“Thank you, Baptist,” Alistair rose from his chair, “I will transfer the funds as agreed.”

“Mr. MacCraig, it has been a pleasure doing business with you as usual.” They shook hands. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out more.”

Alistair closed the door to his office and moved to one of the sofas of his office, drumming his fingers restlessly against the polished wooden surface of the side table, intrigued as much by the elusiveness of the woman as by his strange reactions to her.

As a CEO and majority shareholder of one of the biggest banks in the UK, he wielded a great deal of power. He owed his position entirely to his exceptionally sharp and quick mind, dispassionate observation of strategy, and ability to crush his and others’ feelings during any business transaction. Very few things moved him beyond his family.

In his entire life, the only time he let his feelings control him and relinquished his heart, he’d been betrayed and had lost the most important person in his life.

He opened the file again and turned to the last page-”Mysterious Woman Captures Elusive Alistair Connor MacCraig’s Heart.”

His bitter laugh echoed in the room. I have no heart. Not anymore. It is buried six feet under with Nathalie.

The tip of his left index finger traced the contour of Sophia’s face in the photograph. She was so different from the women he was used to going out with.

First of all, a brunette. And too young, too intelligent, too gentle and too… innocent. He mused on his choice of words. He shook his head hard. This is pure lust. It’s her resistance that beguiles me. It’s her control. It defies me. It’s her lack of fear that challenges me.

At Nathalie’s grave, he had made a promise never to let his lack of control allow his lust command him again. A growl filled his chest as he let go his wrath. Never more. Never.

He picked up the phone and dialed her number. Let’s finish this, once and for all. He tapped his finger on the table impatiently as he waited.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Leibowitz, please,” he almost barked.

“Who is calling?”

“Alistair Connor MacCraig,” he answered and breathed deep, struggling with his emotions.

“Just a minute, please, Mr. MacCraig.”

Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake sounded on phone.

He smiled.

And he frowned. Fuck, Alistair Connor. She’s driving you to obsession.

“Hello?” Sophia tried to sound nonchalant but her heart beat faster and her voice was breathless and husky.

“Sophia, it’s Alistair Connor. How are you?”

“Alistair, what a surprise.” Surprise? Here you go again, acting like an idiot, Sophia.

He chuckled inside but just said, “Sophia, on Thursday I’m supposed to go to the royal première of Alice in Wonderland at Leicester Square. You could go with me.”

She creased her brow in wonder. Is this an invitation or an order? “Oh,” Oh? Sophia, you are finishing a PhD. Can’t you do better? She breathed deeply, “Yes, that would be delightful, Alistair. Thank you. What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at six sharp. It’s black-tie.”

“Okay,” she answered.

“And tonight? Are you free?”

Sophia looked at her Crazy Hours watch. Nine fifteen in the evening! He wants to go out? Sophia, Sophia, just say no. Not today. “Err… I’m sorry. I have a contract to revise and Gabriela usually wakes up early.” Terrible, just terrible.

“Have you eaten?” he insisted. “We can have a quick dinner, somewhere.”

You are persistent, aren’t you, Alistair Connor? “Well, honestly, I was… I haven’t yet-”

“I’m picking you up in fifteen minutes, then,” he succinctly informed her.

Uh? Are you? In fifteen minutes? “Alistair, it’s snow-” she started and he interrupted her again.

“Sophia, get dressed. Something simple. I’ll make reservations on my way to your house. Kensington Place. Have you been there?”

Get dressed? Is this another order? “A long time ago, but-”

“It’s five minutes from your place. I’ll pick you up with Garrick. Inform the gates, please. See you in fifteen,” he finished the call.

Alistair looked at the wireless telephone in his hand. “Fuck!”

He controlled his impulse to throw the phone through the window and put it deliberately slowly in its cradle. He picked up his coat and shook his head at himself as he locked his office and went to the elevators. He was losing his mind over a woman.

Sophia frowned at the phone in her hand. What the hell?


9. 25 p.m.

Sophia discarded another dress on the armchair and turned to the trousers, biting her lip.

Something simple.

Something. Simple.

She grabbed a pair of black jeans but threw them on the armchair too. He’s coming from the office and wearing his suit. Oh, damn. I’ve never been this undecided. She glanced at the trousers again. Yes, that’s it. She decided on black wool trousers with suspenders and a short red jacket and black platform ankle boots. Okay. Now… She twirled and looked at her tops and sweaters. Yes, my white turtleneck.

She dressed in haste, brushed her hair again, put on just a touch of mascara, and then some perfume. She looked in the mirror and smiled at the flushed woman with gleaming eyes staring back at her. She pivoted, happily.

She pinned her Nereid clip on her jacket, put on one of Gabriel’s Rolex watches, and checked her diamond earring studs. You look nice, Sophia.

She grabbed her black purse and her black overcoat. A male voice sounded in the room, “Mrs. Leibowitz, there’s a BMW at the street gate waiting for permission to enter. Security says it’s Mr. MacCraig.”

Oh, damn. I forgot to inform them.

She pressed the button and answered, “Thanks, Devon. Let his car in and direct it to the garden gates. I’ll be down in a sec.”

It was pouring when Sophia exited by the side door. Devon accompanied her to Alistair’s car, opening the door for her.

Sophia entered the car and Devon closed the door.

She turned to look at Alistair.

And her breath caught in her throat.

Oh. My. How am I going to resist this god?

He wore a navy three-piece suit opened to show a waistcoat fit nicely over his flat stomach, a purple damask tie, and a starched white shirt.

Perfect. Her heartbeats spiked to a thousand per second.

“You look beautiful, Sophia,” his deep voice and his light kiss on her lips made her even more breathless.

“Hi,” she answered and cleared her throat. Oh, please, stop melting. “I’m sorry I forgot to inform the gates you were coming.”

“It’s okay,” he waved his large hand dismissing her neglect. “I hope you like seafood.”

“I love seafood.”

“Kensington Place serves very good fish. It’s all fresh and very high quality. They also have a good Bordeaux,” Alistair rolled his shoulders, trying to ease away some of his tension. “It’s nice and simple. I eat there frequently.”

She cocked her head and took a real look at his face. There were thin lines around his slightly narrowed eyes. She lifted her hand to touch his temple, “You look stressed. Is everything okay?”

His hand covered hers, pressed it to his face, and he inhaled her perfume. No, Sophia, it is not. I feel… tied in knots and you are the cause. “Aye, it is,” his eyes burrowed into hers. “I’m… just disappointed. I was waiting for some news that didn’t come.” And you keep eluding me. I don’t know who you really are.

“Oh.” She caressed his face with her fingertips. “I’m sorry.”

A ghost of a smile turned his lips upward, “Don’t be. I’ll discover what I need. In due time.” He turned his face to kiss her inner wrist and entwined his fingers in hers.

“You are cocky, aren’t you? Vanity is a sin, Alistair Connor.” Mr. I’m-so-handsome-and-powerful-and-I-know-it. This nickname is getting too big.

He smiled at her remark, “I’m not vain. I just know my strengths.”

“And you like to brag about them.”

His hand dived into her hair and he bent to lightly kiss her lips, saying, “I like you, Sophia.”


They stopped at 201 Kensington Church Street and Alistair touched the intercom, “Garrick, I’ll call you when we finish. Don’t bother getting out. I have an umbrella with me.” He opened the door, the umbrella and got out of the car. He reached his hand to help Sophia get out of the car. He put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to his body, sheltering her from the pouring rain as they walked up to the restaurant.

“Mr. MacCraig, ma’am, good evening,” the manager came immediately to the door to take their coats and Alistair’s umbrella giving them to the receptionist. “We’re having such wretched weather tonight, aren’t we? I’ve reserved your usual table, sir.”

They were directed to a table in the corner and the manager pulled it out so Sophia could sit on the sofa, near the wall. Alistair slid in next to her, his thigh touching hers as he shifted closer.

“We’ll have the Chateau Client and still water,” Alistair informed the manager. And looked at Sophia, “What do think of grilled king prawns as a starter?”

“Sure.”

“So, six grilled prawns to start with,” he ordered and turned to Sophia as the manager left and put his arm over the back of the sofa. “How is Gabriela?”

Sophia’s mouth opened in a broad grin, “Fine, thank you. You do have a way with children. She likes you a lot. And that’s no easy achievement. She’s shy and normally distrusts men.”