Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  “Hey!” Sophia exclaimed, carefully pushing herself up on her elbows, just to be held back by Ethan’s hand on her shoulder.

  “No.” If something happens to you, I will blame myself for the rest of my life. Well, my short life, before MacCraig kills me. He almost laughed at the thought, but he was too worried by her paleness. “You haven’t looked at your face, or you wouldn’t be complaining. You’re pale as death.”

  Okay, I concede: I’m tired. With a bit more pressure from Ethan’s hand, she fell back, sighing. “All right. You’ve won. I’m going to rest.”

  Atwood House

  Wednesday, March 9, 2011

  6:21 a.m.

  Sophia woke up to the feeling of Alistair pulling her onto his body and nuzzling his nose on her nape.

  She wanted to rub herself against him, but she was sleepy and feeling strangely tired. I’ve overdone it. Again.

  “Good morning, mo chridhe.”

  With another pull and rocking of her body, Sophia’s stomach lurched and she jumped away from him and out of bed, with a gasp.

  She didn’t hear him calling her over the strange buzzing in her ears. Her hand flew to her mouth and she ran for the bathroom. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and heaved, vomiting.

  Alistair followed her, helpless as he watched her gripping the toilet with so much force her knuckles were white.

  His fingers held her long hair back, and his hand flattened against her stomach to give her comfort, knowing Sophia would push him away. She was shy and embarrassed about being sick.

  I shouldn’t have indulged so much in their delicious spicy food. Between dry heaves and more vomit, she panted, “Go away.”

  What do you take me for? Alistair didn’t even answer. He didn’t care if she was ashamed of throwing up in front of him. He wouldn’t leave her alone. Worry creased his forehead.

  Ashley had told him Sophia had worked herself to the point of exhaustion and that only Ethan’s firmness had stopped it, having even decided to send her back with Ashley on Tuesday morning, worried about her tiredness. Sophia had protested, but not as much as they expected her to.

  But no one had told Alistair she had been feeling sick.

  She got all her shots months before going on the trip, so nothing came to Alistair’s mind but food poisoning. After dry heaving again, she just spat in the toilet, flushed it, and cleaned her mouth with toilet paper.

  “Go away,” she repeated, elbowing his stomach feebly. I feel terrible.

  Never, my love. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes,” she nodded but the dizziness started again. Sophia was feeling so weird that she wanted to stay in a dark, cool room. “I promise, I’m okay.” This is not a place for a newly wed husband.

  Stubborn, aren’t you, Wife? Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward and pulled her gently onto his chest.

  He asked firmly, showing he was not going to leave her side, “Sophia, did you eat something different? Too spicy? Do you have a migraine? What is it that you’re feeling?”

  Oh, screw it. She leaned against him, giving up her dislike of being seen sick. “Don’t fret,” she whispered, not strong enough to do more than this. “I’ll be okay. Just don’t move for a minute. Everything is spinning.”

  Battersea, Barclays London Heliport

  7:55 a.m.

  “Are you sure, Sophia?” Alistair asked for the umpteenth time before he opened the helicopter’s door for her.

  “Yes, Lord Overly-concerned. I don’t know what happened earlier but I’m feeling perfectly well. Besides, Munro and Zareb will take good care of me.” She smiled tenderly at him. “Come on, Handsome, I’m already late.”

  Sophia was not pale anymore. After cleaning herself and taking a cold shower, she looked absolutely fresh, dressed in a light pink Chanel suit with beige Miu Miu accessories.

  He helped her in and harnessed her to the seat. “Promise to call me if you feel anything.”

  She raised two fingers and put a hand over her heart. “I promise.”

  “Well, then.” He kissed her on the lips. “We’ll have lunch together.”

  Sophia smiled, waved, and blew him a kiss when he backed up without taking his eyes off her.

  Alistair didn’t know why he was so worried. He watched the perfect take-off of the helicopter and went back to his BMW, thoughtful. She does look great. There is no reason to be concerned.

  He thanked Garrick, entered the car with his customary poker-face in place, and started to check his emails and messages as he was driven to the bank headquarters.

  The morning passed as if nothing had occurred, but deep inside, Alistair knew there was something wrong with his adored wife.

  Dubai, In a dimly lit room

  Thursday, March 10, 2011

  1:39 a.m.

  “How could you do that?” Ghost asked icily on the phone. “I’ll pay you more. I need that device functioning.”

  Devon swallowed hard with guilt.

  Sophia had done nothing to him and Alistair had been more than understanding when he had told his story and asked for a loan. He received an amount greater than he expected and a lifetime pension for his ex-lover. It was then that he realized how wrong he had been acting.

  “I’m out. This has gone too far. Don’t call me anymore or I’ll go to the police.”

  Ghost was used to working mostly alone, or exchanging information online with his Black-Hat hacker colleagues. He thought this plan would work the same way.

  No one had taught him to be overly cautious when dealing with human beings. He was a cold person and didn’t care at all for other’s feelings; he thought others would behave accordingly.

  Pushing down his disappointment and anger, he laughed. Devon had done a very bad thing by betraying him and now he was going to pay for it. “How is your handicapped son?”

  The eerie laughter made cold goosebumps rise on the back of Devon’s neck and he franticly ended the call.

  The line clicked dead and Ghost’s rage spiked, but it was in a calm voice that he announced to no one, “You’re a dead fool.”

  He picked up a transparent globe that contained a hooded skull with two entwined snakes looking at him. It irked him that a man of his intellect had to depend so much on others for this project.

  He didn’t want to be near London when the plan was put in motion, but as the snakes’ tongues seemed to flicker, he decided he should take matters into his own hands.

  He bought a ticket back to London.

  Leibowitz Oil Building

  Friday, March 11, 2011

  12:25 p.m.

  Edward pushed the button on the intercom, calling Sophia. He drummed his fingers, waiting for her to reply.

  “Yes?” came the soft answer.

  “Love? I need a few minutes of your time,” he said, excited, as his eyes scanned the last lines of the contract which needed her approval.

  “Come on in,” she answered. “It’s unlocked.”

  Edward pushed the door open and grinned when he realized Sophia was listening to Linkin’ Park. She had been transfixed by the group’s new song and had kept the album on repeat.

  But Sophia was not seated behind her computer or anywhere else. His smile vanished from his face and he frowned. “Sophia?”

  “Just a second, Edward.”

  Sophia exited the bathroom and ungainly held on to the door frame to steady herself, but it slipped from her grasp.

  “Sarah! SARAH!” Edward shouted at the top of his voice, lunging forward.

  White as a sheet, Sophia collapsed into his arms.

  Alistair hadn’t even waited for his car. Ordering MacKeenan to send Garrick to meet him there, he had run the few blocks that separated the bank headquarters from the Leibowitz Oil Building.

  Sophia was already awake, but feeling dizzy and so weak she had not even protested when they placed her on the ambulance gurney.

  The wide hall of the Leibowitz Oil building seemed to expand and shimmer around her as
they pushed her out of the elevator.

  For once she asked herself why she needed such a tall and long hall. Her hand clenched around Alistair’s. She wanted him to take her away, not inside an ambulance. She didn’t want to know what was plaguing her.

  Marylebone, Devonshire Street

  The Harley Street Clinic of Diagnosis Centre

  1:37 p.m.

  Alistair raked a hand through his long hair, pacing the corridor of the clinic in long strides, making eye contact with no one, not even with Edward, who had refused to leave before knowing the results of the exams.

  The minutes were dragging by as he waited anxiously for her doctors or a nurse to come out with some news. The only thing her neurologist and her psychiatrist had said was that they needed two or three hours to examine her.

  Fuck them all. Two or three hours! Alistair huffed, as he leaned against the wall for a minute, scanning his cell phone, thinking hard about what else he could do.

  He had already called her therapist, Tavish, and John. Their good friend said he would come by as soon as he could, and his brother was on his way. The therapist had yet to call back.

  Sophia was afraid, he knew. Her eyes were dark and her cold hand kept squeezing his.

  It took all of Alistair’s control to kiss her lightly on the lips and let her hand go with an encouraging smile on his face as the nurses pushed her away through the sterile corridors. All he had wanted was to pick her up in his arms and take her away to their highland home.

  I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know. Alistair only answered a few of his brother’s many questions. He sat heavily on a chair and said, “Nae, you have to ask Davidoff again. This is all I know.”

  “He’s told me everything he knows too.”

  “What is your opinion then?” Alistair looked up at his brother. Tavish had a weird look on his face. What? “You know something I don’t?”

  “Nae. Anyway—”

  The door opened and Alistair jumped up when he saw Dr. Colton signaling him to enter. He pulled the lapel of his brother’s suit and ordered, “Come with me.”

  Following a frantic Alistair, Tavish mumbled, “Aye, sir.”

  3:34 p.m.

  Sophia was lying on the hospital bed, looking less pale, connected to an IV and two machines, which were driving her crazy with their beeping.

  After so many tests and blood draws, waiting for someone to say something to her, she thought she was going to snap if another nurse entered the room to ask her more questions.

  But the door opened to reveal Dr. Colton, her psychiatrist, and Dr. Merkel, her neurologist, coming in, followed by Alistair and Tavish. The fact that the doctors had brought not only her husband, but Tavish out of the waiting room couldn’t mean good news. She felt dread like a brick in her empty stomach.

  Alistair immediately sat by her on the chair, grabbing her hand in his and warming it. Tavish, on the other side, kissed her forehead and said sweetly, “Hey, Sister-in-law. How are you feeling?”

  “I guess I’ve been better,” she replied. She looked at her doctors and asked in a whisper, “So…what’s wrong with me?”

  “We don’t have any conclusive results, Sophia,” explained Dr. Merkel, “so we are going to need more exams.”

  “So far,” Dr. Colton explained, “it’s just your blood pressure giving you a hard time.”

  “Just?!” The word left her mouth with a hint of hysteria.

  “Aye,” Alistair was calm again. “Just that. It’s easily controlled—”

  A knock on the door interrupted them and John walked in. Sophia almost sighed in relief. She had complete confidence in him.

  But when he spoke with her doctors in a hushed voice and proposed more tests, she let out a long, audible breath of impatience.

  4:27 p.m.

  A grave John pushed on the door with an envelope in his hands, a troubled mind, and a heavy heart. He didn’t know how he would give the news to the couple. He felt the burden of their eyes on him when he stopped in front of the bed. Knowing he had no choice, he said, “Alistair, Tavish, Mr. Davidoff, may I have a word alone with Sophia?”

  Her heartbeat sped up. “Is there something wrong?”

  “Sophia.” Alistair’s deep, low murmur was soothing, and she gratefully accepted the comfort of his arm around her shoulders as he perched on the edge of the bed. Whatever it is, I’m here.

  Edward immediately rose from his chair.

  Tavish frowned, concerned, and followed him. At the door, he said, “Come on, Alistair Connor. John has something important to tell her.”

  Sophia went dead cold as she felt Alistair shifting to get off of the bed. She closed her fingers around his wrist with such despair her nails dug in. “No. Wait! Stay with me.”

  Alistair instantly sat back down and gently pulled her onto his chest. “What did you find out, John?”

  The doctor thinned his lips, looking from Sophia to Alistair. Sternly, he demanded, “Alistair, could you please step out for just a second? This information is pertinent only to Sophia.”

  Sophia searched for inner courage, and stated, “Whatever it is, John, you can tell us both.”

  “So be it.” John scratched his head. He wished Sophia had let Alistair go outside. “While not impossible, as I have tried to inform you from the very beginning—it was a likely event I would have predicted.” He stopped and faced them seriously. “I need both of you to be calm and listen to my explanation. All right?”

  “Yes, okay.” Wrapped tightly in Alistair’s arms, she watched as John pulled out a sheet from an envelope.

  “Well, to start with, I guess congratulations are in order, Sophia. You’re pregnant.”

  Chapter 22

  4:33 p.m.

  “What?!” Alistair stood up from the bed as if Sophia had burned him. “What the fuck, Sophia? What. The. Fuck!”

  He looked for what seemed an eternity at his dumbfounded and speechless wife waiting for an explanation. But as she said nothing, he whirled on his heels and left the room exactly when John had just started to talk, the buzzing in his ears such that he didn’t hear a word.

  Banging closed the hospital room door, leaving the doctor to deal with Sophia, he tore down the corridor like a mad man. Alistair didn’t even notice his brother coming after him.

  “Hey, hey. Where are you going? What’s wrong?”

  He stopped as his brother’s big hand grabbed his arm. He looked at the younger, taller, and more handsome version of himself and almost snarled.

  I can’t assign blame yet. To her. Or to…myself?! Alistair choked on his breath. Then he realized Tavish and Edward, along with both of her doctors, where waiting for the news.

  All he wanted to do was go back and believe it was a mistake, however, hope was an emotion he had trouble dealing with. It had always been accompanied by a great deception and a greater pain, which had lingered from one freshly inflicted wound to the next, dragging out his anger in ways he couldn’t contain.

  But now, it was different.

  His wounds had been cauterized and he didn’t want to allow the fierce ache, his jumbled thoughts, and increasing doubt to open them again. He was disoriented, lost in the labyrinth of his own mixed emotions, and he didn’t know anymore what to do.

  Edward, regardless of their height and width difference, cornered him, demanding, “What’s happening, MacCraig? What did you do to her?”

  “It’s not up for discussion.” He towered over Sophia’s blond friend who didn’t back away. “It’s a complicated story.”

  “Always is, with you,” Tavish remarked.

  Alistair shot his brother an annoyed look, but Tavish completely ignored it.

  Turning to Sophia’s neurologist, Alistair asked if there was an empty room where he could talk with his brother privately for a few minutes.

  Tavish leaned against the door of Dr. Merkel’s office and watched as Alistair paced away, then back again, not trusting himself to stand still, his fisted hands locked against his sides to
avoid punching them against the wall.

  Why can’t I control my emotions when I’m around her? Why is everything getting worse instead of better? She is pregnant. Pregnant. I told her it didn’t matter if the sperm didn’t come from my body. I was prepared to see her pregnant with another man’s sperm. I should be happy. Thrilled. Instead, I’m feeling confused, miserable, and in pain. Did she betray me? Did she do it without informing me? Why? When? With whom? Closing his eyes, he bent and rested his hands on his knees, and breathed deep, struggling to find control.

  His gentle witch brought out the deepest emotions in him, from the most intense passion and excruciating pain to the most tender feelings of protection and fierce love. And in her, he had found his peace. He could not lose her.

  Fucking hell! He gave up any control and sat on the chair. Putting his face in his hands, Alistair started crying like a hurt child.

  That alarmed Tavish, who sat by him with a soothing hand on his shoulder. “Alistair Connor, is there something wrong with the baby? If it is endangering Sophia’s health, abortion is always a solution. I’ve seen the tests so far and there is nothing wrong with her.”

  Amid tears, Alistair asked, “How the fuck do you know something I just heard about?” What else does he know that I don’t?

  “I know your high sex drive. Sophia has been showing typical signs of the first trimester. Why her doctors didn’t ask for a pregnancy test from the start, baffles me.”

  Alistair wanted to laugh out loud derisively, but only a shuddered breath left his body. He knew he shouldn’t have left the room without listening to the whole explanation.

  “You dinna want a child?! Is it too soon?” Tavish was not understanding what the problem was. “Sorry to say, you should expect a pregnancy when sex is involved. There is no hundred percent safe prevention. Listen Alistair Connor, life has a complex plan that we don’t understand sometimes. While we dream, work, and organize, it makes its own tweaks. Many times circumstances might no’ turn out as we hoped. Stop fighting against your greatest ally.”