Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  Ethan didn’t answer. He knew his grandfather’s words made sense, if analyzed with cold detachment, but his deception and his hurt were too great to let him forgive so easily.

  Niarchos stood up and watched as Ethan gazed at the horizon. He closed his heart to his grandson’s pain. He never doubted the correctness of his own ways. “It is hurting now and I know you don’t understand, but one day you will thank me, Ethan. One day you will learn that we have to protect those we love. No matter the cost.”

  Niarchos turned and walked back to the house, reasoning that sometimes suffering forged a better man. He was powerful and rich, because life had taught him that pity and gentleness brought only betrayal.

  That minor incident would teach Ethan how to be a stronger man.

  And Ethan would be ready to take on his world when he gave it to him.

  Ells Hall

  Monday, April 5, 2010

  10:15 a.m.

  Sophia woke up feeling very dizzy. Gingerly, she propped herself up and groaned softly at her still hurting shoulder and throbbing head.

  She slid off the bed and crossed the room unsteadily to the dressing room looking for the pills Tavish had given her. Grabbing a bottle of water from the small fridge, she gulped down two pills.

  She entered the bathroom and washed her face, then scowled at her black-and-blue reflection in the mirror as she brushed her teeth and hair. God, Sophia. You look terrible.

  She gingerly changed into a comfortable dress and slipped on a pair of pumps.

  Sophia packed her small suitcase. She knew Alistair wanted to go back after tea and she didn’t want him to think she was an invalid. He had been treating her as if she would break at any moment. Sophia’s lips curled in amazement as she closed her carry-on.

  She straightened and walked a few paces before dizziness hit her hard. Her right arm jutted out sideways and she breathed deep, waiting for the spinning sensation to pass.

  Damned drugs. She cursed herself for giving in so easily and taking the sedative Alistair had gotten from Tavish in the early hours of the morning when she was feeling restless and in pain. Idiot. And you just took more codeine now. Great, Sophia. Just great.

  Carefully, she released the door she’d used to steady herself and her hand brushed the key.

  The old lock unfastened and it opened.

  She blinked twice and approached the neatly organized shelves with numerous sex toys. She had never been to a sex shop, but she was sure she was looking at an impressive array of stock.

  She picked up a box that said: Menage à trois for two.

  A threesome for two? She giggled nervously. What the hell? She turned the box in her hand and gaped at the photograph illustrating the back cover. Hmm. Creative.

  For once Sophia didn’t really know what to do. Should I close this door and not mention it or…or what, Sophia? She laughed. Or should I call him up here and ask him to show me what these things do?

  She slowly pulled open the next door and this time her gasp was from shock.

  Surely, this is some bad joke. She closed her eyes.

  When she opened them the closet was still there. As were the metal handcuffs, floggers, and other things she couldn’t name. This is a…what?

  She picked up her iPhone and photographed the contents.

  Then Sophia carefully closed and locked both doors and went down to have her breakfast with a nasty feeling in her stomach.

  Somewhere over England, On the way back to London

  In Alistair MacCraig’s G650

  7:25 p.m.

  What power goaded me into declaring my hand so early? I should have waited. We were practically living together. He shook his head at himself. It was sheer madness.

  Yet he could feel the urge to conquer, to seize and to hold her forever, flaring even now, simply at the thought of her answer.

  And what was nagging him was the cold civility she had wrapped around herself since breakfast, keeping him at bay. He was sure he would go insane before the end of the day, if she didn’t revert to her usual self.

  She had pleaded a bad headache and a painful shoulder before they took off, had taken a painkiller and retreated to the stateroom.

  He knew better. Sophia was not a complainer, despite Tavish telling him that she could have been feeling pain.

  The conversation was flowing around him, but he was barely paying attention. He’d already given a completely idiotic answer to something Leonard had asked and received a knowing glance from his brother-in-law.

  He looked at the beautiful sunset and sighed,

  Excusing himself, Alistair made a cup of tea at the bar and went to the back, knocking softly on the stateroom door. As no answer came, he pushed the door and quietly entered the shaded room, placing the cup in the round indentation of the table by the sofa. Many thoughts crossed his mind as he sat on the bed and studied Sophia’s sleeping face. Maybe she doesn’t like that I’ve been acting like a tyrant since she fainted.

  His fingers toyed with her long raven locks. Sophia stirred and started to stretch her body and her neck, only to stop abruptly at the pain in her shoulder when she moved her left arm.

  “Careful…” he murmured and helped her up to a sitting position. “How are you feeling?”

  She didn’t look at his face and her smile was contained. “Better. Thank you.”

  Alistair’s heart clenched. His selfishness now was limited to just one point: he wanted her to need him, want him, love him.

  No woman in his life had ever cared for him just because he was Alistair Connor. They wanted his position, his beauty, his sex-drive, and his money.

  But not Sophia.

  He knew she liked and cared for him. He didn’t understand what had changed so suddenly.

  Alistair was a very proud man, but not enough to pretend that Sophia loved him the way he needed her to. He tried a joke to soften the tension. “Were you planning to ignore me the entire flight, you stubborn woman?”

  “Sorry,” Sophia murmured, realizing she had no will to ignore him. Not at all. But something inside her was insisting that she needed to understand what she had discovered.

  “Do you feel better? Can I open the shades?” He touched the button to open them as she nodded. He pointed to the table by the sofa. “I brought you some tea.”

  “Thank you.” When she started to sit, Alistair’s arms immediately went around her to help her out of bed. She smiled at his mindful embrace. “I’m not going to break, you know? I’m a tough gal.”

  “I know. But I like to take care of you,” he said softly, almost sadly, helping her onto the sofa and handing her the teacup.

  Oh, Alistair Connor. You are breaking my heart with this sadness. What am I going to do with you? Sophia forgot about drinking her tea.

  Absentminded, she put the cup back on the table, staring deep into his beautiful eyes, struggling to piece this complex man together with what she had seen in his dressing room.

  She inhaled and his sweet vanilla scent and his familiar face clouded her senses, taking away the cold she was feeling inside since the morning.

  “You are beautiful.” He also hadn’t taken his eyes off her face and didn’t resist her parted lips, kissing her tenderly.

  She almost felt like crying with the sweet tenderness of his kiss.

  He cupped her face in his big hands as he rested his forehead on hers, whispering, “I love you, Sophia.” Please, don’t make me wait too long.

  Atwood House, Gabriela’s bedroom

  8:25 p.m.

  Alistair laid down a sleeping Gabriela on her bed and gently batted Sophia’s hand away from the coverlet. “Leave this to me.” He tugged it around the child’s small body and bent to kiss her blonde head, murmuring, “Sweet dreams, Fairy.”

  They walked quietly out of the room.

  Alistair hesitated in the TV room. A gut feeling told him he was not going to be invited to sleep over. “I will see myself out,” he said. “There is no need to go down with me.”


  Sophia’s hand shot out to hold his.

  He stopped and a light illuminated his face.

  “Have dinner with me. A quick snack. I mean…if you feel—”

  He stepped in her direction and rested her head on his chest, burying his nose in her hair. “Thank you.”

  Sophia was startled at the intensity of the feelings he put in those two words. Oh, God. What am I doing to this fierce man?

  10:50 p.m.

  “Good night, then.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave a little peck on his lips.

  Alistair paused a moment on the threshold. “Sophia…take your time. Think about it—”

  She put a finger on his lips. “I will. Good night. Sleep well, my dear.”

  She waved him good-bye and walked inside the house as Zareb closed the double doors.

  Alistair closed the car door and touched the intercom, “Garrick, my place. Then pick up Tavish Uilleam at Alice’s house and take him home.”

  “Yes, sir.” Garrick didn’t like his boss’s dispirited voice. Not at all. He was going to make sure that his brother knew what was happening. He decided he was not going to take Alistair home. Instead, without Alistair noticing, Garrick texted Tavish and drove over to Alice’s first.

  Sophia turned to Zareb as he closed the doors. “I’ll be going out in the Mercedes in…ten minutes, I believe.”

  Zareb’s eyes widened and he looked at her shoulder and back to her face. “Mrs. Leibowitz, you are not fit to drive—”

  “Then, please call me a taxi. Steven is probably sleeping by now. I’m not going far.”

  Zareb stiffened, clearly offended, and towered over her, his usual smiling face stern. “Mrs. Leibowitz, I’m sorry. You are not going anywhere, driving or in a taxi. It’s not safe. You shouldn’t be alone. I will call Steven and we are taking you wherever you need.”

  Sophia bit her lip. She knew Zareb was right.

  However, she doubted she had the courage to ask her driver and bodyguard to take her to a sex shop.

  Chapter 18

  Alistair MacCraig’s Apartment

  11:14 p.m.

  The stubborn, unmanageable woman waved me good-bye and walked inside. It seems ages ago. I need her back. I want to be back at her house. I want to rip off her clothes and fuck her until she knows—and I know—she’s still mine. Only mine. Alistair pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind. He couldn’t allow his desire to rule his actions. Not now.

  She was so pale and I’m sure it wasn’t only from the pain. He worried about what had happened; everything had been going so smoothly. She said she needed time to think, right, but then—Fuck! Stop thinking about the past and get on with some plan to make her realize you are the one for her.

  “Alistair Connor? Is everything all right?” Tavish cocked his head. Alistair hadn’t uttered a single word on the ride over. When Tavish asked if he needed company, Alistair just nodded vaguely.

  Alistair didn’t even hear his brother’s question.

  “Alistair Connor.” Tavish’s call came to him through a haze of confusion, passion, and fear, all mixed together. “Alistair Connor! Snap out of it! What are you staring at?”

  “The…” Awkwardly, Alistair cleared his throat and helplessly glanced around. “The paintings.”

  Tavish looked at him through squinted eyes.

  “What?” He looked at his whisky and noticed that he hadn’t drunk it. He gulped it down in a single toss.

  “I can never remember, are the pupils larger when someone’s drunk or smaller?”

  “Drunk? I am no’ drunk!”

  “Then you’re on drugs. You’re staring at the fucking paintings like you’re aroused.” He raised a mocking eyebrow. “At least I hope you’re on something, otherwise we have bigger problems than I thought.”

  Alistair didn’t feel like answering. He felt like brooding. He stood up and paced the room.

  Tavish sat down, resting his face on his palm, and observed his brother as he raked a hand through his long hair. He understood that jokes weren’t going to make Alistair talk.

  “All right. Spill, Alistair Connor. You look even more worried now than you did on the plane.”

  “I am,” he admitted, grabbing the bottle of whisky. He kicked Tavish out of his favorite armchair and slouched in it. “I’m an asshole, Tavish Uilleam.”

  “Oh, man. This is new.” Tavish laughed and moved to the other armchair. “I never thought I’d agree with you a hundred percent. You, Alistair Connor, are a huge asshole.”

  “Shut up. It’s complicated.”

  “Uncomplicate it then,” he chuckled.

  “I think I lost her.” The words left Alistair’s mouth without permission.

  “Jesus!” Tavish sat upright on the armchair. “How?”

  I don’t know. And if my suspicions are right I can’t tell you. “And you know what’s worse…I truly don’t know why and I’m afraid.” He suddenly understood his loss and it squeezed the air from his chest.

  “Why?”

  There was a scared look in his eyes that would surprise those who saw only the hard, blunt surface that he showed the world. “She’s driving me mad. She is cold and barely civil with me—”

  “You are talking about Sophia, right? Your Sophia? Cold? Uncivil?” Tavish shook his head. “Impossible, she’s a dear.”

  “Oh, aye, she is. A dear, an angel, a beauty, a goddess. Everything. Anything.” He knew he was not making sense anymore. He ran a hand over his face, gulped down his whisky. “I proposed,” he sighed deeply, “and she refused.”

  To his credit, Tavish did not swear, nor did he laugh. He merely stared at Alistair as if he had just announced that the world would end in the next minute.

  “I beg your pardon?” Tavish was speechless, confused by Alistair’s action and Sophia’s response. “What happened? From the beginning, please.”

  “That’s not so bad, is it? Asking for time to think?” Alistair asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m in love with her, Tavish Uilleam. Crazy in love. Insanely in love.”

  “As if she weren’t too.” Thoughts were again starting to form coherently in Tavish’s mind. “She looks at you with adoration in her eyes. Both of them do actually. Sophia and Gabriela.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it…maybe she just needs some time. To digest what she’s remembered.”

  “I don’t think that’s it.” Come on, Alistair Connor. Man up and talk to your brother. He gives good advice. Alistair opened his mouth and closed it again.

  “So what is it then?”

  “I don’t know,” Alistair shook his head disheartened and repeated quietly, “I doona know.”

  On the way to Soho

  11:31 p.m.

  Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Sophia mulled over the last months of her life.

  In truth, she was caught completely off guard by Alistair’s proposal. It filled her with hope, elation, and a fear so deep she choked on it. Everything she wanted was right there at her fingertips. She could take it and know he offered it truly. The memory of what she saw in his dressing room flooded her mind and she remembered the times Alistair had asked for pain and violence in sex.

  Even without the proposal, am I ready to continue in a relationship where I know nothing about the man I have been with for months?

  Her car stopped.

  Should I give him a chance? Should I? How can I know what it’s like without trying? And do I want to try? She breathed deep and without looking at Steven, who held the door open for her, with his usual impassive face, alighted from her Jaguar.

  She looked both ways and chewed her lip. Damn, Alistair Connor. Damn you.

  Sophia took a deep breath, mustered all her courage and pushed open the door to the sex shop.

  She stopped inside, unsure.

  At that time of the night, the shop was still busy.

  Now, Sophia. You are inside. Just do what you have to do and get out of here.

  “Good evening.” A short,
middle-aged plump woman approached as she noticed Sophia’s insecurity and smiled, friendly. “I’m Mary. May I help you?”

  God. She looks like a kindergarten teacher. What is she doing here? Oh please, Sophia, stop wondering about other people’s lives. “H-Hi,” she stammered. “I, ah…I have a party to go—” Oh, yeah, Sophia. A party to go to on a Monday, at midnight.

  “Yes?” The attendant didn’t even blink. She’d heard many weird excuses over the years.

  Sophia cleared her throat, “I have a party to go to, and I’m supposed to take a gift for…” Think, think! “A gift for my newly divorced friend.”

  “I see.” The expression on the woman’s face didn’t reveal if she knew Sophia was lying. “And do you have something in mind? Lingerie, or a dildo, perhaps?”

  The attendant motioned to a wall covered with dildos and vibrators. Of every length and width imaginable. And many other things that Sophia didn’t even recognize.

  Sophia walked over to the wall and paused in front of it, biting her lip. She tilted her head to read the name of the strange thing she was looking at.

  “That’s an anal bead with a clitoral stimulator. It’s waterproof. You can use it in the shower or in the tub, with lube.”

  Sophia blushed. “I see.” How does she talk about this so naturally?

  “And this one here is new but it’s already a super seller.” Mary pointed to two linked silver balls connected to a remote control.

  “What is this for?” Sophia raised her brows.

  “Oh. They are very nice. These balls have four pulse-racing vibration speeds. It’s good to warm up on the lowest setting, then ramp up through medium, high, and finish yourself off with the powerful super. And if she likes clitoral stimulation, she can place one of the balls inside her and stimulate the clit with the other.”

  If Mary had looked at Sophia’s furiously blushing face she would have stopped talking. But she carried on animatedly describing the toy. “Or even! These balls can also be used anally for more wicked fun. And the controller can be disconnected and used with other compatible sex toys. What do you think? It’s different. Would your friend like it?”