“Alistair Connor. We’re in a restaurant,” she whispered, escaping from the kiss. “What’s your problem in restaurants? Some fetish?”
He chuckled and shook his head, his hair softly swinging around his rugged face. “Nae, you’re my fetish. Sleep with me tonight.”
“I can’t. If you want me to go with you to Craigdale, I’ll have to get up early.”
“Then stay with me in Craigdale.”
“In your room, you mean?”
He nodded.
“The first time I’m going to your father’s home? Of course not. I won’t feel comfortable.”
“Of. Course. Not.” He repeated slowly, rolling the words on his tongue. “Is this some kind of punishment, Sophia?”
“Punishment?”
“Do you want to punish me for something I did that you didn’t like? Is that it?” Dominant or submissive, Beauty? What do you plead? “Do you want to see me on my knees? Begging? Because I’m almost there. I can switch once in a while with you, if you want me to.”
“Switch?” She frowned, “Switch what? Alistair, I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Sophia narrowed her eyes a bit and creased her forehead. What the hell? “The best way to get the right answer to something is to be direct and honest. What do you want to know?”
Let’s see what you are. “Dominant or submissive, Sophia?” he blurted, teetering in the suspense.
She opened her lips to answer dominant, but thought better. “Uh? What?”
Oops! “Never mind.” He flicked his wrist, dismissively. But his eyes betrayed his disappointment. “I have my answer.” He raked his free hand in his long hair. Christ. She doesn’t know what she’s got herself into. And another thought struck him harder. I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into.
Sophia laced her fingers with his. “What’s going on, Alistair? You’ve been strange ever since this afternoon.”
“I’m going crazy with this ‘slowdown’ of yours, Sophia.” He inhaled deeply. “I have a high sex drive and I don’t like to jack off alone, which, incidentally, I have been doing almost every night since I started going out with you.”
Sophia gasped, shocked. Disentangling her fingers from his, she hissed, “There is no need to be so crude.”
“Crude? Nae, it’s the truth.” His mood darkened. He spread an arm over the back of the sofa and his hand encompassed her nape firmly in his grip. “Would ye rather I lied to you and went out with an escort?”
An escort? She was speechless for a second. “Alistair Connor, this is getting worse by the second.”
“Or would you rather I turned to an ex to do it?” His hand tightened on her neck, almost painfully.
“Are you…threatening…coercing me into having sex with you?” she said between clenched teeth, her dark lashes fusing for a split second.
“Nae.” He bent his head toward her mouth. “I’m just warning you.”
How on Earth did we get into this conversation? Her hand shot up to stop his advance, palming the center of his chest. “Very well, Alistair Connor Davenport MacCraig, let me warn you, then. I don’t take threats well. Nor do I like being cornered.” She sustained his searing gaze. “I only do what I want, whenever I want, and with whomever I want. You are free to find an escort or an ex.” Two can play this game, Mr. High-sex-drive. “But let me give you another warning. If you do let it happen, it’s the end for us. It will end before it begins.”
His eyebrows rose with disbelief when she pressed her hand onto his chest and let go in an aggressive movement. What now, Alistair Connor? His ray of sun shined so brightly in his private sky that it scared away his dark, thunderous clouds. Fuck, she is turning me inside out. And upside down. He inhaled deeply and nodded at her, “Warnings noted, ma’am. I’ll behave.”
“Good.”
Jesus Christ. When did you turn into this weakling, Alistair Connor? Are you obeying orders now? His hand squeezed her nape lightly, and he breathed commanding words on her lips, “We’re going to happen, Beauty. We. Will.”
“We shall see,” she whispered, and raised her elegant brows, throwing down the gauntlet.
“I do love challenges, Sophia.” He dipped his mouth and kissed her lightly before signaling for the waiter that they were ready to go upstairs. And I always win.
Retrieving her watch to put back on her wrist, his eyes stopped on the inscription on the leather band. “This was a gift to Gabriel.”
She sat utterly still, keenly observing his reactions. “Yes.”
“I like the words,” he said softly to her, admiration shining in his eyes. “Simple and beautiful, Sophia.”
“You speak Portuguese, too?” she asked, thankful for his normal behavior.
“Nae. But I am fluent in Italian and French. The words are practically the same.” He shrugged and fastened the watch on her wrist, his fingers caressing her hand. “Universal.”
“Yes,” she entwined her fingers with his, “they are.”
And no one has ever said them sincerely to me. “Let’s go up to The Rooftop. We can have our coffee there. I want to see you smoking a cigar,” he said, sensuously whispering the last words in her ear, enjoying her shiver.
The waiter pulled out the table for her and she got up and bowed mockingly at him, saying, “As you wish, my lord.”
Then she stepped away, leaving him to follow her through the restaurant as all gazes turned to watch her elegantly stroll.
He shook his head and scowled at her back. Alistair Connor, you are so in for it.
Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse
Friday, March 5, 2010
9:00 a.m.
Ethan sat in the living room armchair as another gorgeous woman entered. He tilted his head to the side and ordered, boredom showing in his voice, “Disrobe.”
Unashamedly, the dark-haired woman took off her clothes and ambled through the room. She stopped in front of him and pivoted.
He looked her over and shook his head, “No, thanks. You can pick up your payment on the way out.”
Without a word, the woman dressed and left the room.
Ethan glowered at his personal assistant as the thin man entered the room, with a bright smile on his face, clutching a black leather case in front of his chest. “Goddammit, Scott. It’s been weeks and not one even comes close.”
Scott stopped and his smile broadened even more. “Sir, I found her.” He opened the door and a young woman walked in.
Ethan sucked in his breath and rose from the armchair. Jesus! People might mistake them for twins.
He motioned for the woman to stop in the middle of his living room as he strolled to her and then around her. He gripped her chin in his hand and raised her face to look into her eyes. He frowned. Yellow contact lenses. “Disrobe and undo your hair.”
She undid her bun and her long black tresses fell over her shoulders to the small of her back. Her hands lifted to unfasten the belt of her dress. But before she did, she looked at Ethan with eyes hooded by long lashes and, in a movement of uncertainty, bit her full bottom lip.
Ethan felt his body stir. “Stop!” he ordered, before she started to undress. He invaded her personal space and shoved his fingers in her hair. “Your hair. Is it natural?”
“No, sir. My natural color is light brown. But I dyed it bla-black,” the woman stammered.
He grimaced and ran his fingers over her smooth face. Hmm. No makeup. “Any children?”
“No, sir,” Scott informed from behind him. “And sir, if I may?”
“Shoot.”
Scott neared the couple and spoke in a low voice to the woman, “Show him the scar.”
Ethan stepped away, giving the woman some room. Her belt clunked on the marble floor and her dress opened in a graceful movement. The woman shrugged and her dress landed on the belt.
Ethan couldn’t believe his eyes. On her right arm, the woman had a scar similar to Sophia’s. He surveyed her body. “Turn around. Slowly.”
When she completed a full turn,
Ethan approached again and looked deep into her eyes. “You know the terms of the contract?”
“Yes,” the woman whispered.
Ethan looked at his assistant. “I trust you have her examined and her background checked, and rechecked.”
“Of course, sir,” said Scott, patting his black portfolio. “It’s all in here.”
“She will do,” Ethan told Scott. And then he said to the woman, “You’ll need for nothing, if you please me. Scott will show you the guest room. Take a shower, pick out one of the outfits in the closet, and go up. I’ll wait for you in my room.”
“Anything else, sir?” asked Scott.
“No, thank you. By the way, good job.” He walked to the stairs. Before he started climbing the steps, he turned and said, “One thing more.”
Two pair of eyes looked at him, expectantly.
“Your name from now on is Sophia.”
Leibowitz Oil Building
1:07 p.m.
Sophia glanced at her vibrating iPhone. Already? She answered it quickly, “Alistair?”
“Sophia, we’re a little early. Traffic was good and,” she could almost hear him smiling, “an enchanting little girl asked me to pick her up at twelve-thirty, sharp. We’re almost there but we can go upstairs to wait, if you want.”
“No need. I’ll be downstairs in a second.” Sophia turned off her iMac, put on her jacket, and grabbed her overcoat.
He was already waiting for her, leaning on the slick BMW. He greeted her with a light kiss on the lips, and then asked concerned, “Bad day?”
“You can’t imagine. I had a long meeting in the morning and one of Leibowitz’s platforms in Rio had a malfunction. Edward and I had an extensive conference call with the Brazilian CEO and directors. We just finished. I didn’t eat. My day wasn’t just bad, it was a disaster.”
“Well,” he smiled at her, “at least you’re going to have a calm weekend. Gabriela wants to play with Ariadne every second of it. And the little imp said she repacked your bags with Maria and put clothes she thought I’d like more.” He laughed heartily and opened the door for her. “I’m glad she’s on my side.”
“Oi, Mamãe.” Chubby arms hugged her neck, and kisses were scattered on her cheek as soon as Sophia sat beside her daughter in the car.
“Oi, meu amor! Ready for the weekend?”
Gabriela bounced in her car seat. “Ready.”
As Alistair entered the car through the other door, she glanced in his direction over Gabriela’s head, smiling. “So much energy for such a little girl.”
He smiled back. “She’s a dear.”
“I am,” Gabriela concurred.
Alistair touched the intercom, “Heathrow by Invitation, please, Garrick.”
“Heathrow by invitation?” she parroted.
“I use it when The City Airport is full. They take care of check-in and baggage while we wait in the private lounge. Then they drop us off at the plane.” He smiled at Gabriela, playing with the child’s pale blonde hair. “You should have your own airplane. Time is money.”
“I don’t really travel that much.” Sophia put her head against the headrest and closed her eyes, groaning. She was really tired and beginning to get a headache.
“You okay?” Alistair murmured, worried, his fingers skimming over her forehead. “Sophia?”
“Just a bad headache.” You gave me too much to think about yesterday, Lord I-give-the-orders. She took her sunglasses from her bag and put them on.
The driver dropped them off on the tarmac by a silver and dark green G650.
At the bottom of the stairs the captain greeted them, “Good afternoon.”
“Muir,” Alistair nodded at them, and Gabriela and Sophia said their greetings.
“What?” he asked her when he noticed she was looking at the brand new G650.
This is getting monotonous. “Do all British men have G650s?” she teased over her shoulder, helping Gabriela climb up the stairs.
“All?” His smile vanished from his face. “How many British men do you know that have a G650?”
There he is. Lord Jealousy. I’ll have to keep track of his many nicknames. “You and Ethan.”
His brows rose. “Mine is newer.” Ach! I’m such a child. He bent down to enter the plane, too tall for the size of the aircraft. “Good afternoon, MacDouglas.”
“Mr. MacCraig, Ms. Leibowitz, and young lady, good afternoon.” He took their coats and turned to hang them in the small closet.
“Are all your employees Scottish?” Sophia whispered to Alistair, counting on her fingers, “MacKeenan, Garrick, Munro, Muir, and MacDouglas.”
He frowned, then his lips curled upward in a ghost of a smile. “Not all, but the majority are. I have a contract with the University of Edinburgh to place trainees and newly graduated students.”
The floor plan and decor of Alistair’s airplane differed completely from Ethan’s. With ivory leather, dark green carpet, and dark green-and-ivory plush cushions, Alistair’s was homier and more spacious with fewer seats.
She looked around. “Only six seats and a sofa?”
“Nae,” he flashed a crooked smile and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward a door. He opened it to show a beautifully done stateroom with an amazingly big bed and another sofa.
“Wow! This is nice.” Gabriela ran her little hand over the mattress.
“It is, isn’t it?” Alistair picked her up in his arms and flung her on the soft bed, where she fell, giggling.
He turned to Sophia, his hand caressing her jaw line. “Why don’t you sleep until we reach Plockton Airstrip? The flight is an hour and fifteen minutes. Enough time for you to rest. Gabriela and I will keep quiet. Won’t we, Fairy? We can watch, umm…”
“Beauty and the Beast,” Gabriela said without delay, and hopped on the floor.
“Beauty and the Beast, it is then.” He smiled at the little girl, scooping her back up into his arms.
“Alistair Connor,” Sophia breathed and gaped at him. “You are a saint, even if you don’t think so,” she mumbled the end of the sentence, massaging her right temple.
No saint here, Sophia. He shook his head, smiling. “How about a sandwich and a Tylenol?”
“Lovely.”
“Come.” He grabbed her hand leading her to the bar on the other side of the aircraft. “MacDouglas, please set up the bed for Ms. Leibowitz.”
Sophia woke up to Alistair nuzzling her neck. “Come on, Beauty. Wake up. We’re landing in ten minutes.”
“Mmm.” She stretched on the bed and smiled at him. “It was a great suggestion. Thanks. I’m feeling much better.”
He smiled with mischief at her. “One day, I’ll have you here.”
“Here?” she squeaked.
His smile turned devilish as he nodded. “Yes, here. Shocked?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, stretching again. “Quite. But isn’t it a wonderful idea, Alistair Connor?” She liked the way his full name tasted on her tongue.
“Prepare to be fully shocked, Sophia.” He laughed, his eyes twinkling. “You can fulfill all your fantasies with me. I love role-play.”
“Hmm,” she purred and jumped from the bed. “I’ll give it great thought.”
He swatted her butt, chuckling. “Aye, please do.”
Chapter 9
Scotland, Highlands, Plockton Airstrip
3:44 p.m.
Sophia breathed in deep as she stepped out of the plane and grabbed Alistair’s hand.
“Nervous?” he asked, and she nodded. “Don’t be. My father will love you.”
Sophia spotted Lachlann Aindreas MacCraig right away. Although he didn’t look much like Alistair, his towering height and width gave him away. With graying auburn hair, the same green eyes, lean, almost as tall and broad as Alistair, he remained a handsome man.
“Good to see you, Son,” Lachlann said, an easy smile opening on his face.
“Father.” Alistair smiled back, and motioned with his hand to Gabriela who dozed peacefully
on his broad shoulder as if he provided the perfect place to sleep. “This sleeping beauty is Gabriela, and this is Sophia.”
Lachlann pulled Sophia into his embrace and kissed both of her cheeks. “Failte. Wel—”
“Tapadh leibh,” she answered, smiling, and thanked his welcome greeting in Gaelic before he could translate.
Alistair chuckled and Lachlann’s eyes widened for a second.
“You speak Gaelic?”
“No. I learned just a few words,” she beamed at him, happy that she had the correct intonation.
“Come on, let’s go. We still have a forty-minute drive from here and I’ve booked a special treatment for Sophia at the spa.”
Ardaneaskan, Loch Carron
Craigdale Castle
4:39 p.m.
Sophia sucked in a breath when they neared Craigdale Castle. She could only describe it as one of the loveliest and most romantic spots that she had ever seen. Surrounded by tall and broad walls, with its very own loch, it offered one of the most stunning Scottish panoramas.
“Mamãe! It’s huge!” Gabriela, who had been awake and chattering with them for a while, was ecstatic as the many possibilities offered by the property which had been transformed in a resort. “It’s beautiful!”
“It’s enchanting.”
“I like that,” Lachlann said. “Enchanting. Aye, Craigdale is enchanting.”
“Look at the lake!”
“Loch, Fairy,” corrected Alistair.
“Oooh! Do you have fairies here?!” Gabriela asked.
“Aye,” Lachlann grinned. “They come out at night and if we’re very quiet, they appear in the garden.”
“Oh, I want to see them.” The little girl clapped her hands. “I’ll keep quiet, I promise.”
Alistair smiled happily at Sophia as his father and Gabriela made plans for the evening.
Lachlann parked in front of the enormous double doors and immediately a liveried red-haired man came to open the Range Rover door as another took the key from his hand.
Gabriela hopped on the ground craning her neck to study the high turrets and tugged at Sophia’s hand. “Look, Mama. They have towers.” She eyed Alistair. “Do you keep prisoners in them?”
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