Love is what keeps people going. Grandpa taught me well. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, while reasoning with himself. MacCraig must have let his mask slip. I will do anything to protect Sophia.
Even from herself.
No matter how. No matter the cost.
Chapter 21
Heathrow Airport.
In one of the Heathrow by Invitation lounges.
5.31 a.m.
Ethan’s cell phone vibrated and he looked down at the BBM message from Scott:
Her car will be arriving in a few minutes.
With deft touches, Ethan texted back:
Inform crew.
Ethan walked slowly to the lounge door. After a few minutes he spotted Sophia’s bodyguard. Zareb was broader and a head taller than most people around him. And his white smile and bald black head shined under the lights.
Ethan walked out of the room pretending nonchalance.
“Sophia?” he asked.
She stopped and looked at him as he called her name. Maria, Zareb and Steven, who was carrying a sleeping Gabriela, stopped too.
“Hey Ethan,” she gave him a tired smile. “We keep meeting at airports.”
“So it seems, darling.” He approached her and kissed her cheeks. His eyes bulged when he took in the bruises that marred her face. His hand brushed her hair back to better look at the small patch protecting the stitches. Why I don’t know about this? “What happened to you?”
“No big deal,” she shrugged. “I fell.”
Hm. Is this true, Sophia? “I’m leaving in a few minutes. I have a meeting in São Paulo. I’m thinking of opening a branch there.”
“Really? I’m going to Rio.”
“Why don’t you come with me, then? You know I’ve got enough space for you.”
Sophia bit her lip and looked over her shoulder at her sleeping daughter.
Ethan immediately complemented, “For all of you, of course.”
“I- Ethan, really... Thanks, but I’ve already booked-”
“Cancel it, darling.” He looked at the little girl and smiled. Go for the kill, Ashford. “Gabriela will be more comfortable in my stateroom than in any other plane. I guarantee.”
“All right,” she conceded and turned to Steven. “Could you please see to it? If they charge any fees, pay them with the credit card.”
“Of course, Mrs. Leibowitz,” he answered and transferred Gabriela to Zareb’s arms.
London, Mayfair. Edward Davidoff’s Apartment.
5.50 a.m.
Edward’s iPhone chirped again informing him of an incoming email. He frowned as he recognized Sophia’s ringtone. He looked at his digital clock and his frown deepened even more. He kissed the blond head lying beside him and a soft, male moan was heard in the bedroom.
He got out of bed and put a hand on his pounding head. “I drank too much,” he muttered.
He got up and searched through the heap of clothes on the floor for his mobile.
There was one call and one email. When he touched the screen to read it, the battery died. He cursed and went to his office.
From: Sophia Santo (sophia@santo.co.uk)
Subject: Some time off
Date: Tuesday, April 6, 2010. 5.47.53 GMT
To: Edward Davidoff (e.davidoff@leibowitzoil.co.uk)
__________________________________________________
Dear Edward,
I’m taking some time off with Gabriela. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t worry. Everything is okay. I just need time to think about a couple of things that happened this weekend.
I know LO is in competent hands. I trust you.
Thanks.
S xx
__________________________________________________
“Christ! What’s happening? What happened?” Edward murmured as he speed-dialed Sophia’s phone. He got her voicemail. “Shit!” He waited for the beep, “Sophia, love, it’s me. Please, call me as soon as you can.”
He hastily got up, an idea forming in his mind. He paused at the threshold and looked at the mess in his bedroom. He shook his head, amazed, and went to the bathroom to get ready for what he guessed would be a very unusual day.
Dr. Andrew Volk’s Office.
9.27 a.m.
“The death of someone close to you usually is emotionally devastating. A daughter’s death, in your case, is especially debilitating. In my opinion, by having those physical encounters, you experienced and released the anger, guilt and emptiness that you were not able to deal with. I’m not judging your choice, but you have to understand that that was your way for you to come to terms with your loss. How do you feel now?”
Seriously? Alistair raked a hand through his hair and looked at the doctor with narrowed eyes. “Do you have kids, Andrew?”
Doctor Volk cleared his throat. “That’s not what I’m asking. I have a seventeen year old son. I’m not saying that I know what you felt when your daughter died. Or what-
“But let me tell you, anyway.” He stopped the doctor, raising his palm. “It was as if my heart had been ripped from my body. I was soulless. For a long time, I was hollow. There was nothing inside-” Alistair frowned and corrected himself, “No. That’s wrong. I was heartbroken and soulless, yes. However... I felt... I felt hate, anger, pain. I hated Heather. I loathed myself. I was totally consumed by dark emotions, they made me numb to everything else. I wanted to shout my rage at the world. I wanted to destroy every woman that came in my way. I lost all capacity to relate to others. Mere days after the funeral, I became even more ruthless.” He put his elbows on his knees and hissed at the doctor, “I was a coward and couldn’t take my own life.”
“So, you wanted to destroy and be destroyed in each and every way possible. This is sado-masochism.”
Alistair’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead.
“And I wouldn’t call it cowardice-”
“Oh, no! Of course not,” Alistair gave a harsh laugh and pushed both hands in his hair, resting his forehead in his hands. “All I could think of was that I wanted to be buried with Nathalie. Alive. I wish I were inside her little coffin. She didn’t like the dark, you know? Singing her a lullaby to keep her fears away. Holding her, so she wouldn’t feel cold and alone. Protecting her-” His throat closed and tears filled his eyes. He was overcome by a longing so devastating, it would have cleaved him not so long ago.
But Alistair was a different man now.
He closed his eyes and breathed deep a few times, his mind seeking comfort in his memories of Sophia and Gabriela.
Dr. Volk was a professional and was more than used to listening to those kind of stories, but he was a father too. He was moved by the gut wrenching pain he knew was ripping apart the man seated on the sofa.
Alistair dried his eyes and leaned back on the couch and looked at his therapist. “I couldn’t fulfill my desire to be with her. I was powerless to go back in time and save her from-” he waved his hand in the air. A minute passed before Alistair opened his eyes again and asked hoarsely, “Does that give you an idea?”
“Yes. And I can relate to your feelings. You didn’t think it was fair to love and to be loved. To feel pleasure, to give pleasure. Let me tell you, I would call this a normal reaction, if you had stopped on the feelings and had not advanced into action. Don’t be afraid of feeling, Alistair. Give yourself over to all these dark emotions that scare you because you think that they will make you less than a man. They will not. On the contrary, they will make you grow.”