“You are a young woman, Sophia. Living alone is a sacrifice.” Unashamedly, his green eyes expressed a naked desire that threatened to consume Sophia. “You need a man to bring you pleasure.”
You can fill the position if you wish. Sophia cleared her throat, before changing subjects. “So, do you always go to the movies?”
If the woman with him were not Sophia, he would have skipped dinner, dragged her directly to his apartment, and had sex for hours until he was done with her. Instead, he continued with the conversation, talking about his hobbies and asking about hers.
Without his noticing, as Sophia evaded his sexual teases with charm, Alistair started to relax and focus on the conversation. Soon, he had shifted on the sofa to better look at her as she told him about the last book she read. After the second bottle of Krug, he imitated Leonard during a trial and told Sophia funny stories from his younger days.
11.38 p.m.
He glided behind the steering wheel with an elegance that amazed Sophia. “Shall I show you my apartment?” I have such nice gadgets there.
Sophia schooled her expression before facing him, “Don’t we have to wake up early tomorrow to go to the zoo?”
No? Seriously? What are you? A virgin schoolgirl? “Early? No. Not really.”
“Err…” Quickly, Sophia, quickly. “Gabriela wakes up early. And I like to enjoy the mornings with her.”
Okay. Not today. Understood, Sophia. He smiled at her. “So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 10. Prepare to spend the day with me. I’ll make reservations for us at a restaurant near the zoo. It’s simple, but the food is excellent.”
After dropping her off, Alistair drove home immersed in thought.
He opened the door to his apartment and looked around.
Empty and cold.
He poured himself a glass of wine and swirled the red liquid, the dark shade of red reminding him of Sophia’s lips.
I need to fuck. That’s all. He palmed his erection and sighed. He hated to jack himself off. He picked up his phone and scrolled down to Madame Blanchet’s number, but turned it off, briskly shaking his head. He was not in the mood for an escort tonight.
He wanted her.
He needed her.
Only she would do.
He rose from the armchair in an irritated mood. I need no one. No one. Never again. Never. Again.
He didn’t want any relationships, but if this was what it would take to have her, so be it.
Let her have her way for now.
Leibowitz Oil Building.
Monday, February 22nd, 2010.
9.18 a.m.
“Oh, he has a wicked sense of humor and made me laugh all night.”
“I see,” he sighed, “but, still, Sophia, bear in mind that he’s not Gabriel. I’ll ask Mendes to do a-”
“Why?” Her forehead creased. “You didn’t suggest anything like that for Ethan.”
“You didn’t have this look of wonder on your face, either,” he smirked. “Since you first met him, whenever you hear his name you look like a teenager. Worse. You act like a teenager.”
“Well, I’m not a teenager anymore, Edward,” she snapped at him. “Stop talking nonsense.”
“Love, I’m sorry to scare you,” he replied sternly, “however this is not nonsense. He has captured your heart and if you don’t take care he is going to crush it with his bare hands.”
“Good heavens, Edward.”
He took out his iPhone from his inside suit pocket. “Let me call-”
“No.” She shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t do it.”
“Why not?” He asked, baffled. She had never had such scruples before. “It’s for your own protection.”
“And if he discovers?”
Edward shook his head, “Sophia, you know Mendes is a highly praised professional. His reports are completely confidential and he is very discreet.”
“I don’t see any reason-” She stopped at his dark look.
Edward rose from the armchair and circled her desk, reining back his temper with every step, his blue gaze holding her honey one.
“Stubborn woman,” he muttered and leaned over her iMac and typed Alistair’s full name into Google. Thousands of pages were listed. “Has he told you he is a Marquis? Heir to a dukedom?”
“No. But it doesn’t mean-”
“You aren’t dealing with Brazilians, Sophia. Here, in the UK, some families still value those things,” Edward scowled her.
“I don’t think it is the case. If it were, he would have told me from the beginning.”
“I checked his name and the coat of arms on the personal card he sent you. He’s the Marquis of Ells and his father is the Duke of Craigdale. And they have some other titles in their sleeves. Peerage of England, Scotland, and even the United Kingdom. A very traditional, powerful, and rich family. I would say they’re just below the Royal Dukes. His mother was the daughter of an English duke, too. His sister is married to a very important duke. Still doesn’t mean anything?”
“Perhaps it’s just a coincidence. After all, it is his social circle. If it were so important to him, he would have made it clear from the beginning, Edward.”
“Maybe.” Edward said then clicked on ‘images.’ The screen filled with photos, almost all of them of Alistair accompanied by beautiful women, in public appearances or taken by paparazzi. “Take a look. He doesn’t have relationships. He only has one-night stands.”
He scrolled until he found what he was looking for and clicked.
Her own image with Alistair leaving Gordon Ramsay at Claridge’s exploded in front of her eyes.
She gasped.
He slowly turned his face to look at her. He closed the photo and opened another. This time they were photographed in his car, at a red light on Kensington High Street, near her house.
Sophia felt a chill in her spine as she saw a photo of them taken during the weekend. And, what shocked her the most, the depiction of a smiling Alistair carrying Gabriela in his arms and holding Sophia’s hand, shown on a gossip blog with the headline, “Mysterious Woman Captures Elusive Alistair Connor MacCraig’s Heart.” The story described - with saucy details - the great number of women passing through Alistair’s life and how easily he disposed of them.
Sophia scrolled down, her heart beating fast in her chest. The article was full of images. All of Alistair’s dates were blonde with blue eyes.
“See what I mean, Mysterious Woman?” he sneered. “Want to see something even more interesting?” With a few more clicks, a younger Alistair appeared on the screen playing with a blonde, blue-eyed little girl in a park. It was probably a papparazzi shot.
Edward zoomed in on the girl’s face and Sophia inhaled sharply.
“Yeah! Digest that!”
“They could be sisters,” she stuttered in a small voice.
“I have been haunted by this photo ever since I first saw it.” He went back to the armchair and flung himself in it, smoothing back a blond lock that had fallen on his forehead. “Only a background check, Sophia, for Gabriela’s protection. And yours.”
“Edward, I don’t feel at all comfortable about this checking thing. He is not my competitor. This is a personal relationship.”
“Sophia,” he shook his head and sighed. “Sometimes your innocence baffles me. How can a,” his fingers made quotation marks in the air, “shrewd businesswoman be so naïve? Do you think if he were in your place he wouldn’t do it? Anyone would. Everyone does.”
Sophia bit her lip and looked at the photo again. And decided, “No, Edward. This isn’t business. I have morals and principles. Life isn’t a war.”