Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  Sophia tilted her head to the side and bit her lip, unsure.

  “Ah-ah.” He released her hand and cupped her chin, his thumb caressing the lip her teeth just released. “You mustn’t do that. Or I won’t answer for my actions.”

  God! Seriously! “Ethan. Can I be frank?”

  His fingers brushed her neck and he gripped her hand again. “Always.”

  “When you tell me you still have feelings for me, and I keep accepting your invitations to go out, I—I feel like I’m leading you on. Like I’m an easy woman, a slut—”

  His hand flew to her mouth and his eyes darkened. “Don’t ever refer to yourself like that again.” You’re Sophia, not Eve!

  Sophia’s eyes widened at his harsh tone.

  “Understood?” He commanded an answer. He needed an answer. “Understood, Sophia?”

  She nodded and he took his hand away from her mouth. “I don’t want to hear you say those words again.” He flung his napkin on the table, rose, and moved to help her stand. “Come with me. We can continue this upstairs.”

  “Ethan—”

  “I will not take no for an answer,” he murmured, and put a firm hand on her waist, steering her to the lifts.

  An awkward silence descended on them as they climbed to his suite and he paused to open his door.

  Sophia stepped back from the door he held open for her. “Ethan—”

  “Please. I’ll behave.” He stretched out his hand and looked at her with serious eyes. “I give you my word.”

  “Okay, then.” Dammit, Sophia. You should know better. She entered the living room of the suite and her eyes were immediately drawn to the king size bed that had been turned down for the night.

  The door clicked shut behind her and she jumped in fright.

  “Jesus, Sophia! I am not going to attack you.” Ethan walked stiffly to the white linen curtains that separated the bedroom from the living room and closed them. When he turned to look at her, his face was contorted with a painful expression. “Better now?”

  She nodded, tight-lipped. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t feel comfortable in a hotel suite with him, a man she wasn’t dating. Her logic and reason had stayed on the other side of the door.

  She swallowed hard, rooted to the ground, her eyes wide. Fear spurred her heartbeat, a physical response to the man who effortlessly took up every inch of the huge living room, the man whom she realized now, she barely knew anymore. She couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t harm her, as he had once before, or put her life in danger. He was six-foot-three, broad shouldered, fit and well-built. What could she do, if he decided to have her?

  Ethan approached her slowly, gauging her reaction. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

  She tightened her grip on her fragile purse, nodded again and breathed deep, gathering her wits.

  He noticed her rib cage expanding under the black leather dress and her breasts pushing up her cleavage. His hands itched to peel the sexy dress off her. Instead he caught her gently by the waist and pulled her closer, against his chest; an arm snaked around her back and a hand on her head.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured in her hair. “You have nothing to fear from me. I only want what’s best for you.”

  He kept his hips away from her body, concealing his arousal, and there was no sexual innuendo in his embrace. Just tenderness. His hand stroked the length of her loose hair, soothing her fears, and he curled his fingers under her chin, lifting her face, “Do you want to go?”

  “No.” The word was raspy. Sophia cleared her throat. “No. I think that we have to talk, Ethan. Really.”

  Jesus, Sophia! He saw the determination on her face and knew that nothing good was coming from that talk. His arms fell to his side, defeated, and he moved to the Chinese lacquered bar. “Do you want something to drink?”

  She shook her head.

  “An espresso, perhaps?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He prepared two as she walked to the balcony, looking at Ipanema Beach. It had stopped raining. She slid the doors open and sat on the spacious and comfortable reclining chair outside.

  Ethan sat beside her, handing her the cup. They drank in silence and when he finished his coffee, he put his cup on the floor and leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. His baritone voice was very low when he confessed, “I was devastated when we broke up. It was a rough time, Sophia. Then I decided it’d be easier to let it go. But it wasn’t. It isn’t. It’s awful,” he said vehemently. “And when I saw you at the airport, devastated too, I thought I had another chance. But you love him, don’t you?”

  Sophia stood and went to the edge of the balcony, looking at the wonderful view. In one sweeping landscape, she could see all the way from the Dois Irmãos mountains to Arpoador. “You know, Ethan, I miss this city. This beautiful, beautiful city.” She turned to him. “I miss the Carioca happy way of living. My friends. My family. I miss it all. But…it was in this same city that I was robbed of happiness in the most savage way. So, I am not coming back unless for a brief visit, no matter my…saudades. No matter how much I miss it.”

  He had put his chin on the palm of his hand and was drinking in her expressive face.

  “Why am I telling you this? Because, it’s the same with us.” She sat again by his side and put a finger on his lips, when they opened. “Let me finish, please. This,” she motioned from her to him, “us, I mean, has nothing to do with Alistair MacCraig. It belonged to us and it’s going to stay only between us. I like you, Ethan. I do. But as a friend and a business partner. If you can’t understand and respect my decision…I’ll miss you, but this is it. The end.”

  I will never let you go. Never. He closed his eyes so she wouldn’t see the resolve inside them. He said huskily, “You’ve got me, Sophia. The way you wish. Any way.” His hand gripped hers and tightened fractionally. “Can’t you feel that you command my will like I’ve never let anyone else do?”

  Sophia sucked in a breath when he fixed her with his gaze.

  “Sometimes,” he was watching her face with searing intensity, “I feel that I can hardly breathe without you.” His beautiful azure eyes revealed his inner turmoil. He was struggling with his emotions. “Your life is an asset, Sophia,” he whispered. “Be careful that your decisions don’t make you a liability.”

  Are you threatening me? “You said you wanted what is best for me. I want the same. What is best for you. You need to move on. I’m not coming back to you, Ethan.”

  That’s what you think. “I see.” He traced the ring on her finger. “Friends, then?” I’ll indulge you, Sophia. For now.

  “Friends,” she answered, lifting from the reclining chair and taking out her iPhone from her purse to call her driver. “I must go. I have a full day tomorrow.”

  “I’ll walk you downstairs,” he said, picking up the door card from the side table. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his navy trousers to avoid snatching her in a hard kiss. “When are you returning to London?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet. And you?”

  I don’t know. “I’m returning to São Paulo tomorrow morning and I’ll be back in the evening. Do you have plans for the weekend?”

  The elevator doors opened.

  I have but I’m not telling you. “I’ll probably stay with my grandmother. I haven’t seen her since New Year’s.”

  Ethan nodded. He splayed his hand possessively around her hip when he noticed male heads turning to look covetously at her and enviously at him, when they walked past the hotel’s exclusive night club and along the white linen curtained corridor toward the hotel entrance. We make a perfect pair.

  He accompanied her to her black Mercedes 600 Pullman Guard. Zareb was holding the door open for her, scanning the perimeter with hawk eyes.

  Ethan kissed her on the cheek and stayed there watching her pull out, examining his thoughts.

  From their first time together, he’d known Sophia would be his ruination.

 
After all the changes she had evoked in him, he barely recognized himself sometimes.

  To get her back, he would do anything.

  And he was willing to find out how far he would go.

  Chapter 5

  Alistair MacCraig’s Apartment

  Thursday, April 8, 2010

  3:49 a.m.

  Alistair tossed and turned in the bed. His depressed musings had been keeping him awake since Tuesday.

  Aggravated, he switched on the light and flung his body out of bed. He walked to his desk in the living room to search for his phone. He turned it on and scrolled for Sophia’s and Gabriela’s photos.

  A long time passed while he caressed each photo and thought about what he was going to say to her when they finally met again.

  He went back to bed and turned off the lamp on the bedside table. His desolate thoughts got worse in the dark. He exhaled slowly, expelling all the air from his lungs.

  Half an hour later, he rose again and walked back to the living room. This time he turned on the TV and started to flip through the channels for something interesting to see. He had to find a diversion.

  How is it possible to feel sickness from someone’s absence? He needed her gentle touch, drawing random designs on his chest as she fell asleep. Her soft lips kissing him good night and then good morning. He needed her.

  He grabbed his cell phone again and started to text.

  Alistair. 4:29 a.m. - Sophia, love. We have to talk. I can explain the things you found in my dressing room. Davidoff showed me what you researched on your computer. I’m not like that, I’m not that extreme. And I don’t need it, I need you. Please, call me.

  Alistair. 4:35 a.m. - You’re breaking my heart, Sophia. You promised to take good care of it, remember? Don’t do this to me, please.

  Alistair. 4:41 a.m. - I can’t live without you, mo chridhe. Please, call me. I love you.

  He grimaced as two green ticks notified him that each and every one of his WhatsApp messages had been delivered and read, but no response came.

  He went to bed, taking the phone with him.

  I love you, Sophia. It was Alistair’s last thought before he finally closed his eyes for sleep.

  Dr. Andrew Volk’s Office

  9:41 a.m.

  “To feel lonely is to be overwhelmed by an unbearable feeling of separateness, at a very deep level. To some degree, it is a totally normal emotion, a part of growing up. Your loneliness, which has been caused by extraordinary circumstances, is somehow all your own fault. First your loss, then your lack of trust, your fear of entering another relationship and your numbness are the main causes of your feeling lonely.” Dr. Volk patiently waited for Alistair to reply.

  “You’re right. I didn’t want to be tied down. I didn’t want anyone in my life again. I was more than lonely. And that’s the way I wished it to be. That’s what I deserved,” Alistair sighed. “Maybe it’s a cliché, but I felt lonely even in a crowd.”

  “A cliché maybe, but it’s also painfully true. Someone who is constantly surrounded by people may still feel desperately lonely. I have many patients that seek my help for overwhelming feelings of loneliness and they have an active social life, a busy job, sometimes even a stable relationship and a family.”

  “But then she appeared. As sunshine does after a storm.” Alistair’s eyes glazed with memories. “And suddenly my life wasn’t the same anymore. I tried to drag her into my long line of one-night stands. She resisted. I tried to push her away with—” He looked up at Doctor Volk and said bitterly, “I engaged her in bondage-dominant sex. Then, the next day, I assaulted her. She forgave me. She. Forgave. Me,” he repeated softly to himself looking down at his hands.

  “Hmm. And that is wrong? Forgiveness?”

  Alistair looked up and cleared his throat. “I don’t know. She persisted in the relationship. Finally, a few days ago, I tried to beat her with a crop.”

  “And?”

  Alistair told Dr. Volk how Sophia had been very determined to maintain her position and what she did to him after; how he had lost control, and for the first time since Nathalie’s death, had let a woman take charge in bed and how much he’d liked it. He told him how much he was hurting without Sophia.

  “I’m glad.”

  Alistair gave him a suffered look. “What for?”

  “Because it shows that you are human. For once, you had a relationship that wasn’t ruled by you or your cold logic. And maybe Sophia brought it out in you. Maybe she makes you care enough to let go of Heather and your feelings of guilt. Also, I can fully understand why she left.”

  Alistair raised an eyebrow.

  Dr. Volk measured him with his eyes and his lips curled. “You’re not a small man. If I were a woman, I’d be scared. I wouldn’t like to be tied, handcuffed, or spanked by a man like you. She’s probably run to the end of the world.”

  Run to the end of the world. Hah! Alistair willed the irritation from his face. “And what do you think I should do when I find her? I can’t live without her. And there is no doubt I’m going after her.” He stopped for a heartbeat before asking, “What should I say? What should I do?”

  “Be human.” The good doctor smiled at Alistair’s frown. “Be yourself. Don’t be afraid to feel. Tell her the whole truth. That is what you want from her too, isn’t it? The truth?”

  Veritas vos liberabit. Alistair laughed bitterly. “Well, Andrew, it seems it’s easier said than done.”

  The doctor laughed. “Yep. But it frees.”

  Alistair spoke of how he had imagined leading Sophia into a similar relationship as the one he had with Heather, but now on his terms; how each time he started trying to turn her on, he was the one turned on by something sexually naïve and common that she did; that each climax with her was better than the one before; that he was tuned to her and deep in love. And that he was sure Sophia was in love with him too, albeit he couldn’t understand why she didn’t declare her love out loud.

  Finally, Alistair told Dr. Volk he was ready to be what Sophia wanted him to be.

  The doctor slowly put his pencil inside his notebook, closed it and put it away on the side table. He turned to Alistair and staring into his eyes, he softly said, “Alistair, tell her all that you’ve been telling me here. The truth. The whole truth. Don’t embellish it; don’t omit or lie. And…and what is even more important. You have to start listening. Listen to what she has to tell you and listen to her silence.”

  Alistair raised an eyebrow.

  “Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words. Just because it is peaceful, it doesn’t mean it is still and void, as a few may think. It is insightful, powerful and full of meaning. It is when one can’t lie to oneself. You have to learn to listen to what she is not saying. Listen to her silence. And listen to yours, too.”

  In Alistair MacCraig’s BMW

  10:01 a.m.

  Being away from her had only made Alistair crave Sophia all the more. He missed the scent of her hair, the feel of her satin skin under his fingertips, the way she called his name in a low cry just before she came, the sensation of her moving underneath him, with him.

  He needed to hear her voice, her laughter. He needed her back, by his side, in his bed.

  He needed to know that she still wanted him. He needed to be inside her.

  He needed to make love to her like he needed air to breathe.

  He needed her.

  Sex was his apple a day, and he needed it. He needed to show her not with words but with actions that he loved her, worshipped her, would do anything for her. That was the way he knew how to express his feelings.

  But she didn’t seem to need him.

  She had left him and she hadn’t answered any of his messages or calls.

  I’m going mad, I’m sure. He picked up his iPhone and called Baptist. “Any news?” He tried to keep the strain out of his voice, but failed miserably.

  “Mr. MacCraig, I was just about to call you. She’s just taken a flight to the end of the world
,” he said, laughing.

  What the fuck? Another one making fun of my desperate situation. Alistair frowned. “Huh? I don’t pay you to be funny, I pay you for information, Baptist.” Alistair heard the investigator’s reply, his spirit returned. He touched the intercom. “Change of plans, Garrick. My place, please.”

  “Thank you, Baptist. Send all the information you’ve gathered by email asap,” he said and tapped the screen, answering Tavish’s call. “Aye?”

  “Where are you?” Tavish asked brusquely.

  “Going home. I discovered where Sophia is.”

  “I’ll meet you there.” Tavish disconnected.

  Alistair shrugged at the screen and immediately called MacKeenan with a long list of orders.

  Alistair MacCraig’s Apartment

  10:55 a.m.

  His doorbell rang insistently. Alistair opened his apartment door to look at his brother’s turbulent sea-green eyes.

  Tavish stalked into his brother’s living room without saying a word, determination stamped on his face, and flung himself in the armchair.

  He leered at his brother and said, “You look like crap, Alistair Connor.”

  Alistair sighed. Two full days of no information had done nothing but make him more miserable. He knew there were huge shadows under his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping well. He hadn’t been sleeping at all. Now, if he wasn’t mistaken, Tavish was there to lecture him about Sophia.

  “Thank you, Tavish Uilleam, and good morning to you too. Is there something else you wanted to say, other than to give me an update on my looks?”

  “You did it again, didn’t you?”

  Tavish’s turbulent personality was diametrically opposed to his own. Alistair could see he was angry and that he was spoiling for a fight. If Alistair didn’t control himself, they would be at each other’s throats in a few minutes.

  “I beg your pardon?” What did I do now?

  “I was in your office when Baptist’s email came through. It flashed on your computer screen.” Tavish’s lips curled up. “You should be more careful.”