“Seems that I’ll have to work hard to convince you,” he said.

“I like hard work,” she whispered with a wink.


11.35 p.m.

Sophia shuddered when she stepped out of the restaurant, “It’s cold.”

“Of course, it’s cold. It’s snowing and you haven’t put on your coat properly.” Alistair took the coat from her shoulders and made Sophia dress it, gathering her into his chest, his hands rubbing her back. “You have a problem with coats, don’t you?”

She looked up to gaze at his face, smiling. “It’s just a few seconds until your driver arrives and, besides, I love the cold,” she breathed the freezing air deeply and closed her eyes. “I love this icy air.”

When she opened her eyes again, he smiled down at her. “How can a Carioca love the cold?”

“I hate the weather in Rio. I hate the hot air, the humidity. Leibowitz Oil has a branch in Manaus. It’s the worst climate in the world. When I went there last year, I took three showers a day and felt sticky as soon as I got out. My wish was to stay in the water the whole time. Oh, it’s beautiful, unbelievably beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but in August, when the summer is in full swing there, as it’s close to the equatorial line, you feel like you’re burning in hell.”

“I don’t know Manaus or Rio. But I know you have longer summers,” he countered, “and beautiful beaches.”

She shrugged, “I don’t care very much about them. In fact, I didn’t usually go to the beach and I hate sand. I’m not a typical Carioca. But I love to scuba dive. It’s so peaceful. Just me and the fish. No sound to disturb me,” she rubbed her icy nose on his warm chest and he tightened his arms around her.

He looked away from her face and noticed his BMW drawing up to the curb, “Come, Garrick has arrived.”

She entered the car and rubbed her hands to warm them up. Alistair gave directions to Garrick and immediately took her hands in his, blew warm breath, and caressed them. He raised his eyes to hers, “You’re so soft, Sophia. Your skin fells like silk.”

Sophia’s breath hitched and she licked her lips, unsure of what to say, but Alistair wasn’t expecting a reply. He shifted on the seat facing her and fast as lightning hauled her onto his lap and dropped his head to kiss her.

She put her hand over his mouth, stopping him.

“Sophia, Sophia,” he murmured in her fingers, “you drive me crazy. Why do you resist me so much?”

“I’ve already explained, Alistair,” she whispered.

“You still have doubts? You melt in my arms, Sophia, and,” he picked her hand and put it over his erection, pressing it down, “I get harder and harder when you’re around. Just your smell makes me horny. Sleep with me tonight.”

She pulled her hand away as if seared by his arousal. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to work tomorrow morning and…” she shook her head, “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

He sighed, “I see.” Okay, Sophia, let’s play your game for now. For now.


London, near Leicester Square.

Thursday, February 25th, 2010.

6.19 p.m.

“Why did it have to rain tonight?” Sophia murmured, looking out the window. “God is very angry with someone.”

“It seems so.” Alistair glanced at her and chuckled, “You’re going to get those strange black shoes wet.”

“And you think this is funny?” she huffed. “I looked everywhere for these magnificent Philip Treacy sandals.”

“I don’t understand women,” he shook his head at her. “And this wispy thing you’re wearing can’t be warm enough.” His warm hand ran over the sheer, embroidered sleeve of her black-and-orange gown and frowned, “You’re cold.”

“More respect, Alistair Connor,” she scowled at him. “First of all, this,” she lifted one of the organza layers of her dress as he wrapped her with the pale orange shahtoosh on her lap, “is not a wispy thing. It’s a Lino Villaventura. No one is more heavenly inspired-” She halted as she glanced at his face.

He’d thinned his lips struggling to hold back his laughter, but he let out a chortle anyhow.

“What?” She looked at him, melting for the nth time that night at the sight of Alistair wearing a perfectly tailored black wool dinner suit and black trousers, slightly tapered. His white, crisp shirt adorned with exquisite emerald cufflinks and a plain black silk tie.

“Lino who?”

“Lino Villaventura. He is the best couturier in Brazil. Daring, absolutely inspiring. I’m crazy about him. And his clothes are unique and all handmade. The embroidery alone is so detailed and lovely.”

“Well, it’s certainly stunning. You are going to overshadow all the Hollywood stars.”

“And, as I was saying, well-bred women are never hot or cold. Our goal is to be beautiful. We don’t feel these mundane-”

His deep, masculine laughter filled the car. He looked at her, tried to speak but just put a hand on his flat abdomen, and laughed. He shook his head and struggled to compose himself, made a strange, strangled sound and burst into laughter again.

The more Alistair looked at Sophia’s astonished face, the more he felt like laughing. When did I laugh like this recently? The thought sobered him and he brushed his fingers over his eyes to dry the tears of laughter that had gathered there.

She watched him, completely enchanted and surprised, and she realized that he looked younger and less stern. Even though she had heard him laughing before, this was completely different. A light and special moment, he had unlocked the door to her heart. A door she thought would never open again.

Her thumb touched the corner of his mouth. “I love your laughter. It makes me want to laugh with you,” she whispered.

He smiled at her and turned his head to press a kiss on her palm. “Oh, Sophia. You’re too good to be true. Never cold? Never hot?” He chuckled, “No sweat either?” He exploded in another fit of laughter.

He was still chuckling when Garrick stopped next to the long green carpet leading into the Odeon cinema and a valet opened the door for them.

Sophia looked out and smiled at Alistair, “The rain has stopped.”


Odeon Cinema.

“Sophia!”

Sophia looked around for the voice that has just called her name. Oh. Not tonight.

“Ashford. How are you?” Alistair placed his arm around Sophia’s shoulders, trying to keep her out of his reach and held out his hand to shake Ethan’s.

“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?”