Alistair was battling to keep a lid on his formidable temper. If he hadn’t known how Sophia felt about Edward, he probably would have said a few things to the blond man. It took a concentrated effort to keep anger and jealousy from his face. Sophia is mine to care for. No one else’s. “You mistake my intentions, Davidoff. I just want a minute with her.”
His stern and even tone had Edward agreeing, “Okay. One minute.”
When everyone left the room, Alistair looked at Sophia with a mix of tenderness, wonder and possessiveness. “Now, you’ve put me in a difficult position. If you don’t go-”
She snorted, trying to hide her fear, “I have put you in a difficult position, Lord Smoothness? You put me in this position.”
He smiled gently at her, “Good. Now, you’ll have to go.” His knuckles caressed her pale face. “I’ll be with you, Sophia. Don’t worry.” He helped her with his coat and lifted her in his arms.
She closed her eyes and whispered, ashamed of her irrational fear. “Promise?”
“Aye.” He kissed her forehead, squeezing her gently, “Hold on, I have to open the door.”
He flung open the door and paused by Edward.
Before either of the men could speak, Sophia said to Edward, “I hate you.”
“Hate me alive, stubborn woman,” he snapped back.
Sophia’s lips curled up in spite of herself, “Domineering CEO.”
Edward relaxed and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, “I’ll drop by later to see how you’re feeling.” He looked at Alistair, “Take care of her and keep me informed, will you?” Edward was sure Sophia was in good hands.
“I will. She is my only priority.” It was the truth, stated more clearly than he’d allowed his own mind to recognize.
Edward blinked, stunned by the fierce statement.
Alistair’s lips twisted and he looked into Sophia’s eyes, still talking to Edward, “This wee lass... She’s a challenging experience.” With a curt nod, he strode to the lifts with Sophia in his arms and Steven and Zareb at his heels, leaving a smiling Edward staring after them.
“Sarah,” Edward said, “cancel all her appointments for the rest of the week and on Monday. Reschedule them to the week after next. Please, also call Liang. We need to discuss new security protocols.”
Chapter 13
Ashford Steel.
01.39 p.m.
“Mr. Ashford?” Scott’s voice coming from the intercom interrupted Ethan’s speech.
“Just a moment, Carter.” Ethan frowned and immediately picked up the phone. Scott knew better than to interrupt a meeting when he had given strict orders not to. “Yes, Scott?”
“I thought you should be informed that Mrs. Leibowitz’s secretary canceled tomorrow’s meeting with the excuse that she had an urgent trip to Ireland. But, sir, I checked with my new informant and it’s not true.”
“Hold on, Scott.” He turned to Ronald Carter, “I need a few minutes with Scott, Carter. If you’ll excuse me.”
Ronald Carter was a young and ambitious lawyer, who had been working in the legal department at Ashford Steel for over six years. He had a quick and ingenious mind and always discovered the best ways to take advantage of the any legal gaps. Each year, he managed to surprise Ethan with a better tributary strategy, making his boss consider him a key player in Ashford Steel’s development.
Last year, after another promotion, Ethan had convinced Carter to enroll in a masters course at Cambridge, funded by Ashford Steel. This, of course, served more than one purpose for Ethan.
As Scott entered his office and closed the door, Ethan raised from his desk and walked to the black leather sofa by the window. Scott asked, “Can I make you a coffee, Mr. Ashford?”
Always subservient. Ethan acquiesced, “Yes, thank you, Scott. And Bling, please.”
Scott served coffee in the Imari china and water in a Waterford crystal glass. Each time Scott handled one of Ethan’s elaborately hand-painted china cups or opened one of the Bling H2O bottles, he felt as if he were serving a revered Samurai or a King. In fact, he had always thought of his boss as a great man with no flaws. However, Scott was discovering Ethan Ashford was human too.
Scott held the silver tray firmly. He didn’t even want to think about breaking one of those treasured objects.
To each his own fetish. “Tell me, Scott.”
Marylebone, Devonshire Street.
The Harley Street Clinic Diagnosis Centre.
4.11 p.m.
Alistair was pacing the corridor. He inhaled deeply and the antiseptic smell made him wrinkle his nose.
Since he had come back from his quick lunch, almost two hours ago, no doctor or nurse had appeared to brief him on what was happening. He had never been so unsettled. Not even when Nathalie was born. He almost jumped when his mobile vibrated.
Tavish Uilleam. Finally. “Where are you?”
“Good afternoon to you too, Alistair Connor. How are you?” Tavish mocked.
Alistair scolded, “Do you think I would have called you ten times if it weren’t urgent? Where are you?”
“On my way to the gallery, near Park Crescent.”
“Thank Christ. Tell Garrick to bring you here. Now!”
“Where is here? Alistair Connor, you’re not-”
“I’m alone and driving myself crazy waiting for Sophia’s doctors-”
“Sophia’s doctors?”
Alistair briefly explained what had happened.
“Calm down. I’ll be there in five minutes. I’ll talk to them.”
Tavish could hear Alistair’s sigh of relief before he answered, in a hoarse voice, “Thanks, Brother.
4.37 p.m.
Tavish looked at Alistair, who was leaning on the wall, eyes closed, lips thinned and brows drawn tight. “Don’t worry. These exams usually take a long time, Alistair Connor.”
“I need to see her. I need to touch her. She’s been inside for over three hours.” Alistair inhaled and opened his eyes just as Sophia appeared at the end of the corridor. She was still pale and was flanked by her psychiatrist, a short and plump old man with a soft white beard, and the neurologist, his perfect opposite, a wiry, tall young man, with dark hair and black eyes.
Alistair’s long strides were barely controlled. He was in front of her in a second. He didn’t look at the doctors. He asked no questions. He said nothing.
His arms went around her and his head burrowed in her hair. He simply held her, stroking her hair, her back; his large palms moving slowly, as if to assure himself she was all right.
“Everything is okay,” Sophia whispered and closed her eyes, leaning onto his warm and strong body. His touch was pure comfort. She lay her cheek on his chest, listening to his heart, steady and sure. A shuddering sigh escaped her as some of her tension drained away. She was afraid the doctors would insist on her going back on the medication.
“Alistair Connor.” Tavish’s low voice broke the moment.
Alistair gathered his wits as he inhaled Sophia’s scent. White roses, orange and vanilla. Sophia. All I need, all I want.
He had his poker-faced mask back in place when he looked up at the doctors but he didn’t let go of Sophia. He allowed her room enough to turn around in his arms and pulled her back onto his front.
“Mr. MacCraig, Mrs. Leibowitz is fine, but she needs rest and some days away from work,” explained the neurologist, Dr. Merkel.