Trust (24 page)
He opened his mouth to say something else but a knock on the door stopped him.
“Excuse me,” John entered the room with Alistair and a bald, short man carrying a black bag. “Dr. Longman has arrived.”
Ethan’s hands framed her face, a thumb caressed her mouth. “Are you sure…” he whispered. Angst laced his voice.
“I’m sorry, but yes, I’m sure, Ethan,” she murmured and stared deeply into his beautiful eyes.
What have I done? He’s suffering, hurting because of my mistake. I should have never allowed things to get this far
. “Have a safe trip, my dear.”
11.45 p.m.
Sophia woke herself with her own screams.
Every time she had that nightmare, she woke up screaming. Since waking in that hospital, she had been having them at least once a week.
Not being able to remember something she needed to remember left her feeling anxious and anguished for the rest of the night. Heavy prescription drugs had alleviated it before. Although those drugs could help, Sophia had sworn never to touch them again.
She sat up on the bed with her head in her hands, a painful throbbing in her temples.
Will I ever remember? Oh, God. I want this to end
.
She heard a knock on the door.
Damn. My screams must have woken someone
.
She put on a wrap and opened the door a crack. Alistair, Alice, and Leonard were outside her door.
Damn. Damn. Damn
.
“Are you okay, Sophia?” Alice asked in a worried voice. “Alistair heard you screaming and called me.”
Alistair studied Sophia’s face. The stitches marred her forehead just above her eyebrow and a big black-and-blue bruise stained from above the cut to her cheek. Her face was ashen and her lips had no color. Her dark brown eyes were wide and haunted.
“I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’m fine, thank you. It was just a nightmare.” She tried to smile but ended up grimacing.
“A drink will do you good,” Alistair said, his voice firm. “I’ll accompany you.” A command.
Just the sound of his deep voice made her giddy. And she wouldn’t fall asleep for hours. “Sounds good. I’ll meet you in a moment.”
He didn’t ask, you idiot. The right answer would have been “Yes, sire.”
When she opened the door again, only a small lamp lit the corridor. He waited for her outside, reclining against the doorjamb, his face in shadows. Even at this time of the night, he looked as if he had stepped off the cover of a magazine. A dark-green V-neck cashmere sweater clad his perfect chest and he wore his black jeans low on his hips.
She had quickly changed into a long-sleeved T-shirt and a gray cashmere cardigan, jeans and black boots.
“Shall we?”
“Again, I’m sorry I disturbed you,” she said in a voice above a whisper.
“I was awake. My room is the one next to yours. That’s why I heard you.”
He fell in step beside her, and they descended the stairs in silence, entering the library.
“What will you have?”
“Whisky. Neat.”
He looked at her sideways, smiling, but said nothing. He served them both and put some ice cubes in his glass. “Here you are. Scotch Whisky. Like we drink in Scotland. Single.” He sat beside her on the sofa, stretching his long legs in front of him and crossing his feet at his ankles.
The silence was comfortable. She was aware of Alistair glancing at her while she drank, but she said nothing, waiting for him to start a conversation. The whisky burned her throat filling her with warmth.
“Want to talk about your nightmare?”
She shook her head, tightening her lips for a moment to stop the words that were threatening to escape.
“Everyone knew it wasn’t an accident. He was pissed off,” he said in a low, dark voice.
She looked at him, puzzled, not making the connection right away.
“You weren’t dreaming about what happened today.” He suddenly understood.
She shook her head, slowly.
He put his warm and long hand on her cold one. “It’s good to talk. Helps keep the ghosts at bay.”
I wish I had someone to talk to about mine
.
She looked into his eyes, taking in their beauty and shook her head again. “I think this ghost will haunt me forever.” She sighed, rubbing her arm where she had been shot. “I don’t really know what goes on while I dream. I have partial amnesia. I don’t remember what happened and the nightmares…” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “I dream but when I wake up I can’t remember anything. Almost two years and I still can’t remember. I only know what other people and documents tell me. What happened… It was… Is too painful for my mind to cope with.” She shrugged. “At least, that’s how the doctors explained it.”
“I don’t understand…” He frowned. “What don’t you remember exactly?”
“I don’t remember part of my life after the night I was shot. I remember leaving a party with Gabriel. Then… Emptiness. A void. Two months are gone from my mind. And quite a few parts of the following two.” She looked at him, their gazes locked and she whispered, “And I don’t know if I really want to remember.”
“I can understand that feeling.” He squeezed her hand. “Your husband was killed on the same day you were shot?”
“No.” She wetted her lips and drank a bit more of the whisky. “No, he wasn’t. But… That’s more the official version than anything else.”
“Come again?”
“Everything is a great blur of pain.” She looked at the hazel liquid in the glass and swirled it. “I
know
he wasn’t killed on the same night because the police told me this and because I received-” She choked with the words, incapable of continuing. She shook her head hard to dislodge the painful image out of her head. “The doctors said that one day something might trigger my memory.” She bit her lip and silence ensued for some minutes. They were absorbed in their own thoughts.
“Who was the man, that day, at the Royal Courts?”
She looked at him warily.
His fingers caressed the back of her hand. “You can trust me. You know that.”
“My father-in-law,” she said softly and lowered her head.
He understood. She wasn’t going to say anymore.
“I could give you and Gabriela a lift back to London. I came by myself and have plenty of room in my car. I would enjoy having your company on the way back.”
Sophia almost thanked him for the change of topic. “I’d love to. What do you drive?”
“I came in the Range Rover.”
“My husband used to have one. He loved cars.” She smiled then. “What man doesn’t?” She finished her drink.
“Indeed.” He noticed that her empty glass. “Do you want more?”
“Yes, thank you. With ice, please. I don’t usually drink whisky, but I need one more.”
He rose, went to the cabinet, and refilled their glasses. He ambled in her direction, perusing her. “And you? You like cars?”
“Do I like cars?” she smiled. “If I could, I would sleep inside a car. I’ve always liked cars. I learned to drive with my brother. He’s the best. I turned into a maniac after my marriage. Believe it or not, I’m one of the best drivers you’ll ever see.”
“A woman? One of the best drivers I’ll ever see?” He smiled back. “I doubt it.”
“Try me.”
“One day you can take me for a ride. I’d like to judge for myself.”
“Done. Just pick the date.” She grinned widely. “I can’t resist a challenge. I hope you’re not afraid of speed or get carsick.”
“I’ll make sure my life insurance is up to date.”
She laughed.
He felt content. The haunted look from her face had vanished.
Sunday, February 14
th
, 2010.
Late afternoon.
Alistair opened the door for her and offered his hand to help her inside his Baltic blue Range Rover.
Sophia looked down at his hand for a moment and put hers in his.
Alistair experienced the same electric shock he felt every time he touched her.
Her touch is cold, trembling, soft, and delicate
. Her long fingers wrapped around his hand distracting him from what he was supposed to do. He stared at her elegant hand and closed his warm fingers over hers, immediately imagining how it would feel to explore her body with his fingers.
She cleared her throat, taking him abruptly out of his dream state. He gave her a small smile and helped her enter the car.
“Hey, Fairy! Let me check this car seat!” He opened the back door of the car to recheck the car seat, the seat belt, and the harness until completely confident Gabriela was secure. Alistair got in the car himself and looked at Sophia, a haunted look on his face. “You should always double-check that her seat and seat belt are secure.” He watched Gabriela in the rearview mirror. “That car seat is too small for her.”
“That one is for sports cars. It’s made like that. It’s not too small, that’s her size,” she said, confused by the sudden change in his behavior.
“I see.” He breathed deeply and smiled at her. “What kind of music would you like?”
“Anything’s fine.” She smiled back, “From classic to hard rock,” she shrugged, “From Mozart to Thirty Seconds to Mars.”
“Mama has very nice music on her iPhone. Put something on, Mama. Please.”
“Angel, let Alistair choose the music,” she chastised.
“Oh, no, please. I want to listen to your selection.” He extended a cable to plug in her phone.
“Do it, Mother. But no operas today. Put on your running playlist.”
“Do you like opera?” Alistair asked looking quickly at Gabriela before entering a sharp curve.
“I do. We do.” Gabriela felt at home.
Gabriela likes him
. Sophia selected the list her daughter had requested.
“Rihanna?” Alistair looked surprised.
“It’s for running. You don’t like this type of music?” She immediately picked up her phone, scrolling through her playlists. “I have others: Evanescence, Linkin Park, Beethoven, Ollof, Italian operas, French and Italian romantics, or Brazilian soft and pop music. Name it.”
“No, no. It’s okay. Leave the one Gabriela likes. But I wouldn’t have picked you for a fan of this kind of music. You seem…” he eyed her, “far too serious for it.”
“You say that because you never saw Mama dance and sing. No one does it better than her. She does it alone at home.”
“It’s not true. Gabriela exaggerates.”
The guy will think I’m nuts. Dancing alone at home. I need to have a serious talk with Gabriela when we get home
.
“It seems I’ll have to take you out dancing. Again, I have to judge for myself.”
“Hmm. Gabriela, we have a Saint Thomas in our midst. He has to see it, to believe it.”
He laughed, “I can assure you, I’m no saint.” And gazed at her, a sensual twist on his mouth.
London.
7.01 p.m.
Time seemed to fly by. The conversation flowed easily between the three of them.
“I’m not living at Eaton Square anymore. I bought a house at Kensington Palace Gardens.”
No need to lie anymore. Well, at least not about this
. She sighed inward.
I’ll have to explain things better to Ethan and apologize
.
Alistair chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, shooing away her guilty thoughts.
“I live just a block down the road. At Palace Gardens Terrace.”
“Mmm.”
“Where is your house exactly?” he asked when they passed the iron gates of the private street.
“You can stop right here.”
He parked next to the curb and helped her take out their luggage. He didn’t see but immediately two huge men dressed in dark suits approached them from inside the gates. Sophia smiled at the men and made a signal for them to wait.
“Nice place.” He studied the location. “Beautiful garden.” He had been there before, but couldn’t remember when exactly.
“Yes, it is,” she mused.
He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember when he had been there. “Need help with your luggage?” He held her hand, his fingers caressing the palm.
A shock of desire shot through Sophia’s body. She gazed at his face and there it was: that hungry look. She wetted her lips. His eyes followed the movement, a flame burning in the green.
There’s no way I’m going to invite him inside
. “No, it is fine,” she said in a raspy voice and cleared her throat. “Thank you very much for the ride. I enjoyed it.”
“And
I
loved it! Can we plan another trip together?” Gabriela asked, totally unaware of the adults’ sizzling sexual undertow.
Alistair had to force himself to move his gaze from Sophia’s mouth to the little girl. He went down fluidly on his haunches to look at Gabriela. “Of course, Fairy. Anytime you want. Just call me.”
“I don’t have your telephone number,” she pouted. “How can I call you?”
He laughed. “This one is going to cause you trouble, Sophia.” He fished a card from his wallet. “Do you have a pen?” he asked Sophia.
She took her pen from her bag and held it to him. After writing down his cell phone and home numbers on the back of the card, he returned the pen to Sophia and handed the card to Gabriela. “Here. Now, you can call me.”
“Thank you.” She hugged and kissed him.
Alistair felt a pang in his heart. “Any time, sweetheart.” His arms went around the small body, holding her close. “Call me any time you feel like,” he whispered.
“I will.” She nodded and read the card slowly and concentratedly. “Alis-tair Co-nnor Mac-Craig, C-E-O.” She stopped there and her eyes were curious. “What’s a CEO?”
“Hey. You already know how to read?”
This little girl is a wonder
.
“Yes, I have a private teacher, Miss Eileen. She’s very nice,” she answered. “So, what’s a CEO?”
“A president,” Sophia simplified.
The little girl’s eyes widened. “You’re the president of Scotland?”
Alistair and Sophia laughed at Gabriela’s naïveté.
“No, sweetheart.” He grinned widely. “I’m the president of The City of London Bank. See the small name and initials here?” He pointed to a logo discretely imprinted on the top left of the card.
“President of a bank.” That impressed Gabriela. “You must be very, very important.”
He laughed again. A beautiful, easy laugh.
Gabriela doesn’t like many men. Well, she doesn’t like to make new acquaintances, period
. The ease and friendship now established between her daughter and that stranger amazed Sophia.
So different from her relationship with Ethan. Oh, Sophia, come now. What relationship? Ethan never liked her
.
