However, he was also a constant reminder of what Calista hated most in her life.
She had never wanted a child. She had never wished for married life. She wanted freedom and Ethan had chained her from the moment he had been conceived. To make things worse, he always looked at her with adoring and beguiling eyes.
She put the brush with a thud back on the table and he flinched.
She looked at the flowers with a rictus on her lips and, snatching them from his hands, threw the roses in the waste bin, saying, “Are you stupid? I’m allergic to flowers. Bring me diamonds next time.”
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Ethan lowered his head hiding the tears that invaded his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mum,” he whispered through the huge lump that blocked his throat, wringing his hands. “I’ll remember.”
“What were you doing screaming like that? You are disturb me.”
“Disturbing,” he corrected, unconsciously.
The sound of a slap rang in the room. “Shut up!” she hissed at her son in Greek. “SHUT. UP. You’re no better than me, you undeserving brat.”
“Calista,” Adam moved from his position at the threshold, shocked at the gratuitous violence, “he’s a child-”
She raised her perfect eyebrows at him, and ice coated her voice when she stated, “Child or no, he have to learn that this is not a fairy tale world.”
Child or not. He has to learn that this is not-
“Look at me, Aethon,” she was speaking again with her strong accent.
My name is Ethan. Not Aethon. I’m your son. Not your horse. He blinked his eyes at the beautiful woman that looked at him from such an enormous height. Too far for him to reach. The distance too great to find a way into her heart. “I’m sorry, Mum. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry is not enough! On the corner. At your knees. ‘Til I say so.”
In the corner. On your knees. In his mind, Ethan kept correcting the mistakes his mother made to stop the tears from falling as he walked to the corner of the room and knelt there, facing the wall. Why you never smile at me, Mum? Hug me, Mum. A kiss. Stroke my hair. What have I done so wrong?
Calista took off her robe and lay down naked on the massage bed, “I’m ready for you, Adamos.”
The masseur masked his disgust and controlled his anger as he put the small towels back in place over Calista’s breasts and hips. He eyed the little boy’s back with his head lowered. The slight trembling of his formal white shirt revealed how much he had been hurt.
Before she closed her eyes, Calista told Adam with a sneer in her voice, “He’ll never get a woman. Flowers! Imagine...”
Ethan counted the white stripes on the colored wallpaper of his mother’s room. I’m not going to cry. I am not.
Only later.
Only alone.
Fasano Hotel, Deluxe Suite.
Saturday, April 10th, 2010.
12.07 p.m.
Ethan yanked off his sweaty clothes and got in the cold water, not caring about the temperature of the shower.
The noise that burst agonizingly from his throat surprised him.
He never cried, much less sobbed. Since that fateful day he discovered Eve’s betrayal. He had promised himself he would never let a woman hurt him again.
But it was uncontrollable.
He dropped to his knees under the water and cried as if he were a child with his face in his hands.
He had been used all his life and then thrown away like spoilt goods, without a thought from the ones that were supposed to care for him.
He couldn’t believe Sophia was doing the same thing.
I am the one who brought you back to life, Sophia. I am the one who made you happy. You said so yourself. And you’re turning your back on me. Like all the others. Like all the others.
In his mind, Ethan concluded she didn’t care for the deep feelings he had for her.
He shouted out in pain and banged his fists on his thighs as he sobbed.
He was sure Alistair MacCraig was not the man for her.
The man is not trustworthy, Sophia. He’s a creep with unusual sexual preferences. He’ll make you suffer. You’re too innocent for the likes of him. I am the one for you. I am the only one you should love, Sophia.
What was left of his rational personality had been divided into two separate beings. Ethan felt torn apart, as two different sides coexisted inside his soul and fought for control, two parts of himself that he didn’t usually acknowledge.
His gentle side, which had survived the lies and abuse of his parents and grandfather, wanted Sophia to be happy with whomever she wished.
His confused and frustrated side, moulded by the constant bullying and lack of love, selfishly wanted Sophia all to himself.
Once again, Ethan had lost control of his life. He had failed himself.
After a long time, he rose and finished his shower, drying himself without looking in the mirror. He wrapped a towel around his lean waist and picked up the telephone, gazing at it absentmindedly for a moment before calling the concierge and turning to the mirror.
A cold smiling face with a raised eyebrow stared at him from inside the mirror.
“Good morning. Do you have round the clock CCTV surveillance?”
Rio de Janeiro, São Conrado. São Conrado Fashion Mall.
3.30 p.m.
Alistair immediately felt something was off when Sophia stopped and stiffened beside him. The hand he was holding became suddenly cold. He gazed at her.
She was pale and staring straight ahead at a couple that was coming in their direction.
“What is it?” he asked concerned.
Sophia was rooted to the ground and looked like she would faint. The bags with her new bikinis fell to the floor. Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Sophia?” He stepped in front of her. “Sophia?” He grabbed her right arm and shook it. “Who are they?”
“Get me out of here, please,” she whispered.
“Sophia!” A polite and cultured female voice, called, “É você, Sophia querida?”
Yes, it’s me. Sophia moaned and closed her eyes. Just the sight of the couple made her senses raw. Too late.
A blonde middle-aged woman, tastefully dressed, with startling beautiful blue eyes had stopped by their side.
Alistair looked over his shoulder. The man had halted a few feet away. He let go of Sophia’s arm, moved aside and brought her closer to him with an arm around her waist. She had turned even paler.
“Rose.” Sophia acknowledged the woman with a taut nod. “How are you?”
Alistair felt her shudder when she spoke the woman’s name.
Raising her chin and setting her shoulders back, Sophia made an elegant gesture in Alistair’s way. “May I present you the Marquis of Ells, Lord Alistair Connor Davenport MacCraig, my fiancé.”
Marquis? Lord? What the fuck? Who is this woman?
Looking at Alistair, she motioned to Rose with a dismissive flick of her wrist, “Lord Ells, this is Rose Leibowitz.”
Oh, fuck!
“Fiancé? Lo-lord?” The woman stuttered in a squeak, but quickly recovered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord,” she replied in perfect English and didn’t extended her hand, as he did not.
Without a smile, he nodded briefly. “How do you do, Mrs. Leibowitz?” It’s a displeasure to meet you.
“Sophia, querida-”
Dear? Dear, my ass. “In English, please, dear,” Sophia sneered.