She bit her lip and shook her head, lowering her lids.
Oh, Christ! What comes next? “Look at me, Sophia. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
She raised on her elbow and looked up into his forest green eyes. “Kids,” the small word, softly whispered, was a glass breaking in the silent room.
Fuck. Fuck! “I see,” he breathed deeply and tried to sit, but she wouldn’t allow him to move.
“No. Don’t get away from me.” She combed his hair with her fingers while she explained her idea. “Listen to me. I’d love to have one more child. Maybe with a donor, maybe an adoption. I don’t really care. But I don’t want Gabriela to grow up as my only child. I need to know if you are okay with that.”
He concurred with a nonchalant, “Hm-hmm.”
Sophia felt empowered and decided to drop all her bombs. “And also...” she breathed deep. “Also, I want to continue living at Atwood House.”
He stiffened. He looked into her eyes for what seemed an unnervingly long moment. “How,” he inquired, his voice steely calm, “do you imagine I would feel living in the house you bought with Gabriel’s money? Knowing that our home was paid for by him?”
Instantly, she saw her mistake. She saw it in his darkened green eyes, in the pride that flashed in their depths.
She shifted closer to his warmth. “I... don’t know. It’s...” It’s because it would make me happy? Ugh! No, too selfish. Because it’s a beautiful house I built over many months of work? No. Worse. And stupid.
“Make an effort. Put yourself in my shoes.” His voice had dropped to a gravelly purr. Would you have moved in with me to where Heather had lived?
Inwardly cringing, Sophia cupped his face running her thumbs over his clenched jaw, which slightly softened at the caress. “It’s my money. I bought it. I did the refurbishment. Atwood House is my house, and Gabriela’s too. She loves it there. Her bedroom. The garden. The pond. Everything. You can make it our home. You can pay for all the expenses. You can make all the changes you want.” She felt as he gradually relaxed. “I want you-”
He put a finger on her lips and murmured, “I’ll think about it. With tender care.” I can’t deny you anything, can I? Besides, it’s not so unreasonable.
“Thanks.” She kissed his lips. “We have to tell Gabriela.”
“Mm-hmm. Later.” His finger tips trailed down her arm and he entwined his hands with hers. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispered drowsily.
As Sophia closed her eyes in slumber, she knew that her heart was not hers anymore. After a few minutes, she was deeply asleep.
Alistair’s gaze roamed over her gently flushed face and her reddened lips. Caressing her slim back, he looked at the skyline. The sun was setting behind the snow capped mountains and the whole scenery was tinted in teeming colors almost as if a rainbow graced the entire sky.
Alistair’s heart beat lighter as he stared back at the woman sleeping on his chest.
For the first time in many years, he allowed himself to feel hope.
Chapter 26
Los Cauquenes Resort & Spa.
Saturday, April 10th, 2010.
9.35 a.m.
Alistair raised his eyebrows at Sophia’s and Gabriela’s small suitcases, which the bellboy was taking to their waiting car. “Is this it?”
She shrugged, “It was just a few days and I left my other clothes in Rio.”
“You’re a piece of work,” he whispered, shaking his head, amazed. “I have never seen a woman travel with so little. Are you sure you don’t have OCD?”
“As if you weren’t organized too,” she jutted her chin to his small luggage.
“I’m a man,” he said dismissively, as an explanation.
She sighed dramatically, “You’re incorrigible.”
He chuckled, “That’s why I’m marrying you.”
Right. I know. “Indeed,” she mocked.
Gabriela came down to meet them, bouncing lightly between Edward and Felipe. She was wearing a lovely pink wool dress with a white sash. Her long blonde hair was tied in pigtails and held by white silk ribbons. She threw herself in Alistair’s open arms.
“Good morning, Alistair.” She kissed and hugged him. “Are you looking forward to going to the beach?”
He smiled at her and put her back on the ground. “Only if you take me, Fairy.”
“I will. Promise.” She jogged to the car where Maria and Zareb were waiting.
“Ready for the jungle?” Edward asked Alistair.
“Good Lord, Edward. You’re going to scare him like that.” Felipe smacked his hand on his forehand. “Don’t listen to Edward. He-”
“Yes, don’t listen to him,” interrupted Sophia, her gaze distant. “In the jungle, you know the rules. In Brazil, you don’t.”
Rio de Janeiro, Ipanema. Fasano Hotel, Fitness Club.
12 p.m.
“WHAT?!” Ethan lost his composure for a split second. He smiled apologetically at the surprised woman on the other treadmill and pushed the stop button, getting off.
He accepted a towel from the personal trainer, drying his face and grabbed a bottle of water. He exited the fitness center, emerging by the rooftop infinity pool, and dropped into one of the comfortable reclining chairs. He lowered his tone, “Are you sure, Scott? When?”
He looked at Christ the Redeemer, the huge statue atop the Corcovado Mountain, when a sharp pain made his eyes tear. The view was lost on Ethan as he felt nauseated by Sophia’s betrayal.
She’s going to marry MacCraig. MacCraig.
The thought turned his stomach and he drew in a gulp of air. He ended the call after giving Scott some instructions and headed for his room with angry and firm steps.
London, Chiswick. The Ashford’s Mansion.
Friday, April 13th, 1979.
11.27 a.m.
Calista’s eyes popped open and she wriggled her perfect, small nose in disgust, when the childish giggles mingled with the zen music her brawny masseur had put on before he started.
“Relax.” Adam, her therapist, kneaded her shoulders more firmly.
She sighed and closed her azure eyes just to open them angrily when, five minutes later, Ethan’s piercing shriek followed his happy laughter.
“That’s it,” she said, sitting up, her lilting accent pronounced. “Adamos, call that horrible brat here. Now,” she ordered as she got down from the massage bed and put on her silk robe. “He can’t give me a moment’s peace.”
“Calista, honey-”
“NOW!”
Adam turned to obey, with a grimace on his lips. He hated to see the way that selfish, pampered and promiscuous woman treated her sweet, gentle son.
Calista paused in front of the full length mirror of her private rooms and tied the sash around her slim waist, observing her stunning figure. She turned her face from side to side and ran her hand over her neck and breasts. She smiled satisfied with what she saw.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?” she mocked her own image, picking a brush up from the vanity table and brushing her long black hair with vigorous strokes, thinking about her son. Her smile disappeared and she thinned her full lips.
“You called me, Mum?” Ethan’s innocent and eager voice made her turn from her own mesmerizing image.
In front of her was a lovely blond boy with her own azure eyes, perfect nose and strong features.
“For you, Mum.” Ethan was holding a bunch of red roses from the garden in his hands. At six, his still childish face already showed the signs of the handsome man he would become.