Trust (28 page)

“Davidoff is the best. And Leonard… He is such a good friend and a gentleman.”

“Aye, but both are ruthless and powerful when needed.”

She bit her lip, thinking about what he said.

He didn’t resist and dropped his head to kiss her mouth, taking her full bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling it. When he lifted his head, he whispered on her lips, “Don’t bite your lip. If you feel the need, I’ll do it for you.”

She giggled, breathlessly, “You are funny. No one has ever offered to bite my lip for me before.”

“Well, no one’s ever called me funny before. Anyway,” he smiled sensuously, “I’ll gladly do it for you. That and much more.”

Sophia felt a rush of hot desire run through her spine, leaving her light-headed. “Oh, will you?”

He tugged her hair back lightly, “Much, much more, Sophia.”

Timely for Sophia, the waiter approached their table, bringing the menus and the prawns. “Would you like to order, Mr. MacCraig?”

Alistair accepted the menus but put them down on the table. “Give us a few minutes.”

“Of course, sir.” He put the plate of crispy prawns in the middle of the table, between them. “Enjoy,” he dipped his head and walked away.

Sophia looked at her watch, “I think we should order. It’s almost ten o’clock.”

What? No woman ever looks at her watch while with me. Am I losing my touch?
“Am I boring you, Sophia?”

“Boring?” she blinked, astonished by his question. “No. It’s just that I wake up very early on Wednesdays. I give a class at eight o’clock. In Cambridge. And I work out for half an hour before I leave home at six thirty.”

Fuck. Wrong day to ask her out
. “We should order indeed.” He handed her a menu and opened his.

She bit into a prawn and moaned, “Mmm, divine.”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. The woman moans over everything
. He scanned the menu quickly and snapped it shut, irritated.

She looked at him, “Have you decided?”

“Aye, I know this menu back to front,” he signaled for the waiter. “Have you decided?”

Unsure, she bit her lip, unconsciously, and he tsked twice. She looked up from the menu and he sunk his teeth in his bottom lip, mimicking her actions.

Sophia melted at the sight of his white, even teeth biting his dark pink lip and she lost her train of thought. “Hmm, what?”

His face split with a Cheshire cat smile, “Your main course, Sophia?”

“Ah, yes. How’s the monkfish?”

His beautiful eyes lit on hers. “It’s succulent, tender,” he said softly and licked his lips. “With a slightly sweet flavor.”
As you must have. I’ll taste you, Sophia. Soon. Have no doubt about it
.

Ah…
She blinked and focused her eyes back on the menu, “So, I’ll have the smaller portion. With the herb butter sauce.”

Alistair turned to the waiter and ordered, “For me, the whole sea bream with beurre noisette and Jersey Royal new potatoes. For the lady, the monkfish with herb butter sauce, and…” he looked at Sophia.

“Leaf salad, please.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As the waiter left, Alistair again turned to Sophia, this time shifting on the sofa, his knee touching her thigh. She scooted away. He smiled at the prudish movement, but it didn’t stop his hand snaking around her waist and pulling her closer.

“What are you afraid of?” he breathed, trying to figure her out.

“Nothing. I’m not afraid. But it’s only been a few days since I ended a relationship. You can’t expect me to jump into another just like that,” she snapped her fingers. “I’m not a frivolous woman that changes partners without a second thought, just based on lust.”

Ah, Sophia, I understand your game, now. You’re horny but you’re playing hard to get. Let’s see how long you’re going to resist me
. “Don’t put off till tomorrow what you can do today. Tomorrow may be good, but tonight is better, Sophia.”

She smiled, amused, “I don’t think the saying applies to this situation, Alistair.”

“Seems that I’ll have to work hard to convince you,” he said.

“I like hard work,” she whispered with a wink.

11.35 p.m.

Sophia shuddered when she stepped out of the restaurant, “It’s cold.”

“Of course, it’s cold. It’s snowing and you haven’t put on your coat properly.” Alistair took the coat from her shoulders and made Sophia dress it, gathering her into his chest, his hands rubbing her back. “You have a problem with coats, don’t you?”

She looked up to gaze at his face, smiling. “It’s just a few seconds until your driver arrives and, besides, I love the cold,” she breathed the freezing air deeply and closed her eyes. “I love this icy air.”

When she opened her eyes again, he smiled down at her. “How can a Carioca love the cold?”

“I hate the weather in Rio. I hate the hot air, the humidity. Leibowitz Oil has a branch in Manaus. It’s the worst climate in the world. When I went there last year, I took three showers a day and felt sticky as soon as I got out. My wish was to stay in the water the whole time. Oh, it’s beautiful, unbelievably beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but in August, when the summer is in full swing there, as it’s close to the equatorial line, you feel like you’re burning in hell.”

“I don’t know Manaus or Rio. But I know you have longer summers,” he countered, “and beautiful beaches.”

She shrugged, “I don’t care very much about them. In fact, I didn’t usually go to the beach and I hate sand. I’m not a typical Carioca. But I love to scuba dive. It’s so peaceful. Just me and the fish. No sound to disturb me,” she rubbed her icy nose on his warm chest and he tightened his arms around her.

He looked away from her face and noticed his BMW drawing up to the curb, “Come, Garrick has arrived.”

She entered the car and rubbed her hands to warm them up. Alistair gave directions to Garrick and immediately took her hands in his, blew warm breath, and caressed them. He raised his eyes to hers, “You’re so soft, Sophia. Your skin fells like silk.”

Sophia’s breath hitched and she licked her lips, unsure of what to say, but Alistair wasn’t expecting a reply. He shifted on the seat facing her and fast as lightning hauled her onto his lap and dropped his head to kiss her.

She put her hand over his mouth, stopping him.

“Sophia, Sophia,” he murmured in her fingers, “you drive me crazy. Why do you resist me so much?”

“I’ve already explained, Alistair,” she whispered.

“You still have doubts? You melt in my arms, Sophia, and,” he picked her hand and put it over his erection, pressing it down, “I get harder and harder when you’re around. Just your smell makes me horny. Sleep with me tonight.”

She pulled her hand away as if seared by his arousal. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to work tomorrow morning and…” she shook her head, “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

He sighed, “I see.”
Okay, Sophia, let’s play your game for now. For now
.

London, near Leicester Square.

Thursday, February 25
^th
, 2010.

6.19 p.m.

“Why did it have to rain tonight?” Sophia murmured, looking out the window. “God is very angry with someone.”

“It seems so.” Alistair glanced at her and chuckled, “You’re going to get those strange black shoes wet.”

“And you think this is funny?” she huffed. “I looked
everywhere
for these magnificent Philip Treacy sandals.”

“I don’t understand women,” he shook his head at her. “And this wispy thing you’re wearing can’t be warm enough.” His warm hand ran over the sheer, embroidered sleeve of her black-and-orange gown and frowned, “You’re cold.”

“More respect, Alistair Connor,” she scowled at him. “First of all, this,” she lifted one of the organza layers of her dress as he wrapped her with the pale orange shahtoosh on her lap, “is not a wispy thing. It’s a Lino Villaventura. No one is more heavenly inspired-” She halted as she glanced at his face.

He’d thinned his lips struggling to hold back his laughter, but he let out a chortle anyhow.

“What?” She looked at him, melting for the nth time that night at the sight of Alistair wearing a perfectly tailored black wool dinner suit and black trousers, slightly tapered. His white, crisp shirt adorned with exquisite emerald cufflinks and a plain black silk tie.

“Lino who?”

“Lino Villaventura. He is the best couturier in Brazil. Daring, absolutely inspiring. I’m crazy about him. And his clothes are unique and all handmade. The embroidery alone is so detailed and lovely.”

“Well, it’s certainly stunning. You are going to overshadow all the Hollywood stars.”

“And, as I was saying, well-bred women are never hot or cold. Our goal is to be beautiful. We don’t feel these mundane-”

His deep, masculine laughter filled the car. He looked at her, tried to speak but just put a hand on his flat abdomen, and laughed. He shook his head and struggled to compose himself, made a strange, strangled sound and burst into laughter again.

The more Alistair looked at Sophia’s astonished face, the more he felt like laughing.
When did I laugh like this recently?
The thought sobered him and he brushed his fingers over his eyes to dry the tears of laughter that had gathered there.

She watched him, completely enchanted and surprised, and she realized that he looked younger and less stern. Even though she had heard him laughing before, this was completely different. A light and special moment, he had unlocked the door to her heart. A door she thought would never open again.

Her thumb touched the corner of his mouth. “I love your laughter. It makes me want to laugh with you,” she whispered.

He smiled at her and turned his head to press a kiss on her palm. “Oh, Sophia. You’re too good to be true. Never cold? Never hot?” He chuckled, “No sweat either?” He exploded in another fit of laughter.

He was still chuckling when Garrick stopped next to the long green carpet leading into the Odeon cinema and a valet opened the door for them.

Sophia looked out and smiled at Alistair, “The rain has stopped.”

Odeon Cinema.

“Sophia!”

Sophia looked around for the voice that has just called her name.
Oh. Not tonight
.

“Ashford. How are you?” Alistair placed his arm around Sophia’s shoulders, trying to keep her out of his reach and held out his hand to shake Ethan’s.

“Fine, thank you. And you?” Ethan shook the outstretched hand and turned to Sophia, holding both her hands in his, kissing her cheeks. “You look beautiful, Sophia, darling. As always.”
Hot, Sophia. You look hot in that barely there dress
.

Sophia gazed into his beautiful azure eyes and smiled. “Hello, Ethan. You’re looking good, too.”
Now, go away
.

“You made a donation to Prince Charles’s Foundation?”

“No,” she said at the same time that Alistair spoke, “I did. Prince Charles is my father’s friend. And, of course, my bank contributes to many foundations.”

“Of course. Don’t we all, MacCraig?” Ethan smiled at Alistair, friendly.
Take your hands off her
.

Fuck off. Tonight she’s mine
. “We should.”

Sophia watched the silent bantering between the men and smiled inside. She felt like a teenager again.

“I arrived yesterday from India. I opened another branch of Ashford Steel there. That country is really amazing, Sophia. You should go. I was reminded of you all the time. There are spectacular saris.”
And the Taj Mahal. The most beautiful testament to love. If I could, I would build one for you
.

“Yes, there are.” She smiled candidly at him, “I have a long love story with India and its saris. And Felipe - my brother, remember? He brought me a suitcase full of them when he went there last year.”

“Oh. You’ve been there.”

“Yes. Three times. I love India.”

Alistair seethed.
Sophia has simply… forgotten me
. He lightly squeezed her shoulder.

She looked at him with a bright smile on her face, “Have you ever been, Alistair?”

“No,” he bit out.

“Are you going to the after-party at the Sanderson Hotel, Sophia?”

“No,
we
are not, Ashford,” Alistair growled. “If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to introduce Sophia to some of my friends.”

“A pity. Well, it’s been a pleasure seeing you again, MacCraig.”
Not you, you bastard. Just Sophia
. Ethan turned to Sophia and gave her a broad smile, “Sophia, darling, you are the most beautiful woman here. You should have been given the leading role in the film.”
You’re my leading lady
.

Sophia laughed. “Ethan, Alice is blonde.”

“Not Alice, my darling. You, you should have been the Queen of Hearts.”
As you are the queen of my heart
.

Alistair turned, leading her away, not giving her a chance to kiss Ethan good-bye. She waved as she tried to keep up with Alistair’s long strides.

“Hey. Slow down,” she demanded.

He stopped for a second to keep his emotions under control. He gazed at her beautiful and gullible face.
Control yourself, Alistair Connor
. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Come. One of my best friends is just over there in the corner.”

They did some mingling and chatting with some of Alistair’s friends until Prince Charles and Camilla arrived.

Alistair glanced at Sophia. “Do you want me to introduce you to them?”

She shook her head and stared at the royal couple, musing, “I wish I could have met Princess Diana. His Royal Highness and the Duchess of Cornwall did only one good thing in their whole lives.”

As she didn’t elaborate, he asked, intrigued, “What was that?”

“They killed any possibility of fairy tales. They showed us what real life is.” She looked deep into his eyes and faked a toast, “Prince Charming is dead. Long live the ogre.”

He chuckled.

“And, please, this is a real ogre, not the dear Shrek.” Then her eyes lit and she giggled, bit her lip to contain the mirth, and whispered, “Have you ever wanted to be a woman’s tampon?”

He exploded in a full laugh, doubling over. He shook his head at her, his black hair swinging around his face and his forest-green eyes sparkling, “No, never,” he said between whoops of amusement. He breathed deeply, struggling to regain his composure. “That was gross,” he sniggered.