Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  Based on her behavior of late, he tried to analyze how she might feel about his past and his story with Heather. Outwardly, she’d shown only joy when with him, never asking about his wife. But privately, he knew she had unresolved feelings, that she was conflicted. Maybe because she still loves Gabriel.

  Sophia rubbed her cheek on Alistair’s shoulder and her finger drew random designs on his wide chest.

  He watched as the fire in the hearth danced over her body, illuminating and shadowing it in beautiful hues of orange.

  Unsure if he was doing the right thing, he mustered his courage and, paving the path to the story of his past, said softly, “You were the best thing that could have happened in my life.” He tightened the arm wrapped around her waist. “There is something in you that keeps my evil locked deep inside.”

  “Here you go again.” She lifted her head to look into his eyes. She knew she would find them troubled. There were so many things he kept buried inside him. “I don’t have this power, Alistair. It is all in here.” She poked at his chest. “I have never seen this darkness of yours. It eludes me. Don’t demonize yourself.”

  He sighed and pushed up, bringing her with him, sitting reclined on the cushioned headboard. He shifted until she was nestled between his bent legs, sideways on his chest. “You could say I had an alter ego.” He paused and a bitter laugh left his lips. “I hope you’re not afraid of horror stories. It’s time you met the monster, Sophia.”

  “God, Alistair.” She turned to look at him, both hands palmed on his broad chiseled chest. “You’re not a monster.”

  “Such trust you have in me,” he scoffed. “You are too young and innocent, Sophia. Let me introduce you to Mr. Hyde.”

  Sophia opened her mouth, but Alistair put a finger on her lips.

  “Hush,” he said. “Hear me out.”

  A creepy feeling chilled her, making her shiver. She snuggled closer to Alistair’s body. He was always warm.

  She looked at him. He was lost in his recollections. His face was turned up, his eyes closed.

  “I first met Heather at the bank Christmas party in December, 1999.”

  Chapter 12

  London, Kensington

  Galewick Town House

  Sunday, September 28, 2008

  1:01 p.m.

  “Sit, Alistair. You’re making me dizzy with all that pacing.” Leonard poured a glass of whisky for Alistair and one for himself. “Sit down, goddammit.”

  Alistair sat on the sofa as he felt the welcome burn of the whisky down his throat.

  “I’ve never seen you like this.” Leonard sat on the sofa in front of Alistair. “What’s happening?”

  “Leo, I need your help.” He leaned forward, put the glass on the center table and rubbed both hands on his face. “Your professional help.”

  Leonard frowned. “I’m here to help. Tell me.”

  “I want a divorce.”

  Leonard wanted to applaud and hug his brother-in-law, but he remained impassive on the sofa. “Have you talked about this with Heather?”

  “Aye. Nae.” Christ. What am I going to say? He raked his fingers through his hair, wanting to pull it from its roots as angst filled him.

  “Well?”

  Alistair shook his head, unnerved. “Leo, the thing is…Christ, this is so difficult.” He rose and started to pace the room again, fortifying himself with more whisky, which he drank in large gulps.

  “Alistair, this is usually an awkward issue. I won’t judge your reasons. They are yours and I understand. You can talk to me. Not one will know. Not even Alice.”

  “Something very serious happened in May, Leo,” he said while he helped himself to more whisky. “Well, I—It happened a few times before I…discovered what she was doing. I tried to reason with her. Make her see that I would not abide her…er, unprofessional behavior.” A soft lie.

  “Do Malcolm and Berkley know?” Leonard was now preoccupied. He thought that Alistair had discovered that Heather had been cheating on him. But from what he was saying, the problem seemed worse.

  I hope they never do. I don’t want to turn into the most famous English cuckold CEO. “No. I want her away from me, from the bank, and from Nathalie. I’ll pay whatever she wants.” He put his glass on the mantle and started pacing again. “I’ll give her the apartment, the Porsche—”

  “You don’t need to do that, Alistair. I know you signed a prenup.”

  “It’s a small price to pay to see her gone, Leo. I don’t want her near Nathalie. Not even for a single visit.”

  “No judge will give you that,” Leonard shook his head. “These cases are very rare. It has to be proven that the mother is dangerous to the child.”

  You have to tell him the truth, Alistair Connor! “Proof?” He snorted. “I will give up a file loaded with proof. Give me some days. Photos, witnesses, or their testimonies, anything you want, provided Nathalie’s identity is safeguarded. But, Leo, I want it done without her knowing about it.”

  “This is not so easy to achieve, Alistair. People usually say they’ll testify, but when you ask…they are not available anymore.”

  Alistair smirked. “Trust me, Leo. I can prove it.”

  “Get me proof. Then I will see what I can do.”

  Alistair sat heavily on the sofa and looking in his brother-in-law’s eyes, he said, “Let me tell the whole story. The true story.”

  The City of London Bank Headquarters

  Monday, December 15, 2008

  9:12 p.m.

  “Mr. MacCraig, good evening.”

  “Good evening. Come in, please, Baptist.” Alistair motioned to the sofa in his office. “It took you longer this time.”

  “Mr. MacCraig, I told you I needed more time to do this kind of work. It’s achieved only with a great dose of patience. And, in this case, I couldn’t delegate. That’s why I charged you more.” He sat on the sofa and opened a huge black briefcase and handed Alistair three thick files. “Here.”

  Only the sound of Alistair leafing through the sheets was heard in the room. A dark smile spread on his face.

  After a few moments, Baptist said, “I take it you are satisfied, Mr. MacCraig.”

  Alistair lifted his eyes to look at the detective and bobbed his head, slowly, “Aye, Baptist, aye. You did an outstanding job. An outstanding job.”

  Baptist smiled back, thinking he didn’t want to be in Heather’s shoes when Alistair MacCraig exacted his revenge.

  Heather and Alistair’s Apartment

  Friday, January 30, 2009

  6:03 p.m.

  “Alistair, honey.” Heather’s sugar-coated voice made Alistair’s stomach heave. “All I ask is one more chance.” She approached his rigid back, oblivious to the danger she was in, and leaned on him, her arms encircling his waist. “You know we are good together, sir.”

  “Nae, Heather. You had all your chances. I can’t take it anymore. I warned you, but you paid no attention.” Alistair slashed his hand in the air violently and stepped out of her embrace. If he stood near his wife for one more second, he would beat her to a pulp. With his heart full of hatred, he spat, “I’ve filed for a divorce.”

  He turned to look at her. Her face was chalk-white. However, he didn’t feel an ounce of pity for the woman.

  “Please,” she pleaded and approached him with outstretched hands. “Don’t do this.”

  His lips curled in distaste. He stepped back and fisted his hands. “I’m giving you the Porsche plus a million pounds. I’m sure you’ll be fine. And the apartment. It’s all yours, so you can continue with your drug-fueled orgies.”

  “Sir, how can you say that? I love you,” she purred.

  Alistair felt sick as he looked at the woman he had married. He couldn’t bear to stay one more minute in the same room as her. He looked at his watch. “Where is Nathalie? She should have arrived by now.”

  “She asked to sleep over at Alice’s,” she lied, knowing full well that Nathalie’s nanny was already bringing their daughte
r home from her sister-in-law’s house. “Was I wrong to say yes?”

  Alistair didn’t deign to answer. He turned and marched out of his home office.

  Heather heard the front door bang loudly.

  “Oh, no, Alistair Connor. No.” She slowly sat down on a chair. Anger took hold of her as she picked up the phone and dialed her sister’s number. “Emma, it’s me.”

  “Daddy?” Nathalie’s blonde head appeared at the office door. “Where is Daddy?”

  “Hold on, Emma.” Heather looked at her daughter with so much hatred in her blue eyes that the little girl was startled. “He’s gone, Nathalie. And it’s your fault. All your fault. Go to my room. Now!”

  Tears filled the little girl’s eyes as she ran to her bedroom and flung herself on the little bed. She wouldn’t believe her mother’s words. She knew her father loved her. She grabbed her favorite doll and curled up in bed, waiting for her father to come back. She knew he would return to take her away with him.

  Nathalie clutched the doll against her chest when her mother appeared in her room with a twisted, crazed look in her face. “I told you to wait for me in my room. We are going to Aunt Emma’s.”

  “Mommy, I want to wait for Daddy.”

  “I won’t say it again, brat. Move.”

  “I don’t want to go to Aunt Emma’s. Daddy promised me he will put me to sleep.”

  “Your father makes promises he can’t keep, Nathalie.” Heather’s laughter chilled Nathalie, but she was too afraid of her mother to disobey. “Besides, he has more important things to do than to think about you.”

  The little girl’s eyes filled with tears again as she followed her mother to her parents’ room and lay on the bed, smelling her father’s cologne on the pillow. The scent lulled her to sleep while Heather packed a suitcase with clothes for the two of them.

  Chapter 13

  Ells Hall

  Friday, March 19, 2010

  11:36 p.m.

  Oh, no. Heather’s ghost is about to enter the room. Sophia sat up abruptly, moving away from his body, her eyes wide, her lips parted in surprise, nausea making her stomach roll.

  Alistair scrutinized her face. “You don’t want to know?” His question was almost a statement, such was the wariness he saw on her face.

  Sophia bit her lower lip and twisted a lock of her long hair around her index finger in doubt. “I’ll be right back.”

  She jumped from the bed and picked up her long wrap, walking to the bathroom. She leaned her hands on the sink. Do I want to know? She blinked slowly. Deep inside she knew that all the dark shadows she had glimpsed on Alistair’s face were going to surface. Nothing can be that bad.

  When she returned to the bedroom moments later, her face was perfectly composed. She had erected an emotional shield, but fear still lingered in the depths her eyes. She stopped at the end of the bed and hesitated. A sudden desire to flee from the room made her lightheaded. She gripped her cold hands to hide their trembling.

  “Come here,” Alistair whispered the order, stretching out his hand.

  Sophia took his hand and sat on the edge of the bed, facing him. “Tell me your story.”

  “As I was saying, I met Heather for the first time at the bank Christmas party I was twenty-five and she was twenty-nine. I was stupid and young and in awe of her. She was…even more beautiful than Emma.” If there is any beauty in them.

  “In April 2001, I was promoted to financial director and moved to her department. My status then changed. I wasn’t a minor partner anymore. A week later, I found an envelope on my desk with my name on it. Inside was a photo of her with an explicit invitation, an address, and a key. You know…”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “She asked me to fuck her.”

  The air left Sophia’s lungs. “Really?”

  “She was never coy. She stated directly what she wanted although we barely knew each other.

  Sophia was mortified. “God. You must have found my resistance ridiculous.”

  “Would you believe me if I said it was refreshing? You are special, mo chridhe.” He hugged her and kissed her hair, lost in his bad memories. If you’d asked me for another month, I would have waited.

  “Then?” she coached, quietly.

  “Everyone at the bank wanted Heather. Her invitation went to my head, as you can imagine. They pursued her incessantly and she invited me—me—to her apartment. Well, to be brief—”

  A morbid fascination possessed her. “Ah-ah! Now, I want details.” Sophia’s voice was deceptively soft, but she was restless. She had to understand the full story.

  “Sophia, it was a kind of drug addiction. It’s not a pretty story. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, introduce me to Mr. Hyde and his bed-partner. Let me be the judge.”

  Counselor, your opinion about me is going to change if I tell you everything. “Heather was…insatiable. She wore me out every night and every morning, and on weekends, we spent the whole day fucking. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was…sick. I didn’t even make the first move. I didn’t have to suggest things. Nothing was too much. Nothing was enough. It was a hell of a relationship. She aimed to please and to be pleased. She moved in with me at the end of the third month. I lived in a permanent state of arousal. I didn’t know if she would corner me in my office or in the men’s toilet for a quickie or what was going to happen at night. She usually went home earlier than me and prepared.”

  “Alistair. It seems my…sexual education—or my imagination—is lacking.” Sophia’s strained her voice to mask her curiosity. “Please, explain.”

  “Suffice it to say that she liked things rough.” He noticed Sophia’s eyes growing gradually huge.

  “But…I…”

  He shook his head interrupting her thoughts. “Not the kind that you like. Violent, degrading things.”

  “And you?” she whispered.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Did you like those things?”

  Alistair gazed at Sophia for a moment. “Some of these things I had already tried and liked.” Her S&M style was a bit harsh but I grew used to it.

  She was stunned. “Do you miss the things you did with her?”

  “Nae, listen to me. I’m quite satisfied with my sexual life with you.” This time, white teeth flashed in a crooked smile. “I won’t lie and say that I don’t have a few fantasies that I want to try with you.”

  “Alistair Connor. I never did anything…violent. I don’t like pain.” She twisted her hair around her fingers. “I have never been to a sex shop. I don’t even have the creativity to imagine the pleasure a person gets from that kind of violence.” She was disturbed. “My sexual life is…too normal, too bland? Am I missing something here?”

  “No, Beauty.” He studied her face. “Would you like to try something…different?”

  Sophia looked away.

  Alistair could touch the sudden tension in the room, but waited quietly for her answer.

  “I—Alistair, I’ve—Tonight, for example, the French maid costume…it was a different thing. Yeah, I could try a few different things, however…I—” She frowned. We were talking about you and Heather, not about me and you. “What happened then?”

  Sophia’s question wasn’t prompted by curiosity. It was a need to shed some light on the painful shadows she glimpsed in his eyes. She wanted to first hear his version of the facts. Perhaps, then, she could let Alice or Tavish talk. Not before.

  “In hindsight, what I had with Heather was all just one big bad experience. There were so many wrong aspects in our relationship that I’m still astounded—disgusted, even—by my own behavior.”

  Alistair looked into her eyes. His face was grave and the pain in his eyes so fierce that it scared her. “I was her sex toy—or she was my sex slave—I don’t really know. And don’t ask me why, but I liked it. I didn’t see what was coming until it was too late.” He looked at his hands and whispered, “And then she got pregnant. I was careless…and after a few bro
ken condoms, I decided to go on without them. She had told me she was clean and on birth control.”

  How dare you, Alistair Connor! But even though she was angered by this revelation, she knew it was not time to talk about how it was an absolute requirement that she be checked before going without condoms.

  “When she told me, I was ecstatic. I’d always loved children. It was to be my first child,” he muttered.

  Oh, God. “Nathalie?”

  He looked up at Sophia and gave her a sad smile. “Nae. I went to Craigdale with her and told my parents that I was in love and was going to marry her.”

  “Were you?” she asked.

  He raised his ink-black brows, questioning.

  “In love? Were you in love with her?”

  “I thought I was.” He crossed his arms over his chest, in a defensive position. “My parents saw what I couldn’t. Heather was a greedy whore, without morals or feelings for me. She didn’t love me.” He looked down and his arms opened, his hands falling heavily on his thighs. “But then, how could she?”

  “How could she not?” Sophia edged closer, grabbed his hand, and putting it against her cheek, she murmured, “You are so easy to love.”

  “Am I?” His lids lifted; there was no light in his forest-green eyes.

  “Yes. So lovable,” she reaffirmed, soothing him, and pulled his hand on her lap, between hers, caressing his knuckles. “What did your parents do when you told them you wanted to marry her?”

  “Well, they refused to acknowledge her as my fiancée and we got married at a Registry Office. Just the two of us. Not even Alice or Tavish Uilleam went. They also disapproved of her, by the way,” he huffed. “I had no more friends. I spent my days working and my nights and weekends having wild, depraved sex.” He laughed, disgusted. “Heather wanted money, status, a handsome face and an insane, dark lover with stamina to handle her. I wonder…” A lock of his raven hair fell over his eyes and he let it remain there. “She had never wanted me, Alistair Connor. I was just another step she used to get her way. But then, what did I really have to offer her?”