He tilted his head trying to understand the cryptic remark. “Nae, we are no’ perfect. But we’re responsible for our acts.”
A strange expression masked her beautiful face. She straightened up to her full height and crossed her arms over her chest. A dark smile spread on her lips and she whispered to him, “Only if we get caught.” That’s enough, Sophia.
He raised his brows, astonished at another cryptic remark and her weird stance.
She drank the rest of her water and turned her back to him, shaking her head as if scolding herself. She threw the bottle with rage into the rubbish bin in the far corner of the kitchen and stared in that direction.
Alistair strolled to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and digging his fingers into her skin, massaging her tense muscles.
She relaxed into his chest, whispering, “Mmm, I like that.”
He bent his head and kissed her hair, murmuring, “I like you.”
“Promise me something?”
“What, Beauty?”
She turned in his arms, placed her palms on his chest, and fixed him with her hazel, troubled gaze. “Don’t turn your anger unfairly toward me. Trust isn’t something I bestow easily. It’s something precious. You have it or you don’t. Like faith, like love. It’s blind. It has to be. If I trust, if I love, I’ll always believe you, no matter the circumstances.”
Her eyes were open windows to a scared and hurt soul and Alistair drowned in them as they showed him all her feelings.
“Don’t doubt my word. It’s the most valuable thing I could ever give you.”
4:30 p.m.
Leaning on the doorjamb of the kitchen, Sophia stared at Alistair.
She had seen him wearing formal and informal clothes. And no clothes at all.
Now though, resting on the kitchen counter eating leftovers from their lunch, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, he had never been sexier.
His hair was still wet from the shower and small rivulets of water ran down his neck, bare chest, and back.
“Hungry?” he asked as he saw her.
For an edible hunk. Pushing from the threshold, Sophia sauntered over to him.
“No.” She smiled and shook her head at the plate of food he held. She picked up a glass from the cupboard and poured some fresh passion fruit juice she had made for breakfast. “Seems you are. But then I can’t think of many people that eat as much as you do.”
“I have to keep strong. You consume all my calories.” He stabbed a steamed broccoli and waved it at her. “Besides, this cooking of yours, it’s too light. Too many vegetables. That is why you’re so thin.”
“No, it’s not true.” She laughed. “I eat everything. I just prefer to eat healthy food at home.”
She knew how good her food was and she could tell how much he liked it. She had prepared a green salad with buffalo mozzarella, grilled salmon with honey mustard sauce, and steamed vegetables. Sophia motioned to the juice. “Do you want some?”
“No’ now, thanks.”
She took a seat at the table and gazed out the window at her beautiful garden outside.
“Sophia?”
Pulled from her thoughts by the soft sound of her name, she looked up and saw him watching her intently.
“Yes?”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah,” she nodded absentmindedly. “I was just wondering…” She drank the juice, her gaze unfocused. I was wondering if this is true. If it’s not another bad joke God is playing on me. She had meditated on these questions more and more since she’d starting going out with him.
He sat beside her and curled his fingers under her chin, making her face him. “What? What were you wondering?”
Needing reassurance, she voiced her thoughts, “Is this true? Is it real?”
“Aye, it is.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her right ear. “It’s for real. As long as we want it to be.”
She tilted her head, a thoughtful frown creasing her forehead. Really? Not just a passing infatuation?
His finger smoothed out the lines on her brow. “Don’t you worry. I want this to work. And it seems to me that you do too. Now,” a slow smile spread over his face, “I want to collect a promise.”
“What promise?” Her brows lowered.
“Your promise to take me for a ride in your McLaren. I wish to see if you are really as good a driver as you claim you are. We can dine at The Waterside Inn in Berkshire. It’s a restaurant with rooms, as they like to call it. A very common concept in France. We can spend the night there. The accommodations are spectacular. It’s about an hour’s drive. What do you think?”
“I’m game.” She smiled, looking up at him.
“Great. Do you want to spend the night there?”
“Why not? We can take some wine, and, please,” she ogled him, stressing the word, “you can choose from my cellar as if you were choosing from yours.”
He put his hands up. “I will. Don’t worry. I don’t want to incur your wrath. Again.”
She harrumphed playfully. “I’m going to pack, and then we can swing by your place to pick up your things.”
5:48 p.m.
“Sophia! Slow down!” Alistair grabbed the door handle when she exited a sharp curve at eighty miles per hour.
Her laugh rang in the car. “Scared?” she asked, without taking her eyes from the road and pressed down on the accelerator. In a second, the needle jumped to a hundred and sixty-five miles per hour.
The powerful motor roared and they were pressed against the plush leather seats. “Jesus Christ!”
“Chicken!” Just before she entered another curve, she slowed down a bit, but still took the turn at a hundred and ten miles per hour. She slowed down to enjoy the drive and glanced at Alistair, rigid on the seat with his face drawn taut. “You asked for it. I told you I was a good driver.”
“Are you trying to kill us both?” His voice was dry.
“No, of course not.” She chuckled. “I’ve always driven well, and last year I took a special defensive driving course offered by a former policeman in São Paulo.”
“And you call this defensive?” He started to relax on the seat. “I would say it’s aggressive driving.”
“Handsome.” She smiled, amazed at his behavior. “It’s defensive driving against kidnapping or such. It’s all about speed, being in control of minute movements and having complete knowledge of what the car can do.”
“Indeed.” He exhaled loudly, still mad at her. “You do drive quite well.” I have to concede.
“Thanks. I’m used to this beauty.” She caressed the steering wheel and checked the route on her GPS. “We’ll get there in about fifteen minutes, I guess.”
“Sophia, this car is more of a beast than a beauty,” he snorted, “like your horses.”
“Well, then. They’re beautiful, gorgeous beasts. I do love powerful things.” She smirked at him with a malicious gleam in her eyes, measuring him. “They make interesting toys.”
He fell into an astonished silence. How dare she? “Toys,” he repeated slowly, experiencing the word on his tongue, “toys.” Sophia, I’m not a man to trifle with. Her explicit bantering and debasement of him surprised and aroused him. Leaning over, an evil look on his face, he whispered in her ear, “One day, I’m going to introduce you to some of my toys.”
She smiled naïvely at him, unaware of his dark thoughts. “I think I’d like that.”
“Don’t be so certain, Sophia,” he murmured.
Why? She looked at him, a wary look coming over her face. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer and changed the subject. “I want you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“Promise me.”
“No,” she answered firmly. Enough with the unknown promises. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Please, state your case.” The small joke didn’t lessen her refusal.
“Promise me that you won’t
go driving again, like a lunatic, without warning me.”
“No.”
“Nae?!” Alistair saw red. “Did you just say nae?”
“I just said no,” she confirmed, and repeated, “no.”
He raked his left hand through his long hair. “Sophia, you don’t want to defy me.”
“Oh? I don’t?” She blinked. “But it’s not a question of defying you. No, not at all. It’s more a question of you ordering me around. I don’t respond well to being ordered or bullied. I’ve told you so.”
“Then we will have to work on that,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I don’t think so.” She mashed the accelerator, the needle jumping up again. “I hate being ordered around. Try to ask gently, for a change. I might, let me repeat, I might think about your request. Got it?”
Where did I find this insane woman? Why have I involved myself with her? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. How am I going to deal with her?
“Got. It?” Sophia asked again, peering at his expression.
“Aye.” He clipped his answer; his accent strong, “I. Got. It.”
He stared at the sinking sun, struck by the violent searing colors across the sky. The dark blue sky slashed with fierce reds and oranges, mirroring his own crazed feelings.
In the last few years, Alistair had been all about control. If she destroyed his control, she would destroy him. She stirred his emotions to a startling degree, a treacherous height. Since Heather, no woman has ever made me…need. Face it, Alistair Connor. She makes you want more than a quick fuck. That’s why you have been putting up with all her whims.
Sophia drove in silence for a few minutes, pondering his entreaty, stealing a quick glance at him; his hands were clenched in fists, resting on his thighs.
He brooded, looking straight ahead, his eyes half-closed and fine lines creasing the sides of his eyes.
“Alistair…” She glanced again at his rugged profile illuminated by the beautiful sunset.
“Aye?” He turned his head slowly to study her face.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”
“So, you are promising me no’ to do it?”
“No, I’m not. This is something I very much like to do and I don’t like having to explain what I do or don’t do,” she answered. “In fact, I’d say it’s vital to have some freedom. And as you see, I drive quite well.”
“I’ll worry.” His voice had lost its dry tone and anxiety had taken its place.
“I understand.” She mused, “Nonetheless, risk is a part of life.”
“A part of it I don’t like. I’ve had enough of losing control. And I’ve seen where taking risks like these lead.” He shifted on the seat to better look at her and his right hand squeezed her left thigh. “Death.”
Oh, God, Alistair. I didn’t even think of that. “Don’t worry. I don’t intend to die soon.”
His lips twitched. “That’s very reassuring.”
“And I promise I’ll be careful, okay?” Sophia added as she parked the car at the main entrance of the charming hotel.
I hope so. I do hope so. He nodded, silently.
“Mademoiselle, welcome to The Waterside Inn.” The valet lifted the McLaren door.
Sophia thanked him and opened the trunk for him to retrieve her bag, but Alistair was already there and took both his and hers in one hand.
He stretched out his free hand to her, an olive-branch offering, which she didn’t refuse.
It’s really cozy. Sophia breathed in the chilly night air as they walked to Ryepeck Cottage, one of a few that were dotted around the restaurant. The Waterside Inn was more personal than an average hotel.
“We don’t offer room service, but there’s a guest kitchen at the end of the corridor where you’ll find a Nespresso coffee machine and a variety of teas. And of course, a continental breakfast is served in the morning in your room or in the private garden. Just call us whenever you are ready,” the staff member explained proudly. He led them down the corridor to their suite, where he opened the door and held it for them.
Located on the first floor, La Rivière, the suite Alistair had chosen, had a comfortable sitting room next to the bedroom, with a king-sized bed, and a bathroom with a combined tub and shower, enormous fluffy white towels, and many L’Occitane toiletries.
Sophia emerged from the bathroom and looked at the luxurious rooms all done in red-and-gold silks and damasks. She kicked off her leather loafers and threw herself on the bed, stretching.
“These seem very comfortable,” he said, pointing to her shoes.
“I have a hard time finding shoes my size, so every time I go to Buenos Aires, I buy three or four pairs. They have incredible shoes for men too.”
He made a face. “Probably not in my size. I wear thirteen and a half, UK size. I’ve always had problems with clothes and shoes.”
“Rochester Big & Tall, then?” She chuckled. “Or bribe every salesman in England to hold the only available pair of shoes in your size, and shirts and cardigans with the longest sleeves, and the longest jeans.”
He laughed. “Aye, how did you guess?”
“Although Gabriel is not as tall as you, he has—” She choked at her slip. Unnerved, she jumped from the bed and strolled barefoot out to the private garden, which ran to the edge of the River Thames.
She sat on a bench, tucking her feet under her legs, and missing the enchanting view of the river as she blinked away her tears.
Fuck you, Gabriel. Fuck you. Alistair grabbed the coat she had neatly hanged in the closet and walked to her side, putting it over her shoulders.
“Tomorrow we’re going to have breakfast by the river,” he said, sitting by her side, pointing to a table strategically set under an old majestic tree to his right. “It’s lovely here.”
“Do you often think about your daughter?” she asked in a small voice.
“Every day,” he murmured in her hair, his arms encompassing her and bringing her to his lap. “Every single day.”
They remained quiet for some minutes, each one immersed in their own thoughts, the sound of the water lapping at the sand, soothing their scarred souls.
“When did she die?” Alistair’s neck muffled Sophia’s voice.
“Last year, on January thirtieth. When they lowered her little coffin to the earth, I almost flung myself into that fucking hole.” He shuddered and lifted her chin to make her look at him. “I made a promise to her that day that I would never, ever let a woman in my life.” He lowered his head to kiss her gently, and he whispered on her lips, “May she forgive me.”
Chapter 19
8:55 p.m.
“Everything I hoped and expected,” Alistair said, putting a hand on his flat stomach. “The Roux family is blessed.”
They were seated at the rear of the restaurant. The tables were more intimate, and they could enjoy the ebb and flow of the River Thames reflected in the mirrored panels above their heads.
“If only every day were like this,” she sighed, contentedly, enjoying the elegant environment.
“This is just the beginning, Sophia. Our days together will be memorable.” He leaned in to kiss her leisurely on the lips. “Now, the best part of dinner: dessert.”
“I didn’t know you liked it so much,” she said.
He grinned broadly. “Oh, I do like dessert. But, sweetheart,” he brushed his thumb over her lips, “what fascinates me is the way you make love to the dammed thing. To say it drives me crazy doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
She laughed. “Next time I’ll order dessert as an entrée, main course, and dessert.”
“Then I’ll have to have you on the table, in the middle of our dinner.” His beautiful eyes flashed devilishly.
She thinned her lips, trying to contain her laughter, but it bubbled up anyway. “Alistair Connor! You have the strangest ideas.”
“I love it when you call me Alistair Connor.”
“Alistair Connor,” she said, raspily. “It’
s a beautiful name. As strong as its owner. What does your name mean?”
“I have no idea.” He shrugged. “And yours?”
“Sophia is Greek for wisdom.” She grabbed her iPhone from her purse. “Let’s see what yours means.”
“That’s what I call powerful.” She whistled low as the answer appeared on the screen and looked at him. “Alistair means the savior of mankind.”
I’m no savior, Sophia. Nothing is less apt.
She typed in his second name and scanned the information. “Connor. Also Gaelic, like Alistair.” Her lips curled up and she looked at him with teasing eyes. “Sure you want to know?”
He nodded, smiling.
“Lover of hounds. And I thought you were fond of women,” she giggled.
“Still in doubt about that, Sophia?” Alistair raised his brows at her taunting. “Seems to me that I’ll have to strive to prove it to you.”
“Seems so, Alistair Connor.” Her smile broadened and a mischievous look appeared in her eyes.
Alistair jumped in his seat when her hand clamped down on his crotch. He hissed in a breath, “Christ, Sophia.”
She shifted on her chair and blinked innocently at him. “What?”
“Don’t play with fire.” He leaned toward her, his hand diving under the table to press hers down onto him. “If you don’t want to get burned.”
She batted her long, dark lashes at him while brushing her fingers on his growing erection. “Alistair Connor, I’m just testing a theory.”
“Very funny,” he huffed. Then a slow rakish grin spread on his face. “Please, feel free to test it then. Right here, right now.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Are you coaxing me, Alistair Connor?”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he challenged.
“Oh,” she breathed. The mix of the potential danger and strong lust turning her blood to lava. She smiled as she bent in his direction, her hand still fondling him, and murmured in his ear, “Oh. Wouldn’t I? Wanna bet?”
Shades of Trust Page 36