Unbroken Love

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Emma saw when Sophia read her message and made her way back to the corridor that led to the restrooms, looking at her iPhone screen. She waited for a few minutes to make sure that her bodyguards and Alistair hadn’t left the room.

As she walked lithely across the room, Emma smiled at a few men she knew, ensuring she was seen.

She had photos of them. She had notes of their secrets. She may need to call on some one day and had to remain fresh on their minds. All of the men who had been to her apartment had been photographed, filmed, and informed afterwards.

In the corridor, she paused at a mirror and admired her own face. She smacked her red lips, murmuring to herself, “There are few who learn.”

She moved to the lady’s room.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

12:01 a.m.

“Hello, Emma,” said Sophia ironically, from the other end of the room when Emma entered and put a heavy chair blocking the door. No luck with the lock? “Aren’t you going to lock the door?”

“Aren’t we witty tonight?” Emma remarked and sensuously leaned on the sink, putting her purse there.

“I can see your purse is very small,” Sophia jutted her chin to it. “No knife? Or maybe it is strapped to your panties?”

“Ah. The real Sophia. How I like hearing you talk like this, bitch.” An evil smile appeared on Emma’s face. “By the way, a tip: don’t wear panties. Men like to finger-f**k real women under the table.”

Right. Enough, Sophia. “I presume you’re going to delete all the files from your computer.”

“After you credit my account with half-a-million.”

“Oh. And I was so worried…only half-a-million pounds? That’s so cheap.” As you are.

“You’re not afraid, are you?”

Sophia tutted and shook her head.

Emma was taken aback with Sophia’s courage. She straightened and unhurriedly raised the hem of her flowing, almost transparent mermaid blood-red dress. Strapped to her inner thigh was a very thin sliding knife. “You shouldn’t mess with me, bitch.”

Sophia shuddered when Emma slid open the blade. Her knees buckled and she managed to steady herself with her hands on the wall. In a trembling voice, she observed, “Such a knife fetish you have.”

Emma stepped in Sophia’s direction.

The doors of the stalls burst open and Tavish and Leonard exited from them, sandwiching Emma.

Emma yelped, startled.

From behind her, Tavish grabbed her wrist in a breaking vise. “Drop it.”

The knife fell to the floor. Leonard knelt down and took his handkerchief from his pocket.

Emma raised her chin, and said daringly, “I told you to come alone.”

“Do I look stupid?” Sophia answered with a trembling smile.

“You’ll regret this. You’ve seen the photos—”

“No.” Sophia smiled, triumphant. “I have not.”

“But I saw—”

Sophia snickered. “You saw me messaging Leonard and Tavish Uilleam. I refuse to be a part of your dirty linen games, Emma. Play them alone.”

Leonard rose with the knife carefully wrapped in his handkerchief and put it in his pocket. His anger was palpable when the sentences came out in staccato, “I’ll give this to Alistair. As a memento. Tavish will take good care of you. I’m sure.”

Leonard walked Sophia out. Neither of them looked back.

Tavish twisted Emma’s arm behind her back and pushed her against the wall.

“You’re hurting me,” she whispered.

“Good.” he pulled her arm up harder. “I’ve been told ye like pain.”

There was that huge, rugged man leaning heavily on her against the marble wall. Anyone who came in would think they were making out. She should feel lust, she should be eager, but for the first time in her life, Emma was afraid of what a man could do to her. Her body trembled when he turned her so he could look into her eyes.

He lowered his face so their noses were an inch apart. In a low, startlingly even voice, he told her, “Ye are so ugly inside that your beauty disappears. Every part of you is rotten. Do ye have any idea how much I loathe ye? I doona f*****g care that you abused your sister. But ye killed my niece, ye destroyed my brother’s and my mother’s lives. You’re no’ going tae hurt anyone else in my family anymore. If you do, you fuckin’ cunt, I swear tae ye now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Because I’ll pay to turn your life into a living fuckin’ hell. Do ye understand?”

She nodded, locking her knees to hold herself upright as fear rushed through her veins, giving her the chills.

“We are heading to that f*****g brothel my brother gave you.”

“My-my apartment?” Emma could barely speak; she was stammering from fear.

As Tavish’s threats became even more harsh, Emma whimpered.

But he was past caring. He would not let her walk away without giving him all the videos and photos she had.

Tavish put her hand on his arm and forced a smile on his face. “Smile and behave, we’re leaving. And you’ll never, ever come near them again.”

As she walked by his side to the Park Lane entrance, surrounded by luxury, she knew she had lost.

How much, only time would tell.

Emma Miller’s Apartment

12:28 a.m.

Tavish looked around, disgusted. He had never imagined how far his brother had gone. “For once, these many torture devices are going tae serve a purpose.”

He pushed Emma to the cross of St. Andrew and shackled her to it.

Searching her apartment, he opened all the drawers and then moved to the dressing room. She whimpered. He didn’t know if she was afraid of what he was going to do, if she was in pain, or if he had just found where she was hiding everything. He pushed all the clothes to one side and started to knock on the wooden panels at the back. His hands easily located the crevice and pushed. A safe appeared. “Code.”

“For what?”

“Doona try me, Emma,” he growled.

She gave him the numbers and it opened soundlessly. Inside there was money, jewels, many USB sticks, and documents. Tavish shoved the flash drives in his tuxedo pocket and leafed through the documents, snorting as he found small notebooks with many names, telephone numbers, and s****l preferences jotted down; and an envelope with a safety deposit box key and the number and address of a bank in Switzerland. He took them too.

“Password,” he demanded, sitting on the bed with her notebook on his lap. She informed him and he changed the password to one of his. “I’m taking the computer. I’ll be checking up on you.” He gave her a thoughtful look and bared his teeth to scare her a bit more. “Ye know I have been in a psych ward, don’t ye? That I’m a war psycho.”

Emma absolutely believed he was. “I’d never judge you—”

“Better ye f*****g doona. Just keep in mind that I’m crazy.” There wasn’t a sliver of doubt in her eyes when he leaned forward towering over her. “One more thing. If something—anything—happens to any of them…if I ever find out you’ve been near Sophia or my family again…” Tavish made a throat-slitting motion.

Emma knew he would make good on his promise. She was beginning to feel very ill.

Because she knew there was no way out from the rabbit hole she had eagerly jumped into.

The Park Suite

In Alistair and Sophia’s bedroom

11:21 a.m.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, Alistair slept in late. Usually, by this time, even on weekends, he would have already worked-out and ran for at least one hour.

He slipped his arms around Sophia and she rubbed her cheek on his chest.

“Good morning,” she whispered, looking up at him with a smile. “You were really tired.”

No. I was angry, scared, and ashamed. It took me hours to sleep.

At the end of the ball the night before, Leonard, Tavish, and Sophia gathered in their suite living room to tell Alistair about Emma. Sophia had taken out her cell phone from her purse and asked him to erase the email, avowing she had not seen the photos attached. And he believed her, because afterwards they had made love in the sweetest way.

As the minutes ticked by and he listened to her breathing getting deeper, he had decided to look at the photos before he deleted them. He was shocked. The photos sent to Sophia were graphic ones. He didn’t even remember participating in those scenes. The problem with greed and extortion was that it never ended.

What would she think if she had looked at those pictures? Would she understand? He shooed away the thoughts of the previous night. The only thing that mattered now was keeping her safe. He inhaled deeply and asked, “Gabriela and breakfast?”

“Of course.” She rolled to the edge of the bed and made the calls.

When Gabriela ran into the living room, they had already changed and were having breakfast. She flew into her mother’s arms and spread kisses over her face. “Mamãe, Mamãe. I know what I want for Chanukah next year.”

“Next year? Chanukah is in three days, you mischievous little girl,” Sophia said, messing with her light blonde hair. “Your pony is waiting for you at Richmond.”

“You can even choose its name,” Alistair added.

“I know. This is for next year,” Gabriela nodded. She looked shyly at Alistair and asked in a loud whisper in her mother’s ear, “Can you give me a sister as nice as Ariadne?”

Alistair choked on the croissant he was eating. He washed it down with orange juice and stared unbelievingly at Gabriela, who begged an affirmative answer with happy eyes.

“But—” Sophia was addled. “Chanukah next year—”

“Babies take time to arrive, Mamãe,” Gabriela said it in such a wise way that Sophia was aghast. “You’ll get very fat, you’ll travel for a day, and come home with the baby.”

“I will not get fat. I’ll—It’s—” She flushed bright red, embarrassed.

Alistair tried to contain himself, but his lips curled up and he burst out laughing. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. This girl is absolutely fantastic.

“Yes?” Gabriela asked. “Yes, Daddy?”

Sophia didn’t know if he was having a nervous fit of laughter or if he was really happy. “Now, Gabrie—”

“I can’t promise you a sister,” Alistair cut in with a big smile. “But I can promise you a sibling. A wee one. Is that okay?”

Sophia’s mouth opened and stayed that way. So soon? We haven’t even talked about it properly.

“Can I carry it?” Gabriela’s blue eyes beamed. “Yes, Mama?”

Alistair’s fingers pushed Sophia’s chin up. He breathed in her ear, “Tell her yes.”

“Aaah…” Sophia peered at him and he grinned, confirming. “So…” She cleared her throat and started again. “So…yes, then. But, Gabriela, I—”

“A wee baby,” Gabriela squealed happily and threw her chubby arms around Sophia’s neck.

“Aye,” Alistair answered with a cheerful grin, squeezing Sophia’s shoulder. “Next year.”

Gabriela jumped down and ran to the door to tell everyone about the news when her mother’s voice stopped her.

“Gabriela.” She didn’t know how she managed to speak without betraying her trembling. “No kiss for Alistair?”

The girl ran back again and flung herself in Alistair’s open arms. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome.” If Gabriela didn’t notice Sophia’s unnerved state, he did. He sat her on his knees, regarding her steadily. “Can I ask you something in return?”

Gabriela bobbed her head.

“Let’s keep this as a special secret, between us three, until we are certain when the baby is going to arrive. You’ll be the first to know so you can tell everyone, okay?”

Gabriela grinned even happier.

He quickly changed topics to distract her. “Do you want an apple with honey?”

Alistair had discovered within himself an unlimited well from which he could draw buckets of happiness.

Atwood House

7:56 p.m.

“I’m hungry.” Alistair knocked on Sophia’s bathroom door and put his head inside. “Let’s grab something?”

He almost ignored his rumbling, starving stomach. Sophia had just walked out of the shower, glistening with water.

She wrapped a towel around her body, saying without enthusiasm, “Okay.”

He had seen her brightness diminishing throughout the day. He rubbed his flat stomach as he walked to stop behind her, kissing her neck and passing his arms loosely around her, trying to cheer her up. “Pizza? Saporitalia?”

“No.” She looked at his face in the mirror, but instead of her rugged husband wearing a pink, blue, and gray sweater with dark gray jeans, she saw many other male faces and bodies over his.

Ugly and fat men.

Short and lanky men.

All different kinds of men that didn’t resemble Alistair. She shook her head hard.

“Hey. I understand. No pizza tonight. Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere calm, cozy. Where we can talk.”

“Petrus?”

She shook her head.

“Gordon at Claridges?”

She shook her head again.

“Hélène?”

“Maybe.”

Her lack of eagerness pierced him.

Jesus. Mary. And Joseph. Tell me once and for all. “Okay, Sophia. It’s eight o’clock and I’m done with your silence. What is it?” He searched her eyes in the mirror, but she turned in his arms.

It took a great effort to stare into his eyes and whisper, “I’m afraid.”

Afraid? “Of taking out the IUD? Does it hurt that—”

“No, Alistair Connor. I’m not worried about any pain. Besides, it can’t hurt much more to take it out than to put it in.” She bit her lower lip and chewed it, before exhaling hard. “I’m just surprised at the speed—” I’m petrified. Scared to death. “And I’d never really considered conceiving with sperm from someone I don’t know.” If it’s not yours, I don’t know if I want a baby.

Hmm. I see. “And what do you suggest we do?”

“Adoption.” Nothing.

“Well...” I want to feel our baby growing. I want it to be as beautiful as you. “Why no’, Sophia? You told me yourself it was a viable way to…make up for what I can’t anymore; that we could consider it when we wanted babies.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean…” I can’t change my mind. “Besides, why do we have to start trying this year?”

“Why not? I’ll be thirty-six in February. I’ll probably be thirty-seven by the time the baby’s born.”

An old man. Oh, please! “But—” She interrupted herself. “Can we postpone John’s appointment a bit?” I want to think about this for a while. And I have to consider the legal and psychological aspects of it. “I need more time.”

His disappointment shimmered in his eyes for a brief moment but it was overcome by his love for her. “Of course, mo chridhe. I don’t want you to feel pressured about anything. Especially about this. It was just that when I saw the glow of happiness on your face when I told you about having a baby and when I heard Gabriela’s wish this morning, all I wanted was to see your faces light up in joy, and a baby in your arms. Why don’t we grab something in the kitchen and talk about it?”

“I’m not hungry.” She sighed. “There’s a ham and cheese pie in the refrigerator and I’ve made Gabriela’s chocolate cake. Why don’t you grab a plate and come back while I get dressed?”

Sophia was sitting in the TV room, chewing her lip and gazing at the screen of her MacBook Pro as if she were looking right through it as Alistair came up again.

“Hey, Wife. You know what that does to me.” But she didn’t smile as he expected.

He had time to think while he was downstairs arranging a small picnic for them. He set a huge tray on the center ottoman and sat beside her, putting her notebook on the side table and pulling her into his arms, taking her lip from between her teeth. “I brought you a piece of pie and wine.”

“Thanks, Husband.” She smiled weakly at him.

Okay, mo gràdh. Here we go. “Listen, Sophia. In our culture, manhood is measured by one’s virility and that’s inherently connected with the ability to produce babies. You and I, we know I don’t have any problems with virility. I didn’t want this out because I don’t want my history with Heather brought up again.”

She felt like crying but she held the sadness inside and nodded, “I understand.” I want your baby. A chubby, dark-haired, green-eyed baby to cuddle and raise.

“Plus, we don’t need to do it here. There are clinics in the US that specialize in fertilization. We could take Gabriela to Disney and ask Carol to help us for a few days while we go to the Mayo Clinic and do the insemination.”

“I thought about that. I spent days and days researching when you first told me about your sterility. And I…I was not working this afternoon. I was researching the clinics again.”

My love, you don’t have to carry the burden alone on your shoulders. He sighed. “I saw you crying, Sophia. I thought I should give you some room. I’m sorry. I’d have guessed. The many emotions that must be filling you’re hard to deal with. But believe me when I say I understand the worst of them very well.”

How can you know? You’re not a mother. “And what is that?”

“Loss.”

She gaped at him for a moment before she wound her arms around his neck and burrowed her head in the hollow of his shoulder.

Alistair could feel her hot tears wetting his skin and he smoothed her hair soothingly. “Aye, it f*****g hurts. I feel it too. Grieving takes time, and if you have to work it out, do. However...half of the baby would be forever linked to you, as is Gabriela. And I will not love it less.”

That only made her hug him tighter.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He remembered his father’s words when he told him he was going to propose: ‘What you want is immaterial, Alistair Connor. You shouldn’t rush her into making a life changing decision so quickly.’ His warm hand moved from her hip to her stomach. “I’d like to be a father, from the very beginning. But this will be your choice. Only yours. Take your time to think about it and sort out your feelings. I’ll back you up, whatever you choose.”

How I love you. She was moved by him not imposing his will on her, but, at the same time, she felt compelled to discuss all the points that were also nagging her. She was not used to feeling so unsettled and insecure about her desires. She shifted to look at his face and better judge his reactions. “We’ll have to tell our child from an early age and also the family from the very beginning. How can we keep such a secret? Can you imagine the shock if he or she received that kind of news as a teenager or an adult? Immense, and I dare say, not so easy to overcome. Secrecy is not good. Especially were children are concerned. Our baby has the right to know about…about everything, including its genetic origins.”

Aye, you’re right. “We can tell our families from the beginning. No matter what, she, or he, will be very much loved.” His sigh was full of regret. “I’m done with family secrets that undermine trust and lead to conflict. Heather was my one and last experience.” He paused for a moment, considering all the events that had rushed him into promising a sibling to Gabriela so impulsively.

She wiped her tears with the back of her hands. “Thank you, meu amor.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Your happiness, Gabriela’s and yours, are the only things that matter in my life.” His thumbs wiped away the remaining wetness and he kissed her forehead. “I insist on leaving all options open. This will always be your choice. Insemination or adoption. Or, sweetheart, no baby at all.”

He understands. And then Sophia realized that it was much more than understanding. What Alistair had done was an act of pure, unselfish love. He had stripped himself bare of his desires, and putting his happiness aside, he’d respected her feelings. “Alistair Connor, you’re an amazing man. I love you, you know?”

“I do,” he nodded, content that she had relaxed and was confident in herself again. “I love you too. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.”