Unbroken Love

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The Harlequin Suite

3:52 a.m.

“You need me,” she whispered in his ear, shedding her clothes but for the bright starry high-heel stilettos.

Not anymore. He tried to tell her, but the words didn’t come out. Every nerve in his body had been uncapped and sensitive; his stomach was on fire with venom; but his lust had been awakened. I don’t want you anymore.

Her chocolate eyes watched his. They seemed to be demanding a confession as she crawled down his body and took him in her mouth.

He willed his body not to respond to the stimulus to no avail.

He was a grown man and had learned to like it. He got erect and aroused.

And he hated himself for it.

He climaxed in her mouth and bile rose in his throat as he saw the chocolate-brown change to soft-blue.

“You see? You like a good f*****g blow job,” she said, and slurped loudly as if his p***s was a lollipop. “I’m better than she will ever be.”

She sat on his stomach, rubbing herself on him, and crushed his lips with hers, her tongue probing his mouth to find entrance.

He needed air but he would never give her the pleasure of getting inside his heart. It had been given. And he didn’t want it back.

“Why do you resist me? I love you.” The soft-blue eyes begged for something he would not give her. “I’ve given you my heart. You have to give yours back to me.”

He would resist her. But he was unable to fulfill his primal urge to escape. He was being held by three pairs of hands, all over him. Sweet, delicate hands.

He kept his lips sealed, willing his mind blank and his heart void.

“You’s no better than I.”

The flawed English and strong Greek accent startled him and he saw a different pair of eyes, bright azure eyes, which he hated with all his being.

It was then that she slapped him.

Ethan sat up in bed, gulping air into his closed throat, a bitter taste filling his mouth. He rose and walked to the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth. Still the acrid taste lingered. He went to the living room, picked up a bottle of water and he threw himself in the armchair, putting his legs on its footstool.

Let them all be damned. Eve, Barbara, and Calista. He was still trembling from the nightmare. He drank from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It’s not water I need.

He picked up a bottle of Blue Label whisky and sat back, drinking directly from it. The liquid burned down his throat and he drank more.

And more.

Before the sun stretched its pale rays on the horizon, Ethan had passed out in the living room, completely drunk.

Craigdale Caisteal

5:33 a.m.

Sophia came back from the bathroom and curled in on herself, drawing her knees against her chest. She tried to relax and sleep a bit, but it was useless. Cramps she had forgotten about were coming in hot waves.

I hate this. She shook Alistair’s shoulder gently. “Alistair Connor. Wake up.”

“Hmm?” he groggily murmured. “What?”

“I need some pain killers. Please,” she moaned.

He instantly sat up, turning on the dim light. “Was it too soon? Did I hurt you? What are you feeling?”

“Calm down, I just have a headache,” she lied.

It’s not a headache, but you’ll tell me later. As he walked to the dressing room to get some medicine and water, he thought again how Sophia and Tavish were alike with those little lies of theirs, trying not to bother others with their problems.

“Here. This will make you feel better.”

When he lay down again, he drew her close, wrapping one arm around her and keeping her snug to the warmth of his body. He nuzzled her until her body relaxed in his arms.

“You make me feel better,” she whispered. Sophia loved being close to him and found comfort in his strong and careful ways.

Almost as if he knew what she was feeling, Alistair started to rub her stomach.

As she closed her eyes to sleep, Sophia thought of how wonderful it would be to give him a baby.

A muffled knock on the door cut into Alistair’s thoughts. He had been awake for half an hour, enjoying the feel of having Sophia in his arms.

He woke her up with a tender kiss.

She stretched lazily, smiling up at him. “Good morning, Handsome.”

“Feeling better?”

She nodded and returned the kiss. “Nurse MacCraig, you have magical hands. You’re my personal magician.”

“Thanks,” he smiled smugly. “Gabriela is outside, Beauty.”

“Hey, don’t you get too convinced.” She stretched again, yawning. “Open the door for her while I step into the bathroom. She can open her special gift from us in here, okay?”

“Just a minute,” he shouted, jumping out of bed. He shoved his legs into his jeans and hurriedly pulled a T-shirt over his head, opening the door to welcome an eager Gabriela.

Wearing a thick plush white jacket with a hoodie with delicate green leaves embroidered over a red turtleneck sweater and trousers, Gabriela was the epitome of Christmas spirit.

“Good morning, Daddy,” she entered the room, toed off her flats and stepped delicately on his bare foot. Hugging his strong leg, she beamed at him, “Come downstairs so we can open our gifts.”

“In a few minutes.” Alistair closed the door and walked with her propped on his foot. Her giggles filled the big room and Alistair’s heart. “Santa left a special gift for you here with a note.”

Sophia came out of the dressing room with a big green box from Harrods with a red and green bow tied around it. She paused to enjoy the homely scene; Alistair was running his hands through his long midnight-black hair, trying to tame it, while Gabriela, perched on his foot, was talking excitedly about how many gifts Santa had left under the Christmas tree.

“Good morning, Angel.”

Gabriela squealed, running toward her and hopping from one foot to another, excited. Impatiently she asked, “Can I see my special gift? Did you see Santa?”

“Now, where is my good-morning kiss?” Sophia asked, dropping to her haunches to receive many little kisses on her face and a very tight hug from her daughter.

“Now, can I open it?”

The three of them sat on the rug. Handing her a small red envelope, Sophia said, “First, read the card.”

“Dear Gabriela, This is a spe-cial gift. Part of a se-cret. San-ta Claus.” Gabriela tilted her head to the side. “I don’t understand, Mamãe.”

“You will,” Alistair said, helping her untie the bow.

Her curiosity grew and showed on her face as she lifted the lid off the box, undid a smaller red bow and peeled back the layers of green tissue paper. She peered inside and her light blonde eyebrows furrowed.

There was another hamper inside, this time made of natural wicker.

Alistair removed the hamper from the box, putting it on the floor in front of her. He lowered the small handle and undid the loops that closed the box. “Now, open it.”

Gabriela looked expectantly from Alistair to Sophia, who encouraged her with a smile. Carefully, the little girl opened the lid and peered inside. Her heart-shaped mouth dropped open in awe.

Inside the box there was a doll, with a remarkable resemblance to a sleeping one month old baby girl, with just a shadow of real black hair, wearing a long white dress, with all the things a baby could need.

As her daughter didn’t move, Sophia stifled a smile and picked up the doll as if it were a real baby in the crook of her arm, cuddling it against her breast.

When the doll opened its green eyes, Gabriela exclaimed, “But you didn’t get fat!”

Alistair laughed. “Fairy, this is a doll for you to take care of while your mother gets fat.”

“I will not get fat.” She slapped his bicep. “Stop saying that.”

Gabriela turned her head to Alistair, still with a flabbergasted look in her eyes. “She will, won’t she?”

With an impossibly happy grin, he took the doll from Sophia’s arm and put it on Gabriela’s and brought the little girl onto his lap. “Aye, Gabriela, she will. Now, let me show you how you carry your baby doll properly.”

Sophia was enthralled, watching a sunray touch the entwined hairs of her husband and daughter. They were a striking contrast between light and dark. Alistair’s was still messy from sleep, thick ink-black locks falling over his forehead and eyes; Gabriela’s white-blonde hair was combed neatly with a tiny white bow securing it on one side.

Sophia felt then she was on her way to paradise.

The Elm Courtyard

11:37 a.m.

The snow that had been falling steadily since the night before and had left the courtyard painted in white.

After changing into their skiing clothes, Gabriela and Ariadne announced that they wanted to make snow angels and ran outside with Alistair and Sophia. After a few minutes of feeling envious, Michael huffed and informed them he was joining the girls because they didn’t know how to make proper snow angels and he would teach them.

Sophia and Alistair laughed at the poor excuse. He sat on the bench and snuggled her on his body as they watched the children play.

Lachlann and Tavish came out of the Game Room, drawn by the happy sounds and squeals and joined the adults.

“Okay, children, enough playing in the snow for today,” Sophia announced after a while. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“Aaah, Mama, you’re such a party pooper.” Gabriela pulled her hand. She looked at Alistair, who was helping Michael get up. He only shook his head, straightening up.

“Just a little bit more. Pleeease,” asked Ariadne.

Behind his brother’s back, Tavish looked at the children and put his index finger against his mouth. He made a snowball, and threw it, hitting Alistair right in the middle of his shoulders.

Sophia and the children laughed out loud.

Alistair pivoted on his heels to glare at those who were behind him.

Purposely, Tavish was still brushing his gloves, with a naughty smile on his lips.

“Oh, really?” He squinted and lowered himself, picking up a handful of snow with a naughty grin. This reminds me of such happy times. “Prepare yourself.”

Another snowball whizzed past Alistair’s arm and hit Tavish in the middle of the chest. They turned in the direction it had come from. Sophia was looking heavenward, whistling.

In a few moments, the calm, peaceful courtyard was a snowball battlefield.

“See what you started?” Alistair mumbled to Gabriela, who was hidden with him behind one of the elms.

Gabriela giggled, and picking up the ball he offered her, threw it in Lachlann’s direction, the one closest to her.

“Jesus! Are you all children?” Alice shouted. “Father, you should know better.”

The children, Lachlann, Tavish, Alistair, and Sophia froze.

“You’re all soaking and—” A snowball hit her from behind.

Leonard was leaning on the wall near a three-ball snowman. When Alice glared at him, he put up his wet gloved hands. He calmly informed her, “Not me. It was him.”

“No, it wasn’t, it was them,” Tavish pointed toward Ariadne and Sophia.

Alice rolled her eyes at the two of them and shrugged. The wetness was worth the happiness she could see once more in the faces of her family. Grinning, she towed the children inside, saying that she was going to soak them in a nice, hot bath before lunch.

Laughing, Lachlann and Leonard followed her.

Tavish slung an arm over Sophia’s shoulders, not caring about Alistair’s grunt as the three of them also headed back inside. “So, when are those beautiful twin sisters of yours coming here again?”

Alistair stopped and turned, raising a questioning eyebrow at Tavish. “Don’t you think they are too young for you?”

“Hmm, maybe.” His lips opened in a mischievous grin and he asked, “Don’t you think Sophia is too young for you?”

Sophia’s laughter tinkled on the courtyard as she elbowed Tavish and put her arms around Alistair’s neck. “Touché!”

He pulled her up flush to his body. “I’m going to give you touché later.”

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

10:54 p.m.

Again? He braced himself on his elbow. “Sophia, look at me.”

But she didn’t move, curled up on his side.

What the f**k is happening? “Will you tell me why you’ve been so distant since Saturday?” Not even sleeping naked?

Dammit, Alistair Connor. Sophia sighed, keeping her eyes closed. “I have a migraine, I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Ah, aye. Of course. A migraine that starts only when you come to bed.” Gripping her chin in his hand, he turned her face toward his. “Stop lying, Sophia. You’re getting me tied in knots here. I know that there will be days when you’re tired or you don’t feel like it. But you spent the last days taking painkillers and now you’re feigning sleep. I don’t know if I should call a doctor or if I’ve done something wrong.”

That made her eyes snap wide open. Really? “God, Alistair Connor. Stop this.”

“Then tell me what’s the problem.”

“All right, you want to know?! I’m having my period.”

This is wonderful. The look on his face was one of incredulity and his heart drummed in his ears. He whispered, “Already? Is it coming normally? Or just sparse? When did it start?”

Oh, dear! This is not a man’s business, Alistair Connor. She shrugged. Don’t be childish, Sophia. He’s being sweet. “It’s irregular, it started on the twenty-fifth, and it’s probably going to end in a day or so.”

His eyes darkened in concern. “Should we call John? Should we do something?” Should I start taking notes?

“Are you going to be this paranoid during the whole process?” Please! It’s just my period. I’m not in labor.

He fell back on the pillows, stunned by his own reaction.

She rolled over his body and faced him. “Relax, Lord Worrisome. Promise me? Everything is going to be okay.”

“I promise not to worry. Much.” Is every minute not too much? Can I put a GPS under your skin?

Oh, damn. Another overbearing husband. She smiled wryly and lowered her head to tenderly kiss his mouth. Breaking it, she murmured on his lips, “What will happen when it’s time to go to the hospital?”

Christ! The labor. The pain. The baby. With the last thought, his eyes misted. He inhaled deeply, but he couldn’t compose himself. “Hmm...” I don’t have the least idea. “I—I’ll hold you. I—I’ll call John, Tavish Uilleam, Alice, my father, your family—”

Oh, dear God. “The Queen too?”

“Maybe,” he joked, relaxing a bit. “Just know one thing, mo chridhe: I’ll be there beside you. I’ll hold your hand, anything you need, I’ll do my best to provide—”

She put a finger on his dark-pink lips with an adoring look on her face. “Are you going to cry?”

Smart, Wife. He rolled with her, caging her in his forearms. With a crooked smile, he stated, unashamedly, “Probably. Much more than you will.”

“Don’t worry, then. I don’t cry when I’m happy.”

He shook his head, amazed, kissed her once more before turning her and spooning behind her. “I love you, mo chridhe, mo gràdh, mo bheatha.”

She adored it when he said she was his heart, his love, his life. She snuggled against him, whispering, “I love you too. You’re my everything.”

Ashford Steel Industries, The Greek Meeting Room

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

10:55 a.m.

“Do you know why you’re going to meet all our demands? Because you have a good f*****g reason to. If you fail, I’m going to making the photos and both birth certificates public,” said Calista in her flawed English, fed up by Ethan not transferring a single pound to their account since December. Plus, they had not been able to contact Eve again. She thought it had been a mistake not acting immediately and securing the woman’s confession. Calista and George had tried to contact Ethan, but their calls were not answered and their cards were returned unopened. So, this morning they were already waiting for their son in the Ashford Steel reception hall.

In his already drink-induced, numb state of mind, Ethan considered asking security to throw them out on the street. However, to avoid a scene he had agreed to talk to them. Nonetheless, he was hardly listening to their harsh threats as he drank from a tall glass of neat whisky. At his mother’s threat, he just shrugged. Do it. I don’t care anymore.

Calista was tapping her nails on the photograph of Demetrius’s face with so much anger that they were leaving marks on it. “You’re going to winding up eating this, you little motherfucker.”

Motherfucker? You wish, you p*****t.

“We want the wire transfer done now,” George sneered at him, “or you will be unmasked as a pedophile. How about that for a man that supports abused women and children, you bastard?”

“I didn’t know I was a bastard.” Ethan laughed humorlessly and gulped his whisky. His eyes were burning with contained hatred. It’s time to be a man, Ashford. Stop running from your past. “Do you know, Calista, who Demetrius’s father really is?”

She looked at him surprised.

“Go on, mum. Gueeess,” he slurred. “Doesn’t he remind you of someone else from a long time ago?”

Calista didn’t understand for a minute. Then she whipped her head to look at George and back at the photo. Her jaw slacked and a gurgled sound came out from her throat.

“Say goodbye to your wealthy lifestyle. If you ever give this to the press, say goodbye to your fine reputation, too. She was sixteen when she was with you in one of your orgies.”

George’s and Calista’s eyes widened involuntarily when he mentioned Eve’s age.

“Bullshit,” she laughed nervously. “It’s not f*****g possible.”

“Holy f*****g s**t!” George hissed at the same time. “How the f**k do you know that?”

“STOP!” Ethan shouted. Calm yourself, Ashford. Draining the rest of his whisky, he said in a lower tone, “Stop cursing. You will talk properly in front of me. Understand?”

They nodded, speechless.

“One more thing. If you ever touch another under-aged girl, or boy, for that matter, and it doesn’t matter if they’re supposedly there of their own free will, I’ll turn you over to the police. How about a few months in jail?”

When they just nodded again, Ethan banged his fist on the table. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” The word came out of their mouths in unison.

“Right now you should be congratulating yourselves that I’m letting you keep my grandmother’s house.”

George was so scared that he decided he had to mollify Ethan. “Thank you, Ethan.”

Thank you? “You’re welcome. Let me tell you the best part of our meeting.” I want to see you thanking me. Ethan leaned back on his tall chair and glared at them. “I would never give you another pound. You would only be allowed to stay in Grandma’s house if you behave. I don’t care if you debase yourselves but you’re not debauching any child or teenager, or forcing yourselves on poor women. To make sure of this, I’ll be checking up on you. Cameras will be put in the house and I’ll be informed daily of your activities. You’ll have to report your coming and going. If you ever, just once, step out of the boundaries, I will exert my right and evict you from the house, besides reporting you to the police. Understood?”

They listened to every syllable Ethan was saying with incredulity and terror descending over them. All they could do was nod.

“Now, go. Never come back again. Enjoy the rest of my life.” Ethan laughed when he finished.

The sound rushed over his parents like a rumble that announced a tempest.

Leibowitz Oil Building, In the garage

Inside Sophia’s Jaguar

4:05 p.m.

“Home, Mrs. MacCraig?” Through the intercom, Zareb’s voice cut into Sophia’s thoughts.

She had just scrolled down her messages and found one from Scott. It had arrived when she was getting into the car and didn’t hear it.

Scott Mulberry. 3:44 p.m. - Mr. Ashford needs your help. Pls, come. I don’t know what to do anymore.

“Hold on a sec, Zareb.” Sophia bit her lip, unsure of what to do. She was a married woman. She should not be going to apartments, much less to hotel suites of single men. Worse, a single man who had been her lover.

She called Alistair but he didn’t answer.

She called Scott.

When he told her what was happening, she informed Zareb she was heading to The Dorchester. She picked up her iPhone to send a message to Alistair, but decided against it as she didn’t know what his reaction would be. It’d be better if she explained everything to him afterward at home.

The Harlequin Suite

4:28 p.m.

“Wake up, please, Ethan!” Sophia tightened her grip on his arms, shaking him.

He responded to gentle nudging with a snort and a slap on one of her hands, without opening his eyes. “Go away.”

Ethan was sprawled sideways on the ivory suede sofa; an empty bottle of Blue Label whisky was on the table. His tie was undone, hanging around his neck, and his white shirt was open and stained with whisky.

“God, Scott. Why didn’t you call me earlier? How long has he been like this?”

“He’s been having some terrible problems, Sophia. Private matters. According to the hotel, he came back around half past twelve. At a quarter past two, he ordered another bottle of whisky. I tried to contact him at around three. When he didn’t answer, I decided to see what was happening.”

“Shhhhh!” Ethan hissed and fell asleep again in a drunken stupor.

She sat on the floor near Ethan’s head, combing her fingers through his silky, sun-kissed hair, and whispered to Scott, “What kind of problems? His parents again?”

Scott didn’t know what he should say, but he always felt comfortable around Sophia and knew she liked Ethan a lot despite what had happened between them. He sat on the small ottoman next to her, and in a hushed tone, told her a lighter version of what had happened to Ethan since their break-up.

How he managed to tell Sophia everything, omitting the fact that Ethan had hired a hacker, had stalked her, paid a woman to pose as his girlfriend, and another to fulfill his s****l needs, not even Scott himself knew.

Dubai, In a dimly lit room

5:16 p.m.

Ghost thrived in creating havoc in other people’s lives.

Or, as he liked to think, he was just exposing sinful people’s flaws. The fact that he earned money with it made it even more pleasurable, but the most important piece of his game was a person who was demanding and difficult to please and to understand. Uóchington Silva said all his whims should be met because he was Uó, Aw of the Borogodó.

What that meant, Ghost couldn’t guess. Uó tried to explain himself but they were having serious communication issues.

He started to type quickly and his lips curled up as he sent an encrypted email.

_____________________________________________________

From: g@phantom.co.uk January 11, 2011 at 5:24 p.m.

To: 28022008@hotmail.com

Subject: communication issues!!

_____________________________________________________

I need a translator in London. Immediately. It’d better be you.