Chapter 10
Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.
Sunday, March 21st, 2010.
11.42 a.m.
Ethan stepped onto the veranda and leaned over the glass rail, looking down at the always busy London, in deep thought.
He was feeling melancholic and utterly alone, in spite of the beautiful woman waiting for him inside. He knew that he wasn’t like other men. He knew his inability to connect to those around him was a fault in him. He’d had this difficulty since the day he discovered his puppy dog dead. And Eve’s betrayal only made it worse. He couldn’t feel that fierce pain again. The only person that made his heart beat and his interest sparkle unselfishly was Sophia. It troubled him that he kept thinking of her so often. Even if he tried not to, his thoughts keep returning to her. He knew he needed to love someone other than her, but his heart was taken. There was no space for another woman.
All he could do was watch for clues. Small hints that could bring her back to him. He congratulated himself on how well his plans where developing.
Although he’d always been rich and had received a large inheritance when his grandfather died, Ethan endeavored to achieve the things he wanted. He took charge of his destiny and, most times, he was successful in gaining what he wanted.
“Ethan,” Barbara softly called his name, walking to his side.
He turned his eyes away from the view and was caught by the beauty of her profile. He wondered how two women could be so alike and not be sisters.
However there were small differences.
Barbara had a slightly bigger nose and less plump mouth. She was taller and had bigger breasts. And her eyes were blue as he had seen once, when she had taken out her yellow contact lenses to sleep. That was the only time she made that mistake. The next day, she had ordered new lenses she could wear when sleeping.
She put a hand on his bare forearm and caressed it with her red nails. He briefly closed his eyes and she smirked inside.
“Ethan, my dear, I was wondering if you didn’t want to have lunch somewhere? Or maybe do something different? We could go to the Royal Academy of Arts. There is a fantastic exhibit on Van Gogh and his letters. Have you seen it?” She bit her lip for a second and looked at him from behind her discretely mascara rimmed lashes. She saw his azure eyes lighten up and he pulled her in his arms for a kiss.
Barbara had done her homework. She had studied the file Scott provided her with Sophia’s work and hobbies. She had spent hours analyzing the short phone videos Scott had sent her and had repeated Sophia’s gestures and facial expressions in front of the mirror until she mimicked them perfectly. She had sent Ethan’s secretary a list of items for her wardrobe which she thought would be more similar to Sophia’s style.
Barbara had asked her best friend to help her until she was sure everything was as perfect as it could be. She had even skimmed some of the ebooks Sophia had bought recently, discovered thanks to Scott’s hacker friend. She was lucky she was a well-read woman; she wondered how Sophia managed to read so many books in so little time. As for the fitness part, she had no problems with that. Sure, she was seven years older, but she was addicted to sports and working out, had always kept in shape, had many skin treatments done and she had no kids. She seemed younger than Sophia even. Her skin was unblemished and as soft as that of a newborn baby.
Ethan broke the kiss slowly, nibbling her lip with his teeth, combing her silky hair with his fingers. Lustful thoughts of his time with Sophia played as an erotic video in his mind. He rubbed the tip of his index finger down her neck and dipped it in her neckline, skimming her bra. Her breath hitched.
He didn’t know if she was liking it or not. And he couldn’t care less. He was past those banal principals and morals. He was not interested in her feelings or emotions. He was the one that should be pleased. He was Ethan Ashford.
He had gained Barbara’s total loyalty when he lent her the money to pay the loan sharks, without interest. He made her sign a promissory note, but he hinted that if she pleased him, he would never demand payment. And she was doing a great job at pleasing him. His lips curled up. “Where do you want to have lunch?” Sophia is not in London, anyway. No chance of bumping into her or MacCraig.
“China Tang, at The Dorchester?”
Ethan’s smile grew as he recalled his lunch with Sophia there. “I love that restaurant. Make reservations for one-thirty. Then meet me in my room.” The back of his hand brushed her nipple. “I want to appease another hunger before we leave.”
Atwood House.
6.55 p.m.
“Okay, little girl,” Sophia clapped her hands at Gabriela who was comfortably seated on Alistair’s lap. “Time for bed. Now.”
“But, Mama-”
“Don’t you but me. It’s seven o’clock. Time for you to go to bed.”
Gabriela pouted at her mother and then turned her head, looking at Alistair for help. He just smiled at her and motioned his head to Sophia.
“Five minutes more, Mama, pleeeease.”
Sophia looked at her watch and sighed, “Okay. But only five.”
Gabriela beamed at her mother, “Thank you, Mama.” She turned to Alistair and asked, “Tell me another story, please?”
“A short one,” he said as Sophia sat on the sofa beside them and put Gabriela’s bare feet over her lap.
Alistair smiled at Sophia, as he started the story, “Once upon a time, there was a prince. He was very tall, handsome and rich. But he didn’t have a princess-”
“What was his name?”
“Ronnoc Riatsila,” he promptly said and winked at Sophia.
“Ugh! What an ugly name.” Gabriela puckered her turned-up nose. “Are you sure he was a prince?”
“Aye. I’m sure,” he smiled, delighted. “So. The prince was very much alone in his big, big castle. One day, he decided to hold a contest to find his bride. All the women in his kingdom would have to go.”
“Only the beautiful ones,” Gabriela said. “Princes can’t marry ugly princesses.”
“Very well. Only the beautiful ones.” His grin broadened as he put an arm over Sophia’s shoulder and pulled her closer.
She sighed happily and nestled herself on his side, listening to the story of the prince called Ronnoc Riatsila, thinking that she wanted his princess to be called Aihpos.
The City of London Bank Headquarters.
Thursday, May 15th, 2008.
4.59 p.m.
“But can’t my driver just pick up the prescription?” Alistair paused as he listened to what Doctor Lodes’s secretary told him on the phone. “Aye, of course. I’ll be there.” He hung up and rubbed a hand on his neck. What could be this urgent? It’s just a prescription.
He left his office with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Lodes’s Clinic.
5.47 p.m.
“Hello, Doctor Ben. How are you?” Alistair hugged the doctor and entered his office. “How are Aunt Elizabeth and Mark?”
“Everyone’s fine, son. Everyone’s fine,” Doctor Lodes repeated as if to assure himself that what he said was true. He motioned for Alistair to sit on the sofa at the end of his office.
Alistair frowned at the strange behavior but complied, sitting on the comfortable gray sofa and stretching his legs. He was tired. He had been working like a mad man lately. “I haven’t seen Mark for a long time. He’s disappeared.”
Doctor Lodes scratched his bald head and sat next to Alistair on the sofa. “You have been too busy to see your friends, Alistair Connor. Mark got married last month. We missed you at the wedding.”