What do you think? “Not, really.” Aye, it’s an everyday achievement to marry a woman like Sophia.

Cheer up, Ashford. Don’t show your feelings. “You lucky bastard.” He eyed Alistair with a smile on his worn face. “You take care of her.”

“I will, believe me,” Alistair answered, with a smile on his lips. Fuck, Ashford. Why do you insist on hounding Sophia? “By the way, thanks for the painting. Sophia loved it.” You son of a bitch. Now she will remember you every time she looks at that fucking painting. He raised an eyebrow. “It was a wild guess, if I may say.”

Wild guess? You still don’t know your bride’s tastes? “On the contrary. I know that you and Sophia like art. So I thought a painting would be a great gift.” His voice had a tone of longing. She loved it when she saw it the first time we made love. “You decided to marry quite hastily, no?” Is she pregnant?

“Do you think?” Alistair looked again at the Patek Phillip Sky Moon Tourbillion Sophia had given him as a wedding gift. Christ! Eleven thirty. It’s almost time. He raked his hand through his hair nervously and looked at the closed doors of the castle. “Well, thanks again. It was very generous of you.”

So clueless, MacCraig. Ethan gazed seriously at Alistair. “Sophia is the one who is generous and special. She deserves the best life can bring her. Again, I wish you happiness.” Make her unhappy and you’ll rue the day you were born.

Sophia is the key to my happiness. Alistair watched with a frown as Paola and a dispirited Ethan walked to the chapel, sitting on the third pew. A thought struck his heart as an arrow. That’s what losing Sophia does to a man. Ruination.

England, Oxfordshire. Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons.


Saturday, July 15th, 1996.


9.39 p.m.

Le Manoir was set in a fifteenth century old manor house with its own extensive grounds close to the center of Oxford. The gorgeously appointed gardens and meticulously maintained manor house had all of Ethan’s closest friends and teachers gasping from the moment they came into view as they arrived for the party Niarchos was throwing to celebrate Ethan’s graduation with First Class Honors.

The wood paneled private dining room, La Belle Époque, bustled with laughter and crystal clinging.

Niarchos ate the delicate Scottish langoustine tartare and observed with a sharp eye the expertly orchestrated service, refilling wine glasses and serving the entrées. Everything was exactly the way he had requested.

Plots and subplots formed in Niarchos’s mind as the evening passed and he observed Ethan and his guests and reviewed his plans to turn his grandson into one of the most important and influent men in the world.

At twenty-three, Ethan was very different from the thin, wide-eyed, depressed teenager that had arrived in Greece. No one would be able to overlook Ethan now. He had polished himself into a handsome and confident man.

“Grandpa,” Ethan approached Niarchos, who was smoking a cigar in the inner garden.

Niarchos smiled, proud of his grandson, the most special person in his life. “Where is your girlfriend?”

“She has already retired.”

“This place is amazing, isn’t it?” Niarchos dragged on his Cuban cigar.

“Yes, everyone was impressed. With the hotel, the gardens. With the superb food.”

“First impressions count, Ethan. Remember that every day.”

Ethan nodded and shoved his hands in the pockets of his tailored trousers. “I want to thank you, Grandpa.” There was a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. A lingering hurt still made it difficult for him to thank his grandfather. “For my studies and for this party. Thank you. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Ethan. Everything I own is yours.” Niarchos lounged on the bench with an expression of pleased speculation, puffing a cloud of smoke in the warm air. “Have you thought about my offer?”

Ethan rocked back in his heels. “Yes, I did. The thing is, Grandpa, I’d love to study more. Maybe-”

“Well, my son, there are opportunities that can’t be missed. And this is one of them.” Niarchos looked intently at the burning end of his cigar, the orange flaring in the night. “Aside from excelling in the academic world, which you already have by graduating brilliantly, you have to make your way in the business world.”

Ethan had a feeling he wasn’t going to like where this was going, but waited for his grandfather to get to the point.

“Look, Ethan, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re wasting your time here. You’re my heir, to a multimillion fortune, and you’re very obstinate at everything you put your mind to, so I’m sure you’ll succeed in business. Your bank account has been replenished. I’ve bought you a nice penthouse in Park Lane and there’s a brand new Ferrari waiting for you in the garage.”

He’s bribing me. Ethan sat on the bench beside his grandfather. He looked up at the dark sky that mirrored his sinking mood. Is that the only way to get people to do what we want? Can money buy everything?

Niarchos went on, “I’m an old man and I don’t have many years. I-”

“Don’t say that, Grandpa,” Ethan gasped and his heart clenched at the idea of being alone in the world. Niarchos was his only family, his only friend, the only person he could confide in, despite what had happened. He didn’t need reality slapping him in the face.

Niarchos smiled gently. “Ethan, I love you more than anything in the world. Let me use my last years to make a difference in your life. You can’t waste your precious life hiding behind books and your studies.”

Ethan frowned, confused at those words. “By hiding do you mean that I’m not living my life? I love to study. It’s one of the things that give me most pleasure.”

Niarchos shook his head. “This is commendable and beautiful, Ethan. However, to succeed in life you have to be ruthless. Shyness and beguiling ways only incites predators.”

For some reason, that statement rubbed him raw. “Are you saying that by being who I am I provoked what happened in my life?” With Calista? With Eve? I’m no more guilty than you, Grandpa.

Tension rippled between them.

Niarchos glanced at Ethan before putting a soothing hand over his fist. “I could have spoken with more care, but that would not change the heart of the problem, my son.”

So, I have to bend to your will again. Many seconds passed in silence before Ethan unclenched his hands. He drew a long breath, summoning reason back into his mind. Any enjoyment he’d had during dinner had trickled away. “All right, Grandpa. Tell me your plans.” This is the last time, Grandpa. No one is going to order me around again. I’m going to best you so I can do whatever I want.

Niarchos glanced at him, surprised by his lack of enthusiasm. “In life, things are not as we like them to be, but as they should be. With money and power, come enormous responsibilities. Responsibilities with your employees, those who depend on you, with your legacy and finally, the ones you love. We are not free to do what we want anymore. Each step has to be measured and planned. You have to understand this. I can’t let you waste yourself. Rest assured I’m doing this for your own good, Ethan.”

Airgead Airgead Caisteal.


Saturday, August 7th, 2010.


11.50 a.m.

Mull of Kintyre played by bagpipers, drums and the orchestra made Alistair’s heart stop beating for a second and rush into a loud gallop.

He stood there, rooted to the ground, having forgotten what he was supposed to do.

“Brother.” In a second, Tavish was beside him, whispering, “Don’t you dare faint on us. Come on, breathe.”

Fuck, Alistair Connor. Don’t be missish. He inhaled loudly. “I need a whisky.”

Leonard appeared on Alistair’s other side and waved for a waiter, grabbed a glass of whisky and shoved it in his hand. “Come on, Alistair. Drink. Before you pass out like a girl in the middle of your wedding.”

“I hope he does faint. This way I can marry Sophia in his place.” Tavish winked at Leonard.

Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward and drank it all in a gulp, shaking his head as it burned all the way to his stomach.

“You have the rings?” Leonard asked to distract him.

Alistair nodded and patted his sporran as he watched the guests taking their places.

“Do you need to sit?” Tavish’s voice showed his concern.

Aye. “Nae,” Alistair cleared his throat, “no. There is no need. Let’s do this.”

“Yeah, let’s do this.” Leonard snorted, adjusting the sleeves of his gray single-breasted morning coat.

“It’s a great sacrifice to marry Sophia,” Tavish smirked and pushed Alistair toward Alice at the end of the catwalk. “Take your place.”

Alice, in a dark-green tiffany dress by Marquesa, was stunning. Her long red hair was arranged in a simple ponytail under a scandalous Beetlejuice inspired hat with feathers by Philip Treacy. She complemented the ensemble with a marvelous emerald necklace and matching earrings. “Ready, brother?”

“Aye,” he murmured, determined.

“I don’t think so.” She grinned at him, her face full of mischief, signaling for the pipers to stop and for the orchestra to start their song. “It’s not every day we have Andrea Bocelli and Celine Dion singing your favorite romantic song for us.”

Alistair quirked an eyebrow at Alice.

“Can’t Help Falling In Love With You,” she answered his mute question with a smile.