Pandora's Box (37 page)

“I don’t understand,” he rasped.

This is not a thesis, Sophia.
“I did this too much, for too long. You yourself know it. Remember when I kept my distance from you? I was hanging onto pain, drinking the poisoned mistakes that couldn’t be corrected. Don’t cling to frustration, Ethan. Let it go little by little. It’s a small victory each day; a little peace you find for yourself. When you realize, you will have won the war and I will bake one of my chocolate cakes only for you!” 

He gave her a small smile at that.

“My friend,” she said softly, “there will never be a time when life is simple, but there will be ever a chance to let go and feel peaceful.” 

“And why can’t I find this chance?” His eyes filled with tears.

To this question Sophia knew the answer. “Because, you, as any other human being, are lovable, Ethan, but you have to be the first one to love yourself.” 

When his arms went around her and his forehead touched her shoulder, Sophia couldn’t deny him the comfort his shaken soul was desperate for. Her arms wound around his trembling torso. She whispered, “Cry, Ethan.”

As Ethan cried like he should have done many times since he was a child, he realized Sophia really loved him.

It was not the way he had previously wanted, but that was not what mattered anymore. Because she loved him in the way that he needed. 

Atwood House.

10.19 p.m.

Alistair turned off the TV and stretched his arms and legs out in front of him. He turned and lay down, putting his head on Sophia’s lap. “You’re quiet tonight.” 

Troubled, tired, sad.
Her fingers were instantly drawn to his silky hair. “Alistair Connor, I have to tell you something and I don’t exactly know how, because it’s not my story to tell, and— I went to Ethan’s suite at The Dorchester today, before I came home.” 

“Ashford again,” he bit out, willing himself not to frown and to hear her explanation before he did or said something he would regret.

Yes, Ethan again.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, distracted. “You know I like and I respect him, but only as a friend.”

“Aye. But, his suite, Sophia? You’re married now.”
Alistair Connor! Such an old-fashioned and absurd principle.
“Hmm. Forget I just said that.”
This is not what’s important.

She had thought about it a lot and decided she could tell part of the truth without disclosing Ethan’s past and still be loyal to Alistair and to herself. “First, I was not alone. Scott was there. Then, even if I were, I was not there to betray you. Third, I tried to call you, but you didn’t pick up. But, that’s not the point. The thing is, I went to Ethan’s and I want you to know what happened. Ethan has serious unsolved problems in his past. He confided in me once and he was in dire need of a friendly shoulder and someone to show him a new path. I went there for two hours or so, and we talked. He asked me to refer him to a therapist and…” She made an elegant, vague gesture with her hand. “That’s it.”
I wish it had been that simple.

That’s it?! Nae, Sophia. Unfortunately the sadness in your voice tells me that was not just it. But it also tells me that it has nothing to do with lust or love.
He was so lost in his musings and thoughts that he didn’t notice he has staring fixedly at her, almost glaring.

“Are you angry?” she whispered, smoothing his forehead and ink-black eyebrows with the tip of her fingers.

Angry? Nae.
He shook his head in silence, still looking at her, enjoying her light caresses.
Jealous, maybe. But proud too. Your righteousness is so strong that even married to an overbearing caveman of a husband, nothing stopped you from doing what you thought right.

“Alistair Connor?” She tilted her head to the side, lost in his shimmering forest-green gaze.

He gripped her wrist and brought her hand to his mouth, pressing a long kiss on its back. “Thank you for telling me, Sophia.”  

“I have nothing to hide. This is exactly how I expect us to build our lives, being truthful.”

He understood. “And trusting each other. No matter what.” 

“No matter what.” 

England, Cambridge, 5 Cranmer Road,

Outside The Lauterpatch Centre for International Law.

Wednesday, January 12
^th
, 2011.

3.59 p.m.

“What is your problem, man?” Zareb asked Devon, who had been brooding all day.

Devon passed his hand back and forth over his cropped hair, nervously. “I’m being blackmailed.”

Zareb’s smile disappeared. “Blackmailed? By whom?”

“An ex-lover.” Sharing his problem with his colleague seemed to have opened the gates to his confused story. “Well, it’s not exactly blackmail. She got pregnant a few months after my wife had our second daughter. I don’t want my wife and children to know, but that’s not the worst of it. She had problems during labor. So she had to stop working because our son requires all her attention. Now, all my money goes to them. My wife wants to know what is happening.”

“Fuck, Devon. Why haven’t you asked for Mrs. MacCraig’s help? A raise or a loan? Or even help from her foundation?”

“How can I fucking explain a shitty story like that to a married woman who is my boss?”

“Then explain it to Mr. MacCraig,” Zareb answered. “He’ll help. He’ll understand.”

Passing his hand again on his head, Devon grimaced. “Yeah, yeah. I will.”

Chapter 21

The City of London Bank Headquarters,

In the Main Meeting Room.

Wednesday, January 26
^th
, 2011.

2.55 p.m.

“Alistair Connor,” Berkley said, “they’ve set the meeting date for the beginning of March.”

“You all know I won’t be available then.” Alistair crossed his arms over his chest.

“They have informed us the deal can be canceled if not approved by March fifteenth,” informed Malcolm from the other end of the table.

“And you believe this, Malcolm?” He raised an ironic eyebrow. “We’re one of the most powerful banks in the world now. They can make our work difficult, but cancel the deal?”

“Carnival is a big holiday in Brazil, and they would have a good excuse to travel all together.”

Alistair laughed dryly. “I see you don’t know these guys. They don’t care if they have a good excuse or not. They do what they want without giving a shit about legislation, terms, or what their people need. They’re just trying to scare us. Let me tell you something, gentlemen: I. Am. Not. Easily scared.” He rose from his chair and walked to the door, but paused before opening it. 
Fuck! This is too serious to put entertainment first. 

He looked over his shoulder and instructed, “See what you can do. If there is no way around it, I’ll be here to face them.”

Chelsea. The Blue Dot.

8.07 p.m.

“Couldn’t you have arranged for another day?” Alistair said to Tavish as they entered his blue-marine BMW and huffed. “You knew it could turn into a dinner.”

“Sorry, Alistair Connor, but you know how artists are. I’ve even opened a special date at The Blue Dot for them.”

“You have?” Alistair was impressed. The schedule at the gallery was almost fully booked until the end of the year. “When?”

“They need just two days to set everything up. So, I thought about a grand opening on April fifth, ending the day after the Royal Wedding. We have another exhibition beginning on May third.”

Hmm.
“I don’t know. There are many holidays in April.”

“That’s why I managed to fit them in. There was nothing programmed for April but the exhibition of our in-house collection. I’m counting on you to guarantee the exclusivity for us. These brothers are quite slippery.”

“Don’t worry, Tavish Uilleam. That’s my specialty.” Alistair grinned at his brother and fished his iPhone from his inner breast pocket, texting. “I just have to tell Sophia that I won’t be having dinner with her.”

Alistair. 8.09 p.m. - The meeting has turned into a dinner. I’m on my way to the restaurant.  Sorry. ☹

Beauty. 8.10 p.m. - Is this dinner going to keep you for long?

Alistair. 8.11 p.m. - I hope not. Prob two hours.

Beauty. 8.11 p.m. - I’ll miss you.

He smiled smugly and texted back.

Alistair. 8.11 p.m. - I know

Beauty. 8.13 p.m. - Ah, Lord I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it, that’s a pity... I had such a nice surprise for you tonight. Well, enjoy your dinner and pay rapt attention to your partners’ conversation. ☺

She did it on purpose.
Alistair couldn’t believe his eyes. Surreptitiously, he arranged his half-arousal in his trousers.
This woman drives me to distraction.

Tavish couldn’t resist when he saw Alistair squirm on the seat. “Do you need more room in your trousers, Brother?”

“Tavish Uilleam.” Alistair glared at his brother, his face illuminated by the light of his phone. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh, aye,” Tavish laughed heartily. “It fucking is.”

Alistair. 8.16 p.m. - Wait until I get home. M N M I’ll show you what rapt means.

Alistair could almost hear Sophia chuckling as much as Tavish was. He knew that the dinner would be a long one.

Atwood House, Sophia & Alistair’s bedroom.

10.49 p.m.

“Sophia?” Alistair loosened his tie and threw his suit jacket on the armchair. “Sophia. Where are you?”

“I’ll be right there,” she shouted from behind the bathroom door. “Go ahead, and get in the shower.”

He huffed for the umpteenth time that evening and headed to his bathroom, disrobing on the way, and throwing everything in the hamper. Under the shower, he closed his eyes, putting his hands on the marble wall. He let the hot water beat onto his shoulders and back, relaxing and welcoming back in his body the potent lust which he had leashed during dinner. It had been just the right amount to make him touchy, and the artist brothers afraid of losing a good contract.

His lips curled in amusement. Sophia had turned into an expert in leaving him horny and eager to arrive home.

Alistair finished his shower. While he dried himself, he noticed a folded sheet of paper over a bundle of black leather on the sink.

Curious, he hung his towels over the shower glass door and inspected it. His jaw slackened and his eyes widened as he read the piece of paper. She had written out a list of steps he was to follow. And what was more astonishing, with rules. She even stated what kind of sex play she wanted him to do.

I’ve created a hungry monster.
The undiluted desire coursed even stronger and quicker through his veins while he donned the leather duster, raising its collar as instructed, and put on the low-cut leather trousers, already having problems closing it over his erection.
I won’t manage this, Sophia. It will be torture.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He shook his head at himself.
Alistair Connor, indulge her. At least, try.

He drew a very hot bath for them and dimmed the lights, exiting the bathroom in a state of high arousal.

The bedroom mood had been transformed with candles burning everywhere. In front of the windows, there were two extended armchairs facing each other, with black and scarlet velvets scattered over them.

Did she set all these while I was showering?
Then he noticed tables near each armchair, with a long plume, a silk scarf, body oil, lube, and different vibrators.
Alistair blinked amazed.
I
did
create a monster.

“Sophia, where the fuck—”
did you find all this?
Alistair couldn’t finish the sentence. Sophia had entered the room enveloped in a sheer gauzy black negligée that didn’t hide her sensuous black-and-red corset and hosiery.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the delicate black fur-lined red leather spiked wrist-cuffs and moved down to take in her matching ankle cuffs and Loubotin black varnished metal spiked stilettos.

He licked his lips as if feeling her womanly taste on them.
Oh, fuck. This will be a night.

“Remember the rules, Husband,” she said, huskily, and paused in a nonchalant pose in front of one of the armchairs, leisurely undoing the ties of her robe and letting it slide to the floor, slowly and sensuously. “Now, it’s your turn.”

She saw a sinful grin spread wide on his delectable lips as his eyes skimmed over her from head to toe and back again. Sophia knew that look meant hot sex. She knew he was going to torture her to the highest peaks of pleasure that night.

After tempting me for hours and appearing dressed like this, you think we’ll only strip and lewdly jack off in front of each other? Nae, I need more.
He pivoted, going back to his dressing room. He left it barechested, still with the leather trousers on and expertly cracking a long whip on the floor.

“How dare you forbid me to touch you? I will have you whenever I want,” he said as he slowly walked toward her, cracking the whip very near her feet.

Oh. What have I provoked?
Her eyes widened when he swiped it again in the air. She got distracted following its upward curve.

He was waiting for it. In a swift motion, he grabbed her by the waist and laid her face down on the extended armchair nearest her. Bending over her back, Alistair’s breath fanned her nape as he used the scarf to blindfold her. She shivered as darkness surrounded her and her breathing came out in hot pants. Trying to reassure her, as he untied only her thong, he cooed in her ear, “You want to play, Wife? We are going to play. Nicely.”

Sophia gasped, but she didn’t move. She didn’t know if she was aroused or frightened, or both at the same time.