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She smiled relieved and kissed his lips, “Just perfect, Amor. Just perfect.”

The cloudy sky mirrored Sophia’s confused feelings as she admired Alistair’s ease while he handled, along with the two gallery partners, the special tour for the press. She longed to be at his side but, at the same time, she was afraid of the exposure.

The group of journalists, photographers and cameramen had surrounded him as soon as he got out of the car.

He dominated the room and maneuvered the press into asking him what he wanted. Dressed in an expensive black suit, fitted to perfection to his body, with a striped green and blue tie over a white shirt, he was the embodiment of tradition and power. He could have looked intimidating, but his charming and seductive smile masked the straightforward business thoughts that she was sure he was having.

“He has a hypnotizing way with them, hasn’t he?” Tavish approached Sophia quietly from behind handing her a champagne flute.

“Yes,” she smiled up at him, but his eyes were glued on his brother. Only with them? She clinked her glass on his. “Cheers. Congratulations on the opening. You handle them quite well too.”

“Cheers. This is a part that I don’t like very much. I’m not photogenic.”

She laughed and elbowed him on the ribs. “You’re fishing for compliments, Lieutenant-Colonel Doctor Lord Tavish Uilleam.”

He grimaced at her, “You’ll never let me forget it, will you?”

“Absolutely not!” she joked. “That was the most intimidating greeting I’ve ever received.”

“And you’re the only woman who has ever slapped me,” he retorted.

“You deserved it,” she volleyed back.

“Aye, I did.” He sighed. “Do you like the gallery?”

In the heart of Chelsea, set in a listed building, the Blue Dot Gallery was a stunning space over three floors, with five main high-ceilinged rooms, wooden floors and glass stairwells. The old and traditional façade on the outside concealed an amazing and fresh approach to contemporary art on the inside.

“It’s spectacular,” she nodded. “Valentina would absolutely love it. She’s finishing her degree in fine arts in Florence.”

“Florence? Too traditional. She should have come here or gone to UCLA,” he said.

“That’s why she went there. Her ideas are already too daring.” Sophia rolled her neck and flexed her shoulders. “Shall we get more champagne? I need to relax.”

“How are the preparations for the wedding coming along?” He offered his arm to her with a crooked smile. “Is Alistair Connor still driving you mad?”

“Good God! How can you work with him? The man is so stubborn, domineering, unmanageable-”

“And you are paranoid and a perfectionist,” Alistair’s voice interrupted her string of complaints.

She turned, blushing at being caught red handed.

He had a huge smile on his face. “But I love you anyway.” He reached out for her hand. “Come on, sweetheart, the journalists want to meet the mysterious woman that has tamed my heart.”

Sophia saw that Zahira, Ashley and Edward were at the door posing for photos. She breathed deep.

“Go on. They’ll love you,” Tavish assured her.

Alistair put her hand on the crook of his arm and covered it with his.

Sophia bit her lip and raised her eyes to his.

He tsked and bit his lip, drawing a smile from her. “Good. No one is going to resist you now.”

8 p.m.

The five hundred select guests for the opening of the gallery had each paid five hundred pounds, to be donated to the Sophia Leibowitz Foundation. Among them, beautiful and elegant young men and women well versed in art history explained the concepts of each artist and endeavored to interest prospective clients and the directors of foundations and museums. The event was turning into a huge success.

“Sophia!” Warm hands rested on her shoulders.

She angled her neck back with a smile, “Hello, Ethan!”

His hands ran over her back to circle her waist and turned her to face him. “You look ravishing, darling.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she teased as she returned his kisses. “You know Edward Davidoff and Zahira Chanda, don’t you? And this is LO’s PR director, Ashley Carruthers.”

“A pleasure to see you again, Ashford,” Edward stretched his hand.

“Davidoff, Mrs. Chanda, Ms. Carruthers,” he greeted them and turned to Sophia. “I guess that after tonight you’re not afraid of the press anymore. So, Mrs. Chandra you can set up a date and location for our event.”

Zahira only smiled at Ethan, knowing full well that Sophia didn’t want the ball.

Aren’t you insistent, Ethan? “Why do we need a gala ball?”

“It’s free marketing, darling. If MacCraig can benefit from it,” he motioned to the crowd mingling around, “Ashford Steel and Leibowitz Oil can too.”

What? “Come again?”

“Everyone likes to have a good excuse to throw a party. Better if you can couple beauty and youth with wealth and charity. You personify every quality to make our project a huge success, Sophia.” And spend more time at my side.

“I hadn’t looked at it that way,” muttered Edward.

Ashley tapped her finger on her red mouth. “Mr. Ashford makes a fair point, Sophia.”

As always. He smiled charmingly at Ashley, “Ethan, my dear, please.” His attention wandered back to Sophia. “See, darling,” his hands made their way back to her shoulders and his azure eyes glowed with excitement, “your CEO and PR director agree with me. Say, November? We’ll raise even more awareness for the new branches in Asia. And funds, of course.”

“I’ll think about it, Ethan,” she replied with a smile. And my answer will probably be no. She looked at Ashley asking for help.

Ash discreetly winked, understanding. “I’ll take a look at her schedule, Mr. Ashford, and get back to you.”

“Ashford.” Fuck off. Alistair’s arm snaked around Sophia’s waist and pulled her to him, as his free hand stretched to shake Ethan’s.

“MacCraig. Congratulations on the exhibition.” Your best piece is in your arms right now. The moment you let go, I’ll have her back.

Don’t you dare paw Sophia again. “The gallery’s guiding principle is to show what our most exciting artists are making nowadays. We aim to make art more accessible to the mainstream, without losing the exclusivity.” She is the one and only. Exclusively mine.

Edward rolled his eyes at Sophia, who was struggling to control her laughter, as Ashley looked away with a huge smile on her lips.

Exclusivity of Sophia, you mean. “Indeed. I heard you’ve created an art fund and that it’s already closed to new entrants. I’ll be interested if there’s a new one.” Interested in Sophia, I mean.

You don’t fool me, Ashford. “Aye. It was a huge success. My brother,” he signaled to Tavish, who excused himself from a group of buyers and made his way to where they were, “is in charge of the gallery and the art fund. I’m sure he can explain it to you better.”

Family business, huh? Ethan watched the younger and more handsome version of Alistair approach them, smile at Sophia before acknowledging the others. Your perdition is in your own home, MacCraig.

“Ashford, my brother Tavish Uilleam.” He’ll be watching you too, Ashford.

“Gentlemen, Ash, Zahira,” Sophia said to the group, “if you’ll excuse me for a moment.”