Entwined Fates

by Cristiane Serruya

  Sophia waited, studying his handsome face.

  “Slow down,” he repeated to himself, as if he were unable to believe he was going to agree with such a thing.

  A quietness surrounded them and the only sounds she could hear were the chirps of the birds perched high on the tree he reclined on.

  His fingers absentmindedly caressed her lips while he looked into the distance, trying to decide what to say. His green gaze locked onto hers and he whispered, “I desire you as I never have anyone else.”

  When she didn’t say anything, an almost pained breath escaped his lips and he softly conceded, “All right, Beauty. This is not normal behavior for me. I don’t usually—I don’t do relationships. Period.”

  So, Edward is right. Sophia felt her heart tightening in her chest. She opened her lips and closed them again, insecure. Ah, damn you. “Well, I don’t do one-night stands,” she finally said. “So, this is the end—”

  “Let me rephrase, then.” Alistair didn’t even flinch and his eyes flamed. “I didn’t do relationships. But if this is what it takes for me to have you, we are in a relationship.” A dark twist quickly curled his mouth and disappeared in a second but Sophia didn’t miss it. “I want you. And what I want, I get.”

  Oh, please! Another Julius Caesar. “We shall see, won’t we?”

  “I didn’t expect you to be such a prude, Sophia. After all, you’re no longer a virgin.” He immediately regretted his words when she winced.

  “It’s not a question of prudishness. It’s simply that I…” It’s simply that I’m falling for you, and fate has taken everything from me once, and I’m too afraid to give in. “Call me old-fashioned if you will, but this is how I am.”

  “I’ll wait for you. I’ll try my hardest, Sophia. Believe me. Just don’t torment me for long.”

  Galewick Hall

  Sunday, February 28, 2010

  11:48 a.m.

  With his perfectly stiff posture, Chambers stood at the edge of the pool. “Lord Ells?”

  Alistair looked up from his place next to Sophia. “Aye?”

  “The Duke of Craigdale is on the line, my lord. His Grace says it’s important.”

  Alistair lifted himself on his arms and vaulted out of the pool. “I’ll take it. Please, transfer the call,” he said, picking up a towel and drying himself quickly before picking up the wireless receiver.

  Sophia eyed Alistair with the phone in his hand, his brow creased.

  “Father? Is something wrong?”

  Alice glanced at Leonard, concerned. “Is it Tavish Uilleam?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s probably just one of the horses,” he said, hauling her into his arms.

  Alistair ended the call and said, “Leo is right. Problems with the foals. I’ll have to go up there again. Probably tomorrow or Tuesday.” He dove gracefully and his big, lean body glided underwater to Sophia’s side.

  The perfect opportunity to broach the subject. “Why did Chambers address you as Lord Ells?”

  “Because he is a pompous—”

  “This might be, Sophia,” Leonard cut in, “because your boyfriend is the Marquis of Ells, heir to the dukedom of Craigdale.”

  “I am not. My father is. Mine is a mere courtesy title,” he spoke dryly, his face turning hard as granite. “Nothing of importance. ‘It’s not titles that honor men…’”

  “‘But men that honor title,’” Sophia finished the quote for him. I like this, Alistair Connor. Point to you. “Why do powerful men love to quote Machiavelli?”

  “Because he wrote to help powerful men govern?” A ghost of a smile appeared on Alistair’s face. “The House of Medici and the city of Florence were great powers in Machiavelli’s time.”

  “Would you prefer to be feared or loved, Lord Ells?”

  He smiled crookedly at her, “You like quotes too, don’t you? So, it’s as Machiavelli said, ‘It is best to be both feared and loved; however, if one cannot be both it is better to be feared than loved’.”

  “I’d rather be loved. Only loved,” she whispered to him.

  On the way back to London

  6:39 p.m.

  “It’s impressive how Ariadne and Gabriela developed such a steady friendship,” Alistair commented, as he sped past Leonard’s Range Rover, where Sophia’s daughter sat, waving and giggling with her new best friend.

  “She is starting to adapt.” Sophia smiled, appreciating Leonard’s and Alice’s efforts to make her and Gabriela feel at home. “Your sister is an angel.”

  “Aye, right. More of a she-devil,” he snorted, teasing. “I was glad that she married young. Now, it’s Leo’s problem to tame her.”

  Sophia laughed and let herself relax on the Z4’s plush leather seat, sighing contently, watching the pouring rain on the windshield. She toed off her shoes and froze as a sharp pain sliced through her head.

  An icy chill ran through her spine and left her cold. Exactly as— The pain lessened, leaving an aching throb in her head. As what?

  Her body stiffened and she fisted her hands so violently that her nails dug into her palms. What is it I’m supposed to remember? She looked at the man beside her, his powerful hands lightly steering the wheel.

  Alistair’s left hand covered hers. “Relax, Beauty. You’re too tense.”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered, studying his sharp profile, illuminated by the lights from the road.

  He squeezed her hand and didn’t utter a word. His warm, large hand soothed her fears as his thumb caressed her inner wrist. “You’re biting your lip and still staring,” he murmured, his gaze leaving the road to glance at her.

  She laughed. “How do you know I’m biting my lip while you drive?”

  He shrugged, still looking at her.

  “Eyes on the road,” she ordered.

  “You like to give orders, don’t you?” He smiled slowly, his rugged features transforming him into something otherworldly. His forest-green eyes blazed with power and heat. “I know, because it’s you, Beauty. From the moment you entered that meeting room, I’ve breathed and felt nothing but you. You have me absurdly tuned to you. You,” he spoke the last word under his breath, almost to himself.

  She chewed her bottom lip, nervously, as she pondered what she should say and decided he didn’t need an answer.

  “So, what are we going to do tonight?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Not tonight. I can’t…” Her voice trembled.

  “Why not?”

  Sophia sank her teeth into her lip harder to control the sudden need to weep and sob. The pain in her head got worse and she put a hand on her temple.

  His hand squeezed hers again and he peered at her pale face. “What is it, Sophia?” he asked tenderly. “Do you feel sick?”

  “No.” She lowered her eyelids, hiding the pain inside her eyes. “I have a headache.”

  He yanked his hand from hers and stopped the car brusquely on the hard shoulder. He turned his body to look at her, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you lying?”

  Alistair’s sensitivity startled Sophia.

  “What are you going to do tonight, Sophia?” he pressed on.

  “Nothing.” She bit her lip again and looked at her hands.

  “So, why can’t we go out?”

  “I don’t feel like going out.”

  “You don’t. Feel like. Going out,” he bit out. “With me?” When she didn’t answer, he cupped her face in his hand. His distrust vanishing at the sight of her forming tears, his thumbs drying them as he examined her features, searching for a clue. “Shh. What’s wrong?”

  Before she lost her courage, she blurted, “Tonight is the second anniversary of Gabriel’s kidnapping.”

  Christ. What does one say to that? He grazed his knuckles on her cheek and pulled her into his arms, caressing her back, soothingly. “I’m sorry.”

  After a few minutes, he started the car again, pulling onto the road, looking straight ahead, his lips thinned in a harsh line.

  Atwood House

&nb
sp; 7:08 p.m.

  Sophia rose from Gabriela’s bed and tenderly tucked the covers around her.

  Oh, my angel, you look so much like your father. She stood there for a moment, watching her daughter’s steady breathing and then looked at Gabriel’s photo on the shelf, an immense sorrow took hold of her soul. Why did they take you away from me, my love?

  Her eyes filled with tears and she let them fall at last. I promise I’ll keep you in my heart, Gabriel. Always.

  She went to her room and called Felipe. Only her brother could understand her.

  Chapter 24

  Leibowitz Oil Building

  Thursday, March 4, 2010

  4:47 p.m.

  Sophia’s cell phone vibrated. She looked at her lap and saw Alistair’s number again. She sighed at his third call of the day and her WhatsApp held nine unanswered messages. Her previous meeting had run into this one, she skipped lunch, and still she had no time to return his calls.

  This meeting was lasting longer than expected. She quickly scrolled through Alistair’s messages.

  12:00 p.m. - Just arrived. Miss you. Call me.

  12:37 p.m. - Sarah tells me you’re busy. Call me ASAP.

  01:39 p.m. - Still busy? I need to talk to you. Up for a quick lunch?

  02:00 p.m. - I’m getting hungry here. What’s the prob?

  My God! The man is freaking out.

  02:02 p.m. - Aren’t you going to have lunch? You don’t need to diet.

  Sophia smiled at that. She lifted her head momentarily as Edward launched into an explanation about the company’s capability, its investment in the Tupi field in Brazil, and the expectations for the field. She flicked her eyes downward again.

  02:37 p.m. - I’ve ordered. I need sustenance.

  02:41 p.m. - You have to eat something. I like my hands full.

  Unbidden, Sophia’s lips twisted, amused.

  03:28 p.m. - I’m really worried.

  04:09 p.m. - I’m coming over if you don’t text or call me back in 30 mins. Last chance.

  Oh, God! How did I miss this? Sophia started to text him back when the intercom buzzed. She frowned, picked up the wireless receiver, and said, “Yes?”

  “Could you please come out of that room now that I’m here?” Alistair’s deep, low voice demanded.

  Here? For real? Is he insane? She nudged Edward on the shin with the tip of her boot. She motioned that she needed a small break, then whispered into the phone, “I’ll be there in a second. Please ask Sarah to show you to my office.”

  “Thank you so much,” Alistair mocked.

  “Gentlemen, excuse for a minute.” Sophia rose from her chair at the head of the table. “Mr. Davidoff will continue the meeting.”

  She almost ran from the meeting room to her office, waving Sarah’s apologies away.

  Alistair stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. He looked out at the view, his hands clasped behind his back, his spine stiff. He spun on his heels when he heard the door opening. His green eyes scorched her through narrowed slits. “What the hell is happening here, Sophia?”

  Work. “Are you crazy?” She melted at his sight. How can I be angry with this god? He wore a black three-piece suit with a pristine white Egyptian cotton shirt and a perfectly knotted silk turquoise tie. “What are you doing here?”

  Alistair shoved his hands into his pockets and took deliberately slow steps in her direction, taking full measure of her. She had plaited her hair in a stylish side French braid, adorned with coral pins, draping it over her right shoulder. As his eyes wandered down, they widened, and he halted. “Your blouse.”

  “What?” She stopped mid-stride and looked down at the front of her black lace blouse. She extended her arms in front of her to see rips or dirt on the sleeves and found nothing. She resumed her steps. “What?”

  “It’s…” He had no words to describe her. Ethereal. Bohemian. Exquisite. Whatever! “It’s not appropriate.”

  She stopped again, frowning, “Not appropriate? Why?”

  “It’s…” He was speechless. He glared at her and squinted. “It…It reveals everything.”

  “You need glasses,” she snorted. “It’s a trompe-l’oeil. It has a peach silk lining. You can’t see anything.”

  “Still…” His forehead creased and his ink-black eyebrows nearly formed a continuous line as his gaze wandered lower while she walked in his direction. Her black knee-high, calfskin pencil skirt accompanied her black-laced leather boots with stiletto heels.

  His lust awoke—Bravo! it shouted, Bravo!—leaving him inarticulate. He advanced on her with one long stride, grabbed her by the neck and the butt, and hauled her onto his body.

  “Never,” he breathed into her mouth, “ever wear these clothes again to work.” And slanting her head, he kissed her open-mouthed, his tongue plunging between her lips.

  Sophia gasped at the unexpected attack and gripped his biceps to balance herself. A rush of desire came over her with this sudden display of jealousy and possessiveness. She stood on her tiptoes and arched on his body, returning his kiss, thrusting her hands in his hair.

  “On second thought,” he lifted his head an inch to stare at her eyes. “You can stay home. Davidoff is very competent.”

  “Stay home? Dream on.” A raspy laugh spilled from her throat. He looked troubled, horny, and totally delectable. “What are you doing here, Alistair?”

  “Why didn’t you call me back? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  Sophia ran her hands over his strong neck and along his broad shoulders. “Around three-thirty.”

  “Almost five.” He scowled at her. “I have been trying to reach you since eleven o’clock this morning.”

  “I was working,” she offered as an apology. “And I have to return to the meeting.”

  “They can wait. I need to talk to you.” His eyes feasted on her as if he couldn’t get enough. “Ten minutes.”

  “Can you wait ten minutes? The meeting is ending. I won’t tarry.” Her fingers combed through his hair, loving the silky feel of it. “If you’re free, we could go to The Athenaeum and have tea, scones with Regents Park honey and Honeycomb Marquis,”—She glanced at her Crazy Hours watch, and licked her lips, suddenly hungry—“Mmm in twenty minutes?”

  He inhaled a deep breath, his features relaxing. “I’ll wait.”

  “Great.” She picked up the phone and directed Sarah to make the booking. “Do you want something? Water, coffee?”

  “Just a book or a newspaper.”

  “There.” She grabbed his hand and towed him to the shelf behind her desk. She smiled and reached up to brush the back of her fingers over his jaw. “It won’t take longer than fifteen minutes. We’ve covered virtually everything.”

  “Don’t linger.” He bent to kiss her lips lightly and tugged her braid, in a playful warning. “Or I’ll have to punish you.” His sensuous devilish smile slowly formed on his face and something dark and perilous glinted in his eyes.

  “Hmm,” it was almost a moan. “I think I’ll be late then.”

  “Aye, by all means, do.” He looked at his pink gold Audemars Piguet watch and raised both devil-black eyebrows at her. “You’re wasting time, Sophia.”

  She whirled, looked over her shoulder at him, a curl on her lips, knowing that her big, clear eyes were betraying her arousal, and exited the room as he hungrily stared at her gentle sway.

  Alistair closed his BMW door and swooped her into his embrace, a cautious but intense look on his face. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I do you. I’ve been dying for you all day.”

  She blinked at the potent desire in his voice. His hands undid the first buttons of her blouse, one by one, the inferno of his green eyes burning her slowly with anticipation.

  His fingers brushed over her neck and glided down to her collarbone. The warm air caressed the upper swell of her breasts encased only in a lacy bra as he brushed the material away and pulled her off the car seat onto his lap. “Just the thought of other men—”

&n
bsp; Other men? She put a finger on his lips. “There are no other men.”

  He twirled his tongue on her finger and sucked it into his mouth and Sophia’s breath hitched at the pure carnal feeling that washed over her body and gathered between her thighs.

  “Only you,” she whispered. What is your problem, Sophia? You need more therapy sessions. You need to tell Dr. Kent about this, too. Another jealous, neurotic, older man! Gabriel, then Ethan, and now Alistair. Sophia lost her line of thought as Alistair kissed her throat and glided his mouth to her breast.

  Alistair desperately needed to touch her. The insecurity that had been eating at him all day waned as jealousy loosened its grip on his soul and he felt Sophia’s body surrender to passion under his mouth.

  He raised his gaze to peer at her. “You’re so beautiful.” His hand palmed her breast and she hissed in a breath full of passion. “I want all of you, Sophia. I want to make love to you.”

  Her eyes closed for a moment before opening again mesmerized by him.

  Garrick’s voice interrupted them, “Mr. MacCraig, we’ll arrive at our destination in a minute.”

  Sophia scrambled back on the seat, away from Alistair, an alarmed look on her face. She fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, struggling to redo them hastily. “Can he hear us?”

  “Nae, of course not, Sophia.” He scowled.

  “Does he know what we’re up to back here?” She blushed, ashamed and angry at him, and at herself.

  “Nae. Absolutely no’.” A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “It’s just a habit of mine. I work in the car all the time and I don’t like being caught unprepared for any arrival.”