Cristiane Serruya - Trust: Betrayed

For a long time, they didn’t speak, merely held each other.

Alistair’s body was wrung out with physical satisfaction, his mind fogged and sluggish. But his heart was bursting with so much joy that he needed to voice his feelings, “I love you so much that I think I’m going mad.”

“If this is madness,” amusement could be heard in Sophia’s voice, “take me to the asylum.”

He chuckled and replied, “I don’t think I can make it right now. Maybe later.”

She laughed quietly, and the vibrations rippled through her body into his.

“I could stay here forever,” he added, almost to himself.

She lifted her head and gave him a mischievous look. “Forever? How many wicked plans do you have?”

You have no idea. “Did you really want me to never contact you, Sophia? Did you really think I would stay put and let you go?” he murmured.

“No. No,” she whispered on his lips, spreading gentle kisses on his face. “I was ashamed and afraid. Afraid of what you would think. Afraid that my dark secrets would poison you. Us. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you enough.”

“Promise me you’ll never do that again. Promise me you will trust me no matter what.”

“I do. I promise.”

She stood up and went to the bathroom, returning later with a moist towel for him.

He had already opened the coverlet and settled himself on the pillows. He wiggled his fingers at her.

She crawled over his body, sighing contented. Caressing his nipple with her finger, she whispered, “I love your chest.”

He threw the towel on the floor and smiled, asking teasingly, “Only my chest?”

She chuckled and her hand glided down over his flat abdomen and held his now flaccid penis in her hand, “This too. All of you.”

His smile just broadened as he stretched, sated and happy.

Should I ask? Courage, Sophia. “Alistair Connor?” Oh, God.

“Hmm?”

Her courage deserted her. Don’t spoil the mood, Sophia. Come up with something! “Well... I...” Quickly! “Hmm, now that I have you completely, I have a confession to make... My breasts are not original.”

Uh? He smiled, frowning amused at her, “Come again?”

She laid back and raised her right arm, showing him a faint scar under her armpit. “I breastfed Gabriela for eight months and, my, she was a hungry baby.” She half-smiled fond of the memories and, at the same time, saddened by them. “Afterwards, I had plastic surgery and put in implants.” It’s important. Say it.

His eyebrows rose high as he pushed up on an elbow to look at her. His hand held her breast, “Really? Mmm,” he smiled naughtily. “So, could you get bigger ones?”

“Maybe. Depends on your behavior,” she giggled nervously and hid her face again on his neck. Come on, Sophia.

He curled his fingers under her chin and lifted her face. “But that wasn’t what you were going to say, was it, Sophia?”

She bit her lip and shook her head, lowering her lids.

Oh, Christ! What comes next? “Look at me, Sophia. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

She raised on her elbow and looked up into his forest green eyes. “Kids,” the small word, softly whispered, was a glass breaking in the silent room.

Fuck. Fuck! “I see,” he breathed deeply and tried to sit, but she wouldn’t allow him to move.

“No. Don’t get away from me.” She combed his hair with her fingers while she explained her idea. “Listen to me. I’d love to have one more child. Maybe with a donor, maybe an adoption. I don’t really care. But I don’t want Gabriela to grow up as my only child. I need to know if you are okay with that.”

He concurred with a nonchalant, “Hm-hmm.”

Sophia felt empowered and decided to drop all her bombs. “And also...” she breathed deep. “Also, I want to continue living at Atwood House.”

He stiffened. He looked into her eyes for what seemed an unnervingly long moment. “How,” he inquired, his voice steely calm, “do you imagine I would feel living in the house you bought with Gabriel’s money? Knowing that our home was paid for by him?”

Instantly, she saw her mistake. She saw it in his darkened green eyes, in the pride that flashed in their depths.

She shifted closer to his warmth. “I... don’t know. It’s...” It’s because it would make me happy? Ugh! No, too selfish. Because it’s a beautiful house I built over many months of work? No. Worse. And stupid.

“Make an effort. Put yourself in my shoes.” His voice had dropped to a gravelly purr. Would you have moved in with me to where Heather had lived?

Inwardly cringing, Sophia cupped his face running her thumbs over his clenched jaw, which slightly softened at the caress. “It’s my money. I bought it. I did the refurbishment. Atwood House is my house, and Gabriela’s too. She loves it there. Her bedroom. The garden. The pond. Everything. You can make it our home. You can pay for all the expenses. You can make all the changes you want.” She felt as he gradually relaxed. “I want you-”

He put a finger on her lips and murmured, “I’ll think about it. With tender care.” I can’t deny you anything, can I? Besides, it’s not so unreasonable.

“Thanks.” She kissed his lips. “We have to tell Gabriela.”

“Mm-hmm. Later.” His finger tips trailed down her arm and he entwined his hands with hers. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered drowsily.

As Sophia closed her eyes in slumber, she knew that her heart was not hers anymore. After a few minutes, she was deeply asleep.

Alistair’s gaze roamed over her gently flushed face and her reddened lips. Caressing her slim back, he looked at the skyline. The sun was setting behind the snow capped mountains and the whole scenery was tinted in teeming colors almost as if a rainbow graced the entire sky.

Alistair’s heart beat lighter as he stared back at the woman sleeping on his chest.

For the first time in many years, he allowed himself to feel hope.

Los Cauquenes Resort & Spa.

Saturday, April 10^th, 2010.

9.35 a.m.

Alistair raised his eyebrows at Sophia’s and Gabriela’s small suitcases, which the bellboy was taking to their waiting car. “Is this it?”

She shrugged, “It was just a few days and I left my other clothes in Rio.”

“You’re a piece of work,” he whispered, shaking his head, amazed. “I have never seen a woman travel with so little. Are you sure you don’t have OCD?”

“As if you weren’t organized too,” she jutted her chin to his small luggage.

“I’m a man,” he said dismissively, as an explanation.

She sighed dramatically, “You’re incorrigible.”

He chuckled, “That’s why I’m marrying you.”

Right. I know. “Indeed,” she mocked.

Gabriela came down to meet them, bouncing lightly between Edward and Felipe. She was wearing a lovely pink wool dress with a white sash. Her long blonde hair was tied in pigtails and held by white silk ribbons. She threw herself in Alistair’s open arms.

“Good morning, Alistair.” She kissed and hugged him. “Are you looking forward to going to the beach?”

He smiled at her and put her back on the ground. “Only if you take me, Fairy.”

“I will. Promise.” She jogged to the car where Maria and Zareb were waiting.

“Ready for the jungle?” Edward asked Alistair.

“Good Lord, Edward. You’re going to scare him like that.” Felipe smacked his hand on his forehand. “Don’t listen to Edward. He-”

“Yes, don’t listen to him,” interrupted Sophia, her gaze distant. “In the jungle, you know the rules. In Brazil, you don’t.”

Rio de Janeiro, Ipanema. Fasano Hotel, Fitness Club.

12 p.m.

“WHAT?!” Ethan lost his composure for a split second. He smiled apologetically at the surprised woman on the other treadmill and pushed the stop button, getting off.

He accepted a towel from the personal trainer, drying his face and grabbed a bottle of water. He exited the fitness center, emerging by the rooftop infinity pool, and dropped into one of the comfortable reclining chairs. He lowered his tone, “Are you sure, Scott? When?”

He looked at Christ the Redeemer, the huge statue atop the Corcovado Mountain, when a sharp pain made his eyes tear. The view was lost on Ethan as he felt nauseated by Sophia’s betrayal.

She’s going to marry MacCraig. MacCraig.

The thought turned his stomach and he drew in a gulp of air. He ended the call after giving Scott some instructions and headed for his room with angry and firm steps.

London, Chiswick. The Ashford’s Mansion.

Friday, April 13^th, 1979.

11.27 a.m.

Calista’s eyes popped open and she wriggled her perfect, small nose in disgust, when the childish giggles mingled with the zen music her brawny masseur had put on before he started.

“Relax.” Adam, her therapist, kneaded her shoulders more firmly.

She sighed and closed her azure eyes just to open them angrily when, five minutes later, Ethan’s piercing shriek followed his happy laughter.

“That’s it,” she said, sitting up, her lilting accent pronounced. “Adamos, call that horrible brat here. Now,” she ordered as she got down from the massage bed and put on her silk robe. “He can’t give me a moment’s peace.”

“Calista, honey-”

“NOW!”

Adam turned to obey, with a grimace on his lips. He hated to see the way that selfish, pampered and promiscuous woman treated her sweet, gentle son.