“Christ, Sophia.” His anger flared, “Control yourself.”
“Yes, my lord. I apologize, sire.” She bowed, seriously. “But you drank from my body, didn’t you? Is this” she motioned to the bottle, “more valuable?” Her hand holding the bottle lifted an inch higher. “I don’t think so.”
“Stop!” He ordered nearly shouting, his voice reverberated on the rocky walls. He understood her rage. “Stop,” he lowered his voice to an even and commanding tone. “I didn’t mean to insult you,” he breathed deep and continued in a low, silky voice. He stepped forward slowly, as if she were a scared and hurt little animal that any sudden movement would frighten, “Nothing compares to your taste, Sophia. Not even one of your most expensive wines.” He moved in front of her and lifted his hands slowly. He caressed her face with his knuckles, “Choose. I will drink with pleasure whatever you desire.”
She leaned on his body, her forehead resting on his chest. “Sorry, I overreacted.”
“You do have a temper, don’t you?” He laughed when she punched him in the arm, after putting the 1945 Mouton-Rothschild in its place.
“Try me.” She reached for the bottle she had chosen first, leaving the cellar.
Back in the kitchen, she put the bottle on the island. She put an opener and a crystal-and-silver decanter next to the bottle. “Here, help me or I won’t feed you.”
“Are you threatening me?” He snatched her to him and his arms circled her in a tight hug. He spoke so near her lips, she could feel him breathing. “Feed me or I will not pleasure you again. Your decision.” His beautiful green eyes held an inscrutable expression.
“That’s your problem,” she dismissed his warning, not at all afraid of the big man looming over her. “You lose on both counts.” She kissed him, “You’ll starve,” kissing him again, “for food,” another kiss, “and for me.”
He eased his stance and embraced her as she playfully kissed him, dismissing her ultimatum. “Witch.” Giving her butt a loud and heavy swat. She yelped. Aye, Beauty. First lesson. He grinned at her and turned to open the bottle. “Why do you have so many expensive bottles of wine in your cellar?”
“Because.”
“Sophia.”
“Oh, yes, I remember. That’s not an answer,” she restated his words and searched in her cupboard for the pot she needed. She filled it with water and put it on the stove. “I love wine, those are considered the best. I bought them.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Isn’t that enough?”
He poured just a bit of wine for each of them and let the rest breathe in the decanter. “Indeed. A good answer. I missed the foot stomping on the floor.” His lips curled up slightly and he handed the crystal glass to her. “A toast,” he prompted, “to you, the most beautiful and intelligent woman I’ve ever met.”
“To you, an intriguing man, and to us,” she replied and drank the wine. To us, an uncertainty.
“To us, may we together create a new path in life.” He hardened just imagining the things he would teach her.
“To… A new beginning,” she smiled at him. Then she remembered, “The foot stomping?”
“Yes. Just like children do.”
She looked at him, bewildered. “What?”
“You know, children stomp their feet when-” He laughed, lowering, as she hurled the dishcloth at him. Hmm. And now, Alistair Connor?
The doorbell rang, saving her from his counterattack.
“Are you expecting someone?” he frowned.
“Yes. I’ll be right back.” Sophia went to the back door. “Don’t move.”
Fuck. I’ve never been ordered around before. He rolled his broad and muscular shoulders and his neck. Relax, Alistair Connor. She’s worth it. He could hear her moving around the back of the house and speaking with someone.
“Who was it?” he asked when Sophia returned to the kitchen with a mischievous grin and a white plastic bag in her hand.
She didn’t answer and demanded, “Close your eyes.”
“Who was it, Sophia?”
“Never mind. Close your eyes. Please,” she asked again, approaching him with a sexy and mischievous expression on her face.
“I don’t know if I should,” he teased, but closed his eyes. He heard the sound of plastic rustling and felt as her long soft fingers held up his hand and, turning it over, put a small box on his palm.
“Open your eyes,” Sophia softly said, still holding his hand. On it was a pack of condoms.
“How…” He shook his head, bewildered.
“I have my ways. Come on, let’s eat before this pasta becomes mushy.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the table.
She added the chopped items, put the pasta in, and stirred again. After a few minutes, she picked up a bowl and put everything inside.
Sophia went to the table with the steaming bowl, served the pasta for them, and sat in front of him. “There’s some Grana Padano Riserva, if you want.”
He put some of the cheese on his pasta and handed her the bowl. She looked anxiously at him while he tried the pasta.
“Mmm,” he closed his eyes, savoring it. “This is very good.”
“So, you approve of me as a cook?”
He flashed a grin at her, “You’re approved, period.” He picked up her hand and kissed it. “Where did you learn how to cook?”
“When I studied in Lausanne. I told you, remember? A Cordon Bleu teacher taught one of the extra classes. He called it Cordon Bleu pour les jeunes. Can you imagine a bunch of teenage girls in a kitchen?” She smiled, “It was one of the best classes. He had a funny way of teaching and kept us all interested in the difficult art of Cordon Bleu. But pasta is very easy. One day I’ll cook something more elaborate for you.”
“But surely, you don’t cook usually. Your nails give you away.”
“No, I don’t cook every day. But after that year in Lausanne, I improved my skills at home. When I got married I made it a habit to cook at least once a week for Gabriel,” the last word she barely whispered.
He interlaced his finger in hers. “Did you know you could make a fortune with the wines you have? There are specialized investment funds that trade on wine.”
“What would I do with more money?” She sighed in disbelief. “Money is also for spending, Alistair. I work a lot. I can afford some extravagances.”
“Do you like being in Gabriel’s shoes?” He perused her face, seriously. “As far as I know, you relinquished your career as a successful lawyer to run his company.”
“I don’t run his company. I just give the last opinion on matters that are more important. And, well, life didn’t leave me much choice. It was never a question of what I wanted to do, but what I had to do. I did what was right. But, you know,” she drank her wine and tilted her head to side, in thought. “I never thought I’d have what it takes to fully understand and manage such an enormous and complicated organization. It seems that I do. At the beginning, the employees didn’t have much faith in me, but gradually I showed them I could do it. I have to thank Edward for all I’ve achieved in the last year. More than a business partner, he has been a great friend and companion.”
“Edward. Davidoff?” As she nodded, he frowned and enquired, “He was Gabriel’s partner?”
“No. But Gabriel trusted him. He started as a trainee and rose by his own merit to the position of CEO. I gave him five percent when I inherited Leibowitz and he has been a great help to me.”
He gapped at her.
“What?”