Authors: Cristiane Serruya
“So?”
You confusing son of a bitch.
“The problem is that social sharing involves only the facts of the event. You’re not the only one to do this. It’s hard to get in touch with the emotions and feelings that surrounded the event. And they are never shared, if ever, as they should.”
Have
you
ever?
“But I have. I even cried like a child in her arms one morning during our
honeymoon,
for Christ’s sake.”
“That’s good. But did you talk about what made you cry?” Tavish asked, already knowing what the answer would be.
“Aye, I said that I missed Nathalie.”
“What really makes the difference is the sharing of emotions, not in a small degree, but in an open way. Remember everything that happened, even if it pains you so much you want to die over and over again; talk about your emotions in the past, what you felt when Nathalie was born, when she died, and how it still affects you today—”
Fuck you, Brother.
“You want to rub me raw?”
There was such emotion in Alistair’s voice that Tavish felt pity.
“There. You are feeling rubbed raw. Emotionally skinned, with nothing left to protect you. No mask, no justification. Pure emotions.” Tavish’s face was serious when he finished, “Believe me, Brother. It hurts. It hurts like hell. You’ll cry other times. But when you’re done, you will weigh a thousand tons less.”
The Harlequin Suite.
10.26 p.m.
Ethan finished his Porto and put the small crystal glass on the side table. He looked at Barbara, realizing he never asked what she did during the day. All their talk centered on his work or on what they were going to do on the weekends. He didn’t know what she liked to read; or what kind of films she liked to see. She accompanied him to wherever he went without complaining. To the opera, the ballet, the theatre. She never said she would prefer to do something different. And now that he was really alone, no family, no Sophia, no one, only her, he wanted to know.
Perhaps, Barbara can help me deal with my many issues.
“How was your day?”
Barbara reached over to touch his face and pulled him closer. She slid her lips across his jawline until she was whispering in his ear, “I don’t want to talk right now. Come to bed.”
Ethan actually felt his breathing speed up as he followed her into the master suite. The bed was turned down and there was a sweet scent in the room.
“Bed or bath?” Barbara’s puckered nipples were showing through the dress. Her eyes were fastened on Ethan’s groin and her tongue leisurely licked her lips. She took off her long dress and dropped to her knees, wearing just the Greek-style sandals and a small thong. “Forget I asked.”
Ethan took off his sweater and threw it over his shoulder as Barbara unfastened his trousers and pulled the zipper down, shoving them all the way to his bare feet and he stepped out.
She stared at his throbbing member with hunger. She felt like an addict who has been deprived of her drug of choice for too long. She took his manhood in her hand and said loudly, “I want you so badly.”
He raised his eyebrows at her with a devilish smile. “What’s keeping you from having me?”
Barbara dragged her nails up and down his thighs, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin and he threw his head back. Slowly, painfully slow, she worked her fingers up to his balls and arousal and gripped him forcefully.
“Take me in your mouth,” he groaned an order, his body tense. “Now, Barbara.”
She sucked his balls and licked the underside and tip of his penis, blowing on it.
With a loud groan, Ethan fisted her hair in his hands when she took him in her mouth, with her hand firmly gripping his base. He looked down as his glistening member slid in and out of her mouth and her breasts swung with the motion.
She dragged her teeth lightly over the broad head and Ethan let out a load grunt.
“Yes, keep going. Don’t stop!” Ethan’s breathing turned to loud pants and grunts and his hands took more of Barbara’s hair in them. He was close and he was going to come hard. He started to thrust in her mouth and she answered by sucking him harder, fondling him with her hands. “Barbara, baby, you’re so hot.”
She moaned with pleasure and the vibrations shot through him.
“I’m coming, baby! Coming hard.” He plunged forward and deep into her mouth, filling it in spurts.
He let go of her hair and threw himself on the bed, breathing heavily, his body limp from the release.
Barbara licked her lips and lay on her side, looking at him. “Good?”
“Sexy... Depleting...” He kissed her and looked her over. Her right hand was absently caressing her breast, the horn pendant lying heavily on the other. She was also breathing heavily. “You’re beautiful, Barbara. I don’t want you using the lenses or dying your hair anymore. I’ll buy you a new wardrobe. And no normal jewels for you. This horn pendant is sensuous.”
She froze. “You noticed.”
Really?!
“Barbara.” He sneered. “I notice everything. I just pretended not to, sometimes.”
She remained silent, even more confused by the man by her side.
His hand covered hers on her breast and another went down into her. “Let me get you off.”
He didn’t have to ask twice. She rolled on her back opening her legs to him wantonly. “Yeah, make me come.”
He smiled.
Such an easy woman to please. Maybe she is the best thing Sophia has put in my path after all.
Atwood House.
11.47 p.m.
“Hi,” Alistair whispered as he entered the kitchen.
Sophia turned on the chair to face him.
The whitemoon light illuminated her features slightly: those beautiful eyes fringed by long lashes, the perfect skin, that mass of long, silky hair that fell over her shoulders, which he ached to slide his fingers through. But he didn’t know if she would be quite willing to be affectionate.
She had waited for him to arrive and gave him a peck on his lips when all he wanted was to gather her in his arms and burrow his head in the hollow of her neck, letting her sweet and peculiar scent wash over him, cleaning away the problems of the day.
But she stepped back and told him that she would warm up his dinner while he showered.
As he ate, she talked inanities until she lapsed into an uneasy silence, dealing with her jumbled thoughts.
He told her he was leaving for Scotland the next morning for a few days, and also became quiet, thinking about how afraid he was of her reaction to taking a few days off in Scotland, solving minor problems that could be resolved by Malcolm or Berkley.
Sophia had heard the employees commenting that he had left the house in the early hours of the morning, returning less than an hour later in a dark mood. Something very bad had happened during those hours and he hadn’t shared it with her.
“Are you tired?” he asked awkwardly.
“No. But you are,” she said softly. There were shadows under his troubled eyes.
Worried.
“Exhausted.” His weary voice was like velvet and sandpaper all wrapped up together as he placed his silverware on his plate. “I had a rough day. Too many problems in just one day.”
So tell me about them.
“Do you want dessert?” she asked, taking his plate and putting everything in the sink. She dried her hands and leaned on the counter, waiting for him to talk, to say something.
“Nae.”
I just want to hold you in my arms.
Alistair knew what she wanted but he was not ready to share. Especially after the lack of news from Baptist an hour ago. “Let’s sleep. You wake up early tomorrow and I have a full day too.”
Stubborn man.
“All right.”
Alistair followed her up to the room and when she exited her dressing room, he was already in bed, his head resting on his hands, looking up at the canopy. He was so lost in his thoughts that he only noticed her when the bed dipped.
She asked, “Take off your shirt. Please.”
Sophia draped herself over him, leaning her head on his strong shoulder.
He was feeling guilt and didn’t know how to approach the subject.
She was feeling hurt by the way he had ignored her that morning.
They were both awkwardly touching each other as if looking for a way to start the so needed conversation.
“I’m sorry about this morning.”
His voice cut through her thoughts.
What can I say? I’m also sorry you hurt my feelings?
She ran her hand softly over his chest and shoulder. “You were troubled.”
“Aye, anyway, I’m really sorry.
Mo gràdh
, we’ll talk about this another day, okay?”
I have to work this out better in my head.
She didn’t answer immediately, but settled herself more comfortably on his body. Kissing his chest, she whispered, “Let’s sleep,
meu amor.
Tomorrow will be another day.”
If it were that simple.
He closed his eyes and banded his arms around her body, taking comfort from her love.
What are you going to say when I spill everything?
Chapter 12
Leibowitz Oil Building.
Wednesday, October 13
th
, 2010.
1.46 a.m.
“Sophia?” Ashley repeated Sophia’s name, waking her up from her reveries.
Sophia saw that Edward was looking at her quizzically. He must have known she was just pretending to pay attention but there was no pretending with Edward. He knew her too well and could read behind her formal expressions. She gave him a little smile and answered Ashley, making one or two well-placed comments, but her wayward thoughts kept returning to the eve of her wedding day. The happiness she had seen in Gabriela’s and Alistair’s faces when she said yes to Gabriela’s request to call him daddy; the way his eyes filled with tears, and Gabriela’s shouts of joy.
This morning, during breakfast, she had caught him gazing at her and Gabriela with such a longing, as if trying to express a feeling or as if searching to comprehend why she had promised to let him be Gabriela’s father and had not taken legal care of it. For her, he was already Gabriela’s father; it was just a matter of heart. But, still, there was something hidden in his gaze and she couldn’t fathom what she could have done to deserve such odd behavior that mixed oblique glances and pensive stares.
She sighed, relieved when the meeting concluded without any more slipping attention on her part. She might have argued a few more points, but Leibowitz Oil was in good hands and she had more pressing matters to deal with. For once, she didn’t want to be perfect or to control everything.
Edward’s hand on her shoulder halted her mid-step. She was so deep in her musings she didn’t notice his approach.
“Want to talk?” he asked in a smooth voice, guiding her by her elbow to his office.
No. Yes. I don’t know. Things are still a bit bumpy. And what if I do the wrong thing? And what if I am wrong? What if I am rushing things, as always? I want the path smoothed. I want to know what is happening. But I don’t know how to do the smoothening and I don’t know what to ask. I want answers no one but myself can give.
Edward informed Sarah they were not to be disturbed and closed his door. He leaned on the glass window and his blond hair caught the light, making a halo around his head.
Are you my guardian angel?
Sophia stood by the door, biting her lip, wondering how many times Edward had calmly helped her through the most tempestuous moments in her life since Gabriel had died.
He raised an eyebrow at her and jutted his chin to the sofa.
Deciding to burden him again, Sophia sat on the lounge facing the Thames and took a deep breath. She raised her eyelids and fixed his blue eyes with her hazel ones, blurting out, “I promised Gabriela she could call Alistair Daddy on the eve of our wedding. He said it was the best gift I could have given him and she was screaming her happiness for everyone to hear. I am afraid of what Alberto can do. I don’t want to see it taken away from them. Never, ever. So, Edward, I want to make legal what I had given from my heart. I want Alistair to be Gabriela’s legally adopted father.”
Ashford Steel Industries.
Thursday, October 14
th
, 2010.
3.15 p.m.
“Mr. Ashford,” Scott’s voice came through the intercom. “Sorry to interrupt, sir. May I come in?”
“Yes, Scott.” Ethan’s forehead creased. There was something unusual in Scott’s tone. After a brief knock, his assistant entered his enormous office, deathly pale. Ethan looked Scott over. His handkerchief was wrung in his hand and he could barely conceal the trembling of his thin body. “Speak.”
Scott wiped his forehead as, in a barely audible voice, he said, “Your parents are here, Mr. Ashford. Sir. Reception just informed me they are heading to the elevators.”
Jesus.
Ethan blanched but his cunning mind quickly devised a plan to gain himself a few minutes more. “Stop the elevators. Now, Scott. All of them.”
I don’t care who is inside.
As Scott rushed out of the room, Ethan breathed deep, trying to calm himself. He was not expecting the visit. He had thought his parents had forgotten the threat when they hadn’t appeared or called anymore, but he should have known better. His hands started to tremble and he felt like a little kid again who was about to receive a punishment he didn’t deserve. He went into his bathroom and washed his face, combing his hair back. He looked at his image. He looked scared. He blinked forcefully a few times and composed himself the best he could. For a moment, he wished he had his beard back. It gave him a manlier appearance.
Then he shrugged.
Manlier or not, it makes no different to Calista or George. Time to plan a strategy.
A strange calm descended over him.
Let’s hear what they have to say. Let’s see their evidence then I can decide.