Pandora's Box (21 page)

Alistair relaxed on the sofa and closed his eyes. The nausea came back full force. He snapped his eyes open. “Sure. And I’m quite certain I was disgusted with her. Nauseated.”

“With
her
?”

Of course.
“Aye. With her. With the whole fucked up situation she proposed.”

“I guess it was more of a jumbled situation.
You
went to her apartment. She was in the middle of a scene, probably already aroused.
You
ordered her sub. Everything contributed to escalate the situation. And no, your real disgust was not directed at her.”

Alistair’s eyebrows rose. “How come?”

“It was a moral judgment about
your
own arousal pattern. It’s not really known what sets these patterns, but, in general, people evolve fetishes out of some experience early in life, often unknown to them. The reality is that by the time you are an adult, those things are set. If you hadn’t been exposed to those types of experiences, as you have, you may have never realized it was part of your arousal pattern. You have to start hearing yourself. You stated that you’re now disgusted by what excited you. You couldn’t
not
be excited by what got you aroused and your only option is to stop thinking about it and reinforcing the reward.”

“Stop. Hold on a minute,” Alistair said. “Are you saying that it still excites me? So why didn’t I feel aroused by Emma’s behavior?”

“Because your arousal pattern was not inherently
wrong,
but now you were talking about nonconsensual activities. You were not willing to give her the pain she was willing to receive. From my clinical standpoint, if it had been consensual there would be nothing wrong with it. However, you’ve decided these patterns go against your values and beliefs and it has become important to you not to pursue them with Sophia. We’ve talked about that before. You get aroused by non-sadomasochistic acts, and you’re okay with dealing with the loss of the violent S&M aspect of your sexual life. Remember?”

“Aye,” he breathed. “I could have chosen not to pursue Sophia once she stated she won’t abide it.”

“Right. As you know, there are many people who embrace sadomasochism because they think it’s exciting, but you had your choice. You’ve pushed it out of your life.”

“But, hold on a minute again. I’m getting confused. I enjoy role-playing, fantasies and using toys with Sophia.”
I get aroused just thinking about it.

A small smile played on Dr. Volk’s lips. “Alistair, just because someone enjoys role-playing, light bondage or sex toys does not necessarily mean that they have psychological issues or require therapy.”

Alistair laughed self-deprecatingly. “I guess not.” 

“So, what you have with Sophia is different from what you had with Emma or Heather. It’s not abuse. In my opinion, without being schooled in this
sexual art
, Sophia knows better how to deal with her and your desires because she doesn’t abide the abuse that sometimes involves these relationships. Stop thinking about engaging in violent sex again, even if it’s in rage. You know how these things escalate. So, for our purposes, we will focus on the distress and harm they caused to you. Which is clearly your case. Yours was an abusive relationship where you were severely damaged. I want you to stay away from violence in sex. All fantasies, positions, and masturbation are allowed, but I want you to refrain from S&M. Stay away from people or places that could trigger a relapse. It will help you to overcome the urge for sexual violence. Or any violence. We’ll develop a program and talk more about that during the next two weeks.”

“Andrew, one more second, please.” Alistair breathed in, the emotion cutting so deep that he actually felt pain. “Do you think Sophia would understand if I talked with her? About what happened today? I don’t want to be caught in a lie or omission.”

“She seems a wise woman,” Dr. Volk smiled. “Talk to her, Alistair. Not about the facts. You don’t need to tell her the details but about what you feel. You’ll need her continuing support and you’ll have to face your ability to confront emotional pain. It has been avoided for much too long. You’re still in the early stages of treatment. Think about speaking with Sophia as a part of this treatment too. The process of healing is facilitated when there is trust and you can bring light to previously hidden emotions. Share your secrets and feelings. Bring her here with you someday.”

“I will,” he agreed.

Dr. Volk looked at his watch. As always Alistair’s sessions were intense and went over the usual fifty minutes. He rose and accompanied Alistair to the door, reinforcing, “We’ll continue this discussion on Thursday. Please, don’t get in touch with Emma. If anything happens, call me.”

Alistair nodded, and sighed painfully. “I hope nothing else happens. See you on Thursday.”

Dr. Volk closed the door and sat at his desk taking notes. Alistair was slowly improving but the doctor was worried. What had happened that morning was not a usual relapse; with that woman back in his life, things could get out of control.

The City of London Headquarters,

In the Main Meeting Room.

8.46 p.m.

“Nae,
you
are nae getting
my
point.” Alistair’s Scottish accent made it clear to all vice-presidents in the room that he was not pleased by the news about the buying of the Brazilian bank chain. “My belief is that to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, every detail. I worked hard, very hard to achieve my position here. I always make my decisions based on logic and facts. I always read contracts and check all pertinent legislations, national and international. Especially when dealing with governments. I require that I be informed of everything that is happening. Everything.”

“Mr. MacCraig, if we are to receive the bank as we bought it, we’ll have to abide by their rules. That’s how things are done in Brazil,” the head of the legal department informed.

“Rules?! You mean bribes.” Alistair rose and put his palms on the table, leaning forward, looking each and every one in the eye. “No one informed me that they could block the deed after it was signed. No one informed me that it had to be approved
again
by a group of corrupt politicians—”

“Alistair Connor, please listen for a minute,” Arthur Berkley, now a minor partner of bank, interrupted him calmly. 

In deference to the twenty years that separated them, and because he was one of the founders, Alistair sat and leaned back, thinning his lips and getting his temper under control.

“
We
didn’t know. We paid what was previously agreed with the intervener. The approval wasn’t needed. It appeared in an old internal legislation out of nowhere. These corrupt countries have their twisted ways.”

As if I didn’t know.
Alistair drummed his fingers on the table, pondering for a moment. “Aye. That’s why the intervener was all smiles when I shook Senhor Magalhães’s hand and said it was a pleasure doing business with him. It will be my head on the block if this leaks to the press. Why did nobody take a second to stop by my ever open door and whisper, ‘
Hey, Mr. MacCraig, in spite of paying the usual bribes, we are being blackmailed to pay a few million pounds more to a few top Brazilian politicians, or they’ll block the deal.’
Why?”

“We didn’t think it necessary to worry you. We were trying to work it out and you seemed to be having enough problems with Soph—”

“Do not involve my wife in this, Malcolm.” Alistair cut the other bank partner. “And, for your information, my personal life is not, and it will never be, up for discussion. You should have known
all
legislation, new or old, internal or not, and I should have been informed. I wasn’t.”

The silence weighed until the atmosphere in the room was unbreathable.

The head of the legal department said, “Mr. MacCraig, I apologize profusely.”

Alistair Connor, you’re being too ethical.
“Apology accepted.” He looked at his watch, tired.
I wish I could go home.
“We are known for our aggressiveness in the market; it is risky, but good. We know that sometimes a little bump in the road is inevitable, but to lose this deal would be unacceptable. To pay such a huge amount in bribes is dangerous as it can be easily traced as everyone in this room is more than aware. Can you imagine the headlines if this is discovered? ‘
CLB pays hefty bribes to Brazilian politicians. CEO says he knew nothing about it.’
Is this what I’ve been working for all my life?”

“We need you to deal with them to set a reasonable price,” said Arthur Berkley.

Reasonable price for corrupt politicians? Ha!
“Don’t worry, Berkley.” He rose, towering over the table. “I will deal with them. In my own way. I’ll make this legislation disappear as magically as it has appeared. Let me remind you, gentlemen: I’m the CEO of this bank; I’m the majority shareholder. I am to be informed of such important things in advance. If anything like this happens again, I will hold you all responsible, and you won’t like the consequences. I bid you good evening.”

He shoved his hands in his trousers pockets and strode out of the room.

No one dared open their mouths or criticize. They knew Alistair’s power and that his was not a vain threat.

The Dorchester, The Harlequin Suite.

9.09 p.m.

“Hi, Ethan,” Barbara said sensuously, stepping into the living room of the suite, dressed in a long Donna Karan transparent silk black dress. A daring large gold chain dangled between her breasts with a polished horn pendant.

Jesus!
Ethan almost choked on the water he was drinking.

She was not wearing her contact lenses and had cut and dyed her hair to a lighter brown with streaks of dark blond in it.

The effect was stunning. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Good evening, darling. Are we going anywhere?”

She blinked at his question. “No. Why?”

“You look ravishing, Barbara.”
You have never looked more like yourself than tonight.
He was intrigued. He wanted to see what she had in mind.

“Thank you.” A happy look flashed on her face and she sat by his side on the sofa. Barefoot, in a navy sweater and slacks, he was edible. “You don’t look bad yourself.”

He laughed. “Thanks.”

Barbara crossed her legs and the dress slit opened to reveal she was wearing sparkling golden high-heeled sandals with straps that crisscrossed her calves up to her knees and her toenails were painted a light shade of gold.

As were the long nails that trailed up and down his thigh.

Seductress.
He fingered the chain and the horn she was wearing, skimming the tops of her breasts. He was not displeased with the changes she had been implementing.

The blue of her eyes was lighter than his, but they were bright and lively. Her new hair color was fashionable and enhanced her skin.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

Very, but not for food.
“Yes, but not much.”

“I ordered a light, cold dinner that is already served. Oysters and a lobster salad. We have been eating quite a lot recently.”

Ethan’s eyebrows rose. “Are you saying I’m getting fat?”

She smiled. “Ethan, you are fishing for compliments. You have a perfect body.” And her voice dipped a few tones, “One I plan to enjoy a lot.”

I’ll let you.
He liked it when she was bolder.
“Ah, that’s the reason for the light dinner.”

“Smart guy,” she breathed in his ear, taking him by the hand to the dining room.

The City of London Bank Headquarters,

Alistair’s office.

9.44 p.m.

“Come in,” Alistair answered when Tavish knocked on the door frame. “What are you still doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Brother. But then, I’m not the one recently married to a wonderful woman, father to an angel of a child. If you ever want to change places...” Tavish ducked to avoid the heavy leather bound notepad that sailed over his head. “Sorry, sorry.”

 Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache forming. A bad one. “I’m going home.”

“Ah, sorry, no, you’re not. MacKeenan asked me to inform you that Baptist will be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Fuck. I forgot.” Alistair put his forehead in his hands. “What time is it?”

“Quarter to ten,” said Tavish, quietly observing his brother.

I just want to go home.
He was tired. All he wanted now was a good shower and to sleep with Sophia in his arms. He picked up his cell phone and sent Sophia a text message telling her he wouldn’t be home any time soon.

“What’s wrong, Alistair Connor?” Tavish knew his brother better than anyone. “I’ve heard you’ve been terrorizing the whole office today. Has anything else happened?”

Alistair leaned on the chair and observed his brother for a few seconds.
He’s your brother, for Christ’s sake. Tell him.
“Aye, it has. Close the door, please.”

“So, what do you think?”

“Do you want me to say what I think or do you want some advice? Because you will receive two very different answers.”

“Right,” Alistair nodded tiredly. “I know what you personally think about Heather and company. But how about Sophia? Why did I rebuke her so fiercely?”

“Because you are not ready to share,” Tavish said, cutting straight to the point.

Alistair’s brows shot up. “I’ve told her about all this. Before she accepted my proposal and recently, even about Emma. My most shameful secret.”

“Ah, Alistair Connor,” he shook his head. “You’re not listening to me, and you didn’t listen to Dr. Volk. People who have had a traumatic experience feel a need to talk about what happened. This process is called social sharing and can occur days, weeks and even years after the event. This is all you have been doing, all right.”