Trust: Betrayed

by Cristiane Serruya

  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.

&nb
sp; 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?”

&nbs
p; “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?”