“Thanks, Tavish Uilleam,” she kissed him back. “For everything.”

He smiled and left the TV room with Alistair.

Sophia heard as he said, “Promise to call me if she feels anything.” She smiled when Alistair replied, “You don’t even have to ask.”

10.29 p.m.

Sophia watched as Alistair pulled on a black cotton T-shirt and then tied the drawstrings of a pair of black silk pajama shorts. “I like men in silk pajamas.”

He turned to look at her framed by the dressing room doorway, appraising the purple silk and lace nightie and matching wrap she had donned. He raised an eyebrow. “Lass, you better like just me in silk pajamas.”

She turned to the bedroom and smiled at him over her shoulder, not deigning to answer.

Sophia, Sophia. He shook his head at her back and then scowled at himself at the futility of that. She isn’t even seeing. And she doesn’t give a damn.

It baffled him how he let her get away with her taunts and whims so easily. He didn’t usually take well to that kind of behavior.

They’d settled in bed companionably, each one with a book. However, Alistair gazed at his, unseeing. His mind was full of the beautiful woman beside him and her independence and stubbornness. Quite how he had come to love the one woman out of all the hundreds who was impervious to intimidation, he did not know.

Maybe it’s fate. His only option was to hope fate would also provide him with the means to deal with her - and with his issues - without damaging the unconfessed love he could see in her eyes. And also their growing trust in each other. What they were building together was unique, at least in his experience. He remembered her words, ‘Quantity doesn’t mean quality’. And he knew she had made a point with those words. He’d had many women, but not one true relationship to brag about. On the other hand, she’d had very few men and all her relationships had been important to her.

He couldn’t define what he was feeling, or even describe it. Love was too mundane a word to portray his feelings. He only knew it was precious, too valuable to risk. He frowned at the book and put it down, his eyes searching her face, “Sophia?”

She just lifted a finger asking for one minute after which she looked up from her Kindle. “Yes?”

“What happened today?”

Sophia turned off her Kindle, closed its Jimmy Choo cover and put it on her bedside table.

She was stalling. She knew it.

However, she had no idea what she was going to say to Alistair.

“My blood pressure dropped. When I fainted, I banged my head on the floor.” Hmm. Let’s see if he falls for that.

Why are you hiding, Sophia? “That, I know. Dr. Colton said something about remembering painful things. What did you remember to make you react like that?”

Sophia leaned on the pillows and closed her eyes, sighing softly.

“Sophia?” He sat and turned, facing her.

“When Gabriel was kidnapped, I...” Her head started to pound. She couldn’t tell him. She was deeply ashamed of her warped request to Gilberto. She was a criminal; repented, but a criminal nonetheless.

Their fingers. How could I ask for such a barbaric thing? “I’m sorry, Alistair Connor. I- I can’t talk about this.”

How many fucking secrets are you going to keep from me, Sophia? His countenance darkened. “I don’t tolerate lies, Sophia.”

“I’m not lying,” she said softly. I am just omitting. It’s not the same.

Fuck! “The hell you aren’t!” He inhaled, struggling to keep his temper under control. Trust her, Alistair Connor, so she can trust you and talk about her secrets. Gently, he brushed her hair behind her ear. “You’re shutting me out. Don’t push me away, Sophia, please.”

“Alistair, they aren’t lies. There’s only so much I can talk about right now. Please understand. I need-”

“I need you to be truthful,” he snapped and regretted it immediately. “I don’t want a half-Sophia. I need you all. What is it going to take to make you trust me?”

“I do trust you,” she sighed and sat on the bed. “Believe me, I do.”

“So, what are you hiding? These secrets of yours are getting to be too much. I’ve told you about Heather, about Nathalie and you- I’ve never opened myself to someone like I have with you.”

“You think I’m not open?”

“I don’t think. I know you’re not. You could make an effort for me.” He looked up at the green and blue canopy of her four poster bed. She didn’t need him pushing her at that moment. His arms went around her, pulling her onto his lap, cradling her. His knuckles caressed her face, “For us, Sophia.”

With a low moan, she rested her cheek on his chest. “I’m tired, Alistair. Give me some time, please. It’s all I ask.”

He shifted, cupping the back of her neck gently and pressing his lips to her forehead. “I’m not a very patient man, Sophia, and I hate to be in the dark.”

Sophia inhaled, absorbing the scent of his skin. Sublimely Alistair. “Let me work this mess out, please. Can you be just a little more patient?”

You’re going to keep me in the dark, aren’t you, Sophia? He groaned and his arms squeezed her. “Aye, I can. A bit more.”

“Thank you.” Sophia wondered if she would ever be as he wanted her to be, an open map for him to explore. She knew that it would take a great deal of courage to be truthful, trustful, and completely honest with him. But what bothered her most was that she didn’t know how much it would cost her to expose herself to him.

What will I lose? My sanity? My freedom? Your love? With her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest, she closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed for a chance to repair the cracks in her soul.

She hoped wishes could come true, that the past could be erased.

She wished she could rewind time, back to the day before Gabriel was kidnapped.

If Gabriel weren’t killed, I wouldn’t have met Alistair Connor.

The thought struck her with so much force that it left her reeling. She wriggled out of his embrace and jumped from the bed. Struggling with her wrap, she walked to the TV room, without looking back when Alistair called her name.

No, Sophia. Don’t even think that. Sophia sat on the sofa heavily and picked up the digital photo album that was on the side table. She turned it on and started going through the photos. Gabriel and her on their wedding day. Their honeymoon. The two of them and Gabriela.

Alistair wandered in the TV room and halted as he noticed she was looking at photos of Gabriel and her. He leaned on the wall, allowing her some space.

She paused at the next photo, where Alistair’s and Gabriela’s smiling faces looked back at her. Two fat tears dropped on the screen.

I don’t know what I should wish anymore.

She felt as if her heart was being ripped out of her chest again. She put her hands on her face and sobbed.

Alistair pushed from his position on the wall where he was watching her and sat on the sofa, pulling her onto his lap. “Shhh, it’s okay.” You’re so stupid, Alistair Connor. How could you pressure her like this? When she is feeling so fragile? “Don’t cry, please. I’ll wait for as long as you want. Hush, sweetheart, please.” He squeezed her in his arms, “I love you so much, Sophia, I can’t stand you being unhappy.”

That only made Sophia cry harder. If Gabriel were alive, I wouldn’t have met Alistair Connor. But how can I even wish for a split second that he weren’t alive?

“Please, mo gràdh. Don’t cry,” he whispered on her hair, rocking her in his arms. Alistair tightened his arms around her, soothing and warming her with his big body. “Christ, Sophia. I can’t take it. Tell me what I can do. Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t want to feel this. I don’t,” she whispered, leaning onto him, needing the comfort he offered so readily. She buried her head in the hollow of his neck, hugging him fiercely.

“How are you feeling? Do you want me to call your doctor? Tavish Uilleam?”

His strength anchored her. Sophia sucked in a shuddering breath, shaking her head, “No. It’s okay. I’m okay, I’m just... I’m overwrought.”

As she smelled his male scent, her head spun.

She had to mourn Gabriel. She had to make peace with her sins.

If she wished to move on.

“Sophia,” he murmured on her hair, “I’m sorry I said you were lying to me. But I- I know what secrets can do to a relationship.”

“I’m sorry too.” More than you can imagine. “But I can’t tell you,” she said quietly. “Not now.” Not ever.

Niarchos Angepopoulos’s house.


Saturday, January 28th, 1989.


11.58 a.m.

Ethan was salivating. And he was sure he was drooling too. He could’t keep his eyes away from Eve’s gorgeous body as she wore her tiny bikini, running to the sea. He looked down at his swimming trunks and shook his head at himself. How am I going to explain this... this...

“Ethan! Come!” She waved at him from the sea. “The water is delicious.”

He looked at his grandfather, who was lounging in a reclining chair next to Isis and then looked down pointedly at his crotch.

The old man just smiled and jutted his chin at the sea and said to Isis, “Shall we go inside? I want to show you the new Francis Bacon I bought. It reminded me of you.”

As they walked behind Ethan’s chair, Isis put a hand on his shoulder. “Please, Ethan. Go in with her. I’ll be worried if she’s alone in the water.”

He craned his head back to look at the beautiful woman. He blinked nervously a few times before he answered, “If you wish.”

“Ethan swims marvelously, Isis. You don’t need to worry.” Niarchos put his arms around Isis’s shoulder and winked at Ethan. “We are going up to our rooms to change after I show Isis the painting, but don’t worry about the time, my son. I’ll order a late lunch today.”

“Yes, Grandpa.” Embarrassed at his aroused state, Ethan rose from the chair. When no one commented about the bulge in his swimming trunks, he shrugged and walked to the water.

Ethan loved the private beach in front of his grandfather’s house. The smooth sand under his feet and the sensation of the water around his body were soothing balms for his confused soul. He felt secure there.

Eve splashed him as he approached her. He laughed and dived, resurfacing near her. She giggled at him and swam away, going further out. Ethan watched her, mesmerized by her slim waist and rounded buttocks. He swam after her, but she stopped when the water reached his armpits. She threw her arms around his neck, her puckered nipples rubbing against his chest and her thighs grazed his half-erection, turning it hard in a second. He hissed and her eyes open wide.

“You want me, too,” she whispered.

“Eve, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he said and blushed.

She bit her lip and looked at him through her lashes. Her hand toyed with the ends of his hair, her nails grazing his nape, “Do you want...”

Ethan remembered his grandfather’s words. There is nothing to be ashamed of. He dipped his head and whispered, “Yes, I want you.”

She blinked and a naughty smile spread on her face when she asked, “Can we just play?”

“Play?” His head lowered a bit more. I don’t want to play. I want to kiss you.

She wound her legs around his waist, moving up and down over the bulge of his swimming trunks tormenting him. Just before she kissed him, she breathed, “I want to play.”

1.35 p.m.

Ethan smiled at his image in the mirror and turned to look proudly at the nail marks on his back. Jesus! Sex! Why haven’t I started this before?

He blinked nervously at himself remembering that awful evening at his parent’s house. However, Eve’s beautiful and delicate face superimposed his mother’s. And the blinking stopped, as another happy grin spread on his lips.

This will get even better. Ethan quickly dress himself and walked to Niarchos’s bedroom. He wanted to tell him everything that had happened. He knew that soon, very soon, he would have Eve completely and he was going to make sure he did everything right.

Atwood House.


Friday, March 26th, 2010.


08.27 a.m.

Alistair woke up to soft knocks on Sophia’s bedroom door. He rubbed away the remaining sleep from his eyes and checked on Sophia. She was sleeping peacefully on her side, facing him. He brushed away the hair that had fallen over her face and noticed that her color was back to the normal light tan and her lips were dark red again.