She nodded, tight-lipped. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t feel comfortable in a hotel suite with him, a man she wasn’t dating. Her logic and reason had stayed on the other side of the door.
She swallowed hard, rooted to the ground, her eyes wide. Fear spurred her heartbeat, a physical response to the man who effortlessly took up every inch of the huge living room, the man whom she realized now, she barely knew anymore. She couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t harm her, as he had once before, or put her life in danger. He was six foot three, broad shouldered, fit and well built. What could she do, if he decided to have her?
Ethan approached her slowly, gauging her reaction. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
She tightened her grip on her fragile purse, nodded again and breathed deep, gathering her wits.
He noticed her rib cage expanding under the black leather dress and her breasts pushing on her cleavage. His hands itched to peel the sexy dress off her. Instead he caught her gently by the waist and pulled her closer, against his chest, an arm snaked around her back and a hand on her head.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured on her hair. “You have nothing to fear from me. I only want what’s best for you.”
He kept his hips away from her body concealing his arousal and there was no sexual innuendo in his embrace. Just tenderness. His hand stroked the length of her loose hair, soothing her fears, and he curled his fingers under her chin, lifting her face, “Do you want to go?”
“No.” The word was raspy. Sophia cleared her throat. “No. I think that we have to talk, Ethan. Really.”
Jesus, Sophia! He saw the determination on her face and knew that nothing good was coming from that talk. His arms fell to his side, defeated, and he moved to the Chinese lacquered bar. “Do you want something to drink?” She shook her head. “An espresso, perhaps?”
“Yes, please.”
He prepared two as she walked to the balcony, looking at Ipanema Beach. It had stopped raining. She slid the doors open and sat on the spacious and comfortable reclining chair outside.
He sat beside her, handing her the cup. They drank in silence and when he finished his coffee, he put his cup on the floor. He leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. His baritone voice was very low when he confessed, “I was devastated when we broke up. It was a rough time, Sophia. Then I decided it’d be easier to let it go. But it wasn’t. It isn’t. It’s awful,” he said vehemently. “And when I saw you at the airport, devastated too, I thought I had another chance. But you love him, don’t you?”
Sophia stood and went to the edge of the balcony, looking at the wonderful view. In one sweeping landscape, she could see all the way from the Dois Irmãos mountains to Arpoador. “You know, Ethan, I miss this city. This beautiful, beautiful city.” She turned to him. “I miss the Carioca happy way of living. My friends. My family. I miss it all. But... It was in this same city that I was robbed of happiness in the most savage way. So, I am not coming back unless for a brief visit, no matter my... saudades. No matter how much I miss it.”
He had put his chin on the palm of his hand and was drinking in her expressive face.
“Why am I telling you this? Because, it’s the same with us.” She sat again by his side and put a finger on his lips, when they opened. “Let me finish, please. This,” she motioned from her to him, “us, I mean, has nothing to do with Alistair MacCraig. It belonged to us and it’s going to stay only between us. I like you, Ethan. I do. But as a friend and a business partner. If you can’t understand and respect my decision... I’ll miss you, but this is it. The end.”
I will never let you go. Never. He closed his eyes so she wouldn’t see the resolve inside them. He said huskily, “You’ve got me, Sophia. The way you wish. Any way.” His hand gripped hers and tightened fractionally. “Can’t you feel that you command my will like I’ve never let anyone else do?”
Sophia sucked in a breath when he fixed her with his gaze.
“Sometimes,” he was watching her face with searing intensity, “I feel that I can hardly breathe without you.” His beautiful azure eyes revealed his inner turmoil. He was struggling with his emotions. “Your life is an asset, Sophia,” he whispered. “Be careful that your decisions don’t make you a liability.”
Are you threatening me? “You said you wanted what is best for me. I want the same. What is best for you. You need to move on. I’m not coming back to you, Ethan.”
That’s what you think. “I see,” he traced the ring on her finger. “Friends, then?” I’ll indulge you, Sophia. For now.
“Friends,” she answered, lifting from the reclining chair and taking out her iPhone from her purse to call her driver. “I must go. I have a full day tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you downstairs,” he said picking up the door card from the side table. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his navy trousers to avoid snatching her in a hard kiss. “When are you returning to London?”
“I don’t know. I’ haven’t decided yet. And you?”
I don’t know. “I’m returning to São Paulo tomorrow morning and I’ll be back in the evening. Do you have plans for the weekend?”
The elevator doors opened.
I have but I’m not telling you. “I’ll probably stay with my grandmother. I haven’t seen her since New Year’s.”
Ethan nodded. He splayed his hand possessively around her hip when he noticed male heads turning to look covetingly at her and enviously at him, when they walked past the hotel’s exclusive night club and along the white linen curtained corridor toward the hotel entrance. We make a perfect pair.
He accompanied her to her black Mercedes 600 Pullman Guard. Zareb was holding the door open for her, scanning the perimeter with hawk eyes.
Ethan kissed her on the cheek and stayed there watching her pull out, examining his thoughts.
From their first time together, he’d known Sophia would be his ruination.
After all the changes she had evoked in him, he barely recognized himself sometimes.
To get her back, he would do anything.
And he was willing to find out how far he would go.
Chapter 23
Alistair MacCraig’s Apartment.
Thursday, April 8th, 2010.
3.49 a.m.
Alistair tossed and turned in the bed. His depressed musings had been keeping him awake since Tuesday.
Aggravated, he switched on the light and flung his body out of the bed. He walked to his desk in the living room to search for his phone. He turned it on and scrolled for Sophia’s and Gabriela’s photos.
A long time passed while he caressed each photo and thought about what he was going to say to her when they finally met again.
He went back to bed and turned off the lamp on the bedside table. His desolated thoughts got worse in the dark. He exhaled slowly, expelling all the air from his lungs.
Half an hour later, he rose again and walked back to the living room. This time he turned on the TV and started to flip through the channels for something interesting to see. He had to find a diversion.
How is it possible to feel sickness from someone’s absence? He needed her gentle touch, drawing random designs on his chest as she fell asleep. Her soft lips kissing him good night and then good morning. He needed her.