Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  Sophia almost thanked him for the change of topic. “I’d love to. What do you drive?”

  “I came in the Range Rover.”

  “My husband used to have one. He loved cars.” She smiled then. “What man doesn’t?”

  “Indeed.” He noticed her empty glass. “Do you want more?”

  “Yes, thanks. With ice, please.”

  He went to the cabinet and refilled their glasses. “And you? Do you like cars?”

  “Do I like cars?” she smiled. “If I could, I would sleep inside a car. I’ve always liked cars. I learned to drive with my brother. He’s the best. I turned into a maniac after my marriage. Believe it or not, I’m one of the best drivers you’ll ever see.”

  “A woman? One of the best drivers I’ll ever see?” He smiled back. “I doubt it.”

  “Try me.”

  “One day you can take me for a ride. I’d like to judge for myself.”

  “Done. Just pick the date.” She grinned widely. “I can’t resist a challenge. I hope you’re not afraid of speed and don’t get carsick.”

  “I’ll make sure my life insurance is up to date.”

  She laughed.

  And he felt content when the haunted look vanished from her face.

  Sunday, February 14, 2010

  5:11 p.m.

  Alistair opened the door for her and offered his hand to help her inside his navy Range Rover.

  Her long fingers wrapped around his hand, distracting him from what he was supposed to do as he experienced the same electric shock he felt every time he touched her. Her touch is trembling, soft, and delicate.

  Sophia cleared her throat, abruptly ending his reverie.

  Alistair smiled wolfishly at her and helped her enter the car.

  “Hey, Fairy. Let me check the car seat.” He opened the back door of the car to recheck the car seat, the seat belt, and the harness until completely confident Gabriela was secure. Alistair got in the car and looked at Sophia. “You should always double-check that her seat and seat belt are secure. Besides that car seat is too small for her.”

  “It’s not too small. That’s her size. It’s made for sports cars,” she said, confused by the haunted look on his face and sudden change in his behavior.

  “I see.” He checked Gabriela on the rear mirror and relaxed. It will be fine. Smiling at her, he asked, “What kind of music would you like?”

  She smiled back. “Anything’s fine. I—”

  “Mama has very nice music on her iPhone.”

  “Angel. Alistair’ll choose the music,” she chastised gently.

  “Oh, no.” He extended a cable to plug in her phone. “Let’s listen to your selection.”

  “No operas, Mamãe. Put on your running playlist.”

  “Don’t you like opera?” Alistair asked, looking quickly at Gabriela before entering a sharp curve.

  “I do,” Gabriela said. “But I’m just not feeling like it.”

  Alistair looked surprised at Sophia when, the first song from the list her daughter had requested, filled the car. “Rihanna?”

  “It’s for running. You don’t like this type of music?” She immediately picked up her phone, scrolling through her playlists. “I have others: Evanescence, Linkin Park, Beethoven, Ollof, Italian operas, French and Italian romantics, or Brazilian soft and pop music. Name it.”

  “Nae, leave the one Gabriela likes. But I wouldn’t have picked you for a fan of this kind of music. You seem…” he eyed her, “far too serious for it.”

  “You say that because you never saw Mama dance and sing. No one does it better than her.”

  “Gabriela exaggerates.”

  “It seems I’ll have to take you out dancing. Again, I have to judge for myself.”

  “Hmm. Gabriela, we have a Saint Thomas in our midst. He has to see it, to believe it.”

  “I can assure you, I’m no saint.” He laughed, and gazed at her, a sensual twist on his mouth. No saint at all.

  London

  7:23 p.m.

  Time seemed to fly by as the conversation flowed easily between the three of them.

  “I’m not living at Eaton Square anymore. I bought a house at Kensington Palace Gardens.” No need to lie anymore. Well, at least not about this. She sighed inward. I’ll have to explain things better to Ethan and apologize.

  Alistair chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked, shooing away her guilty thoughts.

  “I live just a block down the road. At Palace Gardens Terrace.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Where is your house exactly?” he asked, when they passed the iron gates of the private street.

  “You can stop right here.”

  He parked next to the curb and helped her take out their luggage. Two huge men in dark suits approached them from inside the gates. Sophia smiled at the men and made a signal for them to wait.

  “Nice place.” He studied the location and furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember when he had been there, but couldn’t pinpoint it exactly. “Beautiful garden.”

  “Yep.”

  He held her hand, his fingers caressing her palm.

  A shock of desire shot through Sophia’s body. She gazed at his face and there it was: that hungry look. She wetted her lips.

  His eyes followed the movement, a flame burning in the green.

  “Need help with your luggage?”

  There’s no way I’m going to invite him inside. “No, it’s fine,” she said in a raspy voice and cleared her throat. “Thank you very much for the ride. I enjoyed it.”

  “And I loved it! Can we plan another trip together?” Gabriela asked, totally unaware of the adults’ sizzling sexual undertow.

  Alistair had to force himself to move his gaze from Sophia’s mouth to the little girl. He went down fluidly on his haunches to look at Gabriela. “Of course, Fairy. Anytime you want. Just call me.”

  “I don’t have your telephone number,” she pouted. “How can I call you?”

  “This one is going to cause you trouble, Sophia.” He laughed. Fishing a card from his wallet, Alistair asked Sophia, “Do you have a pen?”

  She took one from her bag and held it out to him. After writing down his cell phone and home numbers on the back of the card, he returned the pen to Sophia and handed the card to Gabriela. “Here. Now, you can call me.”

  “Thank you.” She hugged and kissed him.

  “Any time, sweetheart,” he whispered, and his arms went around the small body, holding her close to his heart for a moment. “Call me any time you feel like.”

  “I will.” She nodded and read the card slowly, concentrating. “A-lis-tair Co-nnor Mac-Craig, C-E-O.” She stopped there and asked, “What’s a CEO?”

  “Hey. You already know how to read?” This little girl is a wonder.

  “Yes, I have a teacher, Miss Eileen. She’s very nice,” she answered. “What’s a CEO?”

  “A president,” Sophia simplified.

  The little girl’s eyes widened. “You’re the president of Scotland?”

  Alistair and Sophia laughed.

  “Nae, sweetheart.” He grinned widely and pointed to a logo discretely imprinted on the top left of the card. “I’m the president of The City of London Bank. See the small name and initials here?”

  “President of a bank.” That impressed Gabriela. “You must be very, very important.”

  He laughed again. A beautiful, easy laugh.

  So different than her relationship with Ethan. The ease and friendship now established between Gabriela and this stranger amazed Sophia. Gabriela didn’t like many men. Actually, Sophia’s daughter didn’t like to make new acquaintances. Oh, Sophia, come now. Ethan never liked her and they never even established a relationship.

  “Time to go, Angel. You have to get up early tomorrow.” Sophia faced Alistair. “Thank you again. For everything.”

  He rose from the ground in a single beautiful movement and extended his hand to run his knuckles lightly over her bru
ised face. His long fingers cupped the other side of her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. “You take care.”

  “You too.”

  His fingers tightened gently and he bent his head and kissed her on the lips, startling her.

  She blinked and breathed unevenly when he broke the light kiss. She looked up at him again, confused by his fingers still on her face. An unreadable emotion appeared in her eyes as she freed herself from his grasp, and took her carry-on from his hand. She put Gabriela’s bag on her shoulder and whirled around toward home.

  He stood there looking at the two of them walking hand in hand until they passed the gates, with a final small wave from Sophia and an eager one from Gabriela.

  Kensington

  Galewick Townhouse

  Saturday, February 20, 2010

  2:07 p.m.

  Alistair picked up his iPhone, stared at it for a long time, and shoved it back into his jeans pocket.

  “Are you going to call her or not?” Leonard sounded amused.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Leonard chuckled. “Sophia. Are you going to call her? If I had known she was the lawyer, I would have pulled the strings sooner.”

  “She’s trouble.”

  “Just because she gave you a hard time? She’s not like the others, Alistair. She’s a special woman. I wonder why she fascinates you so much since she’s not your usual type. It’s intriguing, to say the least.”

  “And what, pray tell, is my usual type?” he asked. “Gorgeous? Check. Amazing body? Check. Blonde? Well, I think I can make an exception.”

  “Debauched women,” was the straightforward answer.

  Jesus Christ. Alistair shook his head and thinned his lips.

  “It has been fairly interesting to see you squirming under pressure. The mighty Alistair Connor MacCraig.” Leonard chuckled again. “Not in all the time I’ve known you have I seen you act so strange about a woman. And you’ve had many.”

  “In all honesty, Leo, I’ve been exercising strict control over my desires.” He rose and paced the room.

  “Your ego’s wounded. You’re not seeing things straight. She was with Ethan.” Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Do you want another unfaithful woman?”

  “Fuck, Leo. She kissed me in the car.” He raked a hand through his hair. “That woman has fire burning under that controlled surface. She hasn’t fooled me.”

  “Maybe she has fire. So what?” Leonard tilted his head to the side, thoughtfully. “Who initiated the kiss? Her?”

  Alistair shook his head vehemently, his gorgeous hair swinging softly around his face. “I did. She had a fuck-me-now look on her face. She was begging for it.”

  Leonard laughed. “Sophia doesn’t beg. She goes for it. I have seen her destroy older and more experienced lawyers without mercy, without apologizing. She ran me over when discussing an agreement as if I were one of her babbling students.”

  “She did the same with me while negotiating a loan,” he said with a grin. “Christ, it was a huge turn on. Thing is, Leo, some women that have a strong personality for business need a different kind of release.”

  Leonard’s smile vanished from his face and he frowned. “I don’t like this, Alistair.”

  “Haven’t you had enough, Alistair Connor?” Alice’s voice came from behind him and he pivoted on his heels. His sister was at the doorway, scowling at him.

  Enough of what, Alice? What do you know? Alistair flung himself on the sofa and huffed, crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest.

  “Sophia is not like Heather,” Leonard pointed out.

  “Leave that bitch out of this,” he growled.

  “Would you like it if someone said the same thing about me? ‘She had a fuck-me-now look on her face. She was begging for it,’” she mimicked Alistair’s voice in a derisive way, stepping into the room. “You haven’t asked for my advice, but here it goes anyway. Don’t throw away the second chances God sends you.”

  “Tell me, Alistair,” Leonard’s suddenly eerie voice sent chills down Alistair’s spine, “would you rip the wings off an angel just to prove Lucifer fell?”

  Oh, please. I have no desire to destroy her. Why does everyone think that’s all there is? “Nae,” Alistair said. “This is ridiculous.”

  She is a witch, and I am bewitched.

  And I don’t care if she’s a witch, an angel or a goddess.

  I just fucking want her.

  Kensington Palace Gardens

  Atwood House

  5:01 p.m.

  When Sophia’s iPhone vibrated, she didn’t recognize the number. “Sophia Santo speaking.”

  “Hello, Sophia. Alistair Connor.”

  His deep, raspy voice made Sophia’s heart pound fiercely. There was something special about him, which had drawn her to him from the very first minute they met. She had committed to memory his powerful body and the way he had embraced her that day at the pool. Lean and sinewy muscles of a swimmer. His towering height. The way he carried himself with the assurance of a man entirely at ease with himself. The way he kissed.

  Sophia melted.

  “Alistair, how are you?” she asked in a breathless voice.

  “I’m well. And you? Are you recovered?”

  “Almost. A little yellow around the eye. A reddish scar above my eyebrow. As expected.”

  He could see her shrugging and dismissing the whole incident. “The plastic surgeon left a scar?”

  “He said it’s going to fade completely within five to six months.”

  “I’m sorry, Sophia.”

  “Oh, no big deal. And you? What have you been doing?”

  “Working too much. That’s why I phoned you.” Ach, I’m losing my touch. I have phoned her because I’m working too much? Come on, Alistair Connor, you can do better than that. “I bought tickets for the opera on March fifth, Tamerlano with Placido Domingo. Would you like to go with me?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “And what about today? Are you up for something lighter? Perhaps dinner?”

  “Ah…I…” she paused. Are you daft, Sophia? Don’t you know how to talk anymore? “Yes, I guess.” You guess? YOU GUESS?!

  He chuckled. “Is that an aye or a nae?”

  “Yes, this is a yes,” she whispered.

  Good. “What about Hélène Darroze at The Connaught?”

  “I’ve never been,” she answered softly.

  “So, it’s settled. Eight o’clock okay?”

  “Yes, yes, it is. Okay, I mean.” She heard him chuckle. So, so idiotic, Sophia. “So, I will see you then.”

  “See you later, Sophia.”

  Chapter 2

  7:59 p.m.

  Sophia waited for Alistair at the garden gates. She had covered her bruises with concealing makeup and wore a dark-brown Chanel overcoat which partially covered a knee-length, burnt-red, heavy lace dress with a deep décolletage from Valentino with a brown belt, and chocolate leather platform high-heels.

  Gabriela waited with her, dressed in her overcoat, bunny pajamas and sneakers with her nanny, Maria, who stood ready to return her to bed.

  Although wary of Gabriela getting too attached to him, Sophia didn’t have the heart to deny her daughter’s wish to see him.

  Sophia’s stomach did a somersault when she heard a purring motor outside. That must be him.

  She took a deep breath when Steven and Devon opened the gates for her.

  Stepping outside, a vision of sheer masculinity dressed in a black blazer and a light gray turtleneck sweater with dark gray jeans that enhanced his legs rewarded Sophia.

  Alistair noticed her and flashed a grin of even, white teeth.

  In a flash, Gabriela passed under her mother’s arm and ran to him, with Steven following close behind.

  Alistair picked her up and whirled her in the air to Gabriela’s delighted squeals.

  “She likes him a lot, Mrs. Leibowitz, and I think he does, too,” Maria said in Portuguese.

  “So it seems, Maria.” Soph
ia strolled up to them as Gabriela whispered something in Alistair’s ear and he nodded to the little girl. “How are you, Alistair?”

  “Not bad.” He smiled at her. “Not bad at all. And you?” You look beautiful.

  Better now. “I’m fine, thanks. Gabriela, Angel, go straight to bed, all right?”

  “Ah…Sophia.” He winked at Gabriela and they looked sheepishly at her. “Gabriela just told me you’ve never taken her to the zoo.” As she shook her head, he continued, “Would you like to go tomorrow?”

  “Please, Mamãe, please,” Gabriela begged.

  “You two!” Sophia cocked her head, studying the man and the girl. Don’t get too involved. But Gabriela will love the zoo. “Okay. The zoo. Tomorrow.”

  Gabriela threw her arms around Alistair’s neck, hugging and kissing him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Sophia took her from his arms and kissed her. “Bed. Now, Angel.”

  The little girl ran into the house, giggling and waving.

  Alistair grinned and waved back. He opened the door to his navy sports BMW for her. “She is a dear.”

  “Yes, she is,” she answered, looking back at the gates and waving, observing as Steven locked them behind him.

  “The Z4 is the right size for someone like you.” She smiled at him as he eased his long body behind the steering wheel.

  “Aye. It’s quite difficult for me to fit inside sports cars. It is very rare to find the car I desire.”

  She smiled, eyeing his long legs and broad shoulders. “I can imagine. Do you fit in a McLaren?”

  “The Mercedes?” His eyes sparkled. “I do, but it’s more comfortable for me in the passenger’s seat.”

  “Up for a ride?” She grinned mischievously at him.

  “Good grief! You don’t drive one of those beasts!” He looked at her, startled.

  “Why not? I told you I was a hell of a driver. It’s so powerful. It gives a spectacular sensation of having control and being controlled.”

  Uh? “Come again?” he frowned. How do you manage that? Dominate and submit at the same time? Is this a new sexual game?