Cristiane Serruya - Trust: A New Beginning

“Here we are.” He signaled to a doorman, who took a traffic cone from the street. Ethan maneuvered the car with an ease that belied the difficulty of fitting it into such a small parking place.

“You’re lucky. A parking place just in front of the restaurant.”

“Darling, we make our own luck,” he retorted enigmatically.

“Not always,” she riposted. “Trust me, I know.”

He exited the car and rounded it to help her out, offering his hand again.

She laughed. “I’m not crippled or old.” She accepted his hand and left the car.

“High heels,” he pointed and arched an eyebrow at her, closing the door. He waited for her to take his arm. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“No offense taken. I’m well versed in getting in and out of all types of cars. Never had a problem with my heels.”

“I love women in high heels, Ms. Santo.” He flashed a smile at her.

“Mrs. Santo,” she corrected him.

“Sophia. Calling you Mrs. Santo makes me feel like I’m going out with a married woman.”

“I see,” she smiled amazed by his explanation.

Sophia smiled when Ethan tipped the doorman who had collected the cone. Yeah, he makes his lucky. Her smile faltered. But then, Gabriel did the same and ran out of luck.

Ethan watched her. “Everything okay?”

“Sure.” Lies; more lies; always lies.

The restaurant was full, but they were promptly seated in a reserved booth in the back. The staff treated Ethan in a deferential way. On the way to their table, he possessively put a hand on her shoulder and greeted some acquaintances with a nod, but didn’t stop. He concentrated on her.

Forty minutes flew by as they chatted and ate an entrée of hot foie gras and crispy pancake of duck flavored with cinnamon perfect foiled on a Sauternes Chateau D’Yquem.

“Monsieur Ashford. Madame. C’est un plaisir!”

“Michel! How are you?” Ethan greeted the owner of the restaurant in perfect French. “This is a dear friend of mine, Ms. Sophia Santo.”

“Monsieur, the food is magnificent,” Sophia complimented the chef, also in French.

“Merci, Mademoiselle Santo. I’m happy you enjoyed it.” He turned to Ethan. “Mr. Ashford, I prepared a special dessert for you. Chocolate, of course, but spicy. Let me know if you like it or desire something else. Monsieur. Madame.” He made a small bow and continued his wanderings through the restaurant.

Even though she was certain Ethan had asked for the service to come very slowly, Sophia enjoyed the lunch immensely. He was intelligent, witty, extremely well-read and they shared many mutual interests.

“Mademoiselle, the chef presents your grilled scallops with carrots and salad leaves, tarragon mustard and for monsieur the roast milk-fed lamb with flageolets beans and thyme-scented jus.” The waiter put their plates in front of them and with a flourish, opened the silver coverlets. The sommelier tasted the wine, a 1996, Réserve Mouton Cadet Médoc, approved it, and served a little for Ethan’s assent.

“Do you like the wine?”

“Excellent.” Sophia reveled in the way Ethan clearly prepared everything for her. She gave him a scowl followed by a little smile. “I think you’re trying to get me drunk, Mr. Ashford.”

“No, I’m not.” He pierced her with his sparkling blue eyes. “You have it the wrong way round. I’m the one who is drunk, Sophia. You’re so beautiful, so intelligent, so perfect that it makes a man forget what he’s doing.”

“Beautiful?” she sniggered. “I’m not beautiful. Much less, perfect.”

“Yes, you are. More than beautiful and perfect. You’re…” He scooted to her side of the booth. His hand lifted to touch her raven strands, “Your hair is shiny and lustrous, as long as it should be.” His knuckles caressed her cheek, “Your face is like a cameo.” He opened his hand when it reached her neck and then it descended to her shoulder, pausing just before the swell of her breast. “Your body. I don’t have words to describe it. You leave me speechless and this is not a common thing.”

“Compliments, compliments!” she waved her hand, trying to recapture the light conversation they had been having. “When men desire something they scatter compliments in the wind.”

“And what do I desire, Sophia?” he lowered his tone, his voice husky, and leaned into her. The movement showed his strength that had been hidden within his suit, making visible his powerful muscles. Sophia’s mouth went dry and she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue and bit her bottom lip.

“Don’t, Sophia.” His thumb caressed her bottom lip.

“Pardon?”

“Don’t do this.” He was serious, his voice hoarse. His knee touched her thigh and she almost jumped. “You drive me crazy with desire.” His thumb gently touched the center of her lips.

His voice and hand hypnotized Sophia. “Ethan…”

“I want to take you out to dinner, Sophia. Are you free on Thursday?”

“No,” she shook her head, “I’m traveling on business to Ireland tomorrow.”

“When do you return?”

The waiter arrived and she waited for him to serve the dessert before answering.

“On Friday night.”

“Saturday, then.” His azure eyes were so brilliant they had surpassed the color of the Mediterranean Sea.

Sophia found herself answering before she could think. “Saturday, then.”

His victorious smile almost frightened Sophia.

Leibowitz Oil Building.

Tuesday, January 5^th, 2010.

9.45 a.m.

Ethan entered the building where Sophia worked with the firm intention of requesting a meeting with her. He didn’t even know if she was there. She had not answered his calls since the day she was supposed to return from her holiday trip to Brazil.

Sophia Santo was the most difficult woman to please he had ever met. He thought she’d call him first thing when she arrived. He’d taken her to lunch and dinner more than a dozen times and at the last dinner, just before her trip to Rio de Janeiro, he had given her a Christmas’s gift that would make any woman come running back to his arms. But by saying it was only a memento, he had trivialized the gift.

How could an Oiseaux de Paradis clip, earrings and ring from Van Cleef and Arpels with spectacular yellow and blue sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds be only a memento? He knew she had liked it. She had thanked him and apologized for not remembering to buy him a gift, but he dismissed it, saying that she was his gift. Still… She had resisted his charm. A small peck on his lips was his reward.

Jesus!

This obsession annoyed him. It was weird for him to behave like this. He was pining. He wasn’t a man to pine.

No, I don’t pine. Not at all. For no woman. Ethan felt unsettled.

Whatever he wanted, he got; it didn’t matter how. There was nothing he could not have, nothing he could not buy. He had only the best.

I want her. He had decided that the first minute he saw her. If necessary, he would move worlds to have her.

“Good morning. I’d like to see Ms. Santo. It’s Mr. Ethan Ashford,” he identified himself at the building reception and handed his ID to the receptionist when asked.

“Is she expecting you, ah, Mr. Ashford?” the attendant inquired. Her tag read “Kathleen.”

“No, but I’m sure she will see me. Anyway, it’s an emergency.”

“Please, wait a minute. I’ll contact her secretary.”

“Sarah, Mr. Ashford is here to see Mrs. Santo.” She listened for a while, and smiled at him, “Just a minute, sir.”

He smiled back at her, “No problem.”

After a little while, the receptionist answered, “Thank you.” She smiled again at him, handing over a tag that said ‘Visitor’, “Mrs. Santo will receive you, Mr. Ashford. Would you like me to accompany you?”

“No, thank you very much, Kathleen,” he grinned at her. “Just tell me the way.”

He followed the directions she gave him. In less than a minute, he stood in front of Sophia’s secretary. Sarah, a slender, salt-and-pepper haired, middle-aged woman, wore a conservative black suit.

“Good morning, Sarah. How do you do?” he smiled at her. “I’m so sorry to show up like this, but I really have to talk to Ms. Santo.”

“She’ll receive you now.” She walked to the farthest door from her table. After knocking, she opened it. “Mr. Ashford.”

At once, Sophia rose from the chair behind the table and strolled to the door. “Mr. Ashford, please come in.” She smiled and motioned her hand to Edward. “Let me introduce you to Mr. Edward Davidoff. He is the CEO of Leibowitz Oil.”

Ethan and Edward shook hands, measuring each other. “A pleasure to meet you, Davidoff.”

“My pleasure, Ashford.” He turned to Sophia, “Mrs. Santo, I expect your analysis soon.” Edward gave her a wicked wink before closing the door.

“How are you, my darling?” he kissed her softly on her lips, respecting the boundaries she had set. “You look adorable today, as always,” he complimented.

She looked utterly natural and fresh, only a little makeup to enhance the amber of her eyes. She wore a long Indian-style vest, with a navy-and-dark green pattern, and navy trousers that hugged her legs. One might think of her as a fashion designer, not a lawyer.

She watched him seriously, “Sarah told me it was an emergency, Ethan. Please, sit down.” She motioned to the armchairs in front of her desk, “Do you want some coffee, tea, or something else to drink, water?”

“Tea, please.”

She went to a wood-paneled wall, pushed it and a disguised cupboard appeared. She took out a tea chest and she placed it on her desk in front of him. She turned on a machine and placed two cups under it. In a few seconds the cups were filled with steaming water.

“Milk? Sugar?” she asked.

“Nothing, thank you.” He observed her. A very beautiful woman with elegant gestures. Her cool façade doesn’t fool me.

Sophia handed him his cup and saucer with a small napkin and waited for him to choose a tea. He singled out an Earl Grey. She smiled down at him, picked out the same, and sat on her chair opposite him.

“I thought you worked for Holbrook,” he put forth as a start to the conversation. He wanted to know all about her.

“No. I told you I worked with Professor Holbrook. Quite different.”

“Indeed.” He looked around, “You have a splendid office.”

She quirked an eyebrow.

“Not what I expected for someone so young.”

“I’m the head of the legal department here.”

“Impressive. But I should have imagined it. You’re very intelligent. And you seem competent, too,” he praised her.

“I am. Competent, I mean.” Her gaze wandered over him, taking in the way his hair was combed, his softly groomed beard, his expensive suit, the way his legs were crossed, and even his shoes. “How may I help you?”

He started to feel uncomfortable. Turn the tables on her, Ashford.

She steepled her fingers, tapping them, as if impatient.

She won’t make this easy. Ethan cleared his throat. “This is a private matter, Sophia. So if you’re too busy, please, feel free to tell me.”

“Ethan.” He could hear the annoyance in her voice. “If I were too busy, I wouldn’t have received you.” Her smile softened her firm answer. “Please, tell me what you so desire.”

Ms. Santo’s fire is kindling. Keep going, baby. Let’s make you burn. “Since you put it that way, I’ll be blunt.” He didn’t smile. “Have I done something to offend you?”

Sophia’s face showed surprise; her fingers still interlaced. “Offend? No, not at all. Why?”

“You haven’t answered my calls since I last saw you in December. And you didn’t phone me when you returned.”

“I have been quite busy. I’m overseeing the renovation of my new home and had some pressing matters to take care of. Besides, I didn’t promise to call as soon as I arrived, did I?” She sipped her tea, waiting for him to continue.

“No, you didn’t. The thing is, Sophia, I…” Say it. You’re Ethan Ashford. No one refuses you. It will not start with her. He rose from his armchair, circled her desk, and propped a thigh on the corner of her desk, near her chair.

“Yes?” She turned her chair to face him, crossing her long legs.

Jesus! Naughty thoughts entered his mind, making him bold. Showtime, Ashford. “I want you, Sophia.” He leaned in her direction. “I’ve wanted you from the minute I saw you at Heathrow,” he admitted. “And what I want, I conquer.” A crooked smile complemented the bold statement.