“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.
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