“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.”