Since he had role-played as a dominant for Heather, for the first time he was horrified at that thought. Maybe with Heather it had been role-play, but after her… After her, I’ve been doing it as vengeance. But then, they always liked it and kept returning for more. He thinned his lips, aggravated. And, you, Alistair Connor? And you? Were you happy with that life?

He recalled all his black deeds with a new perspective. Sophia is worth a change. I have to make the right choices from now on.

When he was the same age she is now, he had behaved rakishly and recklessly, not caring about the consequences. In the exact opposite direction as her, instead of fortifying his character, he had debauched himself even more as the years went by. He had been punished with the death of an unborn baby and of his dear daughter. But it hadn’t been enough. I’ve drowned myself in an unbelievably dark and evil pool of mud and sewage for years.

Sophia shifted in his arms and moaned. He looked again at her neck and closed his eyes, sighing. There was no reason to react that strongly to a scene like the one I witnessed last night. He narrowed his arms around her. It was a simple conversation between friends. Nothing more.

Then a dark memory insinuated itself in his mind. The photos of his late wife with so many different men and women popped into his mind. A ferocious wrath surged through his body. In an attempt to control himself, he bit his inner cheek and tasted blood. You’re too biased, Alistair Connor. He shook his head and shooed the memories of Heather away.

Sophia has never given me cause to doubt her. And he remembered how she defended her late husband from Ethan’s cruel words and how love and admiration still showed in her voice when she spoke of him.

He looked down at her again as she shifted away from his body, leaving him cold.

Sophia’s head moved on the bed from side to side. Her eyelids tightened and her whole face contracted. She started to pant.

He shook her tenderly, murmuring her name but she was too caught up in the throes of the nightmare to wake up from it gently.

Her right hand shot up to her left upper arm, startling him.

He tried again and she moaned in pain and arched violently on the bed, panting harder.

Christ. “Sophia,” he called, louder, “wake up.”

Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead and she kicked the sheets. They tangled around her legs, making her more agitated. A broken and rough scream escaped from her throat.

Alistair’s heart shattered in a million pieces at another evidence of his thoughtless act. “Fuck, Sophia, wake up,” he yelled and shook her shoulders hard, her head bouncing up and down on the pillow. “I said wake up,” he roared.

Sophia’s disturbed and teary eyes shot open. She stared dumbly at him for a few moments until she could comprehend where she was. She sucked in a ragged breath and closed her eyes again, thinning her lips.

“You okay?” He released her shoulders slowly. He noticed that his fingers left red marks, new indentations on her skin. Great, Alistair Connor. Just great. You are going to cover the woman’s entire body in black-and-blue marks by the end of the day.

“Yes. I’m okay,” she answered hoarsely. “I-I’m sorry.”

He wrapped her in his arms and soothed her with tender, loving words in Gaelic, stroking her back lightly for some minutes until he felt her relaxing against his chest.

She looked at him, mortified that he had seen and heard her having that nightmare. “I’m so-”

He stopped her with a finger on her lips. “Are they still common or was it caused by my aggression?” He thinned his lips and drew his ink-black brows low.

“Oh, Alistair, please, don’t do this to yourself.”

He grimaced, “You had a nightmare when Ethan hurt you.”

“No, the nightmares aren’t triggered by…” she paused, searching for a word, “moves toward me.” She sighed, “I used to have them every night. It’s getting better now.”

“Have you seen a doctor recently?” He looked at her, worried.

“I have therapy sessions twice a week. But, how can I talk about something I don’t remember? How can I work it out if I don’t know what goes on in my head when I dream? It’s unsettling. I feel…” she shivered and finished in a mumble, “damaged, incomplete, sick.”

“Oh, Beauty,” he whispered onto her hair, “you’re perfect. Just perfect.” He squeezed her in his strong arms.

“No. I am not. I was diagnosed with severe stress and mood disorders after,” she waved her hand briefly over her scarred arm. “My mood and my behavior changed. I had to take lots of drugs. Not so long ago, I had therapy sessions every day. Every day,” she sighed. “I still see a psychiatrist once a month. I know I’m nothing but imperfection personified.”

He curled his fingers under her chin and made her look at him, commanding, “I forbid you to say that again. You’ve gone through an unimaginable horror and survived it. You’re a wonderful mother, a strong and competent businesswoman, and an amazing lover. You’re beautiful, gentle, understanding. You have an indomitable spirit. You humble me with your character.” He shook his head at her and pressed a finger in the center of her lips. “I don’t want to hear that again. Ever. Understood?”

All the traits he recited made him acknowledge the failings in his own character, now even more noticeable to himself. And that made him more resolute to better himself for her. He clenched his jaw as he glanced at her body, black-and-blue marks all over her thighs and neck.

Alistair kissed the top of Sophia’s head and inhaled her scent. White roses, oranges, and vanilla. Fresh, innocent, and sweet. Goodness. “You smell so good, Sophia,” he whispered in her hair.

“Make love to me again. Hard and fast. I want to feel alive,” she asked, offering her lips to him. “Make me feel alive, Alistair.”

Sophia nearly screamed when he softly bit her lip. “It feels so good,” she gasped. She gripped his hair and demanded, “Hard and fast.”

He just smiled and lowered his head into a heart-stopping kiss and shifted over her body, kissing and licking his way down.

He pulled her lower body off the edge of the bed until her legs draped over his forearms. His hands held her buttocks as he knelt on the floor. He grinned savagely at her before his teeth nipped her clitoris. “Good?” he asked and his tongue delved deep into her body.

“Yes, oh, yes.” She rocked in his mouth as his licks drove her crazy with need.

“Fingers?” He traced her seam softly with his index finger, teasing, stroking her to a fever pitch.

“Ah! Yes, please,” she gasped. She couldn’t contain her moans anymore when he dived one finger deep into her body, rotating it. And then two. He made a low growling noise and lapped at her clitoris. Digging her nails into his scalp, Sophia struggled to keep her orgasm at bay.

“What else do you like?” he whispered.

She fisted his thick, silk hair, threading her fingers through it, holding him close. “Everything. Keep going,” she gasped as she approached climax. She tugged roughly on his hair, pulling him up onto her body. “Take me. Hard.”

Her words brought his gaze to her face. He stood, sheathed himself, and held up her legs to wrap them around his waist while he pressed his hips forward until the tip of his shaft pressed against her. “Tell me, who do you want?” he rasped.

“You, Alistair Connor, only you,” she promised.

“Hard and fast?” he asked.

“Yes. Now!” Her heels pressed down on his buttocks.

His hands cupped her bottom and his thumbs parted her. A groan rumbled low in his throat as he shoved hard in one thrust.

A throaty scream escaped Sophia as he burrowed himself until the hilt.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he gasped. Pulling out, he repeated the sharp movement.

“Ah,” Sophia screamed, “yes.” His rough plunges kept her on the edge between pleasure and pain.

“Touch your breasts, Sophia.”

She opened her eyes, startled by his growled order.

“Touch yourself. I want to see you pleasuring yourself,” he crooned.

The command made her nonsensical. She had never done anything so bold. She cupped her breasts with her hands and looked at him. His green eyes caught fire.

Pleasure flared through her body as she noticed how turned on he was watching her. “Harder! Faster!” she demanded, as the climax peaked. She opened her eyes to look at the rugged visage of her pagan god.

He set a violent rhythm, his measured thrusts filling her with passion. “Come for me, Sophia,” he bent down to catch a nipple between his lips, sucking hard.

Suddenly, it hit her with violence, bright stars exploding behind her eyes, making her breathless and dizzy. Her muscles clamped around his invading arousal and they shouted together. He pulled her hips flush against his own. She felt a sharp pleasure as he pressed deeper.

“Yes,” he gasped as her orgasm triggered his. He plunged deep once again and stilled, his whole body stiff and his eyes closed tight. For several moments, he stayed immobile enjoying the sensual feelings coursing through his body and then collapsed on the bed, supporting himself on his forearms over her, his beautiful eyes searching hers.

He placed a kiss on her mouth and rolled onto his back, pulling her against his chest. He sighed deeply when her head rested below his chin and she purred, contented and sated.

“Sophia, you have just the right amount of energy for me,” he chuckled and felt her smiling on his chest. “And the weekend isn’t over yet.” His hand caressed her long hair. “I love you, mo chridhe.”

“What?”

He smiled. He hadn’t noticed he had spoken in Gaelic. “You, Sophia, you are mo chridhe. My heart.”

“Mmm. Mo chridhe,” she experienced the words on her tongue. “I like that.”

He didn’t try to order his emotions that felt completely out of control. He sensed a strange happiness filling his heart. An unrecognizable desire to be with her forever surged through him. It wasn’t only her exquisite face or her sexy body that had drawn him to her. It was her incredible spirit and way of confronting life. It was her hope for a better life in spite of all she-and he-had suffered.

Sophia is not my second chance. She is my heavenly gift.

After a few minutes, she kissed his chest, rose from the bed, and walked to the glass doors, stretching, entwining her arms above her head, “Mmm. It’s a beautiful day.” She turned to him, with a satisfied smile on her lips. “I’m hungry. Can you call for our breakfast, please? With coffee. Espresso, of course.”

Life suddenly had possibilities as new and bright as the sun shining outside. He sighed happily, picked up the phone from the bedside table, and asked for the delivery of their breakfast.

Alistair watched her young face as she raised it toward the gentle winter sun and made a firm decision in that moment. She, I will trust.

Epilogue

London.

Monday, March 15th, 2010.

Some minutes after midnight.

Kensington Palace Gardens.

She sighed contently as she fluffed her mountain of goose feather pillows and spread the comforter, readying the bed for the night. She chose her sleep list on her iPhone and soothing sounds started to play. She flung herself on her bed, a wide grin on her face, and buried her nose in the pillows. His smell lingered on them.

She felt young and loved again.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her happy thoughts. She donned her silk wrap and opened it to stare at the lovely face of her little daughter.

“What are you doing awake, my angel?” she whispered and crouched on her haunches, bringing the child into the circle of her arms.

“I had a strange dream. I dreamt you were getting married again.” The girl paused and glanced at her mother, a tender and anxious expression on her face that the mother decided not to interpret. “Are you, Mama? Are you going to marry again?”

A strangled sound emerged from the back of her throat. Then she answered, in a murmur, “No, my love. Mama is not thinking about marrying again. I was married to your father and very happy. Marriage is-” She paused unsure of what to say next. What does she want to hear?

“I thought you had found a new boyfriend and that you liked him,” the girl said in a small voice, almost pouting.

“A new-” She inhaled sharply at the child’s matter-of-factness. “I do like him,” she agreed and held her breath waiting for the girl to continue. Oh, God. What now?

“I like him, too.” A beautiful and happy grin spread over the child’s face. “I like him a lot. Marry him, Mama.”

The woman rose from the floor with the girl in her arms. “Let’s sleep,” she breathed and crossed the TV room, entering the little girl’s bedroom.

“Sing for me, Mama?” The question chilled the mother as she tugged the pale pink comforter around her child’s little body.

“Not tonight, love. Mama hurt her voice,” she looked away from her daughter’s intelligent blue eyes.

Tiny fingers touched her bruised neck. “How?”

How? How? The woman shrieked inside her head. How, you idiot?

“How, Mama?” the child insisted. “Did you fall?”

“Yeah. I tripped on a root and-” she interrupted herself, frowning, “and hurt my neck on a branch when I fell.” God, only a three-year-old kid would believe that.

“Then stay with me for a little bit?”

“Yes, my angel, for as long as you wish,” she answered and got under the covers, threading her fingers in the girl’s pale blonde hair. “Sleep,” she ordered softly, “tomorrow I’ll sing for you.”

Palace Gardens Terrace.

Seated in his large armchair in the living room, a glass of whisky in his hand, his thoughts completely absorbed him. His mood was broody and reflective. But not dark.

The changes in him were noticeable and he knew that she was the one responsible for them. Her youth and happiness were contagious. It brought out the light in him.

But he still feared scaring her away with the deep ugliness still inside him.

He took a big gulp of whisky, resenting himself, and banged the glass on the side table. The familiar rage he felt for so many women had vanished and now his anger was directed at himself. The black-and-blue marks on her body shimmered in his mind.

She didn’t deserve the harsh treatment I inflicted on her.

“Fuck!”

He stood and wandered into his dressing room sliding open a door on the left of the entrance. He perused the contents with mixed feelings and raked his long fingers through his bangs.

Would she like it? Would she debauch herself as I did for that fucking whore?

He closed the door with a sharp movement and it emitted a loud bang.

He shut his eyes, remembering what he had done to so many women and what one in particular had done to him.

No.

Not with her.

Not. With. Her.

She is different.

And I don’t need to live that life anymore.

He strolled back to the living room and flung himself in the plush armchair.

So, why don’t I throw everything in the bin and stop thinking about using them on her? After yesterday, I should know better.

It’s time to bury the ugly ghost.

It’s time to start fresh.

It’s time for love.

And then another thought struck him hard, chilling him. She wants at least another child.

He closed his eyes, disheartened.

I will have to tell her the whole story. He sighed and felt grief settle over his soul.

Park Lane.

He stood in front of his bookshelf, holding a glass of port in his hand. Still as a statue for a long time, he studied the striking couple smiling in the photograph framed in silver.

A sharp emotion sliced his heart and he drank his wine in a gulp, putting the glass carefully on the side table next to the sofa.

She was perfect for me.

Why did she leave me?

Why did I let her go?

He stepped uncertainly toward the bedroom, where a stunning brunette slept. He halted.

How can two women look so much alike and yet be so different?

His azure gaze swung back to the photo, a fierce longing piercing his body, almost causing him curl in pain.

And a weird look came over his handsome features. Rage, pain, and love. All mixed together.

Why is it that the women I love don’t love me back?

Why do I have to live with these ghosts in my life?

It’s my mother’s fault. That bitch.

He picked up his phone and speed-dialed a number.

“Sir?”

“Is she home?”

“Yes, sir. The lights went out a few moments ago.”

He remained unsure if he should assuage his curiosity or not. He shoved a hand in his brown, sun-kissed hair and mustered his courage. “Is she alone?”

A few moments of silence ensued as if the man on the other side was determined not to answer again.

“Is she?”

“Yes, sir. But she arrived at home accompanied by him. And they spent the whole weekend together.”

A fierce rage took control of him and he hissed between clenched teeth, “Double the vigilance, and keep me informed. I want to know about every step she takes.”

“Yes, sir.”

He switched off the phone and stalked up to the woman on the bed, shaking her.

She pushed her black-dyed hair from her face and her eyes with yellow contact lenses blinked at him, “Yes?”

“Go sleep in the guest room. I’m going to have a shower. I don’t want to see you when I come back.”

He turned without a second glance and entered his bathroom banging the door.

I need her.

No one else will do.

Only her.

About the Author

I live in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, with my husband and two daughters. I’m a lawyer and have always loved to read and write. After twenty years of practicing law, I decided to give writing a go.

I didn’t expect to published this book, but as time went by and the story grew, my oldest daughter persuaded me to do it, since she thought the story was ‘a-ma-zing’ - her words, not mine.

This book is a work of fiction and the characters, and dialogues, places and incidents involving them are drawn from my imagination or are used fictitiously. Wherever I’ve used real locations, I’ve tried to keep all the details and descriptions as real as possible.

Call me insane if you will, but even the weather, sunrise and sunset times are researched and, hopefully, accurate. But I have to confess that there wasn’t a red flag for snowstorm on October 15th, 2009. I made that part up.

And as confessions go, I also need to tell you that Sophia, Gabriela and I share a few things. Apart from being able to read when I was three and starting my first University course - Fine Arts - when I was fifteen years old, I also share Sophia’s interest in preventing sexual abuse and violence against children and women. My thesis at Law School was on this subject, twenty-two years ago.

I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I loved writing it.

Add me on Facebook: Cristiane Allevato Serruya

Follow me on Twitter: @crisserruya

Pinterest: CrisSerruya

All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without the express written permission of the author.

Cover by Renata Fontanive © copyright 2012.

Illustration by Sergio Allevato © copyright 2012.

Content

Trust: A New Beginning
Trust - 1
by
Cristiane Serruya

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

About the Author