Cristiane Serruya - Trust: Betrayed

Alistair was a very proud man, but not enough to pretend that Sophia loved him the way he needed her to.

He tried a joke to soften the tension. “Were you planning to ignore me the entire flight, you stubborn woman?”

“Sorry,” Sophia murmured, realizing she had no will to ignore him. Not at all. But something inside her was insisting that she needed to understand what she had discovered.

“Do you feel better? Can I open the shades?” He touched the button to open them as she nodded. He pointed to the table by the sofa. “I brought you some tea.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and when she started to sit, Alistair’s arms immediately went around her to help her out of bed.

“I’m not going to break, you know? I’m a tough gal,” she smiled at his tender and mindful embrace.

“I know. But I like to take care of you,” he said softly, almost sadly, helping her onto the sofa and handing her the teacup.

Oh, Alistair Connor. You are breaking my heart with this sadness. What am I going to do with you? Sophia forgot about drinking her tea. Absentminded, she put the cup back on the table, staring deep into his beautiful eyes, struggling to piece that complex man together with what she had seen in his dressing room. She inhaled. His sweet vanilla scent and his familiar face clouded her senses, taking away the cold she was feeling inside since the morning.

“You are beautiful, Sophia,” he also hadn’t taken his eyes off her face and didn’t resist her parted lips, kissing her tenderly.

She almost felt like crying with the sweet tenderness of his kiss.

He cupped her face in his big hands as he rested his forehead on hers, whispering, “I love you, Sophia. Please, don’t make me wait too long.”

Atwood House, Gabriela’s bedroom.

8.25 p.m.

Alistair laid down a sleeping Gabriela on her bed and gently batted Sophia’s hand away from the coverlet, “Leave this to me.” He tugged it around the child’s small body and bent to kiss her blonde head, murmuring, “Sweet dreams, Fairy.”

They walked quietly out of the room.

Alistair hesitated in the TV room. A gut feeling told him he was not going to be invited to sleep over. “I will see myself out,” he said. “There is no need to go down with me.”

Sophia’s hand shot out to hold his.

He stopped and a light illuminated his face.

“Have dinner with me. A quick snack. I mean... If you feel-”

He stepped in her direction and rested her head on his chest, burying his nose in her hair, “Thank you.”

Sophia startled at the intensity of the feelings he put in those two words. Oh, God. What am I doing to this fierce man?

10.50 p.m.

“Good night, then.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave a little peek on his lips.

Alistair paused a moment on the threshold. “Sophia... Take your time. Think about it, please,” Alistair said in a small voice. “I don’t mind waiting for as long as it takes-”

She put a finger on his lips. “I’ll think about it. Good night. Sleep well, my dear.” She waved him good-bye and walked inside the house as Zareb closed the double doors.

Alistair closed the car door and touched the intercom, “Garrick, my place. Then pick up Tavish Uilleam at Alice’s house and take him home.”

“Yes, sir.” Garrick didn’t like his boss’s dispirited voice. Not at all. He was going to make sure that his brother knew what was happening. He decided he was not going to take Alistair home. Instead, without Alistair noticing, Garrick texted Tavish and drove over to Alice’s first.

Sophia turned to Zareb as he closed the gates. “I’ll be going out in the Mercedes in... ten minutes, I believe.”

Zareb’s eyes widened and he looked at her and back to her face. “Mrs. Leibowitz, you are not fit to drive-”

“I don’t want to disturb Steven. He is probably sleeping by now. Then, please, call me a taxi. I’m not going far.”

Zareb stiffened, clearly offended, and towered over her. His usual smiling face was stern. “Mrs. Leibowitz, I’m sorry. You are not going anywhere, driving or in a taxi. It’s not safe. You shouldn’t be alone. I will call Steven and we are taking you wherever you need.”

Sophia bit her lip. She knew Zareb was right.

However she doubted she had the courage to ask her driver and bodyguard to take her to a sex shop.

Alistair MacCraig’s Apartment.

11.14 p.m.

And with that, the stubborn, unmanageable woman waved me good-bye and walked inside. It seems ages ago. I need her back. I want to be back at her house. I want to rip off her clothes and fuck her until she knows - and I know - she’s still mine. Only mine. Alistair pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind. He couldn’t allow his desire to rule his actions. Not now.

She was so pale and I’m sure it wasn’t only from the pain. He worried about what had happened; everything had been going so smoothly. She said she needed time to think, right, but then... Fuck! Stop thinking about the past and get on with some plan to make her realize you are the one for her.

“Alistair Connor? Is everything all right?” Tavish cocked his head. Alistair hadn’t uttered a single word on the ride over. When Tavish asked if he needed company Alistair just nodded vaguely.

Alistair didn’t even hear his brother’s question.

“Alistair Connor.” Tavish’s call came to him through a haze of confusion, passion and fear, all mixed together. “Alistair Connor! Snap out of it! What are you staring at?”

“The...” Awkwardly, Alistair cleared his throat and helplessly glanced around. “The paintings.”

Tavish looked at him through squinted eyes.

“What?” He looked at his whisky and noticed that he hadn’t drunk it. He gulped it down in a single toss.

“I can never remember, are the pupils larger when someone’s drunk or smaller?”

“Drunk? I am not drunk!”

“Then you’re on drugs. You’re staring at the fucking paintings like you’re aroused.” He rose a mocking eyebrow. “At least I hope you’re on something, otherwise we have bigger problems than I thought.”

Alistair didn’t feel like answering. He felt like brooding. He stood up and paced the room.

Tavish sat down, resting his face on his palm, and observed his brother as he raked a hand through his long hair. He understood that jokes weren’t going to make Alistair talk.

“All right. Spill, Alistair Connor. You look even more worried now than you did on the plane.”

“I am,” he agreed, grabbing the bottle of whisky. He kicked Tavish out of his favorite armchair and slouched in it. “I’m an asshole, Tavish Uilleam.”

“Oh, man. This is new.” Tavish laughed. “I never thought I’d agree with you a hundred percent.” Tavish sat in front of Alistair. “You are, Alistair Connor. You’re a huge asshole.”

“Shut up. It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it then,” he chuckled.

“I think I lost her.” The words left Alistair’s mouth without permission.

“Jesus!” Tavish sat upright on the armchair. “How?”

I don’t know. And if my suspicions are right I can’t tell you. “And you know what’s worse... I... truly don’t know why. I’m afraid, Tavish Uilleam.” He suddenly understood his loss, deeply, and it squeezed the air from his chest. There was a scared look in his eyes that would surprise those who saw only the hard, blunt surface that he showed the world.

“Why?”

“She’s driving me mad. She is cold and barely civil with me-”

“You are talking about Sophia, right? Your Sophia? Cold? Uncivil?” Tavish shook his head. “Impossible, she’s a dear.”

“Oh, aye, she is. A dear, an angel, a beauty, a goddess. Everything. Anything.” He ran a hand over his face, gulped down his whisky. “I proposed,” he sighed deeply, “and she refused.”

To his credit, Tavish did not swear, nor did he laugh. He merely stared at Alistair as if he had just announced that the world would end in the next minute.

“I beg your pardon?” Tavish was speechless, confused by Alistair’s action and Sophia’s response. “What happened? From the beginning, please.”

“That’s not so bad, is it? Asking for time to think?” Alistair asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m in love with her, Tavish Uilleam. Crazy in love. Insanely in love.”

“As if she weren’t too.” Thoughts were again starting to form coherently in Tavish’s mind. “She looks at you with adoration in her eyes. Both of them do actually. Sophia and Gabriela.” He shook his head, “I don’t get it... Maybe she just needs some time. To digest what she’s remembered.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” Come on, Alistair Connor. Man up and talk to your brother. He gives good advice. Alistair opened his mouth and closed it again. No. Wait.

“So what is it then?”

“I don’t know,” Alistair shook his head disheartened and repeated quietly, “I don’t know.”

London, On the way to Soho.

11.31 p.m.

Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Sophia mulled over the last months of her life.

In truth, she was caught completely off guard by Alistair’s proposal. It filled her with hope, elation, and a fear so deep she choked on it. Everything she wanted was right there at her fingertips. She could take it and know he offered it truly. The memory of what she saw in his dressing room flooded her mind and she remembered the times Alistair had asked for the pain and violence thing.

Even without the proposal, am I ready to continue in a relationship where I know nothing about the man I have been with for months?