“All right. I have to go home before one o’clock tomorrow,” she acquiesced. “Oh… I don’t have anything with me.”
“Clothes are not a problem. My secretary will bring you some, tomorrow morning.” He stood up, picked up his BlackBerry from his jeans on the floor, and started texting. “Do you want a T-shirt to sleep in?” he asked while he entered his walk-in closet and his bathroom.
She shook her head and rose from the bed, toeing off her high heels and gathering her clothes. “What are you doing?” she asked surprised when he exited the closet in pajama shorts, still texting.
“Informing my secretary what I want her to buy for you.” He raised his eyes to take a good look at her body.
“At this time of night?”
“Sophia, I pay her quite well. She works twenty-four-seven,” he said dismissively. “What is your shoe size?”
“I don’t need shoes. In fact, there is no need for clothes. I can return home in mine.”
He frowned at her. “You’re not going home wearing this dress and high heels. What size?”
“Er… Really, Ethan.”
“Aren’t you aggravating?” He grumbled and his demeanor suddenly darkened. “Do you want to arrive at home looking like a whore?”
Sophia flinched and paled. Gabriela! What will Gabriela think? “I think I should I go home now, Ethan,” she said in a small voice.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.” He hastily apologized. “Please… Stay. I’ve never asked a woman to stay with me, Sophia,” he repeated. “It’s always the other way round.”
Almost two years since I have slept with a man. Should I indulge? Could I? “All right. I will stay.”
“Shoe size?”
Oh, damn. My shoe size. “Er… seven and a half for sandals, eight for shoes, and eight and a half for boots… UK size.” Sophia eyed him closely waiting for a smirk that didn’t come. Good, Mr. Ashford. “But sneakers would do.”
“Sneakers?” He made a face at her. “Do you want a shirt, baby?”
“I just want a toothbrush.” She smiled mischievously at him. “If you don’t mind, I sleep in the nude.”
He laughed, “I don’t mind at all.” He pulled her into his arms, kissing her tenderly. “Oh, Sophia.” He sighed. “There is something special about you…”
She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled at him.
“Tomorrow, I’ll drive you home.” He kissed her lips and grabbing her hand, towed her into the bathroom. He gave her a toothbrush and paste he had retrieved from a drawer. “Make yourself at home.”
God! She shook her head, smiling when she entered the bathroom. The man has art even in here.
When Sophia reentered the bedroom, he was sitting on the bed waiting for her holding two flutes of champagne. No sign of the condom he had flung on the floor.
He stretched his hand, pulling her into the circle of his arms as they toasted and drank.
An emotion Ethan didn’t recognize unfurled in his chest. And then, he knew it would be her for him, forever.
After thirty-five years of waiting I’ve found my other half. She will be mine. My Sophia. Forever.
Come hell or high water.
Mine.
He shook his head, scared to hell. “You don’t know what you have done to me, Sophia.”
A frightening scream shattered the air, waking Ethan.
He switched on the lamp on the bedside table. Sophia, on the other side of the bed, clutched her scarred arm and moaned, as if in pain. Her head thrashed on the pillow and she spoke incoherently.
“Nooooo!” she cried hoarsely, chilling Ethan as her pained voice laced the room.
Jesus! He shook her by the shoulders. “Sophia! Sophia, wake up! You’re having a nightmare.”
She opened troubled eyes and looked around, confused. Her gaze fixed on his face and her breath whooshed from her. She put her hands on her face, heaving.
After a minute, she let her hands fall. “I’m sorry.” She pushed up on the bed and rested on the headboard, eyes closed. “That is the reason I don’t do sleepovers, Ethan.” Her voice shaky. “I have nightmares,” she sighed. “Terrible nightmares.” She left the bed. “I’ll be right back.” She crossed the room and entered the bathroom. She twisted her hair and made a loose bun. She waved her hand under the faucet, cupped the water. She wet her wrists, face, and nape.
Don’t look in the mirror, don’t look in the mirror. She knew what she would see. Big, spooky, dark-brown eyes and white lips on an ashen face. They were neither her eyes, nor her features. They belonged to a ghost, not to her.
Sophia heard a knock and she turned. Ethan leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching her with worried eyes. “Everything okay?”
“No,” she grimaced, “but it will be.”
“Want some port? Or a whisky?” He stepped into the bathroom, thoughtfully. “Here.” He put a white cotton shirt beside her on the sink. “I’ll wait for you in the sitting room.”
“Wait.” She gripped his wrist and stared at him, her eyes troubled… Get a grip, Sophia. You’re going to frighten the man away on the first night. She let go of his hand. “It’s okay. I’ll be-”
He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist, his head dropping to her neck. “I’m here,” he whispered near her ear. “Come on.” He dressed her with the shirt, which fell to the middle of her thighs. “I like you in my shirt.” He smiled at her, leading her to the sofa. He retrieved a bottle of port from a small bar under the bookshelf. He looked at her and motioned to the opened champagne bottle, “Or perhaps do you want the champagne?”
So attentive, Ethan. She gave him a small smile. “I prefer the port.”
“Tell me about the dream.” He handed her the crystal glass and sat beside her, an arm on her shoulder, pulling her to him.
She sipped her wine. “It wasn’t a dream.” She shook her head. “And I don’t talk about it.”
“How were you shot?” He tried again.
“Ethan, please, let it be. It’s a very sore issue.” For the first time, she looked around; taking in the stylish sitting room with its paintings and books gracing the walls.
She put her glass on the side table and rose from the sofa to examine the bookshelves. “We really do have similar tastes,” she smiled at him over her shoulder.
He finished his wine and approached her from behind and spoke in her ear. “I knew you were perfect for me from the minute I spotted you.” He bit her earlobe, his hand lifting the hem of the shirt to find her hip, stroking it. “Come to bed. I’ll make you forget your dream.”
Chapter 5
Saturday, January 16th, 2010.
10 a.m.
Sophia opened her eyes to find Ethan seated on the edge of the bed looking at her, a mug in his hand, his hair damp from the shower, dressed in faded jeans and a blue turtleneck sweater that did wonders to his eyes.
“I could go for hours just looking at you.”
She stretched, raising her arms above her head and entwining them; the sheets moved, showing a breast. “Good morning,” she smiled at him.
Ethan put his mug on the bedside table. “Do that again and you’re not getting out of this bed, Ms. Santo.”
Sophia grinned wickedly and stretched again, this time writhing her body, sheets bunching at her waist.
“Vixen.” Ethan bent to kiss her but she rolled to the other side of the bed and jumped to the bathroom.