“Fine, thank you. And you?” Ethan shook the outstretched hand and turned to Sophia, holding both her hands in his, kissing her cheeks. “You look beautiful, Sophia, darling. As always.” Hot, Sophia. You look hot in that barely there dress.
Sophia gazed into his beautiful azure eyes and smiled. “Hello, Ethan. You’re looking good, too.” Now, go away.
“You made a donation to Prince Charles’s Foundation?”
“No,” she said at the same time that Alistair spoke, “I did. Prince Charles is my father’s friend. And, of course, my bank contributes to many foundations.”
“Of course. Don’t we all, MacCraig?” Ethan smiled at Alistair, friendly. Take your hands off her.
Fuck off. Tonight she’s mine. “We should.”
Sophia watched the silent bantering between the men and smiled inside. She felt like a teenager again.
“I arrived yesterday from India. I opened another branch of Ashford Steel there. That country is really amazing, Sophia. You should go. I was reminded of you all the time. There are spectacular saris.” And the Taj Mahal. The most beautiful testament to love. If I could, I would build one for you.
“Yes, there are.” She smiled candidly at him, “I have a long love story with India and its saris. And Felipe - my brother, remember? He brought me a suitcase full of them when he went there last year.”
“Oh. You’ve been there.”
“Yes. Three times. I love India.”
Alistair seethed. Sophia has simply… forgotten me. He lightly squeezed her shoulder.
She looked at him with a bright smile on her face, “Have you ever been, Alistair?”
“No,” he bit out.
“Are you going to the after-party at the Sanderson Hotel, Sophia?”
“No, we are not, Ashford,” Alistair growled. “If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to introduce Sophia to some of my friends.”
“A pity. Well, it’s been a pleasure seeing you again, MacCraig.” Not you, you bastard. Just Sophia. Ethan turned to Sophia and gave her a broad smile, “Sophia, darling, you are the most beautiful woman here. You should have been given the leading role in the film.” You’re my leading lady.
Sophia laughed. “Ethan, Alice is blonde.”
“Not Alice, my darling. You, you should have been the Queen of Hearts.” As you are the queen of my heart.
Alistair turned, leading her away, not giving her a chance to kiss Ethan good-bye. She waved as she tried to keep up with Alistair’s long strides.
“Hey. Slow down,” she demanded.
He stopped for a second to keep his emotions under control. He gazed at her beautiful and gullible face. Control yourself, Alistair Connor. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Come. One of my best friends is just over there in the corner.”
They did some mingling and chatting with some of Alistair’s friends until Prince Charles and Camilla arrived.
Alistair glanced at Sophia. “Do you want me to introduce you to them?”
She shook her head and stared at the royal couple, musing, “I wish I could have met Princess Diana. His Royal Highness and the Duchess of Cornwall did only one good thing in their whole lives.”
As she didn’t elaborate, he asked, intrigued, “What was that?”
“They killed any possibility of fairy tales. They showed us what real life is.” She looked deep into his eyes and faked a toast, “Prince Charming is dead. Long live the ogre.”
He chuckled.
“And, please, this is a real ogre, not the dear Shrek.” Then her eyes lit and she giggled, bit her lip to contain the mirth, and whispered, “Have you ever wanted to be a woman’s tampon?”
He exploded in a full laugh, doubling over. He shook his head at her, his black hair swinging around his face and his forest-green eyes sparkling, “No, never,” he said between whoops of amusement. He breathed deeply, struggling to regain his composure. “That was gross,” he sniggered.
She smiled broadly, glancing at Camilla. “Can you imagine? Arg! Disgusting.”
He looked at her, grinning and murmured, “Maybe that’s how he gets his kicks.”
She put a hand in front of her eyes, dramatically, “God! Please, spare us.”
Another sniffle slipped out before Sophia could stop it.
Alistair took off his 3-D glasses to squint at the woman at his side. Is she crying? Crying because of a children’s story?
His warm, large hand rested over Sophia’s. She raised the 3-D glasses, brushed her tears away, and turned her head slightly to look at Alistair with a small smile on her lips.
He tilted his head toward her and squeezed her hand. Slowly, as if afraid of startling her, he rested his free arm on her shoulders, enveloping her with his strength. His hand caressed her arm, warming her through the flimsy material of her gown.
Even in the dark, she could see the emotions churning in his eyes as his tongue wetted his lips in a move so carnal she felt as if he had licked her.
Oh, man! You’re lusting over a woman who is crying over a children’s film? You have to get your head examined. Alistair turned his attention back to the film, his control hanging by a thread as his fingers toyed with the silky hair that fell over her shoulder.
At the end of the film, Sophia shuddered violently and quickly took off the 3-D glasses. She dropped her head and put her arms around her body.
Alistair startled and glanced at her, whispering, “Are you cold?”
No. I’m a stupid woman, who’s afraid of that blue butterfly on the screen. Still looking down, she shook her head, “No.”
“Are you okay?” He gently hugged her shoulders, worried.
The film ended and Sophia tentatively peeked at the screen. The butterfly disappeared and the credits started to appear. She breathed, relieved.
“Sophia?”
She smiled softly at him, “It’s nothing. Nothing.”
He studied her now smiling face and shrugged. As soon as the lights went on, he rose and stretched his hand for her, “Shall we?”
Gauthier Soho, The Chefs’ Room.
9.40 p.m.
She looked around as she stepped into the smallest room of the restaurant in one of the cellars. The room had an intimate atmosphere. The square table could seat up to four guests, but tonight it would only seat two.
“Cozy.” She looked up to gaze at his green eyes. “I’ve never dined here.”
“I hope you like it.” He discretely pushed the waiter aside and seated her himself, brushing his fingers over her hair as he retreated. “It’s closest to the heart of the restaurant since it’s near the kitchen.”
Another waiter approached, bringing the menus.
Alistair waved his away, “I want the baby squid, please.” He turned to Sophia. “May I suggest?”
“Sure.” She closed her menu and waited.
“There is an exceptional wild sea bass with white truffles,” said Alistair. “And you ought to have the raspberry mille-feuille or the dark chocolate mousse for dessert. They are both mouthwatering.”
“So, be it.” She handed her menu back to the waiter who confirmed their orders with Alistair.
Alistair stared at Sophia’s contemplative look. She seemed far away from this world. He took the time to observe her profile illuminated by the gentle light of the cellar. He couldn’t fathom her mood.
She is too unpredictable, swinging between despondency and happiness so quickly. Remote one minute and vibrant the next. So many contradictions in such a young woman. “Did you like the film?”