“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 t
he 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...”
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