Trust: Betrayed

Trust - 2

By

Cristiane Serruya

To my dear youngest daughter, Giovanna, who brightens my days with her happiness, her laughter and her unending capacity of making light and fun of everything.

Thanks, baby. For being you!

Prologue

England, London.

Tuesday, April 6th, 2010.

The City, Fleet Street.

3.28 a.m.

The sound of paper being crumpled ripped through the silence in the office.

Reaching for the drawer, long and slender fingers pulled out another cream sheet with her name elegantly printed in navy at the top of the page. The fountain pen ran smoothly over the surface.

April 6th, 2010.

My Dear,

Our relationship is doomed. I can’t carry on with it. My heart is bleeding but I have to ask you to forget me.

I’m sorry. More than you can imagine but I know that, in the end, it’s going to destroy me. You are

The pen stopped midair and the woman thinned her lips. She crushed the sheet in her hand and threw it with rage in the already full wastepaper basket.

She wiped her tear stricken face with the back of her hands, pulled out another sheet and started again.

After five more tries, she grimaced and considered herself satisfied with what she would describe nonetheless as a pathetic result. But she hadn’t any more strength in her soul to start again.

She’d never felt so ancient in her whole life.

Jaded.

Broken.

Fresh tears spilled on her purple T-shirt as she looked at the photos beside her computer. It’s a fitting punishment for what I did.

Park Lane.

4.50 a.m.

His mobile rang in the silent room. Once. Twice.

“Hello?” he answered on the third ring.

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but there is a situation.”

The man instantly pushed his fit and muscular body up, resting his broad back on the headboard.

“Tell me,” he said, alert.

“Something strange is going on. My contact just called, informing me she left her house after returning for just ten minutes.”

“Alone?”

“No. I guess her daughter was with her because she wasn’t in the McLaren. They left in the Jaguar, but I don’t know if she was driving or not. Sir, I’ve checked her last calls and she booked a private jet. It’s supposed to leave from Heathrow in an hour and a half.”

“Heathrow?” He flung his body out of the bed in an agile movement and went to his dressing room. “Where is she going?”

“Rio de Janeiro.”

He frowned as he picked up his carry-on and started filling it with clothes for warm weather. “Any problems with her family?”

“I don’t believe so, sir. I’d say that it’s a matter involving her.”

“Cancel her flight. I’m heading to Heathrow. Inform my driver that I’m going down in a few minutes.” He closed his suitcase with finality. “Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Did she call him?” He unlocked his safe and retrieved his passport and some money.

“No, sir.” There was a pregnant pause on the other side of the line. “Sir, if I may...”

“Shoot,” he walked into the bathroom with a white linen shirt, black briefs and a pair of dark blue jeans in his hand.

“I’d say they’ve had a fight.”

A dark smile spread over the rugged face and azure eyes flashed. “His loss. Keep an eye on her and brief me again in fifteen minutes.”

“Of course, sir.”

The City, Victoria Embankment.

10.17 a.m.

“How may I help you?” His deep voice sounded tired and despondent even to himself.

“What have you done to her?” asked the angry male voice on the phone.

What? “I...” he halted, and looked astonished at his brother, who raised an eyebrow. He put the call on speaker. “I’ve done nothing. Where is she?”

“She is gone. Nobody knows where she is. She left you a letter,” a heavy breath was exhaled.

“She is... gone,” he repeated in a murmur, frowning. Gone... Where? Why?

“Her memory’s back. She remembered the night she was shot. She may be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder,” his brother whispered to him and he repeated the information.

The man on the other side of the line shook his head and a blond lock fell over his forehead. He pushed it back in a brusque gesture. “You bastard,” he growled. “You’re the reason she’s disappeared.”

“I don’t get it.” He raked his fingers in his long, raven hair. “What have I got to do with it?” He was stupefied; the only thought that made sense was that she was gone.

The man didn’t answer his question. He was too enraged to pay attention to whatever was asked of him. His blue eyes were blistering. “She is so naïve. She went online and did a thorough search of porn videos and of disgusting sites without turning on the private browsing. I’m utterly shocked and that’s saying something. There are few things about sex that would shock me. I can’t even start to imagine what she is feeling.”

“Shocked? What was she looking at?”

“You don’t fool me. I’m expecting you here in ten minutes max and you’d better have a good explanation for all this. Or else, I’ll report you to the police. In case you don’t know, these kinds of sexual preferences are considered a crime.”

Fuck. “Now. Wait just a minute.” His nostrils flared. As did his temper. “Stay out of this. You have no right to interfere in our relationship. We are adults and it was consensual-”

His brother rose from his place and put a hand on his shoulder trying to calm him down.

“It’s still a crime. There is no such thing as consent in these cases. Ten minutes. And just to inform you, I opened the letter.”

“Violation of correspondence is a crime.”

“I don’t give a fuck. She’s gone and you’re responsible.” The blond man banged the handset in its cradle, hanging up.

“She is gone,” he whispered again, heartbroken and shoved his elegant fingers in his long hair, resting his forehead on the palms of his hands for a second before he sprung from the chair, “let’s go.”

As they waited by the elevator, his brother murmured, “You must have really fucked up this time. She doesn’t seem the type to flee from a battle.”

He looked at the taller man who looked so much like him and voiced his worst fear, “How am I supposed to live without her?”

Chapter 1

London, The City, Victoria Embankment.

The City of London Bank Headquarters.

Monday, March 15th, 2010.

9.08 a.m.

“Alistair Connor!” Tavish snapped his fingers in front of his brother’s face. “Wake up, dammit.”

Alistair looked at his younger brother and blinked away the thoughts of Sophia’s naked body. “I’m awake, can’t you see?”

“Then,” he smirked, “should we call them in or not?”

Alistair rubbed a hand on his nape and looked sheepishly at Tavish, “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got it bad, man.” A broad smile split Tavish’s rugged face and he even chuckled. “I never thought I’d see the mighty Alistair Connor daydreaming.”

“I’m not the mighty Alistair Connor. And I wasn’t daydream-” he interrupted himself and smiled, “Okay, I was. She’s everything a man could wish for, Tavish Uilleam.” And his grin turned almost idiotic with happiness.

“Have you told her about Heather?”

Alistair’s smile waned. “Fuck. You had to spoil it, Tavish Uilleam.”

“You’ve told her about your preferences?”

“She is too innocent and-” Alistair sighed. “The truth is I’m afraid of scaring her away.”

“She has the right to know, Alistair Connor. Or is she worth a change?”

“She’s worth everything. Anything.” He looked toward the huge windows of his office, his gaze distant. But I hurt her. I can never apologize enough.

“But?” Tavish tilted his head, studying Alistair’s face. “Alistair Connor, I really think you should see a therapist. If she’s half what Alice told me...” He looked his brother in the eye, “she won’t abide your sexual orientation.”

“Have you been talking about Sophia behind my back?” Alistair’s face darkened. “What is your interest in her?”

He sustained the dark stare. “None. My interest rests on you. And our family. I won’t see another Heather-”

Alistair banged his fist on the table startling his brother. “Sophia is nothing like Heather.”

“Okay, okay,” Tavish put his hands up, “I know that now.” He raised from his chair and put both hands on the desk, leaning toward his brother, “But do you? Are you ready to be in a relationship with her? A real, normal relationship? Is she strong enough to avoid turning into another Heather? Or are you going to degrade her like Heather did with you?”

London, The City, Fleet Street.

Leibowitz Oil Building.

9.16 a.m.

Sophia tried in vain to stifle a yawn and giggled, as Edward watched her with keen eyes from the armchair opposite her desk.

His blue eyes twinkled and he grinned wickedly at her. “Not enough sleep?”

“Nope.” Her voice was still a bit hoarse and she fingered the Hermès printed silk scarf she had put around her neck.

“I take it the CEO of The City of London Bank knows his job well?”

Sophia just smiled and blinked trying to fight the sleepiness that was taking hold of her.

“I told you, Sophia, third one’s the charm.”

She yawned again and Edward’s grin broadened. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“I need caffeine.” She rose from her chair and stretched, looking at him with a naughty expression on her face. “Do you want one?”

“Yeah, please.”

She made a couple of coffees with her Nespresso machine and handed one to Edward. “Well. I can say I didn’t sleep much,” she picked up her coffee and sat back on her chair. The memory of them making love over the weekend surfaced. “Only a few hours last night. This morning I skipped the gym, had to drag myself to the shower and three coffees haven’t helped. I’m still sleepy.”

“Come on, Sophia. The full report.”

“Edward!”

“You spent the whole weekend with him?”

She turned on her iMac and glanced away from him, blushing, “I did.”

“That good, huh?”

You can’t imagine. “Nope. Better,” she winked and focused on the contract on her computer screen. “So-”

“How do you rate him?”

Off the charts. She refused to glance at him, biting her lip to stop her joyful smile from appearing.

He shoved a hand in his blond hair, pushing it back from his forehead and settled down more comfortably in the armchair, “I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me all about it.”

That made her turn her head and stare at him amused. Edward’s smile was impossibly wide and mischievous. He looked like a boy waiting for his favorite story.

“Fine. I would give him... a ten,” she grinned, “maybe eleven. But I’d never tell him. He’s already too conceited. He’d probably laugh, just like he laughed at me the whole weekend.” Or probably not. He would be angry if he knew I was gossiping with Edward about his sexual prowess. Him and his mercurial moods.

“Aaand?”

Her eyes twinkled and she whispered, “He is a... devil in bed.”

“One of my kind.” Edward wiggled his eyebrows.

“Edward! I wouldn’t have thought you were so vain.” She creased her brow in thought. “No. I’m wrong. He’s not a devil. He’s an angel.” An angel? Alistair Connor? No. Never.

“He can’t be too angelic if he put that naughty look on your face.”

“Not angelic, no. A fallen angel,” she finished, smiling. “Anyhow, an angel. He took me to heaven, maybe surreptitiously, quite a few times during the weekend,” she giggled and Edward laughed with her.

The intercom buzzed and Sophia pressed the button with a big smile on her face. “Yes?”

“Mrs. L., Dr. Walter is on your private line. May I transfer him?”

“Dr. Walter? Dr. John Walter?”

“Yes, Mrs. L.,” Sarah confirmed.

“Transfer him, please, Sarah,” Sophia picked up the handset and rose from her chair, walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looking absentmindedly at the beautiful view of the River Thames.

“Hello? Sophia?” John Walter’s quiet voice reached her.

“Hi, John. How are you? How are Claire and the children?”

“Everyone’s fine, my dear. You and Gabriela?”

“We’re fine. Thanks. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Sophia, I... My secretary received a call earlier from Alistair MacCraig asking for an appointment today at six. For both of you. Together.”

Oh, damn. “Ah... Yes.” Please, say you can’t fit us in. Please. Please!

“I have a C-section scheduled at five, so I can’t fit you in. I’m sorry.”

She sighed, relieved. “If it won’t work today, don’t worry about it. It’s not an emergency.”

Sophia heard him speaking with someone and the clicking sound of a keyboard. “I wanted to check with you first before confirming the appointment. I found it... unusual, since you always come alone. And quite frankly this is the first time... I’ve had this kind of request from... the boyfriend. Hmm, let’s see... This week is quite full. I can fit you in either today or tomorrow, but only at twelve-thirty. I don’t have any other times for the rest of the week. Or it could be next week.”

“Let me check with Alistair and I’ll call your secretary back, John. But don’t worry. It’s nothing important. Err... Thanks for your call. Send Claire and the kids a kiss. Take care.” She hung up and remained there looking at the phone in her hand. “Damn!” She stomped her right foot on the carpet floor.

“Something wrong?” Edward was observing her with a strange look on his face. Sophia never stomped her feet unless she was really irritated.

“Everything,” she muttered under her breath, “everything.” Still by the window, she called her secretary. “Sarah, could you please get Mr. Alistair MacCraig on the line?” She switched off and turned to Edward. “Why am I always involved with bossy men?”

“Because you are bossy too? Gabriel was too spellbound by your charms to put you on a leash. You were the only one who ordered him around.” He smiled at her, “You found someone who seems to know how to deal with you. If he weren’t firm and ignored your whims, you’d be bossing him around.”

Me? Bossing Alistair Connor MacCraig around? You have no idea, Mr. CEO. “Et tu, Brutus?” she snorted, trying to maintain an impassive face but failing miserably. She couldn’t get angry when Edward was near.

“Even I, Imperatrix,” he teased.

Her mouth split in a big grin, “Imperatrix?”

“Or should I say dominatrix?” He wiggled his brows at her. “But then, a dominatrix wouldn’t fit with MacCraig.”

Sophia scrunched her face at him, “Dominatrix? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Mmm, nothing, Sophia. Nothing.” She was so sophisticated and mature for her age that sometimes Edward forgot how innocent she was in sexual matters.

“Come on, Edward.” She tilted her head to the side, “Explain yourself-” The intercom buzzed. “Transfer him, Sarah, please,” she said, leaving no time for her secretary to say anything. She marched to the bathroom raising her index finger and mouthing to Edward, “One minute.”

She closed the door and vented her anger on the phone, in a low voice, “Are you crazy, Alistair Connor? I told you I was clean and on birth control. What’s the hurry? Couldn’t you have called me first? John wants to see us at midday today. What is he going to think about you? About me? Dammit, Alistair Connor. Dammit.”

“I don’t know who John is or what he’s going to think about you or Alistair Connor. And I don’t care,” a deep masculine and amused voice answered her, chuckling. “How are you, Sophia?”

Not Alistair.

I just told a man I’m clean and on birth control. Oh, ground, please, swallow me.

“It is Sophia, isn’t it?” Tavish insisted, as delighted as he’d been in ages by her outburst and the amusing way she had scolded his brother.

“Who is?” she stammered, incapable of forming a coherent thought.

“Seems you’ve got the wrong MacCraig, Sophia,” he paused, waiting for her to say something.

Damn! Lieutenant-Colonel-Doctor-Lord-Arrogance. “My lord Tavish Uilleam?”

“Aye. How are you, Sophia?”

What now, Sophia? Breathe, breathe.

“Still there, Sophia?”

“I... Yes, I’m still here.”

“How are you?” Tavish’s smile was impossibly broad. He had been laughing and smiling much more since he discovered Sophia was not another Heather and was keeping Alistair at arm’s-length, on the verge of madness.

“I’m fine, thank you. And you, my lord?” she whispered, mortified. “Could you put your brother on, please? I’m sorry my secretary made the mistake of asking for you.”

“I’m fine, thanks, Sophia.” She heard when he breathed deeply. “It wasn’t your secretary’s mistake. I intercepted the call. I want to talk to you. Could you meet me for lunch?”

“Alone?” What are you intending, my lord?

“Alone,” he confirmed in a now stern tone. “Also, I’d ask you not to tell Alistair Connor about this.”

“My lord-”

“Please, Sophia, call me Tavish Uilleam. I’m sorry, I got the wrong idea, but when my father told me you were Alistair’s girlfriend I-”

“Tavish Uilleam.” She cut him. Are you trying to warn me against Alistair too? “I have no reason to go out with you, alone. I don’t have a habit of lying and I’m not going to start just yet. What do you want to talk with me?”

“Not on the phone. A tea, maybe?”

“Only if your brother joins us.”

“No, not with Alistair. And if Alice comes along?”

“What is so secret that Alistair can’t hear? I find this request extremely unusual.”

“Please, Sophia,” he insisted. “Lunch or tea. With Alice. You can set the date with her. I’m going to transfer the call to Alistair Connor.” Tavish was about to transfer the call, but his hand hovered for a second over the button and he returned to the phone. “Sophia, I’ll be waiting for your confirmation. Soon. Hold on, please.”

Which brother is more commanding? She asked her image in the mirror.

“Sophia, sweetheart, good morning. Did you sleep well? Did you have... good dreams?”

Alistair’s deep voice, full of sensual innuendo, reached deep down in Sophia’s belly, making her forget all she was supposed to say to him, as desire took control of her body and mind.

“Mmm, ah...” she moaned. And whispered, throaty, “Hi.” She heard him chuckling on the other side of the line. Goddamnit, Sophia. Mmm, ah... Hi? Is this an intelligent or even coherent phrase? She pulled herself together and reprimanded him, “Alistair Connor. I’m not used to having men command my schedule.”

Alistair chuckled again, “I do hope so, love. But, pray tell me, who’s been ordering you around?”

“You.”

“Me?” His voice sounded genuinely surprised. “As if I could.”

“You tried to schedule an appointment with Dr. John Walter.”

“I didn’t try. I did it.” His voice had a dry tone. “I made an appointment for us. We talked about it.”

Sophia huffed, “Alistair, we talked about it, yes. But that was before my neck and thighs were covered with black-and-blue finger marks.”

He had no answer. A silence ensued on the line.

“Alistair?”

“I’m still here. And I’m listening. Go on,” he said in an even drier voice.

Oh, damn. Damn. “I didn’t mean-”

“Oh, no! You meant it. The thing is, Sophia, I don’t care if you are covered with pockmarks or bruises. You want to continue with our relationship, don’t you? So, we’re going to that appointment. Together. I’m sure John can handle a few black-and-blue marks.” The line at his end beeped. “Hold on for a second, please.”

Alistair didn’t wait for her answer and pressed down the button for the intercom, “Yes, MacKeenan? Quickly, please.”

“Mr. MacCraig, you asked me to confirm Dr. Walter’s appointment.”

“Aye. And?”

“Well, I just called and his secretary informed me that Dr. Walter won’t be able to see you at six, but he left a twelve-thirty appointment open for you and Mrs. Leibowitz. It’s his only available time. Today or tomorrow.”

“Confirm it for today, please. And inform Garrick I’ll be leaving at a quarter to eleven. Also, please, call Mary at Cartier. I want the matching ring for the Love bracelet I bought. And call Mr. Arkade about the Van Clef clip I had put aside last week. Send fresh white roses to Mrs. Leibowitz’s office and house. Make it a hundred... No, two hundred. A hundred each. And ask for orange blossoms to be put among the roses. Ah, and MacKeenan, please, find a doll called Corolle. See if it needs batteries and if there are accessories available. Buy them all and send them to Miss Gabriela Leibowitz. I have all the cards ready. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m finished with this call so you can come get them.”

“Sir? Does Mary know Mrs. Leibowitz’s ring size?”

“Good question. She has long and elegant fingers... Ask for one size sixteen and one size seventeen. It’s probably one of them. Did you get all that, MacKeenan?”

“Yes, sir. Consider it done.”

“Thanks.” Alistair pushed down the button for Sophia’s call. “Sophia?”

“Yes, I’m still waiting, sire.”

Alistair smiled, he could almost see her bowing mockingly. Then he frowned at her petulant tone. Fuck, here I go again. “I’m sorry, Sophia. It was MacKeenan confirming our appointment with John. At mid-”

“Alistair Connor!” Sophia was aggravated. “Weren’t you listening to what I just told you?”

“Weren’t you listening to what I just told you?” he repeated her words, turning the question on her. When is she going to start complying with my wishes?

Oh, my God! What did I do to deserve this domineering man? She rolled her eyes heavenward.

“Sophia?”

“Yes, my lord?” she taunted.

Keep mocking. “I’ll be waiting for you downstairs, at eleven fifteen sharp. Don’t be late,” he hung up, with a wry smile on his face. Get used to obeying, Sophia!

Sophia’s mouth dropped open when she realized he had just hung up on her. Oh, no, Alistair Connor. You didn’t just do that. She yanked the door open and stormed into the office, saying out loud, “You’re so screwed, soooo screwed.”

Edward startled and looked up from the papers on his lap, “Who? Me?”

“Oh.” She halted mid-stride. She had forgotten Edward was waiting for her. “Oh, no, Edward. Of course, not you.” She looked at the blond man in front of her but saw a dark-haired green-eyed face instead. A slow dark grin appeared on her face.

“What did I do to deserve that awful smile?” He cocked his head and observed as she walked lithely to her leather chair without answering. “Sophia, you’re growing horns and a pointed tail. I’m almost afraid. What just happened?”

“Horns and a pointed tail?” she asked, absentminded.

“Yeah, you’re just missing goat hooves and the trident. You have that devilish look that scares the hell out of me. What’s happening?” he insisted.

“Nothing.” She bared her teeth at him in a rictus. “Yet.” She singled out her iPhone from her Cartier bag and put it on vibrator mode and rested it against her iMac where she could easily see the screen.

Then she touched the intercom, deliberately slowly. “Sarah, dear,” Sophia’s voice was sugar-coated, “I’ll only receive Gabriela’s calls from now on. Please, don’t transfer any others. And inform reception that if Mr. MacCraig comes here in person, he should be held downstairs for at least five minutes - no, make it ten - before being allowed to come up.” She turned her chair, facing her computer and selected her personal email account.

To: Handsome (alistairconnor@maccraig.co.uk)

Subject: Dr. Walter’s appointment

From: Sophia Santo (sophia@santo.co.uk)

To the Marquis of I’m-so-powerful-and-I-give-the-orders-amen!

Dear Sire,

I’m not going.

Have a good day.

Your humble servant,

S.

She bit her lip for a second before clicking on the ‘send’ button. She dusted off her hands and blinked innocently at Edward, “Where were we?”

His blue eyes were twinkling and he chortled, “Poor, poor MacCraig.”

She just smiled back at him and turned to the contract on her computer and started discussing it.

10.25 a.m.

The intercom buzzed and Sophia answered it, “Yes, Sarah?”

“Mr. MacCraig sent... Ah... Some flowers for you, Mrs. L.. Shall I bring them in?”

“Sure, Sarah. I’ll open the door for you,” Sophia touched the remote on her iPhone and unlocked her door.

Edward smiled at Sophia, “How many e-mails and WhatsApp messages till now?”

“Just one e-mail and no messages,” she shrugged, disappointed. He was supposed to go nuts. What’s happening?

“Aren’t you curious, Sophia? Come on. Open it.”

“I’m not curious. No.” Liar.

“Liar,” he shot at her.

She flicked her eyes to her iMac and back to Edward, who smiled smugly at her. Control yourself, Sophia. Turning back to look at the contract, she asked, “Shall we continue?”

“What’s taking Sarah so long?” Sophia murmured. “She knows I don’t like to leave my door unlocked.”

“Calm down, love. No need for panic,” Edward soothed, looking concerned at her. “You’re in a secure building with 24/7 surveillance and Steven and Zareb are just out-” He looked away from her face at the opening door, where short, thin Sarah was opening the door to a stern Steven and a smiling Zareb. Both men were carrying the biggest crystal vase with long stemmed white roses mixed with orange blossoms and eucalyptus Sophia had ever seen. Edward thinned his lips in a futile attempt to stop his laughter, but had to let go as he looked at Sophia’s astonished face.

“Has he bought all the white roses in London?” she asked Edward who just shrugged.

Her iPhone chose that moment to vibrate and her home number appeared on the screen.

“Yes?”

“Mama, Mama!” Gabriela’s excited shouts reached Edward as Sophia kept the phone away from her ear, blinking.

“Yes, my angel?”

“Co-ro-lle! Co-ro-lle!” Gabriela sang. “Just like he promised. She’s so lovely, Mama. And he sent a card for me and a hundred million flowers, Mama. But I didn’t understand all the words. His handwriting is a little bit confusing, but it’s beautiful just like him.”

Sophia looked at Edward, amused.

He just laughed, “Poor, poor Sophia. Now, what?”

“Mama, Mama, can I take Corolle out of the box?”

Sophia shook her head, stunned. “Yes, my love, you can. Why don’t you call Alistair and thank him for your doll?”

“I will. Can I ask him to have dinner with us tonight? Can I, Mama?”

Sophia sighed as she followed Sarah’s movements around the room arranging the huge vase, “Yes, angel, you can.”

“And can I chose the food with Aisha? And can we have chocolate cake with ice cream for dessert? Can we use the dining room?” The little girl’s happiness was contagious.

“Yes, my dear. Just ask Lucy to call me afterwards, okay?”

“Thank you, Mama, thank you. Are you going to arrive earlier to play with Corolle and me?”

“I can’t. But I’ll be there at five. And we can read Alistair’s card together.”

“Okay, Mama. I love you.”

“I love you, too, my angel.” Sophia hung up and, unbidden, her lips slit open in a delighted smile.

“You’re sooo doomed, Sophia,” Edward chuckled. “I forgot who commands you. A tiny, blonde girl of almost four. And he knows it, too.”

She made a face at him and he shook a cream and dark-green card at her.

“This is for Mrs. Leibowitz. Shall we read it?”

“Aren’t we curious today, Mr. CEO?”

Edward just smiled, taking his time teasing Sophia.

London, March 15th, 2010.

My dear Sophia,

I’ve never been so happy and you’re the reason for it. You have brought light back into my life.

I want to give you as much joy as you have given me these past months. And I’ll endeavor to accomplish this. I promise.

I was wrong when I said you were a sight to behold. You are much more. You are one of those special people who grace the Earth once in a while and having the pleasure of knowing you is incomparable. I don’t want to behold you, I want to hold you in my arms. Forever.

I can’t wait to see you again. To love you again.

Yours,

Alistair Connor.

“Sophia, you lucky girl. This is practically a proposal. ‘I want to hold you in my arms. Forever.’ So romantic.” He shook his head, smiling, “You should call-”

“No,” she interrupted him.

“No? Have you gone crazy?”

“I’m just setting boundaries. He’s too... sure of himself. He likes to give orders and if he thinks I’m going to do whatever he wants, he’s wrong. It’ll teach him to treat me like a partner, not like an employee. Let him suffer a bit.” She smiled at him, “In the end, as everything in life, a relationship is about power. I will only cede, if he does too.” She wiggled her brows at him. “As things are, Edward, I have to give you some lessons. I’m unbeatable against these kinds of men.”

“Yeah, it seems so,” he mused, bobbing his head and looking around at the flowers. “So many roses. I’ve never seen anything like it. And more at your house. Impressive.”

Her iPhone vibrated with a message from Alistair. She ignored the itch to grab the mobile and see what he had just texted her.

“So, what do you think of the contract?”

“It’s unbelievably favorable to us...” he paused and looked down at the paper in his hand and frowned. “How did Williams manage to fulfill all their environmental requirements?”

The mobile vibrated again and again and again. Sophia didn’t even glance at it as she discussed the new contract she was analyzing with Edward. “Do you-?” The intercom buzzed interrupting her and she pressed down the button, “Yes, Sarah?”

“Mrs. L., I’m sorry to disturb you, but are you sure we have to keep Mr. MacCraig waiting for ten minutes in the lobby?” Sarah’s voice was worried. “Kathleen has just informed me he’s been pacing with furious strides.”

“Hmm, how long he has been waiting?”

“Five minutes, ma’am.”

Sophia’s face split in a naughty grin and she looked at Edward, wiggling her brows and asked him, “So, what do you think?”

“Well, Imperatrix, it’s your call. I’d say he’s not a man to be trifled with.” Edward tilted his head to the side and a blond lock fell over his forehead.

“Send him up, Sarah, but keep him in my reception room. Tell him I’m busy and you can’t interrupt the meeting.” Sophia released the intercom and jumped from her chair, running to her bathroom.

“Edward, do you know what your problem is? Why your partners dump you so easily?” she asked as she sprayed Sublime Vanille in her long ink-black hair and brushed it.

“No, please tell me, what’s my problem?” Edward leaned on the doorjamb watching as Sophia put some mascara on her lashes and transparent gloss on her dark-red lips.

“You don’t keep things in the dark. You open up to easily. You tell them your secrets. Secrets aren’t supposed to be told.”

“And you, on the other hand, since Gabriel, have cloistered yourself and kept everyone out, afraid of loving again.” Edward immediately regretted his words as pain flickered in Sophia’s eyes and they filled with tears.

“It’s not true,” she whispered, the brush held in midair.

“It is and you know it. You are afraid. You’ve been hiding in this office since Gabriel died. You just work and work. You don’t go out. If not for Ethan Ashford’s insistence, your head would still be stuck in a hole in the ground.”

“I can’t afford to be found, Edward.”

“Who are you trying to fool, Sophia? Me? Yourself? Alberto has no proof, the Brazilian police won’t come after you without any evidence and the only missing criminal is probably still on the run, terrified of your wrath. You’re a young, lovely woman, with a big heart waiting to be filled again. You have to end this eternal mourning you’ve imposed on yourself.”

Sophia bent her head and bit her lip for a while, before whispering, “I went out with Ethan. I’m now with Alistair. I have moved on, Edward.”

“Maybe you’re starting to move on, my love. But to fully do it, you have to let the guilt go. Gabriel will always be an important part of your life. I don’t even want to imagine how difficult it is to move on, but a new love always helps. I can bet you will find it in MacCraig’s arms. He may be domineering and commanding, but everyone has flaws.” He pulled her out of the bathroom and directed her to the phone, “Call Sarah and ask her to let him in.” He curled his fingers under her chin to make her look at him, “Sophia, he’s not Gabriel.”

“I don’t care,” she shrugged. “If he’s not satisfied with me as I am, he can walk away.”

“So you say. You aren’t manipulative, Sophia. You’re trying to fool yourself because you are afraid of his intensity and of your feelings. Deep down here,” he lightly touched her heart with his index finger, “you like him, too.”

Sophia stared into Edward’s blue eyes and nodded, “I do. And I told him that it didn’t scare me. I lied,” she breathed. “I don’t want to risk losing everything again.”

“Therefore you decided to push away everyone that comes near your heart.”

She sighed, despondent, “Edward. I’m an ill-fated Midas. What I touch, doesn’t even turn to gold. It rots and dies.”

Edward’s blue eyes darkened, “That is the most idiotic thing that has ever left your lips.”

“Edward,” Sophia gripped his arms, her nails digging in the cloth of his suit, “I’ve killed-”

He shoved a hand over her mouth, “You did not! Stop saying that. It got out of control. I don’t need to remind you of that.”

“I should have imagined it was going to derail. You can’t negotiate with criminals. They died because of me, Edward.”

“It’s done. Forget it.”

“I can’t. I see their faces every night before I sleep. They haunt my dreams. I don’t know what I was thinking when I did it. I started a charitable institution. I’m a lawyer, for God’s sake. Revenge wouldn’t bring Gabriel back.”

“You’re doing what you can to redeem yourself. Their families are much better now than they were before. Their children go to good schools-”

“But... what about me, Edward?” Sophia’s beautiful eyes were shadowed by torment. “What about my conscience?”

Edward hugged her against his chest, “Sophia, love, only you can forgive yourself.”

Chapter 2

11.13 a.m.

“Don’t think about this anymore, Sophia. Promise me?”

“I’ll try,” she whispered.

Edward slowly released her from his arms and picked up the handset, touching Sarah’s intercom, “Sarah, inform Mr. MacCraig that Mrs. L.’s meeting has ended, please. I’m opening the door.” He went to the door and just before he opened it, he looked at her. “Don’t be afraid to love again, Sophia.”

Fuck. What’s taking so long? Alistair was on the other side of Sophia’s office door, scolding at it, as if his bad mood could open it. He stepped back to allow Edward to pass and stretched his hand, “Davidoff, good morning.”

“Good morning, MacCraig.” Edward gripped Alistair’s hand firmly in his and, looking into his green eyes, he lowered his voice, “She’s not ready for you. Go slow.”

The murmured words undid the deep frown on Alistair’s face and he stepped into the room in a lighter, but still displeased mood. As he took in the sea of roses, the result of his impulsive order, a ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

“Morning, Beauty,” he kissed her lightly on the lips and stepped away to look her over and licked his lips, his eyes flashing. “You rob me of my sanity, you know?”

“And you drive me to distraction, Alistair Connor. I’m not going.”

Fuck all difficult women. Alistair narrowed his eyes. “Sophia,” he warned. “I confirmed it with John’s secretary. We are going even if I have to carry you, caveman style, over my shoulder.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Alistair-”

“Sophia.”

She searched his taut, implacable face and crossed her arms over her chest. My God, he is serious. “I told you I don’t take well to orders, Lord Caveman.”

You’re too young and inexperienced to override my decisions with your whims; let’s change tactics. “Sweetheart, you scared me this weekend with your blackout.” That isn’t entirely a lie.

He pulled her to one of the navy suede sofas, making her sit down and gathering her hands in his. “I’m asking you to go with me to an appointment with John Walter so we can feel more comfortable around each other, when it comes to sex.”

“Just so you know I feel very comfortable with you in bed and my blackouts are normal. Maybe your other partners weren’t as relaxed, as good and as hot in bed as I am,” she smirked at him.

“You’re implying...” He raised his brows at her petulant tone.

Ha! She flipped her hair over her shoulders.

He pulled her to a hot kiss. “Sophia, Sophia. What you do to me. A simple flip of your endless black hair and,” he put her hand over his already semi-hard erection, “I already want to have you against the wall. Here. In your office. In the middle of the morning.”

“A good idea. I’ve never made love in my office.” She cocked her head to the side, staring into his eyes and whispered, “I’d love to test your strength again.”

He inhaled sharply at her answer, “Don’t challenge me, Beauty. I might do it.”

She gave him a smile and shook her head to break the spell. “You are trying to distract me. Back to the subject. No, you did not ask me to go to John’s. You decided it, made the appointment and informed me. You didn’t talk to me first.”

“You are partially right,” he conceded, “but only partially. We have talked about it, Sophia.”

“Talked?”

“Yes, I told you I was going to call John and set the appointment-” he interrupted himself as her brows shot up.

“Let me repeat what you just said. Quote, ‘I told you I was going to call John and set the appointment.’ Unquote. You informed me. There’s a big difference between a conversation and a notification.”

“Fine. I was trying to order you around. It’s...” His knuckles caressed her cheek, tenderly. Fuck my fears. She’s said enough times to trust her. “This is important to me, Sophia. It’s about the issues in my past. It will just be a quick talk. Please?”

“Just a talk?”

“Aye, sweetheart. Just a talk. I’ve informed John’s secretary we needed just a few minutes with him.”

Just a talk. So, no need to disrobe. John won’t see the marks. Sophia perused Alistair taking in his tailored navy suit and light-blue tie with tiny multicolored butterflies from Hermès. She gasped silently and immediately scooted back on the sofa. “I don’t take orders, but I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll go. But don’t turn this into precedent. Next time, you will ask me first. Nicely. And... that tie,” she pointed, “has to go. Now. Forever. I’ll buy you a new one on the way.”

He blinked at her swift change of mood and strange request, “You’ll go with me, but I need to change my tie? Why?” His fingers instantly started to undo the perfect Windsor knot.

“I have issues with butterflies and moths,” she shuddered.

“Don’t tell me you are disturbed by such tiny, pretty things,” he smiled at her.

“No. I’m not disturbed,” she shook her head. “I have an insane fear of those ugly, furred and treacherous things that are almost impossible to catch and kill.”

His smile broadened at hearing her idiosyncrasy. “Here.” The tie hung from between his fingers. “It’s yours. Throw it in the bin. Burn it. I don’t care.”

She moved away from it, holding up her hand. “Put it away, please. I’m not kidding.”

He folded his tie and shoved it in his suit pocket, noting her strange reaction. “I never met a person that was scared of butterflies like this.”

“When I was a kid...” she shivered and wrung her hands in her lap. “I developed a phobia. Suffice it to say that if there was a real butterfly in the room, you would see me out of my mind, screaming. It’s irrational.” She glanced at her Santos 100 Skeleton watch. “If we are buying you a new tie, we’d better go.”

“I need another minute. I brought something for you.” Alistair grabbed her in his arms and hauled her onto his lap and his hand took out a black box from his suit pocket. He flipped open the box and an exquisite clip depicting two love birds appeared inside.

“Oh. It’s magnificent,” she breathed as he showed it to her. Her fingers touched the male bird made of yellow gold and yellow sapphires, tracing its wing as it curved around the smaller female of white gold and pink sapphires. Her finger caressed the stunning heart-shaped ruby that formed the male’s belly. “It’s so... fierce, protective. It reminds me of you. It’s... I have no words, Alistair.” She gave him a kiss on the lips. “Thanks, Handsome.”

He put his thumb over her index finger that was positioned on the heart-shaped ruby and murmured to her, “I’m giving you my heart, Sophia. Take good care of it.”

He pinned the clip to her dress over her heart, as she bit her lip and looked down at her hands, a sudden anguish taking hold of her.

He gripped her chin and made her look at him, “What?”

“Too soon, isn’t it?”

“No,” he shook his head slowly, staring deep into her eyes. “I would say it’s too late.”

In a fluid movement, he took a red box from his pocket and opened it with a deft flick of his fingers.

She eyes him, quizzically, “Another gift?”

“Nae, I don’t know if this could be called a gift...” I’m branding you as mine. “It’s sort of a commitment ring,” he explained. He took out a large white gold Love ring with diamonds from the box and took her right hand.

Sophia immediately ripped it away from his grasp. “A commitment ring? On my right hand? What do you mean?” Too soon, Alistair Connor, too soon. Don’t destroy my diaphanous dreams. Let me live them for a little while.

He sighed and his head dipped toward hers, his lips brushing against hers as he said, “I want the world to know you’re mine, Sophia.”

“And are you going to wear one, too?” She jumped from his lap, holding her fisted right hand against her breast.

He jerked his head back to look at her and blinked at the fear that showed in her eyes, “Aye, if you want me to, I will.”

And now? Do I want him to wear an engagement ring too? Because this is an engagement, Sophia. Don’t let yourself be fooled. Do I want this kind of commitment? Do I want to see him killed, too? “You will...”

He nodded, “Aye, I will.” He immediately took his mobile from his inner pocket, searching for a contact and made a call, “Mary Weston, please. It’s Alistair Connor MacCraig. Thank you.” He wiggled his fingers beckoning Sophia to sit by his side as he waited. “Mary, how are you? I need a Love ring for men. For me. What do you suggest?” He gripped Sophia’s hand and pulled her onto his lap again, snaking an arm around her waist, keeping her firmly nestled on him. “Hmm. Hold on, please.” He turned to Sophia, “Do you want to choose it with me?”

Do I? DO I?

“Let’s go together,” he crooned, “I’ve chosen yours, you will chose mine. Is that okay with you?”

Oh, my God. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Mary, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Please, sort them for me. I’m in a hurry. Thanks. Take care.”

Sophia kept looking down at her hands.

“Happy, now?” He curled his fingers under her chin and made her look at him.

“That was not the problem. I just think this is a bit abrupt.”

“And to think I was the one afraid of loving.” He kissed her lips lightly. “You told me love didn’t scare you,” he murmured, almost sad.

Please, try to understand me. “I’m not afraid of loving you. Never,” she shook her head fiercely and her hair bounced around her. “But I’m scared to death.” She cupped his face in her cold hands and whispered, “Scared of losing everything again. I won’t survive another loss.”

Oh, Beauty. His heart squeezed in his chest and he drowned himself inside her honeyed eyes, so beautiful and honest. He put his big warm hands over hers and rested his forehead on hers and said firmly, “You won’t lose me, Sophia. You. Will. Not.”

“You can’t promise that, Alistair Connor,” she whispered. “Fate decides that, what we want, what we wish, it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, at least, I can promise you I’ll try my hardest so you don’t get rid of me, stubborn and commanding as I am.”

The tease brought out a small smile from Sophia, “Amen, my lord Marquis.”

“So... Can I put the ring on your finger?”

She blinked. She had forgotten about the ring. “Ah...”

“Sophia, I’m not proposing. It’s not an engagement ring. It’s, as I said, a commitment ring.”

“Like the slave bracelet?” she asked him, with a raised eyebrow.

How cunning, Sophia. “Aye, like the slave bracelet,” he stifled a smile as he fingered the shining bracelet just below her watch and closed his hand around it, the contrast of her lean thin wrist and his long broad fingers gentling his grip.

“Well, then,” she sighed, extending her fingers and surrendering to his beguiling ways. “It seems you like to stake your claim, Alistair Connor.”

He smiled then and murmured against her lips, “Aye, Sophia, I do.”

Kensington. Dr. John Walter’s Office.

12.27 p.m.

“So, what brings you two here?” said John, sitting on his chair behind his desk and opening Sophia’s file.

Alistair glanced at Sophia.

She bit her lip to stop her smile and shook her head at him. Let him explain it.

“Well, first of all, Sophia... Err... Sophia has a strange reaction at the conclusion of sex. I’ve never seen it happen before. And I fear that there’s something wrong-” Alistair paused, frowning as she giggled. “Well, she goes into a kind of stupor that can last five minutes or so. She has difficulty talking. And... she even fainted once. I almost called 999.”

Five?! Aren’t you dramatic? “I didn’t faint,” she said in an amused voice.

“You did.”

“I did not.”

“Well, did you or didn’t you, Sophia?” John leaned on his chair, his kind blue eyes studying Sophia’s grinning face.

“I... Maybe I did, but it was very quick.” Her smile broadened. “This is ridiculous. I didn’t really faint. It’s absolutely normal.”

Alistair’s brows creased, “Quick or not, real or not, it scared the hell out of me. She was unconscious.”

“But what happened? Can you describe it?” John asked Sophia. “Do you feel nausea? Dizziness? Numbness in your hands or feet?”

“Numbness?” she smiled. “No, never. It’s happened before, but I never feel anything unpleasant. On the contrary. Hmm, let’s say that it’s so...” Oh, my. How do I say this? “Ah... Hmm...” Her lips slitted again in a big grin, “I feel so good that it leaves me warm all over, floating, as if I were ethereal, and it takes me some time to come back down from cloud nine.”

“Floating... Ethereal, on cloud nine...” It was John’s turn to smile, as Alistair blinked at Sophia’s description. “Well, what can I say? Congratulations are in order, I think. To both of you. All men should take their companions to that state. And women would need to be profoundly connected with their partner in order to achieve it.”

“So there is nothing wrong with Sophia? No cardiovascular-”

Sophia exploded into laughter and put a hand over her mouth as Alistair scolded her, “I’m worried about you and you laugh at me?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, struggling to compose herself, putting a soothing hand over his. “I told you there was nothing wrong with me.”

“Sophia is a very healthy woman, Alistair. There isn’t anything wrong with her. Apart from her hypotension, she is my healthiest patient.”

“Hmm,” he ran two fingers over his square jaw, thoughtfully, and looked from John’s face to Sophia’s. “If you say so... Could this hypotension have caused her fainting?”

“Good question,” John mused, tapping his fingers on the desk. “Maybe. But I think it’s unlikely since she doesn’t have any other related symptom.”

“And how low is it?”

“Low. Ninety over fifty. But it seems normal for her, because she doesn’t feel the effects a person with so-called normal blood pressure would feel when it’s this low. So that’s how we have to look at it. It’s low, but to her, it’s normal. And I’d rather have a hypotensive patient than a hypertensive one. I’ve been her doctor since she arrived in London and she was here a month ago, for her regular check-up. There’s nothing wrong with her.”

“What is she using for contraception?” Now. Alistair Connor, you don’t need to know that. Ask if she is clean and how often she gets tested and be done with.

John watched as Sophia sighed and looked down at her hands, “Sophia?”

“John, I have nothing to hide,” she raised her head, a troubled and hurt look on her face and glanced at Alistair, who was watching her with hawk-like eyes. “I told him I’m clean and that I was using birth-control, but he needs reassurance from you. Go on, reassure him.”

“Sophia,” Alistair scolded her. “It’s not like that.”

Her eyes bore down on his, “Oh, yeah, it’s just like that. You’re distrustful. I, on the other hand, am not. Go on, ask away. I have no problem in opening up my life to you.” She whipped her head to look at John. “You have my permission to answer all his questions. Better,” she uncrossed her legs and raised from her armchair, “I’ll leave you two alone. That way, neither one of you will be made uncomfortable by my presence.”

As she turned and stepped away, Alistair jumped out of his armchair and grabbed her by the arms.

She halted mid-stride and without looking at him, asked “Yes?”

“Sophia, it’s not that I don’t believe in you.”

Stand your ground. She heard his wary tone but didn’t cede. “No?” She flicked her eyes at John’s impassive face and back to Alistair’s cautious one. “But then, this isn’t the time or the place to discuss it. Ask what you need to ask. I’ll be waiting outside. I just gave my permission to John to disclose anything you want to know.”

He snaked his arms around her, hauling her flush to his body, and squeezed her lightly, dropping his head to her cheek, murmuring softly, “Please, mo chridhe, stay. There’s no need to react like this.”

He was so big, warm and tender that Sophia felt as if he was blanketing her in pure love and she inhaled deep, struggling with her emotions. You also have issues, Sophia. If you want to invest in this relationship, you’ll have to deal with his doubts and problems. “I’m not used to having my word questioned,” she said for his ears only.

“Please?” he asked again.

This is not the place to make a scene, Sophia. You can talk about it later. She looked down at his hand. The light flashed on his brand new Love ring, which she had chosen. He is committing, Sophia. He’s trying. Do your share. She exhaled, “All right.”

Immediately, he released her and, as she sat back in her armchair, he gripped her hand in his.

“I’m sorry, John,” she apologized.

“Please,” he waved the whole incident away and looked at Alistair. “Sophia has an IUD with hormones. This means she can’t get pregnant. It’s ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent safe. It works by releasing hormones in the uterus to prevent sperm from reaching or fertilizing an egg, among other things. After some months, it suppresses ovulation. In Sophia’s case, her periods have stopped altogether.”

“No periods?” Alistair looked surprised at her.

“No,” she shook her head.

“And is this healthy?” He swung his gaze back at John.

“Perfectly safe. An IUD can be used for up to five years. Her current one is going to last until,” he put on his glasses and checked Sophia’s file on the computer, “November, 2011.”

Good. Next question. “And what about her last tests?” He heard her profound sigh.

John checked the screen again. “She was here on February twenty-sixth, just after... Ah...” He flickered his eyes at Sophia, who was looking down at her steepled fingers. “The accident at Galewick Hall, had her regular check-up and did all the tests. Blood, urine, ultrasound, STDs, HIV, everything. I’m quite careful about those and she is a very obedient patient. She is clean, like she told you. What else do you want to know?”

“I think that covers everything.” Alistair had the grace to look embarrassed. “Could you ask for the same tests for me so she-”

“There’s no need,” Sophia gently interrupted him.

He looked at her, “Sophia, you-”

“I believe you. That’s enough for me.” You have to learn how to believe in yourself too, Alistair.

Last time I did what a woman told me- Stop this, Alistair Connor. Stop. This. Try to listen to what she is telling you.

John watched, intrigued, the silent dueling of power and dominance between the two of them as emotions crossed over Alistair’s usual poker face, first disbelief, shame, then acceptance.

“I see,” he murmured, giving in, but not at all convinced. “Don’t you want any other reassurance, Sophia?” Please, say you do.

“None,” she shook her head, “besides your word.”

Honor. That’s what she is trying to tell me. His green eyes bore down on hers and what he saw in them made him nod, reluctantly, “So be it. I’ve already given it.” He rose from his armchair and stretched his hand to help her, putting an arm around her waist, squeezing it lightly. “Let’s not waste any more of John’s time.”

“No problem... It was a pleasure to help you. But, please, Alistair, don’t call me every time... Ah... Sophia floats on to cloud nine,” John teased, his face opening in a full smile.

Alistair couldn’t contain his own smile, “No, I won’t. If I did, you wouldn’t be able to-”

“For God’s sake, Alistair Connor,” Sophia slapped Alistair’s biceps, blushing, “behave.”

He laughed out loud. He so loved to watch her blush. “That, sweetheart, I can promise you I won’t do.”

Outside Dr. John Walter’s Office.

12.25 p.m.

“Hey, relax,” Sophia coaxed, caressing his knuckles with her thumb, while they walked out of the clinic. “If you want to have your tests done again, do them.”

“It’s not that.” He looked down at her from his full height, his brows draw over his Cartier gold Santos sunglasses, “I don’t understand why you didn’t let me pay John’s fees. I asked for the appointment. I should pay.”

She blinked and frowned, halting instantly in the middle of the street. She put her hands on her hips and glowered at him, “Alistair Connor. John Walter is my gynecologist. Mine.”

With one step, he stood closer and gripped her chin, taking off her Louis Vuitton sunglasses to peer into her eyes, “I asked for the appointment.”

“So?” she shrugged.

“You are keeping me out and I don’t like it,” he hissed the last words between clenched teeth.

“Ah,” comprehension dawned on her. “But I’m not keeping you out. I’m just setting a boundary for you. And I hope you respect it. Let me make myself clear again, Alistair. John Walter is my doctor. If you need any information concerning me or my body, you first have to ask me if they are available to you.” She slightly narrowed her eyes at him, “I’m not giving you this power. You are already an overbearing-”

The fingers that held her chin plunged into her hair, the other hand, still holding her glasses, snaked around her waist, dragging her flush to his body and he kissed her stormily in the middle of Earl’s Court Road.

He raised his head, panting, “You drive me crazy when you defy me.”

“If this kiss, in the middle of Kensington, is what I can expect for my defiance,” she licked her reddened lips, “then, I think I will defy you again and again.”

“I don’t know if that’s very bad, or very good,” Alistair shook his head, with a smile on his lips.

Her fingers were drawn inexorably to his gorgeous silky hair and she teased, “My lord Marquis, you are so feudalist, demanding full obeisance of your wishes...”

“And you are an anachronism, my lady. You love medieval theologians and philosophers, but also you have totally contemporary and inappropriate teenage behavior. I can’t place you.”

“Teenage? Really?” she smiled, amused. “Mmm. You are not the first to think I behave like a teenager around you. Maybe I give you this impression because when I’m around you, you make me want to do things to provoke you.”

“Provoke me?” He didn’t mind at all that they were in the middle of the busy sidewalk, at lunch hour, and he tugged her hair, making her move her head back to escape the pain.

Her lips stretched and curled open in a devious smile, “I love seeing you out of your depth when I do things you don’t expect. It’s almost... comical. It makes me giddy,” and she finished in a whisper, “and horny.”

Comical? The grip on her hair loosened as Alistair’s jaw dropped open. He was speechless. Not one coherent thought came to his mind to answer her provocation.

“Yeah, teenage perhaps,” she continued and shrugged, “but then, I’m entitled to be a little irresponsible. You’ll just have to come to terms with me,” she paid no heed to his stern regard, “and my behavior. Now, if you want my company for a quick lunch, move! I have to work and Gabriela demands my presence at home by five. Ah,” she rose on her tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on the lips, “by the way, thanks for the doll. She loved it.”

Alistair’s face split in a huge grin at the mention of Gabriela. “She already called me. What time am I supposed to be at your house tonight?”

“Six, if you want to play with Corolle,” she smirked at him. “Gabriela dines at six-thirty and goes to bed at seven-thirty.” She tugged him by the hand and he pulled her in the other direction. She paused and looked at him.

“This way. I’m going to take you to a new restaurant: Kitchen W8. Have you been there?”

“Not yet. I thought we could get some Chinese food.”

“I’ve already made reservations.”

More orders, Alistair Connor? “Oh. You did.” The sarcasm was not lost on him.

You really don’t take orders well, do you, Sophia? “The food is delicious. Traditional English food, but with a modern twist. You’ll like it.”

“Very well,” she complied.

They walked a few minutes, hand in hand, in companionable silence.

Sophia glanced at Alistair’s thoughtful face, “A penny for your thoughts.”

He looked down at her for a moment and then asked, “You don’t go out much, do you?”

“Not really. I don’t have many friends here and I don’t see the fun in going to the theatre or eating alone in a restaurant. I prefer staying in with Gabriela. Besides, I’m very exacting when it comes to food, in general. From its freshness to the final dish presented to me. I guess it comes from having been a Cordon Bleu student.”

“Hmm, I guess.” He put his arm around her back, dragging her close to him as they walked toward the restaurant. “But...”

“But?”

“That not it, is it, Sophia?”

No. It’s not. I need to remain hidden. “What else could it be?”

He stopped in front of the restaurant door and lifted her sunglasses to look into her eyes, “Why don’t you trust me with whatever secrets you are keeping?”

She looked away and murmured, “There are no secrets, Alistair.”

He gripped her chin in his hand and raised her face toward his, ordering, “Look at me.”

Alistair Connor, you don’t want to discover my dark secrets. And when she gazed into his eyes, her features were already composed.

Alistair wondered what could such a young and innocent woman have done, to keep it buried so deep. “You know, Sophia, this mysterious aura around you... just makes you more enticing. I’ll uncover and solve whatever enigmas you’re hiding.”

Chapter 3

Kensington. Kitchen W8.

1.09 p.m.

“Why do you insist on turning me into a hero? I’m no hero, Sophia.”

She gave him a small smile, “A hero is a man who does the best he can. Nothing more.”

Sophia, Sophia. I didn’t do the best I could. I’ve been evil for years. “Hmm. All this just because I sent your daughter a doll?”

“No,” she shook her head. “You really don’t get it. You care, Alistair Connor. Gabriela said she wanted the Corolle doll just once during our dinner yesterday. And you cared enough to remember and send it to her first thing this morning. With your personal card attached. And flowers. This, my dear, is so much more important than anything.”

I... I care? The way Sophia turned what he considered a simple gesture into a grandiose thing left Alistair discomfited and scared. He immediately repelled the good image she made of him, “You see good where there is none.”

“And you see bad always and everywhere,” she retorted instantly. “Why you should have such a poor opinion of yourself eludes me.”

It’s because I know who I am, Sophia. “It’s not a bad opinion, just a fair one.”

She frowned in thought, “I don’t remember who, but someone once said ... The mask, given time, comes to be the face itself.”

“Marguerite Yourcenar,” he prompted.

“Ah, yes.” She looked at him seriously, “Is that what you want to become, a heartless and callous man, a misogynist, who’ll live alone for the rest of his life? Just because you were hurt once?”

Hurt once? Alistair’s thin nostrils flared wide. Careful, Sophia. Dangerous ground. The echoes of his despicable, vengeful wife and the horror of his daughter’s broken body resonated in his mind, but Alistair was stunned to watch the memories through a lighter filter, their surfacing not poisoning him as they usually did.

The approaching waiter interrupted their conversation. “Ma’am, sir, the fillet of cornish pollock.”

“Thank you,” Sophia and Alistair said at the same time. She glanced at him and grinned at the coincidence as he squeezed her hand, his mood lightening in a second.

“Mmm,” Sophia moaned, closing her eyes, “this smells very good.”

“I knew you would like it here,” he glanced at her hand, admiring it with his gift on her finger. “Do you still have many friends in Brazil?”

“I have very good friends in Brazil, but few. One doesn’t need many friends, just good ones. I’m a private person and...” I need to hide, I can’t afford to make new friends.

“And?”

“I have my daughter, my family, my PhD, my work, my books. I barely have time for myself.”

“Aye, you should work less, Sophia.” He paused and sipped his wine, musing, “I don’t know how you manage to do everything.” He put the glass on the table and counted on his right hand fingers, his plain white-gold Love ring catching the soft light. “Between your studies, your lectures, your foundation and Leibowitz’s problems, what time do you have for Gabriela?”

“More than enough. The trick is being extremely organized, working only with top people and not being self-centered. I demand excellence from those who work with me. I don’t tolerate laziness, I don’t accept unpunctuality or rudeness. And I hate mediocrity. I give my best, always, and so must the ones that work with me.”

His eyebrows were almost at his hairline, “Exacting, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “We, my siblings and I, were raised by my grandparents, Alistair. A Portuguese upbringing. Very different from the Carioca one. They could have chosen to pamper and pity us, trying to make up for what we had lost. But they didn’t, because nothing would ever make up for my parents’ death. We had everything: love, attention, the best money could buy, but we were taught that we had to first give to then receive. And they only praised us when we endeavored to achieve the best we could. They brought out the best in us.”

“A little harsh, don’t you think? You were so little, even your brother was young, when your parents died.”

She thought for a moment, before answering, “You know, it may seem a little harsh, but it made me who I am and I am grateful for it. I wouldn’t exchange it for a less challenging upbringing. If I hadn’t been taught how to be strong and face difficulties, my father-in-law would have destroyed me when Gabriel died.”

“What?”

“A very long and complicated story,” she ended the subject and he let go, sensing it was a sore subject.

“You know, Sophia, I never thought I would engage in another relationship...”

She put a forkful in her mouth gaining time. Hmm. Treacherous territory. Should I ask? “And how do you feel about it?”

He smiled. “Are you trying to analyze me?”

“Why. Isn’t this a normal question for an unusual statement? Specially after what we were just talking about, Lord Misogynist?”

Should I answer? He chewed his fish, thoughtfully, and decided for stalling. “An unusual statement?”

“I would say so. Everyone wants to feel loved and to love, and, to do so, a relationship or commitment is a prerequisite. If not, it’s not love, it’s unilateral adoration. In that light, don’t you think your statement is unusual? Don’t you think I would like to know how you are feeling about it? Do you know how you feel about it?”

“How long have you been in therapy, Doctor Leibowitz?” he teased.

She smiled sadly and looked down at her plate from a moment before raising her eyes to look into his green ones, “Since I lost my parents. I have a fifteen year unofficial PhD on the subject.”

The inevitable and brutal truth made Alistair’s heart squeeze in his chest as he pictured a small orphaned Sophia. He curled a lock of her raven hair around his fingers. “And does it help?” he asked quietly.

“A lot. But you didn’t answer my question, Lord Slippery. How do you feel about our relationship?”

“I told you yesterday, have you forgotten?”

“Do you think you can outsmart me in this game, Alistair Connor?” She didn’t fall prey to his game of hide and seek. “Humor me again, please.”

“Sophia...” his deep voice was low as he confessed, “you have to understand that I was... I was so numb, only violence could touch me. I felt old and jaded. Cruelty came easily to me, maybe too easily. I felt a deep need to punish and be punished by my disgust with myself. I didn’t want a bond with anyone. I just wanted to cause pain and feel it.”

Sophia drank a big gulp of wine, astonished. “God, Alistair.”

“First, I was a hedonist drunk on sensation. I tasted everything that was proposed to me. But then... After Nathalie’s death, I couldn’t stand to be loved. I’ve lived the last year in excruciating, endless solitude. Each night, I scrubbed my scars raw again. Scars I was responsible for. I embraced the shadows, regardless of any need to love, to link, even in friendship. Since I couldn’t be entombed with Nathalie, I buried myself under hard work during the day, and in depravation at night.”

She was too shocked by his confession to say anything, having even forgotten to continue eating.

“Being with you is inspiring, Sophia. You radiate light; you are good, young and pure. Everything about you is honest and decent. So different from what I was used to.”

Good? Pure? Decent? You couldn’t be more wrong, Alistair Connor.

His fingertips caressed her cheek, “I don’t know what I would have done if you had walked away Saturday night. And you had every right to, after what happened.”

“I told you, you are forgiven.”

He gave her a sad smile, “You have an immense capacity for forgiveness. Even though,” his fingers lowered to the scarf tied skillfully around her neck, “your body does not.”

She shook her head at him. “You’re wrong.” And she put his fingers on her left upper arm. “My body can heal as easily as my soul. It’s this capacity that keeps me alive, that every day renews my belief in good and in human beings in spite of everything that has happened to me.” In spite of what I’ve done.

“Maybe that explains your refreshing innocence.”

“Maybe. What happened... Saturday night, it’s nagging you, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” he admitted, looking into her eyes very seriously. “I’ve never... attacked or harmed a woman in that way. It... I freaked out.”

“I never gave you cause to doubt my actions.”

“It’s not you, Sophia. It’s me. I know now it was unfair. I’m distrustful to the extreme.” He inhaled deep and his hand sought hers, enlacing their fingers, he looked into her eyes and said, “Heather hurt more than just my pride. She broke me in so many ways that I lost the ability to love. And after Nathalie’s death, I... lost the desire to live, to put it lightly.”

Sophia swallowed the crusted aubergine she was eating with difficulty. She put her silverware on the plate and turned on the sofa to look at him. In a wisp of a voice, she started to say, “You thought about...” But couldn’t finish the thought, it pained her so much.

He shifted to face her. “Suicide? Aye, I did. More than once. You can’t imagine what it is to love a child as I loved Nathalie and to know that I was partially responsible for her death... It drove me insane.”

“Oh, my dear,” she breathed, tears in her eyes and threw her arms around his torso, hugging him fiercely, not caring about the scene she was making. “Alistair. Oh, Alistair,” she murmured, “I’m so sorry.”

He embraced her and buried his head in her hair, letting her sweet smell soothe him and whisk away the painful memories.

His deep voice reached inside her, “You become responsible for what you’ve tamed, said the fox to the little Prince.”

She lifted her head to stare into his beautiful green eyes and waited for him to continue.

He cupped her face in his big warm hands, “You’re responsible for my heart and soul now, Sophia. Don’t let me down.”

She combed his hair with her fingers and shook her head, “Never. It’s a promise.”

He kissed her briefly on the lips. “You’re an amazing woman.”

“You’re an amazing man, Alistair Connor. I’ll make you believe it.”

Alistair almost scoffed at what she said, but the belief he saw in her light honey eyes prevented him. It brought such joy and peace to him that he felt lightheaded.

She smiled at him and asked, “Ready for your favorite part of our meals?”

His face lit up and he licked his lips, “Ah, dessert.”

She slid out of the sofa, “Why don’t you surprise me, while I go to the restroom?”

“If you promise to make love to your surprise...”

She giggled. “You’re incorrigible.”

His laughter followed her through the restaurant.

1.39 p.m.

Sophia halted mid-stride when she noticed that Alistair was standing beside their table talking to the same blonde woman they had seen at The Waterside Inn, in Berkshire. His face was drawn taut and his spine was stiff.

The woman was again scantily clad, although her clothes screamed money. She appeared to be wearing a very short see-through silk dress and nothing underneath. Her high heels were Louboutin. She had enormous earrings and lots of bracelets that sparkled and clinked when she moved.

Sophia studied the stunning woman, trying to discern if she was a pro or not. Thoughts whirled in her head as she decided what she should do. She looked around the restaurant. Alistair didn’t notice, but people had turned to look at him and the woman, whispering behind their hands. When the blonde pouted her lips at Alistair, Sophia was spurred into action.

Well, I’m not just going to stand in the middle of the restaurant. She is the intruder.

As she walked slowly to Alistair’s side, part of their conversation reached her ears.

“-a long time, my dear.” And the woman put a hand on Alistair’s crossed arms intimately, “I miss our...” Sophia couldn’t hear the rest of the sentence as the woman stood on her tiptoes and whispered it in Alistair’s ear. She got down on her heels with a smug smile on her face.

Alistair pushed away the hand that was now caressing his biceps and stated in a dry voice, “I can’t say the same. Forever will not be long enough for me to forget, Emma. Now, if you’ll excuse-” As he turned, he saw that Sophia was almost at their side. He was thunderstruck for a split second, then immediately stopped a passing waiter, took some notes from his wallet, saying, “We have to go. Keep the change.”

As Sophia approached him, he put an arm over her shoulder, ordering, “Come.”

Without waiting for an answer or saying farewell to the blonde woman, he dragged Sophia out of the restaurant, and walked in silence to the side street, where Garrick was parked, waiting. Still brooding, he entered the BMW after her and closed the door with so much calm it was disquieting.

What just happened? Sophia was bewildered and decided to stay quiet. She enlaced her fingers and rested them demurely on her lap, gazing outside, not really seeing the passing cars and the people hurrying to and fro.

“Garrick, please, drive to my place,” Alistair said into the intercom.

Sophia’s head whipped to look at him, “Alistair, I can’t-” She stopped as she saw the anguish stamped on his features. “Alistair, my dear, I have a meeting at two-thirty.” She glanced at her watch, “It’s one forty-five.”

“Sophia, I have to tell you something. We need to talk.”

She looked at her watch again, “Is it so important that it can’t wait until tonight?”

I’ll lose my courage. He sighed, “Tonight, then.”

Mayfair. Lodes’s Clinic.

Tuesday, October 23

rd

, 2007.

11.41 a.m.

“Please, sit, Alistair Connor.” Doctor Benjamin Lodes motioned to one of the armchairs. He was Lachlann’s urologist and had know Alistair since he was a baby. He waited until Alistair was comfortably seated and perched himself on the table. “How have you been feeling?”

“Uh... Still a bit uncomfortable. I thought I was fine when I finished the last antibiotics...” Alistair didn’t like the grimace that crossed Doctor Lodes’s face. “Why? Did the new tests show a relapse?”

“I don’t have good news, my boy.” The doctor sighed and sat in the other armchair and patted Alistair’s knee. Alistair’s eyes rounded at the serious and fatherly tone the doctor’s voice had acquired. “I- Alistair Connor. You don’t have a chronic urinary infection.”

“No?” Alistair’s face showed his surprise. But that was what you told me in March and kept telling me all these months.

“Seems that the test results were wrong.” The doctor stretched his arm and picked up a folder, taking out a sheet and handing it to Alistair. “This arrived just this morning, and, according to the result, you have contracted a serious STD.”

“What?” Alistair’s face showed his disbelief at the news. “But I thought-”

“Yeah. I know I said it was a urinary infection. It was what the tests showed. Unfortunately, that’s not all of it.” Doctor Lodes was saddened by having to give such news to Alistair. He liked him so much.

“Are you sure, Doctor Ben? My tests... Last year... didn’t show any disease.”

“This is a silent disease, Alistair Connor. It’s called Mycoplasma genitalium. And not very easy to detect. I only included it on my list for obligatory exams recently. As you were once a... Let’s say... Ah-”

“Promiscuous,” Alistair supplied to ease the doctor’s discomfort.

“Yes, unfortunately you fall into the category. As I was saying, I included that exam in your tests. It’s not very common, at your age, to have such a continuos inflammation as you’ve had this year. Heather has to be tested as well. I would guess that she has it too.” He pulled another sheet from Alistair’s file. “I wrote a prescription for you. It’s for azithromycin. I’m recommending a prolonged course. It means a strong dosage for a longer duration.”

This is wrong. It must be wrong. I’ve never had a sexual disease before. “But... shouldn’t we do another test? Maybe this is the wrong one...”

“We can do more tests, yes. But I’m not willing to take any risks here. If you really have Mycoplasma genitalium for this long, without treatment...” The doctor shook his head, slowly.

“But how could that have happened?” Heather always does her tests. She is clean too.

“How? Alistair Connor, you’ve had multiple partners.” Disapproval was apparent in his voice. “And we both know that you don’t always practice safe sex. No matter how many times I’ve warned you about the risks. Have you, ah... Had any other new partners lately?”

“No,” Alistair answered, bewildered. “Not for a long time,” he ran two fingers over his square jaw, thinking. “Since Heather got pregnant.” It has been only Heather and I. And... Emma. Don’t forget Emma, Alistair Connor.

“I treated your supposed urinary infection with tetracycline and, although, you could have been cured, it seems to me that Heather might be infected because you keep returning here with the same problem. And I’m sure the relapse is going to be more difficult to treat because the bacteria may have become stronger and more resistant.”

Alistair frowned at that. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing to be scared about now. I’m requesting new tests to be done after you complete the treatment.”

“Okay. I’ll inform Heather that she has to do the test.” And Emma.

“Yes. And she has to be specific with her gynecologist because it requires a specific test to be detected. Here’s the name of the test she has to do.” Doctor Lodes handed two other sheets to Alistair. “And this one is for you to do in four weeks after you finished the azithromycin. They’ll inform me of the result and I’ll call you, my boy.”

Alistair rose from his chair, unsure of his feelings. There were so many questions on his mind in that moment that he felt dizzy. “Thanks, Doctor Ben.”

“I hope you’ll take better care of yourself from now on.” The doctor gripped Alistair’s hand in his and looked deep into his eyes, “Alistair Connor, I could be your father, so I’m going to say what I’m sure your father said a long time ago: get rid of Heather.”

Alistair swallowed his anger with difficulty, out of respect for Doctor Lodes, a gentle middle-aged man, and one of Lachlann’s closest friends. “Doctor Ben, Heather is the woman I married, I don’t-”

“Alistair Connor, you have always been stubborn, haven’t you?” Doctor Lodes put a heavy hand on Alistair’s shoulder, shaking his head. “I know your parents don’t like her and you think it’s unfair. Then, why don’t you talk to Mark or to Johansson instead? Both are good friend of yours.”

Alistair eyed the older man and something in his eyes made him answer, “I will, Doctor Ben.”

Kensington Palace Garden. Atwood House.

Monday, March 15

th

, 2010.

5.45 p.m.

“You don’t need to accompany me, Lucy. I know the way. Thanks,” Alistair dismissed the housekeeper and climbed up the stairs to the second floor, going to Gabriela’s room.

He paused at the door, enchanted by the sight.

That’s exactly what I need in my life. Alistair leaned on the doorjamb and let the scene wash over him.

Sophia was sitting on the floor, with her back against the wall, in loose jeans, a white cotton T-shirt, a colorful scarf around her neck, barefoot, her long hair still damp from a recent shower. Gabriela was perched on Sophia’s legs with her new doll on her lap.

Alistair’s mouth dropped open when Gabriela spoke with the doll in French, as naturally as she spoke English and Portuguese.

As he walked into the room, Sophia’s head came up and she smiled at him, her face brightening even more.

Does my little fairy speak French? “Parlez vous français, ma petite fée?”

Gabriela jumped off Sophia’s lap and ran to him, her doll under her arm. He scooped her up in his arms and she hugged him, kissing his cheeks and answered, “Oui, bien sûr. Merci pour ma pupée.”

“You’re welcome, Fairy.” He looked at Sophia and commented on Gabriela’s words, “Of course, my fairy would speak French.”

Sophia smiled, “Well, she is my daughter, isn’t she?”

She started to rise but stopped as he sat on the floor, beside her, in a fluid movement, putting Gabriela on his lap and bending his head to kiss her lightly on the lips.

Sophia sighed inwardly and melted at the sight of him, murmuring, “I don’t know how, being so big, you manage these graceful movements.”

He stared at her, bewildered, “What?”

“You just sat on the floor with Gabriela in your arms as if you were a... Ballet dancer.”

“Ballet dancer? Ballet. Dancer?” he repeated, shocked. “You offend all my years of Karate training.”

“Ah. That explains it, then. I always wanted to learn Karate, but my grandparents wouldn’t let me. Instead, they made me take ballet classes.”

He smiled, “I can picture you dancing, but not fighting.”

“Oh, but Mama fights,” Gabriela said.

“Does she?”

“Yes, some funny Japanese fight and big, heavy swords,” the little girl bobbed her head, confirming.

“Japanese fight? Big, heavy swords?” he frowned at Sophia.

A big smile spread over Sophia’s features at Gabriela’s explanation. “It’s not Japanese, Gabriela. It’s Chinese.”

“Whatever, Mama. I like it.”

She chuckled, looked at Alistair and explained, “Tai chi chuan. And the swords are only big and heavy for Gabriela. They are mere fencing swords, a sabre.”

“Right. Of course, you would go for the heaviest one.”

She shrugged, “I thought it’d be more challenging. A heavier sword, smaller target area, faster pace.”

Gabriela hummed and Alistair glanced at her. The girl had a dreamy look on her face. She smiled at him, saying, “You should come to see Mama’s lessons. She flies. I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

“You’ll be much better, my angel,” Sophia said and changed the subject. “Why don’t you show Alistair what your doll can do?”

“Oh, yes.” She shifted on his lap and said, “Sophia speaks four different languages-”

“Sophia?” He raised a questioning black eyebrow at her.

“My new daughter’s name is Sophia,” she explained. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

He flashed his most endearing smile at her and winked at Sophia, “Indeed. After yours, the most beautiful name in the world.”

Sophia looked at the two of them and the love she saw in their eyes made her heart burst. Oh, my. Have I found my angel in disguise?

10.47 p.m.

She watched him unabashedly as she dipped her spoon in the box and licked its back. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing sinewy forearms. His shoulders were wide, and vibrant energy was rolling off him in thick waves.

I want you. She closed the refrigerator door and walked lithely, fixing him with a devious stare, until she was mere inches from him.

Alistair shifted on his feet, unsure. Me. Hesitating. Inconceivable!

He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the island, standing between her legs.

Sophia giggled, holding out a spoonful of the frozen treat. “Tangerine.”

“I prefer orange topped with vanilla sauce and rose petals.” He smiled and allowed her to feed him, and when she leaned forward, her tongue darted out to lick his lips, he found himself lightheaded. Images from a movie flashed through his mind.

“Have you seen Nine and a half weeks?”

She creased her pretty nose, “Never heard of it.”

Aye, you were a child. “Mmm, then close your eyes,” he purred, “let me surprise you.”

“Hmmm.” She licked the spoon, again. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Ah. No, you said?” he tsked and closed the refrigerator door. Slowly, he pulled the dishcloth from its hanger. “Sophia, that was your one chance. Now, you’ll do as I want.” He stretched the dishcloth between his hands, folded it and put it over her eyes, tying it at the back of her head, murmuring on her lips, “You’ll have to learn to obey my commands.”

“Never, sire. I’m rebellious.”

Sophia, Sophia. He started disrobing her, pulling off her T-shirt.

“In the kitchen?” Sophia was astonished.

He nibbled her shoulder before confirming, “Aye, in the kitchen. Some other time, we’re going to test the pool. How about that?”

“Okay.” She smiled sassily at him. “Then lock the door, please.”

“Don’t move or you’ll fall.”

As he crossed the room to lock the door, she silently jumped off the island, pushing the blindfold up on her head, a naughty smile on her lips.

Alistair continued to talk, unaware she was tiptoeing around the island to hide from him. “And I don’t want to hear any screams. It’ll be a good test of your control.” He heard a soft thud and, when he turned, he was alone in the kitchen.

He looked around and there was no sight of her, “Sophia?”

Alistair felt a strange exhilaration fill him as her stifled giggles reached him. Three months ago, if one of his friends had said to him that he would be turned on looking for a woman in a dark kitchen, he would have told them they were crazy. He picked up her soft cotton T-shirt and dipped his nose in it, inhaling her scent and palmed his arousal, shaking his head, amazed.

“Hide and seek, Sophia? What will my prize be when I find you?” He looked under the table and behind the island.

No Sophia.

No answer.

No sound.

Not in the kitchen? He swept the room and his eyes paused on the door that lead outside. No. Not possible.

Sophia was having the time of her life. “Meow.”

Alistair’s eyes whipped to the end of the room, where the muffled sound had come from. In the soft night light that came in through the windows, he couldn’t make out where she was. “You are in for it now, lass.”

Sophia giggled in the dark.

On hearing the sound, Alistair darted forward, but he still couldn’t locate her hiding place. He switched the kitchen lights on and frowned, “Where the hell are you?”

“Meow,” she said again.

He groped the wall and found a sliding door.

“Ah-ha!” He flicked on the lights and found her sitting on her heels in the corner of the pantry, with only her scarf around her neck, a flimsy bra and jeans, the blindfold holding her hair back. He stopped in the middle of the room and barked a laugh, “You’re completely crazy, you know? Now. What’s my prize?”

“My lord, I’m so sorry I caused you trouble.” She crawled to him on all fours, until she found his bare feet. Alistair grunted at the sight. She rose on her knees and opened his zipper, “Will a blow job make up for it?”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!! Her T-shirt fell from his fingers and he shoved his hands in her hair, pushing the dishcloth away, as she tore down his jeans and briefs.

“I don’t think-” As soon as she put her mouth around him, he changed his mind, groaning, “Aye, it will. It will.”

The corners of Sophia’s mouth curled up around his girth and she raised her hands to open his soft flannel shirt, as she slowly explored his length with her tongue and lips. Her nails grazed his waist.

“That’s so good,” he breathed. “Do it again.”

But she didn’t obey his request and raised her hands until she found his nipples and pinched them lightly.

Alistair grunted loudly and bit his lip to control the pleasure that was building up too quickly inside him, as she sucked him deeper.

When Sophia’s nails rounded to his back and unexpectedly clawed down his back all the way to his buttocks, he almost spilled in her mouth. He gasped loudly and withdrew from her lips, removing his jeans and briefs in a swift movement, dropping to his knees and shrugging off his shirt.

“Now, you are going to pay for what you did,” he murmured against her mouth before taking it in a fierce kiss, while his hands freed her from her bra and opened her jeans. He laid her down on the floor and pulled off her jeans and panties.

He wanted her as he’d never wanted another woman. He nestled himself between her thighs and raised himself on his elbows, nudging her with his length, “So ready, Sophia.”

“Come on. I’m wet and horny,” she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

“Talking dirty,” he tsked and smiled against her lips. “I think I’m going to punish you for that.”

“Do it and I’ll punish you back.” Undulating her body under his, she ordered, “Now. Stop talking and fuck me.”

He groaned and shoved into her in a hard thrust.

“Ah,” Sophia moaned in pleasure. “More!”

He closed his eyes, wrestling with his desire to do it again, but she was too tight and he wanted the night to last. He moved again, in swallower plunges until he was buried to the hilt.

“Now, move.”

“No more orders from you...” He moved his hips in a semi-circle, teasing her as he dipped his head to take her breast in his mouth, sucking it hard and then lapping it with his tongue.

“Oh, please. Please.” Sophia gasped as a hot spear of desire shot through her spine. She felt his smile on her other breast.

Alistair raised his head, “That’s better. Now, don’t make a sound. It won’t be funny if Zareb or Devon come running in to save you from my cock.” He thrust in her, slowly, enjoying the way her body gripped him like a fist.

“I don’t care... Move,” she rolled her lower body in a blatant sexual move. “Make me come screaming. Loud. Let the whole world hear me screaming your name.”

“Later. In your bedroom. Now, I’ll have you quietly,” he plunged again and stilled, staring down at her with those beautiful green eyes. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to come.”

She gripped his hair and tugged, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Your call. Three, two-”

“No, no. I’ll obey.” She wanted him to ravage her, to take her hard until she screamed in release over and over. But she would take it anyway he chose.

He laughed low in her ear, “Good. Now, relax and enjoy.”

“You are bad,” she said as she bit his shoulder, “I’ll get you for this.”

He gritted his teeth as her soft bite sent a surge of lust straight to his arousal. “Slow or fast?”

“Fast and rough. I’m almost there,” she panted and sunk her nails in his buttocks.

“So eager, Sophia.” His soft laughter filled the room and his head swooped down, his tongue invading her mouth as he pumped into her, taking her to heaven until Sophia shuddered, gasped and bit his shoulder to avoid crying out as she came.

But he wasn’t done. As Sophia’s body still trembled, he ground into her, again and again, chasing his own climax, “I’m-” He clenched his jaw to stop his shout.

Sophia’s eyes flew open as he shoved harder inside her, astonished as another orgasm built inside her.

Alistair threw his head back as he came, the muscles of his neck straining as his hips jerked against her, his long black hair flying around his shoulders. “Mine, Sophia. You’re. Mine,” he hissed between clenched teeth as a powerful orgasm shook his big body. “My love.”

“Yours,” she whispered. The feel of Alistair coming inside of her for the first time and the image of his rugged face in release were the sexiest things Sophia had ever experienced.

“Alistair.” As a broken gasp escaped her lips, her arms dragged him back to her, as her lips on his neck kissed him and her fingers caressed his nape, just the way he liked when he was younger.

The way he liked things before Heather.

Alistair watched her hungrily as he plunged his semi-hard arousal a little further inside her.

He muttered after a few minutes, “I want more.”

She smiled at him, lazily and sated. “Upstairs.”

He pulled out and got dressed in his briefs and jeans, flinging his shirt to her and collecting the rest of her clothes that were scattered in the pantry.

He helped her put on his shirt and picked her up in his arms. He squeezed her, apologizing softly, “I was a jerk earlier today at John’s.”

“Yeah, you were,” she murmured.

“Can you forgive me?”

“You are already forgiven, oh, Marquis of Distrustful-land,” she said lethargically, running her fingers through his long hair.

“Hmm,” Alistair murmured. “Aye, I behaved like a distrustful caveman. I’m sorry, I’ll try to work on it.” He sighed and buried his head in the hollow of her neck for a second, inhaling her smell deep.

“Sleep with me tonight,” she asked.

He studied her face, as he climbed the stairs, marveling at how the feeling of having her sated in his arms made his heart beat joyfully, “Do you know what you’re doing to me, Sophia?”

She smiled at him, lazily, as he strolled to her bedroom, “Mmm, no. What?”

“You are turning me inside out.”

“No,” she breathed on his neck, causing goosebumps to rise, “you are. Turning me inside out. You.”

Tuesday, March 16

th

, 2010.

6.15 a.m.

Alistair braced himself on one elbow and leaned to kiss awake the woman beside him, her creamy velvet skin warm against his lips, her ink-black hair, silk on his fingers.

Her golden eyes were yet hazy with sleep when they fluttered open. She stretched in his arms, “Is it time to wake up already?”

“Aye, slugabed.”

“Slugabed? How dare you.” Fingers threading through his hair, she claimed a deeper kiss that reminded him he was wrapped around her finger. “Good morning, Handsome.”

“Morning, Beauty.” He could never tire of looking at her. “Do you have any idea of the erotic dreams I had just because I slept with you?” He pressed his hard length on her buttocks, “Do you know what inhaling your scent does to me?”

She was suddenly too hot, her skin on fire. “Mmm...”

His thumb traced her lower lip and he pressed at the center of her mouth, his emerald eyes glowing. “I want you, Sophia. I want to bury myself inside you until we’re both too exhausted to move, think or feel.”

He’d already tugged down the sheet to reveal her breasts, and was caressing her with teasing strokes.

Sophia’s response was a husky laugh that filled his heart. She turned in his arms. “What are you waiting for? Do wicked things to me.”

Alistair was enthralled by the stunning and happy woman under him. She threatened his control like no other woman ever had. He wanted to take her, hard; he wanted to slowly savor every inch of her. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He only knew that he felt like the luckiest man on earth.

“You’re the most enticing woman I’ve ever known,” he whispered in her ear as he flung the sheets far, adoring her with his eyes and the tips of his fingers. “You’re...” He shook his head. “I have no words, Sophia. You’re unique.”

She smiled at him, “You know, you can do more than these teasing touches.”

He moved in to kneel between her legs and he caressed her softly with his fingers as he kissed his way down from her neck.

“What do you think you are doing?” Sophia arched under him with a soft gasp, her hands clenching his hair hard enough that it hurt, an exquisite pain that he wanted to grow addicted to.

“Teasing. To start with,” he answered with a devious smile, as he rubbed his unshaven jaw against the soft skin on the outside of her breast, loving the sound of the throaty moan that escaped her as he licked the underside of her breast. “Tell me what you like the most.”

“Everything. With you. Anything,” her hands roamed over his shoulder and she raked her nails down his back.

He groaned and paused above her, “Again.”

She did it and, incapable of holding back, he lowered himself over her and pushed in, biting out, “I love this.”

She smiled mischievously at him and clenched her inner muscles around his arousal.

“Ah-ah. Stop,” he warned as a painfully pleasurable shudder racked his body. “I want this to last.” I want this to last forever.

“I love that horny voice of yours.” Biting gently at his jaw, she interlocked her wrists above her head. “With what new torment do you plan to torture me?”

“Are you testing me, lass?” Another time, he might have played one of his erotic games with her, but having kept Sophia awake well past midnight, he was feeling as satisfied as a big cat who ate an entire bowl of cream. “Are you getting attached to scarfs and dishcloths?”

“I’m getting attached to you,” she retorted and purred. “Take me. Have me as you wish.”

“Mmm. A long and slow fuck this time.” He circled her nipple with a finger. “Very. Slow.”

“Yes, torture me,” she breathed, arching beneath him.

Kissing her lips and feeling desire burn through his veins, he moved his body in a steady, deep rhythm that drew a shuddering gasp of pleasure from Sophia. Even as she moaned and her legs locked possessively around him, he didn’t give in to his own need until he was sure she was as turned on as he was. Until she was as ready as him to fall into an endless abyss of delight.

“Ah, Alistair Connor.” Sophia’s low and sensual cry of pleasure sent them tumbling together into a lush and languid sensation, heart and soul united.

Rippling with aftershocks of ecstasy, Alistair silently promised her that he’d carve out his own heart before he hurt her as he had done the others. He mumbled her name and nestled against her breast, and Sophia felt a swell of tenderness for that big man, who could be so gentle one moment and so fierce another.

Sophia toyed with his hair as he murmured against her breast, “I’m getting used to this. Waking up with you every morning.”

I am, too. You could move in with me. Then she remembered the blonde woman in the restaurant. Don’t rush it, remember, life’s a marathon, not a sprint, Sophia.

She sighed.

“What?” Alistair said sleepily.

Nothing. Just a ravishing woman making me jealous. Sophia put a hand under her head, staring up at the blue and green canopy, all too aware of the comforting weight of Alistair’s head on her breast, of his hand possessively clasping her hip and a leg over hers, as if he were afraid she’d sneak away while he napped.

“Nothing. Sleep,” she ordered softly as her fingers returned to his hair, the caresses lulling him back to sleep.

8.01 a.m.

Sophia bent down and kissed Alistair on the mouth, “Wake up, you slugabed.”

He stretched his big body and opened his green eyes, “Mmm. Now I’m the slugabed?”

“Just returning the compliment,” she teased. “I phoned Garrick and he’s already dropped off your clothes. I’ve hung them in the dressing room for you.”

“Garrick?” He blinked, scowled and gripped her hand as she tried to walk away from the bed, “Where do you think you are going?”

“To shower. I’m sweatyyyy-”

In a quick movement, he snaked her by the waist and dragged her onto the bed, “How dare you leave me alone in bed!”

“Hey! I’m sweaty all over!” she scolded.

“I forgot! Not cold, not hot.” He laughed as he rolled over her. “But it seems you do sweat. What are you doing out of bed?”

“I was working out. I didn’t have any time yesterday and tomorrow I only work out for half an hour before I have to leave for Cambridge.”

He kissed her mouth leisurely and whispered on her lips, “I could have given you a better work out. In fact, I think I will,” he ran his hands over her sides, grabbed her thighs, opening them and set himself between them.

“No, no, no. It’s eight o’clock. I have to shower and go to therapy.”

“You’re not leaving me like this,” he flexed his hips, showing her his aroused state.

“My, Alistair. Do you take viagra?”

“Viagra?” he chuckled. “Oh, no. Now you’re going to pay.” He pulled her top over her head, knotting it at her elbows, binding her arms above her head and cupped her breasts, his thumbs caressing her nipples. “A quickie... Mmm?” he asked as he showered her breasts with kisses.

She moaned, “I have to shower.”

He removed the top from her arms and jumped off the bed, holding out his hand to her, “Come. Let’s shower.”

“Alistair Connor,” she frowned at him and crossed her arms under her breasts, “you’re impossible.”

He laughed out loud, too happy to care about the hour, and picked her up in the arms, humming in masculine satisfaction as she let him do what he would.

Chapter 4

Greece, Mykonos. Niarchos Angepopoulos’s house.

Thursday, January 26th, 1989.

3.53 p.m.

A dry knock on the door brought Ethan’s head up from the book he was reading.

“Come in,” he said in Greek.

Suddenly, the big room became small as Niarchos Angepopoulos entered his grandson’s bedroom. Niarchos was not a big man; by no means fat, tall or handsome. But he exuded such charisma that he seemed taller, broader and more handsome than he was. His aura of power - and his money - made women fling themselves at his feet.

He had a beautiful mane of graying black hair, a slightly beaked nose and sharp, intelligent dark eyes. Always impeccably dressed in tailored clothes and with extremely polished manners, he had worked his way up to the top of Greek society and business world through hard work and also lies and deceit.

Ethan was grateful his grandfather adored him, because Niarchos Angepopoulos was unstoppable when he wanted something. His only weaknesses in life were his late wife, to whom he had been faithful for the thirty-three years of their happy marriage, and his only grandson.

“Good afternoon, Grandpa,” Ethan stood up and kissed him on the cheeks, an admiring look in his eyes.

“Always studying,” Niarchos shook his head as he looked around his grandson’s shaded room and walked to the curtains flinging them wide open. “You need more sunlight in your life, Ethan. It will keep your eyes healthier for longer.”

Ethan was a very handsome young man. He’d had perfect skin during his teenage years and he was starting to fill out nicely, building muscle. He was already tall. His silky brown hair had turned to a dark blond under the Greek sun and his amazing azure eyes, so uncommon in the Angepopoulos’s family, were bright.

Nonetheless, Niarchos worried about him.

Since Ethan had arrived from London, more than two years ago, with a haunted look in his expressive and gullible eyes, he had made no friends and had had no girlfriends, either. He expressed no wish to socialize with his school friends at the beach or at parties. He was extremely shy. The only place he felt comfortable was in the security of his bedchamber or in the gazebo near the private beach, accompanied by his books. Even when Niarchos traveled around the globe, be it on business or on vacation, Ethan refused to leave the house in Mykonos.

Niarchos had to use lots of gentle persuasion to take Ethan out of the darkness of his room. Ethan refused to talk about his feelings, even to the therapist his grandfather made him see, and his depression continued. Niarchos had also started seeing a therapist to see if he could help Ethan. In his last attempt, Niarchos took him to a psychiatrist, who prescribed anti-depressives and that seemed to help a bit.

Since the only things that make Ethan feel a little better were his studies, his books and his computer, Niarchos enrolled him in the best school, paid private tutors to teach him languages and bought all the books and new technology he wanted. Ethan had a very sharp mind and, although he was socially withdrawn, he was a sponge when it came to knowledge.

Still, that wasn’t enough to make the haunted look and the depressed state go away.

Niarchos had decided he would change that. Even if he had to betray his own grandson’s trust. He reasoned with himself that it was small price to pay to teach Ethan the ways of life.

“I want to talk to you, son. Come outside,” Niarchos ordered lightly and crossed the threshold to the veranda, sitting on the comfortable chair.

Ethan eyed Niarchos as he crossed his legs. He blinked nervously. Stop this, Ethan. You know Grandpa doesn’t like you blinking like this.

Niarchos smiled gently at Ethan and motioned for the chair beside him. “My son, I need your help.”

Ethan’s lips opened in a smile, “Of course, Grandpa. Whatever you need.”

Niarchos sat more comfortably and launched into his prepared speech.

Friday, January 27th, 1989.

10.21 a.m.

Niarchos motioned to Ethan, who was standing stiffly beside him, and spoke in his accented French, “And this is my grandson, Ethan Ashford. Ethan, this is my dear friend, Isis, and her daughter, Eve.”

“You never told me you had such a handsome grandson.” The older brunette pursed her lips in a charming pout at Niarchos. She put her manicured hand on Ethan’s cheek, before bending and pressing her face to his. “Where have you been hiding, gorgeous?”

Ethan smiled, embarrassed, but said in his perfect and fluent French, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“They are going to live with us for a few months,” Niarchos explained.

Ethan’s gaze lingered on Isis. She was a mature woman of fifty. Tall, curvy, a bit on the plump side, she had luscious brown hair that touched her shoulders and a very interesting and charming face. Then his gaze moved to Eve and paused there.

The teenage girl that was shyly looking down. He thanked his tanned skin for hiding his blushing cheeks. He was arrested by her beauty and delicate movements.

Eve was average height, with a lean body full of curves in the right places and peachy cream skin. Her hair was long and ink-black. Her nose was up-turned and her mouth small and full. She was wearing an expensive light-pink dress and pink and white flats. His grandfather had described her perfectly: a shy girl that had just left a Catholic boarding school.

To Ethan, she looked like an angel.

An angel he had a sudden and uncontrollable desire to touch.

“Eve is starting at your school this month, Ethan.” Isis softly nudged Eve in Ethan’s direction. “Eve, say hello to Ethan. He is going to help you adjust, aren’t you, Ethan?”

Ethan nodded and opened his mouth to say something, when Eve raised her eyes and, with an enchanting smile, greeted him, “Bonjour.”

He discovered that her eyes where a beautiful shade of chocolate. He felt as his grandfather pressed a hand on his back, motioning for him to kiss the girl. He stepped forward and kissed her cheek. She blinked twice, smiled a bit more and then looked down again.

“Good morning, Eve.” He liked the way her name sounded. “Nice to meet you.”

Isis smugly smiled to Niarchos, who said, “Let’s move to the terrace and have some coffee while Athena arranges your things in your rooms.”

11.43 a.m.

“And do you like to read?” Ethan asked Eve as they strolled through the gardens. Books and studies were the only topics he didn’t have any problem talking about.

She looked up at him and a smile graced her naturally pink lips, hypnotizing Ethan.

“Oh, yes, I do. You know, the Abbess at my old school was very strict about what we could read.” She giggled and the sound went directly to Ethan’s heart, making it beat quicker. “But my friends would always smuggle a forbidden book to my room at night.”

“I see.” They had reached the end of the enormous garden by the beach. “Do you want to sit a bit? The view here is incredible.” Ethan loved the wide square gazebo his grandfather had built especially for him. It had a white trellis with pink and orange bougainvillea. In the spring, the flowers attracted hummingbirds. When it rained, he would spend hours there, reading, admiring the transparent blue Mediterranean Sea and listening to the sound of the rain on the wooden roof and the leaves. The gentle lapping of the waves on the sand brought Ethan peaceful and happy thoughts. It was his favorite place.

He waited for her to sit on the sofa and admired her shapely legs as she shed her flats and tucked her feet under her thighs, leaning on the pillows. He sat beside her, keeping a respectable distance. “So, what kind of books did you read?”

“Oh, you know...” she giggled again and bit her bottom lip, looking down at her fingers.

He shifted a little closer keeping his half-arousal concealed. That girl was doing things to him he didn’t understand and, although he was afraid of those feelings, he was unable to stay away. He wanted to touch her skin to see if it felt as smooth as it looked.

“I don’t. Tell me.”

She raised her puppy eyes to him and whispered conspiratorially, “Promise you won’t tell my mother?”

The way she was confiding in him made him feel bold and he scooted closer to her. “I promise.”

Eve shifted on the seat, slid one of her bent legs closer to him and her double buttoned dress with pleated skirt, climbed up a bit, revealing more of her soft rounded thighs.

Ethan’s mouth dried. He licked his lips. “So? What kind?”

With her knee touching his hip, she leaned over, balancing herself with a hand on his thigh and put her mouth near his ear. Her warm hand sent electric shocks through him and her soft breath tickled his ear when she murmured, “About sex.”

“Sex,” he repeated hoarsely as a thrill of desire ran directly to his crotch. Jesus! I want this angel.

His breathing became uneven. He raised his hand to touch her face. When she didn’t recoil, he put his open palm on her cheek, the tips of his fingers touching her silky hair. His eyes fluttered closed. Such softness. I want to touch her all over. But I don’t know how. What-

A soft kiss on his lips interrupted his thoughts. His eyes flew open and he gasped.

Eve backed away, blinking. “I’m sorry. I-” She put her hands over her face and her hair covered her lowered face.

He looked at her and awkwardly put his hand on her bare knee. “I’m sorry. I don’t...” I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I’m so clumsy.

She looked at him between her fingers.

“Please? Eve?” Ethan squeezed her knee lightly. What should I do?

Eve took her hands slowly from her face. “Don’t tell anyone. Please? It’s just that you are so... handsome,” she put her hand over his and moved it further up her thigh, under her dress, and she pressed her hand down on his. “I have never seen such a handsome man. You know,” her eyes fluttered innocently, but her gaze never strayed from his, as she once more leaned in his direction and, a breath away from his lips, whispered, “I never had a boyfriend.”

Ethan didn’t resist temptation and closed the space between them, putting his lips over hers. Oh. Soft lips. Sweet lips. Angel lips.

His platonic thoughts gave way to fierce feelings as her tongue slid over his lips, her hands wandering gently in his hair and she murmured on his closed mouth, “Oh, Ethan, you make me want forbidden things. Open your mouth.” Her soft tongue probed and found entrance.

Ethan succumbed.

He forgot all his mother and father had done to him.

He forgot all about that awful night and worse morning.

Eve’s kiss was all he could think about.

7.37 p.m.

“Ethan, come in,” Niarchos welcomed his grandson into his bedroom.

Ethan entered and shifted on his feet, unsure.

Niarchos closed the door and smiled inwardly as he quickly surveyed his grandson. “You dressed nicely.”

“Err... Well, I- We have visitors. I thought-”

“You did very well, my boy.” A pleasant smile graced Niarchos’s face. “Isis and Eve are very refined. You know women like well dressed men. Specially French women.”

“They are very beautiful.” And I want Eve, Grandpa. What should I do?

Niarchos finished buttoning his long-sleeved shirt, zipped up his tailored trousers and buckled his belt. He turned away from the mirror and faced his grandson with his mind set on his course of action. One way or another, he would see Ethan transformed into a confident man. “How do I look, Ethan?”

“Handsome and powerful as always, Grandpa.” He shifted from one foot to another and looked away, blinking nervously.

Niarchos put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder and guided him to the veranda, sitting in one of the armchairs. “Sit, Ethan. Tell me what is bothering you.”

Ethan blushed even more. He didn’t know how to talk about sex, so he sat silent by his grandfather and looked down at his black Ferragamo shoes.

“Ethan?” he coached.

Ethan peered at his grandfather from beneath his lashes and said, “Eve. She’s- I want-” His hand smoothed his white shirt and whispered low, “She makes me want things...”

Niarchos took pity on the teenager and said gently, “Ethan, desire and sex are the most natural things that can happen between a man and a woman. There is no need to be ashamed or shy about it.” He stifled his smile when he noticed that under Ethan’s tanned skin his blush deepened even more. “Look at me, Ethan.” He waited patiently for him to look up and continued, “You’re a handsome man-”

“But, Grandpa, I don’t know what to do, how or where to touch her. I don’t know how to kiss. She’s so graceful and I’m so clumsy.” He gibbered as his feelings played havoc inside him. “I- Help me, Grandpa. Please.”

It was exactly the reaction Niarchos wanted. And he had his speech ready.

10.21 p.m.

Ethan watched his grandfather carefully all through the evening, learning from the older man; the small gestures of politeness and the subtle way he touched Isis; his answers to her questions and the way he made her talk about the topics that interested her.

Niarchos was completely different from Ethan’s father and mother. Not that George or Calista were rude. No. They were refined and polite, although Calista was never interested in what one could learn from a book. But Niarchos was the epitome of politeness and refinement, and there was a subtleness to his passions that made Ethan decide that he would rather emulate his grandfather than his parents. Ethan disliked exhibitionism.

He wanted love and trust. He wanted to belong. Ethan was sure that he would find everything he wanted in Niarchos. His grandfather had always been caring. That night especially, Niarchos had been gentle when he explained to him that he would like sex very much.

Ethan decided he would learn from his powerful grandfather how to seduce Eve.

And how to seduce the world.

London, Park Lane. Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

Tuesday, March 16th, 2010.

8.07 a.m.

Ethan stretched in bed and looked at the woman next to him, who was sleeping. What am I doing? She’ll never replace Sophia in my heart.

He rose from the bed and called his assistant, “Good morning, Scott. I want a full report in fifteen minutes, downstairs.”

“Of course, sir.”

Ethan headed to the bathroom musing about Scott.

Scott Mulberry was a thin, blond, and pale thirty-five year old man. He had been working for Ashford Steel since he was twenty-five and was the assistant to another director. Ethan noticed him during a boring meeting when Scott filled in for the missing director. He had spoken with such certainty and clarity about the problem at hand that Ethan promoted him that day to his assistant. He always dressed impeccably and was very polite, almost subservient.

A hard working and ambitious man, Scott was nonetheless totally devoted to his family. Every month, he sent his earnings to his single mother for the tuition of his five younger siblings and to help her at home.

Ethan had gained his utter loyalty when he had helped Scott’s mother buy a much needed new house. Scott, from that time on, had included Ethan in his prayers.

He chuckled thinking about his secretary as he showered with Original Vetiver gel from Creed. He had started buying all his toiletries from Creed because it reminded him of Sophia. Since she had broken up with him, he had been obsessed with her. If he were honest, Ethan had been possessed by her since that fateful plane ride to Geneva.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror, studying his face and body as he dried his hair and shaved.

He still couldn’t understand why she had left him for Alistair MacCraig. He couldn’t figure her out. And he needed to understand. He needed her.

He went to his dressing room, with just a towel around his lean hips. Before choosing his suit, he buried his nose in the clothes he had bought for her. They still held her scent.

So good, so sweet, so Sophia. He inhaled more deeply. Don’t worry, Ashford, you will have her back. You just have to plan things carefully.

In a few minutes, he was sitting in the dining room, having his breakfast. An espresso, bread and fruits, while reading The Financial Times, when Scott knocked at the door, holding a black leather file in front of his chest as a shield.

“Sir, if I may?”

“Good morning, Scott. Come in, please.” He motioned to the chair next to him. “Sit. What have you got for me?”

“Sir, I’m trying my best-” Scott almost choked on his words as Ethan leveled him with a hard stare. “I already have a man on the inside, day in day out. He’s not perfect, since he works as security only outside her house. But I’m working on-”

“Scott, Scott...” Ethan shook his head, slowly. “Have you got the list of employees like I asked? From the house and Leibowitz Oil?”

“Yes, sir, it’s here.” As Ethan scanned the lists, Scott continued, “But the thing is, sir, she pays all her employees very well and she’s a very good employer. As you are, sir. She helps them when they need; she is very polite, calm and fair. They like her very much and are loyal.”

“She is a great woman. Monitoring her life is going to teach you a lot. Learn from her, Scott.”

“I will, sir, as I do from you. But I’m having difficulties discerning a bribable employee inside her house. They are, as I said, extremely loyal.”

“Loyalty, as you know, is not easily discarded, but everyone has flaws, vices, needs. No one is perfect.” No one but her. “How about the list of firms that provide services at her house?”

“Here, sir.” Scott opened the leather case and pulled out two sheets full of names and information.

“Ah! Very good, Scott,” Ethan relaxed on the chair as he sipped his coffee. “Do you have a pen?”

“Here, sir.”

“Not for me. Please, start taking notes. You are going to research the following... Hmm,” his eyes roamed over the list. “The laundry company, the pool cleaner, the restaurateur, no. Not him. Her youngest sister recommended him,” he mused. “Ah, yes, the gardening firm. Look for employees who have debts, mortgages, kids or parents who are ill. I want all the information you can gather. Call James and Carter. Work with them. Only with them,” he said dryly, “and, Scott, I don’t need to remind you-”

“No, no, sir, of course not.” The thin man mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.

“And her schedule? Have you obtained it?”

“Yes, I took the liberty of making a timetable for you, sir.” Another sheet appeared from inside the black leather case. “She teaches at Cambridge, once a week, on Wednesdays and she stays there doing research until eleven o’clock usually. Once a month, she stays until four o’clock for her PhD. She goes to therapy, in South Kensington, twice a week. With Dr. Guilhermina Kent, a very renowned psychologist, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, at nine fifteen in the morning. She goes home after work at around five o’clock. Once a week, on Wednesdays, she has private fencing classes, at home, at four-thirty”...

“Who is the teacher? I want a full report on his life. In fact, I want a full report on her secretary, Sarah and on the ones that work with her at Leibowitz and at the Foundation. Don’t bother with Davidoff. He’s as loyal as a dog. Professor Holbrook and Dr. Kent won’t be useful either. I want all these by the end of the week. Send all the information,” he waved his hand over the sheets Scott had given him, “to my personal e-mail. Encrypted, of course. I don’t want you doing this work from Ashford Steel. Do it here at my home office, always using the private network. Also, I want to know how her PhD is going and who are her supervisors.”

“As you wish, Mr. Ashford. And... If I’m not intruding, sir...”

Ethan shoved a hand in his perfectly combed hair, impatiently, “Shoot, Scott.”

“May I ask if you are satisfied with the... Ah... Your Sophia?”

My Sophia? She’s not my Sophia. Ethan sighed, “Scott, that woman is not even a shadow of Sophia. The real Sophia is unique and incomparable, but... All in all, I’m satisfied. Please, ask Mary to buy her a gift. Diamond earring studs, maybe. And some new lingerie. She can choose whatever she deems sexy. And more of the Sublime Vanille perfume. And, Scott,” Ethan eyed the pen his assistant was holding, “ask Mary to buy you a Montblanc. That pen isn’t acceptable for a man in your position.”

“Huh?” Scott swallowed and the pen vanished below the table. “Of course, sir. Thank you. Anything else?”

“Have you checked her phone lines?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to call a hacker-”

“A-a hacker, sir?” Scott stammered.

“Yes,” Ethan stated calmly as he looked for the hacker’s contact in his BlackBerry. “He is the best in his field.”

Scott’s eyes widened and he almost rubbed his hands together; he so loved spying. “Do you want him to bug her lines?”

“Of course! Here,” Ethan’s cell phone screen showed a cell phone number and a name, Ghost.

“And, sir, he can hack into her computers, too.” Scott got excited. “And break into the security system of her house. Surely, it’s controlled by a remote computer.”

“Scott, never forget this, information is essential. Always. Always listen. Even to gossip.”

“Of course, sir. Employees love to gossip about their employers’ lives.” Scott said eagerly not realizing what he was saying.

“Unfortunately,” Ethan said curtly. “I want everything done. Everything. But it’s crucial I’m kept informed of every step. And I want Ghost to wipe clean all traces of any research you do from my computer. In fact, buy yourself a new laptop. Start working with that, and don’t leave it here. Ever.”

“Mr. Ashford, I keep all vital information encrypted. I would never leave anything that could be traced back to us.”

Ethan smiled at him, his azure eyes twinkling. “Scott, you are the best.”

Scott puffed out his thin chest. “Thank you, Mr. Ashford. Do you want to meet with Ghost, sir?”

“Scott, people in his line of work are necessarily secretive. He will never meet a client and we will never know anything about him. If we want something done, we have to leave instructions in a p.o. box. Surely you can understand his fastidiousness.”

“Ah,” Scott was breathless. “Of course, I understand.”

“Good. Scott, no handwritten notes. Should notes be necessary, type them and use gloves to handle them.”

Scott’s eyes bulged with excitement and he bobbed his head. “Yes, yes, sir.”

“When working here, keep the office locked and don’t leave any research scattered around. As soon as you have all the details you need, burn all written or printed information.”

“Indeed, sir, indeed. Consider it done, as you instructed.”

“Good. I want to be kept abreast of everything she does. Every little thing. I’m giving you a big bonus if you get this first part of the work done properly.” Ethan turned his head to the newspaper, dismissing his secretary, “Thank you. That will be all.”

Scott picked up his file and started to exit the room as Ethan called, “Ah, Scott.”

“Yes, sir...” Scott halted and turned, opening his leather folder, ready to take notes.

“For tomorrow morning. I need Carter and the legal department to devise a taxation strategy so I can make contributions to her foundation. A huge contribution to start with. Directed to women and children in India and China. And I’ll have lunch with her to discuss the application of the funds.” Ethan paused, thoughtfully. “A business lunch, of course.”

“Of course,” Scott concurred, in a whisper.

“Only the two of us, in a secluded restaurant. I’ll think about it and let you know where it is going to be. Tell Carter to call me as soon as he has it done, so I can instruct him further.”

“Yes, sir. It will be done.” Scott left the room with a big grin on his thin lips, thinking about how easy and enjoyable his job was and the big bonus that would be in his bank account by the end of the week.

8.55 a.m.

Sophia paused at the door of her Jaguar and, looking at her reflexion in Steven’s aviator sunglasses, instructed, “Steven, our first stop will be at Dr. Kent’s. Then drive Mr. MacCraig to the bank and come back to pick me up, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Leibowitz.” He opened the door for her.

Sophia, waving good-bye to Gabriela, entered the car.

As the door softly closed, she turned to look at the handsome man beside her. Should I ask? “Alistair Connor?”

Catching the solemn note in her voice, he glanced up from his iPhone, where he was typing a message. “Aye?” Business can wait. The world can wait. Sophia comes first.

She scooted closer to him and picked up his hand, tracing the veins on its back and the ring on his finger. “You haven’t brought up the issue you wanted to talk about... after our... brusquely interrupted lunch.”

Fuck. He stiffened for a moment then relaxed, entwining their fingers. “That requires a lengthy talk. I have to... explain a lot of things to you.” Before someone does it in the wrong way.

“She seemed very... intimate.”

He pushed up his sunglasses and then hers. Staring seriously into her eyes, he explained, “Sophia, that woman... She is Emma Miller.”

So? She looked at him, waiting for the rest of the explanation.

“The surname; doesn’t it ring a bell?”

“No. Why? Should it?”

You really don’t know. It baffled him that she hadn’t the least bit of interest in his past. “Emma was... Heather’s sister.”

“Oh.” She inhaled deeply. “I see.” No. I don’t see. She behaved like a lover, not a sister-in-law.

He placed his hand over hers, “I need time to explain it all to you. I wanted to do it yesterday, but...” He shrugged.

“But...”

“We were so happy. I didn’t want to spoil the night by talking about an unpleasant issue. Perhaps we can have dinner tonight at my place...”

“Tomorrow morning I wake up very early. And... I haven’t been sleeping very much these last few days.”

The bright smile she gave him made his heart fill with an exaltation and a tenderness that astounded him. They were the kinds of emotions he’d never felt for a woman in his whole life.

“Have I told you today that I love you?” he asked, the past few days vivid in his mind.

“Ah...” she frowned, teasing. “I don’t remember.”

Putting her on his lap, he whispered on her lips, “Then let me remind you.”

Atwood House.

Wednesday, March 17

th

, 2010.

06.15 a.m.

“You’re going to spoil me,” Alistair stretched and smiled to a freshly showered Sophia, who had just awaken him with a kiss.

“My lord,” she bowed, a big smile on her lips, “breakfast for two is served.”

“Hmm. Give me another kiss,” he asked and when she bent he pulled her back into bed.

“Alistair Connor. No, no, no. Not today. I give classes at eight in Cambridge.”

He just chuckled and rolled over her, “I don’t give a fuck.” He lifted his broad shoulders, unpinning the clip he had given her and undoing the black velvet choker that covered the black-and-blue marks on her neck. Kissing it tenderly, his deft fingers untied the side bow of her wrap dress. “By the way, this dress is too sexy to be worn to work.”

“Quoting your poor language, I don’t give a fuck.” Sophia put her hands on his chest and pushed, but he laughed and bit her earlobe and neck.

“You’re going to distract your students.” He pushed her bra to the side and nibbled her nipple, before murmuring, “They’ll want to study anatomy instead of criminal law.”

Sophia chuckled and pushed his chest again but he didn’t budge. “Alistair. Stop!”

He lifted his head for a second, “I’ll solve your time problem.” And moved to the other breast.

Sophia, who had already melted in his arms, moaned, “How?”

“Munro can take you and bring you back,” he told her between kisses spread on her stomach, heading down. “Ten, fifteen minutes tops.” His fingers hooked the sides of her panties and pushed them down her legs as his mouth hovered just inches from her almost bare mons. He paused and looked at her, “What do you think?”

She opened her yellow diamond eyes, and ordered, putting a leg over his shoulder, “Stop talking and start kissing.”

His masculine, deep chuckle filled the room accompanied by her pleasure moan while their breakfast got cold in the dining room.

Leibowitz Oil Building.

12.19 p.m.

Sophia’s phone buzzed from an incoming WhatsApp message. She looked at the screen and smiled.

I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: I can still taste you in my mouth. Hmm. I’m hungry. I want a special delivery.

Sophia: Don’t you have to work?

I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: I’m signing a huge new contract. Have lunch with me to celebrate.

Sophia: Sorry, my dear. I can’t. Lots of work.

I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it:

Sophia: I promise a feast 4 you this evening.

I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: I can’t wait. Love you.

Sophia looked at the last two words and her heart beat fast, too fast, in her chest. I love you, you say, Alistair Connor. What are you expecting to hear from me?

Sophia: See you at six.

No more answers came, Sophia could almost bet the green eyes she so admired were not sparkling any more. It pained her but she wasn’t ready yet to say the same to him.

12.36 p.m.

“Mrs. L., Mr. Ashford is on your private line,” Sarah said through the intercom.

“Oh, damn,” Sophia muttered under her breath. “Please, Sarah, tell him I’m very busy. That I’ll-”

An impatient knock on the door interrupted her as Sarah explained, “Mr. Davidoff asks if you can receive him and Mrs. Chanda, Mrs. L..”

Sophia unlocked her door and huffed, “What a day! Sarah, please tell Mr. Ashford I can’t-”

“You can,” interrupted Edward as he entered her office with Zahira Chanda, the president of her foundation. “Take Ashford’s call.” Turning to Zahira he said, “We arrived just in time.”

“What?” Sophia frowned at Edward’s cryptic remark. “Hold on for a sec, Sarah, please.”

Zahira Chanda, a pleasant and calm middle-aged Indian woman, who always dressed in silk saris no matter the weather, approached Sophia’s desk and placed on it an enormous envelope with the Ashford Steel logo stamped in black and silver on the top left corner. It was addressed to Sophia Leibowitz’s Foundation for Women and Children, Mrs. Zahira Chanda, President. “Mrs. L., he wants to make a huge contribution to the foundation. Let’s hear what he has to say.”

He won’t say it on the phone. You don’t know him, Zahira. Sophia raised her brows and sighed. “Okay. Put him through, Sarah, please. Hello, Ethan.”

“Sophia, darling, how are you?” Ethan’s beautiful baritone voice came through clearly over the speaker as Zahira and Edward sat across from Sophia.

“I’m fine, thanks. And you?” Sophia pulled out a black leather folder with the Ashford Steel logo in intaglio containing a presentation of a business plan. A cordial letter signed by Ethan began the document.

“Better now. Sophia, I’m calling because Ashford Steel has recently redone its tax plan for the upcoming year and we need a foundation to invest in. You know the drill,” he explained. “I remembered that you have one. Perhaps you can accommodate us.”

Sophia bit her lip for a second, quickly scanning the papers he had sent and hummed noncommittally, “Mmm, perhaps. Could you explain the proposal a bit more, please?”

“Yes, of course. Are you free for lunch? You and I,” he loaded the words with strength, “can discuss it over a good bottle of champagne to celebrate our new partnership.”

Immediately, Edward bobbed his head at her and whispered, “It’s worth it, Sophia. Accept.”

Changing sides, Brutus? Sophia eyed Edward, then Zahira, who nodded, too. “Yes, you’re lucky. I’m free.” And pressing the mute button for a split second, she asked Edward and Zahira, “How much is it worth?”

Edward put his two hands up and motioned them five times. Sophia made a face at him, not understanding, and threw a notepad and a pen over her desk to him.

“Great. Can I pick you up in... Let’s say half an hour?”

Sophia glanced at the Rolex Ethan had given her. A quarter to one. Lunch with Ethan always takes time. Hmm. “Ethan, if it’s possible, I’d prefer in an hour. I have a few matters to resolve and we’ll be able to discuss the issue without pressure.” Yeah, and this way I can discuss the proposal with Zahira and Edward first.

Edward snapped his fingers at Sophia and raised the sheet for her to see. It said:

£ 50 mm to start with

Sophia’s jaw fell open. She couldn’t believe the number. It was a huge contribution for a single firm.

“Of course, baby. I know a great place, a surprise.” Ethan said.

And to start with? What’s that supposed to mean? “O-okay,” she breathed.

“I’ll pick you up in forty-five minutes.”

Sophia sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward. “All right, then. See you downstairs in forty-five minutes.”

“I can’t wait, baby.” His sensual baritone voice rang in the room after he ended the call, sending a thrill down Sophia’s spine.

She put the handset in its cradle and blinked at Zahira and Edward, “Are you serious? Fifty-million pounds to start with? There must be a mistake, Zahira. Perhaps it’s five million?”

The smile Zahira bestowed on Sophia left no margin for doubt. Ashford Steel was donating fifty-million pounds to her foundation. To start with.

“How can this be?” Sophia couldn’t believe it yet.

Edward got out of his chair and circled Sophia’s desk, pausing near her iMac, “Type Ashford Steel balance sheet and look for its profit.”

Sophia inhaled deep as the ten zero figure appeared on the screen. “My goodness. He has made a huge profit this year. But why doesn’t he direct it to his foundation?”

“Ashford Steel doesn’t have a foundation, nor does Ashford individually. He always makes donations to others,” Edward explained. “From the research I asked the legal department to do, Ashford prefers to concentrate on his business and leave charity to those he thinks are more apt.”

Zahira flanked Sophia and showed her a chapter in the plan. “Look here, Mrs. L., he always makes donations to foundations that protect children. All over the world. Since the donation is so large, he would like to have a say in how it is allocated. He is proposing it be shared, with a portion for India and China, where Ashford Steel has branches, and the rest we would decide. It’s beautifully designed to fit both his and our goals.” Zahira’s dark brown eyes were twinkling.

“A lawyer from Ashford Steel, Mr. Ronald Carter, called us yesterday, after you left, asking for a meeting,” Edward was excited. “It’s fantastic, Sophia.”

Zahira finished the explanation, “Mr. Carter brought this in personally this morning and gave us a lengthy explanation.”

“Mmm,” Sophia raised her brows as she read the paragraph Zahira had indicated with her finger. “This idea is a beauty. Imagine if we could help all those poor baby girls left to die in China... But what I still don’t get is: why us?”

Edward sighed deeply, impatient, “Why? Why not, Sophia? Ashford clearly likes you. You have a foundation that allows this kind of maneuver. He makes contributions every year. He, intelligently, combined business with pleasure. Why not?”

“Mrs. L., the plan has provisions for...” Zahira leafed through the document and pointed to another paragraph, “a ten year plan. It’s a long-term commitment. He is directing all his contributions to your foundation. All he asks for is investments in India and China.”

“Well then,” she raised her eyes to Edward, “since you both approve...”

“We do,” said both at the same time.

Chelsea, Royal Hospital Road. Gordon Ramsay.

1.35 p.m.

“Alistair Connor.” Tavish was flabbergasted. “You’re a genius.”

Alistair smiled smugly at his brother. “The facts were there for everyone to see, Tavish Uilleam, but that’s what makes the difference between a successful businessman and everyone else. Never fear, be bold. I have been investing in that young group of artists for fifteen years. It was pure chance, but when they started having problems keeping up with the mortgage payments for their gallery, The Blue Dot, I took matters into my hands and proposed a partnership, investing more to keep it afloat. Art has always been an obsession of mine. I decided to sponsor all of their,” he made quotes in the air, “insane ideas. Malcolm and Berkley called me a lunatic and didn’t agree with the investment. At that time, they were the majority shareholders at the bank. I was new, starting my career at the bank, thanks to our father’s money.” He shrugged. “I made a deal. I’d make a huge investment in the gallery and be its CFO, if they sold me a percentage of the business and the property. I put in my personal money.” And Alistair’s smile grew larger, “And yours, too.”

“You did what? You never told me.” Tavish shook his head slowly. He didn’t like the way Alistair sometimes treated him as if he were still a little boy, but he had given carte blanche to his brother to do whatever investments he thought interesting, while he was in Iraq and Afghanistan. “But didn’t you think it was too risky?”

“A wonderful house in Chelsea? A historic building? Never. This was clear from the get-go. It has increased tenfold in value, Tavish. And as for the investment,” he smirked. “How do you think both of us ended up owning bigger shares of the bank than Malcolm and Berkley?” Alistair shrugged. “I determined a stop-loss, of course. They are brilliant, just disorganized. They have a great eye for discovering new artists. All I had to do was create a business plan for them to follow, organize their finances and give my opinion whenever a new young artist proposed something - How can I put it? - Extremely contemporary. We’ve been working closely and it has been a huge success.”

“I’ve never seen such a huge profit for such a small investment, in such a short period of time.”

“I turned the idea into an investment fund and I want you to supervise it. We are going to relaunch the gallery on June first.”

Tavish’s brows shot to the middle of his forehead, in alarm. “Me? I don’t know anything about investment funds. I have some connections and I can get clients for the bank, but supervise an investment fund? I know how to buy art, but I don’t know the first thing about selling it. Alistair Connor, I’m going to mess things up.”

But Alistair was already expecting this reaction and had prepared his answer, “But that’s exactly what I need you to do. Get new clients to invest in the fund. I’m planning a big opening party for the gallery. A charity cocktail evening with an exhibit of ten new artists who are finishing their masters at Goldsmith’s. And part of the profit will be reverted to some foundation. I’ve set a meeting with the guys for tomorrow morning. They are going to explain everything to you. I want you to spend a few hours per day in the gallery to study the collection and-” Alistair gasped for air as it disappeared from his lungs.

Tavish turned his head to see Sophia enter the restaurant, smiling, totally at ease, on Ethan’s arm. In a flash, he put a heavy hand on Alistair’s shoulder, stopping him from raising from his chair, “Don’t.”

“She told me she couldn’t have lunch with me,” his breath wheezed from his mouth and he rubbed a hand over his heart, as if in pain, “because she had a lot of work to do.”

“And who said this isn’t work?”

“With Ashford? What could she possibly have to discuss with him? He produces steel, she deals with oil.”

Alistair’s face darkened and he tried to raise again, but Tavish shoved him down.

“He is her ex-lover,” Alistair hissed at Tavish.

“Easy, Brother. Don’t make hasty judgements. She’s-”

“Can’t you see with your own eyes?”

“All I can see is two people having lunch together. Don’t jump to conclusions. They won’t see us from where we are. Calm down. You’ll see there’s no reason to be suspicious.”

“Very well.” He picked up the bottle of whisky and poured himself a good dram. Drinking it in a gulp, he raised his empty glass. “Let’s drink to-” Another betrayal.

“Stop it, Alistair Connor. Stop it right now.” Tavish breathed deep and stared at his brother. “I have to tell you something.”

The way Tavish said this made Alistair stiffen on his chair. He put his glass with a thump on the table, his fingers narrowing around it. “What?” Oh, please, don’t let it be what I’m thinking.

“I have a confession to make.” Tavish’s lips quirked up when Alistair relaxed on the chair. “Remember the day you, Alice and Leo walked in on the two of us at the pool, at Craigdale?”

“Aye,” Alistair clenched his teeth so tight that he thought he might break them.

Tavish pushed his artichoke salad around his plate, before saying, “I confronted Sophia. I thought she was another Heather.”

“She slapped you.”

“Aye. With reason.”

“She never mentioned it again. She accepted whatever lame apologies you gave. And I... I let it go. You and I had already had too many... differences to work out, so... You know.” He waved his hand in the air. “What happened?”

“Alistair Connor,” Tavish exhaled loudly. “To be brief, first I said she was like... your other women. Then I said that even if she didn’t need your money, she wanted your status. Continuing to fuck things up, I stated that she wanted you just to substitute Gabriela’s father. And to top it off, I told her that she was a coward, and that she was ogling me, trying to get me in her bed with you.”

“Je-sus,” Alistair murmured, slowly. “Jesus. Mary. And Joseph. A slap was... too little.” He was astonished. Like my other women? What did Tavish Uilleam tell Sophia, for Christ’s sake?

“She rebuked me. Elegantly violent. She reminded me... of Mother.”

“She reminds you of our mother?” Alistair’s eyes were glued on Sophia and Ethan’s table.

“Not her looks, Alistair Connor. She has principles, morals. I observed her the whole weekend. First, I was too wary. But Alice and Leo convinced me to try with kinder eyes. She is an exceptional woman: gentle, extremely polite, intelligent, she defends her positions fiercely and she seems innocent. Not like a stupid virgin girl, if they still exist, but as a young woman should be.”

Alistair helped himself to some more whisky, thinking about what his brother had said. There could be no greater praise than comparing Sophia to their mother.

But what is she doing here with Ashford? He drank his whisky and crossed his silverware on his barely touched lobster. He wasn’t hungry anymore. He drank the rest of the whisky in his glass, filling it again. “Why did she lie to me?”

“You’re going to get drunk,” Tavish reprimanded. “What did she tell you?”

“Here. See for yourself,” Alistair fished his iPhone from his inner suit pocket and showed the messages to his brother.

Tavish’s sea green eyes scanned the messages as he ate his artichokes, and he shrugged, “There’s nothing here that leads to the conclusion she lied to you. Just wait and see.”

Chapter 5

“I think I’m going to be sick,” said Alistair, green with jealousy and distrust. “They’ve just toasted with Cristal.”

Tavish chuckled, “For Lord’s sake, Alistair Connor, they are clearly celebrating something. A business transaction, for sure.”

“They were lovers.” Alistair wanted to shout. He wanted to punch Ethan on the nose. He wanted to drag Sophia by her long hair to the nearest hotel and have furious sex with her. Alistair leveled Tavish with a dark look. “And you are enjoying this.”

“You don’t know how much. In fact, let me tell you, I’m very intrigued by her. And by this new behavior of yours. Just because she is beautiful and hot-”

Christ! That’s it. Sophia is mine. Mine. “Enough.” He wanted to bang his fist on the table, instead he thumped the glass, avoiding a scene. “You’re messing with fire, Tavish Uilleam. It’s dangerous.”

Tavish chuckled darkly and tilted his head to the side, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “You’re jealous. You’re jealous of Sophia.”

“Aye, I am. Is this what you want to hear? I’ve never been this jealous in my whole life.” He took a long drink of his whisky. The bottle was rapidly getting empty. Alistair didn’t like the darkness rolling through him. Not at all.

“The mighty Alistair Connor is jealous. Of course I am enjoying it. This is good.” Tavish chuckled. He leaned over, and in a murmur, he flung his blade deep in Alistair’s soul, “Thing is, Alistair Connor, you’ve never cared enough to be jealous, have you? Even with Heather. Admit it. You were too self-centered, a cold bastard.”

“Why are you doing this, Tavish Uilleam?” A haunted look simmered in Alistair’s eyes for a split second, the pupils vivid black against emerald green irises, before he schooled his features back into his usual blank mask. “It won’t do you any good to strip me bare.” Tavish’s words hit the part of him that for a long time he pretended didn’t exist, but he didn’t back off from his brother’s challenge. “Let me tell you one thing. I might have been a cold bastard, and in some cases, I still am. But I love Sophia. I love her. As I’ve never loved any other woman before.”

3.18 p.m.

“I think it’s a beautiful idea, Ethan. Really.” Sophia frowned, her mind trying to work out the difficulties of what Ethan proposed. “But I’m sure you know the challenges of setting something like this up in China-”

“Sophia,” Ethan put his hand over hers, interrupting her, “off the record, one of my directors told me, last month, that babies, especially rejected baby girls, are being killed to make thousands of pills of what they call a medicinal ‘cure-all’ pill. The pills are filled with powdered human flesh and are being smuggled to nearby countries.”

Sophia gasped, her big eyes darkening at the horrid image, “My God. How is this possible?”

“Chinese medicine has its merits, but there are still some deep-rooted superstitions. You know that there is a huge demand for alternative Chinese remedies, which include ground up rhinoceros horns and dried shark fins. The Chinese have been known to consume human placentas to improve blood supply and circulation.”

Sophia put a hand over her mouth in disgust, grimacing, “Oh, please. We are in the twenty-first century.”

“Have you ever been to China or the Koreas?” Sophia shook her head and Ethan drank his champagne, before continuing, “There are still some provinces that are very poor. And they are very corrupt.”

“But surely... not children. Little baby girls... This is absurd.” Sophia were nauseated by the mere thought of horns and fins as a supposed vitamin, she beyond abhorred the idea of powered baby flesh.

“It’s illegal to kill newborn babies in the country, nonetheless female infanticide and the failure to report female births is widely suspected, especially in rural areas. They are being used, Sophia. There is a huge demand for these wretched pills which are thought to enhance stamina. Microwave-dried placenta is also sought after for its, quote unquote, medicinal benefits.”

“But Ethan, human flesh contains bacteria and other harmful components that can spread terrible diseases. Surely the people making these pills know the harm they can cause.”

“Indeed. However, that nasty trade makes a lot of money, Sophia. It’s being run from China where corrupt medical staff are working with medical companies to give them aborted fetuses and stillborn babies. And there are gangs that are specialized in collecting and killing abandoned baby girls and selling them to make these drugs.” A grim and pained look came over Ethan’s face. “In order to keep its population down, more than thirteen million abortions are performed in China each year.”

“More than thirteen million? Are you sure?” Sophia raked her hand in her hair, more and more repulsed by what Ethan told her.

“Yeah, I’ve asked for thorough research to be done. The abortions happen mostly because mothers sacrifice their newborns to avoid punishment such as severe fines or even beatings by the authorities.”

“Beatings?” Sophia whispered. “I knew about the fines, but beatings?”

“Yes, beatings and worse. Have you heard about the Chinese,” he made quotes in the air, “dying rooms?”

“No,” Sophia shook her head and her hair bounced around her, spilling over her shoulder.

Ethan pushed a lock behind her ear. “The reports I’ve seen are disturbing. Many babies are left to perish in these notorious rooms. Deliberately left to die because they were born into families that already had the limit of one child in country areas.” His beautiful, but troubled eyes bore down on hers and his hand again covered hers, “Sophia, a child doesn’t ask to be made or born and should be protected from every harm. Any harm.”

“Oh, Ethan.” As Sophia looked into his azure eyes, she could see how deeply he had been affected by the damage his dysfunctional parents had done to him. She put her hand over his and squeezed. “You can count on me. But I think we should expand the project to include the mothers. And, eventually, the families. One way or another. Without creating difficulties for Ashford Steel with the Chinese Government, of course.”

“Do as you wish. Present a new and broader project, if you think it will better suit my ideas. I want this project to flourish, Sophia. And I know I’m putting my trust in good hands.”

She breathed deep and squeezed his hand once again, promising, “I won’t disappoint you, Ethan. Mrs. Chanda is extremely competent and I’ll ask her to conduct extensive research and planning to include the mothers.”

Alistair choked on his whisky when he saw Sophia put her hand over Ethan’s, jealousy corroding his insides. He furrowed his brow in concentration as he tried to hear their conversation now that the restaurant was almost empty, but they were too far apart.

“Alistair Connor, stop. Just stop,” Tavish admonished. “Can I give you some advice?”

“Aye,” Alistair shrugged, his eyes glued to Sophia’s table.

“If Heather hadn’t-” He stopped himself before he confessed he knew about the betrayal. “Fuck, Alistair Connor! Look at me.”

Alistair moved his head slowly and stared at his brother’s eyes. “I’m looking. Say your piece.”

“Sift your memory and tell me about your feelings on the good and bad moments you’ve had with Sophia.”

Alistair’s frown deepened. “The bad?” Fuck. I can’t tell you, Tavish Uilleam. I can’t tell you that she is wearing scarfs and chokers around her neck because I hurt her.

“Nothing bad?” he snorted. “Aye, I forgot. You’re the mighty Alistair Connor. Always perfect. Then, tell me the good ones.”

Perfect? Far from it. “Why do you want to know?”

Tavish leaned over the table and fixed Alistair with his turbulent gaze. “Because I want you to keep in mind that a single impulsive and ill-advised act from you can destroy everything you’ve done until now.”

Alistair nonchalantly leaned on his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that so?”

“Aye. It seems to me, a very different type of woman has gotten under your skin.” Tavish turned his head to study Sophia and Ethan. “Look at her. She’s naturally elegant and innocently sensuous. She doesn’t flash sexy smiles or smoldering stares. She is... fresh.”

Fresh. White roses and orange with a touch of vanilla. Alistair stared at Sophia as he analyzed Tavish’s words. His words kept hammering in his head. Impulsive and ill-advised. He should have learned from the consequences of that awful Saturday. His anger cooled down. Alistair breathed deeply and looked at Tavish, troubled. “Why did you just say that?”

“Because you looked like you where ready to murder Ashford and-” He halted in time. The thought that Alistair could hurt Sophia made him feel sick.

“And?” Alistair rose his eyebrow.

Tavish looked at his brother’s face gauging if he should say what he was thinking and decided it was not a wise move. “She has you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

You were going to say something completely different from that, Tavish Uilleam. “Aye,” Alistair nodded. Where is this going?

“And you want her to feel the same way, don’t you?” Alistair nodded. “So. The easiest way to have her wrapped around your finger, which she clearly isn’t,” Tavish almost regretted saying that as a pained look flickered on Alistair’s face, “is to entreat her with sweets. Chocolate, flowers and sweet words do wonders to women. But harsh words and... male chauvinist behavior...” Tavish shook his head, grimacing. “Times have changed. Women are not property. Even in Medieval times, when they were considered as such, women never liked being humiliated. Unless, of course, they were sick. Which I can bet Sophia isn’t.”

Jesus Christ! Alistair closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. In that second, he realized he was thinking exactly what Tavish didn’t speak out loud. “Thanks, Brother.”

“Any time, Alistair Connor. Any time.” Tavish just wondered if his brother would ever talk with him about Heather’s betrayal. “Now, let me tell about what I was slaving away at yesterday in Scotland, while you were here enjoying a beautiful woman.”

3.29 p.m.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” Sophia raised and Ethan rose, too, helping her with her chair.

As soon as she left the table, she took out her iPhone from her purse and started typing a message to Alistair. As she entered the lady’s toilet, she touched ‘send’. Suddenly she felt relieved.

She emitted a strangled scream when big hands snatched her and pressed her flush against a hard body.

An arm snaked around her waist.

Her telephone and her purse fell on the floor as her hands flattened against a broad chest.

Her eyes flew wide open and she stared into Alistair’s forest green eyes, as his unyielding mouth descended on hers.

This man is utterly crazy. She blinked a few times as he locked the door and pressed her onto the wall. Oh! And how I love his craziness.

She melted under his bold caresses and her lips softened in subconscious invitation, humming in his mouth, her hands raising on their own accord to plunge into his hair as she paired his passionate kiss, pressing her breasts to his chest.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He tightened his hold on her. He growled deep in his throat and trapped her, deepening the kiss, his hand searching for the ties of her dress, opening it. He wanted to take her there in the bathroom. He wanted her to go back to Ethan after he had given her a glorious orgasm.

A hard and fast climax. Remind her whom she belongs to, Alistair Connor. He tangled his fingers in her hair, nudging her thighs open with his leg, his fingers coaxing a quick response from her.

She parted for him instantly. She let out a moan, as she slipped her arm around his neck, holding him tighter, raising a knee. to wind her leg around his hips, deepening the kiss, her hand searching for his trousers. He hardened even more as she opened his zipper and pushed his pants and underwear down, gripping his arousal in her hand. He brushed her panties to the side and entered her with two fingers while the heel of his hand pressed on her clitoris. She moaned again and pressed down on his hand.

In unison, they increased their pace and Alistair felt a primitive and savage pride fill him as Sophia came, biting down his lip to avoid shouting. He felt his own pleasure peak to its zenith.

Fuck. I’m going to spill in her hand. The thought sobered him, and he tore away from the kiss and her hand, panting, shoving his hard erection inside his underwear and adjusting his clothes.

“Alistair. Connor.” Sophia gasped for air, eyes closed, leaning boneless on the wall. “That was. Good,” she breathed.

He gathered her in his arms and she leaned on his body, sighing, happy and sated.

After a few moments, she opened her clear eyes and asked, “What are you doing here?”

Alistair remembered why he was there and tersely studied her slightly flushed face for a long moment, passing judgment. Not guilty. There isn’t an ounce of guilt in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Here? I... Well,” she bit her lip for a second and blushed. “Whatever a person does in the toilet, Alistair Connor. What are you doing lurking in the lady’s room?”

Alistair couldn’t help being spellbound by Sophia’s blush. He relaxed a bit and the corners of his lips curled upward, “I couldn’t resist. I saw you coming in and...” He shrugged and breathed deep trying to control his raging lust. I wanted to fuck you in the bathroom and teach you a lesson. And I almost did.

Sophia leaned on him, lifting her face to him, her arms winding around his waist and she chuckled lazily, “You’re really insane, you know? In the ladies’ bathroom? Of a restaurant?”

He dipped his head and spoke on her lips, “With you, Sophia, I’ll do it anywhere. Everywhere.” He brushed his mouth against hers, in a light caress as he flexed his hips on her soft belly, showing her how much he was aroused. “You drive me crazy.”

She smiled at him and combed his hair with her fingers. “I didn’t see you coming in the restaurant. Are you alone?”

“No,” he breathed on her lips, wondering if he should finish what he had started. “I was already here. I’m with Tavish Uilleam.”

“Oh. I didn’t see you. Or Tavish, by the way.” How could I miss these two hot hunks?

“Indeed. Maybe you were...” Busy celebrating and holding Ashford’s hand. “Distracted.”

“Working. I’m with Ethan. He’s making a huge contribution to my foundation and wanted to discuss it with me.”

“Ah. I see.” I’ll make a contribution too. He searched her eyes, scrutinizing her guileless expression in search of something that would give her away.

“I’ll tell you all about it later. And your contract? Signed?”

“Aye,” he nodded, still looking for some sign that she could be hiding something.

“Well then, do you mind stepping outside so I can use the toilet?” she asked, raising an elegant eyebrow at him.

I mind. I want to take you right here. Right now. I want to take you home and ravish you so you will think of nothing else, but my love for you. His hand narrowed his grip on her nape. The velvet of her chocker reminded him to treat her gently and his arm around her waist loosened his hold on her as he heaved like a drowning man. I have to control these ridiculous feelings. They are poisoning me.

“Alistair Connor?”

His name, softly spoken, took him out of his delirious state. He shook his head hard, irritated with himself.

Sophia combed his hair back, enchanted by the silky feel against her fingers. Will I ever get enough of this man?

“Aye?”

“Is everything okay?”

He inhaled and exhaled loudly, resting his forehead on hers. “No, Sophia, it’s not.” I’m dying of lust, of jealousy. I want you now.

She looked down at his tenting fly. “Are you...? Can I... help?”

Aye, you can give me a blow job. “Nae, I’ll be okay,” he shook his head again and thinned his lips. I’m a fucking idiot. I have to control this lust. His iPhone vibrated again in his inner pocket and he took it out. His mouth dropped open when he saw the message on the screen.

3.30. Beauty: ‘I’m having a business lunch with Ethan. I wish it were with you.’

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to think.

“Something wrong?”

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and shook his head at her. He couldn’t resist and embraced her fiercely, whispering on her ear, “I love you, you know?”

“Mmm,” she purred and lightly pushed him away. “Move, Alistair Connor. I need to use the toilet.”

“Come by my table on your way out, okay? I’m next to the column.” He bent and picked up her iPhone and purse, putting them on the small bench behind him.

“Okay. Incidentally,” she licked her swollen lips, “that was the best surprise of my life, Alistair Connor.”

He smirked at her, bent his head for a quick kiss and left the toilet with a light heart and a painful hard-on.

“Brother, you are incorrigible,” Tavish couldn’t contain his laughter anymore after Sophia left their table strolling through the restaurant with her head in the clouds.

Notwithstanding his arousal, Alistair was satisfied that Sophia had a dreamlike smile on her rosier face and that her eyes twinkled yellow diamond. He smiled smugly. “Tavish Uilleam, I couldn’t let her return to Ashford’s table without reminding her who is her man.”

Tavish threw his head back and laughed again. He wiped his eyes and looked at his older brother, not believing his ears. “Her man?” he chuckled. “Me, Tarzan. You, Jane. Pound your fists on your chest and roar, go on.”

Alistair grinned at his brother and said, “I can guarantee she liked it, Tavish Uilleam.”

“Alistair Connor, since Sophia entered your life, I’ve been having too much fun. I don’t know who is crazier: you or her.” Tavish shook his head slowly, flabbergasted.

“There’s no doubt, I win.” And he looked at the beautiful woman he called his and smiled devilishly, “But, she’s a fast learner. The way things are going, I can promise you she is going to be just as adventurous as I am.”

Tavish chuckled, “God help us then.”

Alistair grinned at his brother, “Amen.”

In the sky, over Northumberland County.

Friday, March 19th, 2010.

4.07 p.m.

Alistair looked down at the face of the woman beside him, and leaned over, kissing her soft and plump lips. “Sophia, love, wake up. We are almost there. I want you to see Ells Hall from above.”

“Mmm, I wasn’t sleeping,” she said, stretching her arms in front of her.

“I noticed.” He chuckled, “Your snores were-”

She slapped his thigh, “Hey. I don’t snore.”

Please, hit me again. “No, you don’t,” he shook his head, smiling. “But you talk. A lot.”

Sophia felt ice sift through her bones. “I. Talked. What did I say?”

Alistair studied Sophia’s suddenly pale face. What the fuck?

Distrust instantly elbowed his way into his mind. “Nothing intelligible. Why? Do you have something to hide?”

Oh. Thank God. Relief flooded her and she glanced out the helicopter windows. “Hide?” She let out a fake laugh. “Nothing. I have nothing to hide.”

He thinned his lips trying to control that surge of anger that filled him. More secrets, Sophia? “Why are you always hiding and lying, Sophia?”

She froze and peered at him through the corner of her eyes, her lashes lowered. Bad move. Bad move, Sophia. Her cold hand settled over his, but his strained expression didn’t soften. Sophia sighed. “Alistair, my dear. Please. Don’t be angry. There are things in my past that I still don’t understand and that scare the hell out of me. Things I’m sure I’d be better off not remembering.”

He inhaled and exhaled loudly. And his green eyes blistered her, “I don’t like secrets, Sophia. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts, the truth is always preferable.”

Oh, my dear, I can assure you, it’s not. My secrets are so dark they will drive you away.

He put his other hand over hers and said, “I’m not easily scared, Sophia. I’d rather know than stay in the dark. Sooner or later, I’ll know everything about you.” Even if you don’t tell me yourself. He pulled his hands away from hers and, crossing his arms over his chest, turned to look out the panoramic windows.

She enlaced her fingers and put her hands in her lap. “Please, Alistair, don’t be mad. It makes me feel so damaged not to remember everything.”

The soft confession deepened the frown on his brow. Fuck. I did it again. He stayed in silence for a few moments before saying, “Every time you retreat into one of your secrets, I feel excluded, lied to. I don’t like the feeling. I’ve been lied to too often in my life. Don’t ever lie to me, Sophia. Please.”

Maybe one day. Maybe one day I will find the courage to tell you everything. “I will never lie to you, Alistair Connor. That’s a promise.”

“Never lie...” he mused. And blurted, “But will you omit things, Sophia?”

How can he read me so well? “I don’t understand your fixation with my past.”

He closed his eyes for a brief second, “Heather had a very dark past, Sophia. Not that I’m saying you have one too. But I don’t do secrets. You can trust me.”

I’m not sure if I can trust myself. “Please, try to understand. I’m not hiding anything from you. I trust you, I told you that. But... I need a little more time... I need to... Before I tell you things, I need to fully understand them myself.”

“I see. So, let me be blunt.” Alistair’s face was taut and his eyes were dark as he loomed over Sophia. “I don’t give second chances. If I find out you’re lying or hiding something from me purposely, we’re done,” he slashed his hands in the air. “Kaput.”

Uh? Are you threatening me? “Alistair Connor. Don’t pressure me. You really have to work out these feelings. You should see a shrink.”

A shrink? I should call Baptist and see if he has news for me. He stared at her for a long time. Her steadiness, not wavering from his penetrating gaze, made him feel secure again. They were silent until Ells Hall appeared on the horizon. Alistair turned to her and pointed to her right, “Look down there.”

“Wow!” Sophia whispered and glanced at him surprised. “It’s wonderful.”

“My parents gave me Ells Hall and Airgead Caisteal when I got married. I will show it all to you. It may look stark and foreboding from the outside, but inside the staterooms are full of art and furniture, collected over the years by generations of the MacCraig family. Even though it is grand, we’ve tried to soften it with the fountains, lake and the gardens.”

His Mercedes helicopter landed softly in a clearing. Alistair gave brief instructions to the pilot for the two flights the following day, which would bring Gabriela, her nanny Maria, Ariadne and Lachlann and then Alice, Leonard and Tavish.

They walked hand-in-hand to the black Phantom Rolls-Royce that was waiting for them with a liveried driver, next to the landing area.

“Lord Ells, it’s good to see you again, sir. Ma’am.” A warm smile wrinkled the features of driver further. “Good afternoon.”

“Erskine,” Alistair put a hand over the driver’s shoulder, saying, “this is my girlfriend, Sophia Leibowitz.”

Surprise flickered on the old man’s face at the mention of a girlfriend and his faded blue eyes brightened suddenly. He composed himself swiftly, only Sophia who was looking at him noticed.

“Sophia, this is Erskine. He taught me everything I know about cars. He has been honing my tastes since I was a kid.”

Sophia stretched her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Erskine. I’m a fan of cars, too.”

“My pleasure, Ms. Leibowitz. Welcome to Ells Hall.” He opened the door for them and stored their luggage in the trunk.

The car entered a long and shaded alley with ancient oaks planted in a row on both sides, and stopped just before it reached the end, when Alistair asked Erskine to do so.

She raised her brows at Alistair, who gripped her hand, opening the door and pulling her after him. “Come. I want to show you something.” He exited the car and waited for her to join him. “Close your eyes,” he ordered.

She looked around, searching the woods for a clue of what he wanted to show her, “Here?”

His arms went around her waist and he dropped his head to lightly kiss her lips. “Please?”

“Okay,” she acquiesced and squeaked as he picked her up in his arms. “What are you doing?”

“Keep your eyes closed.” He walked a few steps and lowered her on the ground, flush to his body. As he put his arms around her and bending, placed his chin on her shoulder, he said, “You can open them now.”

“Oh, my,” she breathed. “It is... It’s the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen.”

The house was set in expansive fields with groups of trees scattered around and a forest behind it. Facing the entrance, was an incredible cascade of water which flowed from a set of fountains above.

“The waterfall, the fountains... It’s so charming.” She craned her neck to look up at his face. A big smile graced his features and his eyes twinkled. It was easy to see he was proud of Ells Hall.

“The waterfall has cut steps, each slightly different and with a variety of textures. You can hear different sounds as the water cascades down them. Look there,” he pointed to where it ended in a lake. Two pairs of swans, one white and one black, glided elegantly over the midnight blue surface.

She turned in his arms and plunged her hands in his hair. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him on the mouth. “I could live here, if it were nearer London.” She looked back again over her shoulder, absolutely enchanted by the sight the house and the gardens provided. “How could you think I would not love it?”

He grimaced. “Heather never liked it. Alas, it’s always been one of my favorite houses. It became my refuge in England in the last months of my marriage.” The capricious wind toyed with his bangs and he absentmindedly pushed them aside, his eyes glued to the sight in front of him.

“When you were married...” she whispered. Oh, Alistair. Marriage is supposed to be the refuge.

His eyes slowly searched hers and he squeezed her tightly in his arms, a dark shadow clouding his rugged face.

London, Mayfair. Heather and Alistair’s Apartment.

Friday, November 30th, 2007.

10.13 p.m.

Alistair emerged from the bathroom in a plain white T-shirt and pajama shorts only to stop mid-stride, when he saw Heather sitting in the armchair wearing a tight short black dress and red spiked Louboutin stilettos. What the hell?

“Aren’t you going?” she blinked, naïvely, at his attire.

“Where?”

“To Emma’s party. She’s waiting for us. It’s her thirtieth birthday, honey.”

Emma? He rubbed a hand on his nape. I must have missed the invitation. “Heather. I just got home from work. I’m very tired. Can we skip it?”

She pursed her lips in a pout and twisted a lock of her blonde hair around her finger. “You know what? You are not fun anymore.”

Just because we haven’t been having wild, violent sex this year? “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I can’t drink while taking antibiotics, Heather. And I’m really beat, this week has been rough. You go. Kiss Emma for me.”

Heather demurely picked up her purse from her lap and stood up, “Oh, honey. I’ll miss you.” She kissed Alistair on the cheek. “I’m going to take the Porsche, all right?”

“Aye. Have fun.” Alistair looked at her retreating back, missing the victorious smile that had opened on Heather’s face.

A loneliness permeated his soul and he walked to his daughter’s room, softly opening the door and dimming the lights up a bit. The sight of the sleeping toddler in the bed soothed him.

He sat on the bed beside her and brushed his fingers in her hair, deep in thought. Doctor Lodes’s advice hadn’t left his mind, ‘Get rid of Heather’. But how could he do it, if just the thought of not seeing Nathalie every morning and every night made his heart ache?

Chapter 6

Northumberland. Ells Hall.

Friday, March 19th, 2010.

5.07 p.m.

As Erskine drove along the estate, Alistair continued to point out the different buildings and talking about the rooms, explaining the modifications his ancestors and, later, his parents and himself had made along the years. “When my father inherited it everything was rewired, the plumbing and heating were modernized, and he added bathrooms in all the bedrooms. The old and cavernous kitchen near the dining hall was remodeled and a smaller one was built closer to the family dining room. And, recently, I built a spa in the garden at the back of the main building. You’ll like it. It’s more modern and refined than Craigdale’s.”

A liveried man opened the car door and she stepped out, craning her neck to admire the impressive house.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Alistair paused behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, looking at the manor too.

“It’s fantastic.” The same coat of arms she had seen on a flag at the heliport was blazoned in stone over the tall portico’s façade. It featured a shield with two horses rampant facing each other separated by an armored knight holding a sword in front of him. Beneath it, a wide stone ribbon bore an etched heraldry inscription: ‘Veritas vos liberabit’.

It took but a moment for Sophia to translate. “Truth will set free?” Oh, damn.

“The family motto. One I fiercely believe.” His fingers kneaded her shoulders. He bent his head down and whispered in her ear, “I’ve booked a massage to relax you.”

She whirled and put her arms around his waist. “I don’t need a massage to relax.” She flexed her shoulders. “I’m relaxed.”

He smiled. “Believe me, you’ll need it after I’m through with you.”

“You pervert,” she slapped his butt. “You’d better book one for you too.” She laughed mischievously. “Don’t you forget that I’m younger-”

His mouth cut off her words in an intense and lustful kiss that left her panting, before he said, “And I’m stronger, lass. Better watch your mouth.”

She laughed again and gave him a kiss on the lips, “Never, my lord, never. It’s so much fun to provoke you. Come on, we are providing a show for your guests and employees.”

“Hmm,” he gripped her slim waist keeping her in place and looked into her eyes. “I think I’ll cancel that massage and give you one myself. Right now.”

“Do you only think about sex?”

“When I am with you? Aye,” he confirmed, unabashedly. “I can’t get enough.”

“If you behave,” she smiled and, standing on her tiptoes, murmured in his ear, “I have a surprise for you tonight.”

His eyes flamed, “I love surprises. Come, I want to show you a few of the rooms before we go to the gym.” He put his arm over her shoulder and started for the doors.

She looked around the majestic hall. “It’s so grand, Alistair.”

“Aye. I love Ells Hall. Let me warn you,” he said as he climbed the stairs to the first floor and turned left into a small corridor, dramatically paneled in black and gold damask silk, “so you don’t have a shock.”

“What?” She smiled at his teasing bow when he opened the last door and she entered the anteroom of the master chamber. It was paneled with oak and had walls hung with ancient tapestries. To the right, through an open door, Sophia could see striking antique furniture composing a small dining area.

“I don’t have OCD. So don’t expect my dressing-” He laughed as she slapped his biceps.

“Stop teasing. I don’t have OCD.”

“Maybe something worse, then?” his grin was positively naughty. He directed her to another door that lead to the enormous bedroom. “Through here.”

The bedroom was sumptuous and testified to tradition and power. On the floor, an enormous Persian rug gave the room even more grandeur. It was unlike any Sophia had ever seen, covering the floor entirely. Near the windows, there was a seating space with what looked like comfortable but very old armchairs and a sofa facing a large Regency secretaire library bookcase.

Against the farthest wall, an enormous four poster bed with a gothic headboard, lavishly draped with embroidered black and gold velvet, completed the dramatic ambient.

“My, Alistair Connor.” Sophia stopped in front of the bed. “How many can sleep in here?” She looked at him over her shoulder, “It would comfortably fit you, Tavish Uilleam and your father together.”

Why? Do you want them too? He shooed the thought away and focused on her question. “This bed was commissioned by my great-great-grandfather for his wedding night. He and his wife were both unusually tall and large so they needed space to-”

She whirled around, and slapped his arm again. “Spare me the details.”

When she looked at him, he wasn’t smiling any more. A strange expression lit his face.

Sophia stepped back.

“What?” she breathed.

“You like to hit, don’t you?” He grabbed her upper arms, hauling her flush to his body. He asked in a smooth voice, “Do you like to be hit too?”

“I... I don’t know what you mean.” The pain and violence thing again. “I was just playing around.”

I would love to introduce you to a few new games, Sophia. He sucked on her lower lip before saying, “Sophia. Beware of what you propose as a... recreation. I may like it.”

Sophia stared at him, openmouthed and breathless. She didn’t know what to say or what to think.

Hmm. Should I introduce you to them today? Alistair felt a rush of desire fill him as he thought about the possibility of having Sophia under his control and kissed her with such force that they tasted blood as his teeth bit Sophia’s lip.

She gasped and broke the kiss, putting her fingers on her mouth. When she drew them away they were bloodied. She stared at them for what seemed like an eternity to Alistair, as he waited for her reaction.

“You like it, don’t you?” she whispered so low that he had to strain to hear her.

Slowly, he released her upper arms and wound her hair around his hand, lightly tugging it to make her look into his eyes. “What?”

But her eyes were glued to her reddened fingers as she murmured, “This pain and violence thing. You really like it, don’t you?”

And you, Sophia? Do you like it? “Look at me,” he ordered and she lifted her eyelids. “I told you I did.”

“How much-”

“The amount that is pleasurable to the partner.”

“Partner...” she breathed. Dammit. Here I go again. Stop it, Sophia. Stop. It. Say you don’t like pain. Say it!

“You, Sophia. You’re my partner. If it’s not pleasurable for you, then it’s not for me.” His other hand pressed on her butt, making her feel his arousal at the idea. “Do you want to do it again?”

Sophia’s heart was beating so fast that she felt dizzy. She was hypnotized by how the green of his eyes had darkened and how his voice had turned husky. She opened her mouth to say ‘no’ but a strangled moan left her throat.

His breath hitched and, as he lowered his head to kiss her again, a knock sounded on the outer door.

“Fuck,” he muttered low. Shaking his head, he said, “We are going to take a rain check on this conversation, Sophia.”

“Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, breathlessly.

“That way,” he pointed to the far door, as he went to open the door for the bellboy with their luggages.

Sophia pushed the door open and found another huge room that served as a walk-in dressing room. It had a dramatically painted ceiling. She noted, pleasantly surprised, that his closet was perfectly organized. Separated by a floor-to-ceiling glass wall, there was a gothic chapel-like bathroom with a shower room and an adjoining whirlpool bath to one side and on the other, a double sink with a vanity space with gilded mirrored gothic panelling. In a corner there was another door, that she supposed was the toilet.

Dark and elegant... As he is. She mused as she looked around.

She sat on the chair in front of the mirror, observing her own pale face and slightly swollen lip.

She saw as he entered the dressing room with her small suitcase and his bag.

He glanced at her face and dropped the luggage on the floor in the middle of the room.

Oh, fuck. With three long strides, he was by her side, hauling her into his arms. “Don’t freak out. I’m not going to hurt you. Never.”

“I don’t understand this fascination of yours,” she whispered. “And I don’t know if I want to understand.”

“There’s no rush.” He put a hand at the back of her head and brought it to his chest. Don’t freak out. Please, don’t freak out.

Sophia could hear his heart galloping. Is he... scared?

As if to answer her unspoken question, he murmured on her hair, “Your face was so pale... You frightened me.”

She moved her head to look into his eyes, and ran her hands over his broad shoulders until they cupped his face. “I was... stunned at your reaction and-” Say it, dammit. “Afraid. I don’t want to-” be covered in black-and-blue bruises again.

“I’m not...” he exhaled loudly. He sat on the chair and pulled her onto his lap. “Sophia, on our first night together, I tied, blindfolded and hit you. What part of that didn’t you like?”

Remembering the sensations and sifting them, Sophia bit her lip and stifled a wince.

“Don’t,” he breathed, caressing her lip with his thumb. “It arouses me.”

She nervously licked her lip.

And he tsked twice, “That only makes it worse.”

Damn. What’s your problem, Alistair Connor? “Should we turn off the lights then?”

A low laugh left his chest with a rumble, “Nae.” He shook his head amused. “I prefer to make love with the lights on.”

“We are not making love. We’re having a conversation... Or, at least, we are trying to.”

He flashed her a crooked grin, “Okay. So, talk.”

“What I didn’t like...” she repeated thoughtfully and looked down at her hands. “Well. I didn’t like it when you hit my thighs. And... But-”

“And? But?” He gripped her chin and made her look at him. An amused glint gleamed in the depths of his green eyes. “Are you shy- Ashamed to tell me what you like?”

“I’m not used to having this kind of conversation, Alistair Connor.”

“No?” His brows lifted. “Didn’t you talk about sex with Gabriel?”

She blinked at the question. “No. We made love like other people, nor-”

“Normal people?” He smiled.

You and your big mouth, Sophia. “Yes. What was there to talk about?”

His smile grew. “Lots of things. You were inexperienced, weren’t you?” She nodded, confirming. “Well, then. What you like most. Where do you prefer to be kissed. What arouses you. Things, Sophia, that only enhance pleasure. How am I to know what you prefer? I’m not telepathic. You have to tell me as I’ll tell you.”

“You are doing great so far.”

“Thanks,” he smirked at her and she rolled her eyes upward. His smile only grew and he continued, “But I really want to hear you. So. You don’t like that I hit you on the thighs. What else?”

“This is so awkward.” She tried to move her head, but her chin was firmly gripped in his fingers and he instantly put the other arm around her body. Enough, Sophia. You are a lawyer. You can face this. She breathed deep. “All right. The first time you hit me, it wasn’t bad. I think it’s okay, if it’s just a slap or two in bed. Teasing. But the next slaps were on my thighs, and...”

Oh... Understanding dawned on him. “And on your clit?”

She blushed. “I appreciate your candor, Alistair Connor.” He almost laughed. “Yes, I liked it. But they were... Err... Softer and fewer. As long as it is just for pleasure and it doesn’t hurt.”

“The ties and the blindfold?” His eyes searched hers.

She shrugged, “It was my first time. It’s okay, I guess.”

“Okay? A good okay?”

Sophia blinked a few times before answering softly, “Yes. A good okay. But not every night. And... And, since we are talking about it, you know what I found weird? That need that you have to be reassured. As if I could be thinking about another-”

His fingers stopped the rest of her reasoning, and he whispered, resting his forehead on hers. “Don’t say it, please.”

She kissed the fingers resting on her mouth and enlaced them with hers.

“Don’t you know how intense you are? No woman would think about another man while with you, Alistair. You fill the entire space with your presence. And I don’t mean it only physically. You command the eye.” And the heart.

I wish. He lifted his head to stare at her beautiful face and gave her a sad smile, “Do you know that I love you?”

The City of London Bank Headquarters.

Wednesday, May 21st, 2008.

7.55 p.m.

“Good evening, Baptist. I was waiting for you.” Alistair opened his office door and welcomed the burly man in.

“Good evening, Mr. MacCraig. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last.”

“Please, sit,” Alistair motioned to the sofa and sat in his favorite armchair that faced the view of the river.

Baptist handed Alistair a large brown file. “This is what I gathered in the last few days, but if you want me to take a deeper look...”

Alistair felt his mouth dry, suddenly. I need a whisky. He snapped opened the folder and took out the first set of photos. His heart stopped in his chest as he flipped through them.

Nae.

He glanced up to look at Baptist. The man had a sympathetic look on his face.

Alistair cleared his throat.

He opened and closed his mouth twice but the words didn’t come.

“Mr. MacCraig, I’m sorry but there is no doubt. Your wife is cheating on you.”

Ells Hall.

Friday, March 19th, 2010.

7.44 p.m.

“I’ve put the girls and Maria in that room,” Alistair pointed to a door on the other side of the corridor as they came back from the spa. “It connects with Alice’s bedroom. So, if they need something, they can bother her.”

Sophia dried her nape with a small towel as she tsked twice, walking beside him to see the room. “So, Alice is Gabriela’s new mother. That’s not right, Alistair Connor. Why don’t you put them near us?”

“We are too loud,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” Sophia paused, disconcerted. “You think so?”

He pushed open the door of a suite, luxuriously done in pink and pale yellow damask silk, smiling at her, “Nae. I’m teasing you, Sophia. This room has a secret passage. Gabriela will love it. It leads to the stone tower. And it has a cosy window seat, like ours. Come and look.” He walked past two single four poster beds straight to the curtains and pushed them open to reveal a large window seat with fluffy cushions. It overlooked the softly illuminated forest.

“It’s beautiful. Gabriela will love it.” She pushed up and stood on the tips of her running shoes and kissed his lips, dropping back graciously onto her soles. “Thanks.”

“Nice move,” he noted. “Do that again.”

She put her hands around his neck and pushed up on her tiptoes, kissing him on the lips again. He hauled her up his body by her ribcage, deepening the kiss. Immediately, she wound her legs around his waist and moaned as she rubbed against his erection.

He broke the kiss and spoke sensually on her lips, “You turn me on like no other woman ever did, Sophia. Will I ever get enough of you?”

“I hope not, my lord. I hope not.”

10.37 p.m.

“Now,” Sophia stopped in the middle of Alistair’s sitting room and pointed at him, with a devious smile on her lips, “you, Alistair Connor will stay here and read a book for five minutes.”

“I can wait inside-”

“No. Do you want your surprise?” He nodded eagerly. She pointed to an armchair. “Sit there and wait. In five minutes you can knock on the door.”

“Aye, my lady,” he sighed, and went to the bookshelf to choose a book. He muttered under his breath, “Any more orders, ma’am?”

“Yes,” she smiled mischievously as she heard his mumble. “I can think of a few.”

“God help me.” Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward as Sophia locked the door behind her, giggling.

10.46 p.m.

“Good evening, my lord,” she opened his bedroom door to him on the forth impatient knock. “I’m sorry I didn’t promptly answer the door. I just finished cleaning.” And smiled at him, bowing, “Please, come in.”

Alistair’s mouth fell open as he looked Sophia over. She was wearing a sexy French maid costume made of black leather and white lace. The cupped bra displayed her breasts while a ruffled apron with petticoats tied over her hips barely concealed her naked skin underneath. Her long legs were encased in stockings held by lace garters.

He growled low in his throat as his cock woke up and applauded as she waved a duster on his nose. How can this be possible?

She pulled him inside the room and moaned lightly, locking the door behind him.

He stood there dumbfounded, watching as she wandered around the room, pretending to dust things.

“Clean that lamp again,” he ordered.

She looked over her shoulder, her yellow diamond eyes sparkling with mischief and flicked the duster carelessly away and lifted her hands to her hair, pulling her ink-black locks loose from the bun. She shook her head, letting the hair pour over her shoulders and down to the small of her back.

“Oh, my lord...” She stepped toward him and divested him of his jacket. Pouting, she murmured, “Let me hang your coat in its place, sir.”

She strolled to his dressing room and paused near an armchair, widened her stance, and looked over her shoulder, purposely biting her lip.

He noticed she was wearing black varnished stilettos and his mind went fuzzy with lust.

Sophia smiled and let his jacket fall to the floor.

“Oops!” She put a hand over her mouth. “How clumsy of me.”

Alistair swallowed visibly and his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he saw she was naked under her petticoats. “Pick it up,” he demanded hoarsely.

“Yes, my lord.”

She bent over, her buttocks thrust up in the air. Flipping her hair over one shoulder, she looked at him through half open eyes, licking her mouth. She ran her fingers down over the back of her thigh.

Grabbing his jacket, she set it on his armchair. Then, cocking her hip to the other side, she put her thumb into her mouth as she looked demurely at him. And sucked it.

He grunted and walked toward her.

Sophia spread her legs wider and bent down again. She tensed slightly as Alistair stepped up behind her. She had never role-played a fantasy like this.

“Oh, Sophia, you shouldn’t have.” He unzipped his jeans and shoved it down his hips and grasped her hips firmly, jerking her back against his arousal.

A groan left him as he rubbed his hard manhood along the cleft of her buttocks.

That first touch of flesh reverberated as a shock through Sophia. She moaned and was caught off balance by the position, but his strong hold kept her steady.

His hard cock was feverish, instantly sparking flashes of desire whenever it touched her. Pure undiluted lust made her dizzy.

“Alistair,” she moaned.

Slowly she stood back up, flexing her legs, caressing and sliding against him. His face instantly dipped down, burying in the hollow of her neck, taking a deep breath.

“I love your smell,” he murmured. “White roses, orange with vanilla. Makes me want to eat you.” Again she rubbed her buttocks over his arousal and Alistair groaned, “I want you. Now.”

He didn’t give her a chance to comply, as he lifted her up high in the air, turning her in his arms as if she were light as a feather and put her down on the bed. He shoved down his jeans and ripped off his shirt, throwing it behind him. His eyes flamed green.

Alistair stroked his long fingers over her legs and gripping them, he pulled her to the edge of the bed. And thrust.

She moaned at the sudden onslaught, as he filled her. Each time they were together, it was like lightning washed over her.

Alistair held still for a brief moment, letting her adjust to his girth. Her legs wrapped around his lean hips and she locked her feet over his buttocks. He ran his hands over her thighs again. “You have strong, beautiful legs,” he whispered to her. “Hold on to me. Don’t let go,” he ordered as he withdrew, only to thrust hard in long even strokes, pushing deeper into her.

His hands glided up over her and bared her nipples, pinching them into hard buds and he ordered, “Put your hands over mine.”

Sophia put her hands over his and he changed position, covering hers with his. He stilled inside her and his lips split in a devilish smile as he said, “Pinch your nipples.”

Sensations exploded from the touch as her fingers, mingled with his. She gasped obeying his command and arching on the bed.

Alistair groaned in approval. One of his hand moved down to her hip to control her body, as he restarted to pump into her in hard thrusts. The other hovered over her clitoris, tantalizing her senses.

“Ah.” Her body clenched around his as he rode her to the edge of her desire. “Yes, please.”

Their moans mingled in his bedroom, growing louder with each long plunge of his hard length inside her.

Suddenly, her body tensed on the bed, arching beautifully before him as the tremors of release took over her and Sophia screamed his name in delight.

She tightened almost painfully around him, and Alistair grunted loudly as his orgasm took control of his body. He stiffened and burrowed deep in her body in several hard jerks as her name ripped from his throat in a grunt.

Alistair fell over her, leaning on his forearms, as his violent thrusts fired a last shot of desire through his body, he gasped, almost incoherently, “I love you.”

Sophia blinked those wondrous yellow eyes at him and sighed breathlessly, still in a far away wonderland.

“I love you,” he repeated, kissing her lightly on the lips and studied her face as he laid down beside her, untying her bra and apron and flinging them on the floor beside the bed. He gathered her in his arms, waiting for her to come back to earth, thinking of how much he had changed in so little time.

He was thirty-four years old when he met Sophia over a loan contract meeting. Three days later he had spent his thirty-fifth birthday alone, sulking in this very room, drinking himself into a stupor to dull the pain and guilt he felt for his daughter’s death, wishing he was dead, too. Now, the mere idea of not having a chance to live and share his life to the fullest with Sophia, pained him.

Tell her, Alistair Connor, tell her. You can’t avoid this issue forever.

Based on her behavior of late, he tried to analyze how she might feel about his past and his story with Heather. Outwardly, she’d shown only joy when with him, never asking about his wife. But privately, he knew she had unresolved feelings, that she was conflicted. Maybe because she still loves Gabriel.

Sophia rubbed her cheek on Alistair’s shoulder and her finger drew random designs on his wide chest.

He watched as the fire in the hearth danced over her body, illuminating and shadowing it in beautiful hues of orange.

Unsure if he was doing the right thing, he mustered his courage and, paving the path to the story of his past, said softly, “You were the best thing that could have happened in my life.” He tightened the arm wrapped around her waist. “There is something in you that keeps my evil locked deep inside.”

“Here you go again.” She lifted her head to look into his eyes. She knew she would find them troubled. There were so many things he kept buried inside him. “I don’t have this power, Alistair. It is all in here.” She poked at his chest. “I have never seen this darkness of yours. It eludes me. Don’t demonize yourself.”

He sighed and pushed up, carrying her with him, sitting reclined on the cushioned headboard. He shifted until she was nestled between his bent legs, sideways on his chest. “You could say I had an alter ego.” He paused and a bitter laugh left his lips. “I hope you’re not afraid of horror stories. It’s time you met the monster, Sophia.”

“God, Alistair.” She turned to look at him, both hands palmed on his broad chiseled chest. “You’re not a monster.”

“Such trust you have in me,” he scoffed. “You are too young and innocent, Sophia. Let me introduce you to Mr. Hyde.”

Sophia opened her mouth, but Alistair put a finger on her lips.

“Hush,” he said. “Hear me out.”

A creepy feeling chilled her, making her shiver. She snuggled closer to Alistair’s body. He was always warm.

She looked at him. He was lost in his recollections. His face was turned up, his eyes closed.

“I first met Heather at the bank Christmas party in December, 1999.”

Chapter 7

London, Kensington. Galewick Town House.

Sunday, September 28th, 2008.

1.01 p.m.

“Sit, Alistair. You’re making me dizzy with all that pacing,” Leonard poured a glass of whisky for Alistair and one for himself. “Sit down, goddammit.”

Alistair sat on the sofa as he felt the welcome burn of the whisky down his throat.

“I’ve never seen you like this.” Leonard sat on the sofa in front of Alistair. “What’s happening?”

“Leo, I need your help,” he leaned forward, put the glass on the center table and rubbed both hands on his face. “Your professional help.”

Leonard frowned, “I’m here to help. Tell me.”

“I want a divorce.”

Leonard’s wish was to applaud and hug his brother-in-law, but he remained impassible on the sofa. “Have you talked about this with Heather?”

“Aye. Nae.” Christ. What am I going to say? He raked his fingers through his hair. He wanted to pull it from its roots as angst filled him.

“Well?”

Alistair shook his head, unnerved. “Leo, the thing is... Christ, this is so difficult.” He rose and started to pace the room again, fortifying himself with more whisky, which he drank in large gulps.

“Alistair, this is usually an awkward issue. I won’t judge your reasons. They are yours and I understand. You can talk to me. Not one will know. Not even Alice.”

“Something very serious happened in May, Leo,” he said while he helped himself to more whisky. “Well, I- It happened a few times before I... discovered what she was doing. I tried to reason with her. Make her see that I would not abide her... Err, unprofessional behavior.” A soft lie.

“Do Malcolm and Berkley know?” Leonard was now preoccupied. He thought that Alistair had discovered that Heather had been cheating on him. But from what he was saying, the problem seemed worse.

I hope they never do. I don’t want to turn into the most famous English cuckold CEO. “No. I want her away from me, from the bank and from Nathalie. I’ll pay whatever she wants.” He put his glass on the mantle and started pacing again. “I’ll give her the apartment, the Porsche-”

“You don’t need to do that, Alistair. I know you signed a prenup.”

“It’s a small price to pay to see her gone, Leo. I don’t want her near Nathalie. Not even for a single visit.”

“No judge will give you that,” Leonard shook his head. “These cases are very rare. It has to be proven that the mother is dangerous to the child.”

You have to tell him the truth, Alistair Connor!”Proof?” He snorted. “I will give up a file loaded with proof. Give me some days. Photos, witness, or their testimonies, anything you want, provided Nathalie’s identity is safeguarded. But, Leo, I want it done without her knowing about it.”

“This is not so easy to achieve, Alistair. People usually say they’ll testify, but when you ask... they are not available anymore.”

Alistair smirked. “Trust me, Leo. I can prove it.”

“Get me proof. Then I will see what I can do.”

Alistair sat heavily on the sofa and looking in his brother-in-law’s eyes, he said, “Let me tell the whole story. The true story.”

The City of London Bank Headquarters.

Monday, December 15th, 2008.

9.12 p.m.

“Mr. MacCraig, good evening.”

“Good evening. Come in, please, Baptist.” Alistair motioned to the sofa in his office. “It took you longer this time.”

“Mr. MacCraig, I told you I needed more time to do this kind of work. It’s achieved only with a great dose of patience. And, in this case, I couldn’t delegate. That’s why I charged you more.” He sat on the sofa and opened a huge black briefcase and handed Alistair three thick files. “Here.”

Only the sound of Alistair’s leafing the sheets was heard in the room. A dark smile spread on his face.

After a few moments, Baptist said, “I take it you are satisfied, Mr. MacCraig.”

Alistair lifted his eyes to look at the detective and bobbed his head, slowly, “Aye, Baptist, aye. You did an outstanding job. An outstanding job.”

Baptist smiled back, thinking he didn’t want to be in Heather’s shoes when Alistair MacCraig exacted his revenge.

Heather and Alistair’s Apartment.

Friday, January 30th, 2009.

6.03 p.m.

“Alistair, honey,” Heather’s sugar-coated voice made Alistair’s stomach heave. “All I ask is one more chance.” She approached his rigid back, oblivious of the danger she was in, and leaned on him, her arms encircling his waist. “You know we are good together.”

“Nae, Heather. You had all your chances. I can’t take it anymore. I warned you, but you paid no attention.” Alistair slashed his hand in the air violently and stepped out of her embrace. If he stood near his wife for one more second, he would beat her to a pulp. With his heart full of hatred, he spat, “I’ve filed for a divorce.”

He turned to look at her. Her face was chalk white. However, he didn’t feel an ounce of pity for that woman.

“Please, honey,” she pleaded and approached him with outstretched hands. “Don’t do this.”

His lips curled in distaste. He stepped back and fisted his hands. “I’m giving you the Porsche plus a million pounds. I’m sure you’ll be fine. And the apartment. It’s all yours, so you can continue with your drug-fueled orgies.”

“Honey, how can you say that? I love you,” she purred.

Alistair felt sick as he looked at the woman he had married. He couldn’t bear to stay one more minute in the same room as her. He looked at his watch. “Where is Nathalie? She should have arrived by now.”

“She asked me to sleep over at Alice’s, honey,” she lied, knowing full well that Nathalie’s nanny was already bringing their daughter home from her sister-in-law’s house. “Was I wrong to say yes?”

Alistair didn’t deign to answer. He turned and marched out of his home office.

Heather heard when the front door banged loudly.

“Oh, no, Alistair Connor. No.” She slowly sat down on a chair. Anger took hold of her as she picked up the phone and dialed her sister’s number. Emma would know what to do. “Emma, it’s me.”

“Daddy?” Nathalie’s blonde head appeared at the office door. “Where is Daddy?”

“Hold on, Emma.” Heather looked at her daughter with so much hatred in her blue eyes that the little girl was startled. “He’s gone, Nathalie. And it’s your fault. All your fault. Go to my room. Now!”

Tears filled the little girl’s eyes as she ran to her bedroom and flung herself on the little bed. She wouldn’t believe her mother’s words. She knew her father loved her. She grabbed her favorite doll and curled up in bed, waiting for her father to come back. She knew he would return to take her away with him.

Nathalie clutched the doll against her chest when her mother appeared in her room with a twisted, crazed look in her face. “I told you to wait for me in my room. We are going to Aunt Emma’s.”

“Mommy, I want to wait for Daddy.”

“I won’t say it again, brat. Move.”

“I don’t want to go to Aunt Emma’s. Daddy promised me he will put me to sleep.”

“Your father makes promises he can’t keep, Nathalie.” Heather’s laughter chilled Nathalie, but she was too afraid of her mother to disobey. “Besides, he has more important things to do than to think about you.”

The little girl’s eyes filled with tears as she followed her mother to her parents’ room and laid on the bed, smelling her father’s perfume on the pillow. The scent lulled her to sleep while Heather packed a suitcase with clothes for the two of them.

Ells Hall.

Friday, March 19th, 2010.

11.36 p.m.

Heather! Oh, no! Heather’s ghost is about to enter the room. Sophia sat up abruptly, moving away from his body, her eyes wide, her lips parted in surprise, nausea making her stomach roll.

Alistair scrutinized her face. “You don’t want to know?” His question was almost a statement such was the wariness he saw on her face.

Sophia bit her lower lip and twisted a lock of her long hair around her index finger, in doubt. “I’ll be right back.”

She jumped from the bed and picked up her long wrap, walking to the bathroom. She leaned her hands on the sink. Do I want to know? She blinked slowly. Deep inside she knew that all the dark shadows she had glimpsed on Alistair’s face were going to surface. Nothing can be that bad.

When she returned to the bedroom moments later, her face was perfectly composed. She had erected up an emotional shield, but fear still lingered in the depths her eyes. She stopped at the end of the bed and hesitated. A sudden desire to flee from the room made her lightheaded. She gripped her cold hands to hide their trembling.

“Come here,” Alistair whispered the order, stretching his hand.

Sophia took his hand and sat on the edge of the bed, facing him, “Tell me your story.”

“As I was saying, I met Heather for the first time at the Christmas party. I was already a minor partner at the bank. I was twenty-five and she was twenty-nine. I was stupid and young and in awe of her. She was... more beautiful than Emma.” If there is any beauty on them.

“We worked in different departments, so she eluded me for some time. I was a rising star at the bank, but still only a beginner. I worked hard, made a few brilliant deals and was very good at politics. In April 2001, I was promoted to financial director and moved to her department. I bought more shares of the bank that month.” He smiled bitterly. “My status then changed. I wasn’t a minor partner anymore. A week later, I found an envelope on my desk with my name on it. Inside it I found a photo of her with an explicit invitation, and address and a key. You know...”

Uh? What? “No, I don’t.”

“She asked me to fuck her. In those terms.”

The air left Sophia’s lungs and she stammered, “Par-pardon?”

“She was never coy. She stated directly what she wanted. No-” He interrupted himself.

Slowdowns? Sophia was mortified. “God. You must have found my request when we started going out ridiculous.”

“Would you believe me if I said it was refreshing? You are special, mo chridhe.” He hugged her and kissed her hair, lost in his bad memories. If you’d asked me for another month, I would have waited.

“Then?” she coached, quietly.

“Her invitation went to my head, as you can imagine. Everyone at the bank wanted Heather. They pursued her incessantly and she invited me - me! - to her apartment. Well, to be brief-”

A morbid fascination possessed her. “Ah-ah! Now, I want details.” Sophia voice was deceptively soft, but she was restless. She had to understand the full story.

“Sophia, it was a kind of drug addiction. It’s not a pretty story.” Careful, Alistair Connor. You’re going to scare her away. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, introduce me to Mr. Hyde and his bed-partner. Let me be the judge.”

Counselor, your opinion about me is going to change if I tell you everything. “Heather was... insatiable. She wore me out every night and every morning, and at the weekends, we spent the whole day fucking. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was... sick. I didn’t even make the first move. I didn’t have to suggest things. Nothing was too much. Nothing was enough. It was a hell of a relationship. She aimed to please and to be pleased. She moved in with me at the end of the third month. I lived in a permanent state of arousal. I didn’t know if she would corner me in my office or in the men’s toilet for a quickie or what was going to happen at night. She usually went home earlier than me and prepared... You know.”

“Well, I don’t. Maybe she cooked dinner for you,” she mocked but immediately regretted it. This is serious, Sophia.

He sighed. “She never cooked for me, Sophia. She ordered takeaway or microwaved whatever I grabbed at the supermarket.”

“Alistair. It seems my... sexual education - or my imagination - is lacking.” Sophia’s strained her voice to mask her curiosity. “Please, explain.”

Don’t push, Sophia. You’re not going to like it. “I fucked her in every position and any time or place. In the car; during a bank formal dinner in the men’s toilet. Even in public, in the sea.” In a threesome; with her sister; with her friends...

What? Is it wrong to do it in the car? “How?” Her voice was shocked. “You are not a quiet lover.” Do you think it’s wrong to do it in different positions?

“You may recall, I can control myself if needed,” he said, watching her face closely as a strange look appeared in her widened eyes.

Oh, damn! He’s comparing us.

“I am not comparing, Sophia. Never.” He sighed. Stupid move, Alistair Connor. “I thought she was hot, Sophia. I couldn’t have been more mistaken. You, with your innocence, are so much more.”

“But what was so wrong?”

“Everything you can imagine.” And things I’ll never tell you. Ashamed, he looked at yellow-orange flames in the hearth. “You don’t want to know.” Threesomes, toys, S&M, bondage and some other things. “Suffice it to say that she liked things rough.”

What? I do too. “But... I...”

He shook his head interrupting her thoughts. “Not the kind that you like. Violent, degrading things.” He noticed Sophia’s eyes growing gradually huge.

“And you?” she whispered.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Did you like those things?”

Alistair gazed at Sophia for a moment. “Some of these things I had already tried and liked.” S&M was a bit harsh but I grew used to it. “I like a bit of violence,” he shrugged, “I’ve told you before.”

You’ll have to explain this better later, Alistair Connor. She lifted her head to get a better look at his eyes. “I don’t understand... You like those strange things and still you list a quickie in the car with... things that are wrong?”

“Nae, Sophia. I don’t think a quickie in the car is wrong, no.” He shook his head again and cleared his throat. “What was wrong was the exhibitionist and detached character of the situation she put us through.”

She was stunned. “Do you miss the things you did with her?”

“Nae, listen to me, I’m quite satisfied with my sexual life with you.” This time, white teeth flashed in a crooked smile. “I won’t lie and say that I don’t have a few fantasies that I want to try with you.”

Are you sure? I’m not anymore. “Alistair Connor. I never did anything... violent. I don’t like pain.” She twisted her hair around her fingers. “I have never been to a sex shop. I don’t even have the creativity to imagine the pleasure a person gets from that kind of violence.” She was disturbed. “My sexual life is... too normal, too bland? Am I missing something here?”

“No, Beauty.” He studied her face. “Would you like to try something... different?”

Sophia froze and looked away.

Alistair could touch the sudden tension in the room, but waited quietly for her answer.

“I- Alistair, I’ve- Today, for example, the French maid costume... it was a different things. Yeah, I could try a few different things, however... I-” She frowned. We were talking about you and Heather, not about me and you. “What happened then?”

Sophia’s question wasn’t prompted by curiosity. It was a need to shed some light on the painful shadows she glimpsed in his eyes. She wanted to first hear his version of the facts. Perhaps, then, she could let Alice or Tavish Uilleam talk. Not before.

“In hindsight, what I had with Heather was all just one big bad experience. There were so many wrong aspects in our relationship that I’m still astounded - disgusted, even - by my own behavior.”

Alistair looked into her eyes. His face was grave and the pain in his eyes so fierce that it scared her. “I was her sex toy - or she was my sex slave - I don’t really know. And don’t ask me why, but I liked it. I didn’t see what was coming until it was too late.” He looked at his hands and whispered, “And then she got pregnant. I was careless... And after a few broken condoms, I decided to go on without them. She had told me she was clean and on birth control.”

How dare you, Alistair Connor. But even though rage coursed in Sophia’s veins, she knew it was not time to talk about the comparison and his mistrust.

“When she told me, I was ecstatic. I’d always loved children. It was to be my first child,” he muttered.

Oh, God. “Nathalie?”

He looked up at Sophia and gave her a sad smile. “Nae. I went to Craigdale with her and told my parents that I was in love and was going to marry her.”

“Were you?” she asked in a whisper.

He raised his ink-black brows, questioning.

“In love? Were you in love with her?”

“I thought I was.” He crossed his arms over his chest, in a defensive position. “My parents saw what I couldn’t. Heather was a greedy whore, without morals or feelings for me. She didn’t love me.” He looked down and his arms opened, his hands falling heavily on his thighs. “But then, how could she?”

How could she?! “How could she not?” Sophia edged closer, grabbed his hand, and putting it against her cheek, she murmured, “You are so easy to love.”

“Am I?” His lids lifted, there was no light in his green eyes.

“Yes. So lovable,” she reaffirmed, soothing, and pulled his hand on her lap, between hers, caressing his knuckles. “What did your parents do when you told them you wanted to marry her?”

“Well, my parents refused to acknowledge her as my fiancée and we got married at a Registry Office. Just the two of us. Not even Alice or Tavish Uilleam went. They disapproved of her, by the way,” he huffed. “I had no more friends. I spent my days working and my nights and weekends having wild, depraved sex.” He laughed, disgusted. “Heather wanted money, status, a handsome face and an insane, dark lover with stamina to handle her. I wonder...” A lock of his raven hair fell over his eyes and he let it remain there. “If she ever loved anyone. She had never wanted me, Alistair Connor. I was just another step she used to get her way. But then, what did I really have to offer her?”

“Oh, Alistair Connor. Your-” she couldn’t bear to say ‘wife’ nor was she going to soil her lips with her name. “You are... breathtaking. Not your beauty, not your money or your status. You. Your heart. But she has damaged you too much for you to believe in what I am saying, hasn’t she?” Sophia began to feel an incredible anger for that execrable woman.

The room quietened as Sophia protectively hugged the fierce and broken man that made her heart beat faster. She traced his jaw, asking, “When did you get married?”

“On her birthday. March the fifth, two-thousand-four. She was two months’ pregnant.” His mouth contorted and his green eyes darkened. “A month after the wedding, she had an abortion.”

His pain was so acute that Sophia couldn’t bear it and her eyes teared. “I’m so sorry she lost the baby.”

He squeezed her in his arms. “Sophia, she didn’t lose the baby. It wasn’t a miscarriage.” He looked down at her face and repeated bitterly, “She. Had. An abortion.”

Sophia gasped indignant, “She... She... killed your baby? Her own baby? How could she?”

He shrugged. He didn’t have an answer, since he didn’t understand such a barbaric act himself.

“And what did you do? It was one of the main reasons you married her, wasn’t it? The baby?”

“She told me the baby had spina bifida. It’s a-”

“I know what that is,” she interrupted him. “And?”

He paused for a second. “I found out afterwards it was a lie. Another lie. At the time, I was too devastated to investigate further. I didn’t see the web she was spinning around me. Three months later, life returned to normal. If you can call debauchery normal.” He lowered his eyelids, his long lashes shadowing his cheekbones. “Day after day, she introduced more perversions into our lives. Until-” She asked me to have a threesome with another man. “We had our first fight. She moved into Emma’s apartment, but a month later she was back. We agreed on some ground rules. At least, I thought we had. I had fulfilled my fantasies. I’d reached my limit.”

“But... you told me you liked it.”

“Sophia, I believe in equal rights. If she fulfilled my fantasies, she should have the right to fulfill her perversions.”

“Perversions,” she repeated, baffled. What kind of perversions?

He sighed and nodded, “Aye. She needed them like the air she breathed, but I thought I could prevent them, that I could supply her with other sensations. She was too damaged though, too sick. It was an addiction. The more she did, the more she wanted.” He waved his hand in the air. “Fool that I was, it never crossed my mind that she would look elsewhere to fulfill her desires.”

Sophia cupped his face in her hands, “She cheated on you? I don’t believe it.”

“Why not?” he rasped.

“I thought... you had cheated on her.”

His laughter was bitter. “She did it time and time again. I was working too much to notice it. I bought more shares of the bank in August, 2005. We started to work on different floors and it was easier for her to lure others into our house. She did it all, sex, drugs and rock n’ roll,” he mocked.

Horror creeped onto her face and she didn’t try to disguise it.

“Drugs? You too?” She breathed relieved when he shook his head. “Why didn’t you divorce her?”

“I didn’t find out immediately. She was always eagerly waiting for me. She did it all and still had the energy to fuck me.” His lips thinned to a line. “She got pregnant again. She was so engrossed in her immoral self-indulgence that she didn’t pay attention to her own body. One night, when she was almost five months, I felt the baby kicking my hand. Nathalie.” He breathed the name of his daughter with so much love, like it was a blessing.

“Five months... Impossible. I don’t believe it.” She shook her head.

“She was very, very lean; thinner than you, even. She’d never had regular periods. And she was always on a diet. She was crazy about fitness.”

“But almost five months... Didn’t it show?”

“A little, round belly, but that was all. She was sleeping when the baby moved. I didn’t recognize it at first, but I had remembered Alice’s first pregnancy, so when I felt the next kick I knew it had to be a baby. I panicked. The very next morning I took her, kicking and screaming, to Craigdale and locked her under my mother’s supervision. I threatened her with exposure, if she didn’t stay put and take care of herself until the end of the pregnancy. One month after Nathalie was born, I brought her back to London, and she returned to her perverted life.” He closed his eyes tight, the skin around them crinkling. “But I was too busy to see.” I didn’t want to see that I was a failure as a man, as a husband, as a lover.

“And?”

“I only discovered Heather’s betrayal because a very dear friend of mine insisted I hire a detective. I tried to righten things with her when I discovered it. She promised she would behave, but it was in vain. I was enraged with myself for not seeing Heather’s true colors from the beginning, not to have heard my parents’ advice. Feeling guilty of everything that was wrong in my life and Nathalie’s, I sank deeper into the mud. I don’t know what happened to me. I took off my wedding ring and each night, I fucked a different woman. I mean the word, Sophia. I didn’t make love or have sex with these women. I punished them for Heather’s and for their existence and I punished myself for being so stupid. I was ruthless. Vicious. I wanted to make them suffer.” His body was so stiff, that if not for his mouth moving she’d have thought he’d turned into a statue. “And do you know what made me even madder? They kept returning and asking for more.”

Sophia didn’t want to hear any more, but something keep pushing her. “And?”

“After a few months living in hell, I filed for a divorce...” He put both hands on his face, and his words came out muffled. “I did every fucking thing wrong. Every. Fucking. Thing. Wrong.”

A heavy silence suffocated them.

He hugged her in his arms and started talking again, “I thought... I asked Leonard to help me... We devised a plan. To pull it off, I needed proof of her drug addiction and of her unstable and perverted sexual behavior. I wanted to get full custody of Nathalie. It was not easy. First it took too much time to obtain the proofs and to convince the judge... Well, the day Leonard guaranteed it, I informed her about the divorce.” He squeezed his eyes tightly shut again. “She tried to make amends, she pleaded with me, but I’d made up my mind. It is beyond my capacity to understand why she did what she did, because she never loved Nathalie. I could only imagine that she would use her as leverage... unfortunately.” His hands clenched on her back, “In my selfishness-” He breathed deeply, “Nathalie payed for my sins.”

He lifted his eyelids and looked at her with tears in his eyes. “Nathalie... She was an angel, Sophia. So beautiful, so calm, always smiling. I woke up early to stay with her a few hours in the mornings and in the evenings when I arrived home I spent all the time I could with her. She was a blessing. I... I moved out and put the apartment on the market two months after she died. Every time I walked in, I expected her to come running, just like she always did, a big smile on her face, to throw herself in my arms.” His voice broke and he blinked to stop the tears from falling. “When I arrived home, I would spend hours in her little bed, smelling her baby scent. I didn’t let my mother give away her clothes. I slept with her stuffed elephant, one of her favorite toys. I heard her gentle voice calling me. I was going crazy.” Alistair’s face crumbled and he spoke with a deadened tone, “It was my fault, Sophia. Heather told me she was at Alice’s and I didn’t check. Heather put her asleep in the Porsche with no seatbelt. She crossed a red light. A bus ran into them. Heather died instantly, Nathalie, at the hospital. My mother got so depressed, she died three months later.” His green eyes were dark, all the light gone from them. There was only despair in his voice. “You see, your instincts were wrong when you absolved me.”

“Oh, Alistair. They weren’t.” His grief was so tangible, she knew he was far from overcoming it.

He had created a fortress of guilt around him, holding him hostage rather than giving sanctuary.

His suffering ate her up inside as if it were her own, and drained her like nothing else had since Gabriel’s death.

“I killed my daughter and my mother. That’s the truth.” His voice was so hoarse and his accent so thick that Sophia had difficulty understanding what he was saying.

“For God’s sake, Alistair Connor! You weren’t responsible. A mother is supposed to protect her children. With her life, if needed. That woman you married was not a mother. She was not a woman. She was a sick, insane monster.”

“I was-” He sighed profoundly, “I’m a monster, too. I’m guilty, mo chridhe. I have to suffer, to pay for my sins. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve to be loved.”

Sophia looked at his bared soul and didn’t find the man she knew. No. A very different man is drowning the Alistair Connor I know in a cesspool of undeserved guilt.

It brought out in her a deep need to ease his misery. She straddled Alistair and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Do you think I will allow you to continue harming yourself? Well, I won’t. You have to stop this self-punishment. What you haven’t understood until now is that I consider you mine, and no one, no one harms what is mine.” She fisted his hair and pulled his head up to look at her. “Not even you are allowed to harm yourself. Do you understand?” She took his mouth hard.

He jerked his head back to look at her.

“Do you?” she insisted.

A pained look appeared on his face.

“I do. Oh, Sophia,” he murmured, burying his head in her hair and inhaling her sweet smell. “I need you, my love. I need you.”

“Take me. I’m yours.” She pulled his head to kiss him as if she could remove from within him all that darkness which poisoned his heart and soul.

“You don’t understand,” he shook his head fiercely. “I can’t be gentle. I can’t take you right now. I can’t. I want to-” Hurt you.

This is it, my chance to show him he can escape from all his violence and pain. His guilt and punishment. I can’t allow him to say no. “Please,” she spread her legs and pressed down on him, “make love to me.”

He burrowed his head in her neck, struggling for control. “That’s what you deserve. A man who’ll give you love.” He raised his head, his emerald eyes searching hers, “But right now, what I want is to take. To take you hard and fast enough to make me forget,” he said, his hands stealing under her wrap to palm her breast, plucking and pinching the nipples.

Sophia gasped astonished by this side of his she didn’t know, but didn’t block his advances, “You don’t need to hurt. You need to love.”

Alistair hated the darkness that surrounded him every time he thought about Heather. He was wary of hurting Sophia, but only she could help take away the painful memories. She was his light, his sun, the one that could drag him back from the cold hell he had been living in. He bent his head and cupped a breast with a greedy hand, sucking a nipple hard, biting it.

Another gasp from Sophia. “Slow down,” she asked as he shoved off her wrap.

He groaned and shoved her backwards onto the bed. His fingers trailed toward her sex. He teased her clitoris with rapid strokes. She moaned low and her hand tangled in his hair. With no finesse, he plunged two fingers into her.

Sophia gave a small cry of pain and fisted his hair, pulling his head back. “I’m okay with rough sex, but not with pain and punishment. I don’t like it and you don’t need this anymore.”

He breathed deep and nodded, “Sorry.”

“Don’t bring Heather into our relationship.” Sophia looked at him and whispered, “I want you to love me. Hard and fast.” She kissed him deep and completed, “We are celebrating life. We are worshiping love.”

He closed his eyes for an instant while his hands wandered on her torso as if learning her contours all over again.

“Alistair Connor?” Sophia wanted to be reassured that he had understood her message. She gripped one of his hands and pressed it to her left breast. “Let’s celebrate love.” And redemption. “I care for you. So much. Let me show you.”

He slowly opened his eyes, mesmerized by the promise her voice held, the unsaid words. Her clear eyes, which held so much love, reached deep inside him, easing the vise around his heart, lessening the guilt that darkened his soul.

“Love me,” she asked.

He sat on bent legs pulling her up, with her back to him. He propped her on his thighs, spreading her legs with his from behind and, slowly and gently, started to fondle her.

“Yes,” she moaned and her head fell on his shoulder, she parted her lips, inviting him to kiss her.

He complied and bent his head plundering her mouth as he thrust one finger into her, in and out, and pinched lightly her nipple.

“On all fours,” he ordered raspily as he lowered her on her elbows and knees, her hair spilling all around her, her buttocks raised. He almost came then and there. He opened her legs wider and started to position himself inside her, grunting loudly as he did. Holding her hips, his other hand went for her clitoris. He fought again for some control.

“Give me,” she asked and tried to adjust her position, backing onto him.

“Sophia, don’t,” he inhaled loudly, “I’ll lose control.”

“Lose it, dammit!” she exclaimed.

That did it for him. He plunged all the way to the hilt; her tightness enveloping him as they gasped with pleasure.

“You with me?” he whispered.

Sophia nodded and he bent down over her, supporting his weight on his hand as he pounded in her.

Alistair was lost, completely lost to lust and bewildered by how Sophia, again, acquitted him.

His mouth burned a trail down her spine as he teased her, sliding in and out, nudging her pleasure higher.

She felt he was reaching as deeply as he could go. Still, she wanted more. “Please, I need-”

“Not yet.” He slowly withdrew and then pushed forward in a maddeningly slow pace.

Their moans filled the room, but he wanted more. He forced her shoulders down on the mattress and fisted her hair, pinning her under him. He kissed her nape, as a hand plumped a breast and squeezed a nipple firmly between his fingers.

He had to forget the memories and prove to himself that he could be another man. He had to show her he could be the man that she wanted.

Sophia let out a groan of pleasure. He raised a knee beside her hip, going even deeper. He increased his pace, mindlessly thrusting, filling her with all his might, fingers rubbing and pressing her in time with his shoving hips.

“Who do you need?” he asked in a whisper as he kindled her lust, promising a spiraling drop over the edge.

“You. Only you,” she sang, and he swept a finger lightly over her.

“Say my name,” he growled, as he shoved harder and faster into her.

“Alistair Connor!”

Her every sense flooded with pleasure as his deft fingers and body played her like a fine instrument. She cried out incoherently in Portuguese and came tightly around him.

He threw his head back, with a loud grunt, as wave after wave of pleasure hit him and spasmed violently, collapsing onto his side hugging her close with one arm, shuddering with release as his delight exploded into a thousand iridescent stars and he whispered her name as he poured all his passion in her.

As always Alistair recovered first.

Sophia was lying on her side, barely breathing. “Sophia, mo gràdh, are you okay?” He brushed her hair away, spreading kisses over her face.

She flicked a dismissive hand at him, eyes still closed, curling into a ball.

She was spent and sated, but unsettled. Sophia’s mind was fuzzy, her hearing distorted. She didn’t think she had ever been so confused. She was stunned by his story and her feelings shocked her.

A stifled hiccup shook her body.

Alistair Connor, you’re an asshole. You hurt her. He scooped her in his arms and the tender gesture made her lose it. Tears started to fall and sobs racked her as she cried wholeheartedly in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison.

He halted, surprised. Why is she sorry?

Between sobs, her voice muffled by his neck, she said in a sorrowful voice, “How I wish I could spare you this pain. I’m so sorry, so very sorry.” She kissed the hollow of his neck and tentatively her arms went around him and she splayed her hands over his shoulder and lower back, soothing and protecting him. “You have to let this guilt go. You have to bury this anger you have against Heather and yourself. Swear to me.”

He was awestruck. Her silent acceptance of the darkness he carried within told him that, after all those years in the most barren wasteland, he was finally home.

“I will,” he whispered in her hair, solemnly, “I swear to you.”

Alistair pulled the covers over them as she calmed down and the sobs subsided. I have to recover from the horror of what happened, it shouldn’t consume me so badly anymore. Tenderness filled his heart at her acceptance of him as he was. She is so giving, so beautiful. Inside and out.

He realized in that moment that he was profoundly in love with her. The sort of love that makes a man marry a woman.

He brushed her hair away from her face and she softly smiled at him, her eyes still closed.

She was the kind of woman that made men turn their heads and lust for her. But he knew she was more than that for him. She was goodness; fierce to her principles; a strong woman. She was the air he breathed.

I love you. “Tha gràdh agam dhut,” he whispered in her ear, completely relaxed and satisfied. Would you marry me, Sophia? Oh, fuck! I haven’t told her everything yet. “Mo chridhe?”

“Hmm?” She opened her yellow diamond eyes to stare at him and demanded, “Kiss me.”

He did, surrounding her with all the love he had to give.

“Alistair...” her fingers brushed his long bangs off his forehead. “Why are you so afraid of people really seeing you for who you are? A good man, a person capable of love? Are you afraid of another betrayal? She was sick. Not everyone is like her. People won’t betray you like she did.”

“Sophia, you have no idea what betrayal can do to a man. It hurts deep, very deep. I thought I had given her all I could. My name, status, love, sex, money, but nothing was enough. It broke me apart. I first felt diminished, less than a man. Then I became enraged. I wanted to kill her. I couldn’t, of course. Besides, she was Nathalie’s mother. So I punished her instead. The more I did, the more I was poisoned by the whole situation. I didn’t know how to deal with it and I didn’t have anyone to talk to. Tavish Uilleam was away. I wasn’t on good terms with him or with my father. They’d never liked Heather. And I was too ashamed to tell my friends about it. What would they think?”

“You never thought about seeing a therapist?” It was more a statement than a question. From her experience as a lawyer in Brazil and at her foundation, she knew that, in cases like Alistair’s, therapy was the best option. Some men needed psychiatric supervision, but she would bet that in his case therapy would do the trick.

He shook his head, “I didn’t have the courage.”

“You need to work out these feelings. Maybe now you could talk to Tavish Uilleam or Leonard.”

He gave a brisk, bitter laugh, “Do you know their nickname for me? The mighty Alistair Connor. I can’t tell them that the wife of the mighty Alistair Connor was cheating on him. They would lose all respect they still have for me.”

“Lose respect? Why? It wasn’t your fault,” she was astonished by his line of thought.

“It must have been...” he whispered, painfully. “I must have done something very wrong.”

“The only thing you did wrong was to enter into a relationship with her,” she affirmed. “That’s why you only had one-night stands, isn’t it? You were afraid to let anyone in.” He nodded. “Why is it so hard for you to see yourself as I see you? You hide everything that is good and worthy about you, because you are afraid. She was a monster. She was sick. She gave you nothing and took everything. You’re magnificent.”

A small hopeful light appeared in the forest green eyes. “Magnificent?”

Caught by the vulnerability he showed no one else, she’d whispered her answer in a kiss. “Utterly.” Sophia’s heart was bleeding for the younger Alistair and the present one. She touched his chest, “Inside here, Alistair Connor. She couldn’t see it, but you are.”

He sighed and after a few minutes in silence, he said, “Maybe, mo gràdh.”

“Mmm. I have absolutely no idea what you are calling me in this delicious language of yours.” She grinned. “I’m going to speak with you only in Portuguese from now on.”

He smiled back. “Leonard can always translate for me.”

“I doubt he would get everything. I could ask the same from Alice, but I want you to tell me.” Her nails caressed the wide expanse of his chest. “To start with, what does tha grudh gan thut means?”

He laughed at her pronunciation, “I have no idea, but tha gradh agam dhut means I love you.”

Sophia was silent for a long time. Then she raised her head to study his face with hooded eyes, an inscrutable emotion shimmering on her face.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side, studying her features.

What? You can’t even start to imagine... She asked then, her heart beating so fiercely that she was sure he could hear it, gaining a few seconds more to be sure of her next words, “And mo gràdh?”

“My love,” he explained, combing her hair with his fingers.

I lo- Don’t, Sophia. Too soon. You have to work out all your issues and problems before you declare yourself. If you can... Sophia shook her head at herself inwards. It was not time to think about those horrible things. “I won’t let you be hurt again, Alistair Connor. I promise you.”

“I love you, Sophia.”

Just as Alistair’s eyes closed in sleep, he remembered he hadn’t told her everything. Tomorrow. I will tell her tomorrow...

Chapter 8

Galewick Townhouse.

Friday, January 30th, 2009.

7.52 p.m.

“MacCraig.” Alistair answered his cell phone and felt cold sift through his bones as the bad premonition he had been feeling since he discovered Nathalie was not in Alice’s house confirmed itself. He froze in front of the hearth. He didn’t recognize his own voice when he spoke, “I’ll be there.”

He turned off the phone and without a word walked to the front door of Leonard and Alice’s house as if he was being chased by the devil.

Leonard’s hand yanked him back, “Alistair. What happened?” From Alistair’s ashen face, Leonard instantly knew it was something grave.

“Police. Nathalie. Car accident,” he rasped. “They are taking her to St. Mary’s hospital.”

“I’ll drive you.”

Alistair was grateful for Leonard’s help because there was a thick fog in his head.

He entered the car and, resting his head on the headrest, he closed his eyes and prayed.

Prayed for his daughter’s life.

Paddington. St. Mary’s Hospital.

8.16 p.m.

Alistair flung the car door open before Leonard could stop it fully and ran inside the hospital.

His heart speeded up in his chest as he saw a gurney surrounded by doctors, being pushed quickly down a corridor.

The blonde hair of the child was matted with blood, but he would recognize his daughter anyway, anywhere.

Thanks Christ! My dear angel. “Nathalie,” he shouted and ran after the gurney that was being rushed into a room.

Alistair stopped outside the room and looked through the glass window. He fell as Leonard stopped by his side, but his gaze was fixed on his daughter’s battered face as doctors and nurses pushed tubes and wires in her small body.

Christ! He tried to breathe but there was no air in his lungs. He swayed on his feet and Leonard grabbed him by the upper arms. My little Nathalie.

He blinked twice but his lovely daughter was still lying in that hospital bed, white as a ghost and broken as a ragged doll. Her small body was strangely bent in the middle and her legs were broken. The sheet that had covered her was stained red and had been flung in a corner. So much blood!

“Nathalie!” he roared and banged his fists on the window.

“Stop, Alistair!” Leonard grabbed his arm.

Nathalie tilted her face to look at him. Her blue eyes were wide opened and scared.

He saw when her lips moved and said, “Daddy-”

He saw as she coughed and a trickle of blood marred her white lips.

He saw her struggling to breathe and her eyes filling with a far away look.

The machine beeped one last time and Nathalie’s chest rose no more as a desperate and impotent Alistair screamed and pounded all his grief on a window pane.

Heather and Alistair’s Apartment.

Saturday, January 31st, 2009.

1.08 a.m.

Alistair closed the door behind him and looked around Nathalie’s empty room.

He wished he could kill Heather for what she had done.

But he couldn’t.

He heaved a breath as a pain that couldn’t be expressed took hold of him, going on and on, crushing him.

The best time of my day was when your laughter rang in the air, Nathalie.

Now...

Now, you’ll never laugh again.

Never again you’ll sit with me to play with your princesses and their castles in the clouds.

You will never grow into a beautiful woman.

So many dreams I had for you, my little angel.

Now... Your castles and my dreams have been shattered.

Now... You are dead.

And I am alive.

The knowledge that she was gone - forever - and that he would have to live on without her, swelled the emotions that gripped his heart. Alistair flung himself in her small bed, burying his nose in her sweet scented pillow.

I deserve to live in hell. “Nathalie,” sorrowfully he sobbed his little daughter’s name. “I’m sorry. So very sorry.”

He laid there in darkness, completely devastated, as huge sobs left his chest and his tears soaked the small pink pillow he clutched to his face.

His pain was so excruciating, his grief was so profound, his guilt was so enormous that no matter how many tears he shed, they would not ease his despair.

In the space of a few hours, Alistair Connor MacCraig turned into a black hole of nothingness.

Ells Hall.

Saturday, March 20th, 2010.

6.16 a.m.

Fragmented images swirled in a dizzying kaleidoscope of red and black. Grueling impressions of cold and pain and discomfort were overlaid with confusion and growing awareness.

Alistair fought his way out of sleep, breathing heavily as the remnants of the nightmare fell away.

He inhaled deep and looked at the windows and, through the opening in the curtains, saw that dawn was already overtaking night with its soft pink and orange hues. He felt Sophia shift slightly, still pressed closely to him. Since he started sleeping with her, he hadn’t dreamt about his daughter, but the dread of telling Sophia his dark secret had brought the painful memories back.

He rose and put on a T-shirt, shorts and running shoes. He silently left the bedroom heading to the Spa. He knew that no matter how many hours he exhausted himself on the tread-mill and with weights, nothing would take away from his memories the last image he had of Nathalie.

8.19 a.m.

Alistair’s smell is so good. Sophia burrowed her nose in his pillow.

Her lips curled as she heard the water cascading in the bathroom.

Mmmm. There is a delectable body under warm water. All alone. She jumped from the bed.

On her tiptoes, Sophia entered the bathroom. He was washing off the foam from his hair under the huge shower. It was perfect for his size. His back, shoulder and arm muscles contracted with strength. Sophia’s mouth watered. She opened the shower door silently and pressed herself flush to his back.

“Christ, Sophia!” he shouted as he startled under the water.

“Good morning, Handsome.” She rubbed her face on his back, kissing him. “You make a fine sight to start the day.”

She ran her hands on his chest and kept them moving down. He was already turned on and she gripped him tightly. Sophia’s laugh hung in the bathroom.

“What you do to me, Sophia.” He turned and engulfed her in his arms. “Sleep well?”

“Yes. The exercise made me relax,” she said dismissively.

“The exercise? The gall!” He fisted her wet hair and yanked her head back, kissing her fully on the lips, his tongue demanding entrance. He backed Sophia onto the marble, trapping her between his warm body and the cold wall. She hissed and tensed.

“Feel that?” he asked, throaty. “I’m going to have you right now just for your petulance.”

She flexed her stomach onto his hot and hard erection and moaned, “Yes.”

“Rough.” He softly bit her neck and she gasped, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling him for a demanding kiss. Lips clashed and tongues entwined. Her foot trailed up his calf, her leg rubbing the side of his solid thigh. His hand dropped to her knee and travelled up her thigh, caressing her, testing, teasing, and without asking permission, two fingers plunged inside her.

Sophia broke the kiss with a cry, panting, her yellow diamond eyes full of desire.

He stared at her eyes and his own flamed. “So ready, Beauty,” he murmured against her lips. His strong hands grasped the back of her thighs and hauled her up, gliding her breasts on his chest. He grunted and ordered, “Wrap your legs around me.”

“So bossy, Handsome.” She wound her long legs around his waist and locked her ankles, pressing her heels on his buttocks. Her hands plunged in his wet hair.

He backed her onto the wall and pressed his chest onto hers.

“What do you want?” He let her slide down just a bit, his straining erection finding her entrance, teasing.

“You. Anyway you want,” she replied, huskily. “Inside me. Now. Here. Forever.”

“Yes!” He sank himself into her and started to work her body in a frenzy.

She moaned loudly, “Give me more. Give me everything.” So good.

He pounded and circled his hips, teasing her clitoris. His fingers adjusted better on her thighs and buttocks and one of them brushed her tight rear opening. She tensed.

“Relax,” he said and slowly thrust his index finger into her.

She gasped. And moaned, relaxing in his arms.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me show you.”

Sophia felt she was rising higher and higher while he pounded into her, hammering with all his might. Her whole body started to tremble in time with her shaking legs.

“Let go, Sophia. I’ve got you,” he crooned and widened his stance without slowing his tempo.

She moaned with desire, “Alistair.”

“That’s it, Beauty. Come for me.”

Sophia’s throat convulsed and she arched her body on his, calling his name as an intense orgasm consumed her.

He was watching her with an intense, undefined emotion as he filled her. He saw as another shudder of pleasure shook her body and he ordered, thrusting deep and hard in her, “Again.”

She gasped, shaking her head, struggling to maintain her hold on him, feeling boneless.

“I. Said. Again,” he ordered in a hiss, licking and nibbling her neck and shoulder, thrusting fast. “Let me consume you.”

“Ah!” Her insides clenched and coiled and she screamed again as a second orgasm hit her.

Her yellow diamond eyes flew opened as a third wave washed through her. She let out a long and loud gasp and her whole body stiffened and snapped, as a fierce, lightening bolt coursed from her nape to the end of her spine, tearing her apart, with hard shudderings.

Her scream almost deafened Alistair.

He came violently, burying his head on her neck, inhaling her scent, filling her with his release. He remained inside her for some time as if he wanted to fuse himself with her, mark her body as his.

With his back now to the wall, he slid down to the marble floor with Sophia tenderly nestled in his arms.

After a few minutes, still panting hard, he asked her, “First time?”

What is he talking about? She blinked at him, her brow creased, barely breathing. “We’ve made love,” she gasped for air, “in the shower before.”

He smiled at her inexperience. So refreshing. He whispered on her temple, “First time you had a multiple orgasm?”

“Oh. No, second.” She purred like a kitten, rubbing her face on his broad shoulder and kissing his collarbone. “The first time was in my pantry, a few days ago.”

“I’ve always envied this ability women have. From one to ten, how would you rate this one?”

“This one? Twenty,” she murmured. “I was about to freak out. It was... staggering.”

“I noticed.” He chuckled. “And first time in your ass?” Sophia blushed and he laughed out loud. “Hmm, I think so.”

“First time,” she confessed. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the rapid rhythm of his heart. “This is the most wonderful music I have ever heard.”

“Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony?”

“No.” She grinned at him. “I didn’t even notice that was on. I was talking about the beat of your heart.”

He buried his face in her hair. He lifted his head to look into her eyes and remembered. Fuck. I haven’t told her everything yet.

“Let’s finish this shower,” he stood up and pulled her to her feet, holding her against his body as he tenderly soaped her.

“Mmmm. This is so good,” she moaned in his arms, her hands roaming freely over his strong back. “I’ll become addicted to this.”

I do hope you get addicted so when I tell you my whole story you won’t back away from our relationship.

He rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes, for a fleeting second imagining what his life could have been if he could go back in time and be whole again for her. His arms tightened around her, holding her against him, as if she were the most precious thing in the world. He whispered so low that Sophia almost didn’t hear, “I love you so much.”

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

9.45 a.m.

The beautiful dark-haired woman stopped at the door to the home office and knocked softly, pushing it as she heard a voice commanding her to enter.

“Good morning, Scott,” she said, stepping into the office.

“Good morning, Sophia,” Scott replied with a smile.

The woman pursed her lips. “Scott, I’ve already asked you not to call me Sophia when Ethan isn’t around. My name is Barbara.”

Scott’s smile waned and he frowned.

“So-phi-a,” he stressed the name. “You knew the rules and you agreed to them. But if you are not satisfied...” He left the threat hanging in the air.

Barbara sighed and lowered her head, “I’m sorry. I won’t ask again. I... I was wondering if I could have a day off. I need to visit my mother.”

“Ask Mr. Ashford, Sophia. I’m sure he’ll comply. He has a very big heart,” Scott encouraged her. “He’s having his breakfast. Go on.”

“I...”

“Go, go, Sophia. The real... You wouldn’t doubt- Err... Your course of action. Try to be more assertive. Mr. Ashford is not going to bite you.”

“You know I need the money,” Barbara said. “I can’t risk displeasing him, Scott.”

“You won’t.” He motioned with his hand for her to exit the room, “Now, go. Ask what you want in the next half hour. We have a meeting after that.”

“Okay. Wish me luck,” Barbara asked and bit her lip.

Scott laughed, “You don’t need luck, my dear. Just bite your lip and ask what you want. He will grant it, I’m sure.”

That made her stop in the middle of the room, “Why do you say that?”

“You do exactly what the... Ah... First Sophia did. I’m sure that’s the reason he chose you, besides, of course, your great similarity. It’s impressive,” Scott explained.

Barbara pulled up a chair and sat next to Scott, looking into his watery blue eyes, “Scott, I need to study her. I need to see her. I need to know her life. Where she studies. What she does. Who are her friends. Photos, videos. Everything. Can you get me those?”

While Scott thought about her request, Barbara continued talking, an idea forming in her mind, “Wouldn’t it be nice for you, if he was happier with me as her?”

“Come again? If he were... happier with you?”

“If I look and behave more like her, he will be even more satisfied with your services than he is now. I’m an actress, Scott. I know I can imitate her better if you give me something to work with. It’s very difficult to be someone I don’t know.”

An evil grin spread slowly on Scott’s features, “I’ll make a file for you later today.” He patted her hand, musing, “Good idea, good idea, my dear.”

She gave him a bright smile and exited the room, closing the door behind her.

Ethan lowered the newspaper when he heard soft footsteps in the dining room. “Good morning, darling.”

Barbara approached him and bent down to kiss his cheek, “Good morning, Ethan.”

She fidgeted with the skirt of her dress unsure if she should speak her mind or not.

If she should sit or not.

If she should flee from the mad job she’d accepted or not.

But she desperately needed the money to repay the loan sharks or they would bother her mother again.

Not a shade of my Sophia. Ethan sighed and said, “Sit, please. Have breakfast with me.”

She sat on the chair beside him and bit her lip, remembering Scott’s words. She almost smiled as she heard Ethan’s groan.

His hand shot to her chin and his thumb freed her lip from her teeth. “Don’t.” His hand fell from her chin and he motioned to the loaded table. “Choose something. Eggs, bread, fruit. Espresso, cappuccino.” He stepped on a button under the table and, within seconds, Imelda, his housekeeper, appeared at the door.

“Yes, Mr. Ashford?”

“Please, see to Sophia’s breakfast.” He motioned to Barbara and held her hand in his. “What do you want, darling?”

“Tea and a white omelet, if you please, Imelda.”

Tea! And white omelet! Ugh! He breathed deep and turned back to his newspaper.

“Ethan,” Barbara entwined her fingers with his and squeezed lightly. “I wanted to ask if I can have today off. I’d be back tomorrow by mid-day.”

“Today? Saturday?” he frowned. “Your days off are Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“I could take Mon-Monday off, if you think it’s bet-better...” she stammered. Then Barbara remembered Scott’s words, bit her lip for a second, looking down at her empty plate. She heard his sharp intake of breath. Then she said softly, “I’d like to visit my mother. She doesn’t live in London. She’s getting old and I haven’t seen her for some time.”

Hmm. Information, Ethan. An old mother is good leverage. He shifted on his chair, sitting more comfortably, and smiled at her, “Where does your mother live?”

Ethan was a master in subtly probing and manipulating others into relaxed and revealing conversations. He had made Sophia tell him many private things without realizing it. He didn’t mind using such methods to gather all the information he could in business or, he shrugged mentally, in personal affairs. In truth, he shared Machiavelli’s idea that the end justified the means.

He smiled and nodded to the woman in front of him, devoting all his attention to her.

Barbara didn’t know she was dealing with an extremely intelligent and perspicacious man as Ethan sometimes seemed to be just a rich, bored dandy. She knew he was the president of the board at Ashford Steel. She knew he was well-read and knowledgeable.

Nonetheless, Ethan masked his sharp mind and quick-wittedness very well.

Barbara smiled inwardly as she answered his questions and chatted away, revealing all he wanted to know. She thought that she could easily deceive and spellbind Ethan Ashford with her charms.

That would prove to be her greatest mistake.

Chapter 9

Ells Hall.

11.27 a.m.

Tavish’s gaze keep returning to Sophia as if he were hypnotized. He didn’t even notice Alistair’s dark scowl. He eyed Sophia as she lightly touched the horse with her heels and smiled as she talked to Lachlann.

She was mounting Craigdale Avenger, a surprise present from Lachlann. The stallion was a young Friesian Sporthorse with a long black and white mane and tail and feathers on his lower legs.

He was stunned by how easily she controlled the big and nervous horse. One might have guessed that she had trained Avenger from the way the horse responded to her. He spurred his horse and galloped to her side, flanking her, listening to their conversation.

He was so absorbed by his thoughts that he didn’t notice Alice’s approach.

She motioned for him to slow his horse and snapped, “Tavish Uilleam. Stop it. You’re provoking Alistair Connor.”

Tavish looked at his sister, surprised, “Provoking? What am I doing to provoke him?”

“Give Sophia some room. You know he’s fiercely jealous of her.”

Tavish looked over his shoulder to where Alistair was riding with Leonard. If looks could kill, he would have dropped dead in that instant. He laughed out loud and turned to Alice. “It’s good to see Alistair Connor like that. Better than to see him dispatching one woman after another. She has tamed him, Alice.”

“Don’t you believe it. If you keep hovering over Sophia, he might break your nose again. And it will be merited. Again.”

“The first time it wasn’t. It was Heather’s fault.”

“I know but you provoked-”

“Alice.” He thinned his lips for a second before saying, “Do you want to know the truth? Heather was more than a whore. She... They were perverted. She made a pass at me first. And since I didn’t accept... she hinted at Father. For a threesome with her or her sister. And Alistair.”

“Jesus, Tavish Uilleam. Alistair Connor proposed a threesome with his wife? That can’t be true.”

“No. Not him. She wanted it. That’s why I started to treat her like the whore she was. But I never had the heart to tell Alistair about it until recently. I didn’t deserve that punch.”

“I don’t know how, but she manipulated him into seeing only what she wanted him to see.”

“The truth is, he was putty in her hands. I don’t know why. But he was. That woman was a fucking good actress. And it seems, a good fuck, too. She-”

“Tavish Uilleam. Please.” Alice made a face at him, disgusted. “Back to Sophia and Alistair Connor. Don’t provoke him. Heather’s cheating turned him into a different man.” She sighed, “Did he ever talk to you?”

“Never. I bet he thinks we don’t even know about it.”

“That bitch. He was never the same.”

“No,” he shook his head slowly at his sister his gaze glued to Sophia’s back. “But I bet she can bring him back to us.”

The woman in front of him was completely different from any other his brother had ever had. But he couldn’t fathom what attracted Sophia to Alistair besides his good looks. She was too independent to enjoy being suffocated by Alistair’s dominant way.

“She’s an amazing horsewoman,” said Leonard trying to distract Alistair, who was almost foaming at the mouth with jealousy. “I didn’t know the vet had finish training that horse.”

Sophia had fallen in love with the beautiful, spirited horse at first sight and, not caring if it still wasn’t fully trained, demanded to ride it.

“She’s a witch. An enchantress,” Alistair avowed quietly as his powerful black Friesian stallion, Craigdale Beast, bucked, finding his owner’s unnerved state unusual. Alistair was too proud to admit, even to himself, that he resented his brother’s stare, that his distrust ran so deep that he felt insecure.

As if she could feel his need, Sophia turned and flashed him a shining smile, motioning with her head for him to join them. In a heartbeat, he was spellbound. Not only by her beauty, but also by her perfect timing.

And just like that, Alistair forgot his jealousy.

He inhaled deep as strange sensations filled him. Pride, desire, love. Hypnotized, he spurred his horse to flank Sophia, leaving a smiling Leonard behind.

9.53 p.m.

“Tonight, I want to surprise you,” Alistair murmured in Sophia’s ear as they moved from the dining room to the library. He paused at the door and whirled her in his arms, “Will you let me?”

Sophia looked up at his handsome face, searching for a clue, “A hint, please?”

His smile was sensuous and dark. “Blindfolds, ties and something more.”

“Mmm. Seems interesting,” she whispered on his lips and pulled him by the hand to enter the library where Lachlann was settling in for a game of chess with Leonard.

“Do you play, Sophia?” Alice asked while she sat with Tavish at another table. “We could have a tournament.”

“I only know the basics. I’d lose for sure.” She looked around the library and spotted a marble table for backgammon in the far corner. She craned her neck to look at Alistair and rubbed her hands together with a devious glint in her eyes. “Backgammon?”

“Depends on the prize, my lady,” he bowed.

“Choose.” You’re not going to win.

“You know what I want,” he spoke, his deep voice. As she shook her head, he bent and breathed in her ear, “Your ass. Two fingers, this time.”

She shuddered, uncertain, but forged on, “And if I win?”

“Choose,” he shrugged, confident. You’re not going to win.

She smiled mischievously at him, stood on her tiptoes and whispered back in his ear, “Your ass. One finger this time.”

Of course not. Alistair stood there transfixed by her proposition.

“Deal?” She tilted her head to the side, studying his face, and taunted, “Afraid, my lord?”

Aye. Not exactly a turn on for me, my lady. “But...” You know how to push my buttons, don’t you, Sophia? But you don’t know whom you’re dealing with. I’m the backgammon champion in the family. “Why don’t you chose another prize?” he smirked at her, schooling his features.

“Chicken,” she bit out softly.

Sophia. Don’t challenge me. He scowled down at her.

She shrugged, “You want mine, I’ll have yours.”

Difficult woman! “Best out of three?”

She nodded.

“But the prize won’t be collected tonight. I have other plans.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.” He stretched his hand to seal the deal. However the victorious smile that graced her face as she shook his hand, left him wondering if he had made the right choice.

The silence in the room was ominous. Alistair was unsettled. Sophia was a very good player. They were even and she was already winning the last game.

Sophia drank her whisky and rattled the dice in the leather cup, slowly, enjoying the tension. With a deft flick of her hand, she threw them on the center of the table and drummed her nails on the marble, studying the possibilities. She moved her checkers and left a blot with the deliberate intention of it being hit by Alistair, yielding his point.

“Tempt? When you are almost ready to bear off? You don’t need this.” Alistair lifted an ink-black eyebrow at her and she lifted one of hers back at him. “Are you sure?”

I want to win with backgammon. “Makes the game even more interesting.” She flashed her avenging angel smile at him. “I double the stakes,” she turned the doubling cube to two. And, wiggling her brows, put up two united fingers.

I’m calling your bluff, Sophia. “Take it. And beaver.” He turned the doubling cube from two to four, with a devious smile.

Sure of yourself, uh? You’re going to lose this game, Alistair Connor. “Ready for raccoon?” She picked up the cube, waiting for his answer.

Not bluffing? Hmm. He surveyed the table, licked his lips, uncertain, then nodded. She put it down with the eight facing up.

“How much was the initial bet?” Lachlann, who was perched on a chair beside Sophia, asked her.

Sophia bursted out laughing, embarrassed, and asked Alistair with her eyes as to what she should answer.

“We didn’t bet money,” he answered his father, cryptically.

“Roll your dice, Alistair Connor,” Tavish coached, hovering over Alistair’s shoulder. “This game is just getting interesting.”

Alistair rattled the dice in the cup and put it down on the table, praying for fours or fives, but a four-five would do too.

Sophia toed off one of her pumps and, with her stockinged foot, pushed up the hem of Alistair’s wool trousers, caressing his shin. He inhaled sharply and lost track of what he was doing, his eyes flying up to lock with hers. She had an amused look on her face.

“You praying?” she mocked, jutting her chin to the cup still turned upside down.

Tavish and Lachlann laughed.

And Alistair lifted the cup. The dices showed three-six. He huffed. No way back. I’m still on the bar.

Alice and Leonard, who had just finished their game, approached.

“What’s so funny?” Leonard asked, surveying the game board. “Oh, no! The mighty Alistair Connor is going to lose to a woman.”

An intelligent woman. “Leo, stop,” Alistair admonished.

Tavish pulled up a chair for Alice. “Sit, sis. This is too interesting to miss. They’re even. Best out of three.”

Leonard flanked Sophia as she picked up the dice and muttered quietly, “Doublet,” throwing them.

When they stopped, Alice swung her fist in the air and shouted, “Double deuces!”

“Changing sides, Sister?” Alistair grumbled.

“Maybe,” Alice smiled sweetly at him.

“You are doomed, Alistair Connor,” Lachlann chortled as Sophia moved her blot forward and bore off three checkers with a smug smile on her face. “Did you know, Sophia, that Alistair Connor rarely loses a game of backgammon?”

“Yeah?” She raised an elegant eyebrow. “There’s always a first time, Lachlann.”

You are enjoying this, aren’t you, Sophia? Wait until I show you what I have in store for tonight. “I haven’t lost yet, Father.”

The dice gave her the opportunity to close all her home board impeding Alistair’s entrance to the board. She smiled gently at Alistair, “Sorry, my dear.”

Alistair’s uneasiness grew as they played for a few more turns and Sophia kept steadily ahead of him.

Sophia rolled the dice three more times and bore off leaving two open points for Alistair to enter and move all his checkers on his own board, with a five-five.

Tavish pulled up a chair, sitting as he teased Alistair. “She’s going to win by gammon.”

“Only due to absurd luck,” he replied, and motioned to Sophia, unsmiling. “Your turn.” You are so going to choose another prize, Sophia.

“Now...” Sophia put her hand over the cup and brought it to her ear, closing her eyes and shaking it. She smiled as she felt Alistair’s foot moving up her calf, but it didn’t break her concentration. She put the cup down with determination, stating firmly, “Double sixes.” And motioned for Lachlann to lift the cup, “Please, Lachlann, do the honors.”

They all bent over the board as Lachlann carefully lifted the cup from the board. The dice showed six-six.

Sophia wanted to smile and gloat, but she schooled her features and said simply, “Gammon.”

I don’t believe it. Alistair gaped at her, “How did you do that?”

“Quoting you, absurd luck,” she shrugged, modestly.

Tavish slapped his brother on the shoulder, “Shame on you, Brother.”

“So, how much did you win, Sophia?” Leonard asked.

Alistair’s ass. “Leonard, you know I don’t bet money.” She rose from the chair and stretched, smiling mischievously. She walked to Alistair, hand extended to greet a fair opponent. “Thanks for the game.”

As they shook hands, Sophia murmured, “You must be wondering how you’re going to pay your debt.”

Alistair yanked her hand and she fell on his hard body, winding her arms around his waist. “You are playing with fire, Sophia.”

She threw her head back and laughed before whispering back to him, “But it’s you who will get burnt.”

Alistair shook his head, baffled. He didn’t even want to think about what Sophia planned to do.

11.36 p.m.

Damn! Sophia’s smiled waned as she exited the dressing room.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing at the riding crop lying on the bed next to four lengths of rope and a black scarf.

Alistair didn’t move from the armchair where he was finishing his Armagnac. He stretched his hand beckoning her to him. “Come sit by me. I want to explain something to you.”

He saw hesitation in her eyes as she stared at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, frozen in the middle of his huge bedroom. He looked her over and his cock applauded the black transparent wrap that left her long legs encased in shadows. Under it, she was wearing a black lace nightie that clung to her body like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. She whirled on her heels and walked to the bay window, pushing the curtain aside. The garden view didn’t soothe her fears, though.

“Trust me?”

Sophia jumped when Alistair spoke near her ear. She hadn’t heard his approaching footsteps.

He brushed her hair back and, grasping her chin in his hand, he tilted her head to the side so he could look into her eyes, “Can you do this? For me?”

That’s enough, Sophia. A slap or two, okay. But a crop? She squared her shoulders and breathed deep. “Alistair, I’m not Heather.” She was glad her voice was even because inside she was quivering. “I told you yesterday. I don’t like pain or violence. It doesn’t turn me on. If I do this for you, and it would be only because of your... predilection and for your... pleasure, and I’ll hate myself tomorrow.” She turned and searched his eyes. “Have you always been like this?”

Nae, I have not. His arms went around her body. “No, but... Please?”

She stiffened. “Don’t bring Heather into our bed.”

She’s right. A bitter taste filled his mouth. Will I ever be free? “Relax, Sophia. I’m not going to do it if you don’t like it.” His hands caressed her back and her hair gently. She’s trembling. Fuck, Alistair Connor. Don’t you learn from the mistakes you’ve made? “Shhh.”

“You scare the hell out of me sometimes, you know?” Sophia murmured, trying to put her thoughts in order. But the arms that enveloped her took away any coherence she tried to achieve. “I don’t understand. But I can try... Not in bed, but in theory, if you explain it to me.” She wound her arms around his waist, her hands searching for the warmth of his back. “You don’t need violence to feel pleasure. You respond to my touch and I’ve seen you climax many times without having to resort to that.” She gazed into his eyes and they were tortured. “Do you trust me?”

“Aye,” he breathed and squeezed her in his arms as he lowered his head to kiss her. She tastes sweet. Sweet and tempting. Just like she looks.

Alistair’s warmth blanketed Sophia as the kiss deepened and she let her fears ebb away. But she wouldn’t be deterred from her goal. She broke the kiss and asked on his lips, “I want to do something. Will you let me?”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment before whispering, “Anything.”

“All right.” She breathed deeply and pulled him by the hand. “Strip and lie down in the center of bed.”

He eyed her quizzically, but did as he was told, his eyes glued on her as she took off her wrap.

“Lie down,” she repeated the order and picked up the crop and ropes from the bed, putting them on the desk in the corner. When she returned to the bed, he was lying naked, propped on his elbows, watching her hungrily. His arousal evidenced his desire for her.

“Very well.” She paused at the end of the bed and pulled off her nightie. She bit her lip as she picked up the black scarf. She crawled on the bed and knelt beside him, showing the scarf. “You were going to use this as a blindfold, right?” He nodded. “Close your eyes, then.” She tied the blindfold and lightly pushed him back in the bed. “Lie down and don’t move. No matter what I do. Okay?”

“You can tie me up if you want.” He barely recognized the husky sound that left his throat.

“No. You will exercise your control. Don’t move and don’t touch me.”

“Aye,” he breathed. Aye, mistress.

She lightly put a fingertip in between his collarbones and moved it outward to his broad left shoulder. The tip of her tongue followed the dry caress.

Alistair suffered her slow exploration of his arms and chest. He held on to the sheets to stop his hands from grabbing Sophia and impaling her with his erection.

Fuck. My nipples. He moaned low as she grazed his nipples with her nails and lavished them with her tongue. Her hair caressed his abdomen making the muscles tense up.

“If you mean to torture me,” he gritted out, “you’re doing an excellent job of it.”

“Am I?” She placed her fingers over his collarbones again. She was deliberately teasing him. “I’m going to show you what pleasure really is.”

“Sophia.”

“If you move, I’ll start it all over again,” she threatened.

She worshipped and explored his body at a leisurely pace, making him delirious with desire. Every small inch of it received the attention of her fingers and tongue, but for his ignored cock that strained for her attention, arching up to his navel.

Too spellbound to do otherwise, Alistair simply lay there and endured the sweet torture, struggling to keep his climax at bay.

His breath was so uneven and shaky that Sophia smiled on his skin.

Fuck. Unable to resist, Alistair searched blindly for her hand and gripped it around his erection, curling his fingers over hers.

“I told you not to move.”

“Sophia. I’m dying here.”

She obliged him for a few tantalizing strokes.

“So. Fucking. Good,” he gasped. The relief was immediate, intense. And nowhere near enough. “That’s it, sweetheart. Now, take me in your mouth.”

Sophia stilled her hand, still gripping him tightly. “I’m a woman of my word, my lord. You moved. I have to start all over again.” She slid her hand up again. “Although, I have to confess that I quite like your cock.”

Fuck. She drives me wild when she talks like that.

But this time Sophia started with his face. Eyebrows, cheekbones, lips, the line of his nose. Her light touch was thorough and indiscriminate.

He found himself nuzzling onto her touch. He exhaled until his lungs were empty.

Her fingertip smoothed his lips and her tongue followed.

A delicate cascade of pleasure rippled through him and he raised his head and took her mouth in a desperate kiss. Her fingers plunged into his hair and he moaned. He never thought such simple and light caresses could be so arousing.

“We’re supposed to be making love,” he whispered in a strangle voice.

“That’s what I’m doing. Making love to your beautiful body.” Her voice betrayed her desire and he knew she was enjoying her power.

“You can do better.”

“I will. Patience.” Her tongue followed her fingertips down his chest and she nibbled his nipple.

He groaned.

“Better, Alistair Connor?” she mocked.

“Better.” Almost.

She licked his navel and made her way down to his straining erection.

His breath was a painful rasp in his throat. He couldn’t take much more of this. He felt her softly blowing on the head of his cock and then the wet tip of her tongue. She delicately swirled it around the broad head.

“Sophia, please.”

When her mouth found him, he let out a strangled shout, “Yes.”

It was sweet pain as she slowly glided her tongue over the smooth head. He was almost afraid to thrust up in her mouth and have her start again. She shifted on the bed, arranging herself in a better position and rested her hands on his hips. She put all her weight on her hands keeping him in place and engulfed his arousal in her mouth, sucking him in as deep as she could.

A feral need clawed its way through Alistair’s body as Sophia licked and sucked him with tantalizing movements of her mouth. She was exposing an old need that had been studded in the deepest layer of his being. And she was doing nothing out of the normal. He was being stripped bare of all his control.

She shifted again, pushing his legs wider apart and he felt her soft breasts, tipped with her chilled nipples caressing his thighs.

She delighted in the contrast of his coarse hairs with her soft skin. Alistair tasted just like he smelled, sweet and all male. And she wanted more. She wanted it all.

She wanted to show him she could make him come wildly apart in her arms. She drew him in deeper in long swipes of her head and he grunted and heaved, the sheets fisted in his hands.

Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. “I’m going to-” He growled loudly, as her teeth grazed the head of his cock and she squeezed his balls lightly in her hand. She ran her tongue down the underside of his arousal and sucked one of his balls in her mouth, while her hand worked his length.

“Stop,” he choked out.

She took him again in her mouth and massaged his perineum with her thumb and, just like that, his control was gone.

He shouted her name as he reached for her, shoving his hands in her long hair as he came in her mouth, his hips jerking up with the force of his orgasm.

Exhausted and spent, he laid there gasping for air, struggling to make sense of what had just happened.

It seemed to him that his body had exploded in a million pieces and someone had yet to mend him.

His mind was so fuzzy that he didn’t even notice as Sophia went to the bathroom and returned with a warm moist towel. He felt her tender ministrations as she cleaned him and untied the blindfold. He blinked when the soft light of the room reached his eyes, focusing on her smiling face.

He raised on his elbows to look at her better.

“Was it good?” She was sitting by his side, naked, leaning on her hand, her feet tucked under her bent legs.

Good?! He shook his head, “Nae. It was...” How to qualify the best orgasm of one’s life? “I’ve never had such a powerful orgasm. Every time I’m with you, it gets better and better.” He pushed a lock of her long hair behind her ear and traced its shell with his finger. “You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.” He pulled her for a kiss.

Love is the most powerful medicine, Alistair Connor.

He broke the kiss and nonchalantly asked, “And what about your ass?”

“You owe me yours now.”

“Dream on, my lady,” he snorted. “Back to yours, you liked when I penetrated you with my finger.”

She blushed and he sniggered.

Why does he need to be so blunt? “One finger, Alistair Connor,” she snapped. “Not your... your...”

“Dick, prick, cock, shaft, rod-”

“Penis!” She jumped off the bed, her cheeks light pink.

He laughed, amused and endeared.

She shoved her hands into her hair, aggravated, “There is nothing funny about this.” She stomped her foot on the rug.

He laughed even more, “I love it when you stomp your beautiful foot. It makes me want to spank you.”

“I’m not spankable-” she paused at the weird word. “Alistair Connor, my ass is not available at the moment.”

At the moment. Mmm. That’s a good sign. “Okay, okay. No need to be mad at me. We’ll take a rain check.” His smile was wicked as he patted the bed beside him.

She crawled back to his side and sat there looking at him.

“One more thing to introduce you to, Beauty,” he mused, “I like it.”

She made a face at him.

“Now.” His eyes flashed green as he tumbled her down on the mattress with a naughty smile on his lips, “I want to... reciprocate your torture.”

Chapter 10

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

Sunday, March 21st, 2010.

11.42 a.m.

Ethan stepped onto the veranda and leaned over the glass rail, looking down at the always busy London, in deep thought.

He was feeling melancholic and utterly alone, in spite of the beautiful woman waiting for him inside. He knew that he wasn’t like other men. He knew his inability to connect to those around him was a fault in him. He’d had this difficulty since the day he discovered his puppy dog dead. And Eve’s betrayal only made it worse. He couldn’t feel that fierce pain again. The only person that made his heart beat and his interest sparkle unselfishly was Sophia. It troubled him that he kept thinking of her so often. Even if he tried not to, his thoughts keep returning to her. He knew he needed to love someone other than her, but his heart was taken. There was no space for another woman.

All he could do was watch for clues. Small hints that could bring her back to him. He congratulated himself on how well his plans where developing.

Although he’d always been rich and had received a large inheritance when his grandfather died, Ethan endeavored to achieve the things he wanted. He took charge of his destiny and, most times, he was successful in gaining what he wanted.

“Ethan,” Barbara softly called his name, walking to his side.

He turned his eyes away from the view and was caught by the beauty of her profile. He wondered how two women could be so alike and not be sisters.

However there were small differences.

Barbara had a slightly bigger nose and less plump mouth. She was taller and had bigger breasts. And her eyes were blue as he had seen once, when she had taken out her yellow contact lenses to sleep. That was the only time she made that mistake. The next day, she had ordered new lenses she could wear when sleeping.

She put a hand on his bare forearm and caressed it with her red nails. He briefly closed his eyes and she smirked inside.

“Ethan, my dear, I was wondering if you didn’t want to have lunch somewhere? Or maybe do something different? We could go to the Royal Academy of Arts. There is a fantastic exhibit on Van Gogh and his letters. Have you seen it?” She bit her lip for a second and looked at him from behind her discretely mascara rimmed lashes. She saw his azure eyes lighten up and he pulled her in his arms for a kiss.

Barbara had done her homework. She had studied the file Scott provided her with Sophia’s work and hobbies. She had spent hours analyzing the short phone videos Scott had sent her and had repeated Sophia’s gestures and facial expressions in front of the mirror until she mimicked them perfectly. She had sent Ethan’s secretary a list of items for her wardrobe which she thought would be more similar to Sophia’s style.

Barbara had asked her best friend to help her until she was sure everything was as perfect as it could be. She had even skimmed some of the ebooks Sophia had bought recently, discovered thanks to Scott’s hacker friend. She was lucky she was a well-read woman; she wondered how Sophia managed to read so many books in so little time. As for the fitness part, she had no problems with that. Sure, she was seven years older, but she was addicted to sports and working out, had always kept in shape, had many skin treatments done and she had no kids. She seemed younger than Sophia even. Her skin was unblemished and as soft as that of a newborn baby.

Ethan broke the kiss slowly, nibbling her lip with his teeth, combing her silky hair with his fingers. Lustful thoughts of his time with Sophia played as an erotic video in his mind. He rubbed the tip of his index finger down her neck and dipped it in her neckline, skimming her bra. Her breath hitched.

He didn’t know if she was liking it or not. And he couldn’t care less. He was past those banal principals and morals. He was not interested in her feelings or emotions. He was the one that should be pleased. He was Ethan Ashford.

He had gained Barbara’s total loyalty when he lent her the money to pay the loan sharks, without interest. He made her sign a promissory note, but he hinted that if she pleased him, he would never demand payment. And she was doing a great job at pleasing him. His lips curled up. “Where do you want to have lunch?” Sophia is not in London, anyway. No chance of bumping into her or MacCraig.

“China Tang, at The Dorchester?”

Ethan’s smile grew as he recalled his lunch with Sophia there. “I love that restaurant. Make reservations for one-thirty. Then meet me in my room.” The back of his hand brushed her nipple. “I want to appease another hunger before we leave.”

Atwood House.

6.55 p.m.

“Okay, little girl,” Sophia clapped her hands at Gabriela who was comfortably seated on Alistair’s lap. “Time for bed. Now.”

“But, Mama-”

“Don’t you but me. It’s seven o’clock. Time for you to go to bed.”

Gabriela pouted at her mother and then turned her head, looking at Alistair for help. He just smiled at her and motioned his head to Sophia.

“Five minutes more, Mama, pleeeease.”

Sophia looked at her watch and sighed, “Okay. But only five.”

Gabriela beamed at her mother, “Thank you, Mama.” She turned to Alistair and asked, “Tell me another story, please?”

“A short one,” he said as Sophia sat on the sofa beside them and put Gabriela’s bare feet over her lap.

Alistair smiled at Sophia, as he started the story, “Once upon a time, there was a prince. He was very tall, handsome and rich. But he didn’t have a princess-”

“What was his name?”

“Ronnoc Riatsila,” he promptly said and winked at Sophia.

“Ugh! What an ugly name.” Gabriela puckered her turned-up nose. “Are you sure he was a prince?”

“Aye. I’m sure,” he smiled, delighted. “So. The prince was very much alone in his big, big castle. One day, he decided to hold a contest to find his bride. All the women in his kingdom would have to go.”

“Only the beautiful ones,” Gabriela said. “Princes can’t marry ugly princesses.”

“Very well. Only the beautiful ones.” His grin broadened as he put an arm over Sophia’s shoulder and pulled her closer.

She sighed happily and nestled herself on his side, listening to the story of the prince called Ronnoc Riatsila, thinking that she wanted his princess to be called Aihpos.

The City of London Bank Headquarters.

Thursday, May 15th, 2008.

4.59 p.m.

“But can’t my driver just pick up the prescription?” Alistair paused as he listened to what Doctor Lodes’s secretary told him on the phone. “Aye, of course. I’ll be there.” He hung up and rubbed a hand on his neck. What could be this urgent? It’s just a prescription.

He left his office with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Lodes’s Clinic.

5.47 p.m.

“Hello, Doctor Ben. How are you?” Alistair hugged the doctor and entered his office. “How are Aunt Elizabeth and Mark?”

“Everyone’s fine, son. Everyone’s fine,” Doctor Lodes repeated as if to assure himself that what he said was true. He motioned for Alistair to sit on the sofa at the end of his office.

Alistair frowned at the strange behavior but complied, sitting on the comfortable gray sofa and stretching his legs. He was tired. He had been working like a mad man lately. “I haven’t seen Mark for a long time. He’s disappeared.”

Doctor Lodes scratched his bald head and sat next to Alistair on the sofa. “You have been too busy to see your friends, Alistair Connor. Mark got married last month. We missed you at the wedding.”

“What?” Alistair sat up on the sofa. Mark was one of his best friends. “I didn’t get the invitation.”

“We sent it to your apartment. Heather rang us and talked to Beth. It seems you had a trip planned.”

“We did travel, but I would have postponed it if I had known that Mark was getting married. It wasn’t that important. We went to Saint Barths for the weekend to celebrate our anniversary which was in February.”

“Well, too late now, son.” Doctor Lodes shrugged. “See that you don’t miss Johansson’s wedding in two weeks. His father told me that Heather has declined as well.”

What? Alistair’s mouth fell open. What’s going on?

“Did you receive the last results from Heather’s exams?” Doctor Lodes continued.

Oh, damn. I forgot Heather’s exams. And Emma’s. I don’t even know if they did them after the treatment. Alistair looked sheepishly at the older man and shook his head.

The doctor’s face showed no surprise. “Well then. Alistair Connor, I don’t want you to become nervous with what I’m going to tell you.”

“Too late for that, Doctor Ben. I’ve been freaked out since our appointment in December.” Alistair almost laughed. But his doctor and friend had such a stern expression on his face that he knew this was no time for humor.

“My boy, I received confirmation that the moxifloxacin was effective and that the bacteria were eliminated. Nonetheless... It took too long to diagnose and the damage... Treatments are evolving and maybe in the future they can reverse what’s happened-”

“You’re scaring me, Doctor Ben,” Alistair shifted on the sofa and leaned toward the doctor to better look at his soft brown eyes.

The doctor thinned his lips and looked away for an instant.

When he looked back, his face showed a piercing sadness. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, Alistair Connor. I’ve known you all your life and I love you as if you were my own son.” He shook his bald head and a cold dreariness sifted through Alistair’s bones. “But the test results arrived this morning. I still had hope...” He inhaled deep, rested his hand over Alistair’s and blurted, “Son, I’m sorry, but the disease has made you infertile.”

Atwood House.

Sunday, March 21st, 2010.

8.06 p.m.

“She slept, finally,” Sophia said, entering the TV room with two wine glasses hanging upside down on her fingers and a bottle of Romanée Conti and halted as she saw Alistair’s sleeping face. He was sitting on the sofa, his head resting on a pillow, bent sideways, and his bare feet propped on one of the low square velvet ottomans placed near the sofa.

In the peaceful gloom of the room, he looked younger than his thirty-five years, with his absurdly long lashes making shadows on his cheeks and his long bangs falling over his forehead. The book he had taken from her shelf to read had fallen on the floor, and was standing vertically, perched on its covers.

Sophia approached quietly and put the bottle and the glasses soundlessly on the side table. She bent down to pick up the book and frowned when she saw the tittle. Les Misérables? Why so sad, Alistair Connor?

She put the book next to the wine and served herself, admiring the handsome man on her sofa. She found it unsettling to see him like this, so defenseless and unguarded.

Sophia didn’t feel protective toward him except when he told her about Nathalie and Heather.

Alistair was always so sure of himself, so in control and unwavering in his positions and ideas. He seemed bigger than life. But lying there, he looked so vulnerable. So in need of care and love.

She sat beside him on the sofa, lightly caressing his hair, as she savored the wine.

His brows drew tight and his hands clenched in his lap as his breathing became rough. He opened his emerald eyes, startled, searching for her.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” she whispered as he blinked and straightened himself on the sofa.

“Nae, it’s okay,” he shook his head. “I guess I’m tired. I didn’t sleep very well last night.” He rubbed his eyes and picked up the book from the side table, leafing through it in silence.

Sophia peered at the page he had stopped. She had marked a sentence. ‘Man has upon him his flesh, which is at once his burden and his temptation.’

He flicked his gaze at her and back to the book.

Hmm, not good. Not good at all. “So, what do you want to do?”

“It’s up to you,” his fingers touched the marked line as he answered her, absentminded. “Anything. I’m not really hungry.” And you won’t be either after I tell you the rest of my wretched story.

She studied his expression as she poured him some wine and handed him the glass, “What is it, Alistair?”

“Nothing,” he said, drinking the wine, avoiding her eyes. “Hmm, this is good.” He picked up the bottle and feigned interest in it. “You have a peculiar way of reading.” Where is my courage? “I’ve never seen anyone so thoroughly mark and comment a book.”

“Les Misérables has lots of interesting passages. Many intertwined plots with many different characters.” Alistair Connor, I know you by now. There’s something nagging you. Sophia sipped her wine as she watched Alistair run his hand over the back of his neck, nervously.

Tell her the whole truth. “Aye, the main thread is the story of the ex-convict...”

“Yes. Jean Valjean...” she supplied, wondering where the conversation would lead.

“Aye. Do you believe it is possible?”

“What?” What? What are you really asking me?

“That by a magnanimous gesture of a fellow man, the bishop, in this case, the warped spirit of a convicted man could be redeemed?” Can I be too? “Valjean was blinded by bitter rage for being condemned for so many years by stealing a loaf of bread. Such a small act of despair.” He kept his eyes glued on the book while he quietly spoke, as if he were talking to himself.

“An act of despair? Even though it was committed in despair, it was still a crime. And he had to pay for it. The issue was that his punishment was disproportionate to the crime. He served nineteen years before he was put on parole. On parole, for the rest of his life.”

You didn’t answer my question, Counsellor. “But do you believe he could be saved, spiritually speaking? That someone who had committed that many sins, who was so degraded, could nonetheless be led to believe in the righteous way?”

Hmm. What do you want to hear? Innocent or guilty? “Yes, I do believe it. Valjean is guided to the light once more,” she stressed the last two words, “because he was a good man. His intentions were never evil, despite his crime.”

“Let’s assume he could be saved...” He raked a hand in his hair, unsettled.

“He was saved, Alistair Connor. More than once. It was as if... All he needed was a second chance. And he was given second chances throughout his life. And he took them all; the bishop’s kind gesture, the gardener at the convent who was a refugee are just two of them. Loving and caring people who weren’t mislead by his appearance, or his disguises, extended him a hand which he took and used it to better himself.”

A second chance. “But even having accepted a new path, he never could escape his dark past, could he? Javert, I mean.”

Uh-uh. This doesn’t sound good. Sophia waited for him to continue, but it was clear Alistair wanted an answer to his question. “No, he could not because Javert could never understand the power of redemption. He was unyielding, strict, blinded by the supposedly infallible nature of the law. His suicide is proof of his incomprehension. And also the absence of a kind bishop to lead him onto the good path.” She took the book from his hands and started looking for a specific passage. “We must believe there’s always a chance for those who want to be saved. And this book is all about appearances, disguises, understanding and redemption. Jean Valjean’s, French society’s and even Javert’s. The police officer, who was obsessed with right and wrong, spent all his life trying to atone for his parents’ sins by being irreproachable. And, even though he was wrong in the eyes of religion, he redeemed his own sin, the lack of understanding, of goodness, of mercy, by committing suicide because he couldn’t bear the agony of living between his duty to the law and his debt to Valjean.”

“You know the book well.” Alistair drank some more wine.

Oh, yes, I do. I’m still trying to redeem myself. But no one’s giving me a hand to hold onto. Sophia sighed softly and mused, “One can always say that Javert is our conscience. The ever-lurking presence of the law and our own condemnation. The tension between who we were and who we are and who we can be. Javert represents that inescapable, shameful past that forever haunts and pursues one’s conscience. There isn’t a worse judge than a guilty conscience. Javert is the man of the law, and... There are no surprises with the law. The principle of retribution is simple and monotonous, like Euclidean logic. It’s closed to all alternatives and shut up against divine or human intervention... Indeed, Javert represents the merciless application of the law, the blind Justice that in the end is befuddled by hope and the possibility of redemption without punishment.” She almost gasped the last word as she understood why he had picked up the book.

She looked up to find Alistair’s gaze locked on her face. She settled her leg on the sofa, put her hand on his check and said softly, “Does redemption always have to be achieved through violence and punishment or is it possible through gentler traits, such as love, understanding and peace?”

Will you give me a second chance? Alistair closed his eyes and leaned his face on her hand.

“No one is past redemption, Alistair Connor, if one wills it.”

So optimistic, Sophia. He had never wanted to believe in someone’s opinion so much. He felt like crying such was the despair and the hope that warred within him.

“What is it?” she asked softly. “Talk to me.”

He looked at the window panes. Rain poured outside as if the weather understood his mood.

“I need to tell you something,” Alistair spoke quietly.

“Tell me, then.” Sophia straightened herself on the sofa and looked at him. What she saw sent a cold shiver through her spine and dread pooled in her heart. “What is it?”

“I... I didn’t tell you my whole story.” He swirled his wine in the glass and stared at it for a long time. “I never explained to you how I discovered that Heather was cheating on me.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck again.

Sophia’s heartbeats increased to a thousand per minute. Oh, please, leave Heather’s ghost outside my home. “You don’t need to. It’s an unpleasant subject so...” she murmured.

“Well, I never claimed to be sane, did I?” Alistair refilled her glass with wine and blurted the truth before he could repent. “Heather... She gave me a rare STD, Mycoplasma genitalium. The usual tests didn’t detect it. The treatment started too late... After more than a year. It was successful, but... the prolonged infection...” He was watching her face carefully, waiting for the shock to appear. “Sophia... I’m sterile.”

Sophia paled and didn’t utter a word. She was incapable of speaking, of any kind of coherent thought.

Unbidden, an image took shape in her mind - a large, black-haired, rugged man sprawled on the rug of her TV room with a dark-haired boy, the spitting image of his father, lying on his chest. She heard the child’s giggles over a deeper rumbling laughter - she could see them, there, only a few feet away from her. She almost reached out to touch them.

In her mind, she did. She stretched out her hand to the man’s familiar shoulder, hard and stable as rock. Light shined on their black windblown locks. Unable to help herself, completely fascinated, she reached out, hesitantly, for the child’s face. And beautiful forest green eyes so like his father’s blinked playfully at her. As she watched the scene, she felt a chilling cold spread through her whole body.

She prayed. Prayed for a booming voice to say that Alistair was not sterile. That it was all a huge mistake. But then a horrible black shadow fell over the room and extinguished the light. It swallowed the image whole, banishing it to the realm of unattainable dreams.

Emotion welled up, unlike any she’d known. Tears filled her eyes and she almost sobbed with the grief that permeated her soul. Dazed and faint, she shook her head.

There. I knew it. “Say something,” he pleaded in a whisper, afraid to touch her and be repelled. “Anything...”

“Are you sure?” Was all she could ask in a voice so low that he more divined than heard the words.

He breathed deep and told her about the awful day when Doctor Ben had given his final verdict.

“There’s no doubt. I can’t have any more children.” His voice was so laden with pain that Sophia shoved her own deep down in her soul.

A thousand thoughts invaded her mind as she tried to sort out what she knew about that disease. Nothing came to her mind. Sophia had never worried about STDs. But she made a mental note to gather all the information she could about it. “And why-” Why would you think it would matter to me?

Why am I telling you this now? “I’m sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair, humiliated. “I should have told you from the beginning.” Christ! “But it makes me feel... less of a man. Our relationship is getting serious and I know you want more children. I don’t want you to become more involved, if I can’t fulfill your dreams.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly, but watching her closely for a reaction. “I think it’s only fair so you can decide if you want to conti-”

Sophia put a finger on his lips. “You didn’t let me finish my question.” She felt a sharp pain slice her heart in a million pieces. “Why do you think it would matter to me?”

What? He remained silent, as if struck by a blow.

Her voice was soothing when she asked, “If it were the other way round, would you not have me? Would it be over for you?”

He gasped, indignant and scowled at her, “I would have you in any way, Sophia.”

She scooted closer to him. “So would I.” Her fingers interlaced with his and she squeezed gently. “So will I.”

“But, my love, I don’t want-”

“Shhh,” she put her fingers on his mouth and browsed the book. “Here, read.”

Alistair read the passage she was pointing at.

And read again.

He raised his eyes seeking her help, because he wished it to be true but needed confirmation.

She knew that the help he was asking was not for translation. His French was better than hers. Anyway, she read out loud in English, “‘You no longer belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I buy from you; I withdraw it from black thoughts and the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God.’” She looked up and fixed his gaze with hers, “The bishop bought Valjean’s soul when he gave him the two candlesticks, because it was what Valjean needed. Now, Alistair Connor, I’m buying your soul. It’s not such a high price to pay, is it?”

“Not being able to have children?”

She smiled softly, “That’s only one way of having children. There are others. We could adopt.”

I have been so ignorant. His chest constricted at the kindness of this beautiful woman. This is what real love is all about.

Chapter 11

London, The City. Ashford Steel Industries.

Tuesday, March 23rd, 2010.

10.08 a.m.

“Mr. Ashford?” Scott asked.

Ethan blinked, focusing on his assistant, who had just interrupted his musings.

“May I come in, sir?” Scott asked, with a big grin on his thin face.

“Yes, of course.” Ethan nodded, already intrigued by what his assistant had to say. His smiles were very rare as he seemed to be always afraid of Ethan’s opinion.

Scott entered the room and put the folder he was carrying in front of Ethan. “Sir, Mrs. Chanda, the president-”

“I know who she is, Scott,” Ethan said impatiently. “What about her?”

“Sir, it’s wonderful. They have already created a new strategy for the contribution you wanted to make in India and China and she just called saying they are ready to discuss it with you. I took the liberty of scheduling them for Friday, at eleven, here, if it is okay with you, sir.”

“Good,” a smile spread over Ethan’s now permanently shaved face. He turned to his computer and quickly scanned his schedule for that day. Scott had already booked the hour. “I’m sure you made certain that Ms. Leibowitz is going to be at the meeting.”

“Mrs. Chanda said that Ms. Leibowitz is personally supervising this project. I think, sir, that we should plan a charity gala event to launch it. Maybe a black tie ball. The Leibowitz Foundation and Ashford Steel together.”

“That has a nice ring to it, Scott. I’ll talk about it with Sophia. Please, make reservations for lunch after the meeting. At one o’clock. At L’Atelier. Inform Chef Olivier that I’ll be celebrating a business transaction and that I want the last table by the living wall. Scott, make sure that Sophia and I are both seated on the sofa. I don’t want a single table.”

“Sir, perhaps a restaurant with a private and cozy room?”

“Hmm. No, I don’t think so.” Ethan thinned his lips and shook his head. “Sophia is still with MacCraig. She wouldn’t like it. You can start planning the charity ball. Show me your ideas before the meeting so I can talk her into it.”

Scott put his narrow shoulders back and puffed his thin chest, proud of himself. “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure the Leibowitz and Ashford ball is as spectacular as the two people who name it.”

“Please, inform Carter that I have scheduled a conference call with Mr. Chang, from Ashford China, at 10 p.m. today, and that I’ll need him.”

“Yes, Mr. Ashford. I’ll stay later too, preparing everything for the ball.” Scott smiled inwardly. “Ah, and I have news. Good news. Ghost has already started to work on the Leibowitz network.”

Ethan smiled like a child that been given a much wanted toy. “Good, Scott. Very good. Keep me informed, please.”

“Of course, Mr. Ashford.” There was no doubt in Scott’s mind that his boss’s weakness was Sophia Leibowitz. And to keep him pleased and the bonuses coming into his bank account, he would do everything. Anything.

Atwood House.

Wednesday, March 24th, 2010.

7.28 p.m.

“No, Alistair, I can’t,” Sophia propped the handset between her cheek and her shoulder as she walked to her bookshelf looking for a book, “not tonight.”

“Again?” I shouldn’t have told her. She is keeping me away. “Sophia, I miss you. Somewhere simple, something quick.”

It has been only three days. “Alistair, my dear... I’m tired. My day was just terrible. I got stuck in a huge traffic jam on the way back from Cambridge; Edward is still ill; and my computer crashed twice at the end of the day.” She singled out the book she was looking for and walked back to her desk. “I brought some work home, but Gabriela demanded my attention. I’m reviewing a pro bono case that Paul Evergreen discussed with me today.”

Almost the same excuse she used on Monday and yesterday. “Not even a quick dinner?”

“Hmm. Maybe later.” She put the call on speaker, opened the file she was working on and started to type. “And somewhere casual, I don’t feel like dressing up tonight.”

He breathed relieved at the other end of the line. “Anywhere would be great.”

She frowned and deleted an incoherent sentence she had just typed, absentmindedly agreeing, “Mm-hmm.”

Alistair looked at his watch in the dim light of his car. “In let’s say... Fifteen minutes?”

“Alistair Connor, I...” Giving up her work, she swiveled her chair. “Why don’t you have dinner here with me instead? In two and a half hours. It would give me time to finish the pro bono case and a quick shower.”

“Only if you wait for me to take your shower. I want to wash your back.”

“My back. Right,” she laughed. “While I would love to shower with you, I can’t spare the time, Handsome.”

You can’t spare me time... He frowned, worried and aggravated. “I’ll be there in two hours then.” He crossed his fingers before he asked, “Do you want to sleep with me tonight? Here?”

“I can’t. I had to cancel my fencing class today and I moved it to tomorrow morning. Why don’t you sleep here? I’ll make up for the lost shower. When you come for dinner, bring your clothes for tomorrow.”

He blew out an irritated breath. “See you later, then.”

Alistair felt a strange and cold sensation fill him as he hung up the phone. He was sure Sophia wasn’t behaving normally. Fuck, Alistair Connor. You have just began this relationship. Don’t rush things. You know what happens when you lose your mind over a woman.

He didn’t know why he was trying to fool himself. He was already head over heels with Sophia.

Kensington, Palace Gardens Terrace.

Alistair MacCraig’s Apartment.

7.44 p.m.

Alistair opened his apartment door and entered it with a heavy heart. He wanted to hear Sophia’s greeting and Gabriela’s laugh as he walked into the living room. He wanted them to live with him. He didn’t want to come back from work to a place devoid of warmth and love.

He was seeing his home with new eyes. It felt so cold and empty after Sophia’s cozy and colorful house. Where are the flowers? Where are the books forgotten on the floor for Sophia to pick up, flaunting that delicious butt in the air? Where’s the laughter?

He pushed his bedroom door and his eyes searched for Nathalie’s plush pink elephant seated on the shelf beside her photo. Sophia would have been a great stepmother, Nathalie. You would have liked her.

He took a warm shower and dressed in loose gray jeans and a red and charcoal striped sweater.

Alistair stopped in the middle of his dressing room, studying his reflection in the full length mirror for a moment, then abruptly walked out.

In his kitchen, he grabbed a large rubbish bag and walked back resolutely, opening the door on the left of his dressing room door. He looked at his collection for a second and then started shoving most of it into the bag, knotting it closed. He opened his apartment door and walked down the corridor opening the garbage room and threw the plastic bag inside. He closed it with finality.

He returned to his apartment, washed his hands as relief flooded his heart. He looked at his watch. He had plenty of time.

He poured himself a shot of whisky and settled in his armchair with the wireless phone in his hand, dialing his father’s mobile number.

“Father? How are you? Can you spare me a few minutes?” He paused as he listened to his father’s greeting.

Alistair talked about banalities while he put his thoughts in order. Then, he gently probed his father for his impressions on Sophia. He exhaled as his father’s voice became lighter and happier as he told Alistair that he was enchanted with his girlfriend.

Alistair closed his eyes for a brief moment and hoped he was doing the right thing. He interrupted his father’s praises of Sophia and said, “Father, the thing is... It’s Alice’s birthday in two weeks and I’d like the whole family at Ells Hall. Not a party, really, more of a double celebration.”

He listened as his father asked what else there was to celebrate. “Well, since it’s a long weekend...” He cleared his throat, but his voice came out hoarse anyway, when he explained, “I’m going to propose to Sophia.”

Atwood House.

9.57 p.m.

“May I offer you anything to drink, Mr. MacCraig?” Lucy, Sophia’s housekeeper, asked as she ushered him into the formal living room.

“No, thanks, Lucy, I’m fine.” Alistair entered the room and walked toward one of superb paintings hanging on the wall to distract himself from his rapidly beating heart.

“Mrs. Leibowitz will be down in a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” he said again, nodding in confirmation, without taking his eyes of the red and pink Rothko.

He looked around and his eyes stopped on the piano. He could still hear his mother playing. He walked up to it and sat down on the bench. Running his hands over the keyboard, a sad smile curved his lips and he lost himself playing Schubert’s Ave Maria as he remembered his mother’s lessons.

He was so caught up in the piece that he didn’t hear Sophia open the door. He didn’t see as her eyes teared and the effort it took for her to compose herself before walking up to him.

When he did look up at her face, the smile she gave him held so much love that he kept playing without saying a word. He scooted on the bench, making room for her.

The last notes sounded in the room and Sophia shifted on the bench to enlace his waist with her arms and put her head on his muscular back, murmuring, “So beautiful, Alistair Connor, it makes me want to cry.”

While he played, he forgot about all his worries and doubts about Sophia’s distancing herself from him. He pulled her onto his lap, cradling her head in the hollow of his neck and hugged her.

His voice was heavy with emotion when he spoke in her hair. “I don’t ever want to make you cry. I want to make you the happiest woman in the world.”

He was acutely aware of her breath on his neck, of her silky hair brushing his arm and of her supple body ensconced on his chest.

They stayed there in quiet communion until he dipped her a little and looked into her eyes, asking, “Are you sure about what you told me on Sunday?”

“We talked about so many- Ah.” She combed back the locks that had fallen over his left eye. “Yes, I’m sure, Alistair Connor. Once my word is given, I don’t go back on it.”

He hauled her back onto his chest and squeezed her fiercely. Lowering his guard, he whispered in her ear, “I thought you had changed your mind.”

She sighed and her eyes searched his. “Do you want to know what I thought during these days and nights we didn’t meet? The whole truth?”

I knew it. He steeled himself for the blow. “Always.”

“You have been poisoned. The poison is still inside you. You must look for the antidote.”

He was puzzled by how Sophia’s mind worked. He was waiting for her to say that yes, she had avoided him; that yes, she wanted kids and that he wasn’t good enough for her. “You, Sophia, you are the antidote.”

“You’ve been hurt too deep, Alistair Connor. And you need to rebuild your inner strength and your faith in yourself. You need to work out these feelings of hate and guilt.” She shook her head lightly and he halted her movement by gripping her chin, but Sophia wouldn’t be stopped. She transferred his hand to her cheek and leaning on it, she kissed his wrist, before saying, “Will you consider therapy?”

She is serious. “For you, I-”

“No. Not for me. For you. Do it for you, Alistair Connor. Please?”

He blinked as she made another crack in his already broken defense walls. The question hung in the room as they looked in each other’s eyes.

Alistair capitulated first, he dared not contradict such a simple request from the love of his life. “Very well. Tomorrow morning I’ll ask Tavish Uilleam for a referral.”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Sophia hastily stood up and fixed her wrap dress, “Come in.”

“Mrs. Leibowitz, dinner is served.” Lucy informed as she pushed the door.

“Thanks, Lucy.” Sophia stretched her hand and took his. “Come. I’ve ordered a typical Brazilian dish for us.”

“Feijoada with caipirinha?” he asked, licking his lips.

“At this late hour?” she laughed. “Absolutely not.”

“Churrasco, then?”

“No, Alistair Connor. A moqueca bahiana. A very tasty stew made with fish, shrimp, lobsters and crab cooked in a traditional clay pot with coconut milk and palm oil. But I don’t usually put the palm oil when I serve it to foreigners.” She sneered at him, “It’s a bit strong for delicate stomachs.”

“Delicate!”

She shrieked happily when he bent down and lifted her onto his shoulder. “I’m a Highlander, woman. I’m going to ask the chef at Craigdale to prepare Haggis and black pudding for you next time.”

“You silly Highlander. Offal is a traditional dish in Brazil’s Northeast.”

He put her back on her feet in the dining room and inhaled the spicy aroma that wafted from the bubbling stew. “Hmm. This smells good.” He pulled her chair for her and bowed, “My lady.” That’s exactly what you will be, Sophia. My lady.

11.33 p.m.

She threw her head back and laughed. “I don’t believe it, Alistair Connor. You did what?”

He smiled. “Well, he was spying. Tavish Uilleam was at that age where his hormones were getting the best of him. So I tied him to the post in the farthest bay and closed the stable door. I forgot to untie him after I finished... Err...”

“Your tumble.” She laughed, imagining a teenage Tavish tied up and locked up with a horse.

“Aye. Then I walked the girl back to her house. She lived in the village near Craigdale. I headed home and took a shower. It was around one o’clock in the morning when I woke up with my father shaking me by the shoulders and my mother screaming my ears off.” He laughed, “They’d found Tavish Uilleam sleeping, freezing his ass off in his pajamas, all tied up with ropes. I thought my mother was going to kill me that day.”

She was laughing so hard that she was hugging her stomach. “You were not right in the head.”

He shook his head, smiling, “I would have done the same to Alice if she sneaked a peek too.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.” He shrugged and planted a kiss on her lips. “But she knew better than to go to the stables late at night. Girls don’t misbehave like boys.”

“It depends.”

He shook his head firmly, “Nae, girls are much more obedient, less bold.”

Oh, yeah? I’m going to show you more obedient and less bold, Alistair Connor. Sophia lifted her glass, drank it dry and put it on the side table. “Do you know what I want?”

“No.”

She crawled on the sofa until she was straddling him and said bluntly, “I want to fuck you.”

“I thought it was the other way around,” he laughed.

“Hm?” She started unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off as she wiggled her hips, rubbing herself on his waking arousal. “I want your cock in my pussy.”

“WHAT?” He roared with laughter. “You’re tipsy. You don’t talk so dirty.”

“It’s the company,” she teased. She licked her way down, from his collarbone to his nipple, while she opened his jeans and stroked his semi-hard penis through his underwear. “Well, has your cock ever been deep in a tipsy pussy before?” she provoked him with a devilish smile.

His blood boiled with lust. “I would never refuse a beautiful lady with such a request.” He took over the situation as his hand pulled her against him and he licked her lips. A low growl built in his chest as she responded with gradually bolder parries of her tongue without really engaging in a kiss until she sucked his lower lip and nipped it gently with her teeth. He groaned deeper and pulled away slowly. He drank in the sight of her face softly flushed with desire and her mouth gleaming wet.

“Up,” he lifted her from his lap and sat her on the sofa, stood and walked to the door, locking it. Back to the sofa, he shoved down his jeans and underwear and, fully naked, he sat, commanding, “Strip for me.”

Sophia felt empowered. Her hands toyed with the ties of her dress before she unlaced the belt and whirled it around herself. The wrap dress opened to one side and she watched as his half-arousal stirred and hardened with lust.

Alistair flexed his hands, willing his arms to stay at his sides, as the sparks between them grew.

Sophia couldn’t help her wicked smile as she danced slowly, playing with the dress, baring just one of her breasts. Her lacy bra didn’t hide a thing. She opened the other side of the dress and, turning her back to him, shrugged it off, letting it fall slowly to the floor.

She looked boldly at Alistair over her shoulder.

Wearing only a bra and panties she worked her hips in agonizingly slow circles, as she moved her hands along her body.

His chest heaved in pants. He propped his elbows on his knees and watched as she swayed her hips to one side and then to the other, the smooth skin of her buttocks driving him mad. His fingers itched to touch her, but he controlled himself.

Sophia danced with her back to him as she lowered first one and then the other bra strap and disengaged it from behind. She began to caress herself, her hands wandering leisurely over her buttocks, hips and waist. She turned and he sucked in his breath as she cupped her breasts and her thumbs toyed with the stiff nipples.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

Her breasts swayed softly as she bent and kissed his lips, while her hand toyed with her thong. Her fingers dipped down in her thong, she closed her eyes and moaned.

That did it for him.

“Enough.” He picked her up by the waist and pressed her back on the sofa. Divesting her from her flimsy thong, he settled on the floor between her thighs and used the skills he knew she liked most, just small tantalizing touches of his tongue and fingers, to bring her to the edge of her orgasm.

When she gasped and shivered on the brink of a climax, he sat at the sofa again and lowered her slowly on his arousal, watching her as she threw her head back in pleasure.

“Yes!” She gripped his biceps hard as he lapped at her hard nipples.

“You feel so good.” When he was fully settled within her, he sucked a breast in his mouth, suckling.

Sophia thrust her hands in his hair, keeping his mouth firmly in place as she moved in circles on his lap. Soft gasps and moans of pleasure escaped her throat.

While she enjoyed his attention to her breasts, he slid on a finger between the crease of her ass, probing softly with a feathery touch and testing her reaction. She tightened and then to his surprise, writhed down on it, whispering in his ear, “Do it.”

“Relax,” he ordered and plunged his finger slowly into her. He watched her face as he withdrew and pushed two fingers this time.

Sophia’s mouth opened in a silent gasp and she pulled him by the hair to her breast.

He thrust his hips up in time with his fingers. She moaned loudly and he took her mouth in a hungry kiss and she tasted herself on his tongue. That excited her wildly. And she started to ride him with fierce movements.

“Please,” she gasped on his lips as he pushed his fingers further into her.

“Come for me.” Mere seconds under his expert ministrations and she was climaxing, her head thrown back, her hands clenched in his hair. He slammed hard into her once more and came, pouring himself in her.

He pulled the blanket draped over the sofa arm and covered her back. He squeezed her gently, his hands stroking her back as she drifted down from her physical high.

For the past three days, Alistair thought he had lost Sophia. Her breath fanning his neck soothed his fears. “I love you, you know?” he whispered in her hair.

“Mmm,” she purred.

One day, Sophia. One day soon, you will say the same to me.

Within moments of lying in bed with Sophia curled over his body, Alistair’s breathing evened and he was sleeping peacefully. However, Sophia could not sleep.

She was astonished at the intensity of his feelings for her and, worse, of her feelings for him.

She raised from the bed, put on her wrap and walked to her bathroom, looking at her reflection in the mirror. It was the certainty of her own feelings that caused her so much inner turmoil. She picked up her hairbrush and brushed her long hair, the repeated movements giving her mind room to analyze the last few days.

As always happened late at night, eleven faces appeared to haunt her.

Brazil, Rio de Janeiro, Ipanema, Avenida Vieira Souto.

Leibowitz’s Penthouse, on the veranda.

Wednesday, June 4th, 2008.

2.11 p.m.

“Doutora Sophia?”

Sophia slowly pulled her eyes away from the rolling waves as her driver’s soft voice reached her from far away. “Sim, Gilberto?”

All the mirrors and photographs in the huge penthouse were covered with white sheets as is the Jewish mourning tradition.

Sophia, however, was enclosed in her own black shroud, sitting on a reclining chair under the shade of an enormous parasol. The sling that held her left arm was also black. The only jewelry she allowed herself were a slim white gold necklace with Gabriel’s wedding ring hanging from her neck.

Gilberto eyed Sophia’s face, thin and haggard as he had never seen before. Sophia’s normally clear and happy eyes were dark and dulled. Her face was so pale and her skin so translucent that she rivaled a ghost. Her hair was simply braided, hanging down her back. Her normally beautiful nails were unpolished.

She didn’t sleep, unless under the effect of drugs; she didn’t eat unless Claudia, her former nanny, begged and practically cried; she didn’t talk, but when strictly necessary. And Gilberto would bet all his money that yesterday, when she was told that her husband was dead, she would have killed herself if not for Gabriela.

“Doutora Sophia, one of my brothers still lives in Rocinha. You know that, don’t you?” Every night, Gilberto said a prayer thanking his bosses for the nice little house they had bought for him in Botafogo. His family was much safer out of the slum, and he could work without having to worry about them so much.

She blinked and shook her head slowly. “Still?” Sophia cringed inside at the sound of her hoarse voice. “Tell him to look for somewhere to live. I don’t want anyone from your family still living there, Gilberto.”

“I will.” The black man smiled sadly when he heard proof of the horrible nightmares that assaulted Sophia every night. Everyone in the household knew about them, Sophia’s screams were so loud. “Yesterday, twelve men crossed the woods over the top of the hill from Vidigal. They camped near Rocinha’s border. One of the policemen, who busted the house where Doutor Gabriel was, lives in Rocinha, too. And he recognized them this morning. My brother phoned me as soon as he heard the rumors.”

Sophia blinked again, not understanding what Gilberto meant. Encouraging him to continue, she whispered, “And?”

Gilberto dropped onto his haunches and looked into Sophia’s eyes. With an ominous voice he said, “Doutora Sophia, it’s them. It’s your chance to avenge Doutor Gabriel’s death. You know the police is not going up there.”

Gabriel. Sophia’s lips curled down and she blinked quickly to whisk away the tears. She knew nothing could bring him back. She swallowed hard and struggled with her decision, but an idea had already taken over her whole mind and dominated her.

Sophia looked in Gilberto’s eyes and sustained his gaze. “I won’t have their deaths on my hands. That decision belongs to God alone.” She leaned over and she whispered to her driver, “But I’ll pay a hundred thousand dollars for their left ring fingers.” And she reclined back on the chair, as if she had said the most normal thing in the world.

Gilberto stood and nodded, “Consider it done, Doutora Sophia. My brother will speak with the head of the drug cartel and give the order. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Gilberto, please, one more thing.”

“Anything.” If he could decide for her, he would have ordered all the twelve men killed. But that was her decision to make. He shrugged. Sometimes, outsiders didn’t understand the harsh law that governed the underworld of the slums.

Sophia sat erect on the sofa, a fevered light appearing in her eyes. “I want them to know who ordered it. I want them to know what they made Gabriel suffer.” And a dark smile spread on her face. “I want them to fear me for the rest of their lives.”

Chapter 12

Atwood House.

Thursday, March 25th, 2010.

12.54 a.m.

Sophia’s hand stopped in midair, as she became suddenly aware that Alistair was leaning on her bathroom doorjamb watching her. She looked at his face in the mirror. Could you handle my confession?

“Can’t sleep?” he asked as he stepped into the bathroom. What put this anguished look on your face, Sophia? She nodded tight-lipped, and he stretched his hands, pulling her in his arms, He put his hands on her shoulders and kneaded them. They felt like rocks under his fingers. “Come to bed. I’ll give you a relaxing massage.”

Walking back to the bedroom, Alistair frowned at Sophia’s lowered face hidden behind the curtain of her hair.

As he let go of her hand, the worry he’d been feeling since Sunday evening returned to eat at him again. Sophia felt like a scared rabbit that ran from him as soon as he got close.

“Sophia. Talk to me.”

I can’t... With a strangled sob, she flung herself onto his chest, burrowing her face in the hollow of his neck. An uncontrollable trembling shook her as tears fell down her cheeks and soaked his skin.

Alistair frowned in concern. He laid back down and held her while she cried, soothing her with murmured words in Gaelic.

But she had opened the gates of a dam.

He was becoming seriously worried. She was ice cold and trembling. “What happened, Sophia? Why are you crying?”

She just shook her head and cried harder. I love you. But I’m not the woman you think I am.

He gently rubbed her back and waited for the storm to pass. The suddenness of the outburst was no less startling than the fact that it had never happened before. As the sobs began to subside, she relaxed against him.

“It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

She burrowed her face on his neck like a child and used the sheet to wipe away the tears from his chest and her face.

Alistair had touched her body and soul liked no one had done before and to whom, quite unexpectedly, she had given her heart.

At last, a final shuddering sigh escaped her, and her breathing quietened. With thoughts of her dark past and her uncertain future crowding her, Sophia drifted off to sleep in Alistair’s arms.

Lying awake in the darkness of her room, he tried to piece together her behavior. He knew that she was holding something back from him. But Alistair wasn’t sure if he was prepared to know what it was. If he wanted to discover that his dark-haired angel was not so pure.

Disturbed by his many doubts, it was a long time before he drifted off to sleep.

The City of London Bank Headquarters.

Thursday, March 25th, 2010.

11.23 a.m.

A knock on his opened door called Alistair’s attention away from the floor plans he was studying. As Tavish walked into the room, he motioned for him to approach his computer, “Come and see. Rae sent me his ideas for the opening.”

“I went there yesterday, Alistair Connor. The refurbishment is almost finished. I have the guest list ready and I just received the invitation samples.” He opened his MacBook Air and showed his brother some images of the gallery. “I wouldn’t put that on the show,” he pointed to one of photographs. “Nor this,” he pointed to another and narrowed his eyes at the screen. “In fact, Alistair Connor, I told Maddox and Brent yesterday that we shouldn’t display multiples. Only originals.”

“Hm. You’ve been studying.” I have chosen the right place for you, Tavish Uilleam. Art will help you heal.

“Well, you know art has always been a hobby,” he circled the desk and sat in the armchair. “So, you’ve moved in with Sophia.”

“No. I haven’t.” Alistair looked up from the laptop, stunned. Not yet. “Why do you say that?”

Tavish smiled. “Do you know that since you started screwing-”

“More respect, Tavish Uilleam.” Alistair frowned.

“Very well. Since immaculate Sophia-” He stopped at Alistair’s scowl, chuckling. “Alistair Connor, relax. I’m just joking.”

“I am not. Get to the point.”

“Come on, Brother. Since you two have... Err...” he waved his hand in the air, “you’ve slept in your apartment only twice.”

Alistair’s frown deepened, “That can’t be right.”

“You lost track?” He smiled. “Garrick would never say a word, but I know he’s been taking your clothes over to her house every morning. The least you could do is take them yourself the night before.”

Alistair leaned back on his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Tavish’s smile grew, “So, when are you going to propose?”

“I beg your pardon?” he blinked.

“When are you going to propose?” Tavish repeated. “When is the wedding?”

“Father told you?” he gapped. “I asked him not to.”

Tavish’s mouth dropped open before he banged his hand on the arm of his chair. “I knew it! Even after everything, Alistair Connor, you still are the most helpless romantic alive.”

“Tavish Uilleam. I haven’t talked to her yet. It’s only been a couple of weeks that Sophia and I have... That we’ve been...”

“Fucking,” Tavish provided, too amused to care about the consequences.

Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed, “Aye. That.”

“So? Is she pregnant already?”

Alistair’s face darkened.

“You’re speaking out of turn, Tavish Uilleam.” He looked down at the invitation samples on the screen, trying to control his anger. “Now, which one of these have you decided on?”

Leibowitz Oil Building.

12.57 p.m.

“I don’t believe it!” Sophia huffed and raised from her chair, aggravated. She picked up her bag and put her iPhone in it. She opened her office door, “Sarah, please, inform IT that my computer’s crashed for the third time since yesterday! Please ask Liang to have it fixed during my lunch hour.”

“Mrs. L., it’s not just your computer. The whole company network has crashed,” Sarah informed her.

“This is absurd.” Sophia paused, in front of Sarah’s desk. “This can’t happen. What about the back-up system?”

“It crashed, too.” Sarah said, apologetic.

Sophia shook her head and muttered under her breath, “Gabriel would be so mad... I want Liang here. Now.”

“He’s with Mr. Davidoff, Mrs. L.”

Sophia stopped and slowly turned back to Sarah. “What?”

Liang Kang-Dae was a computer genius. After studying at the United States, having won a full university scholarship, he returned to England and applied for one of the Leibowitz Awards for New Projects. He had won the first place brilliantly and the one-hundred-thousand pound award. He was twenty-six at the time. Gabriel offered him a position at Leibowitz by the end of the award party. After a while, Gabriel relocated the whole IT department from London to the Ireland branch and gave the young man free rein to manage all the company’s IT issues. Gabriel had always said that it was one of the wisest things he had done.

All that came to Sophia’s mind while she walked to Edward’s door. “Good morning, Edward, Liang.” She didn’t wait for their replies. “Can anyone tell me why our über-advanced network has crashed three times since yesterday?”

“Hackers, Mrs.-” Liang’s instantly replied.

Sophia froze as a loud buzz rang in her ears. Her lips opened but only a soft wheeze left her mouth as she dropped unconscious on the floor.

Leibowitz’s Penthouse, Sophia and Gabriel’s home office.

Thursday, June 5th, 2008.

10.28 a.m.

“Mr. Santo, there’s no doubt. That is how they knew Mr. Leibowitz’s and your sister’s schedules. They must have been following them for a long time. They had all the information they needed.” The Brazilian Federal Police expert closed Sophia’s notebook and looked at the two men in front of him, shaking his head, and muttering, “Damn hackers. There’s no privacy anymore.” He put the notebook in a plastic bag, took off his gloves, and stored everything in his briefcase. He turned to a pale and wide-eyed Sophia, sitting rigidly in an armchair. He walked to her and said in a soothing voice, “I have to take your notebook to the lab. There, I will be able to use it to trace the hackers.”

Sophia nodded. My computer. It was my computer that lead the kidnappers to us.

“Have you backed up all the photos and documents from this machine?”

Sophia nodded once more. She knew that if she opened her mouth to answer she would start crying. Again.

“-Mrs. Leibowitz. Please?” The expert had continued talking but she hadn’t heard. Sophia looked to Felipe and Edward for help.

“Yes, we will keep in touch, won’t we, Sis?” She nodded for the nth time that day. “Thank you very much.” Felipe and Edward followed the expert out of the room to the stairs where Edson, her butler, was waiting to see him out.

Meanwhile, Gilberto, her driver, knocked on the opened door. “Doutora Sophia?”

“Do you have news for me?” Her throat was so raw from screaming at night that it was difficult to speak.

From behind his back, Gilberto revealed a small steel box, like an old fashioned medical box. It was sealed with tape. In his other hand, he held an envelope.

Without a word, Sophia rose and motioned for Gilberto to follow her to the terrace.

She squinted in the sunlight, lowered her sunglasses and sought refuge under the parasol. She sat on one of the reclining chairs.

Her sad smile turned into a dark grin as she looked at the steel box, “The fingers?”

“Doutora Sophia, you don’t want to see those.” He shook the box and Sophia heard soft thumps. “My brother guaranteed me it was done as you requested.” He stretched his hand that held the envelope. “The warlord sent you... Err... A gift. A photo.”

Gilberto opened the envelope, pulling out a photo placing it next to Sophia.

Twelve male faces stared back at Sophia. White, mixed and negro men. Tall, average and short. Thin, muscular and fat. Bald, blond and dark-haired.

Crime isn’t picky. She smiled sadly at her weird thought. Twelve completely different men. For her, they had only one thing in common: they had murdered her husband. They had murdered her love, her daughter’s father, her dream, her life.

“You can see that as you ordered,” Gilberto pointed at the photo with the steel box, “each one has lost their ring fingers.”

Sophia heard a shocked gasp and a sharp intake of breath behind her. She turned and faced her brother with an impassive face. “Don’t judge.”

Then she looked at Edward Davidoff, who had come for Gabriel’s funeral.

Sophia tilted her head to the side, studying him, as he stood on the enormous terrace. Under the Carioca sun and the absurd humidity, elegantly dressed in a tailored gray suit and dark-gray tie, Edward was rooted to the ground, openmouthed. His English flair had abandoned him.

Felipe scowled and his mellifluous voice turned hard and cold. “Sophia, you’re a lawyer. They-”

“They tortured and killed my husband!!” she screamed hoarsely, raising from the chair and stalking up to him. “They killed Gabriel!” She pushed Felipe aside and stormed off.

Felipe ogled the driver. “How did she find them?”

“Doutor Felipe, they were hiding near where my brother lives.” Gilberto raised his chin. “I told her. It was her right to order their deaths. We know the police wasn’t going up there to arrest them.”

Edward, who was recovering from the shock, asked even more horrified, “Have they been killed?”

“She didn’t wanted it,” Gilberto answered in his hard learned English. “We avenge our own. It’s the law of the slums.” He faced Felipe and shook his head slowly. “Doutor Gabriel was a great helper of our community. She give her leave when she asked for the fingers.” He shrugged. “She told me she only wanted the fingers, but some things are beyond anyone’s control. All of them, except he,” he pointed to one of the men in the photo, “died yesterday night. In the microwave.”

Edward looked at Felipe, “Microwave?”

“You don’t want to know,” Felipe grimaced, disgusted. “Please, Gilberto, get rid of these.” He motioned to the box in Gilberto’s hand and the photo

“No.”

The command, voiced in a whisper, made the men turn around.

“I want the photo.” Sophia was leaning on the sliding glass door, looking like she would faint at any minute, holding a thick envelope in her hand.

“Eleven men are dead because of you, Sophia,” Felipe thundered, glaring at her. He stepped in her direction and stopped, fisting his hands. “Who do you think you are? God?”

They were not supposed to be killed. A sudden anger burst inside her and, clenching her hands, she faced Felipe. “Do you know what?” she screamed at her brother in her raspy voice. “They tortured Gabriel for ninety-six days and then killed him. They deserved it. They deserved to die.”

Felipe stepped closed to her and, lowering his head, he hissed, “Maybe they did. But you, Sophia, you should know better. You lowered yourself to their level. Now, you’re a criminal, too, exactly like them.”

Sophia paled when the consequences of her decision struck her and her legs gave way.

Edward grabbed her before she fell to the floor and laid her down on the reclining chair. The envelope she was holding fell to the marble floor and stayed there. She breathed, “I didn’t know.”

“You should have!” Felipe roared.

“It got out of control, Felipe.” Edward pointed to the envelope on the floor. “What is that?”

“What I promised,” she whispered. “For the fingers.”

“This is absurd, Sophia. Absurd,” Felipe raked both hands in his hair. “You can’t do this. You committed a crime. A crime.”

She shrunk under her brother’s condemnation. “I didn’t know they were going to be killed, Felipe.” She bit her lip and said, “In the microwave.”

“What the hell is this microwave?” Edward asked Gilberto.

“Well, they’re placed stand up inside a row of tires and...” Gilberto shrugged, almost apologetic, “set on fire.”

“Fucking hell!” Edward had never heard such a barbaric thing.

“I’m sorry,” Sophia breathed.

Felipe couldn’t believe that his dear, level-headed, gentle sister had ordered such a savage thing. He shook his head at her, “Too late now, Sophia.”

Edward decided to take control of the situation. “Sophia, the envelope and the money have your fingerprints. How much do you need?”

“A hundred-thousand dollars.” She looked past him, searching her driver’s eyes, as she said feebly, “Gilberto, I want you to find their families. And tell the women to look for Júlia Soares, my secretary, at the Foundation. They will be taken care of.”

“I will,” Gilberto answered.

“No!” Edward exclaimed. “Sophia, think! You’re going to incriminate yourself.”

“Doutor Edward, there’s anything that can incriminate Doutora Sophia. They invaded our place. It was just another fight between rival drug cartels from two different slums. If it’s ever discovered.”

“Pardon?” Edward was stunned.

“They will simply be missing men. Numbers. In a police report,” Felipe explained, delving a hand in his ink-black hair.

Gilberto shrugged again, nonchalantly. “The microwave, the wind, the rain... There aren’t much left to tell a story.” His white teeth glowed in the sun when he smiled, a stark contrast against his dark skin. A blatant mocking disregard to the horror and seriousness of the situation. “Besides, who will care enough to go searching for criminals up in that hell?”

Leibowitz Oil Building.

Thursday, March 25th, 2010.

1 p.m.

“Mr. Davidoff,” Sarah approached the sofa where Edward had laid Sophia and handed him her cell phone. “It’s been ringing insistently. It’s someone she labeled as ‘Handsome’.”

A small smile appeared on Edward’s worried face. “It’s Mr. MacCraig. Tell him that Sophia can’t answer right now and that you’ll let her know he has called.” Edward drummed his fingers on his knees, impatiently and turned to Martha, the company’s nurse, “Why is she still unconscious?”

“It’s because of her blood pressure. It’s still very low, Mr. Davidoff,” the nurse explained.

“The ambulance will be here shortly. Her doctors will be waiting for her at the Harley Street Clinic,” Sarah said after she answered Sophia’s iPhone.

“Bring her things, Sarah, please,” Edward looked at Martha, a frown between his brows. “I think it’s better to wait for the ambulance downstairs. Too much time has passed since she fainted. I’ll carry her.”

“It’s best not to move her, Mr. Davidoff. Let’s just wait here.”

1.02 p.m.

“NO!” Sophia’s eyes shot open. She saw four worried faces looking down at her: Edward, Liang, Sarah and Martha.

She blinked. As she remembered where she was, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line. Damn!

Liang perched on his haunches beside her. “Are you okay, Mrs. L?”

“Sophia? What are you feeling?” Edward’s eyes showed his concern.

She breathed, “Do me a favor, Liang.”

“Anything, Mrs. L.”

“Please make sure that... LO network and my home computer... are inviolable,” she asked in a wispy voice.

“Don’t worry. It will be done immediately,” he answered and left to comply.

“They are downstairs, Mr. Davidoff. Should they come up?” Sarah asked and Edward nodded.

“Who, Sarah?” Sophia asked, shutting her eyes to stop the dizziness.

Sarah looked to Edward for guidance, who nodded his head.

“I’m here to see Mrs. Leibowitz, please.” Alistair’s deep voice reached her from afar.

Where is he?

“I don’t fucking care. Move,” she heard his firm order.

Edward opened his office door and saw Sophia’s bodyguard and driver blocking Alistair’s path. “Zareb. Steven. It’s okay.”

“What the hell is happening here?” Alistair stormed into Edward’s office. Seeing a very pale Sophia lying down on the sofa covered with a thermal blanket, he rushed to her side.

“Mo chridhe?” He put his warm hand on her white face, looked at Edward, shocked, and covered Sophia with his coat. “She’s freezing. What happened?”

“I’m okay.” Sophia tried to sit but the room swayed around her and the buzz in her ears started again. She fell back even paler and closed her eyes, panting.

“Goddammit, Sophia, stay down,” Edward thundered as Alistair tucked his coat around her.

Sarah opened the door for the doctor and a male nurse, with a folded wheelchair.

“Edward,” Sophia hissed, “what’s going on?”

Without an answer, Edward stepped toward the doctor and shook his hand.

Alistair looked into Sophia’s eyes and ordered, as he rose from his kneeling position, “Stay down.”

“Alistair-”

He put a finger on her lips. “One second.” And walked to where Edward and Martha were explaining what happened to the doctor.

Shutting her eyes, she drew in steadying breaths as they talked in low voices. No matter how hard she tried to maintain her calm and collected persona, she knew it was all a ruse. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide. Hide from the world. Hide from her memories. Enter a shell and never leave. But hers would always be a broken shell, with all her cracks and holes exposed for the world to see. The veneer she had carefully painted to protect and hold herself together was peeling away.

She felt Alistair’s overcoat lift from her body and she missed the warmth. His long fingers closed around hers. “Put my coat on, mo chridhe. Let me help you.”

“No. I’m not going anywhere,” Sophia opened her eyes and glared at Edward. She hated her friend in that moment. He knew she couldn’t handle hospitals.

“Sophia. I’ll have no scruples in asking them to sedate you,” Edward threatened.

No. Sophia blanched.

She would not tolerate medication anymore. The reason she didn’t remember those first few months after Gabriel had been kidnapped were partially due to medication. Her father-in-law had ordered her to be drugged to keep her calm and also pliant. She still didn’t remember how she managed to get out of her stupor, but one thing she was sure of, she would never go through that again. Sophia closed her hands with so much force that her knuckles went white.

Alistair gently squeezed her hand, “Davidoff-”

“MacCraig, I know her better than you do. She’s the most stubborn woman you’ll ever know. She was out for almost three minutes. She’s going to the hospital.” His expression blank, Edward looked at Alistair; the infinite patience he had with Sophia was all gone. He was taking her to the hospital, it didn’t matter to him what Alistair’s opinion was. Or Sophia’s, for what matter.

Alistair was battling to keep a lid on his formidable temper. If he hadn’t known how Sophia felt about Edward, he probably would have said a few things to the blond man. It took a concentrated effort to keep anger and jealousy from his face. Sophia is mine to care for. No one else’s. “You mistake my intentions, Davidoff. I just want a minute with her.”

His stern and even tone had Edward agreeing, “Okay. One minute.”

When everyone left the room, Alistair looked at Sophia with a mix of tenderness, wonder and possessiveness. “Now, you’ve put me in a difficult position. If you don’t go-”

She snorted, trying to hide her fear, “I have put you in a difficult position, Lord Smoothness? You put me in this position.”

He smiled gently at her, “Good. Now, you’ll have to go.” His knuckles caressed her pale face. “I’ll be with you, Sophia. Don’t worry.” He helped her with his coat and lifted her in his arms.

She closed her eyes and whispered, ashamed of her irrational fear. “Promise?”

“Aye.” He kissed her forehead, squeezing her gently, “Hold on, I have to open the door.”

He flung open the door and paused by Edward.

Before either of the men could speak, Sophia said to Edward, “I hate you.”

“Hate me alive, stubborn woman,” he snapped back.

Sophia’s lips curled up in spite of herself, “Domineering CEO.”

Edward relaxed and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, “I’ll drop by later to see how you’re feeling.” He looked at Alistair, “Take care of her and keep me informed, will you?” Edward was sure Sophia was in good hands.

“I will. She is my only priority.” It was the truth, stated more clearly than he’d allowed his own mind to recognize.

Edward blinked, stunned by the fierce statement.

Alistair’s lips twisted and he looked into Sophia’s eyes, still talking to Edward, “This wee lass... She’s a challenging experience.” With a curt nod, he strode to the lifts with Sophia in his arms and Steven and Zareb at his heels, leaving a smiling Edward staring after them.

“Sarah,” Edward said, “cancel all her appointments for the rest of the week and on Monday. Reschedule them to the week after next. Please, also call Liang. We need to discuss new security protocols.”

Chapter 13

Ashford Steel.

01.39 p.m.

“Mr. Ashford?” Scott’s voice coming from the intercom interrupted Ethan’s speech.

“Just a moment, Carter.” Ethan frowned and immediately picked up the phone. Scott knew better than to interrupt a meeting when he had given strict orders not to. “Yes, Scott?”

“I thought you should be informed that Mrs. Leibowitz’s secretary canceled tomorrow’s meeting with the excuse that she had an urgent trip to Ireland. But, sir, I checked with my new informant and it’s not true.”

“Hold on, Scott.” He turned to Ronald Carter, “I need a few minutes with Scott, Carter. If you’ll excuse me.”

Ronald Carter was a young and ambitious lawyer, who had been working in the legal department at Ashford Steel for over six years. He had a quick and ingenious mind and always discovered the best ways to take advantage of the any legal gaps. Each year, he managed to surprise Ethan with a better tributary strategy, making his boss consider him a key player in Ashford Steel’s development.

Last year, after another promotion, Ethan had convinced Carter to enroll in a masters course at Cambridge, funded by Ashford Steel. This, of course, served more than one purpose for Ethan.

As Scott entered his office and closed the door, Ethan raised from his desk and walked to the black leather sofa by the window. Scott asked, “Can I make you a coffee, Mr. Ashford?”

Always subservient. Ethan acquiesced, “Yes, thank you, Scott. And Bling, please.”

Scott served coffee in the Imari china and water in a Waterford crystal glass. Each time Scott handled one of Ethan’s elaborately hand-painted china cups or opened one of the Bling H2O bottles, he felt as if he were serving a revered Samurai or a King. In fact, he had always thought of his boss as a great man with no flaws. However, Scott was discovering Ethan Ashford was human too.

Scott held the silver tray firmly. He didn’t even want to think about breaking one of those treasured objects.

To each his own fetish. “Tell me, Scott.”

Marylebone, Devonshire Street.

The Harley Street Clinic Diagnosis Centre.

4.11 p.m.

Alistair was pacing the corridor. He inhaled deeply and the antiseptic smell made him wrinkle his nose.

Since he had come back from his quick lunch, almost two hours ago, no doctor or nurse had appeared to brief him on what was happening. He had never been so unsettled. Not even when Nathalie was born. He almost jumped when his mobile vibrated.

Tavish Uilleam. Finally. “Where are you?”

“Good afternoon to you too, Alistair Connor. How are you?” Tavish mocked.

Alistair scolded, “Do you think I would have called you ten times if it weren’t urgent? Where are you?”

“On my way to the gallery, near Park Crescent.”

“Thank Christ. Tell Garrick to bring you here. Now!”

“Where is here? Alistair Connor, you’re not-”

“I’m alone and driving myself crazy waiting for Sophia’s doctors-”

“Sophia’s doctors?”

Alistair briefly explained what had happened.

“Calm down. I’ll be there in five minutes. I’ll talk to them.”

Tavish could hear Alistair’s sigh of relief before he answered, in a hoarse voice, “Thanks, Brother.

4.37 p.m.

Tavish looked at Alistair, who was leaning on the wall, eyes closed, lips thinned and brows drawn tight. “Don’t worry. These exams usually take a long time, Alistair Connor.”

“I need to see her. I need to touch her. She’s been inside for over three hours.” Alistair inhaled and opened his eyes just as Sophia appeared at the end of the corridor. She was still pale and was flanked by her psychiatrist, a short and plump old man with a soft white beard, and the neurologist, his perfect opposite, a wiry, tall young man, with dark hair and black eyes.

Alistair’s long strides were barely controlled. He was in front of her in a second. He didn’t look at the doctors. He asked no questions. He said nothing.

His arms went around her and his head burrowed in her hair. He simply held her, stroking her hair, her back; his large palms moving slowly, as if to assure himself she was all right.

“Everything is okay,” Sophia whispered and closed her eyes, leaning onto his warm and strong body. His touch was pure comfort. She lay her cheek on his chest, listening to his heart, steady and sure. A shuddering sigh escaped her as some of her tension drained away. She was afraid the doctors would insist on her going back on the medication.

“Alistair Connor.” Tavish’s low voice broke the moment.

Alistair gathered his wits as he inhaled Sophia’s scent. White roses, orange and vanilla. Sophia. All I need, all I want.

He had his poker-faced mask back in place when he looked up at the doctors but he didn’t let go of Sophia. He allowed her room enough to turn around in his arms and pulled her back onto his front.

“Mr. MacCraig, Mrs. Leibowitz is fine, but she needs rest and some days away from work,” explained the neurologist, Dr. Merkel.

“Now,” Sophia tapped her foot on the floor and looked from the neurologist to her psychiatrist, “Doctor Colton, we agreed-”

“Sophia.” Alistair’s stern tone told Sophia she wouldn’t get out of her imposed rest.

She angled her head to look up at him, “But-”

“No but’s.” He shook his head briskly and gazed at the doctors. “She will rest. I’ll see to it.”

“Good.” Dr. Colton, Sophia’s psychiatrist smirked at her and Sophia huffed a breath. “No work, no lectures-”

“No, no, no. I have to-”

Alistair put a finger on her lips, “Leonard will talk with Holbrook for you.”

Her psychiatrist’s smile just grew. “Finally, someone who can order you around. No work, no lectures. I’ll allow some light exercise - And I mean light, Sophia. I’ll talk with Dr. Kent. I want you in therapy every week day until Wednesday. And I’m sending someone to your house, I don’t want you to be alone.”

No. Not again. Sophia’s eyes stung and she lowered her head, blinking to keep away her tears, and whispered, “I don’t need someone to take care of me. I’m not crazy.”

“No one said that.” Dr. Colton curled his fingers under Sophia’s chin gently, raising her face, so he could look into her eyes. “Sophia, Dr. Kent explained it to you. You’re remembering painful things. You have hypotension, so we need to keep an eye on you.”

“That’s the only reason why we want a private nurse by your side,” complemented Dr. Merkel, the neurologist. “We don’t want you hurting yourself if you faint and fall.”

“Is there a specific need for a private nurse or will anyone do?” Tavish asked.

“Anyone who can react quickly and that is strong enough to carry her, if it’s necessary.”

“I’ll stay,” Alistair affirmed.

“There’s no need-” Sophia started to say, but was interrupted by Alistair’s scowl.

“Don’t argue with me. I’m staying with you.”

“But-”

“Sophia.” Alistair’s tone conveyed to Sophia he was set on staying with her, no matter what she said.

She rolled her eyes and exaggeratedly blew out a breath. She smiled when Alistair grunted and Tavish chuckled.

“Great,” said Dr. Colton, “let’s step into my office for a moment so I can explain everything a bit better.”

Atwood House.

9.19 p.m.

Stubborn woman. Davidoff is right. Alistair’s powerful frame, leaning against the wall in the TV room, didn’t betray his conflicting emotions. He appeared as smooth and collected as he was when he walked Edward to the door, after they all finished dinner.

But Tavish knew better. He could even sense the distrust, the anger and a disquieting fear vibrating beneath his brother’s poker face.

“Really, there’s no need-

“Sophia,” Tavish sat beside her on the sofa and peered up at Alistair before putting his hand over Sophia’s. “You agreed to it.”

“But, Tavish, I’ll be in bed in an hour. I have a house full of employees. Maria is going to sleep in Gabriela’s room. There’s no need for your brother to play the nurse.” She turned to look at Alistair’s green eyes. They were hooded and she couldn’t discern what he was thinking. She gazed back into Tavish’s eyes and again marveled at the difference between the two brothers. She could clearly see what Tavish was thinking. “I know you’re both worried but I-I-” She sighed and bit her lip for a second, looking down at her hands. Her face was pale when she said in a low voice, “I might have nightmares. I don’t want Alistair to be disturbed-”

“Enough!” Alistair was seething. He pushed from the wall and walked to Sophia and scowled down at her. “Enough of this bullshit, Sophia. I thought our relationship was much more than this. So I can sleep with you when you-” He interrupted himself before he said something he would regret. His hands clenched by his sides. “It’s my place to be with you. At all times. And no one is taking that away from me. Not even you.”

“But-” Tavish’s discreet head signal made her stop. She bit her lip again and bowed her head. After a moment, as Alistair didn’t say anything, she tilted her head back to search his face. Poker-faced. As usual. She put her hand over his fisted one and his fingers opened to grip hers. He sat next to her on the sofa.

“Sophia, I won’t sleep if I go home and leave you here by yourself.” He plunged his free hand in his long ink-black hair, the only sign of his nervousness. “Do you want me to talk Tavish Uilleam’s ears off all night long waiting for the sun to rise to come running to your door?”

Tavish grunted and Sophia’s lips twisted ruefully, as she whispered to him, “Poor Tavish Uilleam. You’ll be awake all night.”

She can’t wait to see me out of the door. So much for wanting a steady relationship. His fingers tightened around hers and his ink-black brows furrowed.

Sophia looked at him, his face said he would not accept leaving her side. “Are you sure you won’t be disturbed?”

Really? Alistair huffed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“So, if you two are set, I’m going home,” Tavish got up and shoved his hands in his trousers pockets.

Alistair stood and frowned down at Sophia as she started to stand too. “You stay put. I’ll see Tavish Uilleam out and come right back. Don’t you dare move from here.”

“I’m not an invalid, Alistair Connor,” she frowned back but relaxed against the sofa.

Tavish smiled and bent to kiss her cheek. “Have a good night, Sophia.”

“Thanks, Tavish Uilleam,” she kissed him back. “For everything.”

He smiled and left the TV room with Alistair.

Sophia heard as he said, “Promise to call me if she feels anything.” She smiled when Alistair replied, “You don’t even have to ask.”

10.29 p.m.

Sophia watched as Alistair pulled on a black cotton T-shirt and then tied the drawstrings of a pair of black silk pajama shorts. “I like men in silk pajamas.”

He turned to look at her framed by the dressing room doorway, appraising the purple silk and lace nightie and matching wrap she had donned. He raised an eyebrow. “Lass, you better like just me in silk pajamas.”

She turned to the bedroom and smiled at him over her shoulder, not deigning to answer.

Sophia, Sophia. He shook his head at her back and then scowled at himself at the futility of that. She isn’t even seeing. And she doesn’t give a damn.

It baffled him how he let her get away with her taunts and whims so easily. He didn’t usually take well to that kind of behavior.

They’d settled in bed companionably, each one with a book. However, Alistair gazed at his, unseeing. His mind was full of the beautiful woman beside him and her independence and stubbornness. Quite how he had come to love the one woman out of all the hundreds who was impervious to intimidation, he did not know.

Maybe it’s fate. His only option was to hope fate would also provide him with the means to deal with her - and with his issues - without damaging the unconfessed love he could see in her eyes. And also their growing trust in each other. What they were building together was unique, at least in his experience. He remembered her words, ‘Quantity doesn’t mean quality’. And he knew she had made a point with those words. He’d had many women, but not one true relationship to brag about. On the other hand, she’d had very few men and all her relationships had been important to her.

He couldn’t define what he was feeling, or even describe it. Love was too mundane a word to portray his feelings. He only knew it was precious, too valuable to risk. He frowned at the book and put it down, his eyes searching her face, “Sophia?”

She just lifted a finger asking for one minute after which she looked up from her Kindle. “Yes?”

“What happened today?”

Sophia turned off her Kindle, closed its Jimmy Choo cover and put it on her bedside table.

She was stalling. She knew it.

However, she had no idea what she was going to say to Alistair.

“My blood pressure dropped. When I fainted, I banged my head on the floor.” Hmm. Let’s see if he falls for that.

Why are you hiding, Sophia? “That, I know. Dr. Colton said something about remembering painful things. What did you remember to make you react like that?”

Sophia leaned on the pillows and closed her eyes, sighing softly.

“Sophia?” He sat and turned, facing her.

“When Gabriel was kidnapped, I...” Her head started to pound. She couldn’t tell him. She was deeply ashamed of her warped request to Gilberto. She was a criminal; repented, but a criminal nonetheless.

Their fingers. How could I ask for such a barbaric thing? “I’m sorry, Alistair Connor. I- I can’t talk about this.”

How many fucking secrets are you going to keep from me, Sophia? His countenance darkened. “I don’t tolerate lies, Sophia.”

“I’m not lying,” she said softly. I am just omitting. It’s not the same.

Fuck! “The hell you aren’t!” He inhaled, struggling to keep his temper under control. Trust her, Alistair Connor, so she can trust you and talk about her secrets. Gently, he brushed her hair behind her ear. “You’re shutting me out. Don’t push me away, Sophia, please.”

“Alistair, they aren’t lies. There’s only so much I can talk about right now. Please understand. I need-”

“I need you to be truthful,” he snapped and regretted it immediately. “I don’t want a half-Sophia. I need you all. What is it going to take to make you trust me?”

“I do trust you,” she sighed and sat on the bed. “Believe me, I do.”

“So, what are you hiding? These secrets of yours are getting to be too much. I’ve told you about Heather, about Nathalie and you- I’ve never opened myself to someone like I have with you.”

“You think I’m not open?”

“I don’t think. I know you’re not. You could make an effort for me.” He looked up at the green and blue canopy of her four poster bed. She didn’t need him pushing her at that moment. His arms went around her, pulling her onto his lap, cradling her. His knuckles caressed her face, “For us, Sophia.”

With a low moan, she rested her cheek on his chest. “I’m tired, Alistair. Give me some time, please. It’s all I ask.”

He shifted, cupping the back of her neck gently and pressing his lips to her forehead. “I’m not a very patient man, Sophia, and I hate to be in the dark.”

Sophia inhaled, absorbing the scent of his skin. Sublimely Alistair. “Let me work this mess out, please. Can you be just a little more patient?”

You’re going to keep me in the dark, aren’t you, Sophia? He groaned and his arms squeezed her. “Aye, I can. A bit more.”

“Thank you.” Sophia wondered if she would ever be as he wanted her to be, an open map for him to explore. She knew that it would take a great deal of courage to be truthful, trustful, and completely honest with him. But what bothered her most was that she didn’t know how much it would cost her to expose herself to him.

What will I lose? My sanity? My freedom? Your love? With her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest, she closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed for a chance to repair the cracks in her soul.

She hoped wishes could come true, that the past could be erased.

She wished she could rewind time, back to the day before Gabriel was kidnapped.

If Gabriel weren’t killed, I wouldn’t have met Alistair Connor.

The thought struck her with so much force that it left her reeling. She wriggled out of his embrace and jumped from the bed. Struggling with her wrap, she walked to the TV room, without looking back when Alistair called her name.

No, Sophia. Don’t even think that. Sophia sat on the sofa heavily and picked up the digital photo album that was on the side table. She turned it on and started going through the photos. Gabriel and her on their wedding day. Their honeymoon. The two of them and Gabriela.

Alistair wandered in the TV room and halted as he noticed she was looking at photos of Gabriel and her. He leaned on the wall, allowing her some space.

She paused at the next photo, where Alistair’s and Gabriela’s smiling faces looked back at her. Two fat tears dropped on the screen.

I don’t know what I should wish anymore.

She felt as if her heart was being ripped out of her chest again. She put her hands on her face and sobbed.

Alistair pushed from his position on the wall where he was watching her and sat on the sofa, pulling her onto his lap. “Shhh, it’s okay.” You’re so stupid, Alistair Connor. How could you pressure her like this? When she is feeling so fragile? “Don’t cry, please. I’ll wait for as long as you want. Hush, sweetheart, please.” He squeezed her in his arms, “I love you so much, Sophia, I can’t stand you being unhappy.”

That only made Sophia cry harder. If Gabriel were alive, I wouldn’t have met Alistair Connor. But how can I even wish for a split second that he weren’t alive?

“Please, mo gràdh. Don’t cry,” he whispered on her hair, rocking her in his arms. Alistair tightened his arms around her, soothing and warming her with his big body. “Christ, Sophia. I can’t take it. Tell me what I can do. Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t want to feel this. I don’t,” she whispered, leaning onto him, needing the comfort he offered so readily. She buried her head in the hollow of his neck, hugging him fiercely.

“How are you feeling? Do you want me to call your doctor? Tavish Uilleam?”

His strength anchored her. Sophia sucked in a shuddering breath, shaking her head, “No. It’s okay. I’m okay, I’m just... I’m overwrought.”

As she smelled his male scent, her head spun.

She had to mourn Gabriel. She had to make peace with her sins.

If she wished to move on.

“Sophia,” he murmured on her hair, “I’m sorry I said you were lying to me. But I- I know what secrets can do to a relationship.”

“I’m sorry too.” More than you can imagine. “But I can’t tell you,” she said quietly. “Not now.” Not ever.

Niarchos Angepopoulos’s house.

Saturday, January 28th, 1989.

11.58 a.m.

Ethan was salivating. And he was sure he was drooling too. He could’t keep his eyes away from Eve’s gorgeous body as she wore her tiny bikini, running to the sea. He looked down at his swimming trunks and shook his head at himself. How am I going to explain this... this...

“Ethan! Come!” She waved at him from the sea. “The water is delicious.”

He looked at his grandfather, who was lounging in a reclining chair next to Isis and then looked down pointedly at his crotch.

The old man just smiled and jutted his chin at the sea and said to Isis, “Shall we go inside? I want to show you the new Francis Bacon I bought. It reminded me of you.”

As they walked behind Ethan’s chair, Isis put a hand on his shoulder. “Please, Ethan. Go in with her. I’ll be worried if she’s alone in the water.”

He craned his head back to look at the beautiful woman. He blinked nervously a few times before he answered, “If you wish.”

“Ethan swims marvelously, Isis. You don’t need to worry.” Niarchos put his arms around Isis’s shoulder and winked at Ethan. “We are going up to our rooms to change after I show Isis the painting, but don’t worry about the time, my son. I’ll order a late lunch today.”

“Yes, Grandpa.” Embarrassed at his aroused state, Ethan rose from the chair. When no one commented about the bulge in his swimming trunks, he shrugged and walked to the water.

Ethan loved the private beach in front of his grandfather’s house. The smooth sand under his feet and the sensation of the water around his body were soothing balms for his confused soul. He felt secure there.

Eve splashed him as he approached her. He laughed and dived, resurfacing near her. She giggled at him and swam away, going further out. Ethan watched her, mesmerized by her slim waist and rounded buttocks. He swam after her, but she stopped when the water reached his armpits. She threw her arms around his neck, her puckered nipples rubbing against his chest and her thighs grazed his half-erection, turning it hard in a second. He hissed and her eyes open wide.

“You want me, too,” she whispered.

“Eve, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he said and blushed.

She bit her lip and looked at him through her lashes. Her hand toyed with the ends of his hair, her nails grazing his nape, “Do you want...”

Ethan remembered his grandfather’s words. There is nothing to be ashamed of. He dipped his head and whispered, “Yes, I want you.”

She blinked and a naughty smile spread on her face when she asked, “Can we just play?”

“Play?” His head lowered a bit more. I don’t want to play. I want to kiss you.

She wound her legs around his waist, moving up and down over the bulge of his swimming trunks tormenting him. Just before she kissed him, she breathed, “I want to play.”

1.35 p.m.

Ethan smiled at his image in the mirror and turned to look proudly at the nail marks on his back. Jesus! Sex! Why haven’t I started this before?

He blinked nervously at himself remembering that awful evening at his parent’s house. However, Eve’s beautiful and delicate face superimposed his mother’s. And the blinking stopped, as another happy grin spread on his lips.

This will get even better. Ethan quickly dress himself and walked to Niarchos’s bedroom. He wanted to tell him everything that had happened. He knew that soon, very soon, he would have Eve completely and he was going to make sure he did everything right.

Atwood House.

Friday, March 26th, 2010.

08.27 a.m.

Alistair woke up to soft knocks on Sophia’s bedroom door. He rubbed away the remaining sleep from his eyes and checked on Sophia. She was sleeping peacefully on her side, facing him. He brushed away the hair that had fallen over her face and noticed that her color was back to the normal light tan and her lips were dark red again.

He jumped from the bed and opened the door to stare at Gabriela wearing a Christian Dior pink pleated houndstooth dress and Chanel flats. Her long blonde hair was tied in pigtails with pink ribbons. He shook his head amazed and crouched on his haunches to look into her blue eyes. “Good morning, Fairy. You look beautiful.”

“Good morning.” She kissed and hugged him with her chubby arms. She stepped back, held the hem with her fingers and pivoted in front of him. “Thank you.”

Alistair’s smile widened even more.

She beamed at him and asked, “Where is Mama?”

He put a finger on his lips and whispered, “She is sleeping.”

“Still?” Gabriela blinked. A confused look appeared on her face as she tilted her head to the side studying his wrinkled T-shirt and shorts and his messed up hair. “Did you sleep with her?”

Fuck. “Aye.”

“Are you going to marry her?”

Fuck. Double fuck. It was Alistair’s turn to blink. Sometimes Gabriela made him speechless.

“Can I come in? I promise not to wake her up.”

You’re blocking the entrance to her mother’s bedroom, stupid. Alistair scowled at himself and picked Gabriela up, closing the door behind him.

The little girl looked at her mother and then at Alistair and put her finger on her lips, “Shhh, she is sleeping.”

When he sat on the sofa by the glass doors and put her beside him, she rose on her knees and murmured in his ear, “Can we have breakfast together? On the terrace?”

“We’ll wake her if Aisha and Lucy come through the room,” he whispered.

She shook her head, “No. There’s another door in the TV room.” Her eyes glittered. “Can we?”

“All right, then.”

She smiled, “I’ll ask Aisha- Ah... What do you like for breakfast?”

“Surprise me.”

Gabriela jumped down from the sofa happily and froze as Sophia sighed and shifted on the bed. She bit her lip and looked up at him, sheepishly.

“Go on,” he whispered. “I’ll meet you outside in five minutes.”

She grinned and bobbed her head as she tiptoed silently through the room with lots of ideas churning in her mind.

Chapter 14

09.08 a.m.

Alistair was more than enchanted by the little girl. She had asked for the breakfast to be extra special, so the maids had prepared an array of delicious food served on Sophia’s best china and silverware, arranged over a white embroidered towel and a vase full of yellow and orange daffodils that Gabriela picked from Sophia’s garden.

As they sat down to eat, the little girl told him about Narcissus’s legend. She truly believed that the young Greek man had drowned himself in the small pond in their garden and that was why the daffodils grew there. And when Alistair chuckled at the story, she shook her head at him with lips pursed sternly, her pigtails bouncing around her small face.

“All right, all right. I have to agree with you,” he conceded, as he checked on Sophia through the open glass door. When his gaze returned to Gabriela’s face, he noticed she had stopped eating her scrambled eggs and was eyeing him intently, her teeth digging in her bottom lip.

“What is it, Fairy?”

Her delicate eyebrows lowered when she chastised him, “You didn’t answer my question, you know?”

He composed his face restraining the smile that wanted to curl his lips up. “What question, sweetheart?”

“Are you going to marry Mama?”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Alistair decided to play safe for the moment. “Do you want me to?”

Gabriela’s face glowed as she answered, “Yes.”

Christ. What now? I can’t tell her I want to marry Sophia too. He drank his tea while he tried to put his thoughts and feelings in order. His gaze swung back to Sophia. An idea took form in his mind. “Do you want to go to Craigdale again, Gabriela? Today? We could spend the weekend there.”

“Is Lachlann going to be there? We could look for fairies again.”

“Very well, then. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He rose from the chair and went into the bedroom to grab his cell phone and returned in a moment.

He called Tavish asking if he could go with them. He wouldn’t be in peace if he took Sophia to Ardaneaskan without a doctor or a nurse. When his brother instantly agreed to the trip, he called MacKeenan asking him to inform his crew they would depart from London City Airport to Craigdale Castle at one o’clock.

“Can we invite Ariadne?”

“Anyone you want, sweetheart.”

She squealed and immediately put a hand over her mouth. Alistair chuckled as he called Alice and invited her too.

He finished the call and turned to Gabriela, “All set.” He glanced at his watch. “I think we’d better wake your mother. She has therapy in an hour.”

Before he rose, Gabriela put her small hand over his. Her pretty face was serious when she asked, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“I’m all ears,” he smiled.

“But you can’t tell Mama. Promise?”

“Fairy.” Alistair grimaced and covered her hand with his other one. “I can’t keep secrets from Sophia. And you shouldn’t either. But I will promise you this,” he put two fingers over his heart, “if it’s something Sophia doesn’t need to know, then we can keep it between us. Okay?” He’d learned the hard way that some secrets did more damage than good, but he did want Gabriela to trust him.

Gabriela bent her chin to her chest, avoiding his stare while she thought about Alistair’s counterproposal.

“You can trust me. But Sophia is your mother. She loves you and she’s your best friend-”

“I know. That is why you can’t tell her. It’s going to make Mama sad.”

What? “Hmm. Very well. Tell me your secret.”

She stared at him with her beautiful blue eyes and whispered, “Sometimes... I miss my Daddy. I don’t cry anymore, but I still miss him.”

Alistair swallowed with difficulty. His hand gently squeezed her little one, giving comfort.

“Alistair, if you marry Mama, would you be my father?”

“If you wish,” the words rasped from his throat as a lump formed in it.

“Then can I call you Daddy?”

Daddy! Even now, Alistair could hear Nathalie calling him. The memory was raw and the pain, fresh. It was too much for him to bear stoically. He looked down at their hands, so she wouldn’t see the tears that gathered in his eyes. His chest hurt when he breathed in deep and his voice was loaded with emotion when he said, “I’d be honored to be your father, Gabriela.” He could hardly speak without revealing his strong emotions. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

9.21 a.m.

Gabriela’s kiss awoke a still groggy Sophia. Despite everything that had happened yesterday, she was feeling refreshed. When she stretched out lazily and opened her eyes, Gabriela sprinkled kisses on her cheek.

“Wake up, Mama,” she said impatiently, so excited she was practically bouncing on the bed. “We are going to Craigdale.”

That made Sophia blink and fully wake up. She rubbed her eyes and pushed up, seeing Alistair standing by the edge of the bed, “Hey, good morning. We’re going to Craigdale? Today?”

“Aye,” he sat by her side. “After your therapy session. I’ve spoken with Dr. Colton-”

“You’ve spoken with Dr. Colton,” she repeated dryly, tilting her head to study his face. Sophia didn’t know if she should be irritated with the way he had decided everything without consulting her. She wasn’t used to having someone else make the decision. “When?”

“He called about ten minutes ago. He wanted to know how you spent the night.” He tucked back a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Tavish Uilleam is coming with us, you don’t need to worry.”

Sophia smiled, amused. He orders everyone around.

“And Alistair let me invite Ariadne, Alice, Michael and Leonard,” Gabriela complemented. “Everyone, Mama! Can I choose your clothes?”

Sophia’s smile couldn’t be contained anymore. Gabriela’s happiness was her priority in life and if Alistair made her daughter happy, she would put up with some meddling in her life. Right now, it was the lesser of her problems.

Kensington. Dr. Guilhermina Kent’s Office.

10.14 a.m.

Guilhermina Kent opened the door to her office and smiled, welcoming Sophia in with a kiss on each cheek. She was Columbian and looked thirty, despite being forty-five years old. She had olive skin, very short brownish hair and brown expressive eyes. She didn’t dress conservatively; she didn’t talk pompously; she used just a hint of makeup. She encouraged her patients to call her by her nickname, Mina, and she talked - really talked - during the sessions. And smiled a lot. No stern looks or frowns from Dr. Kent.

Edward was the one who had referred her. Based solely on her appearance and demeanor, Sophia would never have guessed she was a psychiatrist, who graduated from Stanford University, with a doctorate in psychoanalysis from the University of Essex.

“How are you, Sophia?”

“I’ve been better,” Sophia sat in the armchair instead of lying on the couch. She preferred to look at Dr. Kent’s face and the doctor was very comfortable with this arrangement.

Dr. Kent’s trained gaze swept over Sophia’s face. “You look better than yesterday. Much better.”

“I’m trying to convince myself of that as well,” Sophia said wryly.

With her lips twisting ruefully, Dr. Kent sat in her armchair, facing Sophia and crossed her legs.

“You know, Sophia, you are human. You don’t have to punish yourself because you can’t always live up to the high standards you set for yourself.”

High standards? You have no idea. Sophia grimaced, “People expect me to behave according to the high expectations I’ve always set. I have always had a perfect and model behavior. I- Sophia, the lawyer, the teacher, the heiress, even the widow and the mother... We are myths, hiding our dark secrets under fairy tales.”

“We are here to deconstruct these myths you have created for yourself and shed some light on those supposedly dark secrets of yours.”

“People see what they want to see and they will react to me based on who they want me to be.”

Dr. Kent smiled then and put her elbows on her knees. “And who do you want to be, Sophia?” she asked quietly, resting her chin on her enlaced fingers.

I don’t know. Sophia didn’t answer.

“Secrets,” Dr. Kent mused, “they weigh on us. How much are you carrying on your shoulders?”

“A lot,” Sophia breathed.

“You know you need to unburden yourself of your secrets, don’t you?”

“Once secrets are told... their power to wound becomes greater.”

“What hurts more, Sophia? The one time confession of a sin or an unconfessed sin that festers and rots?”

Sophia exhaled a gush of air. “Mina, if one of your patients sat right here in this armchair and told you they had committed a crime - a murder - what would you do? Would you report them to the police?”

Dr. Kent reclined slowly, resting her back on the chair and scanning Sophia’s face. She was very good at reading Sophia’s emotions, because she held nothing back in therapy. But, for the first time, Dr. Kent was puzzled and intrigued by how blank Sophia’s face was, even though her question gave much away. “Sophia, it’s not my position to judge or report a patient. And, without taking circumstances into account, I cannot examine what has led to this supposed act. Tell me, when you take on a new case, do you condemn the person at first sight?”

“Touché,” Sophia smiled. But her smile was gone as quickly as it had come. Sophia took a big envelope from her Hermès bag and handed it to Dr. Kent. “I’ve killed eleven of the men in this photo.”

Dr. Kent had to make an effort to stop her mouth from dropping open. She calmly surveyed the photo, lifted her brown eyes, pinning Sophia with her stare. “You killed these men. Very well. What kind of fantasy is this?”

Sophia looked away from the doctor and broke down sobbing. The words spilled from her mouth as she vomited the whole story. At least, the parts of it she remembered.

“Sophia, sometimes the guilty one is not the person who has committed the crime, but the person who has created the possibility for it to be committed.”

Dr. Kent tried to tell her about how nature’s laws were bendable, breakable even, if done for the right reasons and that not all laws were good. She tried to reason with Sophia that other people were responsible for the dark night itself.

“Many times, criminals think they have committed a crime bigger than the crime itself, because of their own guilt,” reasoned Dr. Kent.

“Are you trying to tell me that I am not guilty?” Sophia asked, drying her eyes and face. “That the men that were killed are responsible for their own deaths?”

“No, Sophia. I’m just saying that what happened was a consequence of their odious act. And that you think you’ve committed a crime worse than you have just because you have been nurturing a guilt bigger than it should be.”

Sophia could relate to the thought that some souls are full of guilt. “So...”

“Sophia, anyone who knows you and this wretched story will tell you that you have repented. I agree with Edward’s words. You are doing everything you can.”

“I was angry. I wanted to harm them. Don’t you understand, Mina? I wanted to make them suffer for everything they did to Gabriel.”

“Feeling angry is a part of us. It’s a natural response to being attacked, insulted, deceived or frustrated. They killed Gabriel. They made him suffer.” When Sophia started to shake her head, Dr. Kent held up her hand. “Let me finish, Sophia. Excessive anger is only a symptom of mental health problems, when it harms you or people around you. This can depend on whether you express your anger, and how you express it. Something happens that makes you angry, you express your anger and then move on. Something very serious happened. You knew the criminals wouldn’t be punished. That made you angry and you expressed it and then moved on.”

“So you are saying that anyone is allowed to take justice into their own hands?”

Dr. Kent shook her head firmly. “No. Never. I’m just saying that what you did is psychologically justifiable. You have to come to terms with it, Sophia or it can have serious negative consequences in the long run.”

Scotland, Highlands, Ardaneaskan, Loch Carron.

Craigdale Castle.

3.08 p.m.

“This is ridiculous.” Sophia stomped her foot on the hall marble floor. “I’m not going to bed in the middle of the afternoon. I want to go riding with the kids. I don’t see why-”

“I said no. No riding. No running.” Alistair frowned at Sophia, crossing his arms over his chest. “Up to the bedroom, Sophia.”

“Stubborn man.” She crossed her arms and frowned up at him, imitating his stance.

“Stubborn woman,” he hissed back.

“Lord Pot meets Lady Kettle.” Lachlann chuckled and grabbed Gabriela and Ariadne by the hand. “Let’s go girls. Michael, come on. Those two will be here all day.” Alistair’s father left the hall toward the stables, with the children beside him.

“Alistair Connor, that’s a bit over the top, don’t you think?” Alice shook her head at Alistair, amazed at his overbearing protection.

Alistair whipped his head to frown at Alice this time. “Medical orders. Don’t interfere.”

Tavish went to Sophia’s aid, “I’m the doctor here. And I say-” He interrupted his sentence, when Alistair stepped in his direction. “Err, I’m going to make a suggestion.”

“Suggest with caution, Tavish Uilleam,” Alistair admonished.

“We could go rowing and then have a picnic by the loch. Sophia could use some fresh air and sunlight. Tomorrow afternoon we could go riding.”

Alistair looked at Sophia and she smiled at him, pleading with her eyes. He couldn’t resist. “Rowing it is then. I’m going to change. Say... In fifteen minutes, by the loch?”

Tavish winked at Sophia and made a face at the back of Alistair’s head. Alice and Sophia walked out of the hall, giggling and whispering conspiratorially.

Leonard, who was silently observing the whole exchange, let out a chortle and slapped Alistair on the back, saying cryptically, “Keep trying, Alistair. Keep trying.”

5.01 p.m.

“I need to talk with my father.” He kissed her quickly on the lips as they arrived from the loch. “I’ll head to the sauna after and you, my lady, are going to bed for an hour, at least, before dinner. I’ll meet you later in our room, all right?”

“All right.” Sophia stood there admiring Alistair’s well shaped butt as he disappeared behind the double doors to the Laird Library.

“Sophia! Sophia!” Sophia turned her head to see Michael bolting across the great hall toward her with the two girls behind him.

“What are you doing, kids?”

“Will you go outside and play with us? Will you, Sophia?” Ariadne begged. “Uncle Tavish Uilleam, Mummy and Daddy are on their way to the Spa.”

Sophia looked around and asked Gabriela, “Where is Maria?”

“She went to get a ball with Flannagan. But I want you to come, Mama. Please?”

Sophia hesitated.

“It’s still light out. We can play in the Elm Courtyard and Maria and Flannagan can come along, too,” Michael suggested. “It’ll be fun.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, laughing as the children jumped and cheered, around her. “Just for a little while then.”

The children’s faces lit up, the girls grabbed her by the hands and Sophia ran along with them.

5.33 p.m.

“What you want is immaterial, Alistair Connor. You shouldn’t rush her into making a life changing decision so quickly. Besides, she has a daughter to consider,” Lachlann muttered, rubbing his nape as he watched his son intently. “It’s too soon.”

“I can’t wait. I’m afraid of losing her. And I can’t lose her. Or Gabriela, for that matter,” Alistair countered, gazing sadly at Nathalie’s photograph on his father’s desk. “I waited too long once before and lost everything.”

With these words ringing in his ears, Lachlann rose from the chair. “So be it. You have my blessing. And, I’m sure, your mother would give hers too.” He walked to a cabinet and opened its door to reveal an enormous safe. He punched in a code, unlocking the safe. He motioned for Alistair to approach. He looked up into his son’s green eyes, “When you got married... Well, my son, Katherine and I were very disappointed in your choice. For many long nights, we talked about what we would give you as a wedding present. We know you were surprised that we didn’t give you your share of the jewels, as well as the properties, like we did with Alice.” He waved his hand at the bottom shelves. “You can have them now. I’m sure Sophia will be steadfast and will bring you the happiness that has been missing in your life. Sophia is everything your mother and I have always hoped you would find.”

Lachlann didn’t notice his lapse but Alistair did. He hugged his father, the absence of his mother pressing on his heart. “Sophia already makes me happy, Father.”

“Good.” Lachlann cleared his throat as he picked up an old little green jewel box from the upper shelf and caressed it reverently. “If I could chose the engagement ring for you... It would be this one.”

As Lachlann opened the box, Alistair saw that it was his mother’s favorite ring. The one she used every day of her life. Alistair closed the box, putting his hand over his father’s. “It will be this one, then.”

“Take the jewels with you on Monday.”

Alistair nodded, “I will. Thank you, Father.”

A loud knock on the door interrupted them. Tavish Uilleam opened the door and complained, “It was supposed to be a five minute talk. Leonard and I are waiting. Come on, Alistair Connor.”

Alistair turned to his father. “We are heading to the Spa. Do you want to join us?”

Lachlann absently stroked the jewel box before putting it back in the safe and locking it. “Good idea.”

Alistair stopped dead in his tracks when he walked by the game room. Its windows overlooked the Elm Courtyard and he was regaled with the view of Sophia playing with the children.

“That bloody stubborn woman,” he muttered.

“What?” Tavish asked in a startled voice.

“I’m going to drag her to the bedroom by the hair.” Ignoring his family, Alistair walked through the game room, fury bubbling up with each stomp.

“Stubborn, impossible, unmanageable woman!” His voice resounded like thunder in the courtyard.

He hadn’t realized that they had stopped their game the moment they heard him. Nor could he notice the four ancient giants elms that stood like sentinels in each corner of the courtyard, while snowdrops, viburnums, wisteria, Scottish bluebells, purple heather and pink rhododendrons exploded in color around the borders of the lawn.

The adults followed him; Lachlann tilting his head heavenward praying for patience, Alice shaking her head, and Leonard and Tavish exchanging amazed grins.

“I beg your pardon?” Sophia asked, with a raised eyebrow, when he stopped in front of her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he barked and Sophia winced. “I told you to go rest. In our chamber. In bed! I gave my word to Dr. Colton I would take care of you. You shouldn’t be on your feet. Much less outside running with the kids.”

“Alistair Connor, that’s more than enough,” Lachlann admonished and Alistair spun to shoot his father a dark look.

“I believe your father just suggested you’re lacking common sense,” Leonard drawled.

“She is the one lacking common sense. Clearly, I gave her too much credit,” Alistair turned back to Sophia, “your disobedience and impulsiveness are going to get you killed.”

“Have you finished?” she asked serenely, raising her elegant brows at him, not the least bit intimidated by his fury.

“Nae,” he hissed. “You aren’t a child any-”

“I’m not, but Gabriela is,” she jutted her chin to where her daughter was watching the argument, her eyes wide.

Fuck. Alistair froze and slowly turned. They were all looking at him: the children, the employees and his family.

Alice, who now stood near the children, grimaced at him.

Clearly he had overreacted. God spare me these stubborn women.

Sophia walked past Alistair, kneeling by the children. “I’ll play with you again tomorrow, all right?”

Gabriela looked up at Alistair who had stopped next to Sophia. “Are you still mad?”

He sighed and dropped to his haunches. “I’m not mad,” Alistair placed both hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently.

“Oh.” Gabriela gaped at him. “So, why did you shout?”

“Because I’m worried. Your mother promised me she would rest.” His gaze traveled from Gabriela’s face to Sophia’s. “How can I take care of her, if she doesn’t obey orders?”

Gabriela angled her head to the side and reasoned, “Then, you have to go sleep with her.”

With that Tavish burst into laughter.

Alistair’s mouth dropped open. He looked to Alice for help, but his sister was too busy trying to maintain a serious face.

“Gabriela,” Lachlann grinned and ruffled her blonde hair, “you’re an astute wee lass.”

“I’ll go upstairs then,” Sophia smiled and kissed Gabriela on the cheek. “See you later, angel.”

When Sophia rose, Alistair didn’t waste a moment. He bent, hauled her onto his shoulder and walked off toward the game room.

Sophia giggled and waved with both hands to the children, blowing kisses.

Alistair heard laughter and taunts behind him, but didn’t look back, walking all the way to the lifts with sure strides in a moody silence.

Sophia didn’t know if she should laugh or if she should frown at him. He had every right to be aggravated with her, but that gave him no right to shout at her.

He put Sophia down only when the lift door closed and scowled down at her, “What were you thinking? How can you be so careless?”

“Alistair Connor,” she smiled, unable to find fault in his concern, despite his overbearing behavior. “Calm down. I feel okay.”

He snorted and dragged her down the long corridor, shoved her inside his bedchamber and slammed the door behind them. “Stubborn, infuriating woman. To the shower. Now!”

Ignoring his order, Sophia stopped in the middle of his room. It was the first time she had set foot in Alistair’s bedchamber at Craigdale. It was completely different from the one at Ells Hall. Huge windows that faced the loch let light flood into the high-ceilinged room. The pine paneling glowed softly on the lower half of the walls, while the upper half was covered with ivory silk and dark-caramel damask. An antique desk and a high backed chair stood in a corner facing two armchairs and a small round table. Set against the furthest wall, a giant ornately carved four posted bed, faced the windows. The decor imparted an airy, uncluttered atmosphere.

He shook his head and sighed as she looked around.

“It’s beautiful.”

“My mother’s work-” Fuck. What am I doing? “Shower, Sophia.”

“You’re funny, you know that?” she said, amazed.

What the fuck? Funny? Half of his anger drained away by the absence of defiance on her face when she turned to him. “And you’re mad. Completely and utterly mad.” He advanced and started to tug her long-sleeved shirt out of her jeans and to undress her as if she were a disobedient child, “You are taking a shower and going to rest. Rest!” He pinned Sophia with the full force of his glare. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” she mocked even more amused than before and raised her arms so he could pull off her shirt. “Are you going to wash my back?”

Alistair’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Women had always been afraid of him when he was displeased. And he liked his dominance. Be it by love or fear. But he didn’t know how to deal with a fearless Sophia.

Sophia smiled, endeared, wrapping her arms around his waist. She kissed his jaw and apologized, “I’m sorry, Handsome, but I couldn’t say no to the children. Besides, it was only a silly ball game.”

“I worry,” he sighed, his anger further deflated by her gentle embrace.

“Let’s shower,” she invited.

Alistair was too busy shaking his head, struggling to reason with his inner self, to notice the mischievous smile that spread on Sophia’s lips.

9.57 p.m.

“I think we should call it an early night,” Alistair said to Sophia as they exited the dining room.

Finally! The shower was sexless and she’d been aroused ever since. She turned to the rest of the family and eagerly waved, “Good night, everyone.”

They exchanged greetings and Alistair directed her to the lifts.

As soon as the doors closed, Sophia nipped him on the jaw with her teeth.

“Stop,” he growled. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“You are going to sleep.” He chuckled at the hunger showing in her eyes. “I don’t want you to exert yourself. Dr. Colton said light exercise.”

“Haven’t you missed me touching you like this?” she asked, in a scorching whisper as she rubbed her hand over his crotch.

Alistair groaned and his hand gripped hers impeding her advance. He tightened his hold. “I can deal with cuddling for a week.”

She huffed and shook her head helplessly. “You try my patience, stubborn Highlander. I know you’re as aroused as I am.” She cupped him over his jeans to prove her point.

“My first priority is you, not my cock.” He pulled her hand away from his erection. “I don’t believe sex fits into the category of light exercise.”

Sophia laughed at this and grabbed her iPhone. “Let’s see.”

“You are going to call your doctor at this time of night?” He gaped at her. “You are too spoiled. Hasn’t anyone ever told you nae?”

“Oh, yeah, they have. That’s why nowadays I don’t accept it so easily,” she smirked at him. “Dr. Colton? Hi, it’s Sophia Leibowitz. Don’t worry, everything’s perfectly-”

“Give me this,” he took the phone from her hand and she rolled her eyes at him. “Dr. Colton, Alistair Connor MacCraig. Sorry to disturb you at this hour, but Sophia is misbehaving.” He frowned at Sophia’s laughter. “Aye. Well, after a full day, flying up here, playing with the kids, rowing- Nae, I did. And-” He paused to listen to something the doctor said while he entered his room and flung himself in the armchair. “Okay, so I have a question. Is sex allowed?”

Sophia tried to discover what Dr. Colton was saying from Alistair’s reaction, but his poker face gave nothing away. She shrugged and entered his dressing room, taking her nightie and wrap from her suitcase. She was about to enter the bathroom when she noticed he was leaning on the doorjamb, hands shoved in his pockets.

“So?” she asked, already guessing the answer.

He looked sheepishly at her and muttered under his breath, “Stubborn woman.”

“Stubborn Highlander!” she retorted as she sashayed to the bathroom, swinging her bordeaux lace nightie by the thin straps on her index finger in blatant defiance.

As Alistair followed her trail, he thought that no sane man, much less himself, could resist the happy and naughty smile that illuminated Sophia’s face.

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

Saturday, March 27th, 2010.

1.05 a.m.

Goddammit. Ethan had checked and rechecked his BlackBerry for Scott’s email. His assistant hadn’t been able to obtain Sophia’s medical report yet, but he had informed Ethan that Alistair MacCraig had taken her to Loch Carron for the weekend.

He was worried.

Ethan emailed Scott giving new orders. He drank his port, remembering their first night together. And another night, from long ago, superimposed it. Eve...

Niarchos Angepopoulos’s House.

Sunday, January 29th, 1989.

9.51 p.m.

Niarchos squeezed Isis’s hand, calling her attention to him.

“Oui, mon chèr?” she purred.

Niarchos smiled at her and raised his hand to his lips, kissing it. “I owe you.”

“Oh-la-la!” She put her hand dramatically over her heart dragging his attention to her full bosom. “This is not something my old heart could endure. Niarchos Angepopoulos owes me.”

“Look at him, Isis. Three days and he is different already.” His sharp eyes noticed how Ethan put his arm on Eve’s waist and boldly pulled her to him. “I was so worried.”

Isis pursed her lips in a charming pout. “He is very handsome, Niarchos. Eve is delighted and she promised she’s going to take good care of him,” she smiled. “I just wish I was younger.” Her finger caressed her nipple and her tongue licked her lips slowly.

A hungry look came over Niarchos’s face. He stood up lithely and commanded, “Come. I’m going to show you that experience is better than youth.”

Isis threw her head back in a laugh and eyed Niarchos’s fit body with unmasked pleasure. “Niarchos, mon chèr, your grandson has much to learn before he can step into your shoes.”

Monday, February 6th, 1989.

12.01 a.m.

A low knock on the door startled Ethan. His hand stopped and gripped his stiff arousal. He cursed softly and redressed quickly, pulling his T-shirt loosely over his tented pajama shorts.

“Yes?” he asked when he was by the door.

No one answered.

He cursed again and turned back to his bed to finish masturbating.

He was going crazy over Eve’s playing. He wanted more. He wanted everything. He had come in his trunks, in her hand, on her belly. But she didn’t allow him to make love to her saying she was still a virgin and she was afraid.

Another knock made him turn again. This time a hesitating one, followed by his name spoken softly.

Ethan heaved as undiluted desire made his erection even harder. Is it possible? Then he remembered it was February six. My birthday. I’m sixteen years old.

He opened the door and his heart leaped in his chest.

Eve was wearing a white see-through nightgown, a matching wrap and minuscule white lace panties. As the soft corridor lights illuminated her from behind, creating tantalizing shadows, Ethan’s imagination went crazy.

“Come in,” he whispered. As she hesitated, he asked, “Please?”

She swayed from one foot to another, biting her lip, and looking at him from her lowered lashes.

“Eve?” Ethan held her hand gently, tugging it.

She lifted her beautiful brown eyes and looked at him shyly. “I don’t know if I should. But... I can’t resist you,” she murmured.

He tugged again, “I won’t do anything that you don’t want.”

Ethan felt powerful when she entered his bedroom and looked from his face to his big bed, biting her lip.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered shyly.

He locked the door, put one hand on her waist and breathed on her lips, “Thank you.”

Blinking, Eve wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body onto his, “Oh, Ethan, you make me feel so good every time we’re together. I want...”

“What, Eve?”

“Can I ask for a gift? Even though it’s your birthday?”

“Yes, of course.”

She stood on her tiptoes and rubbing her breasts on his chest, asked, “Make love to me. Show me what it’s like to be a woman.”

Ethan’s mind flooded with desire and his arms hugged her closer, his hands wandering over her round buttocks, pressing her to his ready body. As he kissed her, he promised himself he would be as gentle and as patient as he could. That he would satisfy her as she had satisfied him. This is my birthday gift. A special gift.

Eve didn’t usually feel pleasure when selling her body to rich men. Nonetheless, even though she knew Ethan Ashford was a virgin, shy and a bit awkward, she would make sure that, in the morning when she left his bedroom, both of them were fully sated and delighted.

That night she would give herself to pleasure.

Chapter 15

Ethan breathed on Eve’s lips, “You are so beautiful.”

She smiled and her slender fingers caressed his nape. “And you are so handsome.”

He remembered his mother’s words. It was one thing she liked to brag about, but only because he looked like her. Of course.

This is my birthday present. Forget Calista and enjoy it. There was a slight hesitation when his hands hovered over her shoulders for a minute and he remembered his grandfather’s firm voice and wise advice. He pushed her wrap off her shoulders.

Aphrodite and Venus. Jezebel and Delilah. And Eve. Goddesses and revered women. Trouble and Temptation. Every last one.

Then her nightgown also fell to the floor, and he forgot all about religion and mythology. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her.

Kiss me. He was afraid to speak and break the magic. He willed her closer, gently pulling her forwards.

Her fingers twisted in his hair, drawing him close. She breathed over his mouth, her tongue sliding over his lips. Just a shallow, teasing pass at first. Then, on the second attempt, she pressed in, slowly, tantalizingly. She sighed into the kiss.

The faint sound blazed through him, kindling his every nerve ending, like a fuse. Her fingers left his hair, and he worried for a moment that she might have regretted starting this. But they wandered down, looking for the hem of his shirt.

“Take it off.”

Passion was an emotion he was quickly learning to identify on her face. Ethan obliged her. His hand was drawn to her full breast and he began to massage, his thumb drawing circles around her taut nipple.

Her palms roamed over his neck to his shoulders and down his chest until they rested over his ribs. Her fingers suddenly dug into his skin firmly and she pushed her breasts onto his chest.

He broke the kiss and looked at her. She was so sexy with her head thrown back in abandon that he couldn’t resist and his head dropped to suck a nipple in his mouth.

“I like that. Don’t stop,” she asked breathlessly.

But he paused, disappointing her. It only lasted a heartbeat because his mouth moved to the other breast.

Eve closed her eyes, stood on her tiptoes and arched her back to give him better access. He was still untrained so she coached, “Suck it harder.”

Ethan was a quick learner and a devoted student. He decided he would learn every trick. He growled when she grabbed his head, her fingers sliding into his hair, clutching him to keep him in place and whispered, “Yes. Now, use your tongue to tease the tip.”

He didn’t need experience to follow her directions. He released one breast to give the other his attention. Ethan was reeling. Sensations overtook everything as pleasure and need filled him. He didn’t even notice that Eve was not behaving like a inexperienced schoolgirl.

Eve moaned and hiked up a leg as he sucked on her breast in strong tugs. A sweet ache radiated to her belly. “Ethan,” she pleaded.

His mouth released her as he lifted his head to look at her. “What do you want? Tell me. I’ll do it.”

The way he spoke did funny things to Eve. His voice was deep and it exposed his need, urging something inside her.

She let go of his head, one hand cupping his face, the other sliding down, into his shorts, curling her fingers over his arousal, stroking him. “You.”

He rumbled a grunt of pleasure and approval and undid the ribbons of her panties, letting them fall to the floor. One of his hands moved to the middle of her thighs, asking for access. He closed his eyes while his fingers probed and teased her opening gently, mimicking what he wanted to do with her.

She moaned and he lifted her in his arms, gathering her close to him, as she let her head fall to his shoulder. He marveled at her innocent face and beautiful body. He couldn’t believe his luck. When he placed her on the bed, she reached for him, bringing him down for a kiss. A hungry kiss this time.

He ungainly took off his pajama shorts and lay down on top of her, careful with his weight.

She pushed him lightly and he rolled away.

His face registered the frustration he was feeling, but as she shifted and kneeled between his thighs, running her hands up and down his legs, he propped on his elbows in awe.

She smiled at him and her tongue flicked on the head of his erection.

“Eve,” he growled, shuddering from that simple, tiny contact. His head fell back with a groan as Eve took him into her mouth.

Ethan was completely lost as Eve sucked him. With a front row seat, he could only watch while she used one small hand to reach between her legs and caress herself as she pleasured him in an erotic rhythm. She moaned and looked at him, telling him that she loved the act as much as he did. Soft sounds of her mouth and tongue and his grunts filled the room. The sight of her on her knees, her lips stretched to accommodate him and her hand caressing herself drove him mad. He felt her tongue stroke him rapidly as her cheeks hollowed to suck him deeper.

I need to come. Right. Now. “Eve!” He wanted to touch her, to caress her breasts and her soft body. He wondered at her taste.

She moved and her silky hair curtained her face as she angled her body over his and carefully lowered herself on him.

She pretended to struggle to take him, clenching her inner muscles, and said, “Oh! You are big.”

This is so good. Hot desire pumped into Ethan’s manhood, making him swell even more and he grabbed her hips and thrust in her. He gasped as he burrowed deeper, “You feel so good, baby.”

Eve closed her eyes tight and let out a faked gasp of pain.

He stopped, unsure. “Did I hurt you?”

She bent down and whispered in his ear, “Just a bit. But it’s okay.”

Damn, Ethan. She’s a virgin. “I’m sorry,” he cupped her face and kissed her lips gently.

“Don’t stop, Ethan,” she pleaded and tentatively moved down more.

Awkwardly, Ethan thrust up as she rocked down.

“Am I doing this right?” she asked shyly.

I don’t have a clue, but it seems so. “Perfect.” Ethan felt her lips searching his, felt her hands gripping his shoulders and her body tightening around him.

They found a more tuned pace and finally set in a fine tempo.

Ethan closed his eyes tight as a starburst took him and exploded, sweeping him in light, washing away every previous fear, replacing it with a pleasure so deep he thought he’d died.

The unexpectedness of Eve’s orgasm only made it more intense, and she shuddered and whispered his name as she came, burying her face on Ethan’s chest.

He settled on the pillows with a satisfied sigh and looked up at the ceiling, caressing her back. He wanted to ask if everything was all right; if he had hurt her too bad, but didn’t know how.

Eve raised her head and smiled at him, “Oh, Ethan. You were so gentle. Thank you.”

“Did you like it?” Ethan asked, his voice full of concern, betraying his nervousness.

She bobbed her head, “It was wonderful. Can we do it again?”

A happy grin spread his lips, “I guess so.”

Ethan slowly pulled away from beneath Eve’s sleeping body. She moaned softly, but didn’t wake up. After the second time they’d made love, they’d talked about nothing and everything, and then made love again. Afterwards, they held each other in silence and she drifted off to sleep.

Ethan walked to his veranda and stretched looking at the sky. The night was beautiful, the stars were bright, reflecting on the Mediterranean Sea. The weather was cooler at that time of the night, but he didn’t care. With every second he passed with Eve, his life seemed to righten. He wished it would never end. He returned to bed and pulled her into his arms.

And then, with his body sated and his mind near sleep, he began to understand that even with the deep scars his parents had left on his soul, he could enjoy life.

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

Saturday, March 27th, 2010.

1.27 a.m.

Ethan shook his head hard. He didn’t want to remember Eve. Even after all these years, the betrayal hurt still. In spite of everything, he knew he also had to be grateful.

His eyes searched for the beautiful Buccellati silver frame. Sophia.

His gaze swung to the woman on the bed. He knew that she had been making an effort to please him by emulating Sophia’s style. In the last few days, she had become even more like the love of his life. He smiled sadly. No one can replace Sophia.

As if Barbara could hear his thoughts, she stirred. A moment later she rolled toward his side and her fingers searched for him. She sat on the bed and looked around.

In the dimness of the room, the motionless figure that stared back at her in stony silence looked lonely and, for the first time, Barbara took pity on that man. He had everything, but love. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replied dryly. “Go back to sleep, Sophia.”

Her mind spun, searching for what Sophia would have said. And decided that action sometimes spoke louder than words. She rose from the bed thanking her acting training.

Barbara never felt very comfortable walking around naked. She hadn’t any problems with her body, but she wasn’t used to it. She mentally shrugged and concentrated on the task at hand. Not that it was a difficult one. Ethan Ashford was a very handsome man.

And very generous too, she was reminded, when the soft light of the side lamp in the sitting room glittered on the diamond tennis bracelet he had given her the day before.

The way Ethan’s eyes devoured her face and then her body sent a giddy thrill down her spine. She stopped in front of him and bent down, speaking daringly close to his lips, as she imagined Sophia would do, “I heard what you said, but I should warn you that I’ve never been good at taking directions.”

Jesus! Every day this woman is more and more like Sophia. Ethan ran his hands over her back up to her nape, gently pulling her head toward his, taking her mouth in a hungry kiss.

When he broke the kiss, he grinned mischievously at her and said, “Then, do your worst.”

Craigdale Castle.

9.29 a.m.

Soft light poured through the gap in the curtains and Sophia felt a large, warm hand caressing her naked back. It was a wondrous way to wake up. She lifted her head and found Alistair staring down at her.

She didn’t speak nor did he. There was a peaceful quiet in the room that they seemed in agreement not to disturb.

Alistair was propped on the pillows, his long hair streaming over his broad shoulders. He looked deliciously savage, but content as well. His hand moved up to her hair and he gently combed it with his fingers, resting his hand on the small of her back where it ended.

Something in the depth of his green gaze fired to life. Something that made her melt inside. She licked her lips unconsciously and his gaze lit up further, until the green of his eyes was a slim ring around the dilated black of his pupils. His breathing roughened.

She didn’t resist the silent invitation as his lips parted. His hand tightened around her waist when she pulled his head down to gently kiss him. It was barely a brush of lips, but one that made his already warming desire boil.

Alistair pushed her onto her back as his tongue lapped her mouth, warm and rough, outlining the curve of her lips and then running along the seam, demanding entrance.

Unable to deny him anything, she kissed him and his moan sent shivers down her spine that turn to a delicious burning as he kissed her back senselessly.

“You’re so responsive. You’re already on fire,” Alistair whispered as his hand trailed down her body. His hand cupped her and she gasped, arching her body in bed.

He kissed his way down, with light kisses as two fingers dipped into her.

Sophia moaned as he softly bit and licked her clitoris. His hands moved to palm her buttocks and he gently kneaded and lifted them open. “You have such an ass, Sophia,” he blew softly and with the tip of his tongue rimmed her tight ring.

“Alistair,” Sophia gasped astonished at the unusual caress.

“Does it feel good?”

She was so surprised she couldn’t form any thoughts. “I- Do it again.”

He chuckled low before he licked her again and this time his tongue probed deeper.

“Ah,” she moaned and her hips jerked in his hands.

His hands lowered her hips back to bed and he ordered, “Turn.”

She opened her eyes; a cautious look on her face.

“Soon, Sophia. But not today.” He smiled wickedly, his green eyes blazing with the idea, “Turn. On your hands and knees.”

He went to his side of the bed and opened a drawer on the bedside table, but stopped before taking out what was inside. “Do you trust me?”

“No pain?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head, “No pain, no violence. Promise.”

“All right,” she breathed. “What is it?”

He smiled naughtily, “A surprise. Just turn around.”

Sophia didn’t hesitate. This was Alistair. She wanted him, her body craved his touch. She turned over and pushed onto her hands and knees. She slowly crawled backward to get closer to him.

A firm hand gently gripped her hip and his knee nudged her legs farther apart and she spread them to give him better access. As soon as he was satisfied with her position, he slid his hands over the curve of her buttocks.

He squeezed and fondled her breasts. “I am going take you like this, Sophia. Like a stallion covering a mare.”

Sophia closed her eyes and braced her palms against the bed in an effort to keep from falling, as her mind conjured all sorts of naughty images. She felt extremely vulnerable and aroused in that position. Her defenses were down. He could take her as he liked, do anything he wanted, and she didn’t want to stop him. Again his hand caressed her backside, caressing and rubbing until she sighed with pleasure.

He released her hip and came down over her until his body lightly rested against her curved back. The bed dipped as he braced his weight with one hand. He just slid one of his hands from her hip to curve under her belly, then lower until his fingertips teased her seam. He growled softly as he located her clitoris, rubbing back and forth until low moans burst from her parted lips. “That’s it. Nice and slow.”

Her eyes closed as she lowered her head and chest to the sheets and abandoned herself to the lust that coursed through her veins. A loud moan left her lips as she rocked on his fingers.

“Easy, now.” He shifted again and Sophia felt a slippery gel and a cold tip probing her anus and then pushing in. She gasped as a shudder ran through her body and tightened up in reflex. She didn’t know if she feared the pain or the pleasure.

“This is about pleasure. Relax,” he urged softly as he touched her clitoris with one talented fingertip and pressed in the anal plug. And turned on its vibrator.

A shattered scream left Sophia’s mouth.

“Good?”

“Oh.” There was no coherent thought in her mind, while so many sensations burned through her lower body. “Oh. Yeah,” she half gasped, half screamed.

“More?” He pressed the plug a little deeper as she moaned loudly and writhed, rubbing her breasts on the bed.

Alistair’s fingers worked on her. One of his hands ran over her back and gently kneaded her butt. “Beautiful,” he rasped.

His finger slid lower, discovering how wet and ready she was to receive him, but he didn’t enter yet. He traced upward again to continue tormenting her. He applied a little more pressure, a little faster, and Sophia gasped and rocked her hips. He pushed the plug even deeper. He leaned on her and said in her ear, “I’m going to fuck you and make you forget your own name. And remember only mine.”

“Fuck me then, Alistair Connor,” she provoked, backing onto him.

He grabbed her hips with firm hands, positioning himself, “Hold on to the bedpost.”

It was all the warning she got, before he hammered into her. She jerked forward with a strangled sound and asked, “Again.”

She felt full to bursting, stretched so tight around him, it was almost painful.

“I’m going to ride you hard, Sophia.” The words came out as a near growl. His voice was hoarse and raspy as he hung on to his control by a mere thread. “Just keep still and take it.”

She had no choice. Her head was bent onto the mattress and her arms were stretched in front of her, her hands gripping the bedpost firmly. Her knees were her only support as he drove into her again and again. Images battered her mind.

How must he look mounted over me? Her mouth went completely dry and she closed her eyes as pleasure coursed through her body.

She loved how hard and big he felt as he sank into her, stretching her walls. She was completely at a loss to describe the overwhelming pleasure that took hold of her body.

Grabbing her tightly, he mercilessly forged on, his fingers digging into her hips, breaching her more, and commanded, “Touch yourself. I want to see it.”

She gasped as her own fingers touched her. It was daring and bold and made her feel powerful and free. She knew she wasn’t going to last long.

“That’s it,” he rasped, even more turned on. He pressed down closer to her back after he was fully inside her. He pinned her under his body as he braced himself on the bed. He placed kisses along her bare shoulder.

She moaned louder, urging him on. Her body quivered from the strong, intense pleasure and the last push to climax, when he withdrew almost totally from her and drove back in with one powerful thrust.

“Alistair Connor!” She cried out as excruciating ecstasy tore through her. Her muscles clamped down strongly on his arousal, as her body shuddered in a forceful release.

But Alistair wouldn’t let it finish like that. His fingers dipped again to caress her oversensitive clitoris. The vibration in her ass, his rough thrusts and his fingers brought Sophia once more to the edge.

“Come for me again,” he grunted, his breathing harsh, as he increased the depth of his strokes, building pleasure taking hold of her again.

The need to come grew from a steady ache to a gnawing necessity.

“Alistair,” she pleaded.

His fingers left her for a split second and she moaned loud when the vibrations in her ass throbbed quicker. He moved inside her again, frantically drawing out the climax until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel. She wondered if it were possible to die from too much pleasure.

“Now, Sophia.” He was too thick, too big, too deep. He plunged, his hips slapping against her buttocks, sending the plug even deeper.

A deep slam of his, in time with a pressured circle of his fingers around her clitoris and the taking out of the plug, was all it took to send Sophia over again, spiraling up in wondrous sensations and then down in powerful release.

Alistair drew torturous breaths as his own climax seemed to never end, Sophia’s body clenching again and again around him, leaving him dry. With a last deep and hard thrust, his world shattered and with a low and husky shout, he fell limply on the bed.

When Sophia opened her eyes again, Alistair was lying down on his side facing her. She smiled and whispered, “Hey.”

“Hey, you.” He scooted to kiss her on the lips and bring her to his chest. Looking down into her eyes, he asked quietly, “Was it good?”

She blushed and his chest trembled with contained mirth.

“I love it when you blush,” he whispered on her lips.

“If things keep going like this, there are two possibilities: I’ll either be blushing permanently or never again. I loved it.” She kissed his chest. “Alistair?”

“Hm?” He lifted her chin so he could see her face better.

“I want to know what your fantasies are.”

“You.” He grinned, his green eyes flashing beautifully.

“I better be.” She scowled and poked his chest with her finger, “But, really.”

“We are already working toward it.” His big hand ran over her back until he grabbed her butt and squeezed it.

“My ass,” she said.

He nodded but, in truth, his most ardent fantasy was to hear her saying the three words he had repeated so often already. I love you.

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

10.35 a.m.

Ethan asked his housekeeper for more coffee and then turned to Scott. “You said you were keen on finding her secrets. So, what do you have to report?”

“Sir, I meant that everyone has things they consider too dark to turn public. She obviously has many. Too many disguises and subterfuges to just be afraid of criminals.”

“Hmm.” Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. And MacCraig?”

Scott produced an envelope from his leather suitcase. “Several love affairs, if you can call them that. A great many more one night-stands. An unusual marriage.”

“Unusual marriage? In what way?”

“His wife and her sister, - if you get my meaning, sir - were known for their weird predilections.”

“A threesome? That isn’t so unusual,” Ethan said. You’d be shocked if you knew what my parents did.

“Oh, believe me, sir, there’s more.” Scott tapped the envelope with his new Montblanc pen. “This Heather, she didn’t try to hide it, although I didn’t find much about her. Before she died, their marriage was already breaking up and they both had multiple partners.”

“So he was unfaithful.”

“Apparently, sir, it was an accepted situation. An open marriage. I couldn’t find out exactly how it worked, but there are some clues in there. And, sir,” Scott’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone, “somehow Ghost managed to hack into his sister-in-law’s computer. She has lots of photos of them during sex. It’s all in there.”

Ethan looked at Scott as if he’d sprouted a second head. Then he chuckled, “That’s good, Scott. Very good. Remind me to deposit a bonus for you on Monday. Have you got everything prepared for today?”

Scott puffed out his chest, a habit Ethan found very amusing. “Of course, sir. Of course.”

“Good, Scott. Very good.” Ethan turned back to his papaya. “Inform Sophia she can have some time off until tomorrow night.”

Scott nodded and left the room thinking that the richer people were, the weirder they behaved.

Craigdale Castle.

11.07 a.m.

Sophia crept silently through the corridors and furtively stepped into the Blue Drawing Room. She went straight to the Steinway grand piano in the corner, the attraction too irresistible for her to deny.

She hadn’t played since Gabriel’s kidnapping, but something stirred inside her when Alistair had played for her the other night.

She closed her mind to the memories of Gabriel and how much he loved her playing. Resolutely, she sat at the stool and opened the fall lock. Her fingers caressed the keys and an uneasiness took hold of her. She forged on and started to play.

The door opened with no sound and Alistair entered the room. Hearing the music, he scanned the room and his brows shot up when he saw her. “You never told me you played, Sophia.”

She jumped away from the piano, almost falling in her haste. She felt as sweat rolled down her back. “Not anymore.”

Huh? “What were you doing just now?” He strode toward her and commanded as he sat on the bench, “Come. I’ll play with you.”

She stared at him almost afraid of saying something.

He smiled reassuringly at her and making room for her on the bench, stretched his hand. “Play with me,” he invited again.

“My nails are too long and I don’t remember any song for four hands.” She stood there, glued to the ground, looking wide-eyed at him.

He played a few notes with his left hand and wriggled his right fingers in her direction. “Play whatever you want, I’ll accompany you. Come, I’m not expecting perfection. It’s just for fun.”

She shook her head, feeling her shirt getting wet under her armpits.

But he wouldn’t accept no for an answer. “Come on, I’m waiting,” he coached gently. Sophia, don’t be shy.

Oh, God. “All right,” she breathed deep, gathering courage, and sat by his side, “modern or classic?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“That good, uh? Listen... It’s been ages since I’ve played with someone. One day we can play together.” Sophia put her cold hand on his warm one and thought for a moment. “A classical opus and a modern piece. They’re small and easy, but I love them.” She took a deep breath and lightly set her fingers on the keys. “Hope you don’t mind the sound of my nails.”

The sounds of Beethoven Moonlight, piano sonata number 14, filled the room. She closed her eyes, concentrated on the song, and her lips moved as if in prayer.

So sad. Alistair’s heart clenched in his chest. He looked at her face and was mesmerized by the many emotions.

She glanced briefly at him. Her eyes were dark brown and on her lips was an apologetic smile. Finishing, she launched into ‘Memories’ by Barbra Streisand and started singing. Her head dropped a bit and her hair fell from her ear, curtaining her face.

Alistair looked at her, entranced, and very slowly so as to not disturb her, he pushed her hair behind her ear. It was then that he noticed that there were tears in her eyes. He placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed.

Sophia kept singing, her fingers moving over the keys and so much emotion in her voice, it astounded Alistair. Towards the end, she dropped her head, her voice faltered as tears fell freely.

Sophia ended the song and put her hands over her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice strangled, “I should have chosen another song.” She felt his arms wrapping around her and she put her forehead on his chest.

Gabriel again. “You still love him, don’t you?” he asked, despondent. Is there room in your heart for me?

Sophia understood the meaning behind his question; it was the same way she had felt about Heather not so long ago. She dried her eyes and smiled sadly at him. “I loved him. Very much. He’ll always have a special place in my heart. We were married for seven magical, joyful years. He is the father of my daughter.” She sighed and looked down at her hands, “His death was so, so stupid. If not for me and my father-in-law, Gabriela would still have her father.”

“Your father-in-law?” Alistair asked puzzled. He remembered her saying that she felt responsible for his death, but she didn’t like speaking about it, so he knew little else.

She raised her head, anger and hatred burning in her eyes. “He killed his own son. The kidnappers demanded a ransom of about twenty-million pounds. Peanuts for Gabriel. Even for his father. But, oh, no. No,” she shook her head hard, “that awful man had to negotiate Gabriel’s life. His own son’s life. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Then after eighty days, he demanded proof that his son was still alive,” she whispered so low that he had to confirm.

“Proof?”

She stiffened and gripped his arms, her nails digging in. “They sent me... Me!” She squeezed her eyes shut, as if she could avoid the image that was forever imprinted in her mind. Battling the nausea that always rose when she remembered that day, she whispered, “His finger with his wedding band.”

Christ. He breathed, profoundly shocked, as his hand stroked her back, soothing. “You didn’t have K&R insurance?”

She shook her head. “Brazil stopped being rated as a high risk country. Our cars were armored. We had bodyguards...” She shrugged.

“And your bodyguards?”

“Murdered. I don’t know how, I don’t remember.”

“Why didn’t you pay the ransom?” he asked, astonished at the absurdity and horror of the whole story.

“Gabriel’s father blocked any access to the police or the kidnappers and he appointed himself as the negotiator. I didn’t have the money. Not like that.” She snapped her fingers. “I didn’t have the access to Gabriel’s accounts. I had my own money and properties, and we had a small joint account. I never cared about his money. He gave me everything I could want...” she breathed. “Felipe tried to help me, but Gabriel’s father had too much influence.”

Alistair didn’t understand. “But you were his wife... In a situation like that surely the police would-”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t well for a long time. I got an infection from the gunshot wounds at the public hospital where I was first taken. Although they saved my life, the doctors at public hospitals in Brazil work under precarious circumstances. My grandparents moved me to a private clinic and I underwent two more surgeries on my arm over the next month. Also, from the minute I regained consciousness after the first surgery, I was unwell, depressed. I had amnesia and terrible panic attacks.” Her eyes turned to blistering fire and she hissed, “And my father-in-law kept me drugged.”

He frowned. “Drugged?”

She nodded vigorously, “I suppose he paid off a doctor.”

His brow creased more, “You suppose?”

“I was kept heavily medicated for almost two months. Psychiatric drugs. They controlled the panic attacks, but made me apathetic and dizzy. The amnesia worsened. They were prescribing a much stronger dose than was needed. My grandmother took me to a different specialist when I-” She looked into his face and whispered, “When I forgot Gabriela’s name.”

“Jesus Christ, Sophia.” His green eyes flamed with anger and his fist clenched on her back. “How could anyone be so cruel?”

“He never liked me. Well,” she stood up and paced the room, “to make a very long story short after they sent me his finger, I realized I was going to lose Gabriel. I stopped taking all the drugs, even the painkillers. I called the Federal Police Chief in Rio de Janeiro, a very good friend of Gabriel’s-

“Why? The police wasn’t helping already?” Alistair asked, confused.

“Not the Federal Police. It has no jurisdiction on kidnappings,” she explained. “Well, they started an unofficial search for him. After sixteen days, the police discovered where Gabriel was being held captive. The kidnappers suspected the police were closing in and killed him before escaping.”

This part Alistair already knew. Somehow coming from Sophia’s mouth it seemed more barbaric and cruel.

“No one,” she shook her head, “no one harms someone I love and gets away unpunished. His parents will never see Gabriela again. Never. They convinced a judge that I was a threat to my own daughter, based on the medical reports of corrupt, unethical doctors. A judge ordered that I have no access to Gabriel’s money, properties and business based on those reports and his parents became Gabriela’s tutors.”

Alistair thinned his lips and started to rise from the bench, but she raised a hand to stop him and keep him away as she paced the room shoving her hands into her hair. If he touched her right now, she would lose it.

“Gabriela had a nervous attack when they came for her three days after Gabriel’s funeral with a warrant and policemen. Policemen, do you believe it? She was only two years old. TWO!” she shouted, her body trembling with wrath. “Oh, but he thought he was the über powerful man and I was the young idiot. He was nothing,” she hissed as she slashed her hand in the air and paced away. “I had many lawyer friends and my grandparents had connections in the High Courts. The next morning, I had Gabriela back and they were humiliated.” She dug her nails in her palms and breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. “I sued them for everything I could devise.” She turned to look at him, her chest heaving with labored breaths. “I had the last laugh, but it was bitter.”

He was frozen on the bench, thunderstruck, looking at a woman he didn’t know. Gone was the gentle and happy Sophia and the sensible lawyer who had a charitable foundation. The former glimpses he’d had of her as the avenging angel where nothing compared to this. Sophia looked like she was possessed by the devil himself.

He lifted an eyebrow, “Was it worth it?”

“No.” She shook her head with conviction. “They lost their only son, I lost my husband and Gabriela lost her father. And I-” I got eleven men killed.

She swallowed and fought down another wave of nausea. “I couldn’t stand it anymore so I decided to leave. It was too much for me, and for Gabriela. Edward was in Rio when the Leibowitzes took Gabriela. He knows how much she cried and screamed. The very next day after I got her back, we packed and traveled to London. Edward gave me shelter, he took care of everything for me. Everything.”

Alistair didn’t know if he should be jealous or grateful for Edward’s help.

She shook her head in disgust. “How innocent and immature I was. It was all about money. Dirty, bloody money. It can come and go so easily. They don’t see that life is what’s important. Love, friendship, trust, respect, a daily routine, someone to grow old with, siblings to cherish, family, a home; things people don’t give a damn about until they lose them, things money can’t bring back. How much is your life worth, Alistair Connor?” She heaved. “How much?”

Oh, Christ! He went to her this time, pulling her in his arms, his large frame involving her in warmth.

She lamely banged her fists on his chest, “Your life is priceless! Priceless!”

He put his chin on her head and caressed her hair, soothing her, “Shhh. It’s okay.”

They stood there for a while. As Alistair felt her breathing and heart calming down, he curled his finger under her chin to look at her eyes. The deep hurt and damage she concealed so well on a daily basis were bared to him. He kissed her forehead and murmured, “So much pain for someone so young. I wish I could ease it.”

“You do,” she whispered. “You do.”

He picked up her fists in his hands and entwined his fingers with hers. He was completely serious when he spoke, “I promise you this, Sophia, I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you or Gabriela ever again.”

7.57 p.m.

Sophia almost tripped on the stairs when she saw Ethan talking to Leonard in the hallway. She blinked twice not believing her eyes. What the hell is he doing here?

As if she had spoken the question out loud, he looked up and his beautiful azure eyes shone brighter. Exotic, sexy and hot, Sophia.

Leonard looked up too and his brows shot up. Despite being almost her brother-in-law, Leonard was still surprised at how beautiful Sophia was.

Sliding her palms down her Louis Vuitton pale rose wool-and-cotton dress, she climbed down the stairs, her stomach fluttering.

Ethan approached her and kissed her cheeks as he adjusted the Emilio Pucci beige fringed scarf around her shoulders just for the sake of touching her. “Beautiful as ever, darling.” Although her long dress covered her from neck to the tips of her Nina Ricci leather and lace open-toe boots, she was utterly delicious and provocative

“Hi, Ethan. What brings you here?” Sophia immediately cringed from the way she worded her question.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why, Sophia? Isn’t this the best hotel in the Highlands?”

“But-” But what, Sophia? “What about your place?”

“Altreck Caisteal is being refurbished. I have a meeting there on Monday so I came earlier to relax a bit.” He looked up over her shoulder and smiled. “Ah! There you are, Paola.”

Sophia turned and her mouth dropped open as Paola Di Luca, the supermodel, walked up to them. She had been on the cover of every magazine since she started appearing at Fashion Week events around the world. Almost as tall as Ethan, she was dressed in a Michael Kors short tight red dress, her dark-brown hair falling over the daring neckline.

“Sophia, this is a friend of mine, Paola di Luca. Paola, this is Sophia Leibowitz.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sophia,” Paola bent down to kiss Sophia on both cheeks.

“How do you do?” Sophia answered in Italian and Paola’s smile flashed bright and she started chatting with Sophia in Italian, as Leonard invited Ethan to join their party in the Laird Library.

Chapter 16

Alistair turned and his lips slightly parted in surprise as he saw Sophia entering the Laird Library on Leonard’s arm, followed by Ethan and Paola. Fuck. What is this son of a bitch doing here?

Sophia patted Leonard’s arm and disengaged herself, walking to Alistair with her hands outstretched as Alistair approached her with predator-like grace, his eyes hard and sharp as a hawk’s. The sexy smile on her lips told Alistair she knew the effect her transformation had on him.

“Alistair Connor,” she purred. His dark grin in return was enough to make her desire spark.

“Don’t you look lovely.” I want to carry you to the bedroom, rip your dress off and fuck you right now. Alistair reached out, his hand delving in her hair, the other cupping the small of her back and pulling her onto his body, in a blatant demonstration of ownership. His lips brushed over hers gently and he whispered in her ear, “Delectable. I want you now.”

She tsked and breathed to him, “Remember the doctor’s orders: Light exercise.”

He shook his head amazed, and let her go, putting his arm over her shoulders and turned to greet Ethan and Paola.

Sophia watched as the two men measured each other and exchanged civil greetings. Both were so breathtakingly handsome and male. Ethan controlled his masculine nature more than Alistair did and that was what attracted her to Alistair from the beginning. The danger of the unexpected and the wildness of his personality provoked strange feelings in her.

11.03 p.m.

“I still don’t understand why Sophia works so hard to remain... terra incognita.” Ethan squeezed her hand and released it.

And if you think you’re going to explore that territory once more, think again. “Sophia is anything but mysterious.” Alistair bristled from the other end of the table and received a kick on the shin from Alice.

His mood hung over the dining room like a storm cloud. Alice wasn’t sure others felt it, but she did, and it was wearing on her nerves.

Alistair Connor, you should have proposed already. Alistair wanted a real engagement ring on her finger not a commitment ring. He wanted to shout to Ethan to take his paws off Sophia. He wanted to drag her by the hair to his bedroom and make love to her until she didn’t know up from down. In fact, that’s exactly what I’m going to do as soon as this dinner ends. He smiled darkly and received another kick on the shin from Alice.

“I’m going to end up with a black-and-blue shin, sister dear,” he hissed.

Tavish, who was sitting in front of him, murmured back, “Then stop being an ogre and pay attention to the conversation.”

Alistair looked at the other end of the table where Ethan was seated, his hand over Sophia’s. “As if he weren’t conceited enough. Father gave him an unfair advantage placing him next to Sophia.”

“If you had been paying attention instead of fuming,” Alice said, “you would have noticed that she’s been repeatedly trying to bring you into the conversation.”

“She just said your name again a few seconds ago, but you didn’t even notice.” Tavish scolded. “Pay attention.”

Alistair huffed and raked his hand in his hair, trying to control his disordered emotions as he turned to the center of the table where Sophia was sitting.

“Adding insult to injury,” Ethan was saying, “he’s kept you to himself for all this time.”

“An eternity,” mocked Sophia. “Edward was just trying to help, Ethan. Don’t you think, Alistair Connor?”

“Aye,” Alistair snorted, “he had no interest in keeping you to himself. You are so naïve, Sophia.”

“Have you noticed too, MacCraig? Davidoff is fiercely protective of Sophia.”

Sophia rolled her eyes at the ridiculous banter. Both men are jealous of dear Edward. Ridiculous!

Paola, who was sitting in front of her, was accompanying the whole scene with keen eyes. Sophia looked at her apologetically and the beautiful woman just shrugged discreetly.

“My mother is looking forward to seeing you again, Sophia,” said Leonard. “She told me she’s invited an Afghan lecturer to speak in a month’s time and she would love it if you could participate too.” He stifled a sigh as he noticed that Ethan’s hand was over Sophia’s again.

“Darling,” Ethan said, “I didn’t tell you before because you cancelled our meeting on Friday, but I’m planning to host a gala ball to announce our partnership. Perhaps at The Dorchester. Their ballroom is beautiful. What do you think?”

What? A public event? Not ever, Mr. Ashford. “Ah, Ethan. I will have to think about it and talk with Mrs. Chanda and Edward-”

“My darling,” he drawled, “I must insist. We will make it very refined and small. Around two hundred guests. Seating could be charged at ten thousand pounds per person and it will help us raise a greater amount for a cause we are so passionate about.”

Dammit, Ethan! “Yes, I know. It would be great-”

“It will be great, Sophia. You and I will share our motivations and I’m sure it would be a huge success. I can’t wait,” Ethan picked up Sophia’s hand and kissed it. Lachlann, who was entertaining Leonard and Paola, stopped mid-sentence at the gesture.

Before Alistair could lunge across the table and strangle Ethan, Alice rose, “Shall we move to the game room for coffee, chocolates and a movie?” She walked over to Sophia and linking arms, said, “I bought those chocolates and macaroons you brought my father the other time. They are absolutely delicious.”

Paola and Lachlann followed them out of the room, leaving Tavish and Leonard behind to try and simmer down the animosity brewing between Ethan and Alistair.

Alistair’s blood was bubbling with anger and jealousy. “He’s still in love with you.”

But I’m not with him. “Of course not. Alistair Connor, he is just being courteous and, besides, this is just work.”

“You don’t need his money.”

“No, I don’t need his money. However, my foundation cannot waste this opportunity. It’s fifty-million pounds, per year. We don’t receive a donation like that every day.”

She caught the flicker of surprise in his eyes before he dismissed the amount with a slight gesture of his hand. “It’s no big deal.”

Indeed. “No big deal,” she repeated the words sarcastically. Don’t create reasons for a fight, Sophia. Appease him.

She put her hands on his chest and standing on her tiptoes kissed him lightly on the lips, trying to soothe his fears. “You shouldn’t worry when other men try and get my attention,” she stated. “I’m with you, Alistair Connor. I won’t look at anybody else. I don’t need anybody else.”

She felt his green gaze drift downward along her body and back to her face. “It’s unavoidable. You are too beautiful, too enticing.”

“And you’re fiercely protective and jealous, Lord Caveman of Distrustful-land,” she said, trying for a lighter mood.

“Aye, I am.” He lowered his face until their noses touched and he hissed, “Get used to it.”

Sophia rolled her eyes.

She was trying to be patient and understanding. She reminded herself that men could be the most irrational of creatures and that he had a past that didn’t help. She told herself a great many sensible things, yet she felt her temper slipping. “I’m sorry if I hurt your manly pride, but Ethan and I are friends and we have business together. There is nothing to be jealous of.”

“I don’t want you around him.” He impatiently raked his hand in his long ink-black hair. “Fifty-million pounds or not.”

Before she could respond, Tavish approached. And just in the nick of time, because Sophia was strongly tempted to pick up his mother’s antique Ming Dynasty vase and smash it on Alistair’s skull.

“Monopolizing Sophia again, I see,” said Tavish.

“She’s mine to monopolize. When I wish, as I wish,” Alistair answered darkly.

“Right, Lord Caveman.” Sophia turned and winked at Tavish. “I’m going to-”

Alistair’s eyes widened for a second and his hand shot up to her arm, keeping her in place. Frowning ominously at her, he said, “Don’t you dare go over there.”

She looked at his hand on her arm and back at his face, with a raised eyebrow, “Take back what you said.”

He gapped at her, “What did I say?”

“He is incorrigible, Sophia.” Tavish laughed. “Get used to his overbearing personality. We are going to watch a movie. Will you join us, Sophia?”

Fuck! Don’t even think of saying yes.

Sophia looked at Alistair, “Why not? Yes, Tavish Uilleam, we’d love-”

“That’s enough!” Alistair exited the game room through the glass door towing her by the arm with Tavish’s laughter following them out onto the Elm Courtyard. He stopped and whipped round to look at her. “Don’t provoke my ire, Sophia.”

She put a hand over her heart, mocking, “God forbid, my lord Marquis of Don’t-anger-me. God forbid.”

He exhaled a forceful breath and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her hard and hungrily, before saying, “I want to show you something. Come.”

Sophia licked her lips and prayed for patience as he muttered something under his breath about independent and stubborn women. She followed him to the other side of the courtyard to stop at very tall double doors flanked by two large windows.

He opened one and allowed Sophia to enter. He banged the door shut behind him and almost tripped over her standing at the entrance of the room.

She could discern tall, wild trees and tropical plants in the moonlight that came in through the huge glass panes that formed the rocky walls and part of the roof.

She looked around bewildered. The room was enormously wide and three stories high; a kind of a greenhouse. “This is magnificent.”

“My great-grandmother built it after a fire that almost collapsed this whole part of the castle. After her, all the duchesses have being adding to it, making it more and more enchanting.” He paced away from her to the far end of the greenhouse, near a small artificial rocky cascade that led into a lake in the center of the room. “It is one of my favorite places in Craigdale.”

He took off his blazer, threw it on a chair and sat in one of the beautiful and antique settees scattered around the room, patting the place beside him. He said gravely, “We need to talk.”

Alistair wasn’t a man that discussed or asked. He simply took. Without explanations. Without apologies. But in deference to Sophia and specially because of his feelings for her, he would try to explain a few things. He examined her, still standing by the door. “What’s the problem?”

“No butterflies, right?”

He smiled and shook his head, “Nae. No butterflies. Come here.”

Sophia crossed the room in awe, her hands touching the big leaves and exotic orchids like the ones that could be found in Rio de Janeiro, the Amazon forest or in some places in Africa.

“I could take some beautiful photos of Gabriela here,” she said to him as she sat on the divan, shed her high heels, and tucked her feet under her legs. “Imagine her looking for fairies here.”

He smiled as he rolled the cuffs of his shirt up. “I’ll suggest my father brings her here tomorrow night.”

“So, talk, Lord Caveman.” She turned to him expectantly, toying with the hem of her long gown as she admired his muscled forearms.

“Sophia, I know that you are an independent woman. And that you value this. And I do too, mind you. I know that you are still wary about me-”

“Wary about you?” She shook her head at him. “No, I’m not.”

You are. He let it go. “But maybe we have to establish some rules about control and your behavior, if we want our relationship to continue smoothly.”

Sophia’s eyes widened but she didn’t dare utter a question or opinion, barely humming, “Mmm.”

“I have always been the dominant partner of every... Err... Relationship I’ve engaged in, be it in the bedroom or out of it.” What good did that do me? Just to remind you, you stupid dominant, Heather cheated on you. He shooed the thought away. “Do you have any idea what that means?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Please, explain to me, the in the bedroom part first,” she said.

“I like to control, to give the orders. So, you on top is not my favorite position.”

I thought men loved this position. “Why not?”

Just talking about it awoke Alistair’s cock from its semi-asleep state and his voice turned husky as he said, “Because I prefer to be the one in command. Unless I’m in a mood to switch.”

Huh? “And what else?”

“I like you beneath me or on all fours. I also like you bound and blindfolded under my mercy. I like you on your knees, sucking me hard. And I’m dying to show you new things. This morning... It was great. But there is a lot more I want to show you. This innocence of yours...” He put his hands under her dress and ran his hands over her smooth legs, what he meant to say completely forgotten as he bent over to kiss her while his fingers played with her frilly lace thong. “You drive me crazy, Sophia.”

He rose and lifted her by the waist, setting her on her feet before him, facing one of the glass walls. He flicked a switch and a soft light from a table lamp flooded the room.

Sophia blinked at her sudden image mirrored in the glass.

Alistair shadowed her from behind as he slowly undid the back of her dress. “Look at you. So discreetly and elegantly dressed, covered from head to toe, and you still set my imagination on fire.” His long fingers pushed the dress from her shoulders, baring her upper torso to the light. His hands cupped her breasts. “No bra. I like that.”

Sophia licked her lips and whispered, “What are you doing?”

He bent his head and traced the shell of one ear with his tongue before taking the earlobe in his mouth, gently biting it. His eyes met hers in the glass. “A fantasy of mine. I’ve always wanted to make love here.”

His deep voice murmuring the words in her ear and his thumb and forefinger rolling her nipples sent a sharp thrill of molten desire racing through her.

She shuddered and gasped, putting an arm over her breasts. “Someone might-”

“No one will see us.” He brought her arms down to her sides and again he met her gaze. “Keep your eyes open and watch my hands. Just feel. I want you to give me everything; every gasp, moan, scream. I want your pleasure. All of it.” His words were low and hypnotic, as were the rhythm of his hands.

Sophia couldn’t drag her eyes from his hands caressing her breasts.

He kissed her neck and whispered, “Concentrate on the sensations.”

She moaned as his fingers swirled, then squeezed her nipples with light pinches, sending shivers through her body. Her legs started to tremble and she leaned back onto his chest, feeling his hard muscles covered by the fine Egyptian cotton against her bare back.

His hands left her breasts for a second to unbutton his shirt as his mouth descended on her neck and shoulders. His shirt fluttered to the floor and instantly his hands were on her again, opening the last buttons and pushing her dress down. As soon as it slithered down her legs, one of his hand splayed across her stomach, holding her flush against his hard arousal sheathed by his trousers.

Sophia ignored the dress as it pooled around her feet in a rosy cloud, too entranced and mesmerized by the sight of his hands roaming freely over her almost naked body in a room anyone could enter at any time.

“Look at you, Sophia. So beautiful.” From behind, his knee pressed her legs apart as his lips grazed the soft skin beneath her ear. “Keep watching.”

Sophia refocused on the mirror and watched as his hands slid lower and his thumbs hooked on the sides of her thong and pushed it down her legs, liberating only one foot.

He knelt behind her and his long fingers trailed up, slowly and tantalizingly over her calfs. He stopped to lick the back of her knees and she gasped. His tongue swirled up and he bit, first one round buttock then another, as his fingers roamed over her inner thighs, to tangled in her small patch of curls, then sliding further, pressing inward.

She widened her legs further, allowing him better access, but he retreated and tugged her curls. He rose to his full height, towering over her from behind, “Next time I want you all bare.”

Her head fell back against his shoulder; her spine arched. She heard a low moan, and knew it was hers. Her body was fully alive, registering every touch, every knowing caress. From under hooded eyelids, Sophia watched the erotic movement of his hands. Then he shifted, his arms coming around her, surrounding her, his left hand cupping her right breast, his right hand splaying over her stomach.

He touched her softness and found her wet and hot. “Always ready, Sophia.” And stroked.

“For you,” she said breathlessly, arching. She felt the muscles of his arm shift as he reached further, felt the pressure of his hand between her thighs, felt the slow inexorable invasion as one long finger entered her. Then another. Slowly at first and then quicker and completely, so that the heel of his hand pressed on her clitoris with every shift.

Sensation upon sensation kindled the fire in Sophia. Of their own volition, her hands found the button of his trousers and unfastened and unzipped them, shoving them down with his underwear and pressing herself harder on his erection. His crisp hairs rasped the soft skin of her butt when his erection pressed itself between her mounds. His hand shifted as his long, broad fingers slid deeper and his thumb pressed, caressed.

Sophia moaned as lightning lanced through her veins. “I want you. Now.”

“Nae.” Even as her body tightened and arched, sensations swirling in a vortex inside her, his caresses didn’t stop, only increased in speed. “Open your eyes and keep watching.”

She opened her yellow diamond eyes to see he was watching her intently as his fingers rolled a nipple and his other hand pushed deeper in between her thighs, a third finger joining in and his erection pressed on her cheeks, probing but not entering.

She moaned and her body tightened as his thumb circled and pressed down on her with each thrust of his hand.

Pleasure built, soared higher and crystallized. Only to fracture in a million different pieces. If Alistair hadn’t held her firmly with an arm on her waist, Sophia would have crumpled to the floor as her orgasm shot through her body and she called his name out loud.

He immediately put her on the divan, lay on top of her and plunged inside her still quivering body with a forceful thrust.

Sophia’s delighted scream rented the quiet of the greenhouse as another climax built inside her. She looked up to meet his green eyes and the fierce expression of passion in them and the way he mastered her body skillfully spiraled her lust to unimaginable heights, exploding as a super nova at the same time he shouted her name and spilled himself in her. The sudden burst of light behind her eyes turned to darkness, a calm and soothing languishness that left her boneless.

Sophia felt him holding her as she slowly returned to reality. Head on his shoulder, she drew random designs in his bare chest with a long red nail. Even after he’d sated her, she inexplicably wanted more. Part of her mused she couldn’t have enough because she had enjoyed it as she never had before. Gabriel had been a thorough and considerate lover, but Alistair coached emotions from her she had never thought she could feel.

She kissed his chest and purred.

“I love you,” he whispered on her hair. He didn’t want to move from the divan, but it was getting late and she needed to rest. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me help you back to our room.”

Moonlight bathed the courtyard and the greenhouse in soft white light, illuminating the tall ancient oaks, the delicate plants and the divan with its rumpled cushions as they exited the exotic greenhouse. They walked back to the main part of the house, Sophia leaning completely on Alistair’s strong body as his arm gathered her by the waist.

They were so involved in each other that they didn’t notice when a footstep broke the quietness of the night. A long and menacing shadow rented the moonlit Elm Courtyard. Then the figure slipped away, back into the castle through a glass door and the shadow was no more.

Monday, March 29th, 2010.

5.01 a.m.

Gabriel! No! GABRIEL!

Her heart beating wildly, Sophia woke up in a panic. She couldn’t remember the dream exactly, but for the first time its underlying terror was accompanied by flashes of Gabriel’s face, shouts and screams. Different voices. Lots of men. And pain all over her body. She wanted to cry and scream. She looked around the darkened room and her eyes stopped on Alistair’s sleeping figure.

Breathe, Sophia. Breathe. She sat up in bed and clutched her knees, trying to calm her breathing and heart rate.

She didn’t want to go back to sleep again. She stumbled out of bed, donning her wrap, sat in one of the armchairs and wrapped a cashmere blanket around her. She was too frightened by the echoes of the horror that was coming back, resonating loudly inside her mind.

Sophia tried to give some order to the shadows and flashes, without success. It only worsened the anxiety and distress she was feeling. She suppressed the sounds that were threatening to burst from her throat, shivered and gathered the blanket more firmly around her body.

Alistair opened his eyes, stretching his arms over his head. His mind was clear, his body relaxed from sex and sleep, and he felt a deep peace inside his usually troubled soul. But, as his eyes focused to see a shrunken Sophia, enveloped in a blanket, sitting in one of the armchairs looking at nothing, his inner peace was replaced by anxiety.

He rose from the bed and walked to crouch in front of her. “Hey,” he whispered, taking her away from her thoughts. He caressed the contours of her face. “Come back to bed. It’s too early to be up and about.”

She looked so vulnerable, her eyes dark and scared; every instinct in him cried out to for him to do something.

Sophia nodded, afraid to speak and hear something different in her own voice.

Carefully he picked her up from the armchair and tugged her onto his chest and led her back to bed. He sat, reclining on the headboard, with her on his shoulder. She was cold and tense as he tucked one of the coverlets around their body. “What happened? I didn’t hear you wake up. Did you have a nightmare?”

“With Gabriel. And... I guess, the night of the kidnapping,” she whispered and relaxed into his embrace as if the confession released something inside her. She looked up at his face, searching his forest green eyes for assurance. “Alistair...” she murmured, “I don’t know if I want to remember.” I’m so afraid.

His warm hand framed her face, pushing it gently to his shoulder and his long fingers plunged into her hair, combing it in a soothing movement. “Don’t be afraid. The mind is wise. It will give you only what you can cope with. And I’m here, for whatever happens. I will always be here,” he breathed on her lips and lightly kissed her. “You need rest. Let’s sleep a bit more.”

7.29 a.m.

Sophia tiptoed out of the room dressed in her work out clothes. Alistair had dozed off immediately after she had feigned sleep.

As she headed downstairs to the gym, on the same floor as the Spa, she ran into Paola and Ethan on her way to breakfast, already in fitness clothes.

They had breakfast together, Sophia and Paola chatting like old friends about fashion and the new trends.

When they entered the work out room, Tavish was already there lifting weights, wearing a black T-shirt and black shorts, his muscles bulging with the effort. He didn’t notice them as he was looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

Paola winked conspiratorially at Sophia, discretely jutting her chin at the sight of his back and Sophia couldn’t stop the broad smile that appeared on her lips. From the front or from the back, Tavish was a hunk.

“Good morning, Tavish Uilleam,” Sophia said.

He turned and smiled at them, lifting one weight as a greeting, “Hey. Morning.”

A uniformed trainer walked up to them and introduced himself as Niall, asking if they needed assistance. Paola coquettishly asked for help to program the treadmill while Sophia politely refused.

Sophia went to an area where she could stretch, before starting her usual sequence of weight lifting while Ethan joined Tavish.

8.13 a.m.

Sophia chose the treadmill that faced the extensive lawn outside, instead of one facing the TVs, where Paola and Tavish were having a nice chat, while they walked at a leisurely pace, and Ethan ran at a fast speed.

The view of the lawn was soothing. Exactly what she needed. Her mind was still frayed from the nightmare and the images that persisted in the dark corners of her memory.

She played her running list on her iPod and set the treadmill to a fast pace, but slower than she was used to. She didn’t want Alistair arriving and surprising her in one of her sprints.

Her mind started to drift away, lulled by the music and the comfortable jogging pace she had set. To escape the memories, she would run to the end of the world, if necessary.

A clear flash startled her and a shimmering image took form in front of her. Sophia shook her head hard but the image didn’t disappear. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel Leibowitz was dressed in a tailored navy suit with a light-pink silk tie. He cocked his head to the side in his charming, beguiling way and smiled at her.

She held out her hand and called again, louder this time, “Gabriel?”

His blue eyes sparkled and he extended his hand to hold hers, asking, “Do you want to dance?”

The speed on the treadmill was suddenly too much. Her breath was squeezed out of her lungs by a searing pain as she tripped and fell.

Chapter 17

8.19 a.m.

“Come on, Sophia. Wake up,” Tavish coached, his voice chasing away the images that had shocked her. “Everything is okay. You’re safe.”

She blinked and looked up to stare into his concerned green eyes.

“Are you feeling better?”

Still trembling, she exhaled a shuddering breath and nodded, looking around. He was kneeling next to the treadmill she had been using, with a wide-eyed Paola and a frowning, worried Ethan hovering behind him.

She closed her eyes embarrassed and whispered, “I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

She tried to move, but as she put her hand on the floor to stand up, pain spread through her arm.

“Don’t move,” he ordered. “You hurt yourself. I couldn’t catch you before you fell.”

Sophia gingerly moved her arm and saw that her palms, one of her forearms and both knees were scraped and that she had lost one of her sneakers. Oh, great! Just great, Sophia! Now you are having daylight hallucinations while running on the treadmill. Just wait until Alistair hears about this!

“You cut your chin,” Tavish said, gesturing to the underside of her face. “Is it hurting too much?”

Niall arrived with a first-aid kit and knelt on her other side.

“No,” she whispered. Fantastic. More stitches. I’m going to end up like Frankenstein’s monster.

“Open and close your mouth. Does that hurt?” She shook her head and Tavish turned her face gently to better look at the small cut. “You won’t need stitches. Just a small patch. Are you feeling dizzy?”

“No. I’m okay. Really,” she whispered, feeling mortified. They must think I’m mad. Talking to a dead man! For God’s sake, Sophia.

Tavish slowly raised from his kneeling position carrying her in his arms. He was not able to stifle a wince of pain when his leg complained from the movement.

“Put me down. I can-”

“Give this irritating and stubborn woman to me, Tavish Uilleam.” Alistair’s aggravated voice was heard from behind.

Oh, yeah! Here it comes. Sophia sighed and closed her eyes, not wanting to see the anger on his face. Maybe he will leave me alone if I pretend to be asleep or dizzy.

“Jesus Christ, Sophia!” Alistair thundered as Tavish passed her to his arms. “I can’t close my eyes for a second and you run away looking for trouble?”

Some greeting, Lord Caveman! Unbidden, Sophia’s lips curled and she opened one eye to look at him and completely melted at the sight of that rugged man already half-dressed for work in a crisp white Egyptian cotton shirt and his Hèrmes blue tie with small green fish hanging loosely around his heck.

For Christ’s sake, Sophia. Alistair shook his head at her and his frown deepened. “Do you want to drive me mad, lass?” he asked as he squeezed her gently in his arms. “What do I have to do? Lock the door and hide the key? Chain you to my bed?”

Oh, yeah, please do! Sophia giggled, amazed by the idea, but he didn’t smile back.

Alistair had climbed down the stairs three at a time, worried out of his mind when Niall called him saying that Sophia had fallen on the treadmill.

“Niall, Mrs. Leibowitz is forbidden from exercising here alone,” Alistair instructed the trainer. “If she comes down alone, call me instantly.”

“Yes, of course, sir,” Niall bobbed his head assertively as Sophia rolled her eyes heavenward and huffed.

Paola smiled at Ethan, but he didn’t notice it. He was observing, with narrowed eyes, the loving and concerned way Alistair was holding Sophia.

“Alistair Connor, Sophia wasn’t doing anything wrong. There’s no need to-” Tavish started to say in a pacifying voice to be brusquely interrupted.

“Don’t tell me how to deal with her,” Alistair hissed at his brother. “I’m taking her upstairs. I expect you in my room to take care of her as soon as you’ve had a shower.” He didn’t wait for Tavish’s assent and turned his back on the group and marched to the lifts, giving a subsided but grinning Sophia an earful, as if she were a tomboy of Gabriela’s age.

10 a.m.

“Father, Sophia is your responsibility today,” Alistair said before he bent to kiss her lips lightly. “And you, Sophia, you’d better behave. I have too much to do today and Inverness is not as close as my bedroom is to the gym.”

“Yes, sire,” she mocked and winked at him. At his scold, she kissed her crossed fingers, “I will. I promise.”

He looked at her, not really convinced, and almost gave up going to work to stay with her. He crouched to stare seriously into Gabriela’s blue eyes. “Fairy, she’s your responsibility too. Promise to call me if she misbehaves?”

His lips curled as Sophia huffed and Gabriela, very seriously, nodded. “I will, Alistair. I promise.”

“Good. I’m counting on you.” Alistair ruffled Gabriela’s blonde hair and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Sophia into his arms in a fierce embrace before kissing her again. “I’ll be back for dinner. Anything - anything - you call me. Promise?”

Sophia smiled, enchanted with his concern and whispered, “I promise.”

“Come on, Alistair Connor,” Tavish called from the door of Alistair’s bedroom, “Munro’s ready and waiting.”

Fuck. I wish I didn’t need to work today. Reluctantly, he orse from the bed and left the room.

Alistair ducked into the Rolls-Royce Phantom, closed the door and turned to watch the house as the car drove to Craigdale’s heliport.

Tavish chuckled and Alistair turned to look at his brother. “The mighty Alistair Connor concerned for a woman.”

Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward and changed the subject, “So, did your shrink get a name for me yet?”

“Aye. He suggested two psychotherapists. A man and a woman. Both are very well regarded and they work at the same place. Which do you prefer?”

“The man,” was Alistair’s immediate response.

“Very well.” Tavish forwarded the contact from his cell phone. “Andrew Volk. Graduated from Cambridge and now teaches there in the psychology department. His office is near the bank, just across the river, on Colombo Street. Dr. Volk’s approach is very-”

“Tavish Uilleam. Do you really think I need counseling?”

“Is this a serious question?” Tavish asked, incredulous. “Let me explain something to you. Counseling tends to look at current problems, while psychotherapy tends to go deeper into past experiences. You should have been doing psychotherapy since before Nathalie died. Psychoanalysis or analytic psychotherapy are not only for people who have mental disorders, but also for those who have mental distress. It’s more than clear to me that you need it. And it seems that Sophia shares my opinion.”

“I don’t know...” Alistair shook his head slowly. He didn’t relish the idea of reliving Heather’s betrayal or Nathalie’s death. He didn’t want to talk about his debauchery or about the hundreds of women he’d bedded and gladly punished. He just wanted to focus on a new future with Sophia and Gabriela.

“It’ll help you. I assure you, Brother. We have impulses, perceptions and thoughts, which we aren’t consciously aware of. There are conflicts in these aspects of our minds. Heather triggered many unconscious aspects of your own personality that I’m sure even you didn’t know you had. You came in contact with a darker side that has poisoned you. That gave rise to disturbances and symptoms which now need treatment.”

Alistair opened the door and walked to his helicopter thinking about his brother’s words. He greeted Munro and sat on the seat, brooding.

“Alistair Connor, believe me. It will be very good for you. Psychoanalysis isn’t a superficial thing or just at the level of intellectual problem solving. It helps a person to think about what is going on in their life, not only at a time of difficulty. In some cases, patient and therapist meet three or four times a week-”

“I don’t have that kind of time.” Alistair frowned. “This is bullshit.”

“You can do fewer sessions, but no less than twice a week.” When Alistair opened his mouth to say something, Tavish interrupted him, “Try it. For six months, at least. Then, only after this period, you tell me what you think about it.”

London, Colombo Street. Dr. Andrew Volk’s Office.

Thursday, April 1st, 2010.

9.37 a.m.

“It’s worth remembering that most people behave self-destructively at times, even if they don’t realize it or think that they are hurting only other people around them.” Dr. Volk settled himself more comfortably in his armchair. “Sometimes, Alistair, this is done just to numb or distract and avoid being alone with their thoughts and feelings. It’s already an enormous step that you can admit that what you have done was because you felt guilty over your daughter’s death.”

“I’ve never tried to fool myself. I’m an intelligent man.”

“I’m not disputing it. But, perhaps, you don’t have the full notion of the importance of happened to you. The worst damages were caused by things you are not conscious. You’re very much in control and there are many things that escape our control and reason. The world is also made of irrational things. Stop behaving so rationally. I want you to realize is that these feelings are not very well worked out. That your responses were a way to cope with feelings that threatened to overwhelm you. You lost your wife and daughter on the same day.”

“Feelings,” Alistair snorted. “I didn’t have any feelings for Heather, Andrew. I hate her with all my being.”

Dr. Volk almost smiled. “Unfortunately, I have to contradict you. You had feelings for Heather, yes. You hated her and painful emotions, such as rage, hate, self-hatred and guilt are included in these feelings I’m talking about. Also, sadness, grief, emptiness, loneliness and many others show themselves through the body, where they can develop somatic reactions and need to be dealt with. You were abused-”

“Abused?”

“Have you ever stopped to think about this? All the time you keep saying that you understand and that you know what happened, but you don’t. You don’t want to hear and you don’t even let me approach you. You keep rationalizing what happened. Stop looking at things so coldly, Alistair. Yes, you were abused.”

“Andrew, I wasn’t a child anymore. I was twenty-six years old. I was not forced. I entered the relationship of my own free will.” Alistair tilted his head to the side and finished, “And I liked it.” Up to a certain point.

“Very well. Let me just clarify that there are many different forms of abuse, sometimes we are not able to see it. Your marriage was a relationship which must be named for what it was: a psychologically damaging relationship.”

Niarchos Angepopoulos’s house, in the gazebo.

Sunday, June 18th, 1989.

12.12 p.m.

Ethan touched the letter for the thousandth time, tracing the swirls and contours of Eve’s handwriting. He could almost feel the softness of her skin under his fingertips and a tear stained the paper. He didn’t wipe his face as more tears fell.

He couldn’t understand what had happened. Everything was going so well. During the past months they had settled into an enchanting routine: they went to school, they did their homework, they played tennis, they travelled at the weekends and they made love every single night.

Why has she left me? When Isis discovered Eve in Ethan’s bed the morning after his birthday, he expected her to be angry, but she gave them her blessing, saying that she preferred that Eve had her first time with a gentleman like Ethan and that she was happy they were dating. Niarchos had also congratulated Ethan. Everybody was happy.

So, what went wrong? Disobeying his grandfather’s orders, he returned to the house, blinded to the beautiful flowers and hummingbirds that graced the garden.

12.20 p.m.

Ethan slowly pushed open his grandfather’s home office door. He had no more strength left inside him. The sound of feminine voices made him stop.

Eve. So she regretted leaving and has come back. A smile split his face and he brushed away his tears. But as he eavesdropped, his smile waned.

“You played your parts well, my dears.” Niarchos kissed Eve and Isis on the cheek and handed them an envelope each. “I’ve been generous with the bonuses. I have to congratulate you, Eve. You are an accomplished actress.”

“Monsieur Angepopoulos, it was my most agreeable job,” Eve said, matter of factly. “Your grandson is a gentleman. A little green compared to you, but still a delicious treat. I wish all my clients were hunks like you and your grandson.”

Clients? What... Eve was paid? She’s a... prostitute? Ethan was astounded.

Niarchos chortled. “Thanks, my dear. Next time, I want a taste of you.”

Eve laughed. “Mon chèr, that would be my pleasure.”

How dare she! How dare they! Something broke inside Ethan’s soul and he lost his temper. He pushed the door wide open and shouted, “You slut! You faked it the whole time, didn’t you?” He advanced in Eve’s direction, grabbed her by the arms, turning her to him, heaving with anger. “You whore! You-” He slapped her so hard that she fell on the floor.

“Ethan!” Niarchos’s voice boomed in the room. “Control yourself.”

“And you, Grandpa! You!” He didn’t know what to say. He was too confused. He never thought that his grandfather would betray him like that. He turned and ran away from the office. He didn’t want to see her. Never again. He didn’t want to face his grandfather.

Ethan ran. He ran through the garden and reached the beach. And continued running.

His tears blinded him and he tripped and fell on the sand. He rose and ran, entering the sea, not even bothering to take off his shoes, and swam away. He heard his grandfather calling his name, but he kept on swimming.

He didn’t know how far or how long he swam. He only stopped when his eyes were stinging from the salt and his arms and legs couldn’t carry him any farther.

Then he turned and looked at the lonely old man sitting on one of the reclining chairs with his head in his hands. His gray mane of hair glimmered under the sun.

Niarchos Angepopoulos was Ethan’s only family now.

And he was there at the beach.

Still there. Waiting for him to return.

Ethan swam back.

Ells Hall.

Thursday, April 1st, 2010.

8.18 p.m.

Sophia entered the game room, wearing a silvery ankle length gown that made Tavish whisper to Leonard, “Oh, this is so fucking unfair. Some guys have all the luck. She looks like an angel.”

“Sophia is not just an angel, Tavish Uilleam,” Leonard said to his brother-in-law, with an amazed tone in his voice. “Not by a long shot.”

At that moment, she looked totally innocent, standing by the grand piano in the corner, unaware of the men discussing her. She only had eyes for the rugged man in front of her.

The dress clung sensuously to her curves without being overly tight. The sleeves and the skirt flared and swung as she walked. The marks on her neck were long gone and the neckline enticed the eye. Her hair hung down to the small of her back in a dark cascade beckoning for caresses.

To Alistair, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. And she was his. No one else’s. He looked around the room and discovered Tavish and Leonard observing Sophia, their gazes glued to her. He pulled her by the hand to the piano bench, “Come. Play with me.”

“Alistair has had his share of misfortune,” Leonard said, turning back to Tavish. “I wouldn’t wish what he’s been through on my worst enemy.”

Tavish looked at his brother-in-law and pondered his next question. “You know, don’t you?”

“What?” Leonard was very ethical and never talked about his clients. No matter what. No one in the family knew that Alistair had gone to him asking for help.

“About Heather. That she was cheating.”

This he could talk about. Everyone knew that Heather had been unfaithful. Leonard frowned slightly and said in a low voice, “Tavish, as always the spouse is the last to know. I’m sure Alistair thinks no one knows.”

“He never talked to me. Did he-”

“No, we never spoke overtly about it. But if he had come to you, would you have been able to tell him, your estranged brother, that the woman you abhorred and had counseled against was cheating on him?”

Tavish sighed and shook his head, “Nae, I guess not.”

“Let’s keep it that way, then.” Leonard changed the subject as Alexander joined them, but Alistair’s image of when they were younger came back to his mind.

He looked to where Sophia and Alistair were seated, playing the piano together. Leonard sighed. He knew that Alistair’s scars ran deep and that time didn’t make one forget the kinds of things that had happened to him. There was some hope, however. Sophia was just what Alistair needed. Looking at them together, Leonard wished his friend found peace within himself not to mess up with her.

11.37 p.m.

“I’ve told you, Alice, I’m not going to be the duke,” Alistair said harshly, startling Sophia, who was talking with Leonard.

A silence filled the library and Alistair looked at Tavish. “You are, Tavish Uilleam. Get ready for it.”

“Your brother is only second in line.” Lachlann prompted. “And you’re young. You could still have an heir.”

Sophia felt Alistair stiffen beside her.

“This subject is not open for discussion.” His other hand on his thigh was fisted so hard its knuckles were white.

Sophia looked at the sudden stern faces and tensed. So... They don’t know. She squeezed Alistair’s hand gently. But what about artificial insemination or adoption? The thoughts left her reeling. Oh, I’m sure we can find a way.

Alistair looked at her, an anguished expression in his eyes, “The next duke will be Tavish Uilleam. So, he should get married soon and beget an heir for the dukedom.” Because there’ll be no heirs coming from my rotten cock.

“But why? I don’t get it, Alistair Connor,” Tavish shook her head.

And I’m not going to explain it to you. “This discussion is closed.”

Sophia silently glanced at Alistair’s profile; lines bracketed his mouth, his lips were set in a thin line and his eyes were mere slits, the long black lashes almost fusing. She could see that he was holding his temper in check by a thin thread. She scooted closer to him, not sure what to do, but trying to transmit a bit of comfort. He intertwined his fingers with hers, squeezing them.

“When you inherit the title-” Lachlann tentatively started.

“Want me to disclaim it?” His breath altered. “I can do it first thing tomorrow.”

“Stop talking nonsense, Alistair Connor,” Alice’s demeanor darkened and her temper flared, when she noticed Lachlann’s disappointed grimace.

“Alice-” Leonard started just to be interrupted by his wife, “You’ll regret it when you have a son-”

“Enough!” Alistair roared, banging his open hand on the sofa arm, heaving. He looked around staring at each one in the room, but avoiding Sophia’s gaze.

“Enough.” He repeated in a lower and more controlled voice. He was squeezing their fingers so hard that it hurt Sophia.

A awkward silence ensued for a few seconds before Sophia offered as a change of subject. “Do you hunt here, Lachlann?”

“Only if no one is near.” Leonard immediately grasped the opportunity to make things light again. He winked at Sophia. As she looked at Leonard, puzzled, he explained, “Lachlann never manages to hit anything, so he hunts with Erskine. Erskine makes the shot, and Lachlann brings it back saying he shot it. Alice shoots better than he does.”

Lachlann laughed. “It’s you who has poor aim, Leonard.” He eyed Sophia. “Do you hunt?”

“I’ve never had the opportunity,” Sophia answered and she could feel Alistair’s body slowly relaxing.

He turned to her. “Do you know how to shoot?”

“No.”

“We can go tomorrow, if you want,” Lachlann suggested. “One of the trails goes through the forest. It’s very beautiful this time of year. And the roebuck season has just started.”

“I can teach you to shoot. It’s not difficult,” Alistair offered.

“Nae,” said Tavish, with a weird expression on his handsome face. He lifted from his place and walked toward the door, limping noticeably. “It’s not difficult, Sophia. In fact, it’s amazingly easy to kill a living being.” He paused on the threshold. “Count me out. I’ll stay with the kids. Good night.”

Even though he closed the door softly behind him, it seemed like a loud bang was heard in the room.

Lachlann sighed and turned to Sophia, “I’m sorry, my dear. Tavish Uilleam is moody sometimes.”

Both of your sons are, Lachlann. “Please,” Sophia waved away his apology. “It will be nice to explore the forest, even if I don’t do any shooting.”

“Very well.” Lachlann rose from the sofa. “So we’ll change our schedule for tomorrow. We can go riding in the afternoon, since they’re easier to find at dusk. We can leave here around six. We’ll be at the trail in an hour or so.”

Leonard stood up too and turned to his father-in-law with a smile, “Is Erskine coming too, Lachlann?”

“Sophia, I’m counting on you to bear witness to my good aim.” Lachlann made a face at Leonard. “Next time Leonard says anything, I’ll call on your testimony.”

“My pleasure, Lachlann,” Sophia agreed.

“See you at breakfast, then,” Alice said, entwining her fingers with Leonard’s as they exited the room. “Good night, everyone.”

Alexander, Andrew and Domitila rose too, bidding their goodnights. When the library door closed, Alistair raised from the sofa and poured himself a whisky, “Want one?”

Sophia shook her head as she watched Alistair drink his whisky neat, in one gulp, and poured himself another, his stiff spine revealing the tension in him, despite his controlled expression. He leaned against the edge of the huge mahogany desk sipping his drink.

“You’ve seduced me all evening in this dress of yours,” he managed to force the words past his tight throat.

Oh, please, Alistair Connor. Sophia almost rolled her eyes heavenward at his futile attempt to dismiss the topic that he knew she was going to broach. She joined him by the desk. “I think I want a whisky after all.”

When he handed her the glass, she gulped it down as he had done and put the glass down with a defiant thump.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she stepped closer, looking up at his forest green eyes.

“They don’t know, do they?”

He didn’t ask what she was referring to. He just thinned his lips and shook his head. Everything in him indicated he didn’t want to talk about the subject, but Sophia was as stubborn as him and persisted. She had to know what he thought about her wish to have more children.

“Why are you so set against having an heir-”

“I told you I’m sterile.” His voice was icy and he bent his head to kiss her, intent on changing the subject.

Despite the heated kiss, Sophia would not let him digress. “So what? Are you opposed to adoption or artificial-”

“Sophia.” He put his hands on her hips and pulled her flush to his body. His eyes glued to hers, “Heirs to the Craigdale dukedom are only thus considered if they are male heirs of the body lawfully begotten. No adoptions or donate semen could supplant what I can’t do anymore.”

Oh! Sophia, you are so stupid. “So your children... if adopted or... Would never-”

“Never.” His eyes clouded briefly and then blazed green flames. Before Sophia could comprehend the emotion that flickered there, he spun her around and bent her down over the desk.

She gasped, surprised as he stepped closer and his hand grabbed a handful of her dress throwing it over the small of her back.

“I will have you on this desk. Open your legs.” His thick thigh nudged her legs open from behind and he pulled down her panties as he opened his trousers. He pressed his torso onto her back and the tip of his erection brushed her.

“No foreplay, Sophia,” his hot breath fanned her cheek and he brushed her hair away to nip her earlobe and her neck.

“The door,” she reasoned as desire pooled in her body.

“Fuck the door. Fuck everything.” He grabbed her hair in his fist and angled her head so he could kiss her.

Sophia closed her eyes in pleasure as he pushed, firm and sure, prying her body open. The pressure of him inside her, gliding forward and then back, in shallow thrust was pure heaven and made her moan in delight, “Ah!”

He paused, “Am I hurt-”

“Don’t stop.” Sophia’s fingers gripped the edge of the table to steady herself as Alistair pressed her against the desk, holding her hips, as he pushed himself deeper still.

Sophia moaned, clutching the table, turned on by the possibility of their being discovered.

With a hard jerk and a loud groan, he plunged to the hilt inside her, only to yank roughly back and inside again.

His arousal hit deeper than ever inside her body and she cried low, “Alistair Connor!”

Anyone can open the door at any moment. Never had a man taken her like this, so hard, wild and dangerously. Even wilder than at the greenhouse. And she was loving every moment of it.

His labored breaths turned to soft groans as he moved in and out, harder, faster. “Come, Sophia.” Alistair shifted, pulling her backwards from the desk with him deep inside her. He grabbed her hand and put it on her clitoris. “Pleasure yourself.”

Pressure built, the ache of oncoming pleasure growing.

“Alistair,” she cried. “Harder, faster.” She was so close to her release and he pumped faster and harder, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her curved hip as the other tugged again at her hair to slant her mouth to better accommodate his invading tongue.

His lips muffled her scream, her whole body tensing as wave after wave of delight took control of it.

Alistair shoved forcefully inside her once more, grunting his climax through clenched teeth, crushing her on the desk with his torso as he relaxed on her back.

Moments later, he withdrew and composed himself. He cleaned her with his handkerchief, redressed her and arranged her dress while she recovered from the lethargy that always came over her in the aftermath.

“Alistair Connor,” she whispered.

Lifting her in his arms, he moved to the sofa with her on his lap. “You okay?”

“Mmmm,” she opened her yellow diamond eyes to stare at his forest green ones. Lazily, she lifted her arms and plunged her hands in his silky hair, pulling his head down to kiss him leisurely. “You are turning me into a wanton woman. I want more. I want something different.”

This gets better every day. He laughed and murmured on her lips, “As you wish, my lady.”

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

Friday, April 2nd, 2010.

2.23 a.m.

Ethan stared gloomily out the window of his living room into the London night. His heart and soul were in complete turmoil.

He knew that what he felt for Sophia was not simply lust or a passing infatuation. He wanted her, yes. There was no doubt about it. However, it was not his libido that made him obsessed. It was love. But, he wouldn’t take what wasn’t willingly given and the last thing he wanted was to cause her pain.

He braced his forearm on the cold window and rested his forehead on it. I should rid myself of this madness. He looked up to the almost full moon as if hoping for an answer. I just don’t know how.

The sound of the soft footsteps on the stairs reached him.

Barbara climbed down the last step and her eyes searched the moonlit room for Ethan.

He turned and saw her standing in the shadows, wearing a diaphanous black negligé. I need Sophia.

His unfocused gaze was so frightening that Barbara froze and the room went deathly quiet for many seconds before she whispered, “Ethan?”

He shook his head as her voice took him out of his reverie. Sometimes, Ethan lost himself in a dark place within his mind. He cleared his throat and turned his back on her, waving her away, “Go back to sleep.”

Even though he was her employer, hearing the torment in Ethan’s voice hurt Barbara in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

“I woke up and you weren’t in bed,” she said barely above a whisper, approaching him. She hugged his waist and laid her head on his back. “It’s late, my dear. Come back to bed.”

Sophia had been the sweetest pleasure he had ever tasted, but having had her and knowing she was now forbidden to him, worst still because of his own bad choices, was an agony beyond any wound he could receive.

As Ethan turned and crushed Barbara’s lips in a hot kiss, his last coherent thought was that he needed Sophia back in his life.

Chapter 18

Ells Hall.

Friday, April 2nd, 2010.

7.03 p.m.

The party dismounted and tethered their horses to trees in the clearing. The forest was bathed in the last rays of the sun. The sunset in that part of Northumberland was a sublime spectacle; the mist, the colors and the changing light were a wide field for Sophia’s romantic imaginings.

Everyone was carrying rifles, but Sophia. She had declined, as she had never shot before.

“This way, Sophia,” Alistair said in a low voice. “They usually appear near the stream.”

“Watch your step. It’s a bit slippery,” Lachlann murmured and immediately Alistair grabbed her hand.

They walked silently through the woods until they reached a good spot to observe the stream, a small hilltop just above it. Moments passed and a young deer appeared to drink.

Sophia peeked at Alistair.

He shook his head and murmured, “A halfling.”

A few minutes later, his stance changed abruptly, and he mouthed to Leonard that was a few feet away with Alice, “Mine.”

A striking buck had emerged from behind some trees. His antlers were rather opened and straight, with the fourth and fifth tines forming a crown giving him a regal aura. His hide glinted dark red under the last sun rays that peeked through the trees.

Alistair positioned his rifle until his hand curled around the stock. He placed his finger on the trigger and took aim.

Icy prickles danced up Sophia’s spine. She glanced over at the others, tendrils of wariness clinging to her like a vine, sweat running down her back in spite of the cool weather.

The stag lifted his head from the stream, proudly raising it to its full height, and looked directly at her, his black, almond shaped eyes so endearing, so lovely that her heart constricted in her chest and her throat closed.

It was pleading. It was begging her to spare his life.

A male voice shouted loudly in her mind, ‘Don’t lose hope, Sophia...’

Suddenly the sun set and she wasn’t in the woods anymore.

Brazil, Rio de Janeiro, Avenida Niemeyer.

Friday, February 29th, 2008.

2.56 a.m.

Light rain was falling.

Streetlights flashed quickly by as Gabriel drove them home from São Conrado to Ipanema in their Porsche Cayenne.

Sophia looked at the clock on the dashboard. Almost three in the morning.

It was late. She was tired but incredible happy. She took off her sandals and sighed.

Gabriel glanced at her and smiled, entwining his fingers with hers.

The bar-mitzvah had been cheerful and lively. They had danced the whole night long.

She put her head on the headrest and looked at the huge waves splashing on the rocks below.

The sky was dark; the waning moon nowhere to be seen.

She closed her eyes.

A very loud sound of brakes and crashing came in through the closed windows and a flash illuminated the night.

Abruptly, Gabriel released her hand.

The car swerved on the wet road and stopped.

Sophia opened her eyes, scared.

In front of them two black cars were blocking the road, six men all dressed in black armed with AR-15 rifles and .45 pistols stood outside.

Gabriel put the car in reverse, but before they could escape, he slammed on the brakes again.

Sophia looked back and her whole body froze. The car driven by their bodyguards had crashed against the rocky wall and was on fire. And two other black cars had appeared behind them, impeding their progress.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped.

More armed men got out of the cars.

Gabriel took both her hands in his and squeezed as he spoke quietly, looking into her eyes, “Don’t panic, Sophia.”

“Oh, Gabriel,” she heaved, her whole body filled with dread. “What are we going to do?”

“Don’t leave the car, Sophia. Don’t leave the car. Everything will be okay.”

The men advanced on the Cayenne, surrounded it and took aim.

Gabriel pressed the speaker and said, “I’ll leave the car in peace. Don’t shoot.”

“Please, don’t go. Please, Gabriel, please,” Sophia begged him in a scared whisper.

“The armor will never hold against that kind of ammunition, Sophia.” He opened the door slowly and got out of the car, arms raised.

The men crowded closer around the car and one of them holstered his gun, yanked her door open and ripped her out of the car, shouting for her to stay quiet. He dragged her behind him in the direction of the cars.

She freaked out and struggled.

The man turned and slapped her hard, splitting her lip.

Without thinking, she flung her knee high and hit the man squarely on the groin, sending him screaming away.

He cursed foul words and shot her.

Once.

Twice.

Three, four times.

The first bullet missed her, but the second hit the center of her left upper arm and she staggered to the side. The third one tore a few inches lower through the outside of the same arm, and she fell.

“Sophia!” Gabriel yelled and ran to her just to be held back by two huge men.

She fell on the pavement, clutching her bloodied arm. Another man pulled her up by the hair. She stood unsteadly and stumbled, dragging behind, but it didn’t stop his firm stroll to the cars.

“Please, don’t, please,” she screamed, pleading with him, but the kidnappers just laughed and sneered.

“Stop. Stop! You are making a mistake,” Gabriel shouted for them. “I’m worth more than she is! My ransom will be bigger.”

The guy dragging Sophia halted and turned slowly.

“She is already shot and will surely die without medical attention. You won’t receive a cent.”

The man looked at Gabriel and back to the others. “He’s right.”

“Take me instead,” Gabriel shouted again. “Release her.”

The criminals started a heated argument, but concluded that Gabriel’s alternative was better.

“No. Gabriel! No.”

Sophia was flung violently on the ground and the man kicked her ribs and middle calling her lewd names. She stayed down on the wet tarmac, crying and hugging her arm. “Gabriel, please! No!”

They started to haul Gabriel toward the two cars at the rear but he managed to free himself and rushed to Sophia’s side, dropping to the ground on his knees.

“I love you, I love you.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “You’re the best thing that happened in my whole life.”

Sophia grabbed his wet shirt, sobbing, imploring to him, “Don’t go with them, please. Let them take me.”

“Fucking ridiculous,” another man laughed and pulled Gabriel from Sophia.

“Help! Someone help us,” Sophia screamed and received another hard kick in the ribs.

“Don’t lose hope, Sophia,” Gabriel shouted as two men hauled him into a car and zoomed away as she struggled to crawl back to the Cayenne.

“Help!”

Sophia collapsed on the ground before she managed to reach the door. The rain increased and she watched as rivulets of her diluted blood ran down the sloping avenue.

Sobbing, Sophia embraced darkness, falling, falling in an endless abyss.

Ells Hall.

Friday, April 2nd, 2010.

7.17 p.m.

When Sophia opened her eyes again, she saw forest green eyes looking worriedly at her.

She heard someone crying and realized it was her. She was wet all over and she shivered in the chilly air.

She was gripping her left arm with so much force her nails were digging into the flesh. A soft delicate hand was drying the tears on her face. She looked around trying to make sense of where she was.

A beautiful red-haired woman with green eyes was kneeling beside her and she was in the arms of a dark-haired handsome man with the same green eyes. She knew she had said something, but couldn’t hear above the ringing sound in her ears.

A wet and cold handkerchief appeared in the hand of another man who crouched beside the woman and pressed it to the side of her head, above her ear.

That hurts. She winced. Gabriel! Where is Gabriel? I need to know.

She asked them, but they didn’t seem to understand what she had said. She tried again in English.

The man with green eyes asked her something, but she couldn’t hear him.

She shook her head and feeling dizzy, closed her eyes, resting her head on his broad, warm chest. Gabriel! I have to find Gabriel.

“Who brought the flashlights?” Leonard answered.

“They are in my backpack, Leonard.” Lachlann answered and Leonard immediately opened it and grabbed two flashlights.

Lachlann illuminated the side of Sophia’s head and examined her blood-matted hair.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I don’t think she’ll need many stitches. Three or four, probably. Let me get this cleaned.” He handed the flashlight to Alice and went to the stream to wash his handkerchief, returning with it soaking wet. He wrung it above the wound, letting the water wash the blood away and lightly wiped her head and then he noticed her shoulder was hurt too. He tried to clean the wound but stopped as Sophia moaned, “Don’t. It hurts.”

“What did she say?” Lachlann looked at Leonard.

“That it hurts. She is talking in Portuguese. It’s similar to Spanish. I can understand some but not everything.”

“Sophia,” Alice called, softly caressing her face. “Please, Sophia, talk to us.”

Sophia opened her eyes, but they were unfocused. She blinked a few times and the focus returned. She stared into Alistair’s eyes. “They took Gabriel.”

“Gabriela? No, Gabriela is safe,” Leonard said to her and looked at Alistair, concerned, “I think she hit her head hard. Talk to her. See if she recognizes you.”

They kept asking her questions, to no avail. She continued to speak in a mix of Portuguese, English and French and it was clear she didn’t recognize them.

“She doesn’t know where she is,” Lachlann pointed out. “She keeps clutching her arm. She must have wounded it too.” He gently tried to pry her fingers, but she shook her head, moaning, the movement making her dizzy.

“How did she fall?” Alice asked. “Did she slip?”

“I don’t know. I was watching the deer. When it ran away and I looked at her, she was falling to the ground and rolling down the hill. I didn’t have time to catch her. She must have fainted.”

Lachlann glanced at Alistair, concern marring his features. “We have to take her to a hospital.”

“No.” There was deep concern in Alistair’s eyes. His voice was firm, though. “Only if it’s strictly necessary. She hates hospitals. Leonard, call Tavish Uilleam. Inform him we’re coming back and we need medical help. I’ll ride with her on my lap.”

From far away, Sophia could hear voices and feel her body being handled and although she tried, she couldn’t reach them.

She was floating in a dark space where flaming pain coursed through her body and a freezing ache prickled her heart.

8.29 p.m.

Alistair strode into his bedroom, with an unconscious Sophia in his arms, Tavish hovering over his shoulder.

“Let me help,” Alice volunteered.

“Okay. Don’t lay her down yet. Alice, take off her shirt, please. I need to suture her wounds as quickly as possible.”

What? “There’s no need to take off her shirt, Alice,” Alistair scolded at his sister. “You can cut around the wound.”

Tavish grunted. “Alistair Connor, her clothes are wet and dirty. I need her clean to treat her wounds. If you don’t cooperate, you’ll have to leave.”

Alistair’s green gaze blazed flames at his brother. “I’m not going anywhere!”

Their stares clashed.

“Stop interfering. She’s in pain and you’re being an ass.” Tavish sighed. “Alistair Connor. I’m a doctor. I do not lust over unconscious, sick women however beautiful or hot they may be. And, fuck, she’s your girlfriend.”

Tavish Uilleam is right. You’re being an idiot, Alistair Connor. Alistair slowly nodded, “I’m sorry.”

Tavish barely acknowledged the apology, looking away from Sophia as Alice took her shirt off. “Does she have any allergies?”

“I don’t know!” Alistair nearly shouted, exasperated with his impotency.

“You’re not helping.” Tavish stared at his brother, irritated too.

Alistair raked a hand in his hair. “I don’t know. This is her scarred arm, though.”

Tavish turned and saw the white jagged scars. “Fucking hell! That must have hurt.” He approached the still sleeping Sophia, putting on gloves. “I called a friend of mine who is a psychiatrist. She has a country house near here, about one and a half hour away.” He prepared the medical supplies he would need beside him on the bedside table. “I’m worried. She shouldn’t sleep after a head injury like this. Have you seen a suture before, Alistair Connor?” Tavish studied him, seriously. “Can you stomach it?”

“I’m not leaving her,” he affirmed. He frowned as he saw what Tavish had in his first aid kit. “Morphine?! Why do you have morphine, Tavish Uilleam?”

“Are you going to question each and every step?” He didn’t raise his eyes from what he was doing. He quickly assessed Sophia and looked up at Alistair. “We have to take her to a hospital.”

“No. The wounds on her head and shoulder are minor. You can handle it. If she doesn’t regain cons-”

“Alistair Connor, she’s not a child, neither are you. She fainted, hit her head and is sleeping.”

Tavish crossed his brawny arms and fixed Alistair with a stern stare. “Even if she regains consciousness, I’m taking her to get an X-ray and MRI tomorrow morning. And that’s final.”

Alistair Connor, he is the doctor here. “All right, all right.”

Tavish uncrossed his arms and started to work.

The door opened after a soft knock and Gabriela entered the room.

Her eyes widened when she entered Alistair’s room. “Mama,” she cried, running to Sophia’s side. “Mama, wake up.”

Alice stepped in front of her and picking her up in her arms, hugged her, drawing the little girl’s face to her chest. “Don’t worry, dear. She just fell and is resting now.” She looked over Gabriela’s white blonde hair into Alistair’s eyes.

“Alistair.” Gabriela turned in Alice’s arms and said in whisper, “Kiss her.”

“I beg your pardon?” Alistair was flabbergasted at the suggestion.

“Kiss her, like in Sleeping Beauty.”

“Go on, kiss her. It can’t hurt,” Tavish coached, smiling.

“Please, Alistair. A kiss will break the spell,” Gabriela beamed, twinkles in her eyes.

Sophia felt a strangely familiar scent, vanilla mixed with oak and a warm masculine minted breath bathed her lips. A mouth pressed on hers and silky hair fell over her, tickling her face. Her fingers wandered up to touch it. Men shouldn’t have hair like that, only girls-

She broke the kiss and opened her eyes. “Alistair! Oh, God! Alistair Connor.”

Sophia pulled him down, burying her face in the hollow of his neck, as her eyes filled with tears, hugging his neck tightly.

He returned the embrace. “Gabriela is here,” he murmured for her ears only.

Instantly Sophia regained her composure, rubbing her tear stricken face on his sweater and shifting to look at her daughter.

Gabriela came closer.

“Oh, my love,” Sophia whispered, struggling to keep her emotions under control.

“You see, Mama, he broke the spell. He is your Prince Charming,” said the little girl, sitting down on the edge of the bed and bending down to kiss her mother.

She smiled at the little girl. “Yes, he is.”

“I knew it,” she beamed at the couple.

“Time to sleep, little angel,” Alice said, “I betAriadne is waiting for you.”

Sophia kissed the little girl again and plastered a smile on her face until Gabriela was out of the room with Alice, who kept looking back at her.

When the door closed behind them, Alistair gushed out, “Christ, Sophia, you scared us all.”

“What happened?” Tavish brought a chair close to the bed.

She looked at them. “The deer,” she bit her lip, “his eyes. When I looked into his eyes...” She shook her head and put a hand on her temple, feeling the bandage over the stitches.

“You hit your head, Beauty. Don’t make sharp movements.” Alistair kissed her forehead.

“I’m giving Frankenstein a run for his money.” Sophia attempted a joke, but broke down sobbing. “I remembered.”

She began to tremble.

At first, tiny quakes shuddered her body, but then she started to shake in earnest and Alistair’s chest tightened. He hugged her.

“They wanted me, not Gabriel. Me! I was too afraid to obey their orders. Gabriel gave himself up in my place.” Her voice came out broken by her crying, her lean body shaking with heartbroken sobs. What have I done? I killed him. If not for me, he would still be alive.

“Hush, Beauty. Do you think Gabriel would have let them take you?” He buried his face in her hair as the despair in her voice sliced his heart. “Shhh. Don’t cry.”

“I killed him, Alistair. I don’t deserve to be alive.”

Tavish gasped shocked, “Sophia, you don’t know what you are saying.”

“You did not kill him. It was a tragic accident. A poorly handled kidnapping,” Alistair tried to soothe her.

“No,” she sobbed. “It was a series of events caused by my actions. I’m to blame. I didn’t surrender, I fought back. I let him go in my place, I let myself be drugged and I let his father control the negotiations. My fault. My fault.” Sophia was almost hysterical.

Alistair looked at Tavish, “Give her something.”

“No. I don’t want anything. It’s not fair on him. Not fair,” she said incoherently. “What I did... Wrong, so wrong.” Sophia’s adrenaline spiked. She fought Alistair’s embrace and got up from the other side of the bed. She swayed as the room spun around her.

Tavish jumped from the chair to steady her, but she shoved his hands away and walked to the bathroom.

“Fuck.” Immediately, Alistair rose from the bed, ordering, “Tavish Uilleam. Give her something. Something strong.”

Tavish looked at his brother and raked his fingers in his hair. “I can give her a Valium. But she already has low blood pressure. Barbiturates or benzodiazepines-”

“Speak English,” Alistair interrupted. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Stronger sedatives can increase the risk of the more serious side effects of a low blood pressure. What she needs is time. Time to understand and let it all settle.” He shook his head as he walked to the door. “You can’t just magically solve problems with medicine. Sometimes you just have to trust time, patience and a lot of understanding to do the trick.”

Alistair sighed and followed Sophia into the bathroom.

“He was my husband!” Sophia never felt so much pain. For her, she had been the real cause of Gabriel’s death and it was more than she could bear. “You don’t get it!”

“There’s nothing you can do, Sophia. It wasn’t your fault,” Alistair said.

“It was. Maybe I didn’t pull the trigger, but what I did...” Sophia turned her head to the wall as if trying to bury herself in it. “I turned the gun onto him.” Her loss and her secret weighed on her making her pain and regret even more unbearable. She broke down, wailing.

Alistair had seen her cry before, but it had been nothing like this.

Sophia wasn’t rational. Any coherence had disappeared into an otherworldly oblivion of pain, raw and primal. He carefully pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried.

Sophia bit her fist, trying to stifle the hurtful sobs, but nothing could muffle the painful sounds that left her body.

“Sophia,” Alistair sighed. He looked away for a moment, his throat convulsing. When his eyes came back to meet hers, Sophia was shocked by the amount of tormented ache that swam inside his green eyes. It was as if his eyes mirrored all the hurt she was feeling inside. “My love. Please don’t cry.”

And it wasn’t only in his eyes. Alistair’s voice was leaden with pain, too.

“I know this is hard. Believe me when I say I understand. One day, you’re going to realize that it wasn’t your fault. Remember the facts. Even if you hadn’t reacted, even if you hadn’t been shot, do you think Gabriel would have let them take you? Do you think the man who loved you that much wouldn’t do everything in his power to convince them to take him instead? You couldn’t have prevented that.”

Alistair just held her, feeling as if he were going to break too. His hands ran over her back until she let out a last shuddering breath.

“Alistair Connor.” She managed to grimace. “I hate it when you are so reasonable.”

“Do you really?” He looked at her, content that she had stop crying. “I would have done the same thing, if I’d been in Gabriel’s place. I-”

A knock on the door interrupted Alistair. “Come in,” he ordered and looked over his shoulder to see his brother accompanied by a short, plump, blonde woman casually dressed.

“Sophia, this is my friend, Doctor Evelyne Richardson. She’s a psychiatrist. I explained to her what happened. I think it would be advisable if you talk to her a bit. Would you?”

Sophia instantly took a liking to the gentle woman, “Yes.”

As they moved into the bedroom, Evelyne took a seat in one of the armchairs by the enormous four poster bed. “Hmm. This is what I call dramatic surroundings. Good for a seducing vampire.”

Sophia’s little chuckle tinkled in the room mingling with Tavish’s low laughter.

Such imagination these women have. Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward as they walked out to wait in the adjoining sitting room.

10.34 p.m.

Evelyne rose from the armchair and looked at Alistair, “Please, don’t forget to give her the anti-inflammatory.”

“Be careful tomorrow in the bath. Her stitches can’t get wet. You can wake me up if she needs anything. And, lass,” Tavish turned to Sophia and kissed her on the forehead, “I want you to rest. Have a lie in till lunchtime. In the afternoon I’ll take you to get your X-ray and MRI.”

Sophia’s lips curled up at the other domineering brother and she gave him a military salute, “Yes, sir.”

Tavish smiled at her and accompanied Evelyne out of the room.

Alistair fluffed the pillow that supported her arm and adjusted another to make her more comfortable.

“Feeling better?” he asked as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Yes,” Sophia gave him half a smile that lifted his heart.

“Good. I’ll be right back, mo chridhe. Don’t move from here.” Alistair kissed the top of her head and left his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Sophia sighed and looked at the black and gold canopy. She was already feeling relieved. Lighter. She didn’t know if it were the drugs or the talk she’d had with Evelyne. Tavish’s friend was an accomplished psychoanalyst and had greatly eased Sophia’s burden.

“You, Tavish, of all people, should understand how this is not an easy task,” Evelyne frowned at Tavish.

Tavish hung his head, squeezing his eyes in pain, “I know, Evelyne. But unless she let it go, she won’t be able to rebuild her life. You know this better than I do.”

The doctor sighed and put a hand on Tavish’s shoulder. “I do, Tavish, believe me. But I also know how much it hurts and how long it takes to overcome something like what she has been through.”

Evelyne turned to look at Alistair as he came out of the room. “I strongly advise that she calls her therapist as soon as she can.”

“I’ll make sure she does,” he agreed.

“This is absolutely amazing, Sophia. Look,” Alistair’s green eyes were fixed on the rough sea darkened by the thunderous weather. The breaking waves were crashing on the rocks below the road with such force that the water splashed up and soaked the asphalt.

Sophia looked up from her iPhone and gasped. She scooted to the edge of the seat and pushed the intercom to order her driver, “Antônio. Not this way.”

Again and again she repeated the command. But it was useless. The car kept going and the salty sea water started to rise and flood the road.

Sophia pressed down a button and the glass partition came down silently. “Antônio. Turn back, please. You know I don’t like taking this road.”

Sophia screamed soundlessly.

There were two dark-red men on the front seat, wearing all black. Their left hands were missing their ring fingers and they were laughing madly. Although their bodies stiffly faced forwards, their heads gyrated on their necks. Both had the face of the only kidnapper that wasn’t killed. Their eyes were completely black and horns protruded from their foreheads. In unison, they opened their mouths full of sharp teeth and said, “I’ve come back for you, you husband-killer.”

Sophia closed her eyes as they lifted theirs guns. They shot at her four times, but she felt no pain.

She opened her eyes.

The men were smiling happily, gazing at the seat next to her.

Sophia looked too.

Alistair’s green eyes were wide open and his mouth was slack. From four open wounds on his chest, a viscous dark blood poured out like lava from an eruption.

This time, Sophia’s scream came out, loud.

Saturday, April 3rd, 2010.

6.33 a.m.

“Alistair!” Sophia screamed and thrashed in his arms. “NO! NO!”

“Jesus Christ!” Alistair tightened his arms around her, waking up startled. “Easy, easy. You’re safe, Sophia. Everything’s alright; everything’s alright.”

His deep voice entered the haze of pain that was tearing her heart apart and Sophia blinked away the red acrid fog from her eyes, taking in Alistair’s black and golden bedroom as he turned on the bedside lamp. She heaved for air and threw her healthy arm around his neck, hugging him tightly. She buried her face on his chest as her tears soaked his T-shirt and she sobbed, “Oh, Alistair. Oh, Alistair, thank God.”

“Christ, mo chridhe.” He sat on the bed with her in his arms, dipping his face in her hair. Roses and oranges and vanilla. He wished he could stay there forever.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said as she hiccuped softly. She wiped her face. “I’m not like this.”

Alistair smoothed his hand over her hair. “You had a fright. A nice, hot bath will make you feel better. Wait here.”

“Let’s get you out of those clothes,” Alistair said, coming out of the bathroom. “Your bath is ready.”

Alistair helped her out of her nightie and underwear. “Come on, sweetheart.” Alistair stood up with her in his arms and carried her into the bathroom, setting her gently down into the steaming water.

She hissed as the water hit her tense body.

Fuck. “I’m sorry, mo chridhe,” he whispered. “It’ll get better.”

“No, it’s okay. You were right. This is wonderful.” She gingerly leaned back and closed her eyes.

“Do you hurt?” Alistair knelt beside the tub.

“All over,” Sophia said wryly as she rubbed her right hand over her heart.

“Scoot forward. Let me wash your back,” Alistair murmured, while she pined her hair on top of her head.

Let go, Sophia. Gabriel won’t come back. There’s nothing you can do. Sophia bit her bottom lip for a second and then drew her knees up and rested her chin on them. “I must say, you make a wonderful nurse.”

His lips curled up, “I never thought a woman would say that to me.”

“Alistair Connor...” Sophia sighed. “I don’t want this to ruin Alice’s birthday.”

“For Christ’s sake, Sophia!” He reined in his impatience. Fuck, Sophia, be a bit selfish.

“No. I mean it.” She raised her head, but couldn’t turn it from the stiffness in her muscles. “Please? Promise me you aren’t going to stay with me in your bedroom all day.”

“We’ll see,” he muttered. “Lean back. Careful...” He placed a towel on the edge of the tub, making her rest her head on it and grabbed the sponge again. “Now, let me finish this.”

Oh. No. That’s enough. “No way, nurse MacCraig. Out with you.” She shooed him away with an elegant flick of her hand. “I’ll finish this. Give me five minutes. I’ll call if I need you.”

He smiled amazed at her blushing cheeks. “You’re not embarrassed, are you?”

I am. She blushed and threw drops of water on him. “Out. Before I splash you.”

Stubborn woman. He stifled an aggravated grunt and walked to the dressing room, taking off his pajamas and returning to the bathroom.

Sophia’s eyes were closed, her head resting against the towel on the rim of the tub. She seemed so small and fragile to him that his irritation ebbed away. He silently stepped into the tub.

Sophia gasped and opened her eyes as a shallow wave of water washed over her breasts. She gapped at Alistair, “What-”

He sank down into the water and picked her up in his arms, gently swirling her around and settling her between his strong legs, her back against his chest. “If you don’t see me, you won’t be shy. I want to take care of you, sweetheart.”

His chest rose and fell in an even rhythm under her back, while his hands affectionately roamed over her body, cleaning her, washing away her shyness.

With her head on his shoulder, she stated, more than asked, “Nurse MacCraig, do you always have your way?”

Lovingly, he smiled at her and whispered, “Always, Beauty. Always.”

Chapter 19

Sunday, April 4th, 2010.

1.30 p.m.

Above Sophia’s head, on a branch of one of the ancient oaks that graced the backyard of Ells Hall, a bird chirped and flew to the ground. She kept very still on the bench and it came closer eating small crumbs of bread Gabriela and Ariadne were throwing.

Alistair’s arrival scared it and the bird fluttered away.

“My favorite lasses,” he grinned and dropped to his haunches to kiss Gabriela and Ariadne on the cheek and sat next to Sophia, kissing her lips. “Girls, Maria is going to take you riding later. Your mother can’t go today, Gabriela.”

“That’s okay.”

Ariadne jumped down from the bench, “Let’s call Michael to come play.”

Gabriela joined Ariadne, their laughter filling the air as they threw crumbs to the birds on their way back to the manor.

He smiled at the girls’ carefree happiness and turned to Sophia examining her face. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” she gave him a little smile. “Tavish Uilleam gave me something stronger this morning to help with the pain. I barely feel a thing.”

“Good,” he took her hand and stood up, motioning to the basket he had put on the ground. “Come on. I’ve brought lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“Aye. A picnic. Just the two of us today.”

“Are the kids are going to be all right?”

“Sure, they’ll be fine. Besides, Ariadne knows Ells Hall like the back of her hand and Maria is waiting for them.”

Sophia looked at the girls skipping happily together and at Alistair, “If you’re sure...”

“I am. Come on.”

Alistair took Sophia to his favorite spot. The grass was smooth at this time of the year, and he set everything up under the old oak he liked to climb when he was a kid. A luscious carpet of bluebells was laid out in front of them.

“This is so beautiful. Really amazing,” she said, turning around and gazing at the view. “I have never seen such a... Beautiful is too mundane a word for it. It’s otherworldly. Just... Unbelievable.”

“This is my secret place. I’ve never brought anyone here before,” he said quietly. He knew she would love that spot as much as he did. “You are the first, in thirty-five years.” He stood there looking at her for a long time before lowering his head to kiss her slowly and gently, letting his passion kindle their fire little by little. When he broke the kiss they were panting. He breathed on her hair. “One day, I will make love to you here.”

Naughty man! “You’re always planning weird things,” she smiled and shook her head at him. “In the open?” I will think about it.

He chuckled wickedly as he spread a big blanket on the grass. The sweet smell of the flowers surrounded them.

“Let me help,” she said as they sat on the blanket and he started to take the food out of the basket.

“Nae, I can do it.” The intense happiness he’d been feeling these last months was due to her presence, the way she made him laugh, the way he burned for her. He’d tried to tell himself once that it was just potent lust, that it would fade in time, but now he knew that wasn’t true. Alistair knew he would never have enough of Sophia. He, who had thought love was a dead emotion for him, had discovered that Sophia could awaken it inside him, like a phoenix arising from the ashes of his black soul. What Heather had killed, she had resurrected and made flourish, even when he had tried to smother it.

Her laugh tinkled under the canopy of the woodland trees startling him from his reverie. She stared at the blanket where he was laying out some bread, cheese, foie gras, Pata negra ham and many other things he kept taking out of the basket. “How many people are you going to feed today?”

He wanted everything to be perfect. He felt himself blushing. And this is ridiculous. I don’t blush. “Just the two of us. We can eat what we like. I will take the rest back to the house.”

He took a chilled bottle of champagne from the basket.

“Hmm, champagne. And a 1928 Krug.” She smiled mischievously at him. “You must want something.”

“I’ll always want something with you, Beauty. Always,” he retorted as he sat by her side on the blanket and dropped his head to kiss her.

Sophia was lying on the blanket smiling dreamily at the way the soft breeze tousled the leaves, almost dozing. It was one of the most enjoyable lunches they’d ever shared. Her view was suddenly replaced by Alistair’s smiling face, his emerald green eyes reflecting the happiness she felt.

“What?” she lazily asked. Sunlight shone through the leaves and danced on Alistair’s hair, making it sparkle with midnight blue strands, creating a startling contrast with his lightly tanned skin and green eyes, enthralling her more than anything else.

“What did you find in the sky that put that dreamy look on your face?” he smiled.

“You,” she answered. “This idilic place. Everything.”

The wildlife surrounding her made her feel romantic. She looked into his smiling eyes and whispered, “In spite of everything that’s happened, sometimes I feel like I’m dreaming.” She combed his bangs with her fingers and rested her palm on his cheek, “Am I?”

“I don’t know.” His smile widened. “What is your dream about?”

“Uh,” she said coyly, “if you don’t know, I can’t tell you.”

“Do you want to know what I dream about?” As she nodded, he continued, “I dream about you, about us and about us three, Gabriela, you and I. I dream about spending my whole life with you.” He inhaled profoundly and launched, “Sophia, will you marry me?”

What? Time stood still. Her mouth opened, but no sound came. She was astounded.

“Marry me. I will be the happiest man in the world.”

“But... I-I-” she stuttered and sucked in air. “We’ve only been together a few weeks. Don’t you think it’s too soon to talk about this?”

“Time is too valuable, Beauty. I realized it when Nathalie died and I thought I had lost everything. We live in a countdown. We can’t afford to waste a second, Sophia.” His face fell. “I didn’t think you would mind the short time we’ve been together. You married-” He interrupted himself and fell silent as evil thoughts churned in his mind. He sat with his back to her. She will say no. She wants kids that I can’t possibly give her. I’m much older than her. Fuck! But what is she thinking? It’s not every day she will find a man like me.

She understood his half finished sentence. “I was young. I didn’t have Gabriela then. I had nothing to lose. I... Gabriel was already thirty. We... I...” She shook her head. He is right. I didn’t mind marrying Gabriel only six months after we’d started going out and I was madly happy with him.

“Alistair Connor. Please look at me,” Sophia whispered and touched his back. He turned to look at her over his shoulder. She licked her lips and bit the lower one. Say it, Sophia.

Alistair watched her mouth, entranced by its erotic movements. How he longed to feel them moving over his body, kissing him, licking him, sucking him. She had the power to be his salvation and he was proposing to her. Willingly, after he thought he would never marry again. “I’m already thirty-five. We have both been married. It would just be a formality.” Ach! Alistair Connor MacCraig! Just a formality?

But it seemed the perfect arrangement for him. This way his craving to have her in his bed every night, at his table every morning, and in his arms whenever he wanted would be satisfied. His eyes roamed over her. He longed to run his tongue over her collarbone, kissing his way to her supple breasts and make love to her under the old oak.

Alistair scowled down at his erection. Control yourself, cock. I’m proposing here. He curled his fingers under her chin, making her look into his eyes and started again.

“Sophia. I love you.” He kissed her lips and whispered, “No one can make me happier than you do. I know I will never find someone I love as much as you. And Gabriela... I would care for her and love her as if she were my own daughter.” He sighed. “You. You are my soul mate. Our marriage was plotted by the angels in Heaven the day we met.”

Oh, my. She gaped at him and quickly looked away toward the bluebell carpet, making a huge effort not to grab onto him and believe in everything he was saying, words that were so beautiful and so amazing, if only they could always be true. She played with the edge of the blanket and watched the sun play hide and seek in his hair as she thought about the last few months.

Sophia knew Alistair was beyond amazing as a lover, sometimes wild and animalistic, other times tender and reverent. He was clever and intelligent. He had a unique and strange sense of honor, sometimes a bit possessive, but, nonetheless, he was a man of principles and morals. And he clearly loved Gabriela. But does he love me enough to live with my ghosts? Do I love him enough to live with his?

“Sophia?” he beckoned quietly with a light caress under her chin.

Every fiber in Alistair’s body and mind commanded him to kiss her, to devour her. But he didn’t want her response to be clouded by lust. He held his breath, his heart beating so fast that he could hear the pounding in his ears, and waited.

“Alistair Connor, I-” Sophia, your name means wisdom. Be wise, at least once and ponder. No, Sophia, be selfish and accept. She shooed the thoughts away and with a bleeding heart, breathed, “No.”

He was caught unawares by the short word. Alistair clamped his lips shut to stop the gasp that surely would have escaped, as a sharp pain jabbed his gut.

She has said... nae? NAE? “Nae?” he repeated in disbelief. It would appear that God has not finished punishing me. For in you, Sophia, I have found my salvation and my damnation.

Sophia shook her head slowly and lowered her eyelids; she couldn’t bear the pained and surprised look on his face.

Alistair swallowed hard. Unconsciously he drew himself up, straighter, taller, colder, bracing himself for the next blow. His face assumed a nonchalant look.

Dammit! “No, I’m not rejecting you,” she whispered. The tightness in her throat was overwhelming, making it almost impossible to swallow or breathe. She smoothed out her skirt, trying to smooth away the dread that was accumulating inside her. “I like your company. I appreciate your way of living and thinking, even though we are still getting to know each other. I care for you. Very much.” I... I love you, I do, but I’m afraid. There’s too much to consider, too many changes, too many secrets. Not enough time together. She was feeling confused from all the considerations swarming her mind. She inhaled slowly and traced his commitment ring. “It’s just that... I need some time to think about it.” Sophia, you are so stupid. You should have said yes from the beginning. She enlaced her fingers with his and looked up to stare in his eyes. The green was almost gone, but his face was expressionless. “Please, don’t be angry,” she asked softly. “Please?”

“I’m not angry, I’m hurt. But I will wait, Sophia. And you will say yes. I know you will. You will be my wife,” Alistair nodded. They were silent for a while and then Alistair spoke, changing subjects. “The vet told me Avenger is nervous,” he said absentmindedly, as he twirled a lock of her hair around his finger.

“Why? What happened?” She almost thanked him for the new topic.

He made a supreme effort and a small smile appeared on his lips. “I think your horse misses you.”

Sophia paired his effort and a small smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Why did you gave him to me?”

“Don’t you like him?”

“On the contrary. I love him and I love his name. Just curious.”

I see... You love a horse but you don’t love me. You’ll say it, Sophia! You will. “You know... He reminded me of a woman I admire very much.”

Me? “But he is male.” Please, say it’s me.

His smile darkened and naughtiness shimmered on his eyes. “So?” he shrugged. “Do you want to change horses?”

Why? She frowned inwards. It’s not me? “No, of course not,” she answered. “Forget about it.”

He laughed quietly and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Great. Because this woman once told me, and I quote, no one, no one harms what is mine and stays unpunished. Do you know-”

He laughed as she tackled him to the ground and crawled over his body.

“Mocking me, my lord?” she asked from above him as she dipped her fingers in his hair. Her laughing face took on a gentle look. “Alistair Connor?”

“Hmm?” His hand lifted to caress her bruised face and his thumb drew the contour of her mouth. There was a sadness in his eyes that didn’t deny the disappointment he was felling at her refusal. Please, don’t try to justify the unjustifiable. I don’t want your pity. I want your love.

“I-” God, Sophia! Can’t you see he is hurting? That you are hurting him? “I’ll think carefully about your proposal.” Damn! Are you considering a business transaction? “Ah, I mean-”

His thumb on her lips stopped her lame excuses and he pulled her head down for a tender kiss, not wanting to know whatever reasons she had to say no to him. There are words better unheard, better unsaid, Sophia.

Sophia kissed him back.

Alistair didn’t know why but the kiss had a sour taste of good-bye.

Niarchos Angepopoulos’s house, on the beach.

Sunday, June 18th, 1989.

1 p.m.

Ethan dragged himself to the sand and sat there, the gentle waves caressing him like they wanted to soothe the deep pain inside his heart. He took off his socks. His shoes had been lost during his crazed swimming. He looked down at his feet and curled his toes into the sand.

Niarchos sat quietly beside him, not caring that his expensive clothes were getting wet. “Ethan.”

Ethan didn’t think he had any strength left. However, he looked up, faced his grandfather and whispered, “Why, Grandpa?”

“Because you needed it. But I didn’t want you to find out like this. You weren’t supposed to find out at all.” Niarchos felt as if he were a hundred and forty years old instead of seventy. He put his hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “I don’t regret my actions, my son. I understand that you are angry with me. However... I would have done it again. I love you, Ethan. My love demands that I do everything in my power to see you happy and healthy. No matter how, no matter the cost.”

Damn you, Grandpa. Ethan rested his chin on his knees and sighed deeply.

“One day you will understand that I couldn’t stand by and see you wasting away anymore. You were hurting. I had to do something.”

Ethan didn’t answer. He knew his grandfather’s words made sense, if analyzed with cold detachment, but his deception and his hurt were too great to let him forgive so easily.

Niarchos Angepopoulos stood up and watched as Ethan gazed unseeingly toward the horizon. He closed his heart to his grandson’s pain. He never doubted the correctness of his own ways.

“It is hurting now and I know you don’t understand, but... one day you will thank me, Ethan. One day you will learn that we have to protect those we love. No matter the cost.”

Niarchos turned and walked back to the house reasoning that sometimes suffering forged a better man. He was powerful and rich, because life had taught him that pity and gentleness brought only betrayal.

Niarchos smiled. That minor incident would teach Ethan how to be a stronger man. Now Ethan would be ready to take on the world.

Ells Hall.

Monday, April 5th, 2010.

10.15 a.m.

Sophia woke up feeling very dizzy. Gingerly, she propped herself up and groaned softly at her still hurting shoulder and throbbing head.

She slid off the bed and crossed the room unsteadily to the dressing room looking for the pills Tavish had given her. Grabbing a bottle of water from the small fridge, she gulped down two pills.

She entered the bathroom and washed her face. She scowled at her black-and-blue reflection in the mirror as she brushed her teeth and hair. God, Sophia. You look terrible.

She gingerly changed into a comfortable dress and slipped on a pair of pumps.

Sophia packed her small suitcase. She knew Alistair wanted to go back after tea and she didn’t want him to think she was an invalid. He had been treating her as if she would break at any moment. Sophia’s lips curled in amazement as she closed her carry-on.

She straightened and walked a few paces before dizziness hit her hard. Her arm jutted out sideways and she breathed deep, waiting for the spinning sensation to pass.

Damned drugs. She cursed herself for giving in so easily and taking the sedative Alistair had asked Tavish in the early hours of the morning when she was feeling restless and in pain. Idiot. And you just took more codeine now. Great, Sophia. Just great.

Carefully, she released the door she’d used to steady herself and her hand brushed the key and it opened as the lock unfastened.

She blinked twice and approached the neatly organized shelves with numerous sex toys. She had never been to a sex shop, but she was sure she was looking at an impressive array of stock.

She picked up a box that said: Menage à trois for two. She giggled nervously. What the hell? A threesome for two? She turned the box in her hand and gapped at the photograph illustrating the back cover. Hmm. Creative.

For once Sophia didn’t really know what to do. Should I close this door and not mention it or... Or what, Sophia? She laughed. Or should I call him up here and ask him to show me what these things do?

She slowly pulled the next door and this time her gasp was shocked. Sophia paled.

Surely, this is some bad joke. She closed her eyes. When she opened them the closet was still there. And the metal handcuffs, floggers, and other things she couldn’t name. This is a... What? She picked up her iPhone and photographed the contents.

Sophia carefully closed and locked both doors and went down to have her breakfast with a nasty feeling in her stomach.

Somewhere over England.

In Alistair MacCraig’s G650 on the way back to London.

7.25 p.m.

Sophia was driving Alistair mad.

What power had goaded me into declaring my hand so early? I should have waited. We were practically living together. He shook his head at himself. It was sheer madness.

Yet he could feel the urge to conquer, to seize and to hold her forever, flaring even now, simply at the thought of her answer. And what was really nagging him was the cold civility she had wrapped around her since breakfast. She was keeping him at bay. He was sure he would go insane before the end of the day, if she didn’t revert to her usual self. She had pleaded a bad headache and a painful shoulder before they took off, had taken a painkiller and retreated to the stateroom. He knew better. Sophia was not a complainer despite Tavish telling him that she could have been feeling pain.

He looked at the beautiful sunset and sighed. The conversation was flowing around him, but he was barely paying attention. He’d already given a completely idiotic answer to something Leonard had asked and received a knowing glance from his brother-in-law.

He sighed again, excused himself, made a cup of tea at the bar and went to the back, knocking softly on the stateroom door. As no answer came, he pushed the door and quietly entered the shaded room, placing the cup in the round indentation of the table by the sofa. Many thoughts crossed his mind as he sat on the bed and studied Sophia’s sleeping face.

What happened, Sophia? He was wary. Maybe she doesn’t like that I’ve been acting like a tyrant since she fainted.

His fingers toyed with her long raven locks. Sophia stirred and started to stretch her body and her neck, only to stop abruptly at the pain in her shoulder when she moved her left arm.

“Careful...” he murmured and helped her up to a sitting position. “How are you feeling?”

She didn’t look at his face and her smile was contained. “Better. Thank you.”

Alistair’s heart clenched. His selfishness now was limited to just one point: he wanted her to need him, want him, love him. No woman in his life had ever cared for him just because he was Alistair Connor. They wanted his position, his beauty, his sex-drive and his money. But not Sophia. He knew she liked and cared for him. He didn’t understand what had changed so suddenly.

Alistair was a very proud man, but not enough to pretend that Sophia loved him the way he needed her to.

He tried a joke to soften the tension. “Were you planning to ignore me the entire flight, you stubborn woman?”

“Sorry,” Sophia murmured, realizing she had no will to ignore him. Not at all. But something inside her was insisting that she needed to understand what she had discovered.

“Do you feel better? Can I open the shades?” He touched the button to open them as she nodded. He pointed to the table by the sofa. “I brought you some tea.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and when she started to sit, Alistair’s arms immediately went around her to help her out of bed.

“I’m not going to break, you know? I’m a tough gal,” she smiled at his tender and mindful embrace.

“I know. But I like to take care of you,” he said softly, almost sadly, helping her onto the sofa and handing her the teacup.

Oh, Alistair Connor. You are breaking my heart with this sadness. What am I going to do with you? Sophia forgot about drinking her tea. Absentminded, she put the cup back on the table, staring deep into his beautiful eyes, struggling to piece that complex man together with what she had seen in his dressing room. She inhaled. His sweet vanilla scent and his familiar face clouded her senses, taking away the cold she was feeling inside since the morning.

“You are beautiful, Sophia,” he also hadn’t taken his eyes off her face and didn’t resist her parted lips, kissing her tenderly.

She almost felt like crying with the sweet tenderness of his kiss.

He cupped her face in his big hands as he rested his forehead on hers, whispering, “I love you, Sophia. Please, don’t make me wait too long.”

Atwood House, Gabriela’s bedroom.

8.25 p.m.

Alistair laid down a sleeping Gabriela on her bed and gently batted Sophia’s hand away from the coverlet, “Leave this to me.” He tugged it around the child’s small body and bent to kiss her blonde head, murmuring, “Sweet dreams, Fairy.”

They walked quietly out of the room.

Alistair hesitated in the TV room. A gut feeling told him he was not going to be invited to sleep over. “I will see myself out,” he said. “There is no need to go down with me.”

Sophia’s hand shot out to hold his.

He stopped and a light illuminated his face.

“Have dinner with me. A quick snack. I mean... If you feel-”

He stepped in her direction and rested her head on his chest, burying his nose in her hair, “Thank you.”

Sophia startled at the intensity of the feelings he put in those two words. Oh, God. What am I doing to this fierce man?

10.50 p.m.

“Good night, then.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave a little peek on his lips.

Alistair paused a moment on the threshold. “Sophia... Take your time. Think about it, please,” Alistair said in a small voice. “I don’t mind waiting for as long as it takes-”

She put a finger on his lips. “I’ll think about it. Good night. Sleep well, my dear.” She waved him good-bye and walked inside the house as Zareb closed the double doors.

Alistair closed the car door and touched the intercom, “Garrick, my place. Then pick up Tavish Uilleam at Alice’s house and take him home.”

“Yes, sir.” Garrick didn’t like his boss’s dispirited voice. Not at all. He was going to make sure that his brother knew what was happening. He decided he was not going to take Alistair home. Instead, without Alistair noticing, Garrick texted Tavish and drove over to Alice’s first.

Sophia turned to Zareb as he closed the gates. “I’ll be going out in the Mercedes in... ten minutes, I believe.”

Zareb’s eyes widened and he looked at her and back to her face. “Mrs. Leibowitz, you are not fit to drive-”

“I don’t want to disturb Steven. He is probably sleeping by now. Then, please, call me a taxi. I’m not going far.”

Zareb stiffened, clearly offended, and towered over her. His usual smiling face was stern. “Mrs. Leibowitz, I’m sorry. You are not going anywhere, driving or in a taxi. It’s not safe. You shouldn’t be alone. I will call Steven and we are taking you wherever you need.”

Sophia bit her lip. She knew Zareb was right.

However she doubted she had the courage to ask her driver and bodyguard to take her to a sex shop.

Chapter 20

Alistair MacCraig’s Apartment.

11.14 p.m.

And with that, the stubborn, unmanageable woman waved me good-bye and walked inside. It seems ages ago. I need her back. I want to be back at her house. I want to rip off her clothes and fuck her until she knows - and I know - she’s still mine. Only mine. Alistair pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind. He couldn’t allow his desire to rule his actions. Not now.

She was so pale and I’m sure it wasn’t only from the pain. He worried about what had happened; everything had been going so smoothly. She said she needed time to think, right, but then... Fuck! Stop thinking about the past and get on with some plan to make her realize you are the one for her.

“Alistair Connor? Is everything all right?” Tavish cocked his head. Alistair hadn’t uttered a single word on the ride over. When Tavish asked if he needed company Alistair just nodded vaguely.

Alistair didn’t even hear his brother’s question.

“Alistair Connor.” Tavish’s call came to him through a haze of confusion, passion and fear, all mixed together. “Alistair Connor! Snap out of it! What are you staring at?”

“The...” Awkwardly, Alistair cleared his throat and helplessly glanced around. “The paintings.”

Tavish looked at him through squinted eyes.

“What?” He looked at his whisky and noticed that he hadn’t drunk it. He gulped it down in a single toss.

“I can never remember, are the pupils larger when someone’s drunk or smaller?”

“Drunk? I am not drunk!”

“Then you’re on drugs. You’re staring at the fucking paintings like you’re aroused.” He rose a mocking eyebrow. “At least I hope you’re on something, otherwise we have bigger problems than I thought.”

Alistair didn’t feel like answering. He felt like brooding. He stood up and paced the room.

Tavish sat down, resting his face on his palm, and observed his brother as he raked a hand through his long hair. He understood that jokes weren’t going to make Alistair talk.

“All right. Spill, Alistair Connor. You look even more worried now than you did on the plane.”

“I am,” he agreed, grabbing the bottle of whisky. He kicked Tavish out of his favorite armchair and slouched in it. “I’m an asshole, Tavish Uilleam.”

“Oh, man. This is new.” Tavish laughed. “I never thought I’d agree with you a hundred percent.” Tavish sat in front of Alistair. “You are, Alistair Connor. You’re a huge asshole.”

“Shut up. It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it then,” he chuckled.

“I think I lost her.” The words left Alistair’s mouth without permission.

“Jesus!” Tavish sat upright on the armchair. “How?”

I don’t know. And if my suspicions are right I can’t tell you. “And you know what’s worse... I... truly don’t know why. I’m afraid, Tavish Uilleam.” He suddenly understood his loss, deeply, and it squeezed the air from his chest. There was a scared look in his eyes that would surprise those who saw only the hard, blunt surface that he showed the world.

“Why?”

“She’s driving me mad. She is cold and barely civil with me-”

“You are talking about Sophia, right? Your Sophia? Cold? Uncivil?” Tavish shook his head. “Impossible, she’s a dear.”

“Oh, aye, she is. A dear, an angel, a beauty, a goddess. Everything. Anything.” He ran a hand over his face, gulped down his whisky. “I proposed,” he sighed deeply, “and she refused.”

To his credit, Tavish did not swear, nor did he laugh. He merely stared at Alistair as if he had just announced that the world would end in the next minute.

“I beg your pardon?” Tavish was speechless, confused by Alistair’s action and Sophia’s response. “What happened? From the beginning, please.”

“That’s not so bad, is it? Asking for time to think?” Alistair asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m in love with her, Tavish Uilleam. Crazy in love. Insanely in love.”

“As if she weren’t too.” Thoughts were again starting to form coherently in Tavish’s mind. “She looks at you with adoration in her eyes. Both of them do actually. Sophia and Gabriela.” He shook his head, “I don’t get it... Maybe she just needs some time. To digest what she’s remembered.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” Come on, Alistair Connor. Man up and talk to your brother. He gives good advice. Alistair opened his mouth and closed it again. No. Wait.

“So what is it then?”

“I don’t know,” Alistair shook his head disheartened and repeated quietly, “I don’t know.”

London, On the way to Soho.

11.31 p.m.

Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Sophia mulled over the last months of her life.

In truth, she was caught completely off guard by Alistair’s proposal. It filled her with hope, elation, and a fear so deep she choked on it. Everything she wanted was right there at her fingertips. She could take it and know he offered it truly. The memory of what she saw in his dressing room flooded her mind and she remembered the times Alistair had asked for the pain and violence thing.

Even without the proposal, am I ready to continue in a relationship where I know nothing about the man I have been with for months?

Her car stopped.

Should I give him a chance? Should I? How can I know what it’s like without trying? And do I want to try? She breathed deep and without looking at Steven, who held the door open for her, with his usual impassive face, alighted from her Jaguar. She looked both ways and chewed her lip. Damn, Alistair Connor. Damn you.

Sophia took a deep breath, mustered all her courage and pushed open the door to the sex shop. She stopped inside, unsure.

At that time of the night, the shop was still busy.

Now, Sophia. You are inside. Just do what you have to do and get out of here.

“Good evening,” a short, middle-aged plump woman approached as she noticed Sophia’s insecurity. She smiled, friendly, “I’m Mary. May I help you?”

God. She looks like a kindergarten teacher. What is she doing here? Oh, please, Sophia, stop wondering about other people’s lives. “H-Hi,” she stammered. “I, ah... I have a party to go-” Oh, yeah, Sophia. A party to go to on a Monday, at midnight.

“Yes?” The attendant didn’t even blink. She’d heard many weird excuses over the years.

Sophia cleared her throat, “I have a party to go to and I’m supposed to take a gift for-” Think, think! “my newly divorced friend with some- Ah... Something.”

“I see.” The expression on the woman’s face didn’t reveal if she knew Sophia was lying. “And do you have something in mind? Lingerie or a dildo, perhaps?”

The attendant motioned to a wall covered with dildos and vibrators. Of every length and width imaginable. And many other things that Sophia didn’t even recognize.

Sophia walked over to the wall and paused in front of it, biting her lip so hard it turned white. She tilted her head to read the name of the strange thing she was looking at.

“That’s an anal bead with a clitoral stimulator. It’s waterproof. You can use it in the shower or in the tub, with lube.”

“Ah...” Sophia blushed. “I see.” How does she talk about this so naturally?

“And this one here is new but it’s already a super seller.” Mary pointed to two linked silver balls connected to a remote control.

“What is this for?” Sophia raised her brows.

“Oh. They are very nice. These balls have four pulse-racing vibration speeds. It’s good to warm up on the lowest setting, then ramp up through medium, high, and finish yourself off with the powerful super. And if she likes clitoral stimulation, she can place one of the balls inside her and stimulate the clit with the other.”

If Mary had looked at Sophia’s face she would have stopped talking. Sophia was blushing furiously. But she carried on animatedly describing the toy. “Or even! These balls can also be used anally for more wicked fun. Oh. And the controller can be disconnected and used with other compatible sex toys. What do you think? It’s different. Would your friend like it?”

She lowered her voice to a whisper, “No. She’s into... stronger things.”

“Hard core? BDSM, maybe?”

BD What? “Whips, handcuffs, you know... Those kind of things,” Sophia murmured.

Mary took a good look at Sophia’s face then. She narrowed her eyes noticing the long natural hair, her washed bruised face, long-sleeved purple T-shirt, flared dark jeans and asked, “May I see your ID, please?”

“My ID? What for?”

“It’s illegal to sell sex toys to minors,” explained Mary.

Sophia almost broke into hysterical laughter, but managed to shove it deep down, fumbled with her purse and showed Mary her driver’s license.

“Thanks. Come through here,” the middle-aged woman strolled farther into the shop and looked at her watch discreetly.

Sophia did the same. Past midnight and I’m buying sex devices. I must have gone insane.

They went through a curtained door and Sophia sucked in a breath.

She had entered a world made of black and red leather. Most of them had a purpose Sophia couldn’t even begin to imagine. They stared back at her, making the blood rush from her face and making her feel dizzy. What have I gotten myself into?

“Are you feeling okay?”

Sophia looked down at the woman and noticed Mary was watching her with a concerned look.

“Y-yes. Yes, I am.”

Mary pointed and explained to Sophia the myriad of products until she could bear no more.

“Mary, please, I just need a strange whip with many tails. That is what I’m supposed to take. Can you chose one for me?”

“Ah, a cat-o-nine or a flogger. Any special kind?”

“Is there more than one kind?” Sophia was bewildered.

“Oh, yes. They can be plain, braided, with beads, fangs. We have a nice collection: Natasha, made of sharkskin, is our new addition. Come this way.”

Natasha? They give names to whips!

Mary stopped in front of a long rack where more than fifty types of cats and floggers, in different colors and sizes hung neatly.

Sophia pointed to one, absentmindedly, “This will do.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not. But since I have no experience in this, I can’t judge it, can I?”

Mary pursed her lips and picked out two different floggers, showing them to Sophia, “Why don’t you start with this one,” she raised the one in her right hand, “instead of the one with fangs? This one is made from bullhide. Its thicker leather has both thud and bite. It’s a beautiful top-grain leather, thick yet supple. It can easily serve both for warm-ups and moderate end play.” She demonstrated it on her own thigh.

Sophia almost choked.

Then Mary raised her other hand and calmly continued the explanation, “Or you can take this one. It’s lighter and special. One of our best suppliers managed to find a small source of quality horsehides. This material has many unique properties. It’s strong and durable even in extreme conditions and, unlike other types of hides, it’s naturally waterproof.”

What? Horses? Is there no limit to this? Sophia gagged and breathed in, concentrating hard on not being sick all over the floor.

The woman didn’t notice and carried on, “Horsehide is so tough that when kangaroo isn’t available for bullwhip falls, Australian whip makers will often use it as a good replacement. Today these hides are still very scarce, since all our horsehide leather is sourced from animals with natural deaths. Horses can’t be killed for their hides.”

“Indeed,” Sophia managed to say in a small voice. “I’ll take the one with... Ah... Fangs, then.”

Mary checked the price. “Oh, you’re in luck. This one’s got a very good price. It’s four hundred and seventy-five pounds.”

What? In luck? Sophia almost asked out loud. Nearly five hundred pounds for a whip? She shook her head at herself. People really are crazy.

“I’ll make a nice gift package for you. How will you be paying?”

“Credit card.”

“Come this way, please.”

Leibowitz Oil Building.

Tuesday, April 6th, 2010.

1.03 a.m.

Sophia called the lifts at the garage.

So quiet. The loneliness of the marble hall on her floor seemed to slap her in the face. This is how my life will be without Alistair.

She shook her head and walked resolutely to her office, taking her key card out of her Chanel bag. You’ll never know what you’re dealing with without good research, Sophia.

She entered her office with Steven and Zareb on her heels. “I won’t be long.”

“There’s no need to rush, Mrs. Leibowitz,” Steven assured her.

“We’ll wait right here.” Zareb had a strange expression in his face.

Sophia breathed deep, entered her office and closed the door. She made a fortifying cappuccino and sat on her chair.

She typed in her password and her iMac came to life. Plugging her iPhone in it, she transferred the pictures she’d taken of Alistair’s dressing room. Opening her internet browser, she added tab after tab, typing in the various things into search.

When she returned to the first one, she narrowed her eyes. Her hand was not steady as she opened the first link.

Leibowitz Oil Building, Sophia’s office.

3.28 a.m.

The sound of paper being crumpled ripped through the silence in the office.

Reaching for the drawer, Sophia’s long and slender fingers pulled out another cream sheet with her name elegantly printed in navy at the top of the page. Her Cartier exotic dragon fountain pen ran smoothly over the surface.

April 6th, 2010.

My Dear,

Our relationship is doomed. I can’t carry on with it. My heart is bleeding but I have to ask you to forget me.

I’m sorry. More than you can imagine but I know that, in the end, it’s going to destroy me. You are

The pen stopped midair and Sophia thinned her lips. She crushed the sheet in her hand and threw it with rage in the already full wastepaper basket.

3.48 a.m.

She walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the sprawl of London across the water with the London Eye visible in the distance. And made a resolute decision. Sophia picked up the iPhone and booked a chartered flight for Gabriela and her, leaving in three hours.

She opened the door to the hall. Steven and Zareb were calmly talking as if it were the middle of the day. They immediately got up.

“I’m so sorry. I- It took longer than I imagined. I just need one more minute.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Leibowitz.”

She hastily added a p.s., folded the letter and sealed the envelope with red wax and pressed her monogramed stamp on it.

She took out another sheet of paper and caressed her dragon pen, thoughtfully. She wrote down a message for Sarah. Her eyes moistened, but she brushed her hand with anger over them and she took out the black box from her bag.

Sophia called Maria and asked her to pack a small bag with some light clothes for Gabriela and herself.

Then she walked out of her office, leaving the note, the sealed envelope and the black box on Sarah’s desk.

“I’m ready to go,” she informed the men and walked to the lifts.

The sealed envelope was addressed to:

Alistair Connor MacCraig

Personal and Confidential

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

4.50 a.m.

Ethan’s BlackBerry rang in the silent room. Once. Twice.

“Hello?” he answered on the third ring.

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but there is a situation.”

A dark smile spread over Ethan’s rugged face and his azure eyes flashed. “His loss. Keep an eye on her and brief me again in fifteen minutes.”

“Of course, sir. Also, my contact traced a credit card payment made at a... sex shop in Soho... Hmm... A few minutes after midnight.”

Ethan entered the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror as he changed.

Money and power do not make a man honorable. Worlds can be destroyed in mere seconds. Empires fall after centuries of absolute power. Ethan knew this better than anyone. His whole world had ended in such a way. All his dreams had been ripped from him in the blink of an eye. Twice.

With his grandfather’s loving lessons he had reinvented himself. And he had prepared himself for any eventuality. He knew how to use every opportunity life gave him. He was not going to miss this one.

Love is what keeps people going. Grandpa taught me well. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, while reasoning with himself. MacCraig must have let his mask slip. I will do anything to protect Sophia.

Even from herself.

No matter how. No matter the cost.

Chapter 21

Heathrow Airport.

In one of the Heathrow by Invitation lounges.

5.31 a.m.

Ethan’s cell phone vibrated and he looked down at the BBM message from Scott:

Her car will be arriving in a few minutes.

With deft touches, Ethan texted back:

Inform crew.

Ethan walked slowly to the lounge door. After a few minutes he spotted Sophia’s bodyguard. Zareb was broader and a head taller than most people around him. And his white smile and bald black head shined under the lights.

Ethan walked out of the room pretending nonchalance.

“Sophia?” he asked.

She stopped and looked at him as he called her name. Maria, Zareb and Steven, who was carrying a sleeping Gabriela, stopped too.

“Hey Ethan,” she gave him a tired smile. “We keep meeting at airports.”

“So it seems, darling.” He approached her and kissed her cheeks. His eyes bulged when he took in the bruises that marred her face. His hand brushed her hair back to better look at the small patch protecting the stitches. Why I don’t know about this? “What happened to you?”

“No big deal,” she shrugged. “I fell.”

Hm. Is this true, Sophia? “I’m leaving in a few minutes. I have a meeting in São Paulo. I’m thinking of opening a branch there.”

“Really? I’m going to Rio.”

“Why don’t you come with me, then? You know I’ve got enough space for you.”

Sophia bit her lip and looked over her shoulder at her sleeping daughter.

Ethan immediately complemented, “For all of you, of course.”

“I- Ethan, really... Thanks, but I’ve already booked-”

“Cancel it, darling.” He looked at the little girl and smiled. Go for the kill, Ashford. “Gabriela will be more comfortable in my stateroom than in any other plane. I guarantee.”

“All right,” she conceded and turned to Steven. “Could you please see to it? If they charge any fees, pay them with the credit card.”

“Of course, Mrs. Leibowitz,” he answered and transferred Gabriela to Zareb’s arms.

London, Mayfair. Edward Davidoff’s Apartment.

5.50 a.m.

Edward’s iPhone chirped again informing him of an incoming email. He frowned as he recognized Sophia’s ringtone. He looked at his digital clock and his frown deepened even more. He kissed the blond head lying beside him and a soft, male moan was heard in the bedroom.

He got out of bed and put a hand on his pounding head. “I drank too much,” he muttered.

He got up and searched through the heap of clothes on the floor for his mobile.

There was one call and one email. When he touched the screen to read it, the battery died. He cursed and went to his office.

From: Sophia Santo (sophia@santo.co.uk)

Subject: Some time off

Date: Tuesday, April 6, 2010. 5.47.53 GMT

To: Edward Davidoff (e.davidoff@leibowitzoil.co.uk)

__________________________________________________

Dear Edward,

I’m taking some time off with Gabriela. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t worry. Everything is okay. I just need time to think about a couple of things that happened this weekend.

I know LO is in competent hands. I trust you.

Thanks.

S xx

__________________________________________________

“Christ! What’s happening? What happened?” Edward murmured as he speed-dialed Sophia’s phone. He got her voicemail. “Shit!” He waited for the beep, “Sophia, love, it’s me. Please, call me as soon as you can.”

He hastily got up, an idea forming in his mind. He paused at the threshold and looked at the mess in his bedroom. He shook his head, amazed, and went to the bathroom to get ready for what he guessed would be a very unusual day.

Dr. Andrew Volk’s Office.

9.27 a.m.

“The death of someone close to you usually is emotionally devastating. A daughter’s death, in your case, is especially debilitating. In my opinion, by having those physical encounters, you experienced and released the anger, guilt and emptiness that you were not able to deal with. I’m not judging your choice, but you have to understand that that was your way for you to come to terms with your loss. How do you feel now?”

Seriously? Alistair raked a hand through his hair and looked at the doctor with narrowed eyes. “Do you have kids, Andrew?”

Doctor Volk cleared his throat. “That’s not what I’m asking. I have a seventeen year old son. I’m not saying that I know what you felt when your daughter died. Or what-

“But let me tell you, anyway.” He stopped the doctor, raising his palm. “It was as if my heart had been ripped from my body. I was soulless. For a long time, I was hollow. There was nothing inside-” Alistair frowned and corrected himself, “No. That’s wrong. I was heartbroken and soulless, yes. However... I felt... I felt hate, anger, pain. I hated Heather. I loathed myself. I was totally consumed by dark emotions, they made me numb to everything else. I wanted to shout my rage at the world. I wanted to destroy every woman that came in my way. I lost all capacity to relate to others. Mere days after the funeral, I became even more ruthless.” He put his elbows on his knees and hissed at the doctor, “I was a coward and couldn’t take my own life.”

“So, you wanted to destroy and be destroyed in each and every way possible. This is sado-masochism.”

Alistair’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead.

“And I wouldn’t call it cowardice-”

“Oh, no! Of course not,” Alistair gave a harsh laugh and pushed both hands in his hair, resting his forehead in his hands. “All I could think of was that I wanted to be buried with Nathalie. Alive. I wish I were inside her little coffin. She didn’t like the dark, you know? Singing her a lullaby to keep her fears away. Holding her, so she wouldn’t feel cold and alone. Protecting her-” His throat closed and tears filled his eyes. He was overcome by a longing so devastating, it would have cleaved him not so long ago.

But Alistair was a different man now.

He closed his eyes and breathed deep a few times, his mind seeking comfort in his memories of Sophia and Gabriela.

Dr. Volk was a professional and was more than used to listening to those kind of stories, but he was a father too. He was moved by the gut wrenching pain he knew was ripping apart the man seated on the sofa.

Alistair dried his eyes and leaned back on the couch and looked at his therapist. “I couldn’t fulfill my desire to be with her. I was powerless to go back in time and save her from-” he waved his hand in the air. A minute passed before Alistair opened his eyes again and asked hoarsely, “Does that give you an idea?”

“Yes. And I can relate to your feelings. You didn’t think it was fair to love and to be loved. To feel pleasure, to give pleasure. Let me tell you, I would call this a normal reaction, if you had stopped on the feelings and had not advanced into action. Don’t be afraid of feeling, Alistair. Give yourself over to all these dark emotions that scare you because you think that they will make you less than a man. They will not. On the contrary, they will make you grow.”

A grimace appeared on Alistair’s face. “I did feel them. They teared me apart. I can’t-” He shook his head so hard that a lock fell over his eye. “I can’t face it all over again. You can’t imagine the pain. I can’t. I should have been more careful. I should have called Alice. Natalie-” Alistair choked on his daughter’s name and looked down at his hands, moved. I loved you so much, my dear, my baby.

“I understand,” the two words softly said, were full of meaning. Dr. Volk discretely looked at the clock positioned beside Alistair. Their time was up. But he could not let the session end that way. “You resent things so fiercely because you were not capable of taking care of her as your family always took care of you. And, Heather was the epitome of carelessness. She didn’t take care of you or of your daughter. I would go further and say that she didn’t take care of herself. And you are destroying yourself because you know, deep inside, unconsciously, that you are not omnipotent.”

Alistair felt as if Dr. Volk had slapped him. He breathed deep and clenched his fists, trying to control his anger.

“Stop, Alistair. Don’t be always so in control. This is tiring and damaging. Here is the right place to vent all your anger and frustrations.” Dr. Volk waited but Alistair didn’t say a word. “You lost all the women of your life in a short period of time. Your wife, your daughter and then your mother. People confuse life and death. Life comprises sadness, pain and death. No one can escape those and surrending to those feelings helps healing. The depression-”

“You want me to succumb to depression as my mother did?” Alistair asked incredulous. “What good did that do to her? No. I’m going to fight against all those debilitating feelings.”

“I’m not suggesting you become depressed and lose all your strength. Appropriate bereavement is normal and even healthy and it will lessen and pass in time, while major depression may not and requires treatment. Alistair, unresolved grief is worse than the grief itself. Since Natalie’s death, have you been living a normal, happy and healthy life? You told me that you lost the ability to trust others, that you avoided relationships and felt emotionally numb. Do you still feel like this?”

For many seconds, Alistair stayed silent, revisiting the last months. When he answered, his voice was full of awe. “Nae. She came and changed everything.” He closed his eyes and whispered, “As if by magic, Sophia changed everything.”

“Magic.” Dr. Volk smiled. “If you want to call trusting, caring and feeling magic, so be it.” The doctor leaned in Alistair’s direction. “Because from what you told me, Sophia isn’t afraid of trusting, caring and feeling. I guess she is just organizing her life to show herself fully to you. Because one cannot invite the other to share one’s life if one is not whole. This, Alistair, is her magic. Unfortunately, our time is over. I have an... assignment for you. I want you to reflect on how you feel now that you are in a steady relationship. What did Sophia do to change your feelings? What about her makes you feel so right? There’s a poem I like very much. Renascence by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I’ll send it to you by email and I want you to read it and tell me your impressions. We will talk about it on Thursday.”

The City of London Bank Headquarters.

10.17 a.m.

“Davidoff, good morning. How may I help you?” Alistair’s deep voice sounded tired and despondent even for himself.

“What have you done to her?” asked Edward, his voice tinged with anger.

What? “I...” he halted, and looked astonished at his brother, who raised an eyebrow. He put the call on speaker. “I’ve done nothing. Where is she?”

“She is gone. Nobody knows where she is. She left you a letter,” a heavy breath was exhaled.

“She is... gone,” he repeated in a murmur, frowning. Gone... Where? Why?

10.29 a.m.

Alistair strode down the marble corridor that led to the garage like a man possessed. What Edward had just said still echoed in his mind. He remembered Sophia’s civil and distant manner. I am such a fool! It’s all my fault. I should have known she would uncover my darkness. One way or another.

They entered the car and Alistair informed Garrick, “Leibowitz Oil Building, please. I’m in a hurry.”

Why didn’t she call me? Why leave a written message? And with Davidoff, for Christ’s sake? Alistair shoved his sunglasses on his face, impatiently. She is afraid of you, you idiot!

Alistair felt Tavish’s hand on his shoulder. He wanted to snarl but it was no use taking out his confused feelings on his brother.

“Calm down, Alistair Connor. You know he’s partially right.”

He fisted his hands trying to control his jealousy and his rage and turned to look at Tavish. “He thinks too much of himself. He shouldn’t have opened her letter to me. To me! He has feelings for her, Tavish Uilleam.”

“Who doesn’t like Sophia? She’s sugar coated. And he’s known her for a long time.”

“He has other interests at stake. She gave him five percent of Leibowitz Oil.” He thinned his lips.

“Don’t underestimate Sophia’s ensnaring capacity. He must be worried sick about her. I am. She’s just remembered what happened to her. Months of horror. Can you imagine how confused her mind is right now? You shouldn’t have proposed on Sunday,” Tavish shook his head, “it was tactless of you.”

Alistair punched his fist on the leather car seat, “Fuck! Do you think that’s why she fled?”

“Oh, man,” Tavish murmured under his breath and shoved his hand in his ink-black hair, weighing his words. “Alistair, she discovered your preferences. How, I don’t know. Maybe she did the same thing you did. I doubt it, though. It doesn’t fit her character. She is too honorable.”

“What did I do?” Alistair frowned at his brother’s choice of words looking out through the tinted windows at the intense traffic. He glanced at Tavish again, the crease in his forehead deepening, “So, what did I do that was so dishonorable?”

“You hired a private detective-”

“A detective, that’s it,” he interrupted brusquely and pulled his cell phone from his breast pocket, dialing a number. “Baptist, good morning, it’s Alistair Connor MacCraig. I need you to find Mrs. Sophia Leibowitz and her daughter. They left London today and I need to know where they’ve gone.” He listened for a split second and rushed in, “Stop everything else you’re doing. I’m doubling your fees. I’ll transfer half of it right now.”

“Alistair Connor!” Tavish scolded his brother, but Alistair just held up his hand, stopping him while he listened to what Baptist was saying.

Alistair didn’t even acknowledge Tavish’s outraged gasp as he settled the price. “Done. I’ll deposit half right now and the other half when you find her.”

“I don’t believe it, Alistair Connor.”

“Anything for her. Anything,” he whispered the last word.

Tavish had seen Alistair wield his power to achieve his position at the bank and on the stock market, glorying at other people’s downfall. He had seen his brother seduce many women with sensual elegance and a cold heart simply to amuse himself.

Yet the man beside him in the car was broken. Broken by unrequited love. And this love inside him was as dangerous as it was gentle and compelling.

Tavish understood then that the darkness in Alistair could only be controlled by Sophia. She was the only one who had that power.

Tavish only didn’t know if Sophia should be envied or pitied.

Leibowitz Oil Building, Sophia’s office.

10.57 a.m.

April 06th, 2010.

My dear Alistair Connor,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I’m sure you’re going to find this - what to call it - confession (?) quite confusing. It is. It just reflects my feelings. I’ve tried to put my thoughts in some sort of order but I’m too overwhelmed by what I remembered and what I discovered this weekend. So, I’m going to do this in parts.

Let’s start with what I discovered. I think you’ll understand this part better.

First of all, I have to apologize and say that it wasn’t intentional. I was a bit dizzy yesterday morning probably due to a combination of drugs. I steadied myself on a door in your dressing room and it opened. (I don’t need to say which door or what I saw inside, do I?)

At first, I thought it was interesting, creative even. I was amazed at finding myself wanting to get you to explain things to me, maybe even try them. But as I opened the next door... Curiosity killed the cat, isn’t that what they say? Well, at first, I didn’t understand what I was seeing. Then I started to put things together. What you told me about Heather - and her perversions - and your sometimes unusual behavior in bed gave me a clue. And I wondered where it would lead us. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. So I did some research. In loco and on line. And still... I don’t understand how or why most of those things are used. I was shocked and felt utterly betrayed. Is that what you meant by a touch of pain and violence? Understatement of the year.

Some would say that I’m being naïve and prudish. That it’s just a different way of loving. To that I’d answer that I have some sense of self-preservation and that I’m not devoid of self-esteem. I’ve even read that it can brings transcendental gratification and orgasm. How? I wonder... Just for the record, some say that of drugs too. But I digress.

For me, that is not sex, that is not love. It’s cruelty, torture. There is no love in pain, in humiliation of the other. This kind of ‘role-play’ or ‘loving’, as some insist on calling it, reminds me of the Spanish Inquisition, slavery, and of some barbaric mutilations that we know are still being done in Africa and who knows where else.

I can’t abide it. I won’t abide it. It’s not in my nature to quietly accept these kinds of things. And even though I have a very curious mind, I don’t want to learn these things. Now I understand why you told me I was your salvation from the dark abyss. However I can’t redeem you. Only you can help yourself. Unless you seek counseling to help you really get away - be cured(?) - from this strange compulsion, I will not be your salvation. On the contrary, I’ll be your destruction. And you’ll be mine.

You know what I like in sex and that’s not it. I don’t like pain. I don’t need it to enhance my pleasure. I’ll go further and say that you do not like or need it either. You know how to be gentle, loving and protective. How to be fierce, even savage sometimes - my overbearing Lord Caveman. You’re lovable. You’re not selfish or callous in your relationships. This is a horrible opinion you have of yourself. You have a heart. And it’s not dark.

I hope you let go of this need to take revenge on yourself.

Bury your wife. Forever. Let her rot in hell. By herself.

Give your daughter’s soul some peace. I’m sure she doesn’t blame you for what happened. Some angels are too good to live their entire lives in this inferno. They come to Earth for only a short time because they have a mission. She had completed hers.

Nothing happens without a reason. It’s not in us to understand them. It’s very difficult to accept some things. I know. It’s human nature to rebel against what we can’t control and what causes us distress. But sometimes rebellion and rage don’t help our cause. Acceptance and love do.

Now, I must face my part in our wreckage.

I haven’t been forthcoming with you. I betrayed you when I omitted and lied. And I’m so sorry. I’m not the good, perfect woman you pictured. I did a very shameful and reproachable thing in my past. If regret could kill, I would be dead by now.

Some say that G-d doesn’t give us more than we can handle. So I must endure it. However, I can’t burden you with more than you already carry.

Let me be blunt: I committed a crime. A huge one. I wish I could say that I did it because I wasn’t in my right mind but... That would be a lie. Another lie. I’m done with lies. To my credit, all I can say is that I’ve been redeeming myself - or, at least, trying to, if there is any possibility of redemption. Nevertheless, I don’t think it would be fair with you if I had accepted your proposal and withheld such a secret from you. Surely, it would fester and corrupt our marriage.

You told me I could trust you. I do. But I cannot tell you this. You have no idea. And I don’t want you to. And you also wouldn’t want to. Trust me. (Oh. Such an unfair request. But isn’t life?) I have tried to put myself in your place as I wrote this and I’m deeply ashamed of my behavior.

Thank you for all your patience with me; for all your caring and love toward Gabriela.

Concerning my lies to you, in my defense, all I can say is that I just can’t destroy the beautiful image you have of me. (Even though it’s a lie.)

Selfish, you would accuse and I agree. But... This is how I am. A selfish woman. A liar. A criminal.

The third part. The conclusion.

Our relationship is doomed. I wish it wasn’t so but I can’t fool myself anymore. In the long run it’s going to destroy me. You. Us. And I can’t allow it.

I hope you find happiness in your life. Nothing is more powerful than your own wish. So, wish to love and to be loved. You’ll achieve it.

I was not as strong and courageous as I should have been. Please, I beg you, don’t be angry and try to understand.

I’m so very sorry it has come to this.This decision is tearing me apart and I hurt. This isn’t what I planned or imagined but it’s beyond my control. My heart bleeds while I write this letter because I know that I’m leaving a piece of it with you. A big piece.

So, I wish it weren’t but this is: Good-bye.

Please, don’t call me. I need space to rebuild my life. And Gabriela’s.

With all my love,

Sophia

P.S. - I know it’s very impolite to return gifts but this one had a very important meaning for us.

So, I’m giving you your heart back and I’m holding you responsible of taking good care of it. Don’t waste it on undeserving women like me.

S.

Tavish finished reading the letter and studied his brother’s dejected posture as Alistair caressed the exquisite ruby on the clip which Sophia had returned. As he gave Alistair back the letter, he said, “I... I don’t know what to say.”

Alistair turned from the window. “Dr. Kent? Have you read Sophia’s letter?”

“No, Mr. MacCraig, I haven’t. I was waiting for your permission.” She glanced briefly at Edward, who was looking at the ceiling as if it had the answer to all his questions.

Alistair sighed and handed her the letter. He tilted his head to the side, studying Edward.

Edward’s anguish was palpable. The white lines around his lips betrayed his concern and his anger.

“Davidoff-”

“MacCraig,” Edward’s voice was dry, “I have to apologize. For opening the letter. But I thought, from what I saw on her computer, that matters had gotten out of hand.”

Mmm. Better. “It’s all right. I’d like to understand what you thought the police would do?”

“Recently the Leibowitz Foundation helped in a similar case.” Alistair’s frown darkened, but Edward didn’t acknowledge it. “An S&M case where the court ruled that the amount of physical or psychological harm that the law allows between any two people, even married consenting adults in the privacy of their home, is to be determined by the State because of its responsibility to protect people from these injuries. Acts such as the ones Sophia researched online are illegal according to British law, even between consenting adults.”

Edward ran a hand over his face and stared into Alistair’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that anything had happened. I was only thinking that Sophia might...”

Alistair nodded his forgiveness. “It really doesn’t matter now, does it? Could you, please, show me what Sophia googled?”

He pointed to Sophia’s computer. “Sure, see for yourself. Her history is still on the screen.”

Alistair sat on Sophia’s chair and the first thing he noticed were two photos discreetly standing beside her iMac. He was startled. He didn’t know if he should be flattered or annoyed by the photos.

In the first one, Sophia, adorable in her wedding dress, looking enthralled at Gabriel’s face. Their body language spoke for them, shouting loudly, ‘Love! Love! Love!’.

In the other, Alistair saw his own smiling face, holding a lovely, laughing Gabriela in his arms. Sophia had taken that photo at Stonehenge.

He remembered that day clearly; the day she had asked him to slow things down. He should have known better. He should never have dragged Sophia into his darkness. His lips curled down and he shook his head sadly at the sequence of events that passed through his head.

“Jesus. Christ.” Alistair’s shocked mumble made Tavish look away from Dr. Kent’s face to stare at his brother.

Alistair had been going through Sophia’s searched websites for at least ten minutes. He was ashen, his green eyes glued to the screen. He was sitting stiff on her chair. When he turned to look at them, he seemed unsure of what to do.

Eventually, he exhaled, discomfited, and let his feet carry him to where the others were seated, and dropped heavily in one of the armchairs, “I never did anything like that.”

Edward just snorted.

“With her, I mean. She’s not the kind of woman-”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Edward interrupted him. “I know Sophia better than you, MacCraig.”

Son of a bitch. Alistair narrowed his eyes at Edward, “But you’ll never know her as I do.” Steady, Alistair Connor, steady. You need to bring Davidoff to your side.

“I was friends with Gabriel for more than fifteen years. And with Sophia for almost a decade. I was at their wedding,” Edward thinned his lips with anger, stopping the hateful words he wanted to say. “And to think I’m the one responsible for your relationship. I encouraged her. She knew instinctively that you were trouble. Her damn instincts. I should have demanded a background check on you. But it was too late. She was already ensnared and didn’t let me. She wanted to build a relationship based in honor and trust.” He raised from his place on the sofa, disgusted with himself and walked to the window. “She was happy, damn you.”

“Edward,” Dr. Kent’s soft voice interrupted Edward’s train of thoughts, “we have to focus on Sophia. I’m quite worried about her state of mind.” She turned to Alistair and gently asked, “Mr. MacCraig, Sophia has undergone many harsh things during her life. Her mind works on a... precarious balance. Your brother was telling me that she remembered the events leading to her husband’s death. I wish you could explain it a bit better. How it happened and what she told you.”

12.45 p.m.

Alistair entered the car and faced Tavish, “I’m going home. I’m in no state to face anyone now. Can you cover for me this afternoon?”

“Of course. Don’t worry.”

Why wasn’t I careful enough to empty Ells Hall and Airgead of those things? Can I convince her of my new intentions? He leaned his head on the seat, closing his eyes. He felt hollow, as an enormous sense of loss took hold of his soul. What. Have. I. Done?

Chapter 22

Somewhere over the Atlantic. In Ethan Ashford’s G650.

1.05 p.m. GMT.

“Feeling better?” Ethan helped Sophia sit down on the sofa as she came out of the bathroom. He put his arm over her shoulders, nestling her on his large body. Sophia put her head on Ethan’s shoulder too weak to do anything else. She should have remembered that painkillers had a much stronger effect on a plane. She shouldn’t have taken another codeine tablet.

He put his hand over her forehead and looked down at her pale face and blueish lips, concerned. “You don’t look well, Sophia.” What did that bastard do to you?

“I’m okay, Ethan. I told you I’m not going to throw up. I never throw up. I’m just a bit nauseous, because of my low blood pressure. I need some salt.”

“Vanessa, please, bring to me some salt and a blanket,” he ordered from across the plane.

He turned to Sophia, “Lie down. I’m going to make a-”

She pulled him as he started to rise. “Stay with me.”

“All right.”

“Here, Mr. Ashford.” The attendant returned quickly, handing him a small china bowl with some salt and a blanket.

“Vanessa, please, bring an espresso for Ms. Leibowitz.” As he covered her, Ethan probed, “Tell me what MacCraig did to leave you in this state, baby.”

What Alistair did? He proposed. I couldn’t accept. Sophia’s eyes filled with tears again. “Nothing. It’s not him.”

Staring into her eyes, he said, “I don’t understand you, Sophia. MacCraig isn’t the kind of man you would be happy with. He’s not... Hm, how can I say this? Normal?”

I know this now. She closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her face. “Normal? What’s considered normal nowadays?”

His rage seethed. “Where’s your self-respect?” he asked, in a calm and measured tone. “How far has he degraded you?”

Ethan realized he’d made a mistake even before he finished his sentence, as Sophia’s face paled even more.

The shock of the unexpected blow was absolute. Sophia felt as if he’d punched her. “Ethan... He never, ever degraded me, as you put it,” she whispered. “It’s not like that. We just broke up. Simple as that.” Simple? She looked up into his azure eyes, “I don’t want to talk about it. Please.”

You don’t know how to lie, my love. I’m going to kill that bastard. “All right. Here. Drink the rest of your coffee. It’ll do you good. So, are you excited about the ball? I was thinking... We could go to India together when the new Leibowitz center opens there.”

The rest of the flight passed in relative calm as Sophia’s pressure normalized after they had a light lunch and talked about their plans for the charity.

Alistair MacCraig’s Apartment.

1.07 p.m.

If possible, Alistair’s stare would have melted his computer screen with its intensity as he contemplated what to do next.

“Baptist has a cunning ability to unearth secrets. If there is anyone who can tell me what the fuck is this crime she says she’s committed, it’s him. His reports are classy,” he told his brother on the phone.

“Aye.” Tavish snorted. “They can be a classy catastrophe for the person he’s investigating. Don’t do this, Alistair Connor,” Tavish admonished. “You may not like what you discover.”

“Tavish Uilleam. I have three words for you: Veritas vos liberavit.”

“Oh, man... You stubborn idiot,” he rubbed his hand on his forehead, wondering how a woman as gentle as Sophia could have possibly committed a crime.

Brazil, Rio de Janeiro, Copacabana, Avenida Atlântica.

The Gonçalves & Espírito Santo Families’ Penthouse.

3.33 p.m.

Sophia heard the sound of the door opening, but didn’t turn to look. The sea was glinting black and gray in the afternoon light of the rainy day, mirroring her feelings.

“Not now,” she said in a strangled voice.

Strong hands gripped her by the shoulders and whirled her around, turning her away from the view. She winced at the pain on her left shoulder.

“Heavens, Sis! What happened?” Felipe was appalled at Sophia’s appearance. She had put on makeup to cover up the bruises on her temple and under her eyes and was dressed in black as if in mourning, despite the warm weather.

She threw her arms around his waist, hugging him fiercely, “Oh, I’ve missed you, Brother.”

“What is it, Sophia? What’s happening?”

“It’s nothing. I’m just being silly.” She didn’t want to talk about it. Felipe had enough problems of his own. She wiped the tears from her eyes and asked, “What are you doing here in the middle of the day? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Carolina was very worried. She called me as soon as you arrived. She took Gabi to the shopping center, but she didn’t want to leave you alone with Grandma. She said you flew here with a man called Ethan. Is he the guy who gave us that ride from Geneva?”

“Yes, Ethan Ashford.”

“I thought you’d broken up with him, Sophia,” he gripped her chin and made her look at him.

“I did. But he’s still a dear friend. He seems to sense when I need a ride. And I was lucky I was with him, Felipe. I guess that the painkillers I took lowered my blood pressure. It was really bad.”

“Carol told me you practically had to be carried upstairs.”

“No big deal,” she waved his concern away.

“Where is he?”

“He had a business meeting in São Paulo. He just dropped us off here, but he said he’d come over later. He was very concerned. You know my pressure gives me a scare sometimes.”

“Yeah. Grandma told me you hadn’t eaten yet. Come-”

“Felipe,” she interrupted and put a hand on her stomach, “I feel sick. Don’t insist. Please.”

“Sophia...” His eyes, so like hers, rounded in surprise, “Are you pregnant? Alistair?”

How could I be? The memory of him made her break down in wrenched sobs.

“Oh, Sis, don’t cry,” he caressed her hair, tenderly. “You know a child is always welcome-”

“I-I’m not preg-pregnant,” she stammered between tears and sobs. “That’s not it. Oh, Felipe, so many things have happened these last few days.”

Ipanema. The Leibowitz’s Penthouse.

Wednesday, April 7th, 2010.

10.10 a.m.

Sophia dropped the keys on the marble floor and they echoed loudly in the empty hallway. Kneeling outside the door of the apartment she had shared with Gabriel, she noticed she had started to shake uncontrollably.

Damn. Get a grip, Sophia. She took a deep breath and stood up with the keys in her hand. One. Two. Three. Now. She shoved the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

The silence of the apartment, once so happily filled with laughter hit her hard.

Tiny black dots clouded her vision as a panic attack threatened to overwhelm her. Not now. Please God, not when I’m alone.

She knew she had to say good-bye. And she had to face it.

I’m not alone. Gabriel is here with me. He will always be. One way or another. Forever.

This is for him. This is for me. For Gabriela. For the future, whatever the future brings.

Sophia took a deep breath, focused on her breathing, wrestling to calm herself. She closed the door behind her and leaned on the wall taking in the apartment where she had been so happy. The joyful memories were so sharp that if she were a weaker woman she would have laid on the floor and wept for days.

I’m sorry, Gabriel. To wish you were not dead, would mean to regret meeting Alistair Connor. And... Oh, God! I can’t make myself do that. Sophia closed her eyes for a second, pushed off the wall and started to wander through the rooms.

She entered their bedroom and looked at a photo of them on their honeymoon. How naïve I was then.

Sophia never realized that grief and self-pity weren’t the same thing. She thought she was mourning Gabriel and all she had lost, but in reality what she had been doing was hating the world and feeling sorry for herself.

Sophia’s mind was now putting the memories together like a puzzle. All the time she’d spent angry at the world and asking the universe ‘why her’ didn’t help. On the contrary, it had kept her away from the pain brought by the loss of her innocence and the death of her husband.

I don’t belong here anymore. I have to let go.

With tears in her yes, she started cataloguing items on her MacAir, with photographs and small notes, listing what she wanted to keep and what she was going to give away and to whom.

When it all was done, she laid on her bed and cried.

I’m so sorry, Gabriel. I’m so very, very sorry.

For the first time in almost two years, Sophia let herself grieve.

Rio de Janeiro, Cajú. The Jewish Communal Cemetery.

Thursday, April 7th, 2010.

8.51 a.m.

The sun was hiding behind the weeping heavy clouds, as if they understood Sophia’s mood.

She stared at the small marble tombs in the front row and her heart broke, even more than it did when she had visited the cemetery with Gabriel many years ago. Now they reminded her of Alistair’s daughter.

Children shouldn’t die. Her throat closed. She didn’t understand why God would send little angels to earth only to take them back so quickly.

There were a couple of trees, here and there, a few vines and wisteria that graced the alley that lead to other tombs. That was all.

The general impression was of a deserted land where black and white marble were castigated by the inclement heat and rain all year long.

So different from the shaded green cemeteries in the United States and Europe. So... desolate. She looked at Felipe, with tears in her eyes, utterly lost in her pain, and whispered to him, “I don’t remember where it is.”

“I know.” His grip tightened around her waist.

Felipe would never forget his brother-in-law’s burial.

The raw pain and desperation he had seen in his sister’s eyes when they lowered Gabriel’s coffin made him shiver even now.

Sophia hadn’t screamed or cried. She hadn’t thrown herself over Gabriel’s coffin. She had stoically stood beside Gabriel’s grave, shrouded in black from head to toe. She had looked like a scary wraith, her long hair blowing in the wind and her black veil and dress billowing around her. All hope had left her.

Felipe glanced at the pouring sky, praying he would never again witness such brutal despair.

“Come on, sis. Let’s pay our respects,” he said, picking up two small rocks from a small pile.

Sophia looked back over her shoulder at Gabriel’s grave. The two lonely rocks on the white marble demonstrated that widowed were not those alive, but those who were dead.

The Gonçalves & Espírito Santo Families’ Penthouse.

11.11 a.m.

The warm water of the bath soothed Sophia’s body, but nothing could be done about the ache that resided in her heart. She shook her head and turned to rest her right cheek on her bent knees.

She felt swamped by an awful loneliness. No Gabriel. And no Alistair Connor. No one. This will be my path. Alone in the world.

After all those years, she was still baffled by her request to Gilberto.

And I thought I was avenging Gabriel. No, I wasn’t thinking at all. That was the problem. She had got it all wrong. The immorality of her act had festered inside her like a gangrenous wound and turned her into a guilty, walking automaton.

She knew Edward was right. No one could ever prove what she had done.

But Sophia decided that she had to confess and ask for forgiveness. Not only God’s, but from the families of the deceased men.

She hadn’t killed them. She hadn’t started the war, but she felt responsible for their deaths, even though she knew that eventually they would have been killed, just for trespassing on a rival drug lord’s territory.

Resolutely, she finished her bath, got dressed and sat at her desk, listing what she had to do to achieve her goal.

She grabbed the iPhone to talk to Edward. She knew he would try to dissuade her, but she would not give in, not this time. I will appeal to his common sense.

Her hand hesitated over the screen and she decided to call Dr. Kent first. Mina will understand and she’ll help me with a strategy to convince Edward.

She dialed her therapist’s phone number and left an urgent message on her voicemail.

Galewick Townhouse.

8.49 p.m.

He gulped down the rest of his whisky and surveyed the women at his sister’s surprise birthday party. He scowled. He was in no mood for parties, but he couldn’t have refused Elena’s invitation. He was going mad pondering over what Tavish had said. I shouldn’t have been so hasty. She was always telling me to take things slow.

During his brooding, Leonard had been saying something to him. Alistair sighed impatiently and drawled, “I beg your pardon?”

“I said that you look like you’ll start quoting Dante any minute. So, here,” Leonard took the glass of whisky from his hand and gave him a glass of water. “Either you start drinking water or go home. The kids are awake and I don’t want them to see their uncle drunk.”

“Water?” Alistair eyed the glass and snorted. “I’d rather kill myself. I need that bottle of whisky. And by the way, I do not spout quotes when I’m drunk.”

“You do. Even when you’re not drunk,” said Leonard. “In fact, you and Sophia spill quotes whenever possible. Machiavelli, Nietzsche, Dante.”

Just the mention of her name made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. “Oh, that. Aye. Maybe.”

“Your sister is appalled.” Leonard pushed the glass onto his lips and mocked, “Drink. There. Better.”

Tavish chuckled, “You’ll find another woman, quickly. One you can-”

“I. Don’t. Want. Another woman,” Alistair hissed through clenched teeth, “I want Sophia. Only Sophia will do.”

Leonard watched amazed as Alistair’s gaze surveyed the women in the room with disdain.

“There isn’t a woman that equals her. No one comes even close. She is special.”

“So don’t treat her like you did Heather,” Leonard said, throwing the truth in Alistair’s face.

His face darkened, “You speak out of turn, Leo.”

“Everyone does, but you, right, Alistair? You know, you should be less arrogant and conceited or you really will lose Sophia, forever.”

Alistair sighed deeply and drank the rest of the water. “I think I’d better go home. I don’t want to spoil Alice’s surprise party.”

Rio de Janeiro, Ipanema. Fasano Hotel, Fasano al Mare.

11 p.m.

“Could you bring us our check, please, Marcos,” Sophia asked the restaurant’s maître d’ and grabbed Ethan’s wrist when his hand delved inside his jacket for his wallet. “You are my guest today.”

What? Never. “Baby, no woman has ever paid a bill when I’m around. It’s not-”

“Let me be the first, then,” she smiled candidly at him.

“You are the first and only, Sophia.” He gave her a crooked smile, entwined his fingers with hers and purred, “I’ll let you do much more than that, darling.”

Sophia laughed, embarrassed. “Ethan, you are incorrigible. I thought we had decided to be just friends.”

The arrival of the maître d’ interrupted them.

Ethan looked around the stylish restaurant designed by Phillipe Starck, with comfortable leather armchairs arranged around Scandinavian wooden tables under splendid Murano chandeliers. The famous Ipanema beach sidewalk could be seen through the glass windows.

The low and polite conversation buzz spoke of money. Wealthy tourists mingled with Carioca’s tycoons and gorgeous, fashionable women.

“Cariocas are beautiful, aren’t they?” Sophia was studying Ethan as he examined the room.

To me, you are the only beautiful one. I have eyes for no one else. “Yes. Definitely. There’s something different. A certain... healthy air, even in older women.”

“It’s the beach and the weather,” Sophia mused as she put her credit card back in her Valentino black purse. “We walk around almost naked all year round. We have lots of open spaces to practice sports,” she shrugged. “Shall we go?”

Yes. Up to my room. He shifted in the armchair, sitting more comfortably, and cocked his head, with his azure eyes sparkling. “Do you want to come up to my suite for a night cap?”

Aren’t we insistent today? Sophia stifled a sigh and picked up her glass, swirling the rest of her wine in it and drinking it, gaining time. “Ethan-”

“I’ll behave. It’s still early. Just stay with me a bit longer,” he bent toward her, holding her right hand in his, squeezing it gently. “I like your company, Sophia.”

This time she sighed outloud. “I like yours too, Ethan. But I- I get the impression that we are not talking about the same thing.”

He raised her hand to his lips and looked at her. When he spoke, his breath caressed her skin. “I won’t lie: I want you. My love hasn’t diminished. But I prefer your friendship to nothing. I won’t jeopardize it. That I promise you.”

Sophia tilted her head to the side and bit her lip, unsure.

“Ah-ah.” He released her hand and cupped her chin, his thumb caressing the lip her teeth just released. “You mustn’t do that. Or I won’t answer for my actions.”

God! Seriously! “Ethan. Can I be frank?”

His fingers brushed her neck and he gripped her hand again. “Always.”

“When you tell me you still have feelings for me, and I keep accepting your invitations to go out, I- I feel like I’m leading you on. Like I’m an easy woman, a slut-”

His hand flew to her mouth and his eyes darkened, “Don’t ever refer to yourself like that again.” You’re Sophia, not Eve!

Sophia’s eyes widened at his harsh tone.

“Understood?” He commanded an answer. He needed an answer. “Understood, Sophia?”

She nodded and he took his hand away from her mouth. “I don’t want to hear you say those words again.” He flung his napkin on the table, raised and moved to help her stand. “Come with me. We can continue this upstairs.”

“Ethan-”

“I will not take no for an answer,” he murmured and put a firm hand on her waist, steering her to the lifts.

An awkward silence descended on them as they climbed to his suite and he paused to open his door.

Sophia stepped back from the door he held open for her. “Ethan-”

“Please. I’ll behave.” He stretched his hand and looked at her with serious eyes. “I give you my word.”

“Okay, then.” Dammit, Sophia. You should know better. She entered the living room of the suite and her eyes were immediately drawn to the king size bed that had been turned down for the night.

The door clicked shut behind her and she jumped in fright.

“Jesus, Sophia! I am not going to attack you,” Ethan walked stiffly to the white linen curtains that separated the bedroom from the living room and closed them. When he turned to look at her, his face was contorted with a painful expression. “Better now?”

She nodded, tight-lipped. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t feel comfortable in a hotel suite with him, a man she wasn’t dating. Her logic and reason had stayed on the other side of the door.

She swallowed hard, rooted to the ground, her eyes wide. Fear spurred her heartbeat, a physical response to the man who effortlessly took up every inch of the huge living room, the man whom she realized now, she barely knew anymore. She couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t harm her, as he had once before, or put her life in danger. He was six foot three, broad shouldered, fit and well built. What could she do, if he decided to have her?

Ethan approached her slowly, gauging her reaction. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

She tightened her grip on her fragile purse, nodded again and breathed deep, gathering her wits.

He noticed her rib cage expanding under the black leather dress and her breasts pushing on her cleavage. His hands itched to peel the sexy dress off her. Instead he caught her gently by the waist and pulled her closer, against his chest, an arm snaked around her back and a hand on her head.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured on her hair. “You have nothing to fear from me. I only want what’s best for you.”

He kept his hips away from her body concealing his arousal and there was no sexual innuendo in his embrace. Just tenderness. His hand stroked the length of her loose hair, soothing her fears, and he curled his fingers under her chin, lifting her face, “Do you want to go?”

“No.” The word was raspy. Sophia cleared her throat. “No. I think that we have to talk, Ethan. Really.”

Jesus, Sophia! He saw the determination on her face and knew that nothing good was coming from that talk. His arms fell to his side, defeated, and he moved to the Chinese lacquered bar. “Do you want something to drink?” She shook her head. “An espresso, perhaps?”

“Yes, please.”

He prepared two as she walked to the balcony, looking at Ipanema Beach. It had stopped raining. She slid the doors open and sat on the spacious and comfortable reclining chair outside.

He sat beside her, handing her the cup. They drank in silence and when he finished his coffee, he put his cup on the floor. He leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. His baritone voice was very low when he confessed, “I was devastated when we broke up. It was a rough time, Sophia. Then I decided it’d be easier to let it go. But it wasn’t. It isn’t. It’s awful,” he said vehemently. “And when I saw you at the airport, devastated too, I thought I had another chance. But you love him, don’t you?”

Sophia stood and went to the edge of the balcony, looking at the wonderful view. In one sweeping landscape, she could see all the way from the Dois Irmãos mountains to Arpoador. “You know, Ethan, I miss this city. This beautiful, beautiful city.” She turned to him. “I miss the Carioca happy way of living. My friends. My family. I miss it all. But... It was in this same city that I was robbed of happiness in the most savage way. So, I am not coming back unless for a brief visit, no matter my... saudades. No matter how much I miss it.”

He had put his chin on the palm of his hand and was drinking in her expressive face.

“Why am I telling you this? Because, it’s the same with us.” She sat again by his side and put a finger on his lips, when they opened. “Let me finish, please. This,” she motioned from her to him, “us, I mean, has nothing to do with Alistair MacCraig. It belonged to us and it’s going to stay only between us. I like you, Ethan. I do. But as a friend and a business partner. If you can’t understand and respect my decision... I’ll miss you, but this is it. The end.”

I will never let you go. Never. He closed his eyes so she wouldn’t see the resolve inside them. He said huskily, “You’ve got me, Sophia. The way you wish. Any way.” His hand gripped hers and tightened fractionally. “Can’t you feel that you command my will like I’ve never let anyone else do?”

Sophia sucked in a breath when he fixed her with his gaze.

“Sometimes,” he was watching her face with searing intensity, “I feel that I can hardly breathe without you.” His beautiful azure eyes revealed his inner turmoil. He was struggling with his emotions. “Your life is an asset, Sophia,” he whispered. “Be careful that your decisions don’t make you a liability.”

Are you threatening me? “You said you wanted what is best for me. I want the same. What is best for you. You need to move on. I’m not coming back to you, Ethan.”

That’s what you think. “I see,” he traced the ring on her finger. “Friends, then?” I’ll indulge you, Sophia. For now.

“Friends,” she answered, lifting from the reclining chair and taking out her iPhone from her purse to call her driver. “I must go. I have a full day tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you downstairs,” he said picking up the door card from the side table. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his navy trousers to avoid snatching her in a hard kiss. “When are you returning to London?”

“I don’t know. I’ haven’t decided yet. And you?”

I don’t know. “I’m returning to São Paulo tomorrow morning and I’ll be back in the evening. Do you have plans for the weekend?”

The elevator doors opened.

I have but I’m not telling you. “I’ll probably stay with my grandmother. I haven’t seen her since New Year’s.”

Ethan nodded. He splayed his hand possessively around her hip when he noticed male heads turning to look covetingly at her and enviously at him, when they walked past the hotel’s exclusive night club and along the white linen curtained corridor toward the hotel entrance. We make a perfect pair.

He accompanied her to her black Mercedes 600 Pullman Guard. Zareb was holding the door open for her, scanning the perimeter with hawk eyes.

Ethan kissed her on the cheek and stayed there watching her pull out, examining his thoughts.

From their first time together, he’d known Sophia would be his ruination.

After all the changes she had evoked in him, he barely recognized himself sometimes.

To get her back, he would do anything.

And he was willing to find out how far he would go.

Chapter 23

Alistair MacCraig’s Apartment.

Thursday, April 8th, 2010.

3.49 a.m.

Alistair tossed and turned in the bed. His depressed musings had been keeping him awake since Tuesday.

Aggravated, he switched on the light and flung his body out of the bed. He walked to his desk in the living room to search for his phone. He turned it on and scrolled for Sophia’s and Gabriela’s photos.

A long time passed while he caressed each photo and thought about what he was going to say to her when they finally met again.

He went back to bed and turned off the lamp on the bedside table. His desolated thoughts got worse in the dark. He exhaled slowly, expelling all the air from his lungs.

Half an hour later, he rose again and walked back to the living room. This time he turned on the TV and started to flip through the channels for something interesting to see. He had to find a diversion.

How is it possible to feel sickness from someone’s absence? He needed her gentle touch, drawing random designs on his chest as she fell asleep. Her soft lips kissing him good night and then good morning. He needed her.

He grabbed his cell phone again and started to text.

4.29 Alistair: Sophia, love. We have to talk. I can explain the things you found in my dressing room. Davidoff showed me what you researched on your computer. I’m not like that, I’m not that extreme. And I don’t need it, I need you. Please, call me.

4.35 Alistair: You’re breaking my heart, Sophia. You promised to take good care of it, remember? Don’t do this to me, please.

4.41 Alistair: I can’t live without you, mo chridhe. Please, call me. I love you.

He grimaced as two green ticks notified him that each of his WhatsApps had been delivered and read, but no response came.

He rose and went to bed, taking the phone with him.

I love you, Sophia. Was Alistair’s last thought before he finally closed his eyes for sleep.

Dr. Andrew Volk’s Office.

9.41 a.m.

“To feel lonely is to be overwhelmed by an unbearable feeling of separateness, at a very deep level. To some degree, it is a totally normal emotion, a part of growing up. Your loneliness, which has been caused by extraordinary circumstances, is somehow all your own fault. First your loss, then your lack of trust, your fear of entering another relationship and your numbness are the main causes of your feeling lonely,” Dr. Volk patiently waited for Alistair to reply.

“You’re right. I didn’t want to be tied down. I didn’t want anyone in my life again. I was more than lonely. And that’s the way I wished it to be. That’s what I deserved,” Alistair sighed. “Maybe it’s a cliché, but I felt lonely even in a crowd.”

“A cliché maybe, but it’s also painfully true. Someone who is constantly surrounded by people may still feel desperately lonely. I have many patients that seek my help for overwhelming feelings of loneliness and they have an active social life, a busy job, sometimes even a stable relationship and a family.”

“But then she appeared. As sunshine does after a storm.” Alistair’s eyes glazed with memories. “And suddenly my life wasn’t the same anymore. I tried to drag her into my long line of one-night stands. She resisted. I tried to push her away with-” He looked up at Doctor Volk and said bitterly, “I engaged her in bondage-dominant sex. Then, the next day, I assaulted her. She forgave me. She. Forgave. Me,” he repeated softly to himself looking down at his hands.

“Hmm. And that is wrong? Forgiveness?”

Alistair looked up and cleared his throat. “I don’t know. She persisted in the relationship. Finally, a few days ago, I tried to beat her with a crop.”

“And?”

Alistair told Dr. Volk how Sophia had been very determined to maintain her position and what she did to him after; how he had lost control and, for the first time in his life, had let a woman take charge in bed and how much he’d liked it. He told him how much he was hurting without Sophia.

“I’m glad.”

Alistair gave him a suffered look, “What for?”

“Because it shows that you are human. For once, you had a relationship that wasn’t ruled by you or your cold logic. And maybe Sophia brought it out in you. Maybe she makes you care enough to let go of Heather and your feelings of guilt. Also, I can fully understand why she left.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow.

Dr. Volk measured him with his eyes and his lips curled. “You’re not a small man. If I were a woman, I’d be scared. I wouldn’t like to be tied, handcuffed, or spanked by a man like you. She’s probably run to the end of the world.”

Run to the end of the world. Hah! Alistair willed the irritation from his face. “And what do you think I should do when I find her? I can’t live without her. And there is no doubt I’m going after her.” He stopped for a heartbeat before asking, “What should I say? What should I do?”

“Be human.” The good doctor smiled at Alistair’s frown. “Be yourself. Don’t be afraid to feel. Tell her the whole truth. That is what you want from her too, isn’t it? The truth?”

Veritas vos liberativ. Alistair laughed bitterly. “Well, Andrew, it seems it’s easier said than done.”

The doctor laughed. “Yep. But it frees.”

Alistair spoke of how he had imagined leading Sophia into a similar relationship as the one he had with Heather, but now on his terms. How each time he started trying to turn her on, he was the one turned on by something sexually naïve and common that she did. That each climax with her was better than the one before. That he was tuned to her and deep in love. And that he was sure Sophia was in love with him too, albeit he couldn’t understand why she didn’t declare her love out loud.

Finally, Alistair told Dr. Volk he was ready to be what Sophia wanted him to be.

The doctor slowly put his pencil inside his notebook, closed it and put it away on the side table. He turned to Alistair and staring into his eyes, he softly said, “Alistair, tell her all that you’ve been telling me here. The truth. The whole truth. Don’t embellish it; don’t omit or lie. And... and what is even more important. You have to start listening. Listen to what she has to tell you and listen to her silence.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow.

“Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words. Just because it is peaceful, it doesn’t mean it is still and void, as a few may think. It is insightful, powerful and full of meaning. It is when one can’t lie to oneself. You have to learn to listen to what she is not saying. Listen to her silence, Alistair. And listen to yours, too.”

In Alistair MacCraig’s BMW.

10.01 a.m.

Being away from her had only made Alistair crave Sophia all the more. He missed the scent of her hair, the feel of her satin skin under his fingertips, the way she called his name in a low cry just before she came, the sensation of her moving underneath him, with him.

He needed to hear her voice, her laughter. He needed her back, by his side, in his bed. He needed to know that she still wanted him. He needed to be inside her. He needed to make love to her like he needed air to breathe. He needed her.

Sex was his apple a day, and he needed it. He needed to show her not with words but with actions that he loved her, worshipped her, would do anything for her. That was the way he knew how to express his feelings.

But she didn’t seem to need him.

Certainly, she didn’t want him.

She had left him and she hadn’t answered any of his messages or calls.

I’m going mad, I’m sure. He picked up his iPhone and called Baptist. “Any news?” He tried to keep the strain out of his voice, but failed miserably.

“Mr. MacCraig, I was just about to call you. She’s just taken a flight to the end of the world,” he chuckled.

What the fuck? Another one making fun of my desperate situation. Alistair frowned, “Huh? I don’t pay you to be funny, I pay you for information, Baptist.” Alistair heard the investigator’s reply, his spirit returned. He touched the intercom. “Change of plans, Garrick. My place, please.”

“Thank you, Baptist. Send all the information you’ve gathered by email asap,” he said and tapped the screen, answering Tavish’s call. “Aye?”

“Where are you?” Tavish asked brusquely.

“Going home. I discovered where Sophia is.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Tavish disconnected.

Alistair shrugged at the screen and immediately called MacKeenan with a long list of orders.

Alistair MacCraig’s Apartment.

10.55 a.m.

His door bell rang insistently. Alistair opened his apartment door to look at his brother’s turbulent sea green eyes.

Tavish stalked into his brother’s living room without saying a word, determination stamped on his face and flung himself in the armchair.

He leered at his brother and said, “You look like crap, Alistair Connor.”

Alistair sighed, two full days of no information had done nothing, but make him more miserable. He knew there were huge shadows under his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping well. He hadn’t been sleeping at all. Now, if he wasn’t mistaken, Tavish was there to lecture him about Sophia.

“Thank you, Tavish Uilleam and good morning to you, too. Is there something else you wanted to say, other than to give me an update on my looks?”

“You did it again, didn’t you?”

Tavish’s turbulent personality was diametrically opposed to his own. Alistair could see he was angry and that he was spoiling for a fight. If Alistair didn’t control himself, they would be at each other’s throats in a few minutes.

“I beg your pardon?” What did I do now?

“I was in your office when Baptist’s email came through. It flashed on your computer screen.” Tavish’s lips curled up. “You should be more careful.”

“And what did you see?” Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Just a name and the fact that I had incoming email. No one has ever broken into my computer.” He fisted his hands, irritated. He had been estranged from Tavish ever since Heather had entered his life. After Sophia, they were beginning to get closer again, but at that exact moment Alistair’s patience was wearing thin.

Don’t go there again, Alistair Connor. He is your brother. Listen to him. Maybe he wants to tell you something important. Alistair grimaced as another thought complemented the first. Like he tried with Heather. Tavish Uilleam has good instincts. “You were telling me about my looks and Baptist.”

Tavish crossed his long legs and demanded, “I want to reread her letter.”

Alistair fished Sophia’s letter from his desk and handed it to Tavish, slouching in his armchair again. He sighed and watched Tavish glowering at the letter as he reread it. “Sophia is in Argentina.”

“I know,” he smirked. “I spoke to Sophia this morning.” Tavish dropped the bomb without warning.

“You-” he halted in the middle of his living room. “Come again?”

“I spoke to Sophia this morning,” he repeated slowly. “Around eight. She was worried about you.”

“She called you?” Alistair was openmouthed, jealousy gripping his heart, and he whispered, “What for?”

“She was worrying about you, at four o’clock in the morning Rio time. Can you believe it? Worrying. About. You.” Tavish shook his head, as if horrified by the thought.

He cursed under his breath. Tavish Uilleam, stay out of this. You think you’re the sole detainer of the truth- Stop, Alistair Connor. Just stop. He’s right and you know it. If you’d been more like your old self, Sophia wouldn’t have run away. But she ran away because she’s also keeping secrets from me. “Call her. I want to talk to her.” He closed his eyes and breathed twice before pleading, “Please.”

“I warned you, Alistair Connor. How many times? She doesn’t want to talk to you. She doesn’t want to see you.”

Alistair clenched his hands to control his temper. When Tavish rose from his chair and leisurely walked to the windows, standing with his hands on his back, he lost it.

“Fuck, Tavish Uilleam!” He punched the arm of his seat. “How. Is. She?”

Tavish slowly turned on his heels, so slowly that Alistair wanted to punch him and break his nose again.

“Sophia is unhappy. Confused. Lonely. Hurt,” he said. “You know, the typical things one feels when betrayed by someone one loves.”

“I didn’t betray her,” Alistair was astonished at his brother’s words.

“There are many forms of betrayal, Brother.” Tavish handed the letter back to Alistair taking a last look at the creamy sheets of paper filled with Sophia’s neat and feminine handwriting. He glared at his brother. “She is brokenhearted and confused. And she thinks she betrayed you. You lied, Alistair.”

Who would have guessed that Tavish and Sophia could form such a close friendship? Then a thought hit him. He wasn’t so sure it was only friendship. They have too much in common. They have lost too much, in a very similar way.

He shoved a hand into his hair and studied his brother’s face trying to understand, to perceive any kind of desire in it. He was a master at discovering other people’s feelings, but it seems that when it came to Sophia his senses were all jumbled. “She lied too. She equally betrayed me.”

“I’m sure, given her letter and everything we talked about, that Sophia hadn’t had the smallest inkling of what your preferences were,” said Tavish without acknowledging his brother’s answer. He opened his wallet and took a folded sheet of paper from it. “You left her in the dark. You lied. You betrayed her. It seems Sophia and I have the same opinion about moral and ethics. And, Alistair Connor, you’re so fucking lucky,” Tavish muttered and gave his brother the sheet of paper. “This is where Sophia is. The woman who is in love with you. Madly in love with you. If you so much as hurt a hair on her head, if you don’t marry this woman and be as happy as you should have been from the beginning... I am going to break your nose so bad, you’ll always remember what you lost when you look in the mirror.”

Alistair’s lips curled up. “You are right, you know? I lied, but I’m going to make it right.”

He turned and entered his bedroom to finish packing with Tavish Uilleam at his heels.

Chapter 24

Argentina, Tierra del Fuego, Ushuaia.

Los Cauquenes Resort & Spa.

Friday, April 9th, 2010.

9.01 a.m.

Alistair knew that all he wanted was waiting for him beyond the locked door. He breathed deep, willing some strength into his tired body. In spite of the sixteen hour flight and the four hour time difference, he’d only managed to sleep a few hours on the plane.

He knocked firmly on the large door and had to wait a long time before it opened. Zareb’s big body blocked the entrance.

“Good morning, Mr. MacCraig,” the bodyguard politely acknowledged Alistair, waiting for him to state his wishes.

Alistair mused that appearances could be deceiving. Zareb’s permanent wide smile hid an impressively alert and expeditious man.

Alistair drew himself up to his full height towering over the bodyguard, who smiled even widely seeing through Alistair’s posing.

“Good morning, Zareb. I would like to talk with Mrs. Leibowitz.” And I’m not budging from here until I do.

“I’ll handle this, Zareb,” a mellifluous male voice said from behind the broad bodyguard.

He instantly recognized Felipe, Sophia’s brother, as he stepped out of the suite and closed the door behind him.

Alistair cleared his throat, conscious of Felipe’s cautious gaze studying him from head to toe.

“Alistair Connor MacCraig, I presume,” Felipe stretched his hand with a small curl on his lips.

Aye. The bastard that scared your sister away. Alistair sagged inwards. “And you are Felipe Espírito Santo,” he replied.

“Guilty.” Felipe smiled as he shook Alistair’s hand. “How do you do?”

“How do you do?” He was looking at an older male version of Sophia. Come on, Alistair Connor, charm the guy. “I couldn’t have mistaken you for a second. You are Sophia’s twin.”

“I like to think that I am.” Felipe’s smile opened. “Sophia is still sleeping. Let’s get some coffee while Maria finishes dressing Gabriela.”

“I have no idea what Sophia told you,” Alistair said as he sat across from Felipe in the dining room with an incredible view of the large blue channel.

“She told me many things, but I’d rather you told me your version of the facts.”

“So, I’ll start from the beginning.” They have more in common than just their looks. Gazing distractedly into the Martial Mountains and its snowy peaks, Alistair quickly told him how he’d met Sophia, about their relationship, what had happened in the last few days and what his intentions were, omitting Sophia’s discovery in his dressing room.

“So,” he concluded, “it was more of a misunderstanding.”

Felipe keenly stared at Alistair, evaluating his words and weighing them against what he knew from Sophia. He knew there was a piece missing in the puzzle, but he couldn’t see what it was. Nonetheless, there was something innately protective and fierce about this huge man that made him give Alistair’s story some credit. “Let’s me be frank here, Alistair. I don’t know you, but I know my sister. We are very close. But for once, I know she is holding something back. Something very serious must have happened to make her flee like that. She is devastated, which means, to say the least, that she cares for you a lot and is suffering. However, all she told me was that she remembered the night of the kidnapping and that when you proposed, she got confused. I would have believed it if she had told me this on the phone, not in person, having come all the way down to Rio, right after your proposal. It doesn’t make sense.” His lips curled in a self-deprecating grimace. “I must look very gullible to you both. Do you want my help? Try telling me what she won’t.”

Perspicacious, aren’t you? You would use all your power to impede her from seeing me again. Alistair schooled his face as his mind concocted a half-truth. “That was all she told you? That she was confused by my proposal?” On his face, Alistair plastered a surprised look. Think, Alistair Connor. Think.

“Yeah.”

Just checking. Alistair’s relieved smile surfaced briefly, then he sobered. “She said she couldn’t burden me with her secrets and crimes. She left me for her own reasons. She had already said no to my proposal the day before. She thinks rather badly of herself.”

“Oh, no!” Felipe rolled his eyes heavenward, exactly like Sophia when she was irritated. “She’s not still saying she is a criminal, is she?”

“She is,” he said. I wish that were the whole truth.

“This is all my fault,” he muttered under his breath. “I put this idea in her mind. I was angry-” Felipe breathed deeply and took a firm decision. To an increasingly incredulous Alistair, Felipe explained the whole story of how the criminals had sent Sophia proof that Gabriel was still alive, about the financial help the Leibowitzes had given to the slum and the drug lord’s decision to disregard Sophia’s order not to kill them.

Alistair was speechless.

“I was shocked too. I couldn’t believe my gentle, gentle sister had asked for their fingers to be cut off. Things got of control. They were all killed, except for one who got away. She feels responsible for their deaths.”

“It’s neither here nor there.” He looked down at his plate, unable to eat anything else. I wish Heather had felt the same love for me. He looked at the scenery outside, feeling relieved by finally knowing Sophia’s secret. “I love her and the rest is absolutely irrelevant to me. It’s not something I could ever have guessed, but it’s not going to stop me from being with her.” If you only knew the dark secrets I keep, Felipe, they’re nothing compared to this. “Can it be traced back to her?”

“No,” Felipe shook his head. “There’s a pact of secrecy around it.”

“Good. I’m marrying her even if I have to spend all my life try-”

Something made him turn toward the door. Sophia.

He was still attuned to her.

But Alistair was not ready for his first glimpse of Sophia.

In the doorway, she had stopped dead in her tracks, white as the small patch of gauze that protected the stitches on her head.

The sight of her was a caresses on his sore heart. He let himself bask in her beauty. But there was also a sadness he hadn’t seen before. The light make up didn’t quite conceal the bruises on her left temple and the shadows under her eyes, and her raven hair loosely flowing around her accentuated her paleness. Her morning clothes were elegant, but her posture was despondent. Her faded blue jeans were baggy on her hips and thighs. She is not eating. Nor sleeping.

He noticed that her jeans were paired with a baby blue anorak with navy details opened to show an orange turtleneck sweater underneath.

He smiled. It is so like Sophia to dress colorfully. My private ray of sun. My Beauty.

He rose and everything happened at the same time.

Gabriela squealed delighted and ran in his direction.

Sophia swiftly gave an order to Maria and whirled around, almost running away from him, her heeled booties echoing in the quiet hotel.

Felipe turned and saw Sophia spinning on her heels. “Oh, damn!”

Gabriela flung herself into Alistair’s waiting open arms and hugged his neck, kissing his check, “Hi, Alistair. Hello!”

“Hello, Fairy. How are you?”

“I will talk to her.” Felipe raised from the table, as Gabriela chatted away and told him everything she’d been doing during the last few days.

10.38 a.m.

Felipe’s expression was one of guileless innocence. Alistair had proven his point to him and he transmitted it to Sophia the best way he could. But she was not budging from her position.

As a man who had been through what he had, he could relate to what Alistair was feeling. As a brother, all he wanted was Sophia to be happy. She deserved it more than anyone. He knew that if he wanted to convince his sister, he would have to pull the right strings.

“Sophia, when I told him about what you have done, he didn’t care-”

Sophia paled so suddenly that Felipe sat her down.

“Who gave you the right to tell him?” she asked hoarsely, shaking her head. “Felipe...” Tears filled her eyes and she put her face in her hands.

“Sis. You are making your mistake greater than it is. Making mistakes are part of being human. Learn from it and move on. You’re letting go a precious life lesson. Wisdom can only be learned the hard way.” He took her hands in his and made Sophia look at him. “My dear, you’re not perfect and, you know what? That’s a good thing.”

“I know,” she sighed forlornly. “I wish I could undo what I have done.”

“The past cannot be changed, but the future is yours. Don’t waste it trying to change the unchangeable.”

“Anyway, it was my secret to tell, not yours. Now, I’m even less ready to face him,” she shook her head in such an unhappy way, which told Felipe that she loved Alistair as much as he loved her.

“Sis, really, I think you are being too stubborn. He came all this way... To the end of the world!” Felipe mocked, hoping for one of Sophia’s smiles, but when her shoulders just sagged unhappily, he tried another approach. “Did you see Gabriela when she saw him? Did you see his face when he saw you? He is willing to wait for you. I mean, why not give yourselves another chance? Hear him out.”

Because I won’t be able to resist. That’s why. She sat on one of the reclining chairs on the veranda, watching her brother. I was counting on you to resist Alistair’s charms. Sophia could have sworn Felipe was impervious to all forms of influence. But I should have known better. Alistair Connor is the most charming man in the whole planet. “I need more time, Felipe.”

“Sophia,” he sat beside her. “I-”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Leibowitz,” Zareb interrupted Felipe. “Mr. Davidoff is in the adjoining room. He-.”

“Edward is here?” Sophia’s eyes rounded.

“Sophia!” Edward barreled through the door.

Yes. Definitely Edward is here. Sophia was aggravated. “How did you find me?”

“Hello to you too, love!” Edward bent and kissed Sophia’s cheeks and took a seat on the other reclining chair. He tsked twice and shook his blond head. “You look terrible.”

“What is everyone’s problem?” Sophia complained to the two men. “You keep pointing out my flaws.”

“Well,” Edward flashed her a naughty smile. “That’s the problem with beautiful perfectionist women. They have to live up to the high standards they set.”

Sophia smiled then. “How did you find me, you demanding, domineering CEO?”

“Oh, that? Easy, love.” Edward pointed to Sophia’s iPhone. “Your mobile. You used it to call your grandmother when you arrived yesterday. I had Mendes on the watch out for a clue. I took the first flight to Buenos Aires and the first connection here. Heavens, Sophia! Next time you flee, choose somewhere closer.”

Sophia’s laughter tinkled in the frigid Argentine air. “You’re impossible, Edward. Tell me the real reason you came to the end of the world.”

“I’m in love with you and I have to snatch you before MacCraig does.” Edward struggled to keep his face serious, but lost when Sophia laughed again.

His smile vanished from his face when he remembered his talk with Dr. Kent about Sophia’s ideas toward the criminals’ families. “Seriously, Sophia. We have to talk.”

What the fuck? Alistair was paralyzed by what he saw from the living room of Sophia’s suite. On the veranda, Edward was sitting next to Sophia. He had his arms around her protectively and he talked softly to her. His hand was caressing her hair and her head was resting on his shoulder. They make a stunning pair, even more amazing than Sophia and Ethan.

Edward’s white blond hair contrasted with Sophia’s raven black tresses; his strong features, a full mouth that oozed sensuality and the determination in his blue eyes where the perfect counterpoints to Sophia’s softness and innocence.

Jealousy kicked in. As if Ashford chasing her weren’t enough, I have competition from Davidoff too. And God knows who else.

“Sophia,” he spoke in his deep, low tone.

They raised their heads to look at him and he was struck by the look on their faces.

Sophia seemed even more haggard than before, if that were possible. Edward’s face was murderous and something else he couldn’t fathom.

Alistair felt a weird vulnerability wedge its way into his heart. He looked unsure at Felipe who was standing at his side with Gabriela in his arms.

Felipe just raised his brows and jutted his chin in Sophia’s direction.

Fuck, Alistair Connor. This is no time to hesitate.

“MacCraig.” Edward narrowed his eyes at Alistair.

Alistair narrowed his back at him. “You didn’t waste time finding her.”

“You were quicker than I was, I hear,” he retorted and then checked himself. Edward knew he shouldn’t pick a fight with Alistair. The man was Sophia’s love. Even if she didn’t want to acknowledge it. “I have her best interests at heart.”

“Ah... Indeed.” The tone of sarcasm was not lost on them, but Alistair realized too late he should have stayed silent as Sophia shook her head at his remark.

She scooted closer to Edward and put her right hand on his knee, squeezing it in such an intimate way that Alistair’s jealousy shot to its peak.

Edward bent his head and whispered to Sophia, “Forget this talk of being a criminal. You love him. Admit it.”

Unaware that Edward was pleading his case, Alistair forgot all about his vulnerability as determination to win Sophia overrun it. He straightened his spine, his hands clenched at his side, and his eyes darkened to a frightening expression. He stepped forward onto the veranda.

But still, there was no shortage of confidence in Edward as he stood up and walked toward Alistair. Pausing by his side, he murmured, “It’s your last chance. Hurt her again and you’re a dead man.”

He left the room with Felipe and Gabriela, shutting the door softly.

Christ! How have I never noticed this fierceness in Davidoff before?

Sophia looked drained. “I asked you not to come,” she said in a whisper, her eyes set on the mountains as if she were afraid of looking at him. “Why are you here?”

Because I can’t live without you. He sat by her side and took her hands in his. “Why were you crying?”

Because I can’t live without you. “I think I asked first,” she replied.

Time to use your persuasion skills, Alistair Connor. A grin slashed Alistair’s poker face. In spite of the fear inside him, just being near her made his heart soar. “Well, a little bird told me where you were. I cannot abide you leaving me. You, Sophia, you are my heart.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Why are you crying?” Please, Sophia, give me a clue. I need to know where to start.

She shook her head and tried to smile. Her lips just curled in a grimace. She shrugged, “PMS, possibly.”

He laughed. “Don’t lie.”

His laughter brought a small smile to her face, but she lowered her head and her hair curtained her face.

“Mo chridhe,” he murmured and squeezed her hand softly, “talk to me. I need to... Ah... Help me, Sophia! I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

Her lips parted in astonishment. The unflappable Alistair Connor MacCraig was at a loss, asking for her help.

“Exactly what I wrote in the letter,” she whispered and then added, “you haven’t let Heather go.”

“Sophia...” He looked at the angel he had tried to corrupt and felt worse than ever. What was I thinking?

“Alistair Connor... It’s not your fault,” she murmured. Well, not completely.

So, this is my last ace. He looked deep into her hazel eyes and confessed. “I know, Sophia. I know what you did.”

She looked down to hide her fear.

He was exquisitely gentle as he smoothed her hair and curled a lock behind her ear. “I don’t care if you asked for their fingers or if you ordered their deaths. I know it was wrong, but I have to say I admire your attitude. What happened to you is much more than a sane person can bear. And you are right here. Whole.” His lips curled in a ghost of a smile. “Not entirely sane, since you are still saying no to my proposal.”

That drew a small smile from her.

He dropped his forehead to hers and whispered, “A competent lawyer and entrepreneur. A gentle and charitable person. A beautiful woman. A loving mother. A wonderful companion. The woman I want to spend the rest of my days with.” Alistair felt as her resolve started to wane and his arms caged her tenderly and possessively.

Yours are magic words. How I wish it were that easy.

“I wouldn’t give a fuck even if you had asked for their heads,” he repeated. “Don’t let them destroy what we have. Don’t let them taint what you feel for me. I couldn’t stand that, for us to be so close to having it all, only to lose it because of them. You would only be letting them win. They have taken one man from you. Are you going to deliver me to their ghosts?”

She swallowed, feeling her rapid pulse beating under his index finger. Just the idea that someone could know the truth about her, not judge her and still love her left Sophia overwhelmed with relief and happiness. “You don’t really mean that.”

“Aye, I do. There is a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay, Renascence.” His eyes asked if she knew it and she shook her head. “You should read it. It speaks of the immense mystery of the universe, which is full of emotion, confusion, pain, sin. Everything that’s happened to us, let’s leave it in the past. We need to be reborn and have our second chance. The depth of our faith and the power of our love is being tested. We are not supposed to be flattened souls.” He looked into her eyes. His forest green eyes flashed and he breathed, “Do you love me, Sophia?” Say yes!

He saw as she blinked, unsure, and her ribcage expanded and deflated.

“Those things in your closet...” His hand was making Sophia remember sensations only he could make her feel. Memories came rushing back to her. The way he made her feel alive, happy, the pleasure he extracted from her body, and the bliss, endless bliss she found when she was beside him. She needed to put some distance between them to rationalize. Sophia disengaged her hand and rose, wincing at the pain on her back, as she forgot and leaned on it to push off the chair. What was I thinking when I tried it? She stood by the railing, looking at the calm, transparent waters of the channel lapping at the thin strip of rock and sand just below her suite.

Alistair noticed her careful movement. “Do you still hurt from the fall?”

Not just from the fall. I really must be going mad. “Yes,” she lied, dismissing his concern and gazed at the calming view. “I’ve taken some painkillers.”

“Sophia. Talk to me. I’m listening and I can explain all the things that I’m sure you can’t understand, even after the research you did.”

She started again, “The things in your closet; the, quote unquote, touch of pain and violence you asked for sometimes... I went to a sex shop. I googled the names of the things I saw there. Do you know what I found?” She raised her eyes to peer at him and hooded them again. “Dozens of shopping sites and lots of hardcore porn.” She shook her head. “I even looked up a case that my foundation dealt with recently and restudied it. I’ll never be able to fulfill your needs. Our marriage would be a shooting star. In some of the websites... there was blood and... some I couldn’t even bear to look. In others, you have to agree to terms and identify yourself to see their hardcore videos. They were disgus-” She swallowed a sob. I will not cry. I will not.

“Disgusting, I know. I saw. Davidoff gave me access to what you googled.” He rose and stood in front of her. His knuckles tenderly caressed her face. “But you should know by now that not everything you see on the internet is real.”

“No, it is not. Reality’s worse. My foundation had a real case where the woman almost died from spanking and whipping. She had to go to a psychiatric clinic for six months, because she couldn’t let go of her... Err... Preferences.” Her hand went to her throat, her breathing labored. “It was horrible. You told me you did some... perverted things. And that you liked it. I could never imagine... How can anyone feel pleasure by hurting, spanking, scarring and torturing others?”

“I never went that far. I had limits and I don’t do that kind of thing anymore.” He cupped her face to lift it, but she resisted. How can I explain? “Sophia, look at me.”

Sophia could not, dared not. She would succumb. She should have listened to Alice and Tavish when they had tried to warn her. She should have asked for a background check from Mendes like Edward wanted. Now, I, a warped woman, am helplessly in love with a warped man. It figures. “If you don’t do it anymore... why did you keep those things?”

“In the beginning, I thought I could convince you... I needed to test you.” Alistair threw a hand in his hair. “It’s difficult for me to explain this. I had to see how far you would go and, to be honest, I needed to test my own limits. But you drew a very firm line and... The day I decided I wanted to marry you, I threw away everything I thought you wouldn’t like. From my London apartment. I simply forgot to do the same at Airgead and Ells Hall. I will not deny that I like to have you under my control, blindfolded and strapped to our bed, and I like sex toys and a few slaps. I wouldn’t go much further than that. You liked it, too... Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” her voice was hoarse. Raw pain coursed through her veins just at the thought of losing him. “Surprisingly, yes. But let me stress this: I don’t like pain. I mean... A light, gentle slap can be arousing, but not spanking or whipping. Never that. How much further will you want to go? How much can I take before I lose it?” She sat on the chair and he sat in front to her. She looked down at their knees touching. “Pain has never been a turn-on for me. I’ll never share you with another and I’ll never have sex with another woman - or man - for your pleasure. For how long will you be satisfied with me and our vanilla sex?” she sneered at the term, bitterly. “And... There is my part in all of this as well. There is nothing I crave more than to be with you. However, I’ve concluded I don’t know you - I never did - and I assure you, you don’t know me either. I’m not an angel of purity. We’ll destroy each other in the long run. I’m sorry, Alistair Connor, but I truly meant good-bye.”

Alistair was stunned by the firmness of her words. He schooled his face to hide the pain that sliced his heart and the anger that was bubbling in his veins. Patience, Alistair Connor. Patience. If you want her, you have to persevere. He gripped her cold hand tightly between his warm ones.

“We have to talk, you can’t decide all this on your own,” he said sternly.

Oh, no? Sophia looked at him. He gave very little away with his poker face, but she was a lawyer, trained to notice body language and she could see that he was suffering. I hate this expression of yours. Show your feelings, dammit. This is not business. Then she scolded herself. Your problem Sophia is that you don’t know what you want. What would you do if he showed his feelings?

“I may be Mr. Hyde, but I’m not a monster who only gets pleasure from mutilating people. Some of the porn you watched was too hardcore. Even for me. I don’t do orgies. Oh, aye, I like sexy lingerie, high heels, short dresses, lace and leather. And I did a few threesomes. A lot of men do.”

Alistair’s tone was so serious that Sophia peeked at his face. It was drawn taught. She thought about questioning his statement about the threesomes, but let it go. It would do no good. The main issue was not his sexual preferences, but her sins. She had thought this over and had talked with Dr. Kent, her brother and Edward. She was also the one in the wrong.

He was discomfited by having to explain his ways.

He was aggravated by her resistance.

He was turned on by her presence, her soft skin under his fingers, her sweet smell invading his bloodstream.

“I like my women sated and pleased. Rather, my woman. You.” He squeezed her hand. “I did some things I’m not proud of, but it was like... snorting cocaine. Difficult to stop and it left you always needing more. Unfortunately, Heather was there to offer it to me. I was young, Sophia.” He raked his hand through his hair and Sophia’s hand itched to do the same. “No. Not young. I was an idiot. If I had the experience I have now, I would have never fallen for Heather. I would never have started a relationship so wretched that it scarred my soul. And then I carried on, because I needed to let out my deep anger. Against myself, against the women that were so eager to please me. Not anymore.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t like those things anymore?” she whispered, watching his face attentively.

“Aye. And much more, if you are willing to listen. The more I did it, the more I wanted. You were right, it debased me as much as I debased the women I spanked or whipped. I swear to you that I’m more than satisfied with my sexual life with you. If you say you don’t want to be blindfolded or tied anymore, I won’t do it. I don’t need it to feel pleasure with you, my love. I don’t like labels, but let me give names here. BDSM. The acronym comes from six terms.” He raised four fingers, spread apart, and joined them in pairs, “Bondage and discipline, the BD, dominance and submission, the DS, and sadism and masochism, the SM. It’s a... type of role-play, or lifestyle choice, like Heather’s and mine,” he shrugged sheepishly. “We- She used her painful experiences and my power over her to create, uh, sexual tension, pleasure, and release. However, just like with anything else, too much of a thing... It started to scratch me raw. It had a detrimental effect. Because she wanted more and more. More pain. More sex. More partners. Less limits. She was addicted and I became addicted too.”

“But...” She frowned and looked at him, “addiction is characterized by a, uh, impairment in behavioral control. It’s a deep craving. Something that takes away your ability to resist to what you are addicted. And it diminishes your capacity to recognize significant problems affecting one’s behavior and relationships.”

“You’ve just described the Alistair Connor before Sophia.”

“BSDM is-” Alistair opened his mouth to correct her but she waved it away. “Whatever. It’s considered a deviant sex practice and grounds for a sexual disorder diagnosis. It’s a crime.”

He raised his brows at her fierce accusation. “I think this is largely cultural. BDSM is certainly not everyone’s cup of tea, but I think it is unnecessarily vilified and made to seem more pathological than it really is. It defies conventional attitudes about the place of sex in relationships. BDSM is not only about sex or its intensity; It’s more of a lifestyle.”

“Are you telling me it’s acceptable? Oh, for God’s sake, Alistair Connor!”

He tilted his head to the side for a moment, looking for words. “Listen, before you give me your opinion. BDSM sex is unapologetic sex concerned with generating intense sensual experiences; it is sex for pleasure-”

“You have a strange definition of what is pleasurable,” she sneered.

Right. His lips quirked up amused for a split second.

“I’m a lawyer with experience in this field. You’re not going to convince me. The problem with this kind of sex is that the participants keep pushing the limits, they need stronger emotions after each step taken.”

You’re not so wrong. He looked away from her face. “It isn’t like this for everyone. You’re generalizing.”

“I had a case-”

“Sophia. I can bet that in this case, the guy was an abuser. He was probably a pseudo-dominant who was using his power over his submissive to mask an abusive relationship.”

“So, you are-”

He put a finger on her lips. “There is a considerable distinction between a dominant and an abuser. However in my case... you are right. It was an addiction. Heather couldn’t stop thinking about BDSM sex. And, to tell you the truth, when I tried to cut it back, when I tried to stop... I couldn’t. It was just as powerful and destructive as any other addiction.”

She was silent, waiting for his outburst she felt was coming.

“I started to be secretive about my relationship with her. There wasn’t intimacy, communication or trust between us anymore. I lost my friends and our relationship started to become troubled. I tried to justify my actions and when I couldn’t, I... abandoned myself. I lost touch with reality. I ignored my feelings.” His lips thinned and then the corners came down. “I felt guilty because she was always complaining that she felt rejected, that I wasn’t the same, or so she told me. She started to lie and keep secrets from me. When I discovered she’d cheated on me, I felt ashamed and a failure. She...”

“She abused you,” Sophia stated. “It was a relationship marked by abuse.”

“Aye. She did. But, normally, these relationships are not always about whips and pain. Without the power play and the pathological side, BDSM is something much more delicate and sexually sublime. You just have to tell me. You are more important to me than anything.”

I can’t falter. I can’t falter. She didn’t answer, turning her profile to him.

Fuck! Don’t do this to me, Sophia. I can’t live without you. “Look at me, Sophia.” She didn’t turn her head. He curled his fingers under her chin. “Please.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, she looked at him. “Don’t push me. We have unresolved issues and...” So many things we’ve never talked about. “I don’t really mind gentle slaps or some bondage, however... I believe sex should never involve pain or humiliation of the partner. That’s abuse.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment and whispered, “I agree.”

“I’ve researched and-”

“Sophia, I know you can’t really understand what I had with Heather. You can’t understand what losing Nathalie... in that horrendous way, did to me. I can tell you that it screwed with the little good that was left inside me. I became an abuser too. And I almost crossed the line with you too. I guess that Heather was the worst partner to be in this kind of relationship.” He sighed. “I tried to push you away when I realized that I was falling for you. I was afraid of loving again. Afraid that you might not return my strong feelings. I can’t live without you. I thought that I could walk away, but I can’t. I tried to convince myself that you’d be better off, if I weren’t a part of your life. But I can’t be so altruistic.”

She didn’t know how to respond, but her cold resolution melted at the obvious pain in his voice and the sincere look he gave her. His ready admittance that he had flaws, softened her resolve to say no.

“I want our relationship to be based on desire, pleasure and exultation. I don’t want it tarnished by disgust, guilt or torment. I have thought a lot. I’m sure it can be sensuous and enjoyable without the things you don’t like. I- You know that I’m an alpha. It’s just my personality. I need the control. I need to be in charge.”

Sophia was startled by his honesty. Warily, she said, “That’s what I’m saying. I cannot abide-”

He put a finger on her lips. “You’re not listening. I’m not talking about sex, about BDSM. Let’s forget about this label and let me put it in other words. There is one thing I can’t change about myself. I’m a leader. In every way. This is all about attitude.” He smiled down at her, pleading with his eyes. “Can you accept me as I am? A domineering caveman?”

I can and I do. Give me a few days, and I will say yes! I just can’t answer you right now. I don’t want you to know. She looked down avoiding answering him.

“Mo chridhe?”

How can I resist his charm? A small smile graced her lips and some of her sadness seeped away. She breathed more freely and his smell hit her fully. Sweet Vanille and hot Alistair Connor. The perfect combination.

She missed him. A lot.

“Answer me, Sophia. Can you accept me as I am? Do you love me?”

Oh, Christ! What did I do to deserve this stubborn wee lass? He almost smiled because it was written all over her face that she loved him. He raised his head and the hunger that flared in his eyes made heat pool in her belly.

I can’t, Alistair Connor, don’t push me. “I’m not the right woman for you.” Well, I am. But I need a few days.

“I think I should be the judge of that.” His thumb began to stroke the column of her neck and his gaze went to her mouth.

His heart stopped as he waited for her answer.

I do. She couldn’t confess. She was too frightened of what would happen if she did. “I’m sorry, Alistair Connor. My answer is still no,” she informed him firmly, finding strength from deep within. “I don’t believe in great changes. You are who you are. I am who I am.” Her head dropped and her hair curtained her face.

All right, Sophia.You have earned a few hours. He contained his impatience. “Sophia, you are an intelligent woman. I’ll email you some links for you to read about healthy kinky sex. And I expect you to do your homework.”

“Please, give me some space. Please,” she whispered, barely holding herself together. All she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and confess that she loved him.

“I will not go away, Sophia. I will not let you out of my sight. You are mine, do you understand? Mine.” Irritation ran under his smooth tones. He was angry with himself for not being able to convince her. And with her, for not giving in to the feelings that were begging to be freed. “Woman, you would try the patience of a saint.”

“You, as you have told me time and again,” she declared with a sneer, “are no saint, my lord.”

“A point you would do well to bear in mind. I’m not so easily discouraged, Sophia. Do you think you are going to dispatch me this easily? You are entirely wrong. I’m staying in the suite at the end of the corridor.”

“I am not dispatch-” Oh, Alistair Connor.

You love me. I can see that. Why are you keep me at bay? “I will see you at lunch. And you’d better eat. I don’t like a skinny woman.” Alistair had run out of patience. He needed to leave her before he threw her over his shoulder, locked her in his room and made love to her until she said yes. He walked away from her, fisting his hands to control his desire to hold her in his arms. Pausing in the middle of the room, he looked over his shoulder, “At least, Gabriela missed me.”

When he reached the door, Sophia whispered, “You’re a heartless, ruthless manipulator.”

He looked back over his shoulder and smiled triumphantly at her, “I always knew that was one of my finest qualities.”

She had planned to feign coldness and send him away before he could see how much she had missed him.

But Sophia knew she could not; would not.

She could not pretend to be impervious to the love she saw shining in his eyes. She would not.

For reasons only God knows she had changed something inside him.

And he had changed something inside her too.

Chapter 25

At the indoor pool of the hotel spa.

5.03 p.m.

A huge pane of glass, which separated the indoor from the outdoor section of the pool, let in the afternoon light as Alistair struggled for a rhythm, lap after lap. The automatic movements that always helped him empty his mind, that had always freed him from the memories that tormented him, were useless against the good memories flooding his mind. Even the water around him felt like Sophia’s smooth hands when she caressed his body under the shower.

The pool was too small to allow him the necessary tiredness. But that wasn’t all. He couldn’t get Sophia out of his head. He had noticed something strange in her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. A resignation that didn’t bode well. At least, not for his plans.

He dived under the separation to emerge on the outside and appreciate the outstanding view of the Patagonian landscape.

On the terrace surrounding the outdoor pool.

5.13 p.m.

Edward feigned horror and put his hand over his mouth. “So, now you know what I meant before, dominatrix.”

Sophia tenderly pushed a blond lock back from Edward’s forehead, running her fingers in his hair, feeling the silky touch of it on her fingers and tugged the ends, frowning teasingly at him, “I’m going to whip your hide everyday from now on, Edward.”

“Ah, mistress, you already do,” he mocked.

“Maybe I have to do it harder then,” she tugged his hair harder and then let it go, her nails grazing his nape. She sighed. “How can I be a dominatrix if he is a... dominant? A manipulator? A tyrant?”

“As if you weren’t as well, Sophia.” Edward smiled at her, “Well, I’ll partially agree with you. He is a consummate manipulator.”

Sophia’s lips twitched. “I was wondering whether you’d noticed.”

Sophia and Edward stopped their conversation, as Felipe approached, saying, “That jacuzzi looks good. Are you coming?” As Sophia shook her head, he took a seat beside her, looking at the steamy Jacuzzi with longing. “Have you decided to accept his proposal?”

Sophia sighed. “My answer is still no.”

“Let me tell you, Felipe,” Edward’s smile was impossibly naughty, “there’s precious little point in her trying to resist. Even if she weren’t already snared, he will do everything and anything he can to have her.”

“I’ve noticed that too.” Felipe chuckled as Sophia’s eyes rolled heavenward.

“Neither you, Sophia, nor Gabriela are able to resist his charms. You called him a tyrant. I don’t doubt he is,” Edward said, “but that’s probably just as well. You need someone to put you in your place. Now, if he wants to don his leather outfit and wield his whip to do it, that’s even better.” He put a hand over his heart and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Get the picture?”

Sophia gasped indignant.

Edward laughed as did Felipe, not knowing that Edward’s teasing spoke of truth.

“You are impossible, Edward. This is serious.”

“We are serious, Sis. No one, not even powerful Gabriel Leibowitz was able to completely dominate you. It wouldn’t be so bad if Alistair put you in your place, sometimes.”

Slowly, Sophia faced him, her eyes thin slits. “Let me tell you something, Brother. No one is going to put me in my place. I can be wooed and charmed. Dominated, never. Never.”

Felipe’s lips curled up, ”It’s almost the same thing.”

“It’s completely different!”

Edward sighed inwards. He understood what Felipe meant. He also knew Sophia was right. So he stood to put an end to what could be an unending discussion. “I’m going in the Jacuzzi. Are you coming?”

A movement in her peripheral vision made Sophia swallow her negative answer and forget about her surroundings.

Alistair’s sculpted torso appeared from the pool. He rose from the water, throwing his head back in a beautiful movement that made drops of water fly in the air and small rainbows appear as the sun shone through them.

Her mouth went dry. She had never seen a more sensuous and beautiful sight. She wanted to plunge her hands in his long wet hair, glide them down over his strong neck, broad shoulders, large chest and flat washboard stomach.

No. He doesn’t tempt me. Not at all.

She lowered her head and closed her eyes to the magnificent sight. You’re a liar, Sophia. You want this man with all your might! No, I-

“Join me.” The request came out like a command from his hoarse throat. Sophia did this to him. Just looking at her set him on fire.

Sophia opened her eyes and saw his bare feet almost touching hers in her H. Stern Havaianas. Her gaze wondered over his long, sinewy legs, hovering over his already semi hard arousal barely concealed by his Vilebrequin Moorea cut shorts.

Mmm. I want... Unconsciously, Sophia licked her lips. She wanted to be one of those pink Octopuses imprinted on his shorts.

Her eyes climbed up his tapered waist where she liked to dig her nails in while he thrust in her, lingering over his luscious dark-pink mouth and ending up in his wondrous emerald green eyes.

He stood rigidly before her, his expression inscrutable.

Sophia. If you keep eyeing me like I am edible, I am going to drag you to my room and indulge you. Alistair could see her mind working on her expressive face. She was debating whether she should run or not.

For a long moment, he simply held her gaze, his own veiled, impossible to read. Then he held out his hand and repeated, “Join me.” I want to hold your slick body in my arms in the water.

From the corner of her eye, Sophia noticed that Edward and Felipe had moved to the far corner of the terrace and were entering the jacuzzi, feigning blindness and deafness. She bit her lip as she toyed with her long hair draped over one shoulder. I can’t. You are going to be mad if you see what I have done.

Alistair tsked and his mouth softened fleetingly as he lowered his teeth on his own bottom lip.

“You know what that does to me. If you stop biting your lip, I promise not to bite.” His green gaze remained intense, focused on her face. “Join me.”

Her eyes locked on his, she released her lip and shook her head, saying in a throaty voice, “I’ve already showered.”

He laughed and bent to whisper on her lips, “Liar.” He took her left hand and made her stand up. He placed her hand on his chest, running it down and stopped at the band of his shorts. “You know you wouldn’t resist me.”

She tried to free her hand from his. He hesitated for a split second, before putting the tip of her index finger in his mouth and slowly, so very slowly drew it out. “I see you’re still using our commitment ring.”

Her fingers closed in a fist and she looked down at the Cartier ring on her right hand. He had branded her as his. “Oh, yes, force of habit,” she murmured. Damn, caught red handed.

As if you’d forgotten you were wearing the ring, Sophia. “You will not take it off,” he ordered.

Lord Tyrant. “Oh. No?” Sophia looked into his narrowed eyes, then mimicking his move, she narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m not yours to be ordered.”

Not yet, you mean. “You will be,” he stated, frowning down at her. “Come with me. I have to grab a towel. I’m all wet.” I want you wet with me.

She shot him a resigned glance. Immediately, his arm went around her back and his hand possessively gripped her waist. Even though his touch had not been rough, she flinched.

“I’m sorry. Are you still sore?” He scanned her face. “How are the stitches? I’m taking you to a doctor. Immediately.”

Change the subject. Quickly. “I cannot marry you, Alistair Connor.”

Spare me stubborn wee lasses. He frowned, forgetting her pain as a more pressing matter presented itself. “Why not?”

Distractedly, she twirled her raven hair around her right hand. “We are too different.”

Really? What excuse are you concocting now? His frown turned dark. He’d started walking inside, and without thinking, Sophia followed. Differences are good. “Would you care to point out our unresolved differences, please?” He paused to pick up a towel to put around his neck and one around his waist.

Sophia didn’t pay attention as she was trying to think of an answer and continued walking. Okay. Let’s try another approach. “You’re a despot, an unmitigated tyrant, utterly used to having your own-”

“Jesus. Christ.” His shocked and outraged gasp interrupted her.

She halted and looked over her shoulder. When she noticed that she’d turned her back to him and that it wasn’t covered by her long hair, it was too late.

Of course, he would see the marks under this sheer caftan. Of course, he would know instantly how I got them. She spun around, facing him, pushing her hair to cover her back. “It’s not what-”

“Fucking lie.” His muttered curse stopped whatever lame excuse she was planning on saying.

“My. Room. Now!” Alistair hissed at her and gripped Sophia’s hand, dragging her through the hotel corridor.

She didn’t try to stop him. His jaw was set and it made him look like a gargoyle, albeit a sexy one.

She sighed as she tried to keep up with his large strides. Oh. How am I going to explain this?

Alistair’s senior suite.

5.48 p.m.

He shut the door quietly behind him, but the soft click on the lock made Sophia tremble. “In the bedroom,” he directed her.

Oh my God. Where should I begin? She walked into the bedroom and turned her back to the balcony doors, avoiding his look.

Alistair stood frozen by the large door of the room, looking at her retreating back. He knew those marks. He wish he didn’t, but he could recognize welts like that instantly. He had seen them on Heather’s body more than once when they were joined by Emma, who liked to push the limits. Who did this to her? What the fuck is going on? He closed the double doors, which separated the bedroom from the rest of the suite.

Alistair’s glorious shoulders and pectorals were still glistening from the pool and the drops of water that fell from his long wet bangs.

Her mouth went dry at his sight and she immediately forgot why she was in his suite. She licked her lips and fisted her hands to prevent them from seeking his smooth and hard chest.

She made an effort to look away. If she kept staring at him, she would jump his bones then and there.

He glanced down and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Undress,” he ordered harshly. She looked at him with a scared look on her face, and he added with a softer voice, “Please.”

“Let me expla-”

“I won’t ask again, Sophia. If you don’t undress, I’ll do it for you.”

Oh? Damn you, Alistair Connor. Sophia stood, raising her chin. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”

“Sophia.” He stepped closer, so close that she could feel the heat of his body. “I will rip this transparent thing off your body-”

“Very well.” She drew in a fortifying breath and undid the ties on her caftan, pushing it off her shoulders. It fell to the ground in a pool of sheer silk, leaving her wearing only a red and white strapless swimsuit.

Alistair’s mind was bubbling with many emotions, questions and doubts. “Turn,” he ordered.

“Alistair Co-”

“TURN!”

She turned, facing the glass doors.

He cautiously pushed her hair away and lowered the swimsuit, baring her to the waist. He hissed through clench teeth in horror.

Sophia’s back was marked with yellowing welts. One of the longer ones crossed from her left side just above her waist to below her right shoulder blade.

“Sophia...” he whispered, astounded by the savagery apparent in the marks. “Who did this to you?”

“I-I did,” she answered so softly that he thought he’d misheard. “I bought a... A strange whip. A cat-something. And tried it... I mean, on myself. I needed to know if I could handle it. The pain, I-I mean.”

She was stammering. She was trembling. She knew. But she couldn’t stop herself.

He didn’t say a word, his eyes fixed on her bruised back.

She rambled on, “I thought of how strong you are. And I-I hit myself as yo-you would.”

Alistair choked, horrified as he’d never been in his whole life.

The anger that surged in him was visceral, a raw feeling directed at himself and fed by the loathsome memories of violence and his perverse behavior. I should have gotten rid of everything. I should never have introduced Sophia to this world.

He clenched his jaw with so much force that his teeth gnashed. He walked around her, searching for more marks, but found none.

The sight of Sophia’s bowed head, her long hair partly concealing her face, partly covering her arms and breasts made his anger disappear, replaced by a deep despair. “Why, Sophia? Tell me, why?” His voice sounded hollow.

She shrugged as she pulled her swimsuit up. “I needed to know what it was like,” she explained as she put on her caftan. “Where you would take me.”

She flung the doors of the balcony open and walked out, breathing in the cold fresh air.

Quietly, he followed her, feeling disoriented and unsettled.

She caught her breath as his hands gently rested on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Sophia.”

Sophia turned and looked up into the forest green eyes that she so loved. “I’m sorry too. It was stupid. I didn’t-”

“Nae,” he put a finger on her lips and shook his head. “I am sorry. So very sorry. What you did, what you experienced alone,” he shook his head, horrified, “it’s completely different from what a submissive experiences with her dominant. When a dominant inflicts pain it’s because the sub craves it. It’s like a runner’s high. The pain generates endorphins for those who like it.”

“I don’t like pain,” she whispered. “As I said a gentle slap or two is okay. But not this kind of pain.”

“Very well. That is a hard limit for you and I respect it. But let me explain one thing - and try to listen without labeling it. There are many ways of experiencing sex. We have already done role-playing more than once. Me, blindfolding and bonding you. You, wearing a French maid costume for me; and when you blindfolded me. What you call that?”

She searched his face for a clue, but found none. “Err... fulfilling our fantasies?”

“Aye, and that could be included in the category of light BDSM too. Although we didn’t plan or discuss it, or set safe-words or agreed on boundaries, many participants of kink would say that you have acted both as a submissive and as a dominatrix. With no pain involved.”

Sophia’s mouth fell open.

Alistair smiled at her reaction. “I ceded control to you when you blindfolded me. And you gave me control over you when you let me bind you.”

“But-but-”

“Have you looked at the links I sent you?”

“No,” she answered. “I should have, but...”

“Let’s do it together then. I should have told you what kind of role-play I enjoyed. We have lots of time to talk about this and we can negotiate our limits and boundaries. There are things I’d like to do, but if you don’t like them, I won’t even consider role-playing with you, because it will damage our trust in each other. It will damage our relationship and you in a harmful emotional way. And even if you agree to something and in the middle of a role-play decide that you don’t like it, I would immediately stop. Do you understand that, Sophia?” He searched her eyes as many emotions crossed her transparent face.

Not quite, but I can try. But let’s set some limits here. “So, let me see if I got this right. No pain, no humiliation, no abuse. If I say no, it’s no. If I agree to something, I can ask you to stop if I change my mind.”

Hmm. That’s it, Sophia! He nodded and controlled the naughty smile that threaten to split his lips. You and I will do great scenes together.

“But let me make myself clear here, Alistair Connor, I’m no submissive. I don’t like that label and I don’t like to be ordered around. In fact,” a naughty smile appeared on her face, “I’ll probably be ordering you around.”

We’ll see. He snorted but let her finish what she was saying.

“I can role-play, I can indulge in some previously agreed fantasies. It spices up the relationship. But that doesn’t mean that you can order me around.”

“Agreed. We’ll go through all those things together. I- I have to apologize for not being completely forthcoming with you from the beginning.” He locked his eyes on hers, for a full minute, hypnotizing her. “Let me make this right.”

Yes, please do. She raised a questioning eyebrow, “How?”

“Marry me. Let me love you for the rest of my life.”

Yes! “Y-” She stopped, uncertain. Dammit, Sophia, say yes!

For a heartbeat, Alistair was sure she would accept. “We have a standoff, it seems.”

“A standoff?”

“Indeed. You keeping saying no. I’ll keep saying yes. I can be as stubborn as you are. I have no intention of changing my mind.”

And I will capitulate. I’m not strong enough to keep you at bay. Sophia looked away.

Jaw clenched, Alistair walked to the dressing room and, an instant later, he was back behind Sophia. He caged her body inside his arms, bent his head and kissed her neck, nipping at her earlobe.

His movement caught her by surprise and she moaned incapable of holding back her pleasure.

“I love you, Sophia. Say yes,” he murmured in her ear, as his big warm hands squeezed her waist softly. Say yes. Say yes. He stepped closer, his warmth tantalizing.

She whirled in his arms. Sophia felt utterly conflicted. All she wanted to do was run away like a scared rabbit. But that was all she couldn’t do, as he held her under his spell.

She closed her eyes and parted her lips, inhaling a desperate mouthful of air. Before she could open her eyes, his lips took hers, commanding, demanding, ravaging her senses and his hand closed over her breast.

When he broke the kiss, the need to feel his mouth on hers again pulsed through every cell of her body and she leaned into him, consumed by the intensity of his gaze, unable to speak a single word.

All her reasons for saying no suddenly seemed so banal and incongruous. Yes, Alistair Connor! Yes!

Time stopped and Alistair waited as she mused, analyzing her feelings.

Yes, I love you.

Yes, I’ll marry you.

She opened her mouth to answer him, but no words left her mouth. She was paralyzed by the realization.

“Sit,” he pointed to the armchair and knelt on one knee when she sat down. He breathed deeply and took an old jewel box from his pocket, “I love you, Sophia.”

She breathed unsteadily. I love you too.

“I had this hidden in the picnic basket,” his voice was husky. “I had a whole speech rehearsed. But you said no...” He opened the box. “It was my mother’s. When I told my father I was going to propose, he suggested I give it to you. My father gave it to my mother when they married. It was her favorite ring.”

A twenty-six carat fancy deep grayish-blue pear shaped diamond set in white diamonds gleamed at her.

“It’s- It’s wonderful,” she murmured softly.

Hm. Good sign. You didn’t say no. Inwards he sighed relieved, watching her bosom rise and fall rapidly. “It is?” Now, say yes.

She nodded, gazing down at it. “I’ve never seen such a magnificent diamond.”

“It’s called ‘The Blue Teardrop’.” He smiled at her. “This ring reminds me of you.”

She shook her head and gave him a ghost of a smile, “No way.”

He smiled, feeling more confident and completely besotted. “You never believe me when I tell you that you saved me. You did, sweetheart. I was living inside a deep dark well where no sunshine ever reached me. I was an addict headed to my grave. I was living on the scraps of humanity. Only you were capable of rescuing me.” He entwined his fingers with hers. “A ring reflects a person’s personality. You, your soul and your feelings are as transparent as the white diamonds. The set is unique just like you. It’s classic, elegant and eternal, with a daring touch. As for the blue diamond... Blue is the color of hope and peace. You are my hope of peace. Blue is the sky. You are my safe haven. You are my private heaven. You, Sophia! Only you. I want a happily ever after, not like in a fairy tale, but as a real family that relies on love, trust and friendship to enjoy the good things life brings and to overcome the bad, together.”

She was speechless, her emotions tumbling over one another. She was so afraid. Every part of her wanted to say yes, but she didn’t know if she should. She wished he’d take over and answer for her, say what she wanted to say.

“I love you, Sophia.” He kissed her lips softly and buried his face in the hollow of her neck, inhaling her addictive scent.

One of his hands framed her face and the other pushed into her hair. His eyes were flaming as the intense emotions he was feeling swirled in them. “You saved me. You redeemed me. Since you left, I haven’t slept. I can’t work. I can’t live without you. When you said that you needed some time to think, you plunged a knife in my chest and left my heart bleeding, Sophia,” he whispered. “I felt you slipping through my fingers but I will never let you go. Never. You are mine, Sophia. My woman. My love.” He tilted her head back. “And I want you to be my wife. Marry me, Sophia.”

She felt like closing her eyes, but the passionate love that resounded in his green depths was too wondrous to not be enjoyed. Too precious to be thrown away. Too rare not to be treasured.

When Sophia married Gabriel she was barely a woman. She had loved him, yes, but with Alistair she had known a more mature love. Stronger, deeper.

She really looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. An epiphany hit her. This is what I’m going to lose if I say no. A passionate man that loves me and that I love like I have never loved before. A treasure. I have to trust this is going to work. Her hazel stare clashed with his emerald green one. It’s all a matter of trust.

This is your last chance, Sophia. He returned her stare, waiting. Oh. Christ, man! What are you saying? You know you will ask again and again until she accepts. The moment was suspended in air. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. Say yes!

Okay, Sophia, this is it. Suddenly, she could think no more, she knew what she felt.

Sophia mustered all her courage and cupped his jaw with her hand and whispered on his lips, “I love you, Alistair Connor, meu amor.”

A sudden light flooded his body and soul, pulverizing to dust the remaining shields he had built over the years, leaving him dazzled at the brightness of his feelings. He blinked, too startled to believe his ears.

I love you. Those three words were Alistair’s undoing. She loves me. She. Loves. Me.

He drew her gently into his arms and his lips closed over hers in a loving kiss. Alistair was all feeling.

Breaking the kiss, he breathlessly asked on her lips, with his eyes closed, “Say it again.”

“Eu te amo, Alistair Connor. I love you,” she murmured. “And... Yes... Heaven help me, us... I will marry you.”

Amen. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to shout it to the world. He opened his eyes and looked at her. My Beauty. Mine.

“Give me your hand, please,” he asked, as happy as he had ever been in his whole life. He gently held her hand and he could feel her pulse beating as unevenly as his. He took off the Cartier ring and slipped on his mother’s on her slim finger.

She held her hand up and watched the diamonds flash in the afternoon light. “It’s perfect,” she breathed, “as you are. I hope I’ll always be worthy of your mother’s memory.”

“You are and you will.” He stood and held out his hand, inviting her to join him.

He framed her face in his big hands and slowly dropped his head to kiss her. He let himself be surrounded by her familiar taste and her scent.

“Alistair Connor,” Sophia moaned, her arms encompassing his waist. How could I ever think of saying no? How could I ever think of living away from you? “Make love to me.”

In a heartbeat, their kiss changed from gentle to ravenous, her fingers tangled in his hair and his free hand found her breast.

Sophia had missed his lips, his hands. His touch sent a shock through her spine.

She wanted him to undress her, to rip her clothes off, to fling her on the bed and have his wicked way with her. Her hands untied her caftan.

But he would not let her have her way. He stopped her.

He wanted this to be good. Perfect. He would spend his whole life showing her how much he loved her.

One of his hand cupped her nape and slanted her head so he could have better access to her mouth, while the other caressed her breast.

Ever so gently, his hands lowered her caftan and swimsuit to her waist, baring her shoulders to his mouth.

The sheer material of her caftan floated down on to the floor, skimming her legs, sending jolts of awareness over her skin. The erotic sensation made her moan.

His green eyes flashed with lust and love, telling her exactly what he was feeling as he helped her out of the swimsuit.

The warmth of his chest scorched her, heightening the melting sensation that always came over her when he was in charge. The blood in her veins heated up to burning lava.

Sophia’s hands encompassed his neck, bringing him even closer, her breasts tickling his muscular chest. Softness and hardness. She slipped her tongue along his bottom lip and bit it, returning his soft kiss, drawing his hard body onto hers, inviting, inciting. She needed to quench her thirst; she needed to fill the void his absence had left.

He broke the kiss, to have a better look at her, running his fingers tenderly over her face, reconnecting, admiring.

For a moment that seemed to last forever, there was only the sound of their breathing and the thud of his heart, roaring in his ears. He had never felt this freedom, this unfettered happiness which he recognized for what it really was.

This is what so few find at the end of the rainbow. Bliss. Utter bliss. Undiluted, unconditional love. “I love you.”

The masculine smell of him overwhelmed her and his body called to her. His lips hovered over her face in a gentle caress, casting a spell over them. The pleasure his lips demanded from her coursed through Sophia’s veins. It snatched her up. It spiked her senses. It brought her home.

“Please,” she moaned and arched beneath his hand, her nipple had tightened to a firm bud. Incandescent fire spread through her veins.

“There is no hurry.”

“You always say that,” Sophia complained as his fingers stroked, gently kneading until his thumb and forefinger rolled her nipple.

He laughed, delighted and traced her jaw with his tongue, nibbling at her earlobe and whispered, “Slow is better.”

His mouth moved down her throat and to her collarbone, where he paused to take a small bite, in a sensuous and sinful caress that drew a loud moan from her.

She tugged on his hair, “Fast is good too.”

“Greedy, wanton woman,” he murmured on her lips. Hesitantly, he touched her back and she moaned softly on his lips, encouraging him and took his mouth in a deeper and lustful kiss.

He returned the kiss, but there was still restraint in him, as if he was unwilling to turn all of himself over to her.

Even as she hated it, she understood why he held back. Desire made her press harder onto his body, slanting her mouth against his, her nails grazing down his back till one hand cupped his butt and the other pressed down on his hard erection, trying to break the last bit of his control.

“Tell me you want me,” he asked. He needed to hear the words.

“I want you,” Sophia breathed as her hands slid inside his shorts. “I love you, Alistair Connor. I’m yours to take.”

The words were soft but unmistakable. Unbound pleasure erupted within him at her admission.

“And I’m yours,” he answered, just as softly.

He didn’t dare carry her in his arms afraid of hurting her back. Putting his hands on her waist and kissing her again, blindly he guided her to the bed.

She wanted him so badly, she was crazy with lust. She felt how hard he was for her when she pressed onto him.

Fuck. This is going to be awkward. He paused on the edge of the bed, took off his shorts and, with his hands on her hips, turned her away from him. Removing her hair from her back, he kissed the welts one by one.

He was touched by the lengths Sophia had gone to see if their relationship could work. What she did was a sign of her love for him. A sign he wanted to wipe away immediately, if he could. “I’m so sorry, Sophia.”

She turned. She didn’t want him to see the marks on her back.

“It’s doesn’t hurt that much,” she whispered on his lips as she pushed him onto the edge of the bed and straddled him.

He started kissing her anew, more decadently this time, running his tongue along her lips before moving to her throat, licking and biting lightly, letting her feel his arousal trapped between their stomachs.

“Yes!” Sophia gasped at the passionate way he touched her. This is my Alistair Connor. This is the man I love.

“You have such strong hands,” she whispered as he placed them on her hips.

“And you are so soft,” he whispered against her neck. “So fragile.”

“And you’re hard as a rock,” she replied, running her hands over his broad shoulders and down his muscular biceps.

He was an intriguing combination of silk and steel; she would never get enough. Sophia touched his face, holding it as she kissed him.

He grunted with deep masculine satisfaction as he made his way to a breast. He could feel she was as hungry for him as he was for her, but he was determined that this time would be all about her. He lapped and nibbled on her nipple and then took it all in his mouth, sucking it with hard tugs that reverberated between her thights.

“Alistair Connor.” His name left her lips in a husky moan when she lowered herself on his erection. Being with him felt so right, so perfect, she couldn’t imagine being any place else. She thrust her hands into his hair, entwining the silky long strands around her fingers. “I missed you.”

This is where I belong. He groaned possessively with delight as her tight walls sheathed him. He opened his eyes and looked down at her yellow diamond ones, “You are my private paradise.”

“And you are my pagan god,” she replied, bringing his head down to kiss him long and hard.

Alistair was resolved to conquer all of her, to make her so giddy with desire and passion she would never think about leaving him again.

“Yes,” she whispered and arched on his mouth as he licked his way to the other breast and she slowly moved up and down.

Alistair groaned in response as his hands gripped her hips, making her go faster. “Mine, Sophia. You are mine!”

“Ah. Yes,” Sophia cried.

He opened his eyes to look at her. He hardened even more at the sight of her raven hair spilling around her lightly tanned skin, her head thrown back in pleasure. Fuck, yes!

“Come with me. I’m close,” she demanded, lifting her hips higher and sinking down, riding him fast. “I’m-”

Suddenly, it was there.

Her internal muscles clamped around him, her hands gripped his hair hard, as a thrill rippled through her, making her come hard, screaming his name on his lips.

It was a call he could not resist.

They climaxed in unison as her moment triggered his and he plunged deep, holding her down for several moments as his orgasm overwhelmed all rational thought.

He collapsed back on the bed, taking her with him.

Sophia was too tired to move, to even open her eyes. Her bones felt as if they’d melted and every nerve was numb and relaxed.

He caressed her hair, grinning as relief roared through him and love swaggered in its wake. She is mine.

For a long time, they didn’t speak, merely held each other.

Alistair’s body was wrung out with physical satisfaction, his mind fogged and sluggish. But his heart was bursting with so much joy that he needed to voice his feelings, “I love you so much that I think I’m going mad.”

“If this is madness,” amusement could be heard in Sophia’s voice, “take me to the asylum.”

He chuckled and replied, “I don’t think I can make it right now. Maybe later.”

She laughed quietly, and the vibrations rippled through her body into his.

“I could stay here forever,” he added, almost to himself.

She lifted her head and gave him a mischievous look. “Forever? How many wicked plans do you have?”

You have no idea. “Did you really want me to never contact you, Sophia? Did you really think I would stay put and let you go?” he murmured.

“No. No,” she whispered on his lips, spreading gentle kisses on his face. “I was ashamed and afraid. Afraid of what you would think. Afraid that my dark secrets would poison you. Us. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you enough.”

“Promise me you’ll never do that again. Promise me you will trust me no matter what.”

“I do. I promise.”

She stood up and went to the bathroom, returning later with a moist towel for him.

He had already opened the coverlet and settled himself on the pillows. He wiggled his fingers at her.

She crawled over his body, sighing contented. Caressing his nipple with her finger, she whispered, “I love your chest.”

He threw the towel on the floor and smiled, asking teasingly, “Only my chest?”

She chuckled and her hand glided down over his flat abdomen and held his now flaccid penis in her hand, “This too. All of you.”

His smile just broadened as he stretched, sated and happy.

Should I ask? Courage, Sophia. “Alistair Connor?” Oh, God.

“Hmm?”

Her courage deserted her. Don’t spoil the mood, Sophia. Come up with something! “Well... I...” Quickly! “Hmm, now that I have you completely, I have a confession to make... My breasts are not original.”

Uh? He smiled, frowning amused at her, “Come again?”

She laid back and raised her right arm, showing him a faint scar under her armpit. “I breastfed Gabriela for eight months and, my, she was a hungry baby.” She half-smiled fond of the memories and, at the same time, saddened by them. “Afterwards, I had plastic surgery and put in implants.” It’s important. Say it.

His eyebrows rose high as he pushed up on an elbow to look at her. His hand held her breast, “Really? Mmm,” he smiled naughtily. “So, could you get bigger ones?”

“Maybe. Depends on your behavior,” she giggled nervously and hid her face again on his neck. Come on, Sophia.

He curled his fingers under her chin and lifted her face. “But that wasn’t what you were going to say, was it, Sophia?”

She bit her lip and shook her head, lowering her lids.

Oh, Christ! What comes next? “Look at me, Sophia. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

She raised on her elbow and looked up into his forest green eyes. “Kids,” the small word, softly whispered, was a glass breaking in the silent room.

Fuck. Fuck! “I see,” he breathed deeply and tried to sit, but she wouldn’t allow him to move.

“No. Don’t get away from me.” She combed his hair with her fingers while she explained her idea. “Listen to me. I’d love to have one more child. Maybe with a donor, maybe an adoption. I don’t really care. But I don’t want Gabriela to grow up as my only child. I need to know if you are okay with that.”

He concurred with a nonchalant, “Hm-hmm.”

Sophia felt empowered and decided to drop all her bombs. “And also...” she breathed deep. “Also, I want to continue living at Atwood House.”

He stiffened. He looked into her eyes for what seemed an unnervingly long moment. “How,” he inquired, his voice steely calm, “do you imagine I would feel living in the house you bought with Gabriel’s money? Knowing that our home was paid for by him?”

Instantly, she saw her mistake. She saw it in his darkened green eyes, in the pride that flashed in their depths.

She shifted closer to his warmth. “I... don’t know. It’s...” It’s because it would make me happy? Ugh! No, too selfish. Because it’s a beautiful house I built over many months of work? No. Worse. And stupid.

“Make an effort. Put yourself in my shoes.” His voice had dropped to a gravelly purr. Would you have moved in with me to where Heather had lived?

Inwardly cringing, Sophia cupped his face running her thumbs over his clenched jaw, which slightly softened at the caress. “It’s my money. I bought it. I did the refurbishment. Atwood House is my house, and Gabriela’s too. She loves it there. Her bedroom. The garden. The pond. Everything. You can make it our home. You can pay for all the expenses. You can make all the changes you want.” She felt as he gradually relaxed. “I want you-”

He put a finger on her lips and murmured, “I’ll think about it. With tender care.” I can’t deny you anything, can I? Besides, it’s not so unreasonable.

“Thanks.” She kissed his lips. “We have to tell Gabriela.”

“Mm-hmm. Later.” His finger tips trailed down her arm and he entwined his hands with hers. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered drowsily.

As Sophia closed her eyes in slumber, she knew that her heart was not hers anymore. After a few minutes, she was deeply asleep.

Alistair’s gaze roamed over her gently flushed face and her reddened lips. Caressing her slim back, he looked at the skyline. The sun was setting behind the snow capped mountains and the whole scenery was tinted in teeming colors almost as if a rainbow graced the entire sky.

Alistair’s heart beat lighter as he stared back at the woman sleeping on his chest.

For the first time in many years, he allowed himself to feel hope.

Chapter 26

Los Cauquenes Resort & Spa.

Saturday, April 10th, 2010.

9.35 a.m.

Alistair raised his eyebrows at Sophia’s and Gabriela’s small suitcases, which the bellboy was taking to their waiting car. “Is this it?”

She shrugged, “It was just a few days and I left my other clothes in Rio.”

“You’re a piece of work,” he whispered, shaking his head, amazed. “I have never seen a woman travel with so little. Are you sure you don’t have OCD?”

“As if you weren’t organized too,” she jutted her chin to his small luggage.

“I’m a man,” he said dismissively, as an explanation.

She sighed dramatically, “You’re incorrigible.”

He chuckled, “That’s why I’m marrying you.”

Right. I know. “Indeed,” she mocked.

Gabriela came down to meet them, bouncing lightly between Edward and Felipe. She was wearing a lovely pink wool dress with a white sash. Her long blonde hair was tied in pigtails and held by white silk ribbons. She threw herself in Alistair’s open arms.

“Good morning, Alistair.” She kissed and hugged him. “Are you looking forward to going to the beach?”

He smiled at her and put her back on the ground. “Only if you take me, Fairy.”

“I will. Promise.” She jogged to the car where Maria and Zareb were waiting.

“Ready for the jungle?” Edward asked Alistair.

“Good Lord, Edward. You’re going to scare him like that.” Felipe smacked his hand on his forehand. “Don’t listen to Edward. He-”

“Yes, don’t listen to him,” interrupted Sophia, her gaze distant. “In the jungle, you know the rules. In Brazil, you don’t.”

Rio de Janeiro, Ipanema. Fasano Hotel, Fitness Club.

12 p.m.

“WHAT?!” Ethan lost his composure for a split second. He smiled apologetically at the surprised woman on the other treadmill and pushed the stop button, getting off.

He accepted a towel from the personal trainer, drying his face and grabbed a bottle of water. He exited the fitness center, emerging by the rooftop infinity pool, and dropped into one of the comfortable reclining chairs. He lowered his tone, “Are you sure, Scott? When?”

He looked at Christ the Redeemer, the huge statue atop the Corcovado Mountain, when a sharp pain made his eyes tear. The view was lost on Ethan as he felt nauseated by Sophia’s betrayal.

She’s going to marry MacCraig. MacCraig.

The thought turned his stomach and he drew in a gulp of air. He ended the call after giving Scott some instructions and headed for his room with angry and firm steps.

London, Chiswick. The Ashford’s Mansion.

Friday, April 13th, 1979.

11.27 a.m.

Calista’s eyes popped open and she wriggled her perfect, small nose in disgust, when the childish giggles mingled with the zen music her brawny masseur had put on before he started.

“Relax.” Adam, her therapist, kneaded her shoulders more firmly.

She sighed and closed her azure eyes just to open them angrily when, five minutes later, Ethan’s piercing shriek followed his happy laughter.

“That’s it,” she said, sitting up, her lilting accent pronounced. “Adamos, call that horrible brat here. Now,” she ordered as she got down from the massage bed and put on her silk robe. “He can’t give me a moment’s peace.”

“Calista, honey-”

“NOW!”

Adam turned to obey, with a grimace on his lips. He hated to see the way that selfish, pampered and promiscuous woman treated her sweet, gentle son.

Calista paused in front of the full length mirror of her private rooms and tied the sash around her slim waist, observing her stunning figure. She turned her face from side to side and ran her hand over her neck and breasts. She smiled satisfied with what she saw.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?” she mocked her own image, picking a brush up from the vanity table and brushing her long black hair with vigorous strokes, thinking about her son. Her smile disappeared and she thinned her full lips.

“You called me, Mum?” Ethan’s innocent and eager voice made her turn from her own mesmerizing image.

In front of her was a lovely blond boy with her own azure eyes, perfect nose and strong features.

“For you, Mum.” Ethan was holding a bunch of red roses from the garden in his hands. At six, his still childish face already showed the signs of the handsome man he would become.

However, he was also a constant reminder of what Calista hated most in her life.

She had never wanted a child. She had never wished for married life. She wanted freedom and Ethan had chained her from the moment he had been conceived. To make things worse, he always looked at her with adoring and beguiling eyes.

She put the brush with a thud back on the table and he flinched.

She looked at the flowers with a rictus on her lips and, snatching them from his hands, threw the roses in the waste bin, saying, “Are you stupid? I’m allergic to flowers. Bring me diamonds next time.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Ethan lowered his head hiding the tears that invaded his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mum,” he whispered through the huge lump that blocked his throat, wringing his hands. “I’ll remember.”

“What were you doing screaming like that? You are disturb me.”

“Disturbing,” he corrected, unconsciously.

The sound of a slap rang in the room. “Shut up!” she hissed at her son in Greek. “SHUT. UP. You’re no better than me, you undeserving brat.”

“Calista,” Adam moved from his position at the threshold, shocked at the gratuitous violence, “he’s a child-”

She raised her perfect eyebrows at him, and ice coated her voice when she stated, “Child or no, he have to learn that this is not a fairy tale world.”

Child or not. He has to learn that this is not-

“Look at me, Aethon,” she was speaking again with her strong accent.

My name is Ethan. Not Aethon. I’m your son. Not your horse. He blinked his eyes at the beautiful woman that looked at him from such an enormous height. Too far for him to reach. The distance too great to find a way into her heart. “I’m sorry, Mum. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry is not enough! On the corner. At your knees. ‘Til I say so.”

In the corner. On your knees. In his mind, Ethan kept correcting the mistakes his mother made to stop the tears from falling as he walked to the corner of the room and knelt there, facing the wall. Why you never smile at me, Mum? Hug me, Mum. A kiss. Stroke my hair. What have I done so wrong?

Calista took off her robe and lay down naked on the massage bed, “I’m ready for you, Adamos.”

The masseur masked his disgust and controlled his anger as he put the small towels back in place over Calista’s breasts and hips. He eyed the little boy’s back with his head lowered. The slight trembling of his formal white shirt revealed how much he had been hurt.

Before she closed her eyes, Calista told Adam with a sneer in her voice, “He’ll never get a woman. Flowers! Imagine...”

Ethan counted the white stripes on the colored wallpaper of his mother’s room. I’m not going to cry. I am not.

Only later.

Only alone.

Fasano Hotel, Deluxe Suite.

Saturday, April 10th, 2010.

12.07 p.m.

Ethan yanked off his sweaty clothes and got in the cold water, not caring about the temperature of the shower.

The noise that burst agonizingly from his throat surprised him.

He never cried, much less sobbed. Since that fateful day he discovered Eve’s betrayal. He had promised himself he would never let a woman hurt him again.

But it was uncontrollable.

He dropped to his knees under the water and cried as if he were a child with his face in his hands.

He had been used all his life and then thrown away like spoilt goods, without a thought from the ones that were supposed to care for him.

He couldn’t believe Sophia was doing the same thing.

I am the one who brought you back to life, Sophia. I am the one who made you happy. You said so yourself. And you’re turning your back on me. Like all the others. Like all the others.

In his mind, Ethan concluded she didn’t care for the deep feelings he had for her.

He shouted out in pain and banged his fists on his thighs as he sobbed.

He was sure Alistair MacCraig was not the man for her.

The man is not trustworthy, Sophia. He’s a creep with unusual sexual preferences. He’ll make you suffer. You’re too innocent for the likes of him. I am the one for you. I am the only one you should love, Sophia.

What was left of his rational personality had been divided into two separate beings. Ethan felt torn apart, as two different sides coexisted inside his soul and fought for control, two parts of himself that he didn’t usually acknowledge.

His gentle side, which had survived the lies and abuse of his parents and grandfather, wanted Sophia to be happy with whomever she wished.

His confused and frustrated side, moulded by the constant bullying and lack of love, selfishly wanted Sophia all to himself.

Once again, Ethan had lost control of his life. He had failed himself.

After a long time, he rose and finished his shower, drying himself without looking in the mirror. He wrapped a towel around his lean waist and picked up the telephone, gazing at it absentmindedly for a moment before calling the concierge and turning to the mirror.

A cold smiling face with a raised eyebrow stared at him from inside the mirror.

“Good morning. Do you have round the clock CCTV surveillance?”

Rio de Janeiro, São Conrado. São Conrado Fashion Mall.

3.30 p.m.

Alistair immediately felt something was off when Sophia stopped and stiffened beside him. The hand he was holding became suddenly cold. He gazed at her.

She was pale and staring straight ahead at a couple that was coming in their direction.

“What is it?” he asked concerned.

Sophia was rooted to the ground and looked like she would faint. The bags with her new bikinis fell to the floor. Her hand flew to her mouth.

“Sophia?” He stepped in front of her. “Sophia?” He grabbed her right arm and shook it. “Who are they?”

“Get me out of here, please,” she whispered.

“Sophia!” A polite and cultured female voice, called, “É você, Sophia querida?”

Yes, it’s me. Sophia moaned and closed her eyes. Just the sight of the couple made her senses raw. Too late.

A blonde middle-aged woman, tastefully dressed, with startling beautiful blue eyes had stopped by their side.

Alistair looked over his shoulder. The man had halted a few feet away. He let go of Sophia’s arm, moved aside and brought her closer to him with an arm around her waist. She had turned even paler.

“Rose.” Sophia acknowledged the woman with a taut nod. “How are you?”

Alistair felt her shudder when she spoke the woman’s name.

Raising her chin and setting her shoulders back, Sophia made an elegant gesture in Alistair’s way. “May I present you the Marquis of Ells, Lord Alistair Connor Davenport MacCraig, my fiancé.”

Marquis? Lord? What the fuck? Who is this woman?

Looking at Alistair, she motioned to Rose with a dismissive flick of her wrist, “Lord Ells, this is Rose Leibowitz.”

Oh, fuck!

“Fiancé? Lo-lord?” The woman stuttered in a squeak, but quickly recovered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord,” she replied in perfect English and didn’t extended her hand, as he did not.

Without a smile, he nodded briefly. “How do you do, Mrs. Leibowitz?” It’s a displeasure to meet you.

“Sophia, querida-”

Dear? Dear, my ass. “In English, please, dear,” Sophia sneered.

“Of course, I’m sorry.” Rose looked at the old man who was waiting for her, uncertain. “Did Gabriela come with you? I would love to-”

“Rose.” The way Sophia growled the woman’s name sent chills down Alistair’s spine. “Gabriela is none of your business.”

“Sophia, my dear, there is no need to be discourteous,” Rose spoke in a low voice. “I just wished to see my granddaughter.” Her eyes darted again to the man, as if she were afraid of him.

A handsome face, a fit body, an arrogant stance. The hair that once might have been a striking blond mane was now white, combed back from his forehead. The old man approached them with a contemptuous look on his face he didn’t try to hide. The hate showed in his blue eyes. He didn’t greet Sophia or Alistair.

“Então-”

Rose’s hand on his arm prevented him from continuing. “In English, Alberto dear, Lord Ells probably doesn’t speak Portuguese.”

The man completely ignored Alistair and carried on in Portuguese, although he spoke English quite well. “So, you came back. I knew you wouldn’t succeed.” He inspected her, taking in her Valentino dress and Chanel purse and sandals and paused at her Rolex watch and engagement ring. At this last stunning piece, he raised his brows. “Have you already managed to irresponsibly destroy my son’s fortune?”

“Irresponsibly like the way you got him killed?” Sophia answered him in English. There was such wrath in her voice that it cracked like a whip.

Alistair’s hand tightened on Sophia’s waist.

The old man’s face turned ashen and his mouth thinned, but he didn’t defend himself as Alistair expected.

“No, Alberto,” Sophia bit out his name and smiled darkly at the man. “You have always underestimated me, haven’t you? I’m wealthier now, no thanks to you. Seems I have a knack for the oil business.” Her eyes narrowed and she glowered at him through slits. “In fact, you never liked me, did you?”

“Sophia, please, my dear, that’s not true,” Rose’s voice was a whisper.

“Where are you hiding our granddaughter?” Alberto raised his voice. “We have the right to see her.”

Sophia’s lenience had run out. When Gabriel was kidnapped and murdered, she was too desperate to think straight. Not now. Not anymore. She stood taller and stepped away from Alistair’s embrace and flung her hair back.

Sophia, seething, poked a finger on Alberto’s chest. “Let me tell you something, Al-ber-to. You don’t deserve my respect any more. You killed your own son. What you did to Gabriela, and also to me, was heinous. You are a horrible person. You taint Gabriel’s memory.”

Alberto Leibowitz was speechless. Sophia had always been so sweet, polite and respectful.

“And, you.” She spun to face Rose, her eyes blazing, and hissed between clenched teeth, “You, Rose, how could you? Your only child. You could have paid the ransom and prevented your son’s death. You’re so pathetically weak! You let Alberto do whatever he wants. You are as guilty of Gabriel’s death as your bloody damned husband. I despise you.” She faced the couple so enraged, a taste of blood so strong in her mouth, that she charged on without thinking, unleashing all the pain and hatred that had been bottled up for years. “You want to see Gabriela? To take her away from me again? Do you think I’m stupid? You’re not going anywhere near her. Ever again. She’s afraid of you. She hates you.”

Rose sobbed brokenly. That took Alberto Leibowitz out of his speechless state and he charged toward Sophia, “You filthy bitch.”

As his hand moved to slap Sophia’s face, Alistair’s rose, catching and crushing the old man’s wrist. Despite Alberto speaking in Portuguese, Alistair was able to understand the feelings being spat out.

“Enough!” he roared and wrung Alberto’s wrist, holding back on his desire to break it. “Don’t you dare speak to my future wife like that.” He released Alberto’s hand with a shove and bent down to pick up Sophia’s bags from the floor. “I’ve had enough of you for a lifetime.”

Alberto staggered back. “You’re going to pay for this, Sophia. Mark my words. I won’t rest until I destroy you and have Gabriela back where she belongs.”

“A lost war before it even started, Alberto,” Sophia answered unfazed.

“Let’s go, Sophia,” Alistair said at the same time that Rose pleaded, in a hurtful sob, “Sophia, please, I need to see Gabriela. She is the only reminder I have of my son.”

“You should have thought of that when you let Gabriel die.” Sophia looked at Rose with contempt and turned to go. “Good-Bye, Rose. I hope one day you free yourself of your self-imposed enslavement. You are too young to wander around like the living-dead.”

Alistair enfolded Sophia in his arms and towed her away.

Alberto shouted, “I will make you pay for this, Sophia. I’ll see to it.”

Alistair didn’t stop, but looked back once. Rose was crying, her head hung and Alberto was glowering at Sophia with so much hate in his eyes that a bad feeling entered Alistair. Christ!

Some feet away, he paused and looked down at Sophia’s white face, “You okay?”

“No.” She breathed deep. “I’m sorry I made a scene. I wasn’t prepared... I never thought I’d meet them again. They don’t live here. In Rio, I mean.” She put a hand on her head. “Would you mind heading back to the hotel? I’m not feeling well.”

“Of course not.” There was a murderous look on his face. “I lost my appetite.”

“I’m so sorry, Alistair. On your first day in Rio. It wasn’t supposed to-”

“No more apologies. I should have taken that son of a bitch out.” He felt her melting against his chest, her arm snaking around his waist.

Sophia raised her head to look at his eyes, a ghost of a smile on her face. “I might have liked that, my Highland warrior.”

“Want me to go back?” he smiled down at her.

She snorted. A strange light appeared on her face. “Don’t tempt me, I might say yes.” Her smile waned, “No, he deserves worse.”

Her eyes were burning with an emotion he could not identify at first.

Christ, no! It was there again. The mad look he saw in her eyes when she told him why she asked for the kidnappers’ fingers. The avenging angel.

Alistair suddenly became worried. “Sophia, don’t go there. Please, promise me you won’t do anything extreme.”

“Ask for his finger? No. I’m past that. Besides, it would be too kind.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “He deserves to suffer each and every day of the rest of his life and then rot in hell.”

“You have to let go, Sophia. Revenge won’t bring Gabriel back.” Fuck. Gabriel holds such an important part of her heart.

Her hand clenched on his back but she didn’t utter a word.

Alistair ran his fingers softly over her creased forehead and narrowed eyes. “Relax. Let’s go back to the hotel so you can rest. We have your grandmother’s dinner tonight.”

The Gonçalves & Espirito Santo Families’ Penthouse.

8.43 p.m.

“Ready to enter the lions’ den?” Sophia asked Alistair, smiling.

“Are they going to eat me alive?”

“They might...” she joked. And rang the bell of her grandmother’s penthouse.

“Sophia!” A short thin old woman dressed in an elegant black dress flung the double doors wide. She opened her arms, hugged Sophia and launched into a string of questions in Portuguese.

Sophia laughed and answered her, hugging her back.

“Alistair, may I have the honor to introduce you to my grandmother, Angelica Gonçalves,” she said in English and lowered her voice to a mocking whisper, “be careful around her, she puts spells in her food.” Angelica and Sophia laughed. And again she lowered her voice to a whisper, “And you be careful too, he’s a powerful Highland warrior.”

He so loved the idea of being her Highlander. Alistair chuckled inwards as he flashed her grandmother his most charming smile.

“Warrior or not, if you don’t treat my little Sophia well, you are going to have an appointment with my rolling pin,” Angelica eyed him, unabashedly taking full measure of him, struggling for a stern look that melted in a huge smile.

“Grandma makes the most delicious pastries you have ever tasted. We used to make scrumptious treats together.” Sophia turned back to her grandmother and could see that she was captivated by Alistair. “Tell me you’ve made something delicious for tonight’s dessert. I’ve been a good girl.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Mrs. Gonçalves. Sophia talks about you a lot.”

“Oh, I hope she has told you only good things. Please, call me Angelica. Mrs. Gonçalves is too formal.” Sophia’s grandmother smiled at him, framed his face in her hands and kissed his cheeks, then hugged him. “Welcome.”

Alistair was startled and Angelica’s blue eyes twinkled.

Sophia laughed. “We are very informal, Alistair. Get used to being kissed, hugged and slapped on the back by people you have just met. Carolina is the only reserved one of the family. She is our English side.”

“I’m not. You all are savages.” A young tall woman wearing glasses, dressed in a sleeveless light-blue dress, with her dark brown hair floating around her, appeared in the hallway they had just entered. She gracefully stood on her tiptoes and again Alistair received two kisses, but this time more contained. “Carolina, or just Carol.”

Gabriela came running, her blonde hair dancing around her and threw herself in Alistair’s arms, hugging and kissing him as he picked her up. “Alistair!”

“Hello, Fairy.” He returned the kisses and buried his nose on her neck, inhaling deep. Alistair loved Gabriela’s delicate baby smell.

“I missed you today. I went to the pool. Look how tanned I am.” She extended her arms, showing her supposedly tanned skin.

“I can see you enjoyed your day, Gabriela. You don’t even remember that you have a mother anymore.” Sophia said and the little girl turned serious.

“I’m sorry, Mama. Good evening,” she said composed, then started giggling again. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, love,” Sophia smiled, standing on her tiptoes to kiss her daughter. “So you had fun with your aunt?” She pushed the door to a huge square room, all done in soft pastel colors with modern paintings hanging on the wall.

“Yes, she had. Almost drove Grandma crazy. Too much energy,” said Carol, seriously.

“Oh! She didn’t! She was just being a child. You are too protective.” Angelica huffed from behind. “Would you believe, Sophia, that Carol asked me to go rest, in the middle of the afternoon, with the false pretense that the beach had tired me? I’m sure that she wanted to have Gabriela for herself.”

“Oh, no, my little niece is in trouble again.” A mellifluous voice came from behind them.

Sophia and Alistair spun around.

Sophia’s smile opened wide and she threw herself in Felipe’s arms. He was informally dressed, wearing a light-pink shirt, with its long sleeves rolled up and navy slacks. He laughed, kissed and hugged her. He smiled and extended his hand to Alistair, “Nice to see you again, Alistair. How are you?”

“Please, let’s sit. We are waiting for Carolina’s err...” Angelica looked at Carolina.

“Fiancé,” Felipe snorted.

“You are engaged, Carol? Congratulations.” Sophia hugged her sister. “I didn’t know.”

“Seems they decided it last night,” Felipe explained, thinning his lips. “He’s finished filming the scenes here and he wants Carolina to move with him to Hollywood.”

“You’re moving?” Sophia was astonished. “You?”

“Why not?” she asked defensively. “You, Valentina and Victoria did. Why not me?”

“Yes, why not?” Felipe derided.

Angelica tactfully changed the subject, as she rose and took Alistair by the arm, commanding everyone to the veranda, asking Alistair about his family.

When Drake Westwood entered the living room, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses, for the first time in the evening, Carolina really smiled. She pushed from the rail of the balcony, where she was eagerly watching the door and walked swiftly to receive him.

He dipped her over one arm and kissed her as if they were alone in the room. He gave her the flowers and she threw her arms around his neck. He hugged and kissed her again.

“See what I meant?” Felipe was scowling.

“Oh, Felipe,” Sophia, who was eyeing the scene raptly, sighed with longing. “We had our time, too, remember?”

Had?! What she meant by ‘had’? “Had?” Alistair murmured in her ear.

She explained, startled. “It’s Carol’s first real boyfriend,” she said, looking up at his face. “It’s... first love. I mean... It’s not the same.”

Oh. Is not? How is it for you, then? “Nae?” A hurt look appeared on his face and he stepped further back into the shadows and stayed there looking at the waning crescent moon partially obscured by the rainy clouds.

Oh, Alistair Connor. “It’s not-” Sophia’s apology and explanation were interrupted by Drake’s presence on the balcony.

Thomas Drake Westwood was not what one would expect from a Hollywood movie director. He looked like an elegant Al Capone. He even had the cigars, which could be seen in a special leather pouch in his tweed jacket pocket. He was tall and lean but not handsome or muscular. His brown hair was receding and thinning. Nonetheless, all in all, Drake had flair and a commanding presence. His clothes were expensive but understated. However, what truly called one’s attention were his eagle sharp brown eyes. Eyes that scanned a person and discovered their most private wishes. Eyes that offered fulfillment of these secrets.

He flashed a smile at Angelica, who stretched her hand to him. He kissed it with a flourish.

“This is my great-granddaughter, Gabriela,” Angelica introduced the girl to him.

He picked Gabriela up in his arms with a flourish and exclaimed, “A fairy!”

Gabriela’s mouth formed a big O, before she tilted her head to the side and asked intrigued, “How do you know?”

“I am a magician. After dinner, I’m going to make you disappear!” He kissed the wide-eyed little girl and put her back on the floor, advancing purposely toward Felipe.

“Felipe, my friend, how are you?” Drake slapped him on the back.

Felipe grimaced at Sophia over the man’s shoulder, who, in turn, giggled.

At the lilting sound, Drake turned slowly to look at her, taking in her presence for the first time. His dark eyes sparkled when he saw her standing under the light, her one shoulder red top hugging her figure and the leather black miniskirt revealing her long, beautiful legs. A wolfish smile appeared on his features and he appraised her from head to toe.

“Where have you been hiding?” He grinned at Sophia.

“This is my sister, Sophia. Sophia, this is Carol’s fiancé, Thomas Drake Westwood,” Felipe introduced.

“Drake to my friends.”

He leaned in to kiss her, but Alistair’s arm snatched her by the waist, pulling her back to his body.

Drake straightened up and craned his neck to look up at Alistair’s face.

“This is the future Marchioness of Ells, my fiancée.” Let’s set boundaries here. Alistair towered over the much shorter man. “I’m Alistair Connor MacCraig, the Marquis of Ells and CEO of The City of London Bank, among other things.” He stretched his hand, keeping Sophia out of Drake’s reach.

Felipe’s forehead furrowed and he looked at Sophia, who discreetly lifted a shoulder, smiling at Alistair’s immediate reaction.

Lord Caveman is staking his claim. Let him.

Drake didn’t even blink and put his hand in Alistair’s, letting it linger there. “A pleasure, milord. Congratulations on your engagement.” His stare moved from Alistair to Sophia as he inspected them both with the same boldness. In a hoarse, intimate voice, he said, “You make a breathtaking couple.”

“Indeed,” Alistair answered drily and quirked one black eyebrow, snatching his hand from Drake’s grip. This man’s gaze is unpleasant. Alistair’s countenance darkened. How dare he look at Sophia like that?

Carolina exiting the kitchen, carrying a huge crystal vase with the roses and announcing dinner was served, distracted him from his unpleasant thoughts.

“So, Sophia, have you and Alistair set a date yet?” Angelica asked from the head of the table, after making a toast to them and to Carolina and Drake.

“Not yet, Grand-”

“August the seventh, at Airgead Caisteal,” Gabriela interrupted.

Sophia lost her breath. “What?”

Chapter 27

“It was supposed to be a surprise, Fairy, remember?” Alistair groaned inwardly as Sophia’s head popped up.

Gabriela’s blue eyes widened, “Oops. Sorry.”

He shook his head and crossed his arms, but a huge grin belied his stern stance.

“I beg your pardon?” Sophia was staring at him, surprised. How dare he?

“August the seventh, at Airgead Caisteal,” he repeated Gabriela’s words, flashing her a bright smile, his emerald eyes shining with love.

“I heard what she said. First of all, August the seventh is too soon. Second, Airgead is too far away and I’ve never even been there. Third... Third...”

Alistair didn’t let her come up with another new excuse. “This can be easily remedied. The staff will help you put the wedding together in less than a month. They do this all the time. It’s the best time of the year to be on the West coast of Scotland. And Airgead is wonderful.”

“Staff?” Angelica asked.

“Airgead Caisteal is an exclusive five star resort and spa,” Alistair explained.

“And what is the average temperature during the best time of the year in the Highlands?” Drake jeered at Sophia.

Alistair quirked an eyebrow at the mocking grin. “Fairly good. Much nicer than the hot summers in California.”

“I prefer something smaller. Just family. Maybe a small lunch at our house, in December,” Sophia almost begged.

“No. It’s going to be perfect.” He shook his head. “Imagine... We’ll have the castle to ourselves. At this time of the year it’s closed to the public for two weeks, from July the twenty-sixth to August ninth. Lovely warm weather and the grounds all to us and our guests. A reception for... four hundred, give or take.” He looked at Sophia’s grandmother, smiling. “I’m proud to be marrying your granddaughter. I’ll be eager to show her off on my arm all in white.”

“Have you gone insane?” Sophia gasped, astonished. “White? I’m a widow.” She shook her head. “Four hundred people? No way, Alistair Connor.”

“Alistair said I could be the flower girl,” Gabriela beamed, almost jumping on her chair. “Can I choose my dress? Can I, Mama?”

Sophia looked at her daughter’s happy face, but found no voice to answer her.

Alistair, excitedly, launched into an explanation of his ideas. “We can receive all the international guests with a dinner at Atwood House and Alice can plan a weekend at Galewick Hall. For the wedding, we can have a round of parties starting on Thursday, with a dinner at Tavish Uilleam’s property, Dryad Manor, a lunch on Friday with a riding tournament at Craigdale Castle, my Father’s home. They are all close, within forty-five minutes of each other. Just a couple of minutes in the chopper. And they will also be shut during that period.”

His green eyes sparkled with joy. He released the silverware he was holding, turned to Sophia and grabbed her hand. “We have sixty-five rooms at my father’s place, fifty-seven at Airgead, forty-three at Tavish Uilleam’s. That’s... a hundred-and-sixty-five spacious rooms, most of them double suites. Every guest could be housed within our properties, except for the ones who have homes nearby. We could have the ceremony in the morning. Let’s say... eleven-thirty. Then have lunch and the party in the afternoon and evening. I’ve already imagined the photos we’ll take. On the beach, near the loch with the mountains capped with snow at the back. On the next day, Sunday, we say our farewells at a brunch at Airgead and leave for our honeymoon. One month. Thailand, Cambodia and the Maldives. What do you think?” He looked at her like a small boy eager for approval.

Sophia was gaping at him. “There is no time to prepare all this. The guest list, all the stationary, invitations, menus, seating charts. We’d have to send the save the date cards next week. Then the invitations, keep track of the RSVPs, plan the catering, flowers, music, photographers, so many things.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “God. Choose the theme, the colors, the best maids, arrange the fittings. The cake, the favors. And a bunch of other stuff I can’t even remember. Organizing all this. It’s impossible.”

“It isn’t, dear.” Angelica smiled at Sophia and then at Alistair and squeezed Sophia’s hand. “We’ve already done something similar.”

“But Grandma, it was all done here and much more informal. There were no dukes or royals with rigid protocols I’m not familiar with. And there are too many parties, too many people.” She was trying to take in all he had said. Things are moving too quickly.

“Dukes?” Drake was following the conversation with bored curiosity, more interested in observing Sophia, who was sitting in front of him.

“Alistair is the heir to a dukedom,” Carolina explained to him, “and his brother-in-law is a duke.”

“Fascinating.” He gave his fiancée a little smile.

“There is no difference, Sophia. Besides you are more experienced now. How many parties have you held with almost no notice? And we can all help,” Carolina said.

“Indeed, Carolina.” Sophia’s sarcasm was evident. “You will all move to England and Scotland to help me. The same way you did when-” she interrupted what she was saying, but the meaning was clear.

“Sophia.” Felipe didn’t raise his voice, but the criticism was there. “Circumstances are different. We couldn’t help then.”

“The circumstances will always be different-” she interrupted herself again and breathed deep. “The least people are going to say is that I’m pregnant.” Oh, damn. You and your big mouth, Sophia. She checked Alistair’s face. No harm done.

“Who is going to deal with the Royal Family?” she raised her brows at Alistair. “You can’t invite them with such short notice.”

“Royal Family?” Drake muttered under his breath. “This gets more interesting by the minute.”

“It is not like that, Beauty.” Alistair curled his finger under Sophia’s chin, his green eyes burying into her honey ones. “They are not just the Royal Family. Well, they are. But they are my friends. And you already know most of them.”

“Right. Next, you will tell me you’ll invite the Queen. That she’s-” Her voice disappeared when he lifted his broad shoulders and looked at her sheepishly. “No way, Alistair Connor. No way.”

“Yes way, Mama!” Gabriela exclaimed. “I’ve always dreamed of meeting the Queen!”

“You and Gabriel decided to marry in less than three months and everything was perfect, and you had a thousand guests.”

“Leave Gabriel out of this, Felipe,” Sophia lowered her tone, angered. “Anyway, I can’t be traveling to Scotland every week. Airgead is not exactly around the corner, you know?”

Alistair felt a sudden uneasiness. He drank some wine to ease the feeling, but it tasted acid on his tongue. He could hardly swallow it and put the glass down.

“We can help. Before you leave, I can design the main theme for the stationary with you.” Carolina put her chin on her steepled fingers, a dreamy look on her face. “I can draw Airgead Caisteal with your initials entwined over it. And for the riding tournament, we can use a photo of you two riding and I’ll make a watercolor of it. Valentina can do some of the others so they don’t look too similar. And you can have them printed in Italy in a few days. I know an exceptional printer there.”

“That’s a fantastic idea,” exclaimed Angelica. “And I can help with the catering.”

Alistair was following the exchange, his turn now to be at a loss for words with the look of panic on Sophia’s face.

“Victoria can make your dress and Gabriela’s,” Carolina prompted. “And I’m sure Alistair’s sister and her sister-in-law will be delighted to help you with the seating charts and all the protocol.”

“My dear, do as we do in Hollywood: hire. Hire the best wedding planner, cake designer and so on. The best in the United Kingdom, at least,” Drake finished. “With this I can help, I have the best contacts all around the world.”

Sophia looked from one to another, openmouthed. “You’ve got my life all planned, haven’t you?” She whipped her head to stare at Alistair as she refilled her wine glass. “So it is settled. August the seventh, at Airgead Caisteal. Starting with a small formal reception at my house to announce our engagement as soon as we arrive back in London.” She swirled the wine in her glass and drank some. “In August, Airgead will be our meeting point. All the parties you want. Four hundred people give or take. We are going to be the talk of the town.”

“Sophia-” he tried to stop her but Sophia was angry.

“To the widow and the widower. The new love birds,” she sneered, raising a toast to him with her glass. She set it back on the table with a thump and wine spilled from it. Pushing her chair back, she got up, flinging her napkin on the table with rage. “Just don’t expect me to wear white. I might wear black. Excuse me.”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. What got in to her? Alistair rose also, but was too astonished to move as she marched to the door.

“The future Marchioness has teeth,” Drake smirked.

Felipe stood, surprised at her outburst and ordered, “Sophia, come back. You’re being rude!”

At the door, Sophia tossed her hair back and looked at him over her shoulder. “Screw you, Felipe.”

She banged the door closed, but they heard her exclaiming, “Screw all of you!”

Alistair winced. Sophia didn’t yell often, and when she did, it was jarring.

“She doesn’t want to marry you anymore, Alistair?” Gabriela’s small voice broke the silence.

Fuck! He gazed into Gabriela’s eyes. “Nae. It’s no’ this. She’s a wee nervous, dearling. Brides aft get nervous afore a mairiage. Don’t you ken that?”

She smiled, “You are talking funny. Are you nervous, too?”

“You bricht wee lass.” Get a grip, for Christ’s sake, Alistair Connor. He cleared his throat and said, “Feudaidh e a bhith, tha beagan.” Immediately translating, “Maybe I am a little.”

Gabriela’s laughter tinkled inside him and he smiled, relieved.

“What kind of heathen language is that?” Drake asked. “So masculine.”

“Scottish Gaelic.” Alistair didn’t even look in his direction. Standing up, he gazed at Angelica. “I’m so sorry. I guess this is entirely my fault. I should have talked with her first.”

“Still, my son, that doesn’t excuse her behavior.” Angelica’s face was serious and pale. “I apologize for her.”

“Don’t, please. She’s had a bad day...” he trailed off. “Could you show me where she is?”

“Come with me.” Felipe strolled to the door. “I know where she’ll be.”

Before leaving, Alistair turned and kissed Gabriela’s head, “I’ll be back with your mother, Fairy. And I’m sure she will let you choose your flower girl dress, okay?”

“And my bouquet,” she demanded.

“Everything you want, Fairy.”

9.45 p.m.

Felipe closed the dining room door behind them and paused.”What happened today?”

Alistair closed his eyes for a second. A pounding headache was forming behind his eyelids. “She ran into her in-laws.”

“Fuck!” The expletive came out as a hurled knife from Felipe’s mouth.

“Exactly,” he thinned his lips and shook his head. “It was not pretty.”

“It never is where Alberto is concerned. He’s a son of a bitch!” There was so much anger in Felipe’s voice that the air resonated with it. “Fucking bad luck! Still, she’s completely wrong to take it out on you.”

“Don’t, please. As I said to your grandmother, it’s my fault. I’m sorry. I ought to have talked to her first. Besides, she was really making an effort to be here tonight. She was very distressed by the argument she had with the Leibowitzes. Alberto almost slapped her.”

“What?” The slow and controlled way the word left Sophia’s brother’s lips told Alistair that Felipe’s anger had reached its peak and that the man had a formidable control over it.

Alistair rubbed his temples. “He would have, if I hadn’t been there.”

There was murder in Felipe’s blazing hazel eyes. “I’ll kill the bastard. Tell me what happened.”

Alistair told him what happened at the shopping center, while they walked downstairs to Sophia’s bedroom.

Felipe knocked on the white wooden door and opened it. Sophia was curled up on a queen size bed, surrounded by a mountain of light yellow, orange and pink silk cushions, holding one to her chest, crying.

“Go away,” she sobbed, not even turning to see who was at the door. “Leave me alone.”

“Hey, little Sis,” Felipe murmured and approached the bed. “There is no need for this.”

“There is no need for this,” she parroted.

The men stopped in the middle of the beautiful and feminine room when she spun to look at them.

“No. There never is, is there?” She sat crossed legged on the flower printed silk cover and wiped her tears away, heaving. “I’m so tired of this crap, Felipe. Everyday someone wants to redirect my life without asking me how I feel about it. Do you think it’s easy to live in a different country all alone with a small daughter? Do you?” she asked both men. “I had everything a woman could want. I was loved, pampered, had a blooming career and a beautiful, perfect family. In less than three months, I lost everything. Even my memories. My in-laws killed my husband, drugged me, declared me insane, stole my daughter and who knows what else. I lost everything that was dear to me. I had to reinvent myself and start anew, had to fight to protect Gabriela. She was barely two years old, for God’s sake. A baby.” The tears began to fall again as she whispered, “A fatherless baby. Do you think my wealth makes up for anything? It doesn’t!” She slashed her hand in the air. Her brown troubled eyes searched Alistair’s gaze. “You should have talked to me first. Asked my opinion. Don’t try to use Gabriela against me. I know what’s best for me, for both of us.”

“I didn’t-” Alistair started to say.

She interrupted brusquely. “I thought we were building a new life. Together,” she stressed the word. “I need some space to readapt. Don’t push me off a cliff. I need roots again. I have Gabriela to think of. She is my daughter, my responsibility which I cannot overlook. How dare you talk with her first?”

Alistair opened his mouth to speak again and she lifted a finger, stopping him.

“She is my daughter. Mine. I will not lose her again,” she flung at Alistair, who paled. She whipped her head to stare hard at Felipe. “Having a child is bigger than anything you can imagine. I can’t afford to be carefree again and to do things hastily. Never again.” She rubbed her eyes, forlornly. “And what if anything happens this time round? It is so hard to want something when I’ve learned that fate can take away what I value most, like that,” she snapped her fingers. Raising from the bed, she stood in front of the window, looking at her reflection, her back to the men. “Sometimes I feel so ancient. And to think I’m only twenty-five.” She touched her scarred arm and sobbed; her head dropped and shoulders hunched inward. “I envied Carol today, you know? An ugly feeling.” She whispered and shook her head. “I wish I could be sixteen again.” She hugged her middle and sagged further, “Sometimes... I wish I were dead.”

The tears that were threatening to fall from Felipe’s eyes spilled and he left the room silently.

In two strides, Alistair was at Sophia’s back, winding her to his chest and folding her in his arms. “Don’t. Don’t,” he breathed on her hair. Shaking his head at her, as if she were an insolent child, he commanded, “You should not say such things, even in jest.”

She rested her head on his chest and let out a shuddering sigh.

“I love you so much I cannot imagine my life without you, mo gràdh.” He heard as Felipe shut the door quietly. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to waste time away from you. If you want a small wedding, I won’t fight over it. But I can’t wait.”

Sophia breathed in his scent. Sublimely Alistair Connor. “It’ll be as you wish.” Her voice came out muffled by his cotton shirt. “Don’t do that again. I don’t like to show off. I am a private person, I don’t discuss my life in public.”

“We were not in public, Sophia. They are your family.”

“Doesn’t matter. You should have talked to me first. Alone. Just the two of us.” She lifted her eyes to look at him. Her long lashes were spiked from her tears. “It was not your decision to make, it’s ours. Don’t mistake indulgence for weakness. I won’t be a puppet in anyone’s hands. I won’t be tamed.”

“I got carried away in the excitement. I’m sorry.” He held her hand in his and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Please, forgive me.”

She gave him a wan smile. “I’m sorry too. I’m a little finicky today.”

Mo chridhe, mo gràdh, mo bheatha. He rested his forehead on hers, “You’re my heart, my love, my life. Tha gaol agam ort.”

“I love you too.” She stood on tiptoes to kiss him and hugged him for a few minutes.

“Let me wash my face, so we can return to our dinner.” She pushed aside a mirrored pane and the bathroom was revealed. “Grandma won’t let me have dessert if I don’t eat properly.”

“No dessert? Nae, nae. That can’t happen,” he protested and winked at her.

“Alistair Connor,” she grinned at him, “you’re impossible.” And walked into the bathroom.

And you’re the most beautiful, mercurial woman I’ve ever known. He followed, incapable of staying away from her.

He watched as she washed her face and brushed her long black hair.

The mere thought that he could lose her made him step behind her and put his hands on her waist.

Her soft body leaned onto his and she looked at him in the mirror.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her closer. He buried his face in her hair and drank in the fresh scent of her, “I love you so much.”

She tipped her head sideways and up, inviting him, and instantly Alistair’s mouth was devouring her lips. Hard, hot and fraught with memories: the first time they met, their first kiss, their first night together. He flexed his hips on her buttocks, his hold on her tightening.

“Ah-ahem,” a voice came from behind them.

Alistair and Sophia hastily sprang apart.

“God, Felipe!” she exclaimed, blushing.

“I knocked. You didn’t answer since you were... otherwise occupied,” retorted Felipe, amused. “Come on, Sophia. Grandma’s waiting.”

When Sophia walked past Felipe, he looked over his shoulder to his future brother-in-law, and whispered in a conspiratorial way, “Dude, you don’t know what you’ve got yourself into.”

Copacabana Palace Hotel.

The Black Marble Private Pool.

Sunday, April 11th, 2010.

1.11 a.m.

Despite the cool weather, the water was warm. When Sophia surfaced after diving, she found Alistair perched on his haunches at the edge of the pool, rolling ice cubes in his glass, looking at it with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What?”

“I-” he narrowed his eyes and stretched his hand. “I want to talk to you.”

You’re a piece of work. “Now? That I’m inside?” Sophia looked up and ordered, pointing down at the water. “You come down here.”

Oh, Sophia. Giving me orders? “Or what?” A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. He stood up and gave his back to her, walking to a spacious reclining chair. He sat down and wiggled his fingers at her.

“I’m all wet,” she pouted, but in the end got out of the pool, shivering from the contrast of the warm water and the cool night air.

“Cold?” he asked and moved so she could nestle against his body and cover herself with a terry cloth robe.

“No, not at all. I like this cool weather. We usually only get it in July or August.” She put a leg over his and nestled comfortably on his chest.

“You feel so good, Beauty, so good.” He kissed her forehead and blurted out a question that had never left his mind, “Why did you forgive me when I assaulted you?”

Oh, what! She closed her eyes briefly. She had avoided thinking about it since that fateful night. She breathed in loudly and straddled him. “What are you looking for? My personal reasons or my professional point of view, as a lawyer?”

Why do you always create this wall around yourself, Sophia? He blinked at the determination that shimmered in her eyes. He gently pushed back her wet hair from her face. “Both, I guess.”

She bit her lip, uncertain of how to voice her feelings, but she knew he was right. They had to work it out. “This is the last time I’m talking about this issue, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

She rose and fetched the bottle of whisky, pouring a drink for herself as she arranged her thoughts. She sat on the edge of the reclining chair, facing him. “Very well. Let me start by outlining and analyzing the facts. Women that love and live with a violent partner usually return to the relationship several times before they leave it, permanently damaged, physically and psychologically,” she paused, but there was no possibility of making light of reality, “or they are killed.”

Alistair winced, shocked, before he composed himself again.

“That’s what happens if they remain in a violent relationship against all common sense. The reasons range from experiencing or being present during domestic violence in childhood to low self-esteem or financial security and so on. The woman, or the man as they can also be the victims, remembers the good times and somehow dismisses the bad. And believes in the promises made after the violent event, like,” she made quotes in the air, “‘I’m sorry. I’ll never touch you again’ or ‘I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry’. The offender is always sorry, until the next time. The old routine starts again, but often the victim doesn’t realize that they’re repeating the cycle of violence.”

The soft yellow light from the two wall lamps illuminated his rugged face, his sculpture chest and his lean, muscled abdomen. In spite of his nonchalant poise, she could feel his strained emotions. You asked, my dear.

“How-”

She raised her finger. “Let me finish, please,” or I won’t get this out. “So, this is - more or less - how a cycle of violence works: Normally, there is a period of build-up. Tension between partners increases, the abuser starts to get angry and communication is difficult. The victims-to-be find themselves walking on eggshells. Then comes the incident, or explosion as I like to call it, when the violence takes place. It can be psychological, verbal, physical or sexual. Next follows the making-up or, as I prefer, the false-remorse phase, when the offender promises to never be violent again; that it wasn’t like that; that the victim provoked it, was to blame too, and so on. The victim feels relief, thinking that the violence has ended. Next is the honeymoon phase. The victim becomes meek and thinks about her actions and reactions around the partner. The abuser will shower the victim with gifts and tender demonstrations. The partners are in denial as to how bad the abuse and violence was. It’s then that the possibility that violence could occur again is totally ignored, because they don’t want their love to be tainted by it. They don’t want to lose respect and admiration for their partner.” Her lips curled in a grimace. “Unfortunately this never lasts, and the cycle begins again, escalating and becoming more frequent over time. Until a final, tragic break up or the ultimate death of the victim.”

What about your feelings? “You really seem to know a great deal about this. But-”

“Aren’t we impatient today?” She interrupted him with a ghost of a smile. “You wouldn’t last a day in my class. I just stopped to breathe and organize my thoughts.”

He grinned, “Are you a very strict teacher, Beauty?”

“I keep a paddle on my desk for misfits.” She flashed him a mischievously smile.

He laughed, “A dominatrix in Cambridge!”

God! Why does everyone keep calling me that? She shook her head at him with an amused expression on her face. “Well, back to the subject... Abusers have even lower self-esteem than the victim and like to control the partner.” Like Ethan, for example. The thought robbed her of her next lines. “Hmm... Right. The abuser will use, in a twisted way, the partner’s feelings to dominate and control. The verbal or physical abuse is used with one purpose and one purpose only: to gain and maintain a complete control over the victim. The abuser’s supposed love.” You’re stalling Sophia. Face it. “Err... What you did...” She tilted her head to the side examining his poker face. “Ready for it?”

Nae. I’ll never be, but we need to clean the slate.

As he nodded, she exhaled loudly and said, “What you did qualifies as assault and domestic abuse. However, you don’t fill in the prerequisites of a classic domestic offender. Not that I think that the violence wasn’t your fault. It was. If I took your blame for what you did, I’d be saying that you can’t control yourself and that you aren’t responsible or accountable for your behavior. Then you would belong in a psychiatric ward.” She smiled at that and his lips curled up, but not quite in a smile. “This excuse would never stand up in court and I won’t fool myself and buy it either. You do have a conflict with your self-esteem. You swing from high to low self-esteem, but I would say you veer toward high more than low. Most perpetrators of domestic violence have... double personalities. They’re not violent outside their homes or toward people other than their partners. They threaten and abuse only their partners. You...” You are a total domineering control freak. A charmer. She smiled at him, amused at her wayward thoughts.

“What is so funny?” he asked intrigued.

“You, Alistair Connor,” she poked his chest, “on the other hand, you have a steady mercurial behavior. You don’t try to dominate or control only me. You do this with Leo, your sister, your brother, your father. I can only imagine the way you order your employees around.”

He forced a smiled. “So. I’m dammed.”

“I think I can save you,” she joked before resuming her explanation. “You have a charming way of domineering. You’re jealous and possessive, but you don’t suffocate me. You let me express my opinions, and even though you may disagree with them, you don’t belittle or criticize me. You don’t frighten me with your words or acts. I don’t feel controlled by you. What is most important: I don’t need to think about what I’m going to do or say when I’m around you. I can act naturally and carefree. And I feel like I’m doing... almost the right things, all the time.”

“Sophia.” He shook his head at her with an amused smile on his lips. “You always do the right thing. You’re perfect in your spontaneous way. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

“See?” She smiled back at his praise. “Sometimes... you are a bit overwhelming, but in a good way. It’s your personality. There is a thin line between an alpha male and an abuser. And you don’t cross it. Another crucial fact that shows you don’t qualify as a classic abuser is that you didn’t try to negate the violence. You didn’t blame me or try to diminish what happened. On the contrary, you were clearly distressed and blamed yourself. You... There’s a clear...”

As she searched for words to justify his act her face turned suddenly serious. Alistair became worried, “Beauty?”

“I’m not a psychoanalyst and I have no experience in it other than my own, but I’d say that... there’s a... not exactly a violent streak...”

She bit her lip thinking for a moment, and although Alistair wanted to kiss her, he refrained his impulses. Until now, Sophia had maintained a light tone in her voice, but something had changed. He could sense a seriousness and a sadness in her.

“You, Alistair Connor, you exert strict control over your more aggressive impulses. Impulses that everyone has, not only you. And that night... That night you lost it. I couldn’t believe you were a domestic offender.” A self-deprecating smile modified her features. “I was so quick to condemn the same behavior in the cases I worked on. I always had prompt advice to give, like ‘If you value yourself and your life you’ll stay away from him.’ Funny, isn’t it? I needed to go through an experience to understand how difficult this situation is. So very difficult,” her voice waned.

Stop. Stop! I don’t want to hear anymore. “I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t sustain his poker face and grimaced. Watching her talk about statistics and facts hadn’t bothered him, but as he watched her face fall from belittling herself, part of him just wanted to run. The other part wanted to grab her and spend the rest of their lives loving her and proving to her he would never act like that again.

She scooted closer to him and combed his silk locks off his forehead. “Finally, to answer your question, why I forgave you and why I considered maintaining a relationship with a man who was so violent toward me.” She drank the rest of the whisky and put the glass on the floor, her hand returning to his hair. “It’s hard to explain my reasons because I’m involved. I’m partial. However... I don’t think you have the prerequisites for a domestic offender. Was it wrong? Yes, it was. However, we all make mistakes. And... the most important reason or,” she raised her eyebrow at him, smiling, “the most unreasonable reason is that you, my Lord of Distrustful-pre-historic-land, you’d already entered my heart at that time. I had to give us a chance to see where it would lead us. I... I was a teenager when I met Gabriel. I loved him, yes. A lot. But it was more... innocent, immature love. You...” she cupped his face and whispered fiercely on his lips, “You, Alistair Connor, I love as I have never loved any other man. And I’ll make you the happiest man alive,” she promised, before she took his mouth in a fierce kiss.

He grabbed her by the waist, flipped her over his body and rolled her onto her back, opening the robe. With a dark smile on his face, he fished an ice cube from his glass and traced a path along her bikini strap and up to her neck.

She arched on the reclining chair and complained, “It’s cold.”

Alistair settled his big body over her wet one and whispered on her mouth, “Then let me warm you.”

“Are you crazy?” Sophia’s eyes widened. “We’re going to get arrested for indecent exposure.”

“Nae. I put the do not disturb sign on the handle. And Zareb is down the hall. No one is going to get by him,” he said as he moved the ice over her lips. To and fro. Slowly. She opened them and tasted the scotch with the tip of her tongue.

“Crazy man,” Sophia moaned as his mouth and tongue followed the ice cube conquering her mouth in a long, hot kiss.

“I love you,” he breathed as he kissed his way down her neck and collarbones.

“Ah!” Goosebumps coated her skin and her nipples hardened under the wet bikini as he circled them with the ice cube and his tongue traced the contour of her bikini top. She pushed the small triangles away, liberating the puckered nipples to his hot and greedy mouth.

“I’ll never again drink scotch without thinking of this,” he rasped as he picked up his glass and bathed her with the liquid, holding the ice cubes with his fingers. “Never,” he whispered on her breast as he licked it with long and slow strokes of his tongue. “What do you want?”

Sophia shoved her fingers in his hair and pulled his head down to her breast, but he resisted.

“Say it, Sophia. I want to hear you.”

She wound her legs around his hips, pressing up against his arousal, “You. I want you.”

“Ah-ah.” He moved against her and his tongue flicked over the hard nipple. “Tell me. Be explicit, be dirty.”

Fuck me. She pulled hard at his hair, yanking his head up.

When he stared into her eyes and tsked, she hissed in staccato, “Suck. My. Tits.”

Yeah! Almost there. “Nice.” His sardonic smile broadened and his eyes flashed as he tsked again and pinched her nipple lightly. “You forgot the magic word.”

You bastard. She groaned, “Please.”

He laughed low, a pleased rumble that reverberated throughout Sophia’s body. “Next time, try to put some meaning into it,” he said just before his lips sucked a nipple into his mouth, making her moan loudly.

“Yes! Please!” Her fingers dug into his scalp and she lifted her hips, rubbing against his hard on.

That’s it. Blindly, his fingers groped inside the glass taking another ice cube. He swirled it over the neglected nipple before transferring his mouth to it.

Sophia felt disconnected. All she could do was feel the cold path of the ice and the following hot trail of his mouth and tongue gliding down her belly, rimming the bikini line and down her legs, creating havoc on her senses.

She untied the bikini bottom, baring herself to him, but he completed ignored it, nibbling his way down her right thigh and then up her left.

He raised his head and smiled darkly at her, just before he brushed the ice cube on her clitoris followed by a pressured circle of his hot tongue.

Sophia screamed and his laughter was smothered by her skin.

“Scream louder and Zareb will be here in a second,” he murmured and lapped and nibbled at her until she was squirming under his talented mouth. “You are soaking wet, sweetheart.”

Unexpectedly, she sat back on the chair, bent her torso and pushed her nose on his face. “Stop torturing me and make me come.” She took his mouth in a bruising, brief kiss that showed her desperation. Lying down again she shoved his face down between her thighs. “Now. NOW!”

He laughed again and his muffled voice had an unescapable note of authority in the only word he said, “Ask.”

“Please,” she didn’t ask. She demanded.

“Please, what?” He raised his lids enough for her to see his flaming green eyes as he lapped softly at her clitoris and brushed his fingers around her slit.

Fuck me, Alistair Connor. “Tongue me. Finger me. Fuck. Me.” Sophia felt his warm breath against her tender flesh as one finger plunged inside her. Then two. Stroking, filling her.

One loud moan after another left her mouth as he continued to lick and fondle, his tongue exerting firmer pressure, his fingers plunging in faster.

He unrelentingly stoked her desire higher and higher until a hard and fast orgasm exploded inside her.

She bit her lip to avoid screaming, but a strangled sound left her mouth anyway as he continued to suck and probe her with his fingers, giving her no time to recover from the climax.

Alistair felt as her body started to tremble again and he pushed himself over her. His eyes held her still as no bondage ever could, in a hungry, wolfish stare, consuming her as he made his way into her body.

“Alistair,” she gasped and her nails dug into his biceps, “I love you.”

He slammed into her to the hilt and closed his eyes, stilling over her, with his head thrown back, reveling in the words and the tight feeling of her body gripping his. “Say. It. Again.”

The gorgeous sight of his neck and chest muscles and the stretching feeling of his invasion made her moan with pleasure. Her hands were shaking when she cupped his face and made him look at her.

“I love you,” she breathed on his mouth before kissing him and lifting her hips, demanding fulfillment. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her fingernails into his shoulders as he thrust, gathering her in his arms so close to his body that there wasn’t any space between them.

“Love me,” she whispered, “I’m yours.”

“Yes. You’re mine,” he breathed against her ear, taking her lobe in his mouth as he moved his hips slowly. Pounding and circling. Kindling her fire.

“Now,” she commanded as the edge drew nearer. “I’m-”

“No. Not yet,” he groaned against her neck, nibbling it as he hammered deeper and faster as if wanted to bury himself in her. “Wait for me.”

She spurred her feet on his buttocks, flexing her hips up, biting his neck as she spasmed around him, throwing him over the edge.

A lustful groan came through his clenched teeth as he pushed inside her, again and again, not wishing it to finish, not wanting to let go, holding onto her as if she were his lifeline.

“Again. Don’t stop,” he heaved, desperate, “again.”

His primal cry crashed through her last locked door and filled her with a savage need. She breathed in his masculine scent and raking her nails on his back, feeling his throbbing desire rippling through his muscles. She bit his earlobe, struggling to keep another orgasm at bay as she felt herself becoming hotter.

Waiting for him, she tightened and loosened in a rapid crescendo around his arousal, pulsing and sending raw energy through his spine, before bucking her hips up as her fingers pushed his buttocks down, forcing him even deeper, “Come. For me.”

His hoarse shout filled the night as he let his desire consumed him in a blazing fire and burst radiantly through her in a dizzying climax, an unrivaled force that robbed her of all senses and intelligible thoughts.

The warm water and a large hand roaming over her waist and hip, brought Sophia back to earth. Alistair was holding her in his arms inside the black marble pool. When her eyes fluttered open, she saw Alistair’s smiling eyes gazing at her with so much love inside them that she sighed aloud.

“You are certifiable,” she murmured, putting her head on his shoulder.

“Aye,” he whispered to her, tightening his arms around her. “Since you said you love me the last of the sanity I had flew away.”

“You’re debauching me. I have never done anything so, uh-”

His smile darkened and a proprietary glint shone inside his eyes. His mouth trailed a warm path on her neck, making her moan.

“Exposed? Dangerous? Fulfilling?” he said in between nibbles from her neck to her ear, ending on her bottom lip as the hand behind her knees moved to caress her intimately. “Want to do it again?” he demanded as he swirled in the water and pressed her against the pool wall, wolfishly smiling down at her and surveying her naked body.

Her breath vanished when hot desire pooled between her thighs, “You are going to kill me.”

“With love, I hope,” he breathed as he started the sweet torture all over.

Chapter 28

Ashford Steel Industries.

Tuesday, April 13th, 2010.

7.45 p.m.

The intercom double buzz informed Scott that his boss was ready to receive him. He gathered all his clippings, arranged them neatly in his black leather folder, straightened his dark-gray tie and headed to Ethan’s office. He pushed the door open after a fortifying breath.

Ethan looked up from his computer screen and motioned for Scott to sit, “A minute, Scott.”

“Would you like water and coffee, sir?” Scott asked.

Barely suppressing an amused smile at the predicable behavior of his assistant, Ethan answered, “Yes, please.”

He finished his work and leaned on his Aeron chair to watch Scott’s profile, his glazed watery blue gaze and long thin pale hands caressing the red and gold designs on the navy background of the delicate Imari porcelain.

Ethan grinned thinking of what would happen if he shouted at Scott right now. He shook his head at the silly thought and waited patiently as his assistant served his coffee and Bling water and sat down in front of him.

Scott opened the folder and fished out his white handkerchief and Montblanc pen from his suit breast pocket. Beads of nervous sweat appeared at his forehead which he immediately mopped. He cleared his throat. “Sir, I have good and bad news. What do you want first?”

Ethan smiled. He was in an exceptional mood after signing the contract to supply steel to the Brazilian government. Sophia really was his lucky charm. He couldn’t have imagined that a personal trip would bring such immense profits. It had to be really bad news to dampen his mood. “The bad first.”

“All right,” Scott mumbled, breathed and launched into it, “Leibowitz’s computer security system is almost unbreakable. Ghost is still working on it. He’s been exchanging ideas with other hackers, but Leibowitz’s technicians noticed the first attempts and reinforced their firewalls and cryptography. However,” he raised a finger to emphasize, “we were already inside her personal email account, iPhone and home computer and they didn’t discover it. Her security impressed Ghost, but it was nothing one of the best hackers in the world could not surpass,” Scott boasted the hacker’s qualities as if they were his. “You can access her schedules and all her data from your computer.” Scott rounded Ethan’s desk with a sheet of paper in his hand, squinting at the instructions on the sheet and typed in a long sequence of commands as he kept explaining, “Ms. Leibowitz backs everything up to a cloud. Oh. I’ve secured an ally inside her house. Acting under Ghost’s directions, he bugged her phone lines and tapped her TV and internet lines.” Gabriela’s face appeared on Ethan’s screen with Sophia’s desktop icons at the bottom. Scott rightened his posture and puffed out his chest, proud of his achievement. With a stylishly wave of his hand, he presented the mirror of Sophia’s computer. “Here you are, sir. She is all yours.”

“Good,” Ethan drawled, approaching the screen, “very good, Scott. Don’t bother anymore with Leibowitz Oil. I’m only interested in her personal life. Is she back?”

“Not yet.” Scott clicked on an icon and Sophia’s mail box appeared on the screen. “George V in Paris. Tomorrow.”

“That’s interesting.” Ethan rested his chin on his hand and leaned back in his chair. “What else can I do from here?”

8.21 p.m.

When the door closed softly behind Scott, Ethan walked to his bookshelf and stopped in front of his grandfather’s photo. His lips curled and he raised his eyebrow.

See, Niarchos? Do you see, old man? I’ve surpassed you. I’ve learned.

No one betrays me anymore.

No one fools me anymore.

No one!

France, Paris, VIII Arrondissement. Hotel George V.

Wednesday, April 14th, 2010.

6 p.m.

Alistair settled a sleeping Gabriela higher on his shoulder and turned to look at the grand lobby with its immaculate marble columns and floors, highlighted by pink, lilac and purple orchids that glowed with beauty.

“This is the type of place that you imagine just can’t get any better, but it continually surpasses our expectations.”

“I always stay here because of Gabriela. There are few hotels in Paris that receive children like George V.” She looked around as well and her eyes sparkled. She licked her lips as if she could taste the scented lobby.

“I don’t know if I like this expression of yours,” Alistair cocked his head. “What are you planning now?”

Sophia wasn’t listening. She was intently examining the orchids that appeared to be floating in air. That’s it. “Mmm,” she moaned and purred, “I want him. I want Jeff.”

“What?!” Alistair was aghast. He blinked at his future wife. “You want... Jeff?” Who the hell is Jeff?

She startled and looked up at his face. “Yes, I want Jeff. Jeff Leatham. He’s the artistic director of the hotel. The amazing flower designer responsible for this,” she raised her arms showing the superb floral arrangements. “For our wedding. I have to call him. Now. He’s very sought after.”

“Madame Leibowitz. Lord Ells. What a pleasure!” Christopher Norton, the general manager was waiting to accompany them to the Penthouse Suite Sophia had booked for them. “Your luggage has arrived and I’ve already sent the Rolls for your sisters. Their flight is supposed to land in half an hour.”

“Superb, Chris.” She linked her fingers with Alistair’s and smiled at the manager. “Could you get me an appointment with Jeff Leatham? We are getting married in August and I’ll have no one but Jeff for the flowers and of course, for all his creative ideas.”

“Congratulations to you both! I’m sure Jeff will be thrilled, Madame.” He exited the lift and opened the doors for them.

Designed to resemble an elegant European residence, the Presidential Suite was two thousand square feet, and its six terraces offered a three-hundred-and-sixty degree view of Paris. Jeff Leatham’s beautiful floral arrangements, along with French paintings, Blue de Chine pottery and the floral damask fabrics in golden-yellows and dark-blues created the sense of a luxury home.

Their personal maid and butler were already unpacking their luggage in the main bedroom.

Alistair let Sophia organize things and ask for refreshments as he went directly to put Gabriela in bed in her room on the other side of the suite. She stirred and mumbled something, but didn’t wake up.

“She’ll wake up only for dinner now,” Maria said as she took off the little girl’s shoes. “I’ll take care of her, Mr. McCraig.”

“Perfect, Maria. Thanks.” He stopped to look once more at the blonde girl sleeping like an angel before he exited the room, softly closing the door behind him. How could I have been so lucky? Two angels gift-wrapped in one cloud is better than I deserve.

He slowly made his way back to the living room where Sophia was talking excitedly with a thin, tall, dark-haired man dressed in a black T-shirt and black washed jeans.

“Alistair, come here,” she grinned happily at him. “This is Jeff Leatham. Jeff, my fiancé, Alistair Connor.”

The men shook hands and Alistair sat beside Sophia, who handed him a flute of Krug champagne. They toasted and he pulled her by the waist, snuggling her close to his body, as she talked of her ideas to the flower designer, who made a few notes. Alistair’s mind was only half engaged in their conversation until he heard Sophia stating that she wanted no white flowers.

Fuck, Sophia. You’re a widow, but this is too much. It’s a wedding for Christ’s sake! “Why not?” he frowned down at her.

“It’s too virginal,” she wrinkled her nose. “It’s not appropriate.”

Jeff’s laughter filled the room. “My dear, if that were true no bride would wear white anymore.”

“Sophia, this time I’m getting married in a church. Can’t we have white for the wedding ceremony, at least?”

Church?! I’m Jewish. There’ll be no- She realized that they’d never talked about religion. She turned her head to face him, but he was eyeing Jeff.

“I want white roses and orange blossoms in the chapel at Airgead. It’s all in dark wood and rock. White will be perfect. And I want the air scented with vanilla.”

Damn. How am I going to solve this? She squeezed Alistair’s hand, saying, “We can decide on the flowers for the wedding ceremony later, can’t we, Jeff?”

“Yes, of course. So, I’ll block off my schedule for that week. I’ll be waiting for the photos and the floor plans.” He closed his black leather moleskine.

They raised and walked to the suite door. Jeff grinned at her, “Sophia, your wedding will be fun to do. I already have a million ideas for it. Black iron and green for one day, crystal glass, purple and orange for the other-”

“And white for the ceremony,” Alistair reaffirmed.

“White for the ceremony,” Jeff concurred as he shook hands with Alistair. He kissed Sophia on the cheeks. “White roses and orange blossoms, Sophia. And vanilla scented air. A romantic groom’s wish cannot be denied.”

Sophia shook her head and sighed. “All right, then.” But there will be no chapel.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph! “We’ve been at it for at least ten minutes, but you haven’t convinced me at all. If you don’t believe or follow a specific religion, why not marry in mine?”

You’re not listening. “Because I can’t change religions like I change clothes. One minute Catholic, the other Jewish, and then back to Catholic.” She made a face at him. “Then next year, I’ll be a Buddist. Can’t you see it’s ridiculous?”

“You said yourself that God didn’t need a name. What’s the difference?” He raked a hand in his hair, pacing the living room. Why are you creating so many difficulties?

“There’s Gabriela to consider, too. She’s also Jewish.” She shook her head. “What’s the problem with a civil marriage?” I can’t marry in the Catholic church anymore.

An aggravated sigh left his lips and he looked away as he toyed with the champagne flute in his fingers. You did it for Gabriel. Why not for me?

“I didn’t know you were so religious,” she murmured, walking to his side, touching his stiff back with light fingers. “You said you married... huh, her at a registry office.”

“I did.” Slowly, he turned to watch her face, green eyes narrowing. “But you are not her. I’m not marrying you on a whim, because you’re pregnant. Nae,” he shook his head, impatiently. “You are the one. The one that I want to spend my life with. The one that makes me happy.”

Oh. My. She looked in his eyes and capitulated. “Would you agree to an ecumenic wedding? We could build a place outside.”

“Aye... Yes, I would,” his shoulders visibly relaxed. “The Church of Scotland is very flexible.”

“I’ll find a rabbi and a priest that will agree to it.”

“I’ll talk to Father Bruce. He baptized me. I’m sure he’ll be happy to oblige us.”

“While we are talking about it, did you-”

A knock sounded on the door, interrupting them. Sophia walked to the hall to open the suite door.

She barely had time to steady herself when her twin sisters threw themselves at her, babbling in Portuguese at the same time.

“Easy girls, easy.” Sophia backed away from the two lively girls.

“What happened,” Victoria started and Valentina finished, “to your face?”

“I fell.” Sophia was more than used to their strange way of finishing each other’s sentences. “The stitches come out next week. Come on in, girls.”

They walked into the living room where Alistair was eating a piece of Bleu de Brèsse. His hand stopped in midair and his mouth dropped open when he peered at the petite girls, with their arms wrapped around Sophia’s waist. He had already seen photos of them, but nothing could have prepared him for the real thing.

Victoria and Valentina were absolutely identical. They were short, five foot three, slender and delicate, with abundant light blonde hair that ended in large curls at the middle of their backs; their blue eyes sparkled on their peachy skin, complemented by heart shaped mouths. They were nothing like Sophia and Felipe or even Carolina. To make things worse they were wearing identical outfits, faded blue denim jackets over plain white T-shirts and shredded white capri jeans, pink flats and orange Hèrmes Birkin bags.

“Where is Gabriela?” they asked at the same time.

“Sleeping,” Sophia answered. “Let me introduce you to your future brother-in-law.”

Victoria whispered in her right ear, “Oh, my. He is,” And Valentina added in her left ear, “a giant hunk.”

“Behave, girls,” Sophia admonished in a murmur.

Valentina let go of Sophia’s waist and approached Alistair, who was standing, “Hi there. Aren’t you big?” She put her hands on his shoulder and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I’m Victoria.”

Victoria flanked an astonished Alistair on his other side and repeated the gesture, “And I’m Valentina.”

“Alistair Connor. It’s a pleasure uh, Victoria” he looked at Valentina who nodded, and then to Victoria, “and you’re Valentina.”

“Got it,” they answered him, smirking.

Sophia looked from one to the other and put her hands on her hips. “Girls! Grow up, will you?”

The twins giggled and turned to Alistair again, correcting themselves, and confusing him even more. “She’s Victoria,” Valentina pointed to her sister, while Victoria did the same, “and she’s Valentina.”

Christ! Alistair eyed Sophia, shaking his head slightly, and asked, “Are they right in the head?”

Sophia laughed. “No. They are not. Call them both Vic, or Val. They’ll answer anyway.”

Thursday, April 15th, 2010.

9.51 a.m.

Breakfast was served on the terrace overlooking the Madeleine, the Opera and the Pantheon.

Sophia was distractedly drinking the freshly pressed orange and strawberry juice, enjoying the view, when Alistair asked, “How do you distinguish the twins?”

Sophia smiled. “By their behavior. Valentina is the youngest by two minutes and she’s more impulsive. Victoria is sweeter, calmer. When they were small - well, even now - Val comes up with mischief and Vic eagerly follows. A hint for you, Victoria has a small scar on her chin,” Sophia tilted her head and pointed to the right underside of her own chin, “right here. She fell from her horse trying to jump a fence and got three stitches.”

He grasped her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, drawing her attention back to his face. “Do you still miss your parents, Sophia?”

She almost choked with the unexpected change of subject. She put the glass on the table, swallowed the juice and dabbed her mouth with her napkin, clearing her throat. “Yes. I do. Very much. It’s a... An eternal void. It’s been fifteen years. I only remember flashes; my father pushing me on a swing or my mother helping me with my homework. But mostly, what I remember are...” She sighed and raised her eyes to his. “The senses. Her smell and her caresses. Her soft bosom. His laughter and booming voice. The feeling of freedom when he would throw me up in the air and catch me.” Her lips trembled. “Cherished memories.”

Whenever she looked at him with those sad, dark-brown, emotion-filled eyes, Alistair wanted to wrap his arms around her, shielding her from all harm and pain. To make love to her until she was laughing again, that tinkled sound that made his heartbeat accelerate to a thousand per minute. “How did you cope with it?”

“Family love and a special friendship between me and my siblings. We were very close. My family was only us. No uncles, no aunts, no cousins. When they died, Felipe, Carolina and I, we... We became inseparable. We had all our meals together. We slept in their room all the time. And we spent all the time we could with the twins. The best thing my grandparents did was to send me away. Me and Carol. After a week in Lausanne, I missed my parents so much, I missed my brother and my little sisters so much, all I wanted was to go back. I went through a month of unparalleled anger.” She gazed up to the blue sky and the sparse soft clouds, seeing her parents’ fading faces on them, remembering those times. “I know anger is acceptable when you’re grieving, especially when you’re a ten year old girl. Carol was eight, but she grew ancient in just a few weeks. And Felipe, he carried the weight of it all on his shoulders. He closed himself off and, like Carol, became an adult instantly. Always worrying about the future that he forgot to live his present. He was only sixteen. I think he thought he had to fill my father’s shoes.”

He brushed a lock of her raven hair behind her ear just to touch her. If he could, he would have pulled out all that grief from her soul.

Sophia leaned her face on his hand for a moment, closing her eyes and letting his warmth seep into her. “It was hard. It was a pain that went on and on and it never ended. It’s perverse to lose both parents at the same time,” she bit her lip and shook her head. A tear fell down her cheek when she whispered, “It was too soon to say good-bye. And what is even worse... Time dulls the pain, but then it also bleaches the good memories...” her words trailed away with a helpless gesture with her hand.

Instinct overcame him and he brought her onto his lap, nestling her back on his arm. Her pain unveiled his own. He couldn’t imagine Nathalie’s memories fading away. “I’m sorry, mo gràdh.”

Sophia sank on his chest. Solid. Warm. So real. When she looked up into his eyes, she saw her own heartache mirrored there, as if he felt her ache as his. Oh, Alistair Connor. You had it even worse than I did, didn’t you? She regarded him with love, as his pain-filled eyes reminded her he had lost a child. Nothing more perverse than that.

“That’s why I want Gabriela to have at least another sibling. I can’t imagine what it would have been like if I were an only child. Yeah, my grandparents were there. They were supportive and loving. But... my sisters and my brother... We shared the same pain and we bore it together. In that year in Lausanne, I was always with Carol. Joined by grief, by need, by love. We helped each other the best way we could. We dealt with our, quote unquote, acceptable anger, by doing things like fencing and skiing and all sorts of mad things, the worst young girls that ever passed by that school. We won every fencing competition. And every horse race, giving the horses rein as if we were chasing their killer. We punched our dough in the Cordon Bleu class, instead of kneading it delicately for hours, like it was responsible for their death. After a while, every girl in the class was passing us their dough behind the teacher’s back for us to knead it.” She smiled sadly at him. “The teacher, he knew, of course. But he closed his eyes to that. Those were acceptable things. The only time we were punished was when we fought over something ridiculous with a schoolmate and we had a flour war in Monsieur Putton’s kitchen. He had a fit and called the head-teacher.” Her smile was sad and his fingers combed her hair, bringing solace to the dull ache that was always waiting to resurface.

“What was the punishment?” His voice was intense as if he would take revenge on the teacher who dared punish her.

Her eyes turned wistful. “It was not that bad. Monsieur Putton had a very gentle heart. He was fun and talented. We lost our weekend outings for three months in a row. He said he was going to teach us to respect our elders, other people’s opinion and food.” Her lips curled up softly. “We learned to respect the kitchen. Oh, we did. For a few weekends, we were in the kitchen from ten in the morning to four in the afternoon. We peeled vegetables, we polished the pans and cooking utensils. We cleaned the kitchen until it shined. And we cooked. So many different recipes that we were never the same again. Carol cooks even better than I do. She’s always wanted to be a chef.” Her smile grew. “The sacrifice was rewarding. A lesson taught with love and sweets. That is the way lessons should be taught. With love.” She licked her lips and took an apple from the fruit plate. “I promise I’ll bake cookies and my decadent chocolate and fresh wild berries tartlet for you next week.”

Before she bit the apple he snatched it from her hand and bit it himself and offered it back to her.

The sinful look he gave her made her mind reel.

She was unable to make sense of the changes that came over him without explanation. One minute he has profoundly sad and the other, extremely aroused. She’d never experienced anything like it.

“You are scandalously debauched, Lord Mercurial,” she whispered to him.

He brushed her hair away and kissed her neck, nibbling the soft skin under her ear and sucking her earlobe lightly, before he confessed, “I’ve become so many different men since I met you that sometimes I don’t even recognize myself,” he said inhaling her vanilla scent deeply.

“And that’s a good thing? Becoming Lord Multiple Personality?”

He raised his head and looked at her very seriously. “Sophia, in hindsight, I know that my relationship with Heather was... the worst kind that could have happened to me. However, I can understand why I entered it. I, as any healthy man, have sexual fantasies, but she... She was obsessed with sex in the most perverted way.” His lips curled in a half grimace. “I’m still asking myself why. Have I told you I started seeing a therapist?”

“No,” she breathed, surprised. “Do you like it?”

“Aye,” he smiled amused. I was surprised myself, sweetheart. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? I wonder, mo chridhe, if you realize how much you’ve changed me. It’s miraculous.”

Stop. I’m not responsible. You are. “Why did you start going?”

“First, you said I should. Then Tavish Uilleam. He said that I was poisoned. That Heather had awoken my dark side. He convinced me to at least try. Andrew, my therapist, made me see things in a different light.”

“Like what?” She shifted on his lap to sit up straighter.

He looked away from her face and sighed. “I told him about my- Heather’s sexual preferences, which I gladly indulged. Just like a drug addiction, it started with small experiences, and I had an illusion of self control. That I could control myself, her and all the, uh, partners we had. At first, it was only linked to the idea of physical and psychological gratification, that we were learning and being rewarded, and... I think this idea created a dependence.”

“Yes,” she nodded her head, “this dependence was created by the psychological abuse she inflicted on you. She demanded more from you that you are willing to give. And, every time you indulged her, you violated yourself. Saying no to a person you love is very difficult, but it’s much more important than one can imagine. To stand your ground requires more determination and an understanding of how both partners feel and how they can help themselves by deepening their intimacy. It’s not about control or dominance, it is about communication and real closeness. Trust.”

“Exactly what was lost between me and her. We had no intimacy, communication or trust between us anymore. In a BDSM relationship those are absolutely essential-”

“Alistair Connor,” Sophia gently cut in. “I would say those are essential in any relationship.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. Right, my love.

“Alistair, you know that I’m not prudish. Many women would have accepted anything to please you, even if they didn’t enjoy it. So, when I stand my ground and you accept it, this makes our relationship so much stronger. We trust each other, we respect our desires, we are developing a new path together, growing together and finding mutually desirable ways of exploring our needs and still being true to ourselves. This is what makes our relationship a success. It’s quite different.”

She’s mature beyond her age. Alistair remained silent for a long time thinking about what Sophia had said. Or, when did I start to hear her so clearly?

She laid her cheek against his, silently encouraging him to continue with his story.

“So, when Nathalie died...” he closed his eyes and breathed deep. “It just made my anger worse. I started to have serious relationship issues. I numbed myself. I felt totally empty and I didn’t care anymore about forming a relationship. And, if I follow your line of thinking, I became an abuser too. I told Andrew, my therapist, about your slow-down. How you conducted things slowly only giving yourself to me when you thought you could trust me. How you brought me to your house. Your home.” His voice lowered to a whisper, “I told him about what I did in Berkshire.” His gaze returned to her face in time to see her flinch. “How you forgave me. How you stood your ground when I suggested the crop. How you showed me time and time again I could feel a greater pleasure with gentle and tender caresses. And finally, how you gave me my world back to me when you told me that you didn’t care if I was sterile or not. That you cared more about me.”

Oh, God. She searched his taut face for a clue, “You are important, Alistair Connor. Just you. In here.” She tapped his chest.

“He said I was in a healing process. That you’d started it and that I was letting you guide me through it because I wasn’t like that anymore. That it wasn’t what I was looking for.”

“And what were you looking for?”

He gazed into her eyes and it was his turn to smile sadly, “Love.”

5 p.m.

“Are you sure this is what you want, Sophia?” Victoria asked, surprised at the drawing of the wedding gown Sophia was showing her and her choice of colors.

Sophia nodded. “I’m a widow, Victoria. I know Alistair would like me to wear white, but...” She shrugged to show her discomfort with the color.

“I see,” Victoria murmured. And examined her sister’s face, with a mischievous smile, “But if that hunk looked at me the way he looks at you and asked me to marry him naked I would.”

“You’re impossible, Victoria,” Sophia giggled. “Gabriela will choose her own dress, of course, so please help her with that. I think the main color should be pale pink, but she can choose whatever she wants.” She fixed Victoria with a serious stare, “Remember, you’ve promised me no one will see my gown or know about it. Not a word.”

“Hm-hmm. Scout’s honor.” She mused as she chewed on the end of her pencil. “Let’s see...” Victoria looked at the design Sophia had drawn and at the fabric samples lying on the table. “We can order some bespoke lace at one of the best manufacturers of Chantilly silk.”

Sophia looked at the drawing and tapped her nails on the table.

“What about a more modern idea? Something like...” Victoria pursed her lips thinking about the dress. “Yeah, this. What do you think?” She turned her pad for Sophia, a light in her eyes. “Can you picture it, Sophia?” She picked up a tiny length of tulle and bunched it up forming a small skirt. Then she swirled the cloth, draped it asymmetrically and with a scissor tattered it. “Here.”

“That’s it! That’s exactly what I want,” Sophia exclaimed.

“And here I thought you wanted just me, mo gràdh.” Alistair’s deep voice sounded from behind her.

Hastily, Victoria opened her bag and crammed samples and sheets of paper inside, winking conspiratorially at Sophia.

“Wow, Sophia, you and Victoria are still discussing the gown?” Valentina asked. “You’ve been in here for at least two hours! Have you decided? Let me see your ideas.”

Sophia didn’t answer and stood to kiss Alistair lightly on the lips. “We have to design the rest of the stationary and decide on the best men and the maids of honor together, Alistair.” She shook a white envelope in her hand. “And my guest list is ready.” She turned to Gabriela, “I missed you, my angel.”

“Mama, Alistair took me to see the Eiffel Tower. It’s so tall. And we had ice creams.” Gabriela was hopping around Sophia.

“That’s great, my love.” Sophia knelt to kiss and hug Gabriela. “Why don’t you sit with aunt Victoria and decide on your dress while I work with aunt Valentina?”

“Yes, yes!” She jumped on the sofa and picked one of the magazines on the center table, leafing through it.

“Christ! Colors, flowers, dresses. Too much information. And too many women.” Alistair bowed, mocking, “I’m bid you good-bye, miladies.”

“Ah-ah! Come back here, Lord I’m-scared-of-women,” Sophia grabbed Alistair’s sleeve. “You have to work, too. You can ring our butler and ask for a light snack. I’m hungry. Then you can call the concierge and make us reservations at... say... Lassere, eight o’clock? A table with the vue plein ciel. Gabriela will love it. After that you are going to sit here beside me,” she patted the chair next to her, “and finish your guest list. Carol has finished all her stationary and emailed it to me,” she lightly tapped her Mac with the pencil, “I’ve approved it all and she’s already sent them to the printers. They will be ready for the final approval tomorrow morning.”

“Any other order, Marchioness?” He quirked a black eyebrow at her.

“Besides another kiss, my lord?” She giggled and lifted her lips to him. “Not that I can think of,” she smiled naughtily at him and whispered in his ear, “for the moment.”

“You’ll pay for this, dominatrix,” he murmured back, winding his arms around her and hauling her up for a kiss.

Sophia threw her arm around his neck, slanting his head to deepen the kiss.

“Hey! You two!” Victoria yelled and Valentina ended, “Get a room.”

Alistair stopped the kiss and Sophia turned in his arms, grinning, “You’re jealous. Get a boyfriend.”

Gabriela, sat between the twins, sighed rapturously, calling everyone’s attention. “Don’t they look like Beauty and the Beast?” she asked her aunts.

Sophia laughed out loud and Alistair frowned at the little girl and growled, “Who is the Beast, little Fairy?”

An innocent smile lighted Gabriela’s face, “You, of course. Who else?”

Christ! Alistair slapped his hand on his forehead as the twins doubled over with laughter. I deserve that.

Friday, April 16th, 2010.

6.01 a.m.

An incessant low ringing woke Alistair.

Careful not to wake Sophia, he disengaged her from his body, rolled to the edge of the bed and fumbled on the bedside table for the phone. “MacCraig,” he answered quietly.

“Wake up and move your ass, Alistair Connor.”

He looked at the digital clock and frowned, “This better be good, Tavish Uilleam. It’s six in the morning.” He sat up on the bed and rolled his shoulders. Fuck. I’m tired. Too many women to dance with in only one night. He smiled remembering how much fun he’d had with Sophia and the twins at Castel, one of the most exclusive Parisian nightclubs, where a select clientèle of locals and celebrities danced, mingled and spent the night away. They left the club at three o’clock in the morning.

“Are you listening?” Tavish barked through the line.

Alistair raised, shaking his head to whisk away the remains of sleep. “Sorry. I’m still sleeping. What did you say?”

Tavish huffed impatiently on the other side of the line. “Where are you, Alistair Connor? On Mars?”

Alistair stretched and smiled remembering Sophia’s words, “On cloud nine.”

“Jesus Christ, man. Turn on the TV. All the airports are closed and flights have been cancelled. That fucking volcano in Iceland has been spewing out fire and smoke for days and last night it got worse. It’s not safe to fly back in the G6. I sent you Munro an hour ago.”

Alistair scratched his head as he walked to the bathroom, not at all worried. “Really?”

“What happened to you these last few days?” Tavish was taken aback. It was a long time since he’d heard his brother so relaxed and content. “You didn’t even called to check how things are.”

“I’ll tell you later. Call Father and Alice. I’m heading to Airgead and I want everyone there. Inform staff that we are going to celebrate.” He laid the phone on the sink and put it on speaker as he talked with his brother for a few more minutes.

Alistair grinned at his image in the mirror. He had a whole new life in front of him and nothing, not even an erupting volcano hurling its anger at the world, would stop his happiness.

Chapter 29

Scotland, Highlands, Gairloch Bay. Airgead Caisteal.

Friday, April 16th, 2010.

1.42 p.m.

“Welcome back, my dear.” Lachlann kissed both her cheeks and, unable to stop himself, hauled her into his arms and hugged Sophia fiercely. He released her, still keeping her in front of him, and put his big hands on her shoulders. Very seriously, he ordered, “Next time, Alistair Connor does something stupid, you call me. I’ll put him back on track.”

Ah, now I know why Alistair and Tavish are so domineering. She smiled at him, “I promise, Lachlann.”

One by one, Alistair’s relatives greeted Sophia and Gabriela as if they were long time friends. They had all come out to the steps of the fifteenth century castle, with its impressive Palladian and Gothic style, four high towers and cannon balls on display, standing on the shores of Gairloch bay.

Gabriela turned to Lachlann and asked, “Can you take me to the towers?”

“Of course, my dear,” he picked her up in his arms, silently thanking God that she and Sophia were back in their lives. “I’ve arranged lots of fun things for you: we’re going to pick shells on the beach, swim in the loch, walk in the woods and spy on the fairies in the evening, right?”

“Right!” She clapped her hands and kissed him, before turning to Sophia who had tears in her eyes as she watched the scene. “Right, Mama?”

“Right, my angel,” she rasped through her closed up throat, “anything you want.” She breathed and took in the castle again. “I couldn’t have imagined that Airgead would look so modern,” she mentioned to Alice, “it looks like Galewick Hall.”

“That’s because of a fire in the nineteenth century that destroyed a great part of the castle. The seventh duke employed the same architect, adding a third floor, Sophia,” Leonard explained.

“The Airgead estate covers fifty-thousand acres. We are blessed here; there is excellent brown trout and salmon on the spate rivers. And the bay is filled with squat lobsters, crabs, octopus, starfish, and much more,” Tavish complemented. “Some of our shellfish ends up on plates of the best restaurants in London. And we offer some of the finest hill and woodland stalking available in Scotland.”

“It’s a must for anyone who loves nature, Sophia,” concurred Alice. “And the gardens are incredible too. Airgead’s gardens receive over seventy-thousand annual visitors, between April and November.”

Beyond the lush lawns of the estate entrance, bordered by ancient sequoias, there were extensive gardens with an outstanding mixture of red and white rhododendrons and azaleas, beautiful cherry trees, various shrubs and other plants.

“It’s truly amazing,” said Sophia looking around.

“Oh, no. Not this garden,” smiled Alice. “The one at the back, near the loch. That’s really incredible.”

“Come on,” said Alistair taking Gabriela from his father’s arms and snatching Sophia’s arm from Alice’s. “You can continue this chit-chat inside. I’m hungry and I bet this little girl is too.”

“I want to choose the fish I’m going to eat and I want to see the aquarium as you promised,” Gabriela put her arm around Alistair’s neck and her fingers played with his hair. “Aren’t you going to cut your hair?”

“Ah-ah,” Sophia interrupted before he could answer. “Alistair Connor isn’t cutting anything. I like it like this. He looks like a highland prince from centuries past.”

Promoted from warrior to prince. Alistair smiled down at Sophia. It’s getting better.

“Prince Charming with long hair?” Gabriela cocked her head back to look at Alistair while she combed his hair.

Sophia grinned at Alistair and enlaced her fingers in his, “My prince charming.”

“Mm,” Gabriela had pulled his hair into a ponytail and was seriously analyzing his face. “The Beast has a ponytail, so I guess you can have long hair.”

Christ! What’s the problem with these women that they love that ugly beast? “I’m not the beast, wench,” he groaned.

Gabriela smiled unfazed at him, “Can I put a blue ribbon in your hair too?”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Nae. “I-”

“Aye, you can.” Lachlann allowed and Tavish laughed from behind as they entered the entrance hall. “He’ll love it, Gabriela.”

Sophia stopped dead in her tracks, craning her neck to be able to see it all. “This is... dramatic.”

The dark Armoury Hall was large and its central ceiling soared up to display the Airgead earldom crest etched on it. Small lights evenly distributed complemented the enormous iron chandelier in the center. On either side were the other crests that belonged to the MacCraig family. Breathtaking displays of arms adorned the walls, with especial attention given to antique Scottish claymores, dirks and sporrans.

“The former hall was too modest for Alistair Connor, the Beast, so when he was given Airgead, he ordered the original entrance rebuilt,” Lachlann smirked at his son. “It’s the highest ceiling in Scotland. Seventy feet.”

“God, Alistair Connor,” she eyed him. “And I’m the one with an ego problem?”

“Yeah, you must have an eating disorder, too,” he grunted and towed her to one of staircases at the end of the hall. “Let’s wash up and eat before I turn into a real hungry beast and eat this little girl in my arms.”

Gabriela’s giggles filled Sophia’s and Alistair’s hearts as they climbed up the stairs to their rooms.

4.49 p.m.

Alistair looked around the Tapestry Drawing room and found neither Sophia nor Gabriela.

“Sophia wants us to finish the guest list, Father.” He sat beside his father and opened his laptop, “Where are the girls?”

“They just left with Alice, the children and Tavish Uilleam,” answered Leonard.

“They are very much alike, you know?” Lachlann mused aloud to no one in particular, as he put his feet on the ottoman, peering at Sophia and Gabriela’s photo on Alistair’s computer screen.

Leonard turned to look at his father-in-law, his brow creased, “What do you mean?”

“Tavish Uilleam and Sophia. They both have known pain. Physical and spiritual. They’ll form a steady friendship. You’ll see.”

Alistair, who was typing, stiffened and his stance darkened. “There can be no friendship between a man and a woman as beautiful as Sophia.”

“Don’t be stupid, Alistair Connor,” Lachlann scowled, “he’s your brother.”

“I’m going after them.” He closed the computer decidedly.

“No, you’re not,” said Lachlann and Leonard in unison.

“Don’t smother her, Alistair,” Leonard admonished. “Give Sophia some space.”

“He’s your brother and she’s your fiancée,” Lachlann reasoned. “Since he came back from Afghanistan, getting close to Tavish Uilleam has been hard. Once he allows someone in, he embraces them wholeheartedly. I don’t know how, but she found a way into the hearts of each and every one in this family. Besides, you know Tavish is fiercely protective of those he loves. And he loves you, Alistair Connor.”

Alistair fisted his hands and struggled with the jealousy that burned in his veins.

He opened the computer again and unleashed his emotions in shaving down the first guest list he had done.

Sunday, April 18th, 2010.

11.23 a.m.

Sophia was being lulled to sleep by Gabriela and Ariadne’s hushed giggles and the sound of waves, coming through the speakers, in the peaceful pool lounge.

The building that housed the spa was located in a small elevation and faced the stunning Gairloch beach, a small distance from the main castle. Light came in through skylights and the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, where the infinite pool seemed to join the clear green waters of the bay. Hidden from the castle by a hedge of well positioned cheery trees and flowering shrubs, it was a modern construction, taking full advantage of the landscape and the view.

“It’s easy to understand why so many people flock to Airgead, isn’t it?” Leonard commented as he sat on the chair next to Sophia’s.

She opened her yes and looked at him, “Yep, it’s truly breathtaking. A peaceful haven. It... awakens the senses and relaxes the mind.”

“It’s too quiet,” complained Alice, sitting on another chair. “It’s a blissful escape to replenish the energies, but I prefer the city. It’s good for a short visit.”

“I’d like to live in a calmer place,” Sophia sighed, eyeing a couple on their honeymoon, who were staying at the castle.

Alistair propped on an elbow to look at her, surprised, “You wouldn’t. No fancy restaurants, no Chanel, no Van Cleef, no sports cars. What else?”

I wouldn’t miss any of it, Alistair Connor. “No need for bodyguards, no press gossiping about what you’re doing, wearing and so on. No need to rush around all day, spectacular horses to ride and, more important, more time with Gabriela.” She looked at her daughter playing in the pool and smiled. “Besides, there are enough books in that library for a few lifetimes.” How about you?

“Aye,” he sneered, “your books. I still think you’d soon be bored.”

“Yeah, my books. And a mother is never bored, Alistair Connor. Once a month, we could take a week off and travel somewhere. This would be home.”

Alistair put a hand on her forehead, teasing, “Are you sick? This is not the Sophia I know.”

The Sophia you know... She smiled at him. “There are many Sophias in this one.” And I like this much more.

Who is this new Sophia? “You would truly live in the country?”

“Why not? Look around. There is this beach, which is as beautiful as any in the Caribbean and lots of fresh shellfish and fish; a stunning garden and woodland where you can walk for miles without meeting anyone, but birds and wild life; mountains where you can go skiing in the winter. And amazing friendly people. What else do you need?”

“You do make it sound better than living in London,” Alice said as Alistair raised his eyebrows not convinced at all.

“Well, London has its appeal like New York or Paris. Or any big city. Lots of traffic, pollution, millions of people hurrying to and fro, who don’t even look you in the eye. As for the museums, theaters, cultural entertainment,” she shrugged, “since you have a chopper and a private airplane, they can be reached in mere hours.”

“Fucking unbelievable,” Tavish muttered. “Do you have sisters, Sophia?”

Sophia laughed. “Well, Carol’s already engaged but there are the twins-”

“Oh, no!” Alistair sat in a fluid movement. “Those two spitfires would drive Tavish Uilleam crazy in a second.”

“I don’t want two, just one,” Tavish informed, amused.

Alistair shook his head, “I don’t think they would survive apart. They are practically... Siamese. They complete each other’s sentences. They can talk telepathically. They even dress alike, matching everything from their hairbands to their shoes. It’s weird.”

“Alistair Connor,” Lachlann intervened, “don’t be rude.”

“It’s okay, Lachlann, they are weird. We are.” Sophia smiled. “The twins do talk by telepathy. Felipe and I can also communicate with just a quick look, gesture, or smile. Carolina is the only one who needs words, and still very few. Mmm... Alice! How are we going to pair the couples for the wedding entrance?” She totally ignored Alistair’s distressful moan. “Leonard can take Carol, Lachlann and Grandma. How about the girls?”

“Can’t they be maids of honor?” Alice presented the easiest solution.

Sophia wrinkled her nose. “Oh, no. It’s different in Brazil. We choose couples to stand at the front with us during the ceremony, we call them the godparents of the wedding.” She eyed Leonard, with a pensive look. “Maybe Tavish Uilleam and Edward can take the twins. What do you think?”

Alistair rose, saying, “I think that’s all the wedding talk I can take in a day.”

What? Sophia looked at him astonished. “We have less than three months to decide lots of important things. Everything must be ready by the beginning of July.”

“I’ve done my part,” he said as he lifted her in his arms and walked to the pool, “I have decided the bride, the day and the place. That’s enough for me.”

“But-but... What about the best man, pageboy and flower girl, menus, music, cake, seating plans, rehearsal dates, photographers, the honeymoon,” she listed as he walked into the pool.

“I’ll take care of the honeymoon. Have you finished?”

“No, of course not. There’re the favors, the gifts for the-”

“I think you have,” he opened his arms and dropped a screaming Sophia in the water.

From his place, Tavish said to Leonard, “It’ll be fun to watch Alistair Connor squirm under her thumb.”

An angelic smile split Leonard’s face as he regarded a sputtering Sophia splash Alistair with water. “He has no idea, Tavish. No idea.”

Atwood House.

8 p.m.

Oh, no, Alistair Connor. This is too much. She drummed her nails on her desk and tried to sound calm. “Are you always going to be moody like this?”

“I’m not moody. I don’t feel altogether comfortable having your... Err...” Ex-lover!

“Ethan,” she supplied, pursing her lips. Sophia did not know if she should be irritated or flattered by Alistair’s jealousy.

He narrowed his eyes at her and rose from the armchair, pacing the length of her home office, until he faced her back garden. “Aye. I don’t want you to invite him. In fact, I think you should leave all the business dealings to your employees.” His tone was even and calm, but danger brewed in his eyes when he whirled to look at her. “Ashford was your lover!”

She leaned back on her chair and crossed her arms over her breasts. “Alistair Connor. Are you serious? I don’t like what I’m hearing.”

“Well, me neither.” The silvery light outlined his powerful and masculine frame in the dim room as he mimicked her pose, crossing his arms over his chest.

Damn. He is serious. His reaction threw her totally off guard but if she submitted now, he would become a despot and she knew that she should stand her ground. “Well, I’m so sorry, Lord Caveman. I’ll continue my dealings with Ethan in the same way I always have. He is my friend. I like him. And I don’t usually take orders from overbearing, jealous men. Future husband or not.”

Fuck, Sophia! His sensual lips, so full of wicked promises, thinned to a harsh line. Alistair glared at her and stalked up to where she was. He bent and caged her inside his arms as his hands gripped the arms of her chair. “Are you always going to be so damn independent?”

Yes! “Probably. It’s a character trait.”

His gaze ran from her lips to her eyes, and she didn’t miss the flicker of desire and admiration she saw in those green pools.

“More of a character flaw,” he mumbled, straightening. No one gainsays me, Sophia, but you. And I don’t know if I like it.

She saw in his eyes he was fighting his emotions. But he eased off, walking back to the windows, and stood there with his hands clenched at his sides.

Alistair flinched when she laid her head on his back and her arms circled his waist.

“We are not going to fight over such an inconsequent thing, are we? He is just a friend. You, Lord Difficult of Jealous-land, are the man of my life. I don’t have eyes for anyone else.”

Warmth flowed over him at her gentle touch and loving words. He just couldn’t stay mad at her for long. Fuck, this is what I want. Her. Just her. My independent, stubborn Sophia.

Alistair spun her in his arms, tucking Sophia against his chest as he burrowed his nose in her hair.

“He doesn’t mean anything to me, Alistair Connor. He’s just a friend.” Her hands stroked the length of his spine, soothing him. “No need to be jealous, my love.”

“I won’t lie. I’m a jealous man. I want to beat the hell out of any man who’s had you, Ethan included.” He pulled her tight against his hips and took her mouth in a fierce kiss, his hands roaming under her silk top. Her skin felt silky and smooth beneath his palms. He wanted to feel her bare breasts against his chest, have her legs wrapped around his waist as he drove into her. He wanted to do the things to her body his tongue was doing to her mouth.

Sophia broke the kiss long before he was ready to let her go. His sweet masculine scent and his hungry kiss left her lightheaded. Her fingers slid into his silky, raven hair, as she softened her voice, “Eu te amo.”

He looked down at her and ran his tongue over his lips, still tasting her. I’ll let you have your way, sweetheart, if you give me a bonus. “How about we make a deal?”

You’re big into making deals lately. She raised an eyebrow waiting for his proposal.

“Tell you what. I’ll close my eyes to your business deals with Ashford, if you agree to a trip on your birthday.”

“Alistair Connor. I’ve already explained why it’s impossible to take a week away now.”

He leaned in closer until his lips were millimeters from hers. “Davidoff is competent enough to handle matters alone.”

She bent her head back and stared seriously into his eyes. “Yeah, he is. But who will make all the decisions for our hasty wedding? You’re no help. I have to decide everything alone.”

Christ, woman! “If I help you, will you agree to come?”

Battle won. She stifled a smile and nodded, “Yeah.”

Battle won. “Good. So a week in the Perhentian Islands.” He smiled triumphantly at her. “We are going to sleep in my new boat, the Sun Ray. Gabriela will love to sleep aboard and you’ll love the scuba diving there.” And I’ll have you all to myself for a whole week.

So sure of yourself, Lord I’m-so-powerful-and-I-know-it. Haven’t you realized I got the best deal? She couldn’t stop her victorious smile from opening and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Alistair lost himself in her kiss, but a second later he realized she had maneuvered him to do exactly what she wanted. Breaking the kiss, with an amused smile on his lips, he shook his head at her, whispering, “Witch!”

Ah! Too late. She threw her head back in a happy laugh, “Be careful, my prince. I can turn you into the Beast.”

He growled and picked her up in his arms, heading for her bedroom.

London, Knightsbridge. One-O-One.

Tuesday, April 20th, 2010.

2.17 p.m.

Sophia looked around the brightly lit room, with its soft, sea blue tones. Large green cushions littered the sofas and sat upon low earthy taupe armchairs. The ambient was unpretentious, graceful and comfortable, perfect for a relaxed and intimate encounter.

Exactly what Ethan wants. To be intimate with me. She scrutinized the handsome man as he walked back to their table. Ethan’s hair was lighter, with streaks of blond mixed with the caramel and dark-brown, his azure eyes were even more startling now that his face was shaved. As always, he was fashionably dressed in a dark-gray tailored suit with a blood-red tie and a pristine white shirt. A handsome, intelligent man any woman would be happy to be with. Any woman, but me.

His smile was joyful when he sat beside her on the sofa.

“I loved lunch, Ethan. The pan-roasted Halibut was delicious. And the smell of the truffles, hmm. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such lovely truffles out of season!” Sophia was babbling idiotically, but she was too nervous to stop. “You know I did a Cordon Bleu course, don’t you? This was sensual, epicurean eating. Wow!”

“Yes, Proyart’s cooking shows that he’s the best in England when it comes to fish.” Ethan scooted next to her and put his hand over hers. “Why are you so tense?”

Because I’m going to hurt you. “Ethan...” she took a deep breath, mustering courage. “I didn’t want you to hear this from anyone else. I-I’m getting married.”

That bastard. “MacCraig.” Ethan already knew, but to hear the words from her mouth just sliced his heart open again. He drank a gulp of water to dislodge the stale taste that had filled his mouth. How can you do this to me, Sophia? I trusted you.

“Yes. Alistair Connor. In August. The seventh.” Oh, damn! Slow down, Sophia! Focus on him. She remembered Edward’s words. ‘Do be gentle when you break his heart.’ “But I don’t want it to interfere with our friendship. I like you and...” She felt bad for him. She truly did.

I don’t like you. I love you. For a minute he lost track of her words as his gaze roamed over her face and he remembered Eve, spacing out to a dark place inside his mind.

“...Ethan. But I value our friendship much more than any business transaction. I perfectly understand if you want to cancel the contribution-”

His finger landed smoothly on her mouth, “No. Never.” So, this is it. No more chances. He quietly regarded her as she stammered away inviting him to her wedding and finally fell silent.

For once in his adult life, Ethan Ashford didn’t know what to say or how to proceed.

Since Eve, no woman had dismissed him. No woman had exchanged him for another man. No one else had the chance to betray him. He was always the one in charge. He was the one who dismissed them. But with Sophia, from the beginning, things had gone awry, because he couldn’t control his jealousy or work out his inability to deal with children. He had fallen hard for her and didn’t know what to do to free himself of his obsession.

Their silence weighed over them as a suffocating icy fog.

Sophia cleared her throat. “Ethan, I don’t want you to feel...” What? I’m not his girlfriend - or lover - anymore. It’s not in my power to make him feel better. She wrung her napkin in her damp hands.

Exchanged? Betrayed? Hurt? I’m feeling that and much more. “Sophia. Darling,” he captured her hand in his and squeezed it, the two words softly and tenderly washing over her like a soothing wave. “Promise me just one thing.”

“What?” she rasped, looking down at the wrinkled linen napkin on her lap.

“Promise me you will never let MacCraig hurt you. That you will be happy,” he demanded seriously.

“I can promise you that,” she murmured relieved.

He curled his fingers under her chin and turned her face to his. There was no light in his azure eyes when he said, “Know that if you need something, anything, I’ll be here for you. Any time.” He kissed her forehead and smiled down at her, in a swift, faked, change of his mood. “Shall we order dessert?”

Atwood House.

Tuesday, June 1st, 2010.

6.05 a.m.

A low fire flowed through her veins as Sophia crawled her way up through the sea of sleep. It took her only a moment to understand why she felt hot. Alistair’s mouth was on her breast, his lips and tongue stirring an almost painful pleasure in her.

She moaned softly as she threaded her fingers through his silky, long hair, holding him close and silently inviting him to do as he pleased.

He muttered good morning, but didn’t raise his head from her breast. His tongue teased her nipple with so much care that her breathing speeded up.

“Good. Morning,” she murmured between moans, arching beneath his stroking hands and warm mouth.

There was a small part of her that still marveled at how wanton Alistair could make her even in the early hours of the morning. Thoughts soon disappeared from her mind as he made his way, with kisses and nibbles, down her belly and beyond.

“Alistair,” a ragged gasp left her mouth as she pushed up against his lips.

“Easy and slow.” His hands on her hips held her firmly in place, loving the feel of her soft, bare skin under his lips. “Relax and enjoy, sweetheart.” He kissed and teased her leisurely, stoking her desire with slow strokes of his tongue. When his fingers entered her, she was already wild with need, clawing at his hair.

“Please,” she asked in a voice so thick with desire, she barely recognized it as her own. She grabbed hold of his broad shoulders as he kissed his way back up her body with a slow pace she had no patience for. She tugged his hair, “Alistair Connor, don’t tease.”

All mine. He hovered above her, basking in her beauty, those yellow diamond eyes that he’d never seen in any other.

“I want you,” she whispered as she wrapped her legs around him and used them to make him lower his hips to hers, struggling to quench the throbbing fire inside her. She took his hard arousal in her hand and stroked him.

He closed his eyes with a low grunt. Her touch was soft and firm.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” she whispered as she kissed his neck and shoulders.

“Yes.” His green eyes opened to blister her with a possessive look while he let her position him just at her entrance. He claimed her mouth in a searing kiss and thrust shallowly, easing himself into her, bit by bit, in contained movements that left her even more heated. “You’re beautiful.”

“Ah, yes!” She pressed her feet down on his taut buttocks, pushing him deeper. His big, muscular body settled down on her more firmly and she held him close, her fingers and nails exploring the ridges of his back as he filled her, fighting to hold back the need for release mounting inside her with every long plunge of his.

“Alistair, please,” she panted mindlessly, on fire, overwhelmed by his intense passion.

“I love you,” he rasped in her ear taking her earlobe in his mouth, plunging inside her, a long movement that ended in a circling motion, teasing her clitoris.

She wound her arms around his neck, dipping her fingers in his hair, as her inner muscles contracted rhythmically around his manhood until he was moaning and a sheen film of sweat covered his forehead.

“Wait! Not yet.” He closed his eyes and took her mouth again in a fevered kiss, enjoying the slick feeling of her silken depths squeezing him in tempo with his quickening thrusts. This is when we’re one.

She dug her nails on his shoulder for support as she began to tense up and a constant shuddering took hold of her body.

“Alistair, now. Please.” Another long shove of his hips cut the last tie she had on her control.

Her climax raced through her with such force that she threw her head back and choked back a scream when she came, shaking as convulsions gripped her with the strength of her pleasure.

She was briefly aware of Alistair thrusting fast and hard a few more times before he growled out her name and trembled in her arms as his own orgasm shattered his rigid body.

He fell on her, hauling deep breaths as if he had been rescued from drowning.

Sophia welcomed his weight, her arms holding him tightly before he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.

“You were tense,” she murmured and placed her head in the crook of his arm, resting her cheek against the warmth of his broad chest. He was all hard muscle covered with soft velvet skin and she wanted to crawl under it. Unable to move or even think, Sophia was utterly unaware when sleep claimed her again.

Alistair laid there looking up at the patterns in blue and green on the canopy over her bed, a deep frown creasing his forehead as he wondered how she would react when she discovered that the press would abound at the gallery opening later that evening.

Chapter 30

Leibowitz Oil Building.

3.37 p.m.

“I knew I would have to face the press one day,” Sophia sighed and slumped on the navy suede sofa.

“But you hoped this day would never arrive, didn’t you?” Edward placed his ankle on his knee, settling comfortably beside her, and looked at Leibowitz Oil’s PR Director, who was seated in the other armchair. “Well, Sophia, you can’t go on hiding forever. What do you suggest, Ash?”

Ashley Carruthers was an exotic thirty-seven year old Angolan. Discreet, well-connected, sophisticated and sharp-witted, she wasn’t afraid of voicing her opinions and was everything anyone could want in a PR person. Sophia had always compared her to a black panther, with her languorous walk and quiet ways, belying her quick brain, silver tongue and sharp eyes.

Ashley tapped a finger on her red lips as she consulted her laptop. “I’ve collated everything that’s been said about you since you moved here. I don’t know how, but you have managed to avoid both the gossip magazines and the specialized press. There were some rumors of your death and a few unidentified photos of you with Alistair MacCraig, but that’s all. However,” she drawled the word to emphasize it, “I’ve written a few words.” She handed the sheet over to Edward. “English journalists are quite malicious and as soon as they recognize you, they will write about you, no doubt about it. It’s better to be prepared because they will throw their mics in your face. Don’t snub them. Be forthcoming. If their questions become too nasty, just smile graciously and leave the room. I’ll be there with you. Seven o’clock, you said?”

“Yes,” Sophia bit her lip as she read Ash’s statement. “This is it?”

“Is there anything else you want me to add? You did come to London to rebuild your life and it has nothing to do with Leibowitz Oil, which is competently run by Edward here. Ethan Ashford is your dear partner in a charity project and, yes, you’re engaged to Alistair MacCraig, whom you’re marrying in August. Make this sound like it’s confidential information, just for them. Smile a lot and bat you lashes. If they ask your opinion about the exhibit, praise it. Praise everything and smile. If there’s a question you don’t want to answer, smile and thank them for their kind interest in you. Instruct your bodyguards to act discreetly and to stay outside. Nothing will happen in the gallery. You’re in London,” Ash said. “Apart from that, what I suggest is: let’s wait for their reaction and then we can respond.”

“I see,” she whispered.

“Is Gabriela going?” Edward asked.

“No. Not today. We’ll take her another time, when it’s quieter.”

“Look, Sophia, there’s not much we can do. You disappeared from the face of the earth two years ago, after a tragedy that was in the news all over the world. Now, you reappear. Mysteriously. Out of thin air. Using your maiden name. Even richer. Living at one of the most exclusive addresses in the world. Engaged to a powerful and handsome man. Tongues will wag.”

“I...” she let out a long, shuddering breath. All right. Face it, Sophia. “You’ll be there, won’t you, Edward?”

“Seven sharp, love. Me, Ash and Zahira.” He scooted closer and squeezed her hand. “Don’t you worry. Everything will be fine.”

Atwood House.

5.55 p.m.

“Sophia?” Alistair knocked on the door and walked into her bedroom. “Sweetheart? Are you ready?”

A heartbeat later she stepped out of her dressing room and smiled at him. Her welcome-back-I-missed-you smile struck him hard. It was one of the things he ached for on a daily basis. He longed to see her greeting him every evening with it as he entered their home, her sweet scent in the air, and laughing children calling him daddy.

As always, his gaze skimmed her, head to toe and back again, devouring her. After a few months with him, Sophia knew exactly what that scorching look meant.

This time, however, when he reached her dark-red lacquered toenails peeking from her René Caovila sandals, he stopped. His thin nostrils flared and all his blood rushed down. Fuck. She’s sex on legs.

Excruciatingly slowly, his eyes traced his way back up, taking in her smooth bare legs and the short length of her flared asymmetrical skirt, flowing sensually around her toned thighs and hips in layers and layers of nude, caramel and brown organza and tulle. His fingers itched to span her slim waist and torso encased in a strapless embroidered bodice in earth tones. Then his gaze rose higher, to caress her naked shoulders and face. Long earrings of Imperial Topaz in reddish and orange hues framed her face. Her long hair was pulled back and up in a simple bun and she had shadowed her eyes in brownish tones, highlighting her hazel eyes.

Oh. My. Sophia’s breath stopped as his intense sensuous gaze blistered her body.

Without a word, he made a circle in the air with his index finger.

Dutifully, she twirled on one foot and her skirt drifted around her in a flurry of hues. As she completed her pirouette and faced him again, she saw his lips curve in a smirk.

With long, prowling strides, he crossed the room, his gaze steady on hers. “Who made this dress?” His hoarse accent-laden question showed all the burning desire that coursed in his veins.

His low, deep voice reverberated through her and she could feel the heat of his gaze as it roamed over her body again. “Victoria.”

His brows rose high on his forehead and his forest green eyes met hers. “She has my undying gratitude.”

She let her gaze linger on him, before she arched an eyebrow, “Victoria? And what, pray tell, do I receive?”

“My attention.” Alistair stepped closer. His gaze lowered, from her eyes to her full lips. “Undivided.”

His lips took hers and his hands curved possessively over her back and buttocks, hauling her soft body against his hard frame.

Sophia’s hands gripped Alistair’s lapels as their lips came together. Beneath his palms, her skin burned, a layer of fine silk organza no real barrier to his touch and her own flaring desire. Willingly, she sank into his arms, moaning as his tongue created havoc on her senses.

He broke the kiss, breathing deep to restrain his uncontrollable desire. “Unfortunately, we have to go. But I’ll take a rain check.”

She sighed and promised, “Later, Handsome. Later.” She picked up a silk golden shawl, that she threw over her left arm, and a Valentino red clutch from her bed. “I’m ready.”

With a deep bow, he pulled the door wide, “Marchioness.”

“Not yet, my lord, but soon,” she whispered on his lips.

His deep laughter drew a grin from her.

London, Chelsea. The Blue Dot Gallery.

6.30 p.m.

She was unnerving him with her silence. Alistair shifted on the car seat, taking both her hands in his. His thumb toyed with the grayish-blue diamond on her finger. “Sweetheart. They will be blinded by your beauty. Everything is going to be just fine.”

Easy for you to say. Sophia took a deep and steadying breath. “I... I have an idea. Why don’t you go in alone and I’ll slip in unnoticed after a few minutes?”

Why so afraid? “That won’t fool them,” he warned in a low voice.

“Indeed. But it will give me some room. I don’t like being smothered by flashes and mics. After I’m inside, I’ll take a photo and answer a question or two. But...” she made a vague gesture with her hand.

“I see.” It made no sense to him, but he would do anything she asked just to see a smile on her face. “I’ll get the journalists off Tavish Uilleam and he can meet you at the back entrance. Better?”

She smiled relieved and kissed his lips, “Just perfect, Amor. Just perfect.”

The cloudy sky mirrored Sophia’s confused feelings as she admired Alistair’s ease while he handled, along with the two gallery partners, the special tour for the press. She longed to be at his side but, at the same time, she was afraid of the exposure.

The group of journalists, photographers and cameramen had surrounded him as soon as he got out of the car.

He dominated the room and maneuvered the press into asking him what he wanted. Dressed in an expensive black suit, fitted to perfection to his body, with a striped green and blue tie over a white shirt, he was the embodiment of tradition and power. He could have looked intimidating, but his charming and seductive smile masked the straightforward business thoughts that she was sure he was having.

“He has a hypnotizing way with them, hasn’t he?” Tavish approached Sophia quietly from behind handing her a champagne flute.

“Yes,” she smiled up at him, but his eyes were glued on his brother. Only with them? She clinked her glass on his. “Cheers. Congratulations on the opening. You handle them quite well too.”

“Cheers. This is a part that I don’t like very much. I’m not photogenic.”

She laughed and elbowed him on the ribs. “You’re fishing for compliments, Lieutenant-Colonel Doctor Lord Tavish Uilleam.”

He grimaced at her, “You’ll never let me forget it, will you?”

“Absolutely not!” she joked. “That was the most intimidating greeting I’ve ever received.”

“And you’re the only woman who has ever slapped me,” he retorted.

“You deserved it,” she volleyed back.

“Aye, I did.” He sighed. “Do you like the gallery?”

In the heart of Chelsea, set in a listed building, the Blue Dot Gallery was a stunning space over three floors, with five main high-ceilinged rooms, wooden floors and glass stairwells. The old and traditional façade on the outside concealed an amazing and fresh approach to contemporary art on the inside.

“It’s spectacular,” she nodded. “Valentina would absolutely love it. She’s finishing her degree in fine arts in Florence.”

“Florence? Too traditional. She should have come here or gone to UCLA,” he said.

“That’s why she went there. Her ideas are already too daring.” Sophia rolled her neck and flexed her shoulders. “Shall we get more champagne? I need to relax.”

“How are the preparations for the wedding coming along?” He offered his arm to her with a crooked smile. “Is Alistair Connor still driving you mad?”

“Good God! How can you work with him? The man is so stubborn, domineering, unmanageable-”

“And you are paranoid and a perfectionist,” Alistair’s voice interrupted her string of complaints.

She turned, blushing at being caught red handed.

He had a huge smile on his face. “But I love you anyway.” He reached out for her hand. “Come on, sweetheart, the journalists want to meet the mysterious woman that has tamed my heart.”

Sophia saw that Zahira, Ashley and Edward were at the door posing for photos. She breathed deep.

“Go on. They’ll love you,” Tavish assured her.

Alistair put her hand on the crook of his arm and covered it with his.

Sophia bit her lip and raised her eyes to his.

He tsked and bit his lip, drawing a smile from her. “Good. No one is going to resist you now.”

8 p.m.

The five hundred select guests for the opening of the gallery had each paid five hundred pounds, to be donated to the Sophia Leibowitz Foundation. Among them, beautiful and elegant young men and women well versed in art history explained the concepts of each artist and endeavored to interest prospective clients and the directors of foundations and museums. The event was turning into a huge success.

“Sophia!” Warm hands rested on her shoulders.

She angled her neck back with a smile, “Hello, Ethan!”

His hands ran over her back to circle her waist and turned her to face him. “You look ravishing, darling.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she teased as she returned his kisses. “You know Edward Davidoff and Zahira Chanda, don’t you? And this is LO’s PR director, Ashley Carruthers.”

“A pleasure to see you again, Ashford,” Edward stretched his hand.

“Davidoff, Mrs. Chanda, Ms. Carruthers,” he greeted them and turned to Sophia. “I guess that after tonight you’re not afraid of the press anymore. So, Mrs. Chandra you can set up a date and location for our event.”

Zahira only smiled at Ethan, knowing full well that Sophia didn’t want the ball.

Aren’t you insistent, Ethan? “Why do we need a gala ball?”

“It’s free marketing, darling. If MacCraig can benefit from it,” he motioned to the crowd mingling around, “Ashford Steel and Leibowitz Oil can too.”

What? “Come again?”

“Everyone likes to have a good excuse to throw a party. Better if you can couple beauty and youth with wealth and charity. You personify every quality to make our project a huge success, Sophia.” And spend more time at my side.

“I hadn’t looked at it that way,” muttered Edward.

Ashley tapped her finger on her red mouth. “Mr. Ashford makes a fair point, Sophia.”

As always. He smiled charmingly at Ashley, “Ethan, my dear, please.” His attention wandered back to Sophia. “See, darling,” his hands made their way back to her shoulders and his azure eyes glowed with excitement, “your CEO and PR director agree with me. Say, November? We’ll raise even more awareness for the new branches in Asia. And funds, of course.”

“I’ll think about it, Ethan,” she replied with a smile. And my answer will probably be no. She looked at Ashley asking for help.

Ash discreetly winked, understanding. “I’ll take a look at her schedule, Mr. Ashford, and get back to you.”

“Ashford.” Fuck off. Alistair’s arm snaked around Sophia’s waist and pulled her to him, as his free hand stretched to shake Ethan’s.

“MacCraig. Congratulations on the exhibition.” Your best piece is in your arms right now. The moment you let go, I’ll have her back.

Don’t you dare paw Sophia again. “The gallery’s guiding principle is to show what our most exciting artists are making nowadays. We aim to make art more accessible to the mainstream, without losing the exclusivity.” She is the one and only. Exclusively mine.

Edward rolled his eyes at Sophia, who was struggling to control her laughter, as Ashley looked away with a huge smile on her lips.

Exclusivity of Sophia, you mean. “Indeed. I heard you’ve created an art fund and that it’s already closed to new entrants. I’ll be interested if there’s a new one.” Interested in Sophia, I mean.

You don’t fool me, Ashford. “Aye. It was a huge success. My brother,” he signaled to Tavish, who excused himself from a group of buyers and made his way to where they were, “is in charge of the gallery and the art fund. I’m sure he can explain it to you better.”

Family business, huh? Ethan watched the younger and more handsome version of Alistair approach them, smile at Sophia before acknowledging the others. Your perdition is in your own home, MacCraig.

“Ashford, my brother Tavish Uilleam.” He’ll be watching you too, Ashford.

“Gentlemen, Ash, Zahira,” Sophia said to the group, “if you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

“Don’t wander too far, my love.” Alistair didn’t miss the chance and whirled her in his arms, planting a kiss on her mouth. She’s mine, see Ashford?

She rolled her eyes at his smirk. “I’ll be right back.” Good God, Alistair Connor. What’s this show for?

“Jesus,” Tavish’s murmur called Alistair’s attention away from Edward, Ashley, Zahira and Ethan as they talked of the LO and Ashford ball. His eyes were fixed on something Alistair couldn’t see.

“What is it?” Alistair inquired.

“Excuse us for a moment,” Tavish bit out harshly and lugged Alistair by the arm to the stairs. They climbed up a few steps before he faced Alistair and hissed, “Are you crazy? What is she doing here?”

What? “Who? Doing what?”

Tavish grabbed Alistair by the upper arm pointing to the end of the center room where a blonde woman was draped on the arm of a member of the House of Lords. As she strolled through the room, heads turned in her direction.

Fuck. “That bitch.” His eyes searched the three main rooms for Sophia. “Where is Sophia? I can’t see her.”

“She’s probably gone to the toilet. Go look for her. I’ll take care of this.”

Alistair’s hand stopped Tavish as cold sweat trickled down his back. “Diplomacy, Tavish Uilleam. The gallery is full and I don’t want a scandal.” And that’s all she wants.

“Don’t worry, Brother. Of course, I’ll be discreet.”

You are anything but diplomatic where my past is concerned. “Wait.”

Tavish paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at his brother, who was calmly descending with a smile on his face and a nonchalant pose.

If anyone had looked at Alistair, no one would have guessed the dread coursing through his veins. He knew what Emma was capable of. Since that day in the restaurant at Berkshire, she’d been hounding him to get him back. In her bank account. In her bed.

This is not a coincidence. “Call Leo. Look for Sophia. I’ll handle Emma.”

“Ma’am,” the waiter handed Sophia a crystal flute filled with freezing cold Cristal Louis Roederer.

“Thank y-”

Sophia saw disaster open its jaws to receive her, as someone roughly bumped into her back. Her hands shot forward to balance herself.

Her glass flew away, exploding against a sculpture of twisted iron forming a macabre rainbow made of sharp shards and splashed champagne.

Sophia, her shawl and her purse fell on the mess of glass and golden liquid.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, controlling her need to cry, reeling with embarrassment.

Two waiters immediately helped her from the mess.

“Here. Let me help,” a velvet coated voice and a soft arm over Sophia’s shoulders guided her to the nearby bathroom.

“Thanks,” she murmured, head lowered, not bothering to pick up her shawl or clutch. All she wanted was to be away from there. I’m not going to cry. I’m not.

As she walked to the toilet, she brushed away the small pieces of glass from her wet dress. A piece caught in her palm and she flinched. She turned her hand up and pulled it out, biting her lip to stop the flow of tears. Idiot. Idiot.

“Here, my dear.” The arm guided her inside the bathroom.

“Thanks, you’re so kind,” she whispered, through the lump in her throat, as she entered the huge travertine marble room.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, Sophia’s eyes rounded. Her dress was torn and stained, her knees were scrapped and bruised and one of her legs was cut, a shard protruding from it.

God! Oh. My. God! She was so shocked with her appearance that she didn’t hear the lock on the bathroom door being turned.

Tavish felt as if he was watching a humorless slapstick film.

He opened his mouth to get Sophia’s attention from the other side of the huge room, but it happened too quickly for him to warn her. Emma approached Sophia from behind, waited for her to get her champagne glass and pushed her against a John Chamberlain sculpture.

He cut through the chatter of people who didn’t seem to notice the accident, ordering the waiters to clean the mess.

When he looked around for Sophia, she was already gone.

Alistair’s head snapped up when he heard the noise of breaking glass, but he was too far away to see what had happened. Christ! Let it not be Sophia.

He crossed the rooms, a fixed smile on his face, his eyes scanning the crowds for Sophia or Emma.

But neither was anywhere to be seen.

Their eyes locked in the mirror.

Damn! What the hell does she want?

Emma Miller was a gorgeous woman. Natural blonde hair cascaded down to frame a perfect face, where blue eyes with mascara painted lashes were blistering and plump lips were sneering. She was very tall and lean and her sexy and cruel nature screamed from inside the Hervé Leger short black bandage dress.

“So. You’re the chosen one,” Emma tilted her head, raking her cold gaze over Sophia with spite. “Hmm. Alistair Connor used to have better taste.”

Sophia put her hands on the sink to steady her jelly legs and lifted her chin, “And you are?” I’m not giving you this to gloat over.

“Emma Miller, his sister-in-law.” Her hand traveled down her body, from her breast to her thigh. “He used to fuck us. Alistair, Heather and I had some great times together.”

The thoughts were wiped clean from Sophia’s mind at the same time that bile rose in her throat.

“Shocked, my dear? I have it all photographed and filmed when I want to reminisce. Maybe you’d like to join me?”

Disgusting, repulsive, sick. Sophia bit back all the harsh retorts that came to her mind, deciding that silence was the best treatment for that woman. Her cuts were stinging from the champagne and her hands and legswere throbbing and hurting now that her blood had cooled down.

Sophia raised an elegant eyebrow at the woman, dismissing her and, with her heart hammering hard in her chest, she turned and walked to the door on trembling legs.

She pressed the handle down and pulled the door. And pushed.

Sophia rounded, facing Emma. “Open the door.”

Emma tut-tutted. “That’s the education your mother gave you?”

Screw you, bitch. Sophia stiffened and pushed her shoulders back, narrowing her eyes at Emma. “Ever since I first saw you in Berkshire, I knew you were a debased woman.”

“A whore, you mean,” Emma smiled amused at the formal way Sophia spoke.

Whore, if you prefer. “What do you want?”

“Me? Nothing. I just wanted to say hello,” she purred as she stepped closer, backing Sophia onto the wall, “and acquaint myself with the woman who had fucked up the head and the dick of the hottest man in the UK.”

Not me. Sophia thinned her lips. You and your sister, dammit.

“Alistair and I, we’ve been seeing each other,” Emma smiled when her half-lie made Sophia blink, surprised. “Oh! Don’t worry. I like real men. Not pussy whipped losers,” she snorted as she stepped closer. “I thought I’d taken away that nasty habit of his. But it seems that it’s back.”

Wait. What? What is she talking about? What does she know? Sophia didn’t deign to answer.

“He’s so fucked up now that he didn’t even let me give him a little blow job. For old times’ sake.” Emma stretched her hand and her fingers traced the jagged scars on Sophia’s left arm.

Sophia pushed her back, hissing, “Do. Not. Touch. Me.”

“Oh! The little cat has claws.” A cruel smile opened slowly on Emma’s face as she examined Sophia’s arm carefully, clearly enjoying the situation. “He’ll tire of you, kitty-kitty. He’s a man with wild, hungry passions,” she ran her hands over her body and licked her lips in slow motion. “Wild like you couldn’t ever imagine; hungry in a way you will never be able to fulfill-”

Before she could even think about what she was doing, Sophia’s hand flew at Emma’s face. She used the moment to push Emma away, freeing herself from the corner. “Give me the damn key!”

“Oh! Now we’re having some fun,” Emma dabbed at the blood on her lip and licked it clean from her fingers.

This is disgusting!

She opened her purse and looked at Sophia with a dark grin and a strange gleam in her blue eyes, “Or what?”

“GIVE ME!” Sophia screamed. Screw the press. Screw everything. I want out of here. “NOW!”

Male, angry voices could be heard from the other side of the door and the handle shook.

They heard as Alistair shouted for Emma to open the door and ordered someone to get a spare key and call the police.

Yeah. Sophia smiled confidently and stepped closer to take the purse from the woman. “The key, bitch! Or I’ll press charges.”

“Ah! Now we are talking, bitch,” she drawled and laughed, “I like how you say it!” Emma’s eyes flashed as she put her hand inside the purse and took out, not the key, but a beautiful mother-of-pearl butterfly knife. “You already have two scars.” With a flick of her wrist, she opened the blade. “How about I carve a few more?”

Oh, damn. Damn! DAMN! Sophia’s adrenaline spiked. She put her hands up. “Okay, now. You don’t want to do this.”

“I do, kitty-kitty. He’ll remember me every time he fucks you.”

“You’ll be arrested.” She looked for something to defend herself with, but there was nothing in the modern luxury bathroom. Her eyes paused on a pair of tall, heavy Baccarat Spirale vases filled with purple Tulips on a table in the furthest corner. A few feet away.

“Will not, kitty. I have his photos. Fucking,” she gloated and left the threat hanging in the air.

Sophia considered her options. Three, four paces max. It’s all I have.

“You need a prettier face, kitty,” Emma drawled as she got closer.

Concentrate, Sophia. She tuned out the pounding on the door and Alistair’s shouted commands, blocking out everything but Emma’s movements and hers.

She angled her body and moved cautiously back, flexing her right hand, preparing to grab the spiral end of the crystal vase. You can’t miss it, Sophia. You can’t.

One.

Emma followed, smirking, brandishing the knife.

Two.

She lost her balance when her hurt leg faltered and her heel caught in a small indentation between the marble slabs. The blade pierced Sophia’s dress and pricked her left arm.

Sophia gasped in pain. Warm blood trickled down slowly.

Focus. Don’t look down. She rightened herself and hauled in a gulp of air, struggling not to black out.

Three.

Sophia’s hand groped the wall for the table. Emma’s arm shot forward again. A gash opened on the Sophia’s left forearm and a piercing cry left her mouth.

“You scream like a dying pig,” Emma smirked.

Four.

Sophia turned and snatched the vase.

With a hard yank, her right arm sliced the air with the vase.

Emma smiled darkly and flung the knife in the direction of Sophia’s navel as the vase slipped from Sophia’s hand and flew through the air.

Both women cried out loud.

Chapter 31

Nerves wound tight and seething, Alistair paced the corridor outside the bathroom as they waited for the spare key. Sophia’s first scream robbed him of the last of his patience.

“Get out of my way,” he shouted and crashed his shoulder against the door. It rattled, but didn’t give.

“Wait,” Tavish’s hand stopped him from throwing himself against the door a second time. “Let’s do it together. On three.”

Alistair heaved when both women cried one last time, but paced away taking distance and giving his brother his back. “Ready?”

Tavish nodded and counted, “One. Two. Three.”

The brothers threw themselves against the door, flinging it off its hinges.

Alistair looked around horrified.

In the middle of the bathroom floor among water, purple tulips and the broken Baccarat vase, Emma was lying in a pool of blood that was gushing from her face.

“Call an ambulance,” he shouted over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping the room. Fuck! Where is she? Breathe, Alistair Connor! It’s not the time for panic. “Sophia!” He stepped over Emma and his heart stopped for a second when he saw her.

“Sophia!!” He fell on his knees in front of a very pale Sophia, sitting with back against the wall. His eyes and hands hovered over her bloodied dress and the knife stuck on her stomach not knowing exactly what to do. Fuck, fuck! “Mo gradh, don’t worry. Everything will be okay,” he said resolutely.

“Cold,” she whispered through blue lips, a loud roar filling her ears. Her wide dark eyes roamed over him as he immediately took off his jacket. “I’m cold.”

“Lay her down after you put your jacket on her,” Tavish ordered calmly, kneeling beside her with a first aid kit.

“How?” He eyed pointedly at the blade protruding from between her fingers.

“Right, Alistair Connor, keep her calm. Keep her warm. Lay her down, but be careful not to jolt her. I’ll put a dressing around the wound, and apply pressure. Any doubts?” Tavish didn’t even look at him and kept his voice soothingly calm. “Do it. Quickly and calmly. The shock will have lowered her blood pressure and body temperature.”

Oh, Christ! Let it not be as bad as it looks. “All right,” he gently put his jacket over her and laid her down. Neither his hands, nor his face betrayed the guilt and shock he was feeling inside. I’ve brought this on her.

“Let me,” Tavish took her fingers from her belly and put his handkerchief around the blade, pressing down firmly. He looked up at an ashen Edward on the threshold. “Give me your jacket too.”

Sophia’s gaze shifted to Tavish as a giddy, floating sensation took hold of her. Am I going to die? “Numb.”

He squinted at the blade and back at her face. “The wound doesn’t seem deep. The cold is from the shock, okay? Don’t move.”

As if I would go dancing, you moron. The thought seemed so out of place that her lips curled up.

Leonard entered the room with two police officers. His face was taut and he stepped over Emma to squat near them. “The ambulance is coming. How is she?”

“Mostly superficial cuts. Nothing to worry about,” Tavish said soothingly, smiling back at her, covering her legs with Edward’s jacket and directing Alistair’s fingers to substitute his.

A strange calm had fallen over Sophia as she observed Tavish’s sure movements. She couldn’t see the woman on the floor, but her presence was grating on her nerves. Her gaze moved back to Alistair’s face. Apart from a slight darkening in his eyes, he maintained a calmness that helped keep at bay the panic that was threatening to pull her down. Did I kill...? “Is she...” She couldn’t say the word or bear the thought of one more death hanging over her head.

Alistair understood the question, but he couldn’t care less if Emma was dead or not.

Tavish grinned, shaking his head at her. “Only you, Sophia.”

But, for her, there was nothing funny in the possibility.

Alistair noticed Emma’s chest expand and deflate. “Unfortunately, she’s still alive.”

“The ambulance must be arriving at any moment,” Tavish said rising.

“Tavish Uilleam.” Alistair’s growl was full of menace and anger.

Tavish stopped. “Brother?”

“Let her rot.” In hell.

London, Marylebone. The London Clinic Main Hospital.

Wednesday, June 2nd, 2010.

3.17 p.m.

Whispered voices shrieked inside her ears. Bright lights sucked her away from the darkness. She was feeling dizzy and weak. And her fuzzy brain couldn’t tell her why.

She shivered and slowly opened her eyes. Gravity suddenly weighted on her and she hurt. Everywhere.

Oh, God. Emma. She closed her eyes and moaned.

A door closed and soft steps approached her.

“I’m here,” Alistair bent down and pressed his lips tight on her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Hurt. All over. Lights, please,” she whispered. When the brightness diminished, she peered at him through half open eyelids, only to close them again. I’m so tired. Take me home, meu amor.

She can’t even bear to look at me. He sat on the edge of the bed beside her.

“Can I go home?”

“I believe so. The nurse just left and said everything looks good. He even took you off the IV, but you were sleeping so profoundly that you only sighed. The doctor has been here twice. She will come back later. She said it’s a normal reaction. You blood pressure lowered and you lost some blood. But the wound wasn’t too deep. She said that the best medicine for you is to rest now.” He spoke every thought that came to his mind to scare away the frustration with his inability to protect her.

It was weird to listen to Alistair’s babbling. He was never nervous. In her fuzzy state, she gave it the briefest passing thought and let it go.

All she wanted was to go home and sleep for days until all this had dissolved into nothing more than a horrible nightmare.

“Gabriela?”

“With Alice. Safe and sound. And happy. We didn’t tell her what happened.”

All she could do was nod. She ached in so many places that she couldn’t have done more.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her pale face with dark shadows under her eyes. His gaze hovered over her shoulders and arms. Two white dressings on her arm was all he could see now. Tavish said she had been very lucky. And the doctors confirmed. A couple of inches to the side and farther into her stomach and the blade would have hit the femoral artery. She could have died. And he was responsible. “Sophia.”

She opened her eyes, astounded by the stern way he said her name. Is he mad at me? Or... “Is she okay?”

Really? He snorted. “The vase hit her temple and broke the skin. That’s why there was so much blood. She had some stitches and her face is badly swollen and bruised. That’s all.” And a concussion that will keep her in hospital for a day or so. You hit hard, my love.

Oh, God, thank you. Tears of relief filled her eyes and she turned her face into the pillow trying to hide her angst and horror at what the situation that could have been.

“Don’t cry, mo cridhe. Emma deserved it.” And much more.

Maybe. But I don’t want any more deaths on my CV. Guilt, confusion and anger wedged their ways into her mind and a dam of tears broke loose.

Oh, Christ. He leaned over her and cradled her gently onto his chest, comforting her. “Hush, sweetheart, hush.”

And what if she comes after you next time? Sophia wrapped her arms around his broad back and cried.

Believing he was the main cause of her distress, her disheartened tears compressed around his heart. He ran his hand over her back, saying tender words, but nothing seemed to calm her. He understood it was the psychological trauma. However, he couldn’t deny that the stabbing had come from his past.

She’s young, gentle and beautiful. She needs a better man. He had dragged her into his complicated life and she deserved much more than he could possibly offer her. Without her, you’ll be a hollow shell. Don’t even think about the alternative.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered with a last shuddered sob. She let her arms fall on the bed. He lowered her and she wiped her face dry with the sheet.

“I’m sorry too.”

For once, in an unselfish and fair conclusion, he decided to give her an option. His deep intake of breath called her attention to his face.

Alistair looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept the whole night. Dark whiskers shadowed his jaw and his forest green eyes were bloodshot. Troubled. And pained.

Sophia had seen enough hurt in his eyes to know that he carried too much weight in his soul and that he had added tons to it since yesterday. A tremor washed through her. “I don’t want to hear-”

His fingers came to rest tenderly on her mouth. “Let me speak, please. What happened yesterday, was all my fault. I should have known that she would be there. I should have instructed security better. They looked in her purse and found nothing. Fuck!” He ran a hand through his hair exasperated, rising from the bed and pacing the room like a caged tiger. “She was armed to kill, for Christ’s sake.”

She heard his regret in his measured pacing. It was now mixed with insecurity, sorrow and a desire to clean the slate and start fresh. A desire she knew very well. She was surprised she could judge his emotions so precisely. She was still feeling dizzy and faint. Then it dawned on her that she would have understood him at any other time. Because it was him, the man she loved more than herself.

Away from the bed, he spun on his heels and his troubled eyes fixed on hers.

“I... I wish I could undo my past. I wish I could go back and be whole again. For you. To have lived a different life, but... I can’t,” his voice acquired a gruff tone that belied his stoic face, “I’ll understand if you-”

“Are you being serious?” she cut in, not believing her ears. She held out her hand trying to bridge the distance between them. Losing him would destroy her.

He tilted his head considering it before he walked back to her bed and took it, standing rigidly beside her.

Her eyes fixed on his and, unapologetically, painfully, skinned him bare, down to the soul.

He closed his eyes and kept his distance as if this would save him from her redeeming touch. She tugged and he sat on the edge of her bed.

“Are you blaming yourself? For a lunatic?” This is about you, Alistair Connor. My Highland warrior. My Lord Caveman. My love. Mine. “Don’t you dare do this. Because, Alistair Connor, you yourself have already made me wonderful promises that I want to see fulfilled. You, Alistair Connor, are mine to decide what to do with. You lost all the rights over yourself when you put that ring on my finger.” She watched his face for a clue. Lighten the mood, Sophia. She wiggled her right fingers at him. “By the way, where is that heavy, gray rock? I want it back.”

His lips curled up in a ghost of a smile. You don’t want to discuss the subject. I know you by now. Sometimes you’re infuriatingly stubborn, but damned if I don’t love you even more. He rose and crossed the room. Unlocking the safe inside the wardrobe, he took her ring and walked back.

“Here, milady.” Softly, he pushed the ring on her finger.

She grinned at him, “It’s only coming off this hand again, when it goes on to the left one. Understood?”

He bowed his head, smiling back, “Absolutely.” Christ, Sophia, this is not about your next shopping spree. It’s serious.

Change the subject, Alistair Connor. I will never let you go.

The door opened after a knock and a petite Chinese woman wearing a white coat over a blue printed dress emerged in the room. “Ah! I see our patient is awake,” she said with a smile. “I’m doctor Chen Lan. How are you feeling?”

What do you think? “Apart from hurting all over? I’m fine. I just want to go home,” Sophia answered.

The doctor checked her vital signs with practiced movements, talking the whole time in a light tone. She wrote on Sophia’s chart and signed it. “You’re free to go. I need your promise to rest. You’re very lucky the cut was not too deep. Still it is a stabbing, so it needs care. I’ll be right back with your out-patient instructions and the list of medicine you’ll have to take.”

Atwood House.

8.37 p.m.

Standing before the TV, clutching a remote in one hand and his cell phone against his ear, Alistair swung round as she emerged from Gabriela’s room into the TV room, “Aye, I think it’d be better. Come by.”

“Who’s coming by?” Sophia was using a loose black long flowing dress, her hair pilled high on her head.

“Davidoff and Ash. They need to talk to you. They’ll be here in a few minutes,” he said as he consulted his watch. He ran a hand over his tired face. “Sit, Sophia.”

What now? She cocked her head to the side gauging his mood, but his characteristic poker face was in place. She sat on the comfortable sofa and stretched her legs on the ottoman he had pushed in her direction.

“Comfortable?”

“Spill, Handsome. I’m not made of glass,” she patted the sofa beside her where he sat.

“The police have been here, when you were with Gabriela. They need your statement. I told them-”

“I won’t press charges,” she whispered.

You’re kidding me, right? His jaw clenched and he narrowed his eyes at her before asking, “Why not?”

Because. “I don’t want to go to the police or to court. I don’t want the newspapers sniffing around and writing more than they already are. I don’t want to see our lives transformed into a circus, Alistair Connor.”

“She could have killed you.” These excuses are ridiculous, Counselor. I’m not convinced.

I’m here, aren’t I? “Yeah, she could have,” she sighed. “But still, I don’t want to press charges.” She could seek revenge on you. On us.

“This is not-” Something in her eyes made him stop. “What is it, Sophia?”

Your past haunting you. “I’ve gone through this once. I don’t have the strength to do it all again. Please... Try to understand.”

“I see,” he breathed not seeing at all, but he let it go. She was already too distressed to start a discussion. Without a word, he turned on the TV.

Sophia closed her eyes and rested her head on a cushion, enjoying the homely and peaceful feeling. Alistair’s fingers fluttered over the back of her hand and her forearm lulling her into a delicious sleepy haze.

“Mrs. Leibowitz,” Zareb’s voice came through the sound system, “Mr. Davidoff and Ms. Carruthers have arrived.”

“Mmm,” she complained, opening her eyes and grabbing the phone on the side table. “Okay, Zareb. Send them up, please.”

Alistair rose to greet them as they appeared at the top of the stairs, “Davidoff, Ash.”

“MacCraig,” Edward shook Alistair’s hand and came to Sophia’s side, squatting beside her. His blue eyes were concerned when he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Hello, love. How are you?”

“Beaten,” she breathed and blinked to whisk away the tears that gathered in her eyes. Sophia was having trouble keeping her feelings in check. She was going through a whole mix of emotions - fear, anger, pain, guilt. All at the same time.

“I know the feeling,” he whispered, hugging her in his arms. “It’ll get better in a few days.”

A shuddered breath left her lips, “Yeah, I know. Dr. Kent was here earlier and we talked.”

“Hello, my dear. We were worried.” Ashley kissed her cheek and smiled, “I’m booking you for my defense class.” She sloshed in the armchair across Edward with a wry smile “Maybe you can teach us a few moves.”

That drew a smile from Sophia.

“What can I offer you?” Alistair asked as Edward took off his jacket and loosened his tie.

“Just water,” said Ashley, “we haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Then you’ll eat with us.” Sophia picked up the phone and informed Aisha that they would be four at dinner.

Edward’s eyes searched Alistair’s before he flung himself in the armchair and stared at Sophia. “Sophia. Listen closely. I- We think it’s best if you disappear for some days until everything is back to normal.”

Disappear? “I beg your pardon?” she whispered. What do you mean?

A happy female voice coming from the TV called Alistair’s attention and he stiffened when he saw the images. The camera had filmed Sophia and Emma leaving the gallery in ambulances.

Fuck. He reached for the remote control to switch off the TV when Sophia ordered, “Don’t.”

His gaze riveted to her face. Her face was pale and she had thinned her lips.

“-Gabriel Leibowitz’s widow, owner of Leibowitz Oil International. She’s been living here in London for two years hiding under her maiden name. She has since become engaged to Lord Alistair MacCraig, the Marquis of Ells and CEO of The City of London Bank. Yesterday, she was stabbed during the VIP opening of his art gallery, The Blue Dot, in Chelsea. The crime is still unexplained and, it is believed, was perpetrated by Lord Ells’s late wife’s sister, Emma Miller. Until this edition, no charges have been pressed and the police chief said he could make no comments. We’ve tried to reach her family in Rio de Janeiro, but no one was available to answer our questions. All the Leibowitz Oil employees are refusing to comment on the episode. From São Paulo, Brazil, our correspondent, Silvia Marques, has more news.”

Alberto Leibowitz appeared on the screen, with his arm around Rose. The reporter introduced them and asked what Alberto could tell her about his daughter-in-law.

“Sophia Espírito Santo, the woman our son married, has been declared psychiatrically unstable more than once by doctors and has even lost custody of her daughter.” He shook papers to emphasize his statement. “She kidnapped our baby granddaughter after our son died and has disappeared with her. We’re taking legal measures to correct this. Our lawyers have been directed to petition the English courts, proving her incapacity and requiring that custody of our granddaughter be given to us. Justice will prevail.” Alberto’s voice had the kind of mad tone one would be scared off.

No! Never! A strangled sound left Sophia’s mouth and she bit down on her bottom lip to avoid the tears that seemed unending.

“Fucking press,” Alistair switched off the TV after the subject changed. He didn’t need a degree in psychology to guess how it would rankle such a proud woman as Sophia to hear her life being dissected publicly. He knew she used her pride as a mask to avoid people getting near her. Anxiety flowed from her body, and when she reached up to dry her eyes, Alistair gently lifted her onto his lap. His fingers slid into her raven locks, pushing her head in the hollow of his shoulder. His large hand rubbed her back, to take away some of the stress he had caused. He would do anything to ease her pain.

Can this get any worse? She leaned her head on him and closed her eyes, softly sighing.

“What do you want to do?” Edward’s question was meant for her, but he was looking at Alistair.

Sophia looked up at Alistair, then at Edward’s face. “If I follow your advice? Simply hide again?”

“It’s not going to work anymore. They’ll chase you. Until you tire... Or break,” Ashley informed without preambles.

“So, we grab the bull by the horns,” Alistair met Edward’s gaze head on.

“Well, that’s Ash’s suggestion. However... knowing Sophia as I do, I’d rather she disappeared.”

Sophia met Alistair’s gaze with resolute eyes. “I don’t want my personal life strewn across the front page of these English tabloids.”

“Sophia, sweetheart,” Alistair murmured, “I don’t think you have a choice in the matter anymore.”

“Neither do I. Either we give them something, or they’re going to do their worst and dig up whatever they can,” Ashley opened her laptop and started typing.

Edward considered her face with caution before he said, “With Alberto on your trail...who knows what can come out. He can make something up that’s much worse. I fully understand your desire for privacy, but the press, it’s the lesser of two evils.”

Dammit. Sophia turned her teary gaze on Edward. “I hate the press.”

He smiled at her wryly, “I’m sure they feel the opposite about you. You’re it right now. You’re only going to help sales if you disappear.”

“Rumors will brew and spread,” Ash snorted, “I’ve seen it became uncontrollable.”

“I don’t want Gabriela involved. I’ll do everything I can to protect her,” she stated.

Alistair’s hand squeezed hers. “Relax. Nobody will hurt her. Nor you, for that matter. They just want to sell their dirty papers.”

“I suggest a press conference, tomorrow at lunch time. That way I’ll have time to call those I think are most malleable and block the worst scum,” Ashley lifted her eyes waiting for Sophia’s agreement.

Sophia searched Alistair’s strength.

He tightened his arms around her. “I’m here to support your decision even though I think a press conference should be held.”

Oh, damn. Here it comes again. “Tomorrow, midday then. Ash, limit the number to ten journalists-” Ashley shook her head. “Twenty then. One question each. After that I’ll spend a month in an abbey in confinement.”

“Airgead,” suggested Alistair. “I can work from the Inverness office if needed.”

Home. She nodded, “Airgead, it is then.”

“So, let’s prepare ourselves for tomorrow,” said Ashley in her business like way.

“Wait!” Alistair interjected. “I have an idea. If it works, the press conference will be much easier to handle.”

London, Chelsea, Fulham Road.

Chelsea and Westminster Hospital.

Thursday, June 3rd, 2010.

4.58 p.m.

The flashes and the excited voices swarmed Emma as she exited the hospital.

A microphone was thrown in her face by a thin man. “Ms. Miller, Ms. Miller! Why did you stab Mrs. Leibowitz?”

“Ms. Miller, were you jealous of your brother-in-law? What kind of relationship do you have?” That came from a woman in black.

Emma smiled softly and raised her hands. “Ladies, Gentlemen. As Mrs. Leibowitz and Lord Ells have already explained it was all a big misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” Another journalist snorted. “That was your blade in Mrs. Leibowitz’s stomach. Did you try to kill her?”

Emma made a horrified face. “How could you think that? Dear Sophia tripped and fell on some broken glass. She cut herself. I was just trying to help take away the shards. But I slipped on some water on the floor and I fell. Unfortunately, it all happened so quick that the blade flew from my hand. I tried to balance myself, but hit my head on the vase. Seems we were both unlucky.”

“Do you honestly expect us to believe that, Ms. Miller?” asked the thin man.

Emma shrugged. “You can believe what you want. My brother-in-law was here this morning again. He visited me for a whole hour. You can check the register, if you want. Do you think if I had tried to kill his fiancée, he would have visited me? And poor Sophia, she is a well known lawyer. Do you think she wouldn’t have pressed charges if I had tried to kill her?”

“So Ms. Miller, what you’re saying is that you and Lord Ells are still good friends?”

The ironic tone of the question wasn’t missed by Emma. “Good friends? No. Alistair, Lord Ells, I mean, he was married to my sister for many years and, during that time, we were friends. Now, we’re acquaintances who wish each other well. That’s it. Ladies, gentlemen, I must go. I’m still recovering from my fall and that dramatic evening.” She raised her hand stopping any more questions. “I thank you, but I really must go.”

She crossed the street and entered the black car that was waiting for her near the curb. She closed the door and turned to the young man inside, “How was that, honey?”

“I didn’t know you were such an accomplished actress, my dear,” he gave her a peck on the lips.

“Money works miracles, my dear. It works miracles.” Emma smiled at him. “And now I have Alistair at my beck and call, I will keep it coming.”

Airgead Caisteal.

Saturday, June 5th, 2010.

4.05 p.m.

They followed the kids to the center of the biggest maze Sophia had ever seen.

“You sit here and rest,” Alistair pointed to the bench in the center.

If she could, she would have bowed. Instead, she waved her hand in the air with a flourish and mocked, “Yes, sire. Any other orders?”

Alistair didn’t smile, though. “I’m not kidding, Sophia. How can I go play with the kids if I have to keep an eye on you?”

“Relax,” Tavish put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of her.”

Tavish sat next to Sophia as Alistair and Alice took Gabriela, Ariadne and Michael to play hide and seek. His mind filled with images of Alistair and him playing warriors there as children. Two happy and innocent boys, that couldn’t have imagined what life had in store for them.

Tavish observed his brother as he picked Gabriela up in his arms and threw her up in the air. He didn’t want to think what would have happened to his brother if Sophia and Gabriela hadn’t appeared in Alistair’s life. He had been in danger of becoming too jaded as he tasted every sin, drowned himself in every sensation.

Tavish leaned back, crossed his hands behind his head and stretched his long legs. He looked at the woman responsible for the remarkable changes in his brother and concern made him ask, “Have you had any more flashbacks?”

When she turned to look at him, she had an uneasy look on her face.

“I- I don’t know...” She hesitated. Talking about her amnesia was awkward and hurtful. It made her remember how broken she was. “I- Nothing like the one at Ells Hall. I’ve talked with Felipe, my brother, and with my grandmother. I don’t know if it could be called a flashback, but... a few things they’ve told me helped me remember facts that were fuzzy in mind.”

He shifted on the seat to look at her. “Amnesia is not easy to deal with.”

“Understatement of the year, Tavish Uilleam,” she put a hand on his forearm. “It’s horrible not to know things I should. It leaves me with a... helpless, fragile sensation. I’m not so sure of myself anymore.”

His warm hand covered hers and with a grimace he said, “I know.”

Sophia had had enough time and information from Alistair and Alice to realize that Tavish had also been through many dramatic, traumatic events. “You know what? In a way, I look at you and I see myself,” she told him.

Tavish stared at her for a long time.

“Some things weren’t supposed to happen,” he finally said, his voice gruff as the heavy weight that darkened his soul. He shook his head to send away the bad memories of those dark days. “You looked well on TV and in the newspapers. How did you do it, Sophia? They were there, wanting blood and in the end you had them wagging their tails at you.”

Sophia’s laugh ended in a gasp. She put a hand on her stomach. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, contrite. “I forgot...”

“No. Don’t be,” she answered with a smile on her face. “It’s good to laugh.”

Tavish tilted his head to the side, “From your behavior so far, no one would guess you had been through all that.”

“There’s no point in whining and complaining. I don’t have much patience for self-pity. And I find it immensely boring to be fussed over all the time.”

Tavish was eyeing her intently with a strange look in his face.

What?

He shifted on the seat and his eyes roamed over the maze. “Alistair Connor told me you aren’t pressing charges. Do you really think it’s wise?”

Sophia took a long time to answer. “No. I don’t think it’s wise. Not at all. However... I don’t want to draw more attention to myself. Yeah, she deserves punishment, but... Can you imagine what she would say about, uh, Alistair’s relationship with...” she made a vague gesture with her hand. Shut up, Sophia. You don’t know if he knows.

“With?” Tavish put a leg on the bench, facing her. When she thinned her lips, he said gently, “Alistair Connor’s relationship with the two sisters?”

Dammit! She exhaled a loud breath of air and closed her eyes. “Is it common knowledge?”

“Nae. But I knew,” he answered. “So, you are protecting Alistair Connor.”

“And myself, and Gabriela and the future of our relationship. I was shocked when she told me he-” She opened her eyes and raised her eyebrows high. “Can you imagine the scandal?”

Tavish nodded, “Indeed. Looking at it that way...”

“Tavish Uilleam?” She bit her lip and lowered her lashes. Should I ask? Well, he’s a doctor. But, Sophia, he will guess...

“Sophia, you can ask me whatever you want,” he said and waited patiently.

Oh. Dammit. “Have you heard about a STD called Mycoplasma genitalium?”

He frowned, “Yes. Why?”

“Is it true... that it can cause sterility?”

“Human reproduction... or gynecology were never my speciality, but...” he studied her blushing face, intrigued.

Oh. God. He thinks the problem is mine. She didn’t correct him.

“What I have heard recently is that it is often quite difficult to diagnose because it usually occurs in conjunction with other infections, but it can easily be treated with antibiotics.” He didn’t know what to make of her question. Sophia didn’t look like a promiscuous woman. “Well, to answer you, if Mycoplasma genitalium is left untreated, it may cause infertility, yes.”

Sophia’s previous happiness deflected, “Oh... And is there any-”

“Mama, Mama.” Gabriela arrived running, interrupting them. “Mama, Alistair told me there’re daffodils near the loch. Can we go there?”

Alice and Sophia followed Tavish and Alistair out of the maze and down toward the loch through a lane lined with tall, old sequoias. The girls ran ahead together, shrieking at Michael that he was a rotten egg.

She turned to Alice, “The estate is enormous.”

“Yes, it is. And it’s very costly to maintain. That’s why they are all resorts. We’re building airstrips and helipads at each one to make them more accessible.”

They talked about inane things until they reached an open lawn.

Sophia stopped short with her mouth agape.

To their left were the famous Airgead gardens. They covered sixteen acres of formal lawns and flowerbeds, in vibrant yellows, oranges and reds along with Conifers and fine specimens such as Sequoiadendron Wellingtonia, Cryptomeria Japonica and others, backed by an extensive woodland and forested mountains. On the other side, the castle gleamed under the sun with the Craigdale coat of arms flag on the top of the roof waving at them and in front of them the loch beckoned with its calm waters.

“This is...” Sophia had no words to describe the amazing view.

Alice smiled. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Otherworldly. This is where I want to get married. In an impulse, Sophia turned to Alice and taking her hand, asked, “Alice, you have received me with opened arms into your family and in your home. Would you help me with the wedding?”

“Oh, Sophia! I’d be delighted. Delighted,” Alice’s smile was emotional as she hugged Sophia. “We’re so happy that Alistair Connor has found you.”

“The traditions here are so different from Brazil. I went crazy with all those princes and peers on Alistair’s and your father’s guest lists. There are so many things to do and... I’m lost. I won’t be able to do it all alone. And Alistair is not very forthcoming with help.”

“You can count on me. For anything.”

They smiled at each other and followed the men down to the loch, chatting and laughing about Sophia’s inventive ideas for the wedding.

Chapter 32

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

Friday, July 2nd, 2010.

3.07 p.m.

“I’ve never seen him so depressed. He’s thinner. And unshaved. What’s happening Scott?” Barbara’s leg was jerking up and down nervously as she sat in Scott’s office on the first floor of Ethan’s penthouse. “Do you think it’s something I’ve done?”

“Oh. Don’t flatter yourself, my dear. The problem is this. Or rather, her.” Scott handed her the biggest of the cream envelopes that were under a glass weight on his desk. “He has been like this since this arrived yesterday morning.”

“What is it?” Barbara took out a beautiful invitation from the envelope. A watercolor painting depicted the Craigdale coat of arms over the imposing entrance to Airgead flanked by sequoias and flowery shrubs. At the bottom of the card there was a stylized monogram with the letters S and AC . She opened the heavy card. “Ah... I see. Is he going?” she asked handing back the envelope and card to Scott.

“Of course. To all the events,” he tapped on the envelopes.

She raised her eyebrows and picked them up. She whistled. “Five parties in a row! I’ve never seen such beautiful invitations! All hand-made. Am I going?”

Scott crossed his arms and smirked at her, “Yes. And no! You are accompanying him but no, you aren’t going to the parties. But don’t you worry, my dear, he has already asked me to buy you a consolation prize.”

“A consolation prize! I bet he is buying her something memorable. This is so unfair,” she huffed. “You could help me with him, Scott. Praise me to him.”

“Mr. Ashford may seem frivolous and selfish. Sometimes, he is scary and insufferable, I know.” He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. “But let me tell you one thing, Sophia. I thank God every day for having met him. He has been my fairy godfather. He knows how to value the people that serve him well. Do you remember that loan you asked him?” Scott opened a drawer and took out an envelope. “He is planning to give you the promissory note you signed as a birthday present. Plus the other present for accompanying him to Scotland for a week. Don’t be an idiot, Sophia. You have a treasure in your hands.”

Barbara blinked at Scott’s fierce defense. “Bu-but, Scott-”

“Don’t but me. Think. Use your brain! He loves that woman. Say a word against her and you are fired. Don’t you think that I am shocked by his ways sometimes? Oh, yes. However, my dear, this is real life. I have a sick mother and younger siblings to raise. Understand Mr. Ashford’s ways. Learn how to manage him.” Scott leaned back, fixing Barbara with his eyes, and twirled his Montblanc in his fingers. A wry smile appeared on his thin face when he finished, “Use him as he is using you.”

Essex, Saffron Walden. Galewick Hall.

Saturday, July 31st, 2010.

8.03 a.m.

Running his fingers through her long hair, Alistair sat on the bed and looked down at her. She was sleeping on her side, breathing softly. Her cheeks were pink from the warm air that was coming in through the open window. The bed covers were deliciously rumpled, smelling of vanilla. He spooned her and wrapped his arms around her body. In less than a week, you’ll be mine forever, you neurotic, domineering bride.

If Alistair thought himself a perfectionist, Sophia was obsessive.

If she thought him a tyrant, she was every inch the despot.

She’d asked for advice from her siblings, her grandmother, Alice and Domitila, had hired an army of people and, just like a maestrina, she conducted them all, supervising every little detail.

She chaired the wedding meetings as if she were dealing with a business transaction, with smoothness and an iron will. She decided on every color, taste, gift; she made sure she knew every person that was going to be invited, where they were going to be housed, what were their preferences and idiosyncrasies. Each room had been planned for its guests’ particularities with a personalized gift.

The wedding teams at Craigdale Castle, Airgead Caisteal and Dryad Manor were in love with her ideas and creativity.

Alistair could not say the same, though.

She had wanted his opinion on the cake, the favors, the menus, the seating plans, and things he had never imagined could exist. Every time he complained, his father and Leonard teased him that he should have married in Las Vegas.

When Alexander and Tavish also started to pester him, he cursed them with the same fate. Alexander shuddered, made the sign of the cross and never again teased him. Tavish had just smiled and said that if he wanted to change places he would oblige, and almost got punched in the eye.

And still I love this crazy woman just as she is. He chuckled happily. Soon you’ll be telling me what I can or can’t do.

“What?” she asked lazily, stretching against his warmth, as the rumble of his joy woke her up.

“You. If I’d had the faintest idea what I was creating when I gave you such a short deadline for marrying me, I would have eloped.”

“Hmm?”

“My own private paranoid, obsessive-compulsive Nessie,” Alistair squeezed her in his arms.

“A monster? Me? Ah! You shouldn’t have!” She turned to look at him. “What about you? You are an insensitive, obnoxious, overbearing, stubborn troglodyte, Lord Ells. It would have been easier to have done something small, just for the family or postponed the wedding till next year. But, you,” she poked in his chest, “you wanted to marry quickly and in style. I had to do everything alone.”

“Hey! Not totally alone. When I wasn’t making love to you, you were driving me crazy with unnecessary details,” he kissed her lips, as deep contentment filled his soul. “We really should have eloped.”

She laughed and jumped out of the bed. Sauntering happily to the bathroom, she retorted, “We should have. Too late now, Handsome.”

He smiled wickedly, stretching his arms above his head, waiting for her reaction to what he left on the sink. He licked his lips. My wedding gift.

Sophia looked at her body in the mirror. Her fingers ran over the small scar on her belly and stopped short when she noticed a small white toiletries bag leaning on the mirror. Propped on it, was an envelope with a message in Alistair’s handwriting.

Sweetheart,

If you feel like trying, I’d love to be your teacher.

Alistair Connor

What the hell? She opened the envelope and took out a sheet of paper. Her mouth fell open as she read the directions on how to use the contents of the bag. She could hear his husky voice whispering them in her ear and anticipation made desire pool between her thighs.

Well, well, well. She looked at her flaming cheeks in the mirror and raised her eyebrows at herself. So, Sophia, what is it going to be?

Alistair suppressed a feral grin when many minutes later Sophia emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a bath robe with wide eyes and a telltale flush in her face.

She bit her lip and lowered her eyelids when she noticed his scorching gaze. A shiver raced through her and molten heat coursed through her veins.

His tsking called her attention. She saw his feet approaching, silent like a panther. She breathed in his masculine scent as her gaze climbed up his strong legs, skimming over his very hard arousal, his sculpted abdomen and chest, seeing the jagged ends of his long black hair touch his broad shoulders, stopping on those dark-pink lips that drove her wild. He was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen and she had an overwhelming hunger to pleasure him.

“Aye or nae?” His voice, deepened by passion and his thick accent, rumbled between them.

Sophia blinked, dazed by undiluted lust, and looked up.

Deliberately, he gripped her chin in his fingers.

“Yes,” she graveled showing her desire.

White hot pleasure made him groan. He stepped closed and bent his head. His hand on her face lowered in a languid caress to encircle her throat as the other untied the bath robe, pushing it away from her shoulders..

“You won’t regret it. I promise you,” he whispered on her lips before taking her mouth in a hungry kiss.

Alistair ran his hand over her shoulder then down her side and under her breast, cupping it in his hand, loving the velvet feel of her skin and how it filled his palm.

There was no part of his body that didn’t scream out for her. He slanted her head to deepen the kiss, enjoying the raspy sound of her breath. His fingers moved in between her thighs and he felt she was as aroused as he was. He wanted to pleasure her, but he also wanted those lips around him.

Cupping his hand around the back of her neck, he slowly, but firmly, eased her down. With his other hand, he circled his fingers around the base of his erection and guided it toward her waiting mouth.

Fuck. He groaned out loud and threw his head back with pleasure as her tongue slid over his length and her mouth engulfed him.

“So. Fucking. Good.” He tangled his hand in her raven hair, holding her in place as his hips jerked forward.

Sophia took him, her tongue swirling around the head and sucked, coaxing him deeper. Her tongue ran over the vein on the underside of his erection and her hand cupped his balls. She raised her eyes and the pleasure she saw on his face made her take him even deeper and faster.

She’s magnificent. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tight, enjoying the slick and hot caresses of her mouth. He wanted to come in her mouth, but he also wanted to taste her. With that in mind, he tugged her hair and ordered, “Up!”

She stood up and leaned on his body, her hands running over his thighs and arms to fist his hair and pull him down for a kiss.

He stroked his hand down her back and over her buttocks, pausing there and kneading them.

“Teach me,” she asked hoarsely handing him the lubricant tube. There was a need firing through her veins that only he could quench.

His eyes fixed on her, he guided her until the back of her knees bumped on the edge of the bed. With his open palm he pushed her down as he kneeled between her thighs. He slid his finger over her wetness and she gasped.

We’re driving each other crazy. He burrowed his finger in her, nibbling her inner thigh.

Oh, yeah! A loud moan left her when another broad finger followed the first and he dipped his head, his open mouth immediately closing over her clitoris.

She tastes fucking good. His tongue was hot and firm teasing her in long swipes as he withdrew his fingers and put her feet on the edge of the bed. His fingers ran down, delving into the cleft of her ass.

She tightened in reflex and then relaxed, “Alistair, please.”

Without taking his mouth from her clitoris, he wetted his finger and eased it in her ass.

“Oh, yes!” She squirmed under his caresses. When she moaned asking for more, he obliged sliding two oiled fingers inside her, in and out, as his tongue licked her clitoris.

He looked up and saw that her fingers were playing with her nipples. That nearly made him come right then and there. Fucking hot.

Her moans and gasps filled the room making heat build up inside him.

“Move back,” he commanded, lowering over her body.

She arched up on him, her eyes glazed with desire, “Take me.”

Her legs wound around his waist and he cupped her buttocks in his hands, spreading her with his thumbs. In one hard thrust, he was inside her.

They cried out in unison.

“I want you.” Her hands clawed at his hair, pulling him down in a desperate attempt to kiss him.

He smiled at her effort and bent down to capture her mouth with his.

“Don’t come,” he whispered against her lips as he slowly drove her to the edge. “Tell me before you reach the edge.”

She bit his lip and heaved, “Now, now!”

“Sure?” On her nod a rush of desire filled his manhood even more. He thrust one more time and paused deep inside her. He cupped her face on his hands while he withdrew slowly.

A shudder ran over her body as she saw the intensity of his feelings, the love and lust mirrored in his eyes. She could feel his desire singeing her as he knelt between her legs and rotated his finger in the air.

Alistair grunted when Sophia turned on her stomach and pushed up her rump in his direction. He smoothed a hand over her buttocks and murmured, “We are doing this nice and slow. I want to hear you.”

Sophia saw as his hand closed around a double vibrator and she closed her eyes, arousal sparkling from the suspense. Its broad crown brushed her opening and slowly slid inside her.

She gasped at the invading feeling and jerked back on his hand, “More.”

“Easy,” he said, pushing it to the hilt and turning it on a slow pulse.

Sophia’s body immediately tensed when the clitoris stimulator massaged her. She moaned, concentrating on keeping the impending climax at bay. “I need you. Now.”

He eased again two oiled fingers into the tight opening of her ass. His fingers left her for a moment and then she felt one of his hands grip her hip hard and the head of his penis pressed against her sphincter.

Oh. Sophia’s eyes flew open. A multitude of sensations washed over her. A touch of fear and a hot wave of excitement. Pleasure rocketed through her abdomen.

“Relax,” he ordered before he pushed forward slowly, ever so slowly, until it breached the initial resistance and stop allowing her to adjust to the sensation.

Sophia gasped, tightened and then relaxed, moaning.

“Are you okay?” He asked with his eyes closed, enjoying the pressure and the velvet, hot feeling around him. As he felt her relaxing, he probed, “More?”

“Yes, slowly. But don’t stop.” Her fingers fisted the sheets as she sought to offset the burning as he pressed deeper. She moaned deep in her throat. “Oh. You’re big.”

“You’re tight.” His fingers dug into her hip as he gained more entrance. He closed his eyes, wrestling with his desire to sink all the way down in a powerful thrust. He wanted her to like this as much as he did. “Fuck, Sophia!”

“Fuck. Me.”

Her hoarse order made him increase the speed of the vibrator, as he slowly sank deeper and deeper, all the way into her.

A strangled cry of delight left her mouth as Alistair began to thrust shallowly and slowly. In and out. She’d never felt such an exquisite fullness and overwhelming pleasure. It was part pain, part delicious ecstasy, and they combined to send her spiraling into the most excruciatingly, wondrous frustration she’d ever endured.

“You. Are. Hot,” he hissed as he ground in and out of her. “Fucking. Hot.”

“That feels fucking good.” She felt utterly and deliciously conquered. She could only clutch the sheets and vocalize the pleasure he was making her feel as he plunged into her in long thrusts of his hips.

Gently and slowly at first.

Powerfully and swiftly toward the end as his body demanded release.

Alistair didn’t want it to end. The sensations were overwhelming pleasurable as with each deep thrust his own erection was massaged by the vibrator inside Sophia.

He grabbed her hair around his fist, jerking her backwards, dominating her completely.

Sophia moaned out loud, “Yes!”

Loud grunts left his mouth as he forced her to take him deeper and faster. “I can’t last much longer. Come for me.”

She needed it. She needed him. “Come with me.”

She felt as he tensed behind her, plunging harder. His hand on her hip released her and he slapped her butt.

“Yeah,” Sophia moaned and he slapped the other.

Her orgasm blossomed and grew bigger than ever, until it consumed her. She shattered in a million crystal pieces, burying her face in the covers to stifle her loud scream.

Alistair shouted her name with another hard plunge, every sensation magnified by the pleasure that he could feel rippling through Sophia’s body.

He gripped her hips tightly, holding her against him as he finished and her entire body jerked and convulsed as she rode the violent and intense climax in tandem with his.

Eyes closed, her breath coming in torturous gasps, she stayed exactly where his hands put her as he withdrew.

“Are you all right?” Alistair asked huskily, after a few minutes.

She nodded, unable to form a coherent response. His heart was beating against her cheek as wildly as hers against his ribs.

“You are the most amazing woman,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head, holding her tightly against him. “No one has ever made me feel like this. Tha mo cridhe buin do Thu.”

“What?” she breathed almost sleeping.

“My heart belongs to you,” he murmured in her hair, completely sated and happy, running a hand over her curvaceous back. “Only to you.”

“Humph,” she huffed, “it better be. I don’t share.”

11.01 a.m.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up,” he whispered in Sophia’s ear.

“I’m not blonde!” She threw a pillow at him and rolled to the other side of the bed. Muscles she didn’t know she had, complained with the movement. She grunted.

“Are you sore?” he asked.

Understatement of the year. She groaned, “You wore me out.”

“And you liked it,” Alistair laughed. He laid across the bed on his stomach and his fingers caressed her back. “Come on, Beauty. Wake up.”

“Yeah, I did like it.” She opened one eye, looked at him and mumbled something in Portuguese that he was not sure he wanted her to translate. “I want more.”

He had already showered and dressed in a white linen shirt, with the sleeves rolled up over his strong forearms, and loose jeans.

She rolled to his side and stretched. “What time is it?”

“Eleven o’clock. Everyone’s already had breakfast and Munro called. He left the airport with your sister and her fiancé a few minutes ago. They will be here at any moment.”

“Oh, my God!” Sophia jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

Felipe and Angelica from Rio de Janeiro and the twins from Florence had arrived on the day before. Alice and Elena had planned a weekend at Galewick Hall to take some of the load off Sophia’s shoulders. The MacCraig, Allenthorp and Espírito Santo families had blended very well.

Even the twins. Alistair chuckled to himself and lay down on his back. He could hear bells toiling in the air. It was funny to see Alexander and Tavish agog with the blonde petite women. The only ones missing were Carolina and her fiancé, who had just arrived from California.

Alistair’s forehead creased. There’s something about that guy that I don’t trust. The way he looks at Sophia. He shook his head annoyed, remembering the way Drake had treated Sophia on the few occasions they were together in Rio. He better keep his hands away from Sophia. He sighed. Davidoff, Ashford, Westwood... The list is growing. Well, this is the price I-

“Ready, Handsome,” Sophia threw herself over his body with a huge smile on her face.

He was startled from his musings. “Jesus Christ, Sophia! Are you planning on killing me before the wedding?”

She smiled mischievously and rubbed herself on his crotch, kissing him passionately, her hands delving in his silky hair to slant his mouth to her exploration.

He grunted in her mouth and his hands went under the skirt of her dress finding the round cheeks of her buttocks. He broke the kiss, frowning. “Are you going commando?”

She threw her head back in a happy laugh and picked up his hand showing him the tiny thong she was wearing.

He moaned, closed his eyes and his hands pressed her onto him. “Definitively, you want to kill me.”

Her eyes were sparkling when she dropped a last kiss on his lips, “Only with sex, milord.”

2.49 p.m.

Sophia sat beside Felipe on one of the library sofas and whispered, “What happened to Carol?”

Felipe harrumphed, “She says it’s love.”

Maybe it was exactly what Carol needed. Sophia was flabbergasted. She almost didn’t recognize the ravishing and fashionable woman who regally stepped out of the Rolls.

In less than four months, Carolina was a new woman. She was thinner than Sophia, and wearing contact lenses under rosé gold Cartier sunglasses, a stylish short dress and high heels that elongated her already long legs, she looked like a model. Especially next to Drake who treated her like a porcelain doll. However, there was something strange Sophia could not name.

Sophia crossed her legs. Immediately, Alistair placed an arm over her shoulders and his free hand came to rest on her thigh. She looked up at him and saw lust in his green depths. He raised an eyebrow and dipped his head to whisper in her ear, “I can’t forget your thong. Want to go upstairs?”

She gave him a mischievous smile and shook her head, “Behave.”

“Sophia, have you been to the ESCALA?” Carol asked Sophia.

Where? “Escala?”

“The Essex Collection of Art from Latin America.” Tavish said as he sat in the armchair next to Alistair. “It’s nearby at Wivenhoe Park on the grounds of the University of Essex. They have a very interesting collection.”

“In fact, Tavish Uilleam, it’s the only public collection in Europe that is dedicated to modern and contemporary art from Latin America,” Drake drawled from his place beside Carolina. “Carol is going to play one of the roles in my next movie and she needs to immerse herself in the field.”

Sophia’s gaze crossed with Felipe’s.

“I didn’t know that Carol had talent for acting,” Felipe raised his brows.

“Carolina,” Drake drawled her name sensuously on his tongue fixing his eyes on Felipe’s, “is a woman of many, many hidden talents. It just took me a minute to see she was not valued as she should be.”

Really? Sophia put her hand over Felipe’s fisted one.

Carol looked at her fiancé with adoration in her eyes. She entwined her fingers in his and told Sophia, “Drake is a dear.”

“How about you, Sophia?” The Californian film director raked his gaze over Sophia. “You could play the supporting character.”

“Thank-” She was interrupted when Alistair’s possessive hand fell from her shoulder to her breast. She swallowed her gasp and eyed him with censure in her eyes.

Alistair was glaring at Drake. “Sophia will only be playing the leading role of my life. No chance I’d share her with anything else. Not even Hollywood.”

Drake’s eagle eyes sparkled and he licked his lips unpleasantly. “Your loss, Sophia. No man is worth such a sacrifice.”

Alistair’s angry grunt sprung Sophia into action. She jumped from the sofa. “Vic, Val! Let’s take a walk around the stables. They are amazing!”

Alice immediately stood up. “Great idea, Sophia.”

“We are heading to the ESCALA,” said Carolina. “Aren’t we, my love?”

In his Californian accent, Drake answered Carol without taking his eyes off Sophia and Alistair. “Yeah, we are.”

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

Monday, August 2nd, 2010.

9.45 a.m.

He was feeling too miserable to dispute anything. Since Sophia had told him about her wedding, a strange feeling of doom had descended upon his soul. But somehow he kept on. His business was booming and Barbara had been doing her best to cheer him up.

The blow of reality had come when he saw Sophia leaving that wretched gallery with a blade sticking out of her soft belly and holding on to Alistair’s hand as if he were her lifeline. His heart broke and he understood in that moment that she was lost to him.

He felt as if his life had ended.

He didn’t have any more hope. She was to be married. Ethan knew his heart could only take so much pain. The only thing he could enjoy from Sophia was her friendship. He’d rather have that than nothing.

“So, sir, how much are you going to give her foundation as a wedding gift?” Scott smiled gently calling Ethan’s attention back to him.

I don’t care. Everything I have is hers. “Call Mrs. Chanda. See what’s the average donation and double it. Think about a few lines for the card. I don’t have the heart to do it.” His eyes roamed around his soulless home. As empty as his life was now. He had everything money could buy, but he didn’t have what he wanted most: Sophia’s love. His eyes stopped on the Francis Bacon. He remembered she said she loved his paintings on the first night they made love and when they went to Tate Modern together. “Scott...”

“Sir?”

“Call White Cube. See if they have someone that could take the Francis Bacon down and wrap it. Send it to her house as my wedding present. Today.”

“Sir...” Scott’s mouth dropped open. He knew Ethan loved the tortured painting more than any other in his apartment. Besides, it was worth a fortune. “The Francis Bacon? But-but-”

Scott was flabbergasted by the whole scene. He had never seen Ethan having breakfast in his pajamas, with his sun-kissed hair tousled from sleep, unshaved, no light in his azure eyes. It pained him to see his boss so down and disheartened. He knew Barbara had been sleeping in the guest room. Alone.

“No buts, Scott,” Ethan sipped his coffee. “She loves Bacon’s painting. I want her to have something that will remind her of me. Something personal.” This way, at least, she’s going to think of me everyday.

“It’s not that simple,” Scott answered. “He doesn’t want to go ahead with the plan anymore.”

“Simple? No. Doable? Yes,” replied Ghost’s computerized voice. “And, what is best: it would not cost much. Can you imagine how he would feel with her beside him? How grateful he is going to be?”

“I don’t know...” Scott ran the back of his hand over his forehead.

Scott would do anything to see the smile back on the face of that proud man that had showed him only kindness. However, to act behind his back and against his wishes could have terrible consequences.

“It’s not magical or anything. No one will ever know how we did it. MacCraig’s sister-in-law is bent on revenge. We can use her and then put all the blame on her.”

Scott scratched his head, not sure of what to answer. “Mr. Ashford loves her. He’ll be furious if she is hurt or humiliated.”

“I can guarantee her honor would not be touched, if this is your fear. In the end, the fault would be MacCraig’s or Miller’s.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Did I ever disappoint you?” Ghost smiled as he heard Scott’s sigh and his negative. “Great. Hear me out.”

Scott sat more comfortably on his chair, praying he was doing the right thing and said, “I’m all ears.”

Chapter 33

Airgead Caisteal.

Friday, August 6th, 2010.

7.02 p.m.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, she will be mine. Mine and no one else’s. No Davidoff, Ashford, Westwood, not even Leibowitz. She will be a MacCraig. He breathed in the fresh air and looked around.

The amorphous chaos by the loch had taken the shape of a tall pavilion that ended in an incredible chapel which looked like it was made of crystal. The Santo family had a creative vein he never could have imagined from Sophia’s line of work. Everything they created was different, classy and dashing. From the stationary to the dresses. He was sure the guests would be surprised tomorrow.

Alistair shook his head amused as he sat in one of the acrylic chairs and watched Jeff Leatham, with a white rose between his teeth, dance and laugh with Valentina and Victoria.

He turned his head as he heard Sophia’s musical laughter. She was still wearing the riding gear she had ordered for the tournament that his father had held at Craigdale Castle in their honor. Her daring redingote was made in the MacCraig’s tartan colors: thin red and yellows lines crossed with the brightest green and midnight blue. She was happily showing the world she was to be his.

Still, he was unsure. Still, he couldn’t believe it.

Tavish and Sophia, arm in arm, walked down the stairs and made their way onto the catwalk covered with Persian rugs over a wide white carpet, which started at the last step and ended at the entrance of the chapel.

Jealousy elbowed its way into Alistair’s heart and he squinted at the handsome couple his brother and his fiancée made. Tavish had been around Sophia more and more since her stabbing. He would fit her better; he doesn’t have my past; he could give her children. Perhaps, it’s another MacCraig she wants. And perhaps... another MacCraig wants her too.

He looked away, reasoning with himself. Stop this, Alistair Connor. You should be grateful that Sophia is adored by your family and that she’s not another Heather.

A soft hand on his shoulder made him raise his head, lines still creasing his forehead. He could see the joy shining inside those hazel eyes he loved so much and he prayed the joy was because of him.

“I was looking for you,” she said, straddling the chair in front of him.

“Here I am,” he smiled at her, scooting to the edge of his chair to kiss her. From the corner of his eyes, he saw that Tavish had walked to where the twins were.

“I have a proposal,” she said after he broke the kiss. “We- I-” Dammit! “I want us to sleep separately tonight.”

What? He looked at her speechless. Why?

“It- It may sound strange but- It’s just that- Oh! Dammit! I want to surprise you tomorrow. I want you-”

“No.”

“No?” she looked at him quizzically. “Why not?”

Because I’m unsure and I want you near me. I need you. “Nobody has ever told you no?” He raised an eyebrow and his poker face mask descended over him.

Oh, yeah. You, included. “But it’s such an innocent request. It won’t hurt-”

He stood up and held out his hand for her, “Come. Let’s take a walk.”

She watched his face as they walked away from the hubbub in silence and entered the maze by the sequoia alley. Sophia could hear the delightful squeals of Gabriela, Ariadne and the other children who had come with their parents to her wedding as they sat on the bench. “Gabriela is loving all this activity.”

“Aye,” he answered curtly.

Sophia looked at him. There it is again. That unnerving unreadable mask. She rolled her eyes heavenward. Sophia, don’t you think it’s time to stop this? She stood up and moved in front of him. That’s enough. She bent down, put her hands on his knees and, looking deep into his green eyes, scolded, “Stop. Stop that right now. We are getting married tomorrow for better and for worse. Wipe that mask off your face and tell me what you are feeling.” She stood up straight and put her hands on her hips, tapping her foot on the ground, “Right now, Alistair Connor.”

He didn’t know if he should laugh or scowl back at her. On impulse, he snaked his arms around her waist and brought her flush against him, burrowing his nose in her breasts. White roses, orange blossoms and vanilla. This is my apple a day.

“Hey,” she whispered, dipping her fingers in his long hair, combing it. “What is it?”

Alistair raised his head to look at her and, for a shimmering moment, Sophia thought she saw fear in those forest green eyes.

She caressed his cheekbones with her thumbs and traced his lips. “Talk to me.”

Do you love me? Will I be able to make you happy? But his fears seemed too ridiculous to be voiced and he just shook his head, incapable of understanding himself.

“I love you, you know? I know I don’t say it much. It’s so overwhelming that I don’t want to trivialize what I’m feeling. Sometimes, silence says more than words.”

But he kept his eyelids lowered, his long black lashes shadowing his cheekbones.

“Alistair Connor. Look at me,” she perched sideways on his thigh when he raised his head again. “You can trust me with your feelings.”

He sighed deeply and his lips curled in a self-deprecating grimace. “Jittery bridal nerves.”

Oh. Cute. She smiled, endeared, “Really?”

“Aye,” he nodded. “Don’t ask me to sleep away from you. Not tonight. I need you.”

She gazed at his eyes, which could communicate so many emotions when he let them, and agreed, “It will be as you wish, Alistair Connor.”

“I love you, Sophia. Forever will be not enough to show you how much I love you,” he whispered before kissing her with fervent passion. He realized that his stomach was tied in knots.

She shifted looking for a more comfortable position and he made her straddle him without breaking the kiss.

“I knew you were her prince charming,” Gabriela’s voice reached them through a thick fog of lust.

They sprang apart.

Alistair’s hands on her waist stopped her from falling on her butt and he guided her onto the bench beside him.

Sophia looked at him, asking for help. However, he seemed on the verge of laughing.

Gabriela threw herself on her mother’s legs. “It’s sooo romantic, Mama.”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Kids are too advanced for their ages nowadays. Alistair thinned his lips to impede his bubbling amazement.

Oh, God! Struggling with her own laughter, Sophia picked Gabriela up in her arms, setting her on her lap. “Do you think so, angel?”

“Oh, yes, I do.” The little girl united her hands and entwined her fingers, her blue eyes looking dreamingly at her mother. “Soooo romantic.” Gabriela beamed at Alistair. “Just like in Beauty and the Beast. I knew you were her Prince Charming!”

Oh, no. Not that Beast again. Alistair crossed his arms over his chest and growled at the child, “I am. Not. The beast.”

“Yes,” she bobbed her head, the blonde pigtails bouncing around her face, “you are.” She start counting on her little fingers. “You are big. You are handsome. You have long hair. You know how to dance. You have a beautiful and old castle.” Gabriela looked at him from under her lashes, twinkles in her eyes, “You shout sometimes, but I’m not afraid of you because I know you are gentle too.”

I don’t shout. “When have you heard me shouting?”

“Oh! When Mama was playing ball with us,” Gabriela affirmed.

Sophia giggled.

“Ah!” was the only thing he could answer. How can this small little girl render me speechless so easily?

“Kiss again?”

“Ah-ah,” Sophia shook her head. “Let’s save the kiss for the wedding tomorrow, shall we?”

“Oh! Yes, the wedding.” Gabriela cocked her head to the side and looked from one to another, biting her lip. She furrowed her delicate blonde eyebrows in thought. Clearly, there was something that she wanted to say.

Alistair searched Sophia’s eyes for a clue but she lifted a shoulder, indicating she didn’t know what it was.

“So, Fairy, are you excited about tomorrow?”

Gabriela held out her chubby arms to him and he picked her up from Sophia’s lap.

“I am,” she said as she made a ponytail with the long ends of his hair. “Does it mean that...” she flicked her eyes in Sophia’s direction, “from tomorrow I can call you Daddy?”

What? Stillness came over Sophia. She could feel Alistair’s intense gaze on her.

Sophia wished to say no.

Sophia wished to say yes.

She looked at the two people she loved most in the world and didn’t know what she wished anymore.

“Mama?” Gabriela was eyeing her with a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

Oh, Gabriel. Help me. She closed her eyes for a moment and she could clearly see Gabriel’s impossibly happy smile the first day Gabriela had said ‘Pa-pa’.

“Gabriela,” Alistair put his warm hand over Sophia’s and squeezed reassuringly, “we can talk about this-”

“No.” Sophia drawing a steadying breath and opened her eyes. “No. Let’s talk about this now.” Be gentle, Sophia. She is a child, not an adult.

Oh, Christ. Please, say yes, Sophia. Without a word, Alistair put his arm over her shoulders and brought her closer to him.

Sophia prayed that the trembling she was feeling inside didn’t show. “My angel.” She is not asking to replace Gabriel. She just wants a living father who she can give her love. Sophia cleared her throat and started again. “My love, your father loved you very much. You were precious to him. His life, his heart. And I’m-” She stopped because the tears were threatening to fall and she didn’t want to cry in front of Gabriela. Sophia, remember: To love is to put your loved one’s happiness above everything else.

Gabriela’s eyes rounded and she nodded. Beneath Alistair’s hair, she crossed her fingers and waited for Sophia to finish answering her question, not knowing if the answer would be yes or no.

I see. Alistair’s heart broke in two. There will never be a child calling me Daddy. “What your mother wants to say, Gabriela, is that Gabriel was your father and-”

Sophia put her finger on Alistair’s lips. Love cannot be imprisoned, Sophia. Almost choking on her restrained tears, she whispered huskily, “Angel, your father and I, we’ll be very happy if you call Alistair Connor, Daddy.” By letting you love him openly, Gabriela, I’m keeping your love for Gabriel alive.

With a piercing happy scream, Gabriela hugged Alistair’s neck and then flung herself onto her mother’s lap, embracing her, “Thanks, Mama. Thanks.”

Gabriela’s joy was so great that she couldn’t contain it. She jumped down from Sophia’s lap and ran away to meet Ariadne, screaming the news out loud.

Alistair’s arm over Sophia’s shoulder tightened and he rested his forehead on hers. “Thank-” His throat locked and he closed his eyes as the inevitable tears flooded them. Oh, Christ!

Sophia felt the tremor that went through Alistair’s big body and she knew that he was as moved as her.

You can’t see how much you deserved to be loved, can you? She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “Alistair Connor, you don’t have to thank me. What I did... It was so simple.”

Simple? He drew a deep breath and cleared his throat, struggling to steady his raging emotions. He raised his head and opened his eyes to look at her, rasping, “Simple?”

Her thumbs dried the tears that rimmed his eyes and wetted his long lashes. She softly smiled at him, whispering, “You know, Alistair Connor... love is not about oneself, but about the other. It’s not about receiving, but about giving. It’s not about keeping, but about freeing. Love is not love if not shared. All I did was say yes to a free given love that could not be kept selfishly imprisoned.”

As he watched her, a strange feeling unfurled. It was a sense of privilege and mute wonder, as though he’d witnessed one of those miracles of nature. Alistair had to close his eyes. It was such a bright light that it could only be felt. When he spoke, reverence could be heard in his voice. “Sometimes, Sophia, when I look at you... When I hear your words... I feel like I’ve discovered a shining sun, so dazzling that it can’t be true, but then I know it’s real because incessantly it warms and lights my soul with gentleness and love and I wonder,” he opened his eyes and framed her face in his long hands, “I wonder what I’ve done to deserve you.”

Simpler answer. You are you. Melting under the most soft and loving kiss Alistair had ever given her, Sophia vowed she would convince him that he was deserving.

As they followed the kids back to the house, Alistair noticed that Alexander and two of his friends had joined the group around Sophia’s twin sisters. “Seems they have gathered a court of fans.”

She turned her head to see the scene. “It’s always like that. They are young, beautiful... carefree... I don’t know... They have something magical.” Something I lost along the way.

When she looked back at his face, he was eyeing her intently.

You have no idea, do you? He shook his head.

He wished she knew her own beauty. Not the outer one. That she could see, even though a little distorted. He wished she could know how beautiful she was inside.

He wanted to scream to the world what a special gift she had given him and Gabriela just a few minutes ago. He promised he would spend the rest of his days - their days - showing her how much he treasured her. He framed her face in his large hands. “No one, Sophia, no one is more magical than you.”

She mimicked his gesture, cupping his face in her hands, and said, “Maybe it’s you who brings out the magic in me.”

He smiled a self-deprecating smile, but before he could say anything, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him firmly on the lips. “Come on. Let’s save your friends from those crazy girls. Dinner will be served earlier today. I don’t want to look sleepy and tired tomorrow.”

“You are always perfect, Beauty. Especially in the mornings.” He put his arm on the shoulders of the most gentle and giving woman he had known in his whole life wondering what would he do without her.

Saturday, August 7th, 2010.

9.15 a.m.

The sun was shyly shining outside and the temperature was just perfect. The balmy weather and the warm breeze guaranteed the most beautiful and agreeable of days.

Sophia finished her breakfast and walked to the bathroom remembering Alistair’s disappointed face when she pushed him out of the bedroom at nine o’clock.

A perfect day for a wedding. She had made it. Every small detail was in place. That devil of a stubborn man, he had proven himself right. Sophia grinned at her naked reflection in the bathroom mirror and stretched, arms over her head, closing her eyes. Today, I’m not going to worry about anything.

“You drive me crazy when you do that,” Alistair murmured in her ear, his hands circling her waist.

She spun in his arms looking at him, surprised. “Alistair Connor. What are you doing here?”

“This is my bathroom and you are my wife-to-be. How can you ask me what I’m doing here?” He wrapped his arms around her tightly, pressing her naked body to his dressed front. “I’m enjoying the view.” He wiggled his brows, looked down at her breasts and back at her face, grinning. “Have you showered already?”

“Ah-ah. We can’t do this today. Or rather, not now. I have a busy schedule. And, Lord You’re-not-supposed-to-be-here, didn’t we agree fifteen minutes ago that you would only see me again when the castle doors opened?”

“Did we? I don’t recall.” He bit her earlobe and softly chewed on it as his hand kneaded her buttocks gently. He turned her to the mirror and rested his chin on the top of her head so he could see her face while his hands traveled down and spanned her flat belly. “You are so beautiful. I love this mischievous smile of yours. And when your eyes turn this yellow diamond color, I know that you and I are in for a hell of a good time.”

“I have to shower and get ready,” she complained in a moan, turning her head to look at him.

He pressed his advantage when she parted her lips and kissed her deeply, saying afterwards, “I’ll wash your hair, then.”

“Right. Wash my hair,” she twirled in his arms and her hands yanked his T-shirt off.

His hands cupped her breasts and his thumbs circled them until they had budded for him. He leaned her against the sink and his head dipped to taste her throat.

Sophia gasped when the cold marble touched her back, but his mouth quickly distracted her as his teeth nibbled one nipple and his fingers played with the other.

He kissed his way back along her throat, nibbling and lapping at her collarbone and neck as he toed off his jeans. “I can’t wait for you to be mine, Sophia. All mine. Really mine.”

There. There it is again. That quiet desperation in his voice that his heavy accent can’t hide. She framed his face and pushed it back to look in his eyes. “Amor, I’m yours already.”

His thin nostrils flared as he began to breathe heavily. “Forget the shower. I need you now.” His hands gripped her by the waist and turned her from him.

She looked at her own image in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her mouth was red and swollen by his kiss, her nipples were wet and erect. Ah! Naughty.

“Like what you see?” he asked as he shoved down his boxers and took himself in his hand, stroking his already full erection.

Oh! Damn the schedule! “I do!” Her hands shimmied over her body, from her thighs to her breasts, which she offered to him. “And you?”

“Love it.” His smile was feral as his large hands covered hers and with his body he pushed her down, ordering, “Down.”

She gripped the edge of the sink and gasped as his arousal pressed on her, testing her wetness.

“Hold on,” he commanded harshly and thrust. His body tensed as he eased inside her just a bit. “Fuck. I love how tight you are.”

“I love how big and hard you are,” she replied.

His grunts and her moans echoed in the bathroom as he pumped from behind until he was inside her completely, conquering her as she sheathed him demanding back all she gave.

“Oh, yeah! Just like that.” One arm wound around her keeping her in place and his free fingers searched for her clitoris, circling and pressing. His grip on her tightened. Heated and breathless, he growled, “Come, Sophia.”

“Alistair Connor! More,” she begged, softening under his rough seizure, feeling his need and his passion. She wanted to make him feel powerful and whole, just like he made her.

He groaned in masculine approval, “You make me so hot.”

The pleasure built in her body as he forcefully plunged in her. His expert fingers teased her to a mindless orgasm and she cried his name as her body shook in spams and she struggled to remain standing.

He held her against his front as he thrust once more, and shouted her name, his climax burning its way through his body.

His breaths came out in loud spurts as he carried a boneless Sophia in his arms to the shower and leaned on its wall, regaining his bearings.

She purred in contentment, “My legs are not obeying me anymore.”

He chuckled and turned on the water. “Mine aren’t that steady either.”

She giggled and stepped into the water, wiggling her fingers at him, “So, Lord Jelly-legs, you promised to wash my hair.”

Chapter 34

11.16 a.m.

“Hmmm. I don’t know. But they form a strange couple, to say the least,” Alistair smelled the vanilla in the air and felt lightheaded. That’s new.

Tavish watched as Carolina descended the castle stairs on Drake’s arm. She was dressed in a fancy gauze layered red dress. Her sleeves feel to the floor, resembling bird wings when she walked. Her soft brown hair was braided and piled in a high dramatic bun, with diamond and ruby pins in it.

“She is ravishing, Alistair Connor. But there’s something that doesn’t quite fit. It’s as if...” He looked at Alistair. “She is not like Sophia.”

No one is. He just snorted not deigning to answer Tavish.

“I mean... It’s as if the clothes weren’t made for her. As if she wasn’t quite comfortable in them.”

“When I met her, four months ago, I would have said she wasn’t comfortable in her own skin. She was... introverted. Not antisocial, just shy. Almost awkward. Pretty, but not remarkable, much less this fashionable model that appeared at Galewick a few days ago. Even Sophia is astonished by the transformation.”

“And her fiancé... Fuck, Alistair Connor, he’s so flamboyant. And he has a strange way of staring at people...” Tavish eyed the man dressed in a perfectly tailored suit without really knowing what bothered him so much.

Alistair looked at Drake, “Aye, he’s weird. Christ, they’re coming our way.”

“Smile, Brother. He’s going to be Sophia’s brother-in-law,” Tavish nudged Alistair.

Drake’s eagle eyes raked over Alistair’s and Tavish’s attires and smirked, “Look, my love. I’ve never seen such manly looks in skirts.”

Alistair reined in his temper. “This is a kilt.”

Alistair and Tavish, as was their father, were dressed in a Bonnie Prince Charlie jacket and a black three buttoned waistcoat, white shirt with a stiff, turn down collar and tie, wearing the MacCraig kilt, with a silver pin, a formal furred sporran with silver chain strap. The only difference between Alistair and the others was that his tie was silver silk and a fly tartan plaid was pinned on his left shoulder with a huge silver and emerald brooch with his father’s ducal crown, setting off his green eyes. An extraordinary jeweled sgian dubh was tucked in the sock of his right leg.

“Oh, yeah. I know. It’s just so...” Drake leered at Tavish and Alistair, “barbarian. Skirts and knifes. Don’t you think, Carolina?”

“Everything is so beautiful, Alistair. The flowers and the garden... Amazing, really.” Carolina looked at Alistair with an apology in her eyes.

He smiled at her, “Sophia is amazing. She-”

“Oh, yeah, she is! She followed my advice, didn’t she?” Drake interrupted.

Alistair raised a black eyebrow, “Your... advice?”

Drake signaled to a waiter to be served with Malossol Sevruga caviar. “Yeah. I told her she had to hire the best wedding organizers. I even emailed her a list of them.”

Carolina looked down at him, surprised. “You did? You didn’t tell me.”

“It was nothing,” Drake waved his hand in the air dismissing her surprise. “I like to please beautiful damsels in distress.”

Alistair’s temper bubbled and spilt. “Sophia’s not-”

“If you would excuse us,” Tavish grabbed Alistair by the arm, “I just saw our father signaling to us. Please, make yourselves at home.”

“Of course,” Drake smirked as if he knew he had irritated Alistair. “Let’s grab some champagne, Carolina.”

Carolina and Drake walked away under the intricately designed pavilion, which guided them to the back lawn of Airgead and to the loch.

“MacCraig,” Ethan stretched his hand to greet Alistair. “Congratulations.”

Christ! What happened to you, Ashford? “Thanks, Ashford. Did you had a good trip?”

Ethan’s navy tailored suit paired with a Gucci navy tie couldn’t hide that he had lost weight and that his eyes were unlit, depressed.

“Yeah, thanks. It was kind of you to have an airstrip and a heliport available for the guests.” Ethan had had a serious talk with his image in the mirror while he shaved and got dressed for Sophia’s wedding this morning. But nothing could scare away the sadness that was etched in his face and voice. “You remember my friend, Paola.”

“Of course,” Alistair nodded at the beautiful woman not really paying attention to her. Sophia was the only woman that occupied his thoughts. “How are you?”

Paola smiled at him and said, “Congratulations on your wedding. Your place is amazing. And the decoration is stunning.”

“Yeah. Really impressive,” Ethan muttered taking in the orchestra playing classical music and the amazing flower arrangements of white roses and orange blossoms in tall cylindrical vases. White rose petals were scattered alongside the aisles and around the vases. I wish I were in your place, MacCraig. “Nervous?”

What do you think? “Not, really.” Aye, it’s an everyday achievement to marry a woman like Sophia.

Cheer up, Ashford. Don’t show your feelings. “You lucky bastard.” He eyed Alistair with a smile on his worn face. “You take care of her.”

“I will, believe me,” Alistair answered, with a smile on his lips. Fuck, Ashford. Why do you insist on hounding Sophia? “By the way, thanks for the painting. Sophia loved it.” You son of a bitch. Now she will remember you every time she looks at that fucking painting. He raised an eyebrow. “It was a wild guess, if I may say.”

Wild guess? You still don’t know your bride’s tastes? “On the contrary. I know that you and Sophia like art. So I thought a painting would be a great gift.” His voice had a tone of longing. She loved it when she saw it the first time we made love. “You decided to marry quite hastily, no?” Is she pregnant?

“Do you think?” Alistair looked again at the Patek Phillip Sky Moon Tourbillion Sophia had given him as a wedding gift. Christ! Eleven thirty. It’s almost time. He raked his hand through his hair nervously and looked at the closed doors of the castle. “Well, thanks again. It was very generous of you.”

So clueless, MacCraig. Ethan gazed seriously at Alistair. “Sophia is the one who is generous and special. She deserves the best life can bring her. Again, I wish you happiness.” Make her unhappy and you’ll rue the day you were born.

Sophia is the key to my happiness. Alistair watched with a frown as Paola and a dispirited Ethan walked to the chapel, sitting on the third pew. A thought struck his heart as an arrow. That’s what losing Sophia does to a man. Ruination.

England, Oxfordshire. Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons.

Saturday, July 15th, 1996.

9.39 p.m.

Le Manoir was set in a fifteenth century old manor house with its own extensive grounds close to the center of Oxford. The gorgeously appointed gardens and meticulously maintained manor house had all of Ethan’s closest friends and teachers gasping from the moment they came into view as they arrived for the party Niarchos was throwing to celebrate Ethan’s graduation with First Class Honors.

The wood paneled private dining room, La Belle Époque, bustled with laughter and crystal clinging.

Niarchos ate the delicate Scottish langoustine tartare and observed with a sharp eye the expertly orchestrated service, refilling wine glasses and serving the entrées. Everything was exactly the way he had requested.

Plots and subplots formed in Niarchos’s mind as the evening passed and he observed Ethan and his guests and reviewed his plans to turn his grandson into one of the most important and influent men in the world.

At twenty-three, Ethan was very different from the thin, wide-eyed, depressed teenager that had arrived in Greece. No one would be able to overlook Ethan now. He had polished himself into a handsome and confident man.

“Grandpa,” Ethan approached Niarchos, who was smoking a cigar in the inner garden.

Niarchos smiled, proud of his grandson, the most special person in his life. “Where is your girlfriend?”

“She has already retired.”

“This place is amazing, isn’t it?” Niarchos dragged on his Cuban cigar.

“Yes, everyone was impressed. With the hotel, the gardens. With the superb food.”

“First impressions count, Ethan. Remember that every day.”

Ethan nodded and shoved his hands in the pockets of his tailored trousers. “I want to thank you, Grandpa.” There was a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. A lingering hurt still made it difficult for him to thank his grandfather. “For my studies and for this party. Thank you. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Ethan. Everything I own is yours.” Niarchos lounged on the bench with an expression of pleased speculation, puffing a cloud of smoke in the warm air. “Have you thought about my offer?”

Ethan rocked back in his heels. “Yes, I did. The thing is, Grandpa, I’d love to study more. Maybe-”

“Well, my son, there are opportunities that can’t be missed. And this is one of them.” Niarchos looked intently at the burning end of his cigar, the orange flaring in the night. “Aside from excelling in the academic world, which you already have by graduating brilliantly, you have to make your way in the business world.”

Ethan had a feeling he wasn’t going to like where this was going, but waited for his grandfather to get to the point.

“Look, Ethan, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re wasting your time here. You’re my heir, to a multimillion fortune, and you’re very obstinate at everything you put your mind to, so I’m sure you’ll succeed in business. Your bank account has been replenished. I’ve bought you a nice penthouse in Park Lane and there’s a brand new Ferrari waiting for you in the garage.”

He’s bribing me. Ethan sat on the bench beside his grandfather. He looked up at the dark sky that mirrored his sinking mood. Is that the only way to get people to do what we want? Can money buy everything?

Niarchos went on, “I’m an old man and I don’t have many years. I-”

“Don’t say that, Grandpa,” Ethan gasped and his heart clenched at the idea of being alone in the world. Niarchos was his only family, his only friend, the only person he could confide in, despite what had happened. He didn’t need reality slapping him in the face.

Niarchos smiled gently. “Ethan, I love you more than anything in the world. Let me use my last years to make a difference in your life. You can’t waste your precious life hiding behind books and your studies.”

Ethan frowned, confused at those words. “By hiding do you mean that I’m not living my life? I love to study. It’s one of the things that give me most pleasure.”

Niarchos shook his head. “This is commendable and beautiful, Ethan. However, to succeed in life you have to be ruthless. Shyness and beguiling ways only incites predators.”

For some reason, that statement rubbed him raw. “Are you saying that by being who I am I provoked what happened in my life?” With Calista? With Eve? I’m no more guilty than you, Grandpa.

Tension rippled between them.

Niarchos glanced at Ethan before putting a soothing hand over his fist. “I could have spoken with more care, but that would not change the heart of the problem, my son.”

So, I have to bend to your will again. Many seconds passed in silence before Ethan unclenched his hands. He drew a long breath, summoning reason back into his mind. Any enjoyment he’d had during dinner had trickled away. “All right, Grandpa. Tell me your plans.” This is the last time, Grandpa. No one is going to order me around again. I’m going to best you so I can do whatever I want.

Niarchos glanced at him, surprised by his lack of enthusiasm. “In life, things are not as we like them to be, but as they should be. With money and power, come enormous responsibilities. Responsibilities with your employees, those who depend on you, with your legacy and finally, the ones you love. We are not free to do what we want anymore. Each step has to be measured and planned. You have to understand this. I can’t let you waste yourself. Rest assured I’m doing this for your own good, Ethan.”

Airgead Airgead Caisteal.

Saturday, August 7th, 2010.

11.50 a.m.

Mull of Kintyre played by bagpipers, drums and the orchestra made Alistair’s heart stop beating for a second and rush into a loud gallop.

He stood there, rooted to the ground, having forgotten what he was supposed to do.

“Brother.” In a second, Tavish was beside him, whispering, “Don’t you dare faint on us. Come on, breathe.”

Fuck, Alistair Connor. Don’t be missish. He inhaled loudly. “I need a whisky.”

Leonard appeared on Alistair’s other side and waved for a waiter, grabbed a glass of whisky and shoved it in his hand. “Come on, Alistair. Drink. Before you pass out like a girl in the middle of your wedding.”

“I hope he does faint. This way I can marry Sophia in his place.” Tavish winked at Leonard.

Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward and drank it all in a gulp, shaking his head as it burned all the way to his stomach.

“You have the rings?” Leonard asked to distract him.

Alistair nodded and patted his sporran as he watched the guests taking their places.

“Do you need to sit?” Tavish’s voice showed his concern.

Aye. “Nae,” Alistair cleared his throat, “no. There is no need. Let’s do this.”

“Yeah, let’s do this.” Leonard snorted, adjusting the sleeves of his gray single-breasted morning coat.

“It’s a great sacrifice to marry Sophia,” Tavish smirked and pushed Alistair toward Alice at the end of the catwalk. “Take your place.”

Alice, in a dark-green tiffany dress by Marquesa, was stunning. Her long red hair was arranged in a simple ponytail under a scandalous Beetlejuice inspired hat with feathers by Philip Treacy. She complemented the ensemble with a marvelous emerald necklace and matching earrings. “Ready, brother?”

“Aye,” he murmured, determined.

“I don’t think so.” She grinned at him, her face full of mischief, signaling for the pipers to stop and for the orchestra to start their song. “It’s not every day we have Andrea Bocelli and Celine Dion singing your favorite romantic song for us.”

Alistair quirked an eyebrow at Alice.

“Can’t Help Falling In Love With You,” she answered his mute question with a smile.

No need to be anxious. This is nothing special. You have been married before. No need to be nervous. Alistair repeated the words in a litany, unexpectedly incapable of controlling his feelings.

Alice put her hand on his offered arm and lightly squeezed as she delicately lead him on a steady and slow walk. “Slowly. This song is only for you,” she whispered.

My Heart Will Go On brought Lachlann and Angelica, Tavish and Carolina, Edward with Victoria, and Leonard with Valentina, who would later leave with Felipe.

Ariadne and Gabriela, wearing lovely pale rose organza full-length dresses with a white silk sash on their waists and a huge bow on their backs, appeared as soon as Tale As Old As Time began.

Christ! Not that Beast again. Alistair breathed in and out discretely, looking for a distraction from his nerves. He smiled down at a beaming Gabriela, who was throwing white petals she took from a white basket, as she made her way to the altar.

The music stopped.

The guests held their breaths with great anticipation while the enormous double doors of the castle opened slowly when the orchestra played the first chords of Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

Alistair’s heart was pounding so fast and hard that it felt like he had a military drum in his chest.

Her head held high, bearing one of his mother’s crowns, Sophia appeared from the dark entrance of the castle on Felipe’s arm.

She wore no veil and carried no bouquet.

For Alistair, in that moment, she was the incarnation of love. My personal ray of sun.

As Alistair’s breath caught in his throat, the breath the guests had been holding transformed into murmurs heard all around the chapel.

He squinted his eyes and peered at the congregation only to see that the male guests’ stares were envious.

Her slender neck and her shoulders were exposed as her long raven hair was braided and tied up high on her head. She was wearing the magnificent necklace and earrings he had given her that matched her engagement ring.

Her gown was diaphanous, made of the finest and most delicate silver threaded Gauzy Chantilly lace on a very pale rose background the same shade of her skin. A sheer bodice of silver Gauzy Chantilly lace with fitted long sleeves had tiny embroidered flowers of the same lace. The skirt was made of asymmetrical layers of pale rose organza, with the same tiny flowers of silver lace scattered over it. It fell to the ground in a soft A shape, and the right amount of flair, floating around as she moved.

Alistair looked at Victoria, in awe of her talent and smiled. She blew him a kiss, her brows wiggling.

He loves you. You love him. Sophia chanted the words in her head, but they didn’t lessen her trembling as she descended the stairs and walked down the aisle.

Never in her life Sophia had felt so nervous. She clutched Felipe’s arm and tried to smile a couple of times, but gave up. All she could do was breathe and count her paces to move steadily forward. Her lips parted in a breathless way more alluring than any smile.

The white flower arrangements and the colorfully dressed guests were no more than blurs as she walked by. All she could feel was Alistair’s warm and possessive gaze calling her to him.

Reaching his side, she took a deep breath taking in his masculine scent. Their eyes met and she saw in his the same nervousness and need.

She felt anticipation streak through her and she remembered him quoting Dante when they first met. It’s the spark before the flame.

“Alistair,” Felipe greeted Alistair and put Sophia’s hand in his, “she is a precious jewel. You take care of her.”

Jesus Christ! How many more are going to tell me this? He noted her ribs expand as she inhaled deeply and raised her eyes to him. His flaming green eyes met her light yellow diamond ones and locked.

Holding both of her freezing hands in his, he whispered, amazed by the song she had chosen and remarking from it. “You need nothing else but me?”

Her lips trembled in a smile and she nodded.

“So let’s forget the world?” he asked.

She shook her head now with a small smile in her lips.

He quirked an eyebrow and grinned teasingly at her. “Are you going to just nod when Father Bruce asks you to repeat your vows?” He nodded his head, “Like this?”

“Those three words will never be enough,” was her hoarse reply.

“Better.” He stepped closer to her, and his fingers curled around her wrists, bringing them to his chest. “Nervous?”

“Are you?” she asked as she nodded confirming what everyone could see.

“All I can promise is not to faint,” he sneered.

“God forbid.” She grinned then.

Valentina, Victoria, Felipe and Edward were chuckling. The priest looked at the rabbi and cleared his throat.

“I brought two handkerchiefs in case you decided to cry.” He laughed when she opened her hand and showed a frilly lacy handkerchief wrung in her fist.

His smoothed a hand over her lace covered back, spreading his fingers on the small of her back, and stopping dangerously near her buttocks. “Are you trying to entice the male guests?”

Lachlann coughed, disguising a laugh. Angelica didn’t even try to conceal hers.

“Only you,” she sighed, stepping closer. Her arm wrapped around his waist. “Was I successful?”

The rabbi cleared his throat louder than the priest.

“I don’t have words to describe how stunning you look.” His hand pressed her closer.

“Aren’t you disappointed I didn’t choose white?” She raised her face to his.

“Sophia. You could never disappoint me. Your real beauty resides inside you. Your soul is so pure that it is white,” he declared to her, his face bending.

She rose on her tiptoes, “And you are the most handsome Scottish groom I’ll ever see.”

“Lad! Lass!” Father Bruce shouted.

They were startled and looked up from each other as discreet laugh could be heard around the chapel.

“Sorry, Father,” they said in unison and gazed at each other again, grinning.

The priest mumbled something under his breath and started the service.

“In the presence of God and these witnesses, I, Alistair Connor Davenport MacCraig, take thee, Sophia, the light of my life, my own sun, to be my wedded wife, from this day forward until my last breath, promising to trust you with all the faith in my spirit, to have you with all the hope in my soul, and to worship you with all the love in my heart.” He grinned at her while he slid the wedding band on her finger, his forest green eyes holding so much love that Sophia could no longer stop the tears.

“Come on, wife. Stop crying,” he ordered, his pristine white handkerchief drying her face.

She smiled at him through her tears, “I never promise to obey.”

“I think I can manage your disobedience, Beauty.” He grinned broadly, overjoyed by her blatant happiness. “Keep crying and you’re going to turn from my Beauty into the Beast.”

Oh! “Stop. I can’t concentrate like this,” she retorted.

“Beast!” he whispered.

Sophia tightened her lips, but a strangled giggle bubbled anyhow. “They’ll think we are crazy.”

Alistair chuckled and murmured on her lips, “I am, you know? Crazy about you.”

“Alistair Connor!” The old priest was clearly horrified. “Not yet, you have to wait for her vows.”

“I’m waiting, but she’s just taking too long.” Alistair turned his head to look at the priest who’d known him since he was a child. “Father Bruce, can we hurry things along?”

The priest threw his hands to the sky, shocked, not believing what he had just heard. “Forgive them, Father, they don’t know what they are doing.”

Sophia blushed as she heard the laughter all around her. She looked briefly at Felipe and Gabriela, who were clearly amused by the whole ceremony. Or the lack of it.

That’s enough Sophia! She took a deep breath and locked her eyes on Alistair’s.

“In the presence of God and before these witnesses, I, Sophia Gonçalves Espírito Santo Leibowitz, give to you, Alistair Connor, my heart, my soul, and all that I am. I promise to be faithful and loyal, to cherish and to love you. I choose you today to be my husband, as I will choose you tomorrow and every new day for the rest of our lives.” Her hands shook as she put his ring on his finger.

“Now, son,” Father Bruce had a smile in his voice, “you may kiss the bride.”

Afternoon sunlight poured through the long windows onto the ballroom. Gowns of every hue vied with bright jewels and equally bright eyes. Surrounded by felicitations and congratulations, Sophia moved through the crowd, smiling. She spied Alistair talking to friends in a corner. She headed toward them.

Alistair saw her long before she reached him. The thrill was still there, the sudden breathlessness, the ache of longing, the need to give and to take. He wondered if the feeling would ever fade.

“I come to steal my husband away, gentlemen.” She turned to Alistair and smiled, “It’s time to cut the cake.”

“Dessert?” Alistair gave her a wicked smile and gallantly raised Sophia’s hand to his lips kissing it before putting it on his arm. “Your merest wish is my command.”

Oh. You naughty man. Sophia flashed him a wanton smile as they walked to the center of the ballroom.

“In fact,” he mused, his voice deepening to a purr and his thumb caressing her wrist, “I’m anticipating fulfilling a good number of your wishes before the night is through.”

She laughed, “Keep speaking like this and I’ll blush.”

“Brides are supposed to blush, didn’t anyone tell you?” Alistair’s words feathered her ear as he steered her among the guests. “Besides, you look delightful when you blush.”

People were already crowding around the wedding cake, which had been brought to the middle of the room, a seven tiered celery green cake decorated with handmade white sugar roses and tiny orange blossoms.

With exaggerated formality, Tavish bowed in front of them and presented Alistair a scabbarded claymore almost the same height as Sophia. “Your weapon, Lord Ells.”

“God spare me,” Sophia exclaimed.

The ballroom erupted with laughter and Sophia’s cheeks flamed bright red.

“Now you’re blushing, wife.” With a devilish smile, Alistair reached for the hilt and with a swift and powerful movement the huge claymore came singing from its sheath.

“Grip the hilt.” He stood behind her, his arms encircling her and transferred the thick ridged rod to her hands and wrapped his over hers.

Sophia suddenly felt faint with desire. Alistair’s deep chuckle in her ear told her he was feeling likewise.

Together they raised the claymore and neatly cut through each of the seven layers. He handed the claymore back to Tavish and opened his mouth to eat the sugar rose petal she held in her fingers.

His eyes devoured her as she also ate a petal and licked her lips. He bent and took her mouth in a passionate kiss while cheers and clapping erupted on all sides.

Sophia shivered and felt an answering ripple pass through him. Their eyes met when he broke the kiss and stepped back, putting distance between their overcharged bodies.

“Later.” His whispered word was a promise.

6.03 p.m.

“Dance with me,” a deep baritone voice hoarsely requested in Sophia’s ear. Ethan stepped around and held his hand out to Sophia. He was at his most charming.

Oh, my. She blinked up at him, “Ethan.”

She looked around searching for Alistair and her heart stopped when she noticed him looking at them through narrowed eyes.

“You know...” Ethan’s azure eyes were full of longing, “I would be honored if you’d dance with me on your wedding day. Please?”

Sophia couldn’t refuse his plea and rose from her chair, placing her hand in his.

He raised it to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles, “You look gorgeous, Sophia. And happy.”

“I am.” They walked hand in hand to the dance floor and he pulled her into his embrace, his arm snaking around her waist. “I missed you at the other parties. Why didn’t you come sooner?”

I’m not entirely sure why I came today. “I couldn’t. But I wouldn’t miss your wedding,” he answered noncommittally. “I’ve set the date of our ball.”

For some reason, she wanted to reach out and bridge the gap between them, to comfort him. “That’s great news. When?”

“November the twenty-seventh. It’s a Saturday,” he said. “I talked with Mrs. Chanda and she told me you’ve already started the refurbishment at both India and China.”

“Yes, the planning is done and we’ll start work no later than next month. You will love the project, Ethan. I told Zahira that I wanted to show it to you personally.”

Ethan danced effortlessly and a comfortable silence spread between them. He looked down, saw the warmth and understanding in her eyes, and wished he could hold her tightly in his arms again and feel her softness against him.

Frowning, Alistair opened his fisted hands and breathed. You’re being unreasonable, Alistair Connor. She is only dancing. Nothing more. You have no justifiable cause to complain.

He wanted Sophia, had wanted her from the first moment he saw her, when she walked into that meeting room. The physical, possessive and protective want, the need for her loyalty, her commitment; it was all still powerful enough to unsettle him, to obsess him, to undermine his usual unassailable control. Fuck!

She did look splendid in the gown, the lace bodice revealing a good deal more of her body than he deemed necessary. Enough to constitute a threat to public order.

Victoria did a fabulous job. It is gorgeous. She is gorgeous. And I am the most infatuated husband in the world. Bemused, he shook his head at himself. All I have to do is control my temper and remember that I mustn’t break any of my friends’ noses for looking where she is so flagrantly inviting them to.

Go there. Take her and take control of your feelings again. Brows quirking, he examined that conclusion and could not fault it. He wasn’t going to get any real peace until he fulfilled this desire. Unbidden, his mind conjured up their first kiss and his hands fisted again. Lips thinning, he crossed the room with sure steps.

Sophia was startled when Alistair’s voice cut in, “My wife.”

Ethan’s hands fell slowly from Sophia’s body and he stepped back. The expression on his face showed his disappointment at Alistair’s arrival.

“Sophia, darling, thanks for the dance.” Ethan kissed her cheek and turned to Alistair, “MacCraig. Yours was the most beautiful wedding I have ever been to.”

Of course. Sophia is the bride. Alistair enlaced Sophia’s waist and pulled her flush to his body. “Thanks, Ashford.”

Ethan nodded and walked away slowly as Alistair spun Sophia in his arm and started dancing with her.

“What are you looking at?”

Alistair’s eyes turned in her direction, her face holding an unasked question. “I’m looking at my beautiful wife,” he murmured for her ears only, running his fingers over her nape, while he told himself he really should behave since they were in public. “My sexy wife, whom I’d like to peel out of her dress and set naked on my lap so I can do debauched things to her sexy body.”

“You shouldn’t be let out to torment women.”

Smiling with slow deliberation that brought lustful heat into those eyes of forest green, he leaned in close, his next words a purr against her ear. “I only plan to torment one woman for the rest of eternity.” He drew in a deep breath, took her scent within, but he wasn’t about to rush. Not today. “Shall I tell you what I intend to do to you as your gift on our wedding night?”

He wrapped her up in tendrils of vanilla and oak. A sensual and decadent promise.

“No.” It was a laughing refusal, her husky voice entangling him in chains he had no intention of ever breaking. “Or I’ll tell you what I’m wearing under this dress.”

He felt like stretching in pleasure as her precious laughter stroked his senses.

Mine. The most beautiful woman in the place, and she was his. “You... You turn me inside out, you know?”

Welcome to your married life, Lord Caveman. She cocked her head at him, playfulness sparkling in her honey eyes.

“I feel... I don’t know...” He lost what he was going to say as he looked at her face. A fleeting thought that he didn’t deserve to be looked at with so much love was immediately swept away by her sweet scent billowing around him, everywhere a soft cloud of lace and femininity.

“Possessive,” she said, delving her hands in his hair. “The word you’re looking for is possessive.” She sounded entirely satisfied and leaned in, her lips softening in subconscious invitation.

Her mouth was a breath away from his.

That was all the encouragement he needed. “Come, my wife, it’s time for you to indulge your husband’s possessive wishes.”

As they walked away, hand in hand, they vowed to be together forever, not knowing that forever always ended.

Epilogue

Scotland, Highlands.

Sunday, August 8th, 2010.

Airgead Caisteal.

9.15 a.m.

Some lessons are best learned with love. He smiled as he changed the saying. Propping himself on one elbow, he admired the sleeping woman in his bed. Mine.

He had known betrayal.

He had known pain.

But from the very first day he had met her, all he had known was love and happiness.

He didn’t resist the temptation and bent to kiss her soft lips. All mine.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, stretching on the bed, her lips curling up.

She had lost so much.

She had been hurt so deeply.

Since he had entered her life, he’d given her all the missing pieces of her broken heart and shown her a new path.

A new path for them to trail together.

She opened her hazel eyes and gazed into his forest green ones. “Good morning, husband of mine.”

All yours. “Good morning, my wife,” he answered and his smile grew impossibly large. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of your new title. My. Wife.”

Nor will I tire of hearing you say it. She happily smiled back at him. “I do hope not.”

“I love you,” he whispered on her lips.

And before he kissed her, she whispered back, “I love you.”

Altreck Caisteal.

9.30 a.m.

In the painting on the ceiling, a chubby cupid shot arrows at an enamored couple, and mocked the handsome man who was lying wide awake since the night before.

What am I supposed to do now?

He looked around at the beautiful master bedroom of his manor. Even though the recent refurbishment had altered it drastically the room was still haunted by the presence of his one and only love.

She was mine. He sat up and rested his back on the wooden headboard, shoving his fingers into his brown sun-kissed hair. The most kind, virtuous and beautiful woman I’ve ever found in my whole life.

He looked at the woman sleeping beside him. Despite their similar appearance, she would never replace his real love.

She was my chance for redemption.

He left the bed and walk into the bathroom.

His rage spiked when he saw a bottle of Sublime Vanille on the bathroom counter.

And I threw my chance away. He grabbed the perfume bottle and hurled it at the wall.

The beautifully crafted crystal bottle smashed into tiny little pieces and the smell that was so like her spread through the room, almost choking him.

The futility of all his acts brought him to his knees as tears watered his azure eyes.

Now, I’m damned to waste away. Alone.

Defeated, he lowered his head on his knees. How am I supposed to go on living without her?

Acknowledgments

The first installment of the TRUST trilogy was my first experience in the writing world.

I had that romantic notion that all I had to do was write a good book and people would buy it. I was an avid reader and I always looked for my books on Amazon and at bookstores. I didn’t know what Goodreads.com was or that ARCs, beta readers or bloggers existed.

So, my thanks this time starts with:

My readers and fans at Goodreads and LibraryThing, who have spread the word about my book and posted their lovely reviews, sharing their thoughts with me, and rooting for TRUST: Alberto Finamore, Gigi Tous, Dolors Casas - Ah, Dolors! Thanks for your friendship; Paddy O’Callaghan, Josie Raphjson and all those who have befriended me along this journey;

To my beta and advanced readers: Amy Haroulakis, Haylee Tippet, Leta Fisher, Marina Moura, Natalie Gerber, Niyati Makinkurve, Sónia Costa, Stacey Price, Tammy Thompson; Ladies, your caring feedback helped a lot;

To ALL the bloggers who shared their love of reading with me, for your TRUST in me, especially to: Braine at Talk Supe; Holly Polk, at Full Moon Bites, Katie at Babbling About Books and More; Mariann Mclaughlin, at Belle’s Book Bag; Marina Moura, at Minha Vida Por Um Livro; Naadir Idrus, at The-Bookaholics, Niyati Mavinkurve, at Books, Food and Me, Pamela, reviewing as Mason Canyon, at Thoughts in Progress; Roxanne Rhoads, at Full Moon Bites; Svetlana Len, at Sveta Random Blog; and so many others these pages are not long enough to list them;

To Linda Sims and Jane Stewart, Amazon Top Reviewers, who were kind enough to share with me their experienced thoughts;

To Margarete Bianchi, for your help with the therapy sessions.

Now. To TRUST’s surrogate mothers:

A most especial THANK YOU to Carla Kasumi Atkins. Thank you for taking such special loving care editing and reviewing my baby. You are the best!

Fernanda Martinez, and all you guys from the oitoeoito team, thanks for doing such an amazing site and fan page;

Renata Fontanive, thanks for creating such a beautiful cover and bookmark and putting up with me as I requested changes and more changes;

Mariana de Oliveira e Castro, for your constant help, thank you.

And last but not least, I cannot forget to thank my family, especially my husband, Raphael - who finally read TRUST - and my lovely daughters, Raphaela and Giovanna, thanks for your infinite patience and all the love you gave me.

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.

And - amazingly - it was the piece that was missing in my life.

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 senior thesis at law school was on this subject, twenty-two years ago.

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.

However, whenever I’ve used real locations, I’ve tried to keep all the details and descriptions as real as possible.

Unfortunately, I have to tell you that it’s true that more than thirteen million abortions are performed in China every year. And that drug trades use baby flesh to make supposed cure-all pills.

You can find more information on the TRUST TRILOGY on my website: cristianeserruya.com.br

I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I loved writing it

Content

Trust: Betrayed
Trust - 2
By
Cristiane Serruya

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

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author