At her comments, Ethan threw his head back and the laugh that came from within his soul was so genuine that it attracted attention. How I love you, Sophia.
Sophia’s smile relaxed and opened in a grin. That’s all he needs: support. “What is your table number? I’ll personally direct you there and see that you are seated with people with the same taste as yours.”
An exhilarating mirth took control of him, and Ethan shook the hand of the next guest with one of the biggest grins of his life.
“Fuck,” Tavish whispered, “fucking unbelievable.”
Lachlann gazed up to rebuke his son’s language, but there was such an enraged look on Tavish’s face that it surprised him. He followed the direction of his son’s stare and immediately jumped into action, pulling Tavish in tow.
“Smile,” he ordered Tavish as they made their way to Sophia. “You take Sophia away while I help Alistair Connor.”
Tavish almost harrumphed. “Why doesn’t anybody trust me to handle her?”
“Because you’d kill her,” his father answered in a low voice. “I’ve never seen you hate someone so much.”
“And you don’t?” Tavish asked surprised, as they walked as quickly as they could without calling attention.
Lachlann didn’t have to think to answer, “Is it worth it?”
Tavish’s hand clutched Sophia’s elbow firmly as soon as the couple she was greeting moved on to their assigned table. “Your PR needs to talk with you.”
Without knowing, he had used the same excuse she had to get Ethan away from Calista and George.
Sophia frowned. “Who is in my greeting line?”
Tavish gaped at her for a moment. “You’re too fucking smart for your own good.”
Alistair’s spine went ramrod straight when he saw Devon signaling to Steven and both made their way calmly in their direction.
On the arm of the same peer of the House of Lords who had taken her to the opening of The Blue Dot Gallery, Emma batted her lashes and opened an innocent smile a few feet away from them.
Oh, no. Dizziness blanketed Sophia and she swayed on her feet.
“Shit!” Alistair said under his breath when he saw how pale she had become. With his arm wrapped around her waist, he pushed her onto Tavish’s chest. “Take her away.”
In a heartbeat, Steven was beside Tavish and Sophia.
“Don’t you pass out on me, Sophia.” Tavish was praying she wouldn’t faint in the middle of the ballroom. “Although I’d love the opportunity tae carry you in my arms, I’d prefer to do it in private.”
The joke hadn’t had the effect he expected because she leaned more heavily on his arm.
“Breathe. Just two steps now.”
He entered the Gold Room. Steven stayed outside and pulled the door closed.
Tavish sat her down on the sofa. With a hand on her nape he pushed her head down. “Push back, Sophia.”
After a long moment, she said in a wan voice, “I’m better.”
“How is she?” asked Alistair, bursting through the door.
“I am—”
“Hush,” said Tavish, helping her sit. “Lie down for a few minutes.”
Stubbornly, she remained seated with her head back. “Who’s greeting our line?”
“Ashley. Most of the guests have arrived.” He sat beside her other side and picked up her hand. “I’ve changed places and I’m sitting by you. Steven and Devon are already on stand-by.”
“As are all the generals, lieutenants-colonels, and soldiers of your army,” Tavish finished.
“You have been promoted to general, Lord Arrogance,” she whispered to him, smiling.
Tavish smiled back. He knew he deserved the nickname.
That’s enough, Sophia. Sophia sighed. Don’t be so squeamish. “All right. Let’s go, my Lords Generals.”
As she re-entered the ballroom, she wondered what Emma was planning. She knew it didn’t matter who was on stand-by, Emma was going to do something.
Dinner had been scrumptious. A band quietly played between the two Terra Cotta warriors statues. The talk and laughter was flowing smoothly as wine, and champagne filled the glasses uninterruptedly.
Calista and George were having great fun. They were listed as the companions of a sponsor and a notorious English painter that had bought a table only for him, which hid their names from the main list. They hadn’t approached Ethan, who eventually relaxed.
As for Emma, she never turned in Alistair’s direction. Or Sophia’s.
Just before dessert was served, the band stopped for a few minutes and Scott appeared at the microphone, asking for everyone’s attention, and introduced Ethan, Sophia, and Alistair, who stood up and walked to the stage.
All right, Sophia MacCraig. Improvisation time. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. As we all know, we’re gathered here to support abused children, women, and if possible, their families, in India and China through a joint venture of Ashford Steel and Sophia Leibowitz Foundation. At both the Foundation and Ashford Steel online sites, under the name Charity for India and China there’s extensive information. I’ll keep this short so we can all start on our desserts, my favorite part of any meal. First I’d like to ask our sponsors to stand up.”
Chairs moved back as artists and wealthy persons, CEOs and representatives from different companies stood up as Sophia named them.
“Thank you so much for your help,” Sophia’s smile lingered over each one of them; Ethan and Alistair started to applaud and the whole room followed.
“I’d also like to thank the employees and volunteers of Sophia Leibowitz Foundation, Leibowitz Oil, and Ashford Steel who worked on this project. And, especially, all the waiters in this room, who declined to receive payment, a most special thank you. You’ve helped our cause and made it possible for us to have such a wonderful evening tonight. Please, ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause for them.” There was a surprised collective gasp and all the guests rose to applaud.
Sophia made sure the waiters would receive more than their normal wage by putting an envelope for tips on the tables. She knew now the tips would be more than generous. She smiled and waited for the applause to die down to continue, “I know that you are here because you support our cause. However, I’d like to say that it’s not only children and women who are abused. Many times I’ve considered broadening our assistance to protect abused men too.” For example, the two here flanking me. Sophia knew she had to finish up because the cause had turned personal. “But there is so much we can do. Children are individuals, yes; but yet, a child is the best of two persons united in one. They are not only our future; they represent our lost innocence and our hope for a better society. This magical and unrelenting faith in our capacity to breathe life into the world cannot be lost. So we, as adults, have an obligation to protect the little ones from harm, and to help them find their own path in a better world we should strive to leave for them. I’m happy to see so many conscious of these matters. I’d like to end by quoting a poem, by pastor Martin Niemöller.”
As if planned, Alistair put his hand around Sophia’s waist and Ethan put his on her right shoulder.
“‘First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out because I was not a communist. Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me, but there was no one left to speak for me.’” She made a slight pause to gather her wits and ended huskily, “Let’s always have the courage to speak out for those who are treated unfairly. Thank you.”
Sophia entered the restroom and smiled at her own image. The party had turned out to be a bigger success than she had imagined. Adele’s show had been impressive and most of the guests had been compelled to dance when David Guetta started to play and she could still hear his irresistible music calling her.
She patted some water on her face and reapplied her make-up.
She exited the ro
om and halted. Her passage was blocked by Steven’s and Devon’s backs.
“Is everything okay?” she whispered almost afraid.
When they moved to let her pass, she sighed. Thank God. Then she rebuked herself for her unnecessary paranoid behavior. Stop, Sophia.
Discretely, her bodyguards disappeared before she entered the ballroom. Knowing they would be watching, she relaxed and stopped at some tables to make small talk with the few guests that were seated, refreshing themselves or taking a break from dancing. Alistair and Ethan were also wandering and her table was almost empty but for a young couple. She smiled at them when she sat down and picked up her glass of wine, noticing a folded piece of paper that had been under the glass.
When she opened it, her smile vanished.
Isn’t she insistent? Her hand shook as she read the message. She didn’t know if she was enraged or unnerved.
Check your email. Nice photos, aren’t they?
You don’t want them leaked to the press.
Come alone. You know where.
A friend
She fingered her glass of wine and drank a huge gulp. No. I don’t want them leaked to the press.
She put the note in her bag and stood up. Immediately, she saw from the corner of her eye that Devon and Steven had moved. She smiled at them and shook her head. Walking calmly and very slowly, she exited the room with her cell phone in her hand.
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-fuck 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 sexual 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 takin
g 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 fucking 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.