“You do have a temper, don’t you?” He laughed when she punched him in the arm, after putting the 1945 Mouton-Rothschild in its place.

“Try me.” She reached for the bottle she had chosen first, leaving the cellar.

Back in the kitchen, she put the bottle on the island. She put an opener and a crystal-and-silver decanter next to the bottle. “Here, help me or I won’t feed you.”

“Are you threatening me?” He snatched her to him and his arms circled her in a tight hug. He spoke so near her lips, she could feel him breathing. “Feed me or I will not pleasure you again. Your decision.” His beautiful green eyes held an inscrutable expression.

“That’s your problem,” she dismissed his warning, not at all afraid of the big man looming over her. “You lose on both counts.” She kissed him, “You’ll starve,” kissing him again, “for food,” another kiss, “and for me.”

He eased his stance and embraced her as she playfully kissed him, dismissing her ultimatum. “Witch.” Giving her butt a loud and heavy swat. She yelped. Aye, Beauty. First lesson. He grinned at her and turned to open the bottle. “Why do you have so many expensive bottles of wine in your cellar?”

“Because.”

“Sophia.”

“Oh, yes, I remember. That’s not an answer,” she restated his words and searched in her cupboard for the pot she needed. She filled it with water and put it on the stove. “I love wine, those are considered the best. I bought them.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Isn’t that enough?”

He poured just a bit of wine for each of them and let the rest breathe in the decanter. “Indeed. A good answer. I missed the foot stomping on the floor.” His lips curled up slightly and he handed the crystal glass to her. “A toast,” he prompted, “to you, the most beautiful and intelligent woman I’ve ever met.”

“To you, an intriguing man, and to us,” she replied and drank the wine. To us, an uncertainty.

“To us, may we together create a new path in life.” He hardened just imagining the things he would teach her.

“To… A new beginning,” she smiled at him. Then she remembered, “The foot stomping?”

“Yes. Just like children do.”

She looked at him, bewildered. “What?”

“You know, children stomp their feet when-” He laughed, lowering, as she hurled the dishcloth at him. Hmm. And now, Alistair Connor?

The doorbell rang, saving her from his counterattack.

“Are you expecting someone?” he frowned.

“Yes. I’ll be right back.” Sophia went to the back door. “Don’t move.”

Fuck. I’ve never been ordered around before. He rolled his broad and muscular shoulders and his neck. Relax, Alistair Connor. She’s worth it. He could hear her moving around the back of the house and speaking with someone.

“Who was it?” he asked when Sophia returned to the kitchen with a mischievous grin and a white plastic bag in her hand.

She didn’t answer and demanded, “Close your eyes.”

“Who was it, Sophia?”

“Never mind. Close your eyes. Please,” she asked again, approaching him with a sexy and mischievous expression on her face.

“I don’t know if I should,” he teased, but closed his eyes. He heard the sound of plastic rustling and felt as her long soft fingers held up his hand and, turning it over, put a small box on his palm.

“Open your eyes,” Sophia softly said, still holding his hand. On it was a pack of condoms.

“How…” He shook his head, bewildered.

“I have my ways. Come on, let’s eat before this pasta becomes mushy.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the table.

She added the chopped items, put the pasta in, and stirred again. After a few minutes, she picked up a bowl and put everything inside.

Sophia went to the table with the steaming bowl, served the pasta for them, and sat in front of him. “There’s some Grana Padano Riserva, if you want.”

He put some of the cheese on his pasta and handed her the bowl. She looked anxiously at him while he tried the pasta.

“Mmm,” he closed his eyes, savoring it. “This is very good.”

“So, you approve of me as a cook?”

He flashed a grin at her, “You’re approved, period.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “Where did you learn how to cook?”

“When I studied in Lausanne. I told you, remember? A Cordon Bleu teacher taught one of the extra classes. He called it Cordon Bleu pour les jeunes. Can you imagine a bunch of teenage girls in a kitchen?” She smiled, “It was one of the best classes. He had a funny way of teaching and kept us all interested in the difficult art of Cordon Bleu. But pasta is very easy. One day I’ll cook something more elaborate for you.”

“But surely, you don’t cook usually. Your nails give you away.”

“No, I don’t cook every day. But after that year in Lausanne, I improved my skills at home. When I got married I made it a habit to cook at least once a week for Gabriel,” the last word she barely whispered.

He interlaced his finger in hers. “Did you know you could make a fortune with the wines you have? There are specialized investment funds that trade on wine.”

“What would I do with more money?” She sighed in disbelief. “Money is also for spending, Alistair. I work a lot. I can afford some extravagances.”

“Do you like being in Gabriel’s shoes?” He perused her face, seriously. “As far as I know, you relinquished your career as a successful lawyer to run his company.”

“I don’t run his company. I just give the last opinion on matters that are more important. And, well, life didn’t leave me much choice. It was never a question of what I wanted to do, but what I had to do. I did what was right. But, you know,” she drank her wine and tilted her head to side, in thought. “I never thought I’d have what it takes to fully understand and manage such an enormous and complicated organization. It seems that I do. At the beginning, the employees didn’t have much faith in me, but gradually I showed them I could do it. I have to thank Edward for all I’ve achieved in the last year. More than a business partner, he has been a great friend and companion.”

“Edward. Davidoff?” As she nodded, he frowned and enquired, “He was Gabriel’s partner?”

“No. But Gabriel trusted him. He started as a trainee and rose by his own merit to the position of CEO. I gave him five percent when I inherited Leibowitz and he has been a great help to me.”

He gapped at her.

“What?”

“You gave away five percent of Leibowitz Oil?” He couldn’t believe his ears. “Beauty, if you had given any other man five percent of Leibowitz Oil, he would have laid on the floor for you to step on with your stilettos.”

“Maybe you’re right, but I didn’t need a doormat. I needed a trustworthy friend and a great CEO to support me. And before you say that I’ve done a senseless and stupid thing, hear my reasons.” She raised a hand and started to count, “First, he worked for Gabriel for more than seventeen years. Second, Gabriel trusted him. Third, I already knew him and his work, and I liked what I knew. Fourth, I was utterly alone in a strange country and needed someone by my side. And last, most importantly, my instincts said he was the man who would help me through it.” She drank more wine and handed him her empty glass for more.

Gabriel, Ashford, Davidoff. How many men are a part of your life, Sophia? “Instincts? You do business based on instincts?”

“No.”

“Thank Chr-”

“I do everything in life based on my instincts. It is the first thing that guides me. If my instincts say no, I say no. It doesn’t matter how many reasons there are for me to say yes. It drove Gabriel crazy,” she laughed. “Edward, at first, didn’t trust my opinions, either.”

“And now?”

“He’s learned that, although strange, it works well.”

“No kidding,” he frowned.

“For example, the contract I signed with your bank. I didn’t trust Wales. Turned out I was right.” She shrugged. “Haven’t you ever had a feeling you shouldn’t do something? Or that a person is worth trusting, contrary to all proof?”

“No, not really.” He finished his pasta. “Is that how you used to decide on your pro bono work?”

“Want more?”

He shook his head. She took their plates, rinsed them, and stashed them in the dishwasher. “I only accepted cases when I believed in what the person was telling me. Either guilty or innocent. And that is the way all the lawyers at my foundation are directed to do as well. Of course, if the evidence is too strong against the person, I couldn’t do magic.” She covered the bowl of pasta with plastic film and put it in the refrigerator. “Contrary to Leonard’s beliefs, I’m not a witch.”

He smiled at this. “I think you have a book of spells and a caldron hidden somewhere. What does your instinct say about me? Innocent or guilty?”

“It says I should trust you,” she answered sincerely. “Dessert? There’s a banana cake that I usually heat up, or ice cream. Or chocolate? Pierre Marcolini. The same I gave your father the weekend of Tavish’s birthday.”

“Chocolate.” He scowled at her, “Innocent or guilty?”

“Bring the wine, will you?” She didn’t answer and exited the kitchen with the pack of condoms in her hand. “Come. Or I get to choose the film,” she shouted from the stairs.

He didn’t move from his chair.

What had started as a joke unexpectedly turned into something serious.

Why isn’t she answering? He wanted, no, needed to know her opinion. He ran after her, the decanter in his hand.

“Sophia.”

“Please, choose the film.” She didn’t look up from where she hunched near the small fridge. “I have champagne truffles, marzipan, or dark chocolate-seventy percent-for grown-ups,” she pointed to a beautiful big black box by her feet with the number sixteen stamped on it, and her lips curled up, teasing, “or milk for the kids. Or,” she grabbed a different box, “macaroons. Which do you prefer?”