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 this crime is 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 liberabit.”
“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.
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 when she heard the sound of the door opening, not turning to look.
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 arm 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.”
“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 said, waving away his concern.
“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 tenderly caressed her hair. “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 7, 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 once shared with Gabriel, she noticed she was starting 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 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 lay 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 me?’ 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 lay 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 7, 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 marbles 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 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, picki
ng up two small rocks from a small pile.
Sophia looked back over her shoulder at Gabriel’s grave and the two lonely rocks on the white marble.
Widowed are not those alive, but those who are 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 gotten 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.
Chapter 4
Kensington
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 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.”
“You’ll find another woman, quickly.” Tavish chuckled. “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
11:00 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 tonight? Sophia stifled a sigh and picked up her glass, swirling the rest of her wine then 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 out loud. “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. 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, rose, 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.<
br />
Sophia stepped back from the door he held open for her. “Ethan—”
“Please. I’ll behave.” He stretched out 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 up 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 in her hair. “You have nothing to fear from me. I only want what’s best for you.”
Untamed Passion_Shades of Trust Page 3