Trust (44 page)

“Thanks,” she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re the best friend a woman could want.”

“I’m glad you’ve met someone worthy of you. And you know what they say about number three, don’t you?”

She looked at him, puzzled.

“It’s the charm, love. Number three is the lucky one.” He swatted her butt. “Go. Enjoy your night. I’ll want a full and detailed report on Monday.”

She blushed and he laughed.

She threw her Louis Vuitton monogram bag on her shoulder, picked up her redingote, and exited the office. While heading to the lifts, she looked at the iPhone screen. Two calls from Alistair.

Damn! I hate being late
.

She sprinted through the corridors and tapped her shoe while waiting for the lift to go down, looking at her Cosmograph Daytona Rolex. The seconds glided fast, making her even later. As soon as the door opened on the ground floor, she ran to the sliding doors, almost slamming into them.

He stood waiting for her next to his Range Rover. A lock of his hair, still damp from a recent shower, fell across his eyes. He looked absolutely incredible with a six-button double-breasted gray cardigan with its collar up. He had tied a long black-and-white scarf around his neck Ascot style. The scarf’s tips ended below his cardigan. His dark gray faded jeans hugged his long legs and made her mouth water.

When he saw her running, he grinned widely and scooped her by the waist, lifting her up, “Where are you going in such a hurry?” He kissed her on the lips.

“I’m late, sorry.”

“You’re worth the wait. You smell good,” he nuzzled her neck with his nose. “So, are you going to cook for me tonight?”

“Are you hungry?” she asked, her lips near his.

“Famished,” he said with a sensual innuendo in his voice and pulled her into his embrace for a real kiss, before opening the door for her.

He sat behind the steering wheel, starting the car, “How was your day?”

“Nothing special,” she said, plugging her iPhone into the car stereo and choosing a song list to play. “I missed you so much I couldn’t concentrate on what I was doing.”

“That’s bad,” he said dryly.

“You think so?” she stared at him, a gullible look at her face, imagining he was joking. “Why?”

“You shouldn’t let me disturb you,” he answered, seriously. “If you feel disturbed, it’s because your emotions are out of hand.”

Out of hand? OUT OF HAND?
“You didn’t
disturb
me today, Alistair,” she said, hurt showing in her voice, “I missed you. You were away the whole week. I…”
Damn you, Alistair Connor! Here comes one of your dark moods
. “Stop the car!”

He looked at her, flabbergasted, “I beg your pardon?”

“I said: stop the car! Now, please!” She said with a low voice, but loaded with strength.

He found a place to park and turned to stare at her, “All right. I have stopped the car. What are you going to do now?”

“Talk. We’re going to talk, because either you meant something completely different from what I heard, or I heard it right and I didn’t like it.” He started to speak but she interrupted him, “I’m not finished. We have been going out for nearly a month. We see each other almost every day. Before this started, you once mentioned the attraction between us. You have been trying to get me in your bed since then. Now, pray tell me: Why shouldn’t I miss you? Why shouldn’t I think about you?” She frowned and shook her head. “What do you think I am? A robot? That I can switch on and off as I want?” She pierced him with a fierce gaze, “You didn’t disturb me, Alistair. On the contrary. I missed you, a lot. I like being with you. But, if this is bothering you, we can solve this problem right away. I won’t burden anyone.”

Alistair watched her as she vented her frustration, trying to remember what he said that had generated that outburst. He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Let’s start from the beginning. What did I say that hurt you so much?”
Damn mercurial woman
.

“You don’t know what you said?” Her eyes wide.
Am I so insignificant?

“Listen, I’m tired. I know this isn’t an excuse, but I had a bad week. I might have said something wrong.” He exhaled a gust of breath, grabbing her hand, caressing it with his thumb, “I missed you, too. A lot, as you said. I also like being with you, more than you can imagine. Tell me, what did I say that made you so angry?”

“I said that I couldn’t concentrate on work because I missed you and you rebuked me, saying it was a bad thing. That I shouldn’t let
you
disturb me and that my emotions were
out of hand
.” She shook her head hard. “What do you want? Do you want a relationship with a woman who does not miss you and feels nothing for you? Who can spend a week without seeing you and not care? Is this what you wish? I’m not that woman. So, I’m not the woman for you.”

Not the woman for me?
His facial expression registered shock.
How can you be so stupid, Alistair Connor?
He had spent all his nights alone in Scotland thinking about her, wishing she were feeling his absence as much as he did hers.

Since I discovered Heather’s betrayal, I’ve only had empty sex and never felt anything for a woman, but anger
. He stared into her eyes, struggling to unveil her feelings. Her teeth biting her lip gave her - and her feelings - away. Again something stirred inside his chest, almost paining him.
What do I want? Just a good fuck? Something more? Am I trying to push her away with words? Am I going to hurt her?

“Not the woman for me? Not the woman for me?” he whispered disturbed and shook his head, inhaling loudly, “No. You are. I’m sure. Believe me, I didn’t mean I don’t like that you missed me or even that you think about me so much that you can’t concentrate.” He caressed her face. “Nobody has ever told me that. It’s wonderful. I just…” he looked at her, troubled. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
I don’t want to lose her; I can’t lose her. She makes me feel alive again
. “Please, believe me.”

Sophia, whose gaze never strayed from his while he spoke, weighed her answer before nodding solemnly and avowing quietly, “I do,” she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Let’s go.”

Atwood House.

6.55 p.m.

When they neared her house, Sophia touched an application on her iPhone and a remote control appeared on the screen.

Bright lights illuminated an enormous white house, with imposing Roman columns behind tall black-and-golden iron gates.

Sophia turned to look at him, “This is the main entrance.”

His disbelief and hurt were imprinted on his face for a second before he schooled his features into his poker-faced look. “You don’t live here!”

“I do,” came the simple reply.

“This isn’t where I’ve been picking you up.”

“The renovations weren’t finished so I used the garden gates.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me before?” He asked, his expression impenetrable.

“I wanted to show you the house after it was done.” She tilted her head, looking at his face, “And I’m telling you now. Does it make any difference?”

“No. No, I guess not.” The inscrutable look vanished from his face as quickly as it came and a smile appeared.

“Park inside, there’s room in the garage.”

She touched a green button. The gates opened swiftly and smoothly. “You’re my first guest,” she beamed at him.

They passed a cabin and Sophia waved to the men inside. As Alistair looked pointedly at her, she shrugged and answered, “Security.”

Suddenly, his brows rose, “I knew I’d seen these gardens before! I’ve been here once at a party with Heather. The gardens are truly incredible.”

“Only the gardens?” she teased as she touched another button to turn on the lights in the house. “Turn right and go down the ramp.” She opened the gates and he parked in a spacious garage beside a silver Mercedes SLR McLaren Roadster 722s with an automatic retractable top and a Black Amethyst XJ Jaguar LWB Ultimate.

“I’ve never been inside the house before,” he answered. He grinned as she touched another button on her iPhone. “Is it voice activated as well?”

“Actually, it is, but I prefer to use it manually. I love these little facilities modern life provides. The house is intelligent. I’ve already turned on the lights and the heating,” she chuckled. “Thank, God, you’ve never been inside the house. It was terribly tacky. I remodeled everything. Trust a fortune hunter to ruin centuries of beauty with a supposedly contemporary touch,” she made a face. “After she
redecorated
it, she decided it was too big. She overbilled her husband, sweet Mr. Brenton, and embezzled his money. He found out, of course. I really don’t know what he saw in her besides her youth and superb body.”

“You met the former owners?”

“Yes, Mr. Brenton is a gentleman and the divorce upset him. Juliette really is a gold-digging
whore
,” she sneered.

He looked startled, “I’ve never heard you curse like that before. Juliette and Heather were friends.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she whirled to look at him, mortified, “I didn’t mean- I thought Mr. Brenton was your connection.”

A vicious expression had replaced his shock. “Heather was a gold-digging whore, too.”

“I’m so sorry.”
Damn!

“Let’s not ruin our night talking about her.” He opened the door and left the car, walking around to open her door.

She got out of the car, putting her hand on his arm. She parted her lips, but before she could utter a word, his hand grabbed her waist and drew her body to his, cupping her nape and desperately kissing her open lips.

“Sophia…” he breathed on her mouth, not knowing if his control would hold. She kissed him back, her hands entwining in his hair. Somehow, he stopped kissing her to regain his senses and held her close to his body, pure torture. She breathed hard. He buried his head in her hair, panting. He already had a major hard-on.

“Sophia, it’s really okay.” He kissed her again, this time softly. “I’m not angry with you. It’s just that my memories of Heather are still raw. Come, show me your home. I want to see it.”

He knocked on the windshield of the Jaguar as he passed it and paused, frowning, “Bulletproof?”

“Yeah, both of them. Even the glass partition and the sunroof are bulletproof. I’m kind of paranoid about safety,” she explained. Staring into his green eyes, she asked softly, “Wouldn’t you be, too?”

“I guess,” he concurred. “Wonderful cars you have here.”

“I told you I liked to drive,” she smiled. “Gabriela is becoming the same. She chose the Jaguar with me. But she doesn’t like the McLaren.”

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t have a backseat,” she shrugged. “It’s not for children.”

“I see,” he murmured, distractedly, still admiring the McLaren.

Men will always be men
. She shook her head and smiled, “Come,” she put her hand in his, pulling him. “This is the lower ground. There’s the garage,” Sophia felt glad her voice sounded almost normal, as she opened and closed doors, “a cellar, aaand here,” she pushed at tall double doors, motioning him inside. She touched a button and the lights came on, “A heated pool, a steamer, a complete gym, and spa room.” She pointed to the end of the room.

He looked at her dumbfound, “You really know how to live, don’t you?”

“This is Gabriela’s playground.”

His deep laughter echoed in the empty room. “Indeed. I’m sure Gabriela runs on the treadmill, lifts weights, and uses the steamer. And, naturally, she needs a semi-Olympic pool to play in.”

The pool lounge had reclining chairs with white padded mattresses and two square tables for eight. Everything readied for guests, towels in woven baskets skillfully distributed around the room and a wet bar.

“Okay, guilty. It’s my playground, too.” She turned off the lights.

“Stairs or lift?”

“Lift? What for?”

“Try carrying a sleeping Gabriela two flights of staaaaaa-” she screamed when he picked her up in his arms and started for the stairs.

He smiled wickedly at her, “I don’t think it’s a problem, do you, Sophia?”

“You’re crazy, did you know that?” she laughed, clinging to his neck.

“I’m crazy about you.” They reached the top of the stairs, “Where next?”

“Put me down,” she wiggled her legs.

“I like you where you are,” he retorted, his green eyes sparkling. “Right or left?”

“Right if you want to see the reception rooms first, left for the gardens and the office.” He turned right. She seized the moment to nibble at his earlobe, running her nails lightly on his nape.

Fuck
. He felt a thrill run down his spine. “Stop that or I’ll drop you.”

“I doubt it,” she laughed, doing it again, this time rimming his ear with her tongue.

He put her down and backed her against the corridor wall, towering over her, “Don’t tease.” He pulled her up against his erection. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Sorry.” She kissed him lightly, smiling inward.
If you only knew…

His hand grabbed hers, and turning it palm up, he placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist, nibbling it, his gaze burrowing into hers, “Don’t test my self-control, Sophia. I can’t be patient forever. Show me the rest of your home.”

She led him down the corridor, opening the door to the hallway. “The hall is more remarkable when seen from the front door; it makes a great first impression. I love its height. It’s almost thirty feet.” She made a face. “It was carpeted. Can you imagine how awful that looked?”

The black-and-white limestone flooring had been arranged in a repeating geometric pattern. In the middle of the hall, a huge Baccarat vase with fresh flowers commanded attention from its place on a round Chippendale table. An impressive Napoleon III gilt bronze and Baccarat chandelier hung from the ceiling.

“It’s stunning,” he said.

She looked around as if seeing it through his eyes, “Yes, it is.” She went to her right, opening walnut double doors. “This is the reception room.”

He entered a breathtaking room of three thousand-square feet with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side, which would allow natural light to stream into every corner. A black grand piano stood at the far end. The walls were lined with dark green damask silk accented with exquisite contemporary paintings. The sofas and armchairs were done in white-and-green silk damask. Pillows of varied colors, shades, and forms were scattered over them, bringing Sophia’s peculiar and warm touch into the room. Against one of the walls stood one of the remarkable Cucci cabinets, originally made for Louis XIV.