“What?” Alistair’s face showed his disbelief at the news. “But I thought-”

“Yeah. I know I said it was a urinary infection. It was what the tests showed. Unfortunately, that’s not all of it.” Doctor Lodes was saddened by having to give such news to Alistair. He liked him so much.

“Are you sure, Doctor Ben? My tests... Last year... didn’t show any disease.”

“This is a silent disease, Alistair Connor. It’s called Mycoplasma genitalium. And not very easy to detect. I only included it on my list for obligatory exams recently. As you were once a... Let’s say... Ah-”

“Promiscuous,” Alistair supplied to ease the doctor’s discomfort.

“Yes, unfortunately you fall into the category. As I was saying, I included that exam in your tests. It’s not very common, at your age, to have such a continuos inflammation as you’ve had this year. Heather has to be tested as well. I would guess that she has it too.” He pulled another sheet from Alistair’s file. “I wrote a prescription for you. It’s for azithromycin. I’m recommending a prolonged course. It means a strong dosage for a longer duration.”

This is wrong. It must be wrong. I’ve never had a sexual disease before. “But... shouldn’t we do another test? Maybe this is the wrong one...”

“We can do more tests, yes. But I’m not willing to take any risks here. If you really have Mycoplasma genitalium for this long, without treatment...” The doctor shook his head, slowly.

“But how could that have happened?” Heather always does her tests. She is clean too.

“How? Alistair Connor, you’ve had multiple partners.” Disapproval was apparent in his voice. “And we both know that you don’t always practice safe sex. No matter how many times I’ve warned you about the risks. Have you, ah... Had any other new partners lately?”

“No,” Alistair answered, bewildered. “Not for a long time,” he ran two fingers over his square jaw, thinking. “Since Heather got pregnant.” It has been only Heather and I. And... Emma. Don’t forget Emma, Alistair Connor.

“I treated your supposed urinary infection with tetracycline and, although, you could have been cured, it seems to me that Heather might be infected because you keep returning here with the same problem. And I’m sure the relapse is going to be more difficult to treat because the bacteria may have become stronger and more resistant.”

Alistair frowned at that. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing to be scared about now. I’m requesting new tests to be done after you complete the treatment.”

“Okay. I’ll inform Heather that she has to do the test.” And Emma.

“Yes. And she has to be specific with her gynecologist because it requires a specific test to be detected. Here’s the name of the test she has to do.” Doctor Lodes handed two other sheets to Alistair. “And this one is for you to do in four weeks after you finished the azithromycin. They’ll inform me of the result and I’ll call you, my boy.”

Alistair rose from his chair, unsure of his feelings. There were so many questions on his mind in that moment that he felt dizzy. “Thanks, Doctor Ben.”

“I hope you’ll take better care of yourself from now on.” The doctor gripped Alistair’s hand in his and looked deep into his eyes, “Alistair Connor, I could be your father, so I’m going to say what I’m sure your father said a long time ago: get rid of Heather.”

Alistair swallowed his anger with difficulty, out of respect for Doctor Lodes, a gentle middle-aged man, and one of Lachlann’s closest friends. “Doctor Ben, Heather is the woman I married, I don’t-”

“Alistair Connor, you have always been stubborn, haven’t you?” Doctor Lodes put a heavy hand on Alistair’s shoulder, shaking his head. “I know your parents don’t like her and you think it’s unfair. Then, why don’t you talk to Mark or to Johansson instead? Both are good friend of yours.”

Alistair eyed the older man and something in his eyes made him answer, “I will, Doctor Ben.”

Kensington Palace Garden. Atwood House.


Monday, March 15

th

, 2010.


5.45 p.m.

“You don’t need to accompany me, Lucy. I know the way. Thanks,” Alistair dismissed the housekeeper and climbed up the stairs to the second floor, going to Gabriela’s room.

He paused at the door, enchanted by the sight.

That’s exactly what I need in my life. Alistair leaned on the doorjamb and let the scene wash over him.

Sophia was sitting on the floor, with her back against the wall, in loose jeans, a white cotton T-shirt, a colorful scarf around her neck, barefoot, her long hair still damp from a recent shower. Gabriela was perched on Sophia’s legs with her new doll on her lap.

Alistair’s mouth dropped open when Gabriela spoke with the doll in French, as naturally as she spoke English and Portuguese.

As he walked into the room, Sophia’s head came up and she smiled at him, her face brightening even more.

Does my little fairy speak French? “Parlez vous français, ma petite fée?”

Gabriela jumped off Sophia’s lap and ran to him, her doll under her arm. He scooped her up in his arms and she hugged him, kissing his cheeks and answered, “Oui, bien sûr. Merci pour ma pupée.”

“You’re welcome, Fairy.” He looked at Sophia and commented on Gabriela’s words, “Of course, my fairy would speak French.”

Sophia smiled, “Well, she is my daughter, isn’t she?”

She started to rise but stopped as he sat on the floor, beside her, in a fluid movement, putting Gabriela on his lap and bending his head to kiss her lightly on the lips.

Sophia sighed inwardly and melted at the sight of him, murmuring, “I don’t know how, being so big, you manage these graceful movements.”

He stared at her, bewildered, “What?”

“You just sat on the floor with Gabriela in your arms as if you were a... Ballet dancer.”

“Ballet dancer? Ballet. Dancer?” he repeated, shocked. “You offend all my years of Karate training.”

“Ah. That explains it, then. I always wanted to learn Karate, but my grandparents wouldn’t let me. Instead, they made me take ballet classes.”

He smiled, “I can picture you dancing, but not fighting.”

“Oh, but Mama fights,” Gabriela said.

“Does she?”

“Yes, some funny Japanese fight and big, heavy swords,” the little girl bobbed her head, confirming.

“Japanese fight? Big, heavy swords?” he frowned at Sophia.

A big smile spread over Sophia’s features at Gabriela’s explanation. “It’s not Japanese, Gabriela. It’s Chinese.”

“Whatever, Mama. I like it.”

She chuckled, looked at Alistair and explained, “Tai chi chuan. And the swords are only big and heavy for Gabriela. They are mere fencing swords, a sabre.”

“Right. Of course, you would go for the heaviest one.”

She shrugged, “I thought it’d be more challenging. A heavier sword, smaller target area, faster pace.”

Gabriela hummed and Alistair glanced at her. The girl had a dreamy look on her face. She smiled at him, saying, “You should come to see Mama’s lessons. She flies. I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

“You’ll be much better, my angel,” Sophia said and changed the subject. “Why don’t you show Alistair what your doll can do?”

“Oh, yes.” She shifted on his lap and said, “Sophia speaks four different languages-”

“Sophia?” He raised a questioning black eyebrow at her.

“My new daughter’s name is Sophia,” she explained. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

He flashed his most endearing smile at her and winked at Sophia, “Indeed. After yours, the most beautiful name in the world.”

Sophia looked at the two of them and the love she saw in their eyes made her heart burst. Oh, my. Have I found my angel in disguise?

10.47 p.m.

She watched him unabashedly as she dipped her spoon in the box and licked its back. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing sinewy forearms. His shoulders were wide, and vibrant energy was rolling off him in thick waves.

I want you. She closed the refrigerator door and walked lithely, fixing him with a devious stare, until she was mere inches from him.

Alistair shifted on his feet, unsure. Me. Hesitating. Inconceivable!

He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the island, standing between her legs.

Sophia giggled, holding out a spoonful of the frozen treat. “Tangerine.”

“I prefer orange topped with vanilla sauce and rose petals.” He smiled and allowed her to feed him, and when she leaned forward, her tongue darted out to lick his lips, he found himself lightheaded. Images from a movie flashed through his mind.

“Have you seen Nine and a half weeks?”

She creased her pretty nose, “Never heard of it.”

Aye, you were a child. “Mmm, then close your eyes,” he purred, “let me surprise you.”

“Hmmm.” She licked the spoon, again. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Ah. No, you said?” he tsked and closed the refrigerator door. Slowly, he pulled the dishcloth from its hanger. “Sophia, that was your one chance. Now, you’ll do as I want.” He stretched the dishcloth between his hands, folded it and put it over her eyes, tying it at the back of her head, murmuring on her lips, “You’ll have to learn to obey my commands.”

“Never, sire. I’m rebellious.”

Sophia, Sophia. He started disrobing her, pulling off her T-shirt.

“In the kitchen?” Sophia was astonished.

He nibbled her shoulder before confirming, “Aye, in the kitchen. Some other time, we’re going to test the pool. How about that?”

“Okay.” She smiled sassily at him. “Then lock the door, please.”

“Don’t move or you’ll fall.”

As he crossed the room to lock the door, she silently jumped off the island, pushing the blindfold up on her head, a naughty smile on her lips.

Alistair continued to talk, unaware she was tiptoeing around the island to hide from him. “And I don’t want to hear any screams. It’ll be a good test of your control.” He heard a soft thud and, when he turned, he was alone in the kitchen.

He looked around and there was no sight of her, “Sophia?”

Alistair felt a strange exhilaration fill him as her stifled giggles reached him. Three months ago, if one of his friends had said to him that he would be turned on looking for a woman in a dark kitchen, he would have told them they were crazy. He picked up her soft cotton T-shirt and dipped his nose in it, inhaling her scent and palmed his arousal, shaking his head, amazed.

“Hide and seek, Sophia? What will my prize be when I find you?” He looked under the table and behind the island.

No Sophia.

No answer.

No sound.

Not in the kitchen? He swept the room and his eyes paused on the door that lead outside. No. Not possible.

Sophia was having the time of her life. “Meow.”

Alistair’s eyes whipped to the end of the room, where the muffled sound had come from. In the soft night light that came in through the windows, he couldn’t make out where she was. “You are in for it now, lass.”

Sophia giggled in the dark.

On hearing the sound, Alistair darted forward, but he still couldn’t locate her hiding place. He switched the kitchen lights on and frowned, “Where the hell are you?”

“Meow,” she said again.

He groped the wall and found a sliding door.

“Ah-ha!” He flicked on the lights and found her sitting on her heels in the corner of the pantry, with only her scarf around her neck, a flimsy bra and jeans, the blindfold holding her hair back. He stopped in the middle of the room and barked a laugh, “You’re completely crazy, you know? Now. What’s my prize?”

“My lord, I’m so sorry I caused you trouble.” She crawled to him on all fours, until she found his bare feet. Alistair grunted at the sight. She rose on her knees and opened his zipper, “Will a blow job make up for it?”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!! Her T-shirt fell from his fingers and he shoved his hands in her hair, pushing the dishcloth away, as she tore down his jeans and briefs.

“I don’t think-” As soon as she put her mouth around him, he changed his mind, groaning, “Aye, it will. It will.”

The corners of Sophia’s mouth curled up around his girth and she raised her hands to open his soft flannel shirt, as she slowly explored his length with her tongue and lips. Her nails grazed his waist.

“That’s so good,” he breathed. “Do it again.”