“What do you mean by ‘some are not from our circle?’” she asked with a puzzled frown.
He sighed. “Some were professionals.”
“You mean, you mean…” she couldn’t complete the thought.
His lips curled at her hesitation, “Sophia, yes, every now and then a man like me calls an escort.”
“Like you?”
“I have a very high sex drive.” His face split with an amused grin, his eyes twinkling.
“You’re laughing at me,” she huffed.
“It’s impossible not to,” he sniggered, “you’re too good to be true.” He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose and then her lips.
“So, you weren’t lying when you said that you would call an ex or an escort,” she blushed and looked down, “And-”
“No. I don’t need to lie, Sophia.” He curled his fingers under her chin, lifting her face to peer into her troubled eyes, “And?”
“Sometimes you seem so cold. All business; all logic and facts.”
He gave her that ghost of a smile and he stared appraisingly at her remark. “Possibly.”
“And where-”
“Where?”
Sophia bit down on her lip, thinking for a second. “No dates, no one to love. Where is your heart in all this?”
“I don’t have a heart, Sophia. Not anymore. It’s buried six feet under,” he answered in a dry tone. Let it be, Sophia.
“Why do you insist in saying that?”
“Because it’s true,” his lip curled into a grimace.
“You appear to like only blondes,” she flicked her eyes to the other tables.
“I have a preference for blondes.”
She flinched and opened her mouth to speak. He immediately reached out and put his finger over her mouth.
“But as I was saying before being rudely interrupted by your unconvinced remark about the number of my sexual partners,” he teased, “I’ve never had a woman like you. There’s something about you. Something special,” he murmured. “Something that makes me want to do things I’ve never wanted before, with or for any other woman.”
His deep voice transfixed Sophia.
“Something has attracted me to you since that Wednesday - a cold and gray January day - when you entered the meeting room. It was like-” Christ, Alistair Connor! You’re swooning like a lovesick teenager. He stared at her face, enthralled by the bafflement imprinted there. Fuck! Fuck my rules, fuck my promises. Fuck everything.
He cupped her face in his long fingers, his thumb pressing on the center of her soft and plump lips. “It was like the sun had appeared again in my life, Sophia,” he crooned. “You. You changed everything when you stepped into that room. You have a freshness, a strength, an allure, I’ve never seen before. The way you walk, talk, hold yourself. The way you move your hands, with your long red nails. You’ve become the light of my life.”
His words turned her speechless. How can he say these things after saying he has no heart? His beautiful words reminded her of Gabriel’s a long time ago and she shivered. Too soon, too soon.
“I was mad with jealousy.” He exhaled as if he had run a marathon.
She shook her head to disperse the spell he had cast over her, “Jealousy?”
“I thought you and Davidoff were lovers,” he said sheepishly.
She chuckled, “Really? I don’t believe it.” She smiled and cocked her head, “Why would you think that?”
“You were so intimate, you touched him with a-” he frowned, searching for the right word to describe the way she touched and talked to Edward, “I dare say you were overly familiar with each other.”
“I’ve known Edward since I got married and - what can I say - I’m Brazilian. A Carioca. We touch and kiss and hug all the time. We are friendly people. For you British, it is strange. But it’s common behavior for us.”
“I’m not British, Sophia. I’m a Highlander,” he said cryptically and, releasing her face, shoved his hand through his raven strands to push away a lock that had fallen over his eye.
Sophia ran her fingers over his hair. “I love your hair,” she murmured. “It softens your controlled and rigid posture. It betrays you.”
He frowned, puzzled, “Betrays me?”
“It’s windblown, and… I-don’t-give-a-fuck hair-”
He burst out laughing.
“What?” she stared at him, “Are you laughing at me again?”
“No.” He chuckled, “Sorry. Yes, I am. It’s the first time I’ve heard you saying the F-word. It’s adorable.” He chortled again and murmured, enchanted, “Everything about you is adorable.”
A movement caught his attention and he turned his head to look at a couple stopped in the middle of the restaurant.
Sophia followed his gaze. Sophia watched as a distinguished older man escorted a gorgeous blonde, blue-eyed woman scantily clad in a tight lemon-yellow dress. The woman reminded her of Juliette, the previous owner of her house.
The blonde woman discreetly pointed at them and whispered something into the man’s ear. She flashed a look at Alistair. The man nodded at them and studied Sophia carefully. He said something that made the woman laugh out loud. Still giggling, she put a hand over her mouth and started walking in their direction. Alistair’s glare and slight shake of his head stopped her short.
A sudden chill ran through Sophia’s spine. Is she one of his exes?
The woman’s face fell and she again whispered in the man’s ear and threw her head back in a fake and spiteful laugh. The man just smiled and nodded at Alistair from afar.
Sophia looked at Alistair, who sat rigid on his chair. His fists clenched and his eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on the woman.
If looks could kill, the blonde would drop dead right now. Sophia swallowed, her gaze fixed on the stunning woman. Just before she exited the restaurant, she turned and blew a kiss to them, winking.
“Alistair,” Sophia put a hand over Alistair’s clenched right fist and he whipped his head toward her, his hair flying over his face from the sharp movement.
“What?” he growled, looking at Sophia, but he saw the shimmering mask of his beautiful blonde, blue-eyed ex-wife.
“Are-are you okay?” she stammered, unsettled by his behavior.
He deeply inhaled. His hand ran over his face and nape and he rolled his neck over his broad shoulders, cracking it. “Aye,” he answered in a more normal voice, “Everything. Is. Fine.”
“What-” Sophia interrupted herself when the waiter approached with their dessert. “Mmm, your favorite part of dinner.” She licked her lips and smiled at him, a sassy look in her eyes, “Prepare yourself, Alistair Connor.”
“Sophia,” he entwined his fingers with hers, “I don’t think I’ll ever be prepared for you.”
Chapter 24
11.07 p.m.
On the way out of the restaurant, Alistair took Sophia’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, squeezing it lightly. He looked down at her, “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to the cottage?”
She bit her lip to contain her smug smile and nodded, “Yes, I’d like a relaxing Armagnac.” She stopped and craned her neck to look at his face, raising an eyebrow at him with a mischievous look in her eyes and licking her lips. “And also, I find it very, mmm, stimulating to smoke a cigar after dinner.”
He flashed a grin of even, white teeth, his green eyes sparkling, “Surely, you’re not provoking me, are you?”
“No, no,” she answered with a naïve grin, batting her eyelashes. “I’d never dream of doing that.”