Trust: Betrayed

by Cristiane Serruya

  Sophia gasped when the cold marble touched her back, but his mouth quickly distracted her as his teeth nibbled one nipple and his fingers played with the other.

  He kissed his way back along her throat, nibbling and lapping at her collarbone and neck as he toed off his jeans. “I can’t wait for you to be mine, Sophia. All mine. Really mine.”

  There. There it is again. That quiet desperation in his voice that his heavy accent can’t hide. She framed his face and pushed it back to look in his eyes. “Amor, I’m yours already.”

  His thin nostrils flared as he began to breathe heavily. “Forget the shower. I need you now.” His hands gripped her by the waist and turned her from him.

  She looked at her own image in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her mouth was red and swollen by his kiss, her nipples were wet and erect. Ah! Naughty.

  “Like what you see?” he asked as he shoved down his boxers and took himself in his hand, stroking his already full erection.

  Oh! Damn the schedule! “I do!” Her hands shimmied over her body, from her thighs to her breasts, which she offered to him. “And you?”

  “Love it.” His smile was feral as his large hands covered hers and with his body he pushed her down, ordering, “Down.”

  She gripped the edge of the sink and gasped as his arousal pressed on her, testing her wetness.

  “Hold on,” he commanded harshly and thrust. His body tensed as he eased inside her just a bit. “Fuck. I love how tight you are.”

  “I love how big and hard you are,” she replied.

  His grunts and her moans echoed in the bathroom as he pumped from behind until he was inside her completely, conquering her as she sheathed him demanding back all she gave.

  “Oh, yeah! Just like that.” One arm wound around her keeping her in place and his free fingers searched for her clitoris, circling and pressing. His grip on her tightened. Heated and breathless, he growled, “Come, Sophia.”

  “Alistair Connor! More,” she begged, softening under his rough seizure, feeling his need and his passion. She wanted to make him feel powerful and whole, just like he made her.

  He groaned in masculine approval, “You make me so hot.”

  The pleasure built in her body as he forcefully plunged in her. His expert fingers teased her to a mindless orgasm and she cried his name as her body shook in spams and she struggled to remain standing.

  He held her against his front as he thrust once more, and shouted her name, his climax burning its way through his body.

  His breaths came out in loud spurts as he carried a boneless Sophia in his arms to the shower and leaned on its wall, regaining his bearings.

  She purred in contentment, “My legs are not obeying me anymore.”

  He chuckled and turned on the water. “Mine aren’t that steady either.”

  She giggled and stepped into the water, wiggling her fingers at him, “So, Lord Jelly-legs, you promised to wash my hair.”

  Chapter 34

  11.16 a.m.

  “Hmmm. I don’t know. But they form a strange couple, to say the least,” Alistair smelled the vanilla in the air and felt lightheaded. That’s new.

  Tavish watched as Carolina descended the castle stairs on Drake’s arm. She was dressed in a fancy gauze layered red dress. Her sleeves feel to the floor, resembling bird wings when she walked. Her soft brown hair was braided and piled in a high dramatic bun, with diamond and ruby pins in it.

  “She is ravishing, Alistair Connor. But there’s something that doesn’t quite fit. It’s as if...” He looked at Alistair. “She is not like Sophia.”

  No one is. He just snorted not deigning to answer Tavish.

  “I mean... It’s as if the clothes weren’t made for her. As if she wasn’t quite comfortable in them.”

  “When I met her, four months ago, I would have said she wasn’t comfortable in her own skin. She was... introverted. Not antisocial, just shy. Almost awkward. Pretty, but not remarkable, much less this fashionable model that appeared at Galewick a few days ago. Even Sophia is astonished by the transformation.”

  “And her fiancé... Fuck, Alistair Connor, he’s so flamboyant. And he has a strange way of staring at people...” Tavish eyed the man dressed in a perfectly tailored suit without really knowing what bothered him so much.

  Alistair looked at Drake, “Aye, he’s weird. Christ, they’re coming our way.”

  “Smile, Brother. He’s going to be Sophia’s brother-in-law,” Tavish nudged Alistair.

  Drake’s eagle eyes raked over Alistair’s and Tavish’s attires and smirked, “Look, my love. I’ve never seen such manly looks in skirts.”

  Alistair reined in his temper. “This is a kilt.”

  Alistair and Tavish, as was their father, were dressed in a Bonnie Prince Charlie jacket and a black three buttoned waistcoat, white shirt with a stiff, turn down collar and tie, wearing the MacCraig kilt, with a silver pin, a formal furred sporran with silver chain strap. The only difference between Alistair and the others was that his tie was silver silk and a fly tartan plaid was pinned on his left shoulder with a huge silver and emerald brooch with his father’s ducal crown, setting off his green eyes. An extraordinary jeweled sgian dubh was tucked in the sock of his right leg.

  “Oh, yeah. I know. It’s just so...” Drake leered at Tavish and Alistair, “barbarian. Skirts and knifes. Don’t you think, Carolina?”

  “Everything is so beautiful, Alistair. The flowers and the garden... Amazing, really.” Carolina looked at Alistair with an apology in her eyes.

  He smiled at her, “Sophia is amazing. She-”

  “Oh, yeah, she is! She followed my advice, didn’t she?” Drake interrupted.

  Alistair raised a black eyebrow, “Your... advice?”

  Drake signaled to a waiter to be served with Malossol Sevruga caviar. “Yeah. I told her she had to hire the best wedding organizers. I even emailed her a list of them.”

  Carolina looked down at him, surprised. “You did? You didn’t tell me.”

  “It was nothing,” Drake waved his hand in the air dismissing her surprise. “I like to please beautiful damsels in distress.”

  Alistair’s temper bubbled and spilt. “Sophia’s not-”

  “If you would excuse us,” Tavish grabbed Alistair by the arm, “I just saw our father signaling to us. Please, make yourselves at home.”

  “Of course,” Drake smirked as if he knew he had irritated Alistair. “Let’s grab some champagne, Carolina.”

  Carolina and Drake walked away under the intricately designed pavilion, which guided them to the back lawn of Airgead and to the loch.

  “MacCraig,” Ethan stretched his hand to greet Alistair. “Congratulations.”

  Christ! What happened to you, Ashford? “Thanks, Ashford. Did you had a good trip?”

  Ethan’s navy tailored suit paired with a Gucci navy tie couldn’t hide that he had lost weight and that his eyes were unlit, depressed.

  “Yeah, thanks. It was kind of you to have an airstrip and a heliport available for the guests.” Ethan had had a serious talk with his image in the mirror while he shaved and got dressed for Sophia’s wedding this morning. But nothing could scare away the sadness that was etched in his face and voice. “You remember my friend, Paola.”

  “Of course,” Alistair nodded at the beautiful woman not really paying attention to her. Sophia was the only woman that occupied his thoughts. “How are you?”

  Paola smiled at him and said, “Congratulations on your wedding. Your place is amazing. And the decoration is stunning.”

  “Yeah. Really impressive,” Ethan muttered taking in the orchestra playing classical music and the amazing flower arrangements of white roses and orange blossoms in tall cylindrical vases. White rose petals were scattered alongside the aisles and around the vases. I wish I were in your place, MacCraig. “Nervous?”

  What do you think? “Not, really.” Aye, it’s an everyday achievement to marry a woman like Sophia.

  Cheer up, Ashford. Don�
�t show your feelings. “You lucky bastard.” He eyed Alistair with a smile on his worn face. “You take care of her.”

  “I will, believe me,” Alistair answered, with a smile on his lips. Fuck, Ashford. Why do you insist on hounding Sophia? “By the way, thanks for the painting. Sophia loved it.” You son of a bitch. Now she will remember you every time she looks at that fucking painting. He raised an eyebrow. “It was a wild guess, if I may say.”

  Wild guess? You still don’t know your bride’s tastes? “On the contrary. I know that you and Sophia like art. So I thought a painting would be a great gift.” His voice had a tone of longing. She loved it when she saw it the first time we made love. “You decided to marry quite hastily, no?” Is she pregnant?

  “Do you think?” Alistair looked again at the Patek Phillip Sky Moon Tourbillion Sophia had given him as a wedding gift. Christ! Eleven thirty. It’s almost time. He raked his hand through his hair nervously and looked at the closed doors of the castle. “Well, thanks again. It was very generous of you.”

  So clueless, MacCraig. Ethan gazed seriously at Alistair. “Sophia is the one who is generous and special. She deserves the best life can bring her. Again, I wish you happiness.” Make her unhappy and you’ll rue the day you were born.

  Sophia is the key to my happiness. Alistair watched with a frown as Paola and a dispirited Ethan walked to the chapel, sitting on the third pew. A thought struck his heart as an arrow. That’s what losing Sophia does to a man. Ruination.

  England, Oxfordshire. Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons.

  Saturday, July 15th, 1996.

  9.39 p.m.

  Le Manoir was set in a fifteenth century old manor house with its own extensive grounds close to the center of Oxford. The gorgeously appointed gardens and meticulously maintained manor house had all of Ethan’s closest friends and teachers gasping from the moment they came into view as they arrived for the party Niarchos was throwing to celebrate Ethan’s graduation with First Class Honors.

  The wood paneled private dining room, La Belle Époque, bustled with laughter and crystal clinging.

  Niarchos ate the delicate Scottish langoustine tartare and observed with a sharp eye the expertly orchestrated service, refilling wine glasses and serving the entrées. Everything was exactly the way he had requested.

  Plots and subplots formed in Niarchos’s mind as the evening passed and he observed Ethan and his guests and reviewed his plans to turn his grandson into one of the most important and influent men in the world.

  At twenty-three, Ethan was very different from the thin, wide-eyed, depressed teenager that had arrived in Greece. No one would be able to overlook Ethan now. He had polished himself into a handsome and confident man.

  “Grandpa,” Ethan approached Niarchos, who was smoking a cigar in the inner garden.

  Niarchos smiled, proud of his grandson, the most special person in his life. “Where is your girlfriend?”

  “She has already retired.”

  “This place is amazing, isn’t it?” Niarchos dragged on his Cuban cigar.

  “Yes, everyone was impressed. With the hotel, the gardens. With the superb food.”

  “First impressions count, Ethan. Remember that every day.”

  Ethan nodded and shoved his hands in the pockets of his tailored trousers. “I want to thank you, Grandpa.” There was a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. A lingering hurt still made it difficult for him to thank his grandfather. “For my studies and for this party. Thank you. For everything.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, Ethan. Everything I own is yours.” Niarchos lounged on the bench with an expression of pleased speculation, puffing a cloud of smoke in the warm air. “Have you thought about my offer?”

  Ethan rocked back in his heels. “Yes, I did. The thing is, Grandpa, I’d love to study more. Maybe-”

  “Well, my son, there are opportunities that can’t be missed. And this is one of them.” Niarchos looked intently at the burning end of his cigar, the orange flaring in the night. “Aside from excelling in the academic world, which you already have by graduating brilliantly, you have to make your way in the business world.”

  Ethan had a feeling he wasn’t going to like where this was going, but waited for his grandfather to get to the point.

  “Look, Ethan, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re wasting your time here. You’re my heir, to a multimillion fortune, and you’re very obstinate at everything you put your mind to, so I’m sure you’ll succeed in business. Your bank account has been replenished. I’ve bought you a nice penthouse in Park Lane and there’s a brand new Ferrari waiting for you in the garage.”

  He’s bribing me. Ethan sat on the bench beside his grandfather. He looked up at the dark sky that mirrored his sinking mood. Is that the only way to get people to do what we want? Can money buy everything?

  Niarchos went on, “I’m an old man and I don’t have many years. I-”

  “Don’t say that, Grandpa,” Ethan gasped and his heart clenched at the idea of being alone in the world. Niarchos was his only family, his only friend, the only person he could confide in, despite what had happened. He didn’t need reality slapping him in the face.

  Niarchos smiled gently. “Ethan, I love you more than anything in the world. Let me use my last years to make a difference in your life. You can’t waste your precious life hiding behind books and your studies.”

  Ethan frowned, confused at those words. “By hiding do you mean that I’m not living my life? I love to study. It’s one of the things that give me most pleasure.”

  Niarchos shook his head. “This is commendable and beautiful, Ethan. However, to succeed in life you have to be ruthless. Shyness and beguiling ways only incites predators.”

  For some reason, that statement rubbed him raw. “Are you saying that by being who I am I provoked what happened in my life?” With Calista? With Eve? I’m no more guilty than you, Grandpa.

  Tension rippled between them.

  Niarchos glanced at Ethan before putting a soothing hand over his fist. “I could have spoken with more care, but that would not change the heart of the problem, my son.”

  So, I have to bend to your will again. Many seconds passed in silence before Ethan unclenched his hands. He drew a long breath, summoning reason back into his mind. Any enjoyment he’d had during dinner had trickled away. “All right, Grandpa. Tell me your plans.” This is the last time, Grandpa. No one is going to order me around again. I’m going to best you so I can do whatever I want.

  Niarchos glanced at him, surprised by his lack of enthusiasm. “In life, things are not as we like them to be, but as they should be. With money and power, come enormous responsibilities. Responsibilities with your employees, those who depend on you, with your legacy and finally, the ones you love. We are not free to do what we want anymore. Each step has to be measured and planned. You have to understand this. I can’t let you waste yourself. Rest assured I’m doing this for your own good, Ethan.”

  Airgead Airgead Caisteal.

  Saturday, August 7th, 2010.

  11.50 a.m.

  Mull of Kintyre played by bagpipers, drums and the orchestra made Alistair’s heart stop beating for a second and rush into a loud gallop.

  He stood there, rooted to the ground, having forgotten what he was supposed to do.

  “Brother.” In a second, Tavish was beside him, whispering, “Don’t you dare faint on us. Come on, breathe.”

  Fuck, Alistair Connor. Don’t be missish. He inhaled loudly. “I need a whisky.”

  Leonard appeared on Alistair’s other side and waved for a waiter, grabbed a glass of whisky and shoved it in his hand. “Come on, Alistair. Drink. Before you pass out like a girl in the middle of your wedding.”

  “I hope he does faint. This way I can marry Sophia in his place.” Tavish winked at Leonard.

  Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward and drank it all in a gulp, shaking his head as it burned all the way to his stomach.

  “You have the rings?”
Leonard asked to distract him.

  Alistair nodded and patted his sporran as he watched the guests taking their places.

  “Do you need to sit?” Tavish’s voice showed his concern.

  Aye. “Nae,” Alistair cleared his throat, “no. There is no need. Let’s do this.”

  “Yeah, let’s do this.” Leonard snorted, adjusting the sleeves of his gray single-breasted morning coat.

  “It’s a great sacrifice to marry Sophia,” Tavish smirked and pushed Alistair toward Alice at the end of the catwalk. “Take your place.”

  Alice, in a dark-green tiffany dress by Marquesa, was stunning. Her long red hair was arranged in a simple ponytail under a scandalous Beetlejuice inspired hat with feathers by Philip Treacy. She complemented the ensemble with a marvelous emerald necklace and matching earrings. “Ready, brother?”

  “Aye,” he murmured, determined.

  “I don’t think so.” She grinned at him, her face full of mischief, signaling for the pipers to stop and for the orchestra to start their song. “It’s not every day we have Andrea Bocelli and Celine Dion singing your favorite romantic song for us.”

  Alistair quirked an eyebrow at Alice.

  “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You,” she answered his mute question with a smile.

  No need to be anxious. This is nothing special. You have been married before. No need to be nervous. Alistair repeated the words in a litany, unexpectedly incapable of controlling his feelings.

  Alice put her hand on his offered arm and lightly squeezed as she delicately lead him on a steady and slow walk. “Slowly. This song is only for you,” she whispered.

  My Heart Will Go On brought Lachlann and Angelica, Tavish and Carolina, Edward with Victoria, and Leonard with Valentina, who would later leave with Felipe.

  Ariadne and Gabriela, wearing lovely pale rose organza full-length dresses with a white silk sash on their waists and a huge bow on their backs, appeared as soon as Tale As Old As Time began.

  Christ! Not that Beast again. Alistair breathed in and out discretely, looking for a distraction from his nerves. He smiled down at a beaming Gabriela, who was throwing white petals she took from a white basket, as she made her way to the altar.