Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  She put her hand over his mouth, stopping him.

  “Sophia, Sophia,” he murmured into her fingers. “You drive me crazy. Why do you resist me so much?”

  “I’ve already explained, Alistair,” she whispered.

  “You still have doubts? You melt in my arms, Sophia, and,” he picked up her hand and put it over his erection, pressing it down, “I get harder and harder when you’re around. Your scent alone stirs me. Sleep with me tonight.”

  She pulled her hand away as if seared by his arousal. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to work tomorrow morning and…I can’t.”

  He sighed, “I see.” Okay, Sophia, let’s play your game for now. For now.

  London, near Leicester Square

  Thursday, February 25, 2010

  6:19 p.m.

  “Why did it have to rain tonight?” Sophia murmured, looking out the window. “God is very angry with someone.”

  “It seems so.” Alistair glanced at her and chuckled. “You’re going to get those strange black shoes wet.”

  “And you think this is funny?” she huffed. “I looked everywhere for these magnificent Philip Treacy sandals.”

  “I don’t understand women,” he said, shaking his head at her. “And this wispy thing you’re wearing can’t be warm enough.” His warm hand ran over the sheer embroidered sleeve of her black-and-orange gown and frowned, wrapping her with her pale orange shahtoosh. “You’re cold.”

  “More respect, Alistair Connor,” she scowled at him and lifted one of the organza layers of her dress, saying, “First of all, this is not a wispy thing. It’s a Lino Villaventura. No one is more heavenly inspired—” She halted as she glanced at his face.

  He’d thinned his lips, struggling to hold back his laughter, but he let out a chortle anyhow.

  “What?” She looked at him, melting for the umpteenth time that night at the sight of Alistair wearing a perfectly tailored black wool dinner suit and black trousers, slightly tapered. His white, crisp shirt adorned with exquisite emerald cufflinks and a plain black silk tie.

  “Lino who?”

  “Lino Villaventura. He is the best couturier in Brazil. Daring, absolutely inspiring. I’m crazy about him. And his clothes are unique and all handmade. The embroidery alone is so detailed.”

  “Well, it’s certainly stunning. You are going to overshadow all the Hollywood stars.”

  “And, as I was saying, well-bred women are never hot or cold. Our goal is to be beautiful. We don’t feel these mundane—”

  His deep, masculine laughter filled the car. He looked at her, tried to speak but just put a hand on his flat abdomen, and laughed. He shook his head and struggled to compose himself, made a strange, strangled sound and burst into laughter again.

  The more Alistair looked at Sophia’s astonished face, the more he felt like laughing.

  When was the last time I laughed like this? The thought sobered him and he brushed his fingers over his eyes to dry the tears of laughter that had gathered there.

  She watched him, completely enchanted and surprised, and she realized that he looked younger and less stern. Even though she had heard him laugh before, this was completely different. A light and special moment—he had unknowingly unlocked the door to her heart. A door she thought would never open again.

  “Oh, Sophia. You’re too good to be true. Never cold? Never hot?” He exploded into another fit of laughter. “No sweat, either?”

  Her thumb touched the corner of his mouth. “I love your laughter. It makes me want to laugh with you.”

  He smiled at her and turned his head to press a kiss on her palm.

  When Garrick stopped next to the long green carpet leading into the Odeon cinema and a valet opened the door for them, Sophia looked out and smiled back at Alistair, “The rain has stopped.”

  Odeon Cinema

  “Sophia!”

  Sophia looked around for the voice that called her name. Oh no. Not tonight.

  “Ashford. How are you?” Alistair placed his arm around Sophia’s shoulders, trying to keep her out of his reach and held out his hand to shake Ethan’s.

  “Fine, thanks. And you?” Ethan shook the outstretched hand and turned to Sophia, holding both her hands in his, kissing her cheeks. “You look beautiful, Sophia, darling. As always.” Hot, Sophia. You look hot in that barely there dress.

  Sophia gazed into his azure eyes and smiled. “Hello, Ethan. You’re looking good too.” Now go away.

  “You made a donation to Prince Charles’s Foundation?”

  “No,” she said at the same time that Alistair spoke, “I did. Prince Charles is my father’s friend. And of course, my bank contributes to many foundations.”

  “Of course. Don’t we all, MacCraig?” Ethan said with a smile pasted on his face.

  Fuck off. Tonight she’s mine. “Well, we should, but I can only speak for myself. I don’t know, or care, what others do.”

  Ethan turned to Sophia. “I arrived yesterday from India. I opened another branch of Ashford Steel there. That country is really amazing, Sophia. You should go. I was reminded of you all the time. There are spectacular saris.” And the Taj Mahal. The most beautiful testament to love. If I could, I would build one for you.

  “Yes, there are.” She smiled candidly at him. “I have a long love story with India and its saris. And Felipe—my brother, remember?—he brought me a suitcase full of them when he went there last year.”

  “Oh. You’ve been there.”

  “Three times. I love India.”

  Sophia has simply…forgotten me. He lightly squeezed her shoulder calling her attention back to him.

  She smiled brightly at him. “Have you ever been, Alistair?”

  “Nae,” he bit out.

  “Are you going to the after-party at the Sanderson Hotel, Sophia?”

  “Nae, we are not, Ashford,” Alistair growled. “If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to introduce Sophia to some of my friends.”

  “A pity. Well, it’s been a pleasure seeing you again, MacCraig.” Not really, you bastard. Just Sophia. Ethan turned to Sophia and gave her a broad smile. “Sophia, darling, you are the most beautiful woman here. You should have been given the leading role in the film.” You’re my leading lady.

  Sophia laughed. “Ethan, Alice is blonde.”

  “Not Alice, my darling. You should have been the Queen of Hearts.” As you are the queen of my heart.

  “Come. One of my best friends is just over there in the corner.” Alistair turned, leading her away, not giving her a chance to kiss Ethan good-bye, just to wave.

  They did some mingling and chatting until Prince Charles and Camilla arrived.

  Sophia stared at the royal couple, musing, “Charles and Camilla did only one good thing in their whole lives.”

  As she didn’t elaborate, he asked, intrigued, “What was that?”

  She looked deep into his eyes and faked a toast, “Prince Charming is dead. Long live the ogre.”

  He chuckled. “Shrek is popular.”

  “Not dear Shrek.” Her eyes lit, and she whispered, “Have you ever wanted to be a woman’s tampon?”

  He exploded in a full laugh, doubling over. He shook his head at her, his black hair swinging and his eyes sparkling.

  “Nae, never.” He breathed deeply, struggling to regain his composure. He sniggered, “That was gross.”

  Palace Gardens Terrace

  Friday, February 26, 2010

  1:05 a.m.

  The mirror reflected Alistair’s taut body under the shower. His head was thrown back. His eyes were squeezed shut as he fisted his stiff arousal and remembered Sophia’s stunning body in his arms. His left hand moved almost violently, working the rigid flesh. He licked his lips and grunted as his body tensed. He pumped faster and his muscles bulged, his stomach tightened. He gasped as the pleasure built when he imagined Sophia going down on him, sucking, licking his erection, and he tightened his hold on himself and quickened the pace.

  Alistair put hi
s right hand on the wall, steadying himself as an almost painful orgasm exploded through his body. With a loud groan, he came heavily, his semen spilling on the marbled floor, mingling with the water, and going down the drain.

  He stayed there under the hot water for several minutes, his body shaking from the pleasure and intense release.

  Fuck. How will I feel when Sophia and I do it?

  Essex, Saffron Walden

  Galewick Hall

  5:55 p.m.

  Sophia and Gabriela arrived late at Leonard’s country house. When she entered the reception room, she noticed Alistair sitting at the shadowed end of the room.

  Seems he likes dark places no matter where he is.

  Gabriela saw him too and squealed as she jumped from her mother’s arms and ran to him.

  Alistair’s face split into a wonderful grin and he pushed off his seat to pick her up.

  When Leonard greeted Sophia, she scowled and whispered to him, “You set me up!”

  “I did no such thing.” He gave an impish smile. “I know you’ve been seeing him. Are you mad?”

  “No, of course not.” She shook her head lightly. “If you didn’t, who did? It’s obvious this is a plot.”

  “Don’t tell them I told you,” he whispered back. “It was Alistair’s idea with Alice’s help.”

  “Leonard! Sophia! What are the two of you gossiping about like two old maids?” Alice came to greet her, “Hello, Sophia. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, thank you. And how are you, Alice?”

  “Not bad, not bad.” Alice looked down as an excited Gabriela approached.

  “Alice, where is Ariadne? She asked me to bring my DS and some new games.”

  Alice smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm. “I’ll take you to her. She’s outside with Michael.”

  9:08 p.m.

  Alistair sat next to Sophia on the sofa, and spread an arm behind her shoulders, feeling exultant when she relaxed into his embrace. Immediately, his body reacted to the attraction that sparkled between them. He’d spent almost two hours that morning between the treadmill and the pool. But it did nothing to diminish the sexual frustration that tied his body in knots.

  Leonard smiled at him, noting the look on his face and turned to Sophia. “Sophia, you will have to start learning Scottish Gaelic. It will help you understand Alistair.”

  Sophia looked at Alistair, who shrugged. “I can understand Alistair perfectly well.”

  Leonard gave them his angelic smile. “When he gets nervous—or excited—he mixes languages.”

  “Come on, Leonard, don’t tease. She’s going to think I’m a heathen.”

  Sophia laughed. “You don’t think I’ll understand him?”

  “I can guarantee you won’t.” His angelic smile still in place, he turned to Alistair.

  “She thinks that because she knows several languages she’ll understand your heathen dialect.”

  “Several?” Alistair asked. “I’ve noticed that she can read in four languages, but several? How many?”

  Her turn to shrug. “Not many.”

  “She is too modest, Alistair. Holbrook told me, Sophia. Eight, isn’t it?” Leonard counted on his fingers, “Portuguese, Spanish, Italian, English, French, German, and…what’re the other ones?”

  She made a face. “I don’t speak or write Hebrew and Latin. I can barely read them.”

  “Hebrew?” Domitila, Leonard’s sister, asked curious.

  “Gabriel was Jewish, so is Gabriela.”

  “Indeed, Leibowitz,” Alistair murmured. “Are you also Jewish?”

  “I don’t really profess a religion. I was baptized in the Catholic Church, then I converted to Judaism to marry Gabriel. Not that he minded our different religions, but I did it anyway. However…” She bit her lip as she tried to express her thoughts. “I believe in something bigger. There’s no need for labels to do good deeds or accept God. Any name for it will do as long it brings peace.”

  “I see.” He nodded, struggling to figure her out. “Where did you learn so many languages?”

  “I studied in a British school that had Spanish as a second language, besides, of course, Portuguese. At home, we had a French governess. I also studied for a time at a boarding school in Lausanne. They had regular courses in French, German, and Italian.” She smiled, fond of the memories. “And offered them in classic literature, Greek and Roman mythology, piano, Cordon Bleu Cuisine, skiing, riding, and fencing classes. I did it all. They distracted me from…” Her voice waned. Sophia, you’re at a social gathering.

  Alistair enveloped her hand between his. “From?”

  Her eyes reflected her sorrow. “My parents had passed away two months before.”

  “I’m sorry.” His low murmur conveyed his sympathy and he squeezed her hand. “How did they die?”

  “In a car crash the day before Christmas Eve while on the way to our house in Angra dos Reis. All the family was there already, but my parents had stayed in Rio because my father had a meeting with some new clients. A car driven by a rich daddy’s boy hit them. It was dark and pouring; the road was slippery and in bad shape…their car rolled down a cliff.” She looked down at their joined hands and entwined her fingers in his. “It was a very long time ago.”

  Because Alistair knew she was an orphan, he thought he could handle hearing her speak about her loss. He couldn’t. Something inside his chest clenched at the thought of the little Sophia hurting so badly.

  “Jesus!” Domitila was taken aback. “Did you sue him?”

  “To no avail. He was underage.” She gave her a sad smile. “We received money, but money doesn’t lessen a loss like that.”

  Nae, it never does. Alistair gently squeezed her hand.

  “How old were you?” Alice asked, softly.

  “Ten. Carolina was seven; Felipe, sixteen, and the twins just two. Three of my grandparents were alive then. Together they moved in to this penthouse apartment to raise us.” Change subjects. She grinned at Alistair. “Both of my parents were only children. I think that’s why they had so many kids. The twins weren’t expected and Carol was supposed to be their last child. The girls still are very spoiled.”

  “Do you have photos?” asked Leonard.

  “Felipe, is my twin. We were born on the same day of the same month, six years apart.” She took out her phone and scrolled for photos of her family. “Here.”

  On the screen Sophia and Felipe were standing on the bow of his yacht was taken during her last visit to Brazil.

  “He does look very much like you,” he said.

  Leonard came to stand behind them. “Let me see, Alistair.”

  He passed her mobile to his brother-in-law as Alice strolled to her husband’s side.

  “Sophia! He looks like a model. He’s gorgeous. Look at this face, this tanned skin and—wow!” She sighed, dramatically. “This body!”

  Domitila came to look and whistled.

  “Hey! Behave yourselves.” Leonard elbowed Alice and Domitila in the ribs. “I must say! His twin is gorgeous, too.” He wiggled his brows at Sophia, who had turned sideways on the sofa and looked up at them.

  She immediately flushed and snatched her phone from his hand. “Give it back to me.”

  Leonard laughed. “Show me your sisters.”

  Sophia scrolled down and showing another photo, pointed them out. “Carolina, and Victoria, and Valentina, who is the youngest. And Felipe, of course.”

  “You were happier here,” Alistair noticed. He took the phone from her hand and stared at it for a long time, looking at her photo.

  “Gabriel was still alive,” she murmured.

  Gabriel. Always Gabriel. His eyes flickered with some unreadable emotion and he turned them back to the photo, his finger on the edge of the screen. “May I?”

  “Sure. Go on.”

  Domitila tapped Alistair’s shoulder. “Hey, big guy, don’t hog it. We want to see too.”

  “This white lock is so charming,” said Alice from behind, refer
ring to the a white streak that slashed through Felipe’s black hair, not seeing the photo Sophia had just shown Alistair. “Women must throw themselves at his feet.”

  How ironic. “Women have lusted over Felipe since he was young.” Sophia lips curled upwards a little in a cynical grimace. “After he was given this lock, they seemed to desire him even more.”

  “Given?” Alice asked from behind, puzzled.

  Alistair paused and his green eyes swung to her face, fascinated by the sudden change in her mood. Again. So volatile.

  “The lock…started growing sometime after his wife Renata died in a car crash when a truck hit their car. She died instantly. He was in the hospital for eight days in an induced coma because of the swelling in his brain. Fortunately, there was no permanent damage other than a scar on the left side of his forehead and eyebrow. At least,” she breathed, “no physical damage.”

  The room went silent as they waited for her to continue.

  “He was driving.” She shrugged to conceal her shiver. “The accident was not his fault, but he feels guilty. It runs in the family, you know.” God, Sophia. What a thing to say!

  “What runs in your family? Guilt?” Alice asked with pity.

  But to Sophia, Alice sounded frightened. She rose from the sofa, went to the glass doors that opened onto the gardens, and looked outside, not really seeing the beautiful illuminated lawn. You’re an idiot, Sophia. She wriggled her hands, trying to control the tears, but sorrow had already taken hold of her. “We have an obligation to feel guilty…because we kill the ones we…love. Excuse me,” she said in a strangled voice, without looking back, and strolled out, not daring to turn to close the door.

  “Oh,” Alice mumbled. “Shall I go after her?”

  “You didn’t know, Alice.” But I did. Annoyed with himself for having pressed her to unbury such painful memories unnecessarily, Alistair was already standing. He turned Sophia’s iPhone off and put it in his back pocket. “Stay here. I’ll bring her back.”

  Chapter 5

  “Here. Put this on.”

  Sophia swiped her hands over her eyes and found Alistair standing in front of her, his overcoat opened for her.