Shades of Trust

  All this to defend a dead man. Alistair was impressed with the spirit of defiance and show of strength in someone so much smaller than Ethan. If only Heather had shown half the same loyalty and love for me.

  “Ashford, make room,” John shoved Ethan away and pressed a hand to her shoulder, laying her down again. “And you, Sophia, keep calm and stay down. I’ll call a friend, but you have to promise me you will stop by the clinic for a check-up.”

  “I will.” She closed her eyes, calmer that John had recalled her problem with hospitals, and let him again clean the blood.

  Sophia just broke up with me. Ethan paced away from the sofa, unsteady and dizzy. He poured himself a whisky and downed it in a gulp. Jesus!

  John picked up a clean towel and looked up at Alistair. “Help me here, hold this, and if she moves, hold her down.”

  Alistair leaned over her, pressing down the towel, and pushed her hair away in a caress,, commanding, “Stay still.”

  Ethan poured himself another drink and rolled it around in the glass. “Oh, come on, darling. Let me pay for it. These kinds of services aren’t covered by health insurance—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Ashford! Money is not an issue for her. She’s Gabriel Leibowitz’s widow.” Alexander’s statement caused a silence to descend on the room, except for the low murmur of John’s voice as he spoke on the phone.

  What?! She lied! Ethan was so aghast and hurt that he couldn’t manage to say a word. She lied the whole time!

  Oh, God. Why didn’t I heed Edward’s advice? Sophia’s face blanched, her entire body turned cold, and her eyes flew open. She looked up to regard Alistair’s stunned face and then looked at Alexander.

  “You know me?”

  “Yes. I recognized you when you stepped into the library yesterday,” Alexander confirmed. “Gabriel’s death was a tragedy reported worldwide. And you’re hard to forget, Sophia.”

  “Should I take that as an insult or a compliment?” She tried to lighten the mood. God! Make me disappear!

  “The last ball Leibowitz Oil gave? I was there. Half the men in the ballroom were in love with you the minute you walked in on Gabriel’s arm.” He grinned at her. “The other half, I suppose, were gay.”

  Sophia started to laugh, to just drop her head back on the pillow, a pained groan escaping her throat.

  “If you don’t behave, I will take you to a hospital now,” John admonished. “Change the towels and keep pressure, Alistair. Dr. Longman is on his way. I expect him here in about thirty minutes, forty-five, tops. Do you want some painkillers?”

  “I took an ibuprofen before I came down.”

  “You can have another. This is going to hurt like hell,” he muttered. “I’ll ask Elena for some. Alice, if you could draw the curtains a little bit, it will help. There’s too much light in here.”

  “Why did you lie, Sophia?” Leonard asked, with a hurt look on his face.

  Sophia bit her lip. They deserve some explanations.

  Alice sat by Sophia’s head and raised an eyebrow at her brother, looking pointedly at his hand, which still gripped Sophia’s.

  What? Alistair sustained the look and entwined their fingers, in an explicit demonstration of his stubborn will.

  Alice rolled her eyes heavenward.

  Drawing courage and strength from Alistair, she tried to explain it the best way she could. “I never lied. I am Sophia Santo. Sophia Gonçalves Espírito Santo. Or rather, I was before I married Gabriel and took his name— Oh, it’s a mess!” She sighed and closed her eyes. Never in her whole life had she felt so ashamed. “I was shot. Gabriel was kidnapped and murdered. The criminals, drug dealers, knew all our schedules, Gabriela’s included. As soon as I was able to fly, I fled to protect my daughter.” She gazed around, making eye contact with everyone in the room, ending with Alistair. His impassive face didn’t give her a clue of his feelings. “I only give my married name when absolutely necessary, it’s a matter of survival.”

  The room was silent again, each one of them immersed in their own thoughts.

  Sophia searched for Alice. “Please, Alice, I need to make a phone call.”

  “No way,” answered John, returning to the room with the painkiller and a glass of water. “Here, take these.”

  She struggled to rise on an elbow but the room spun.

  “You stay right where you are,” Alistair said in his deep, low voice, wrapping her in a cocoon of maleness. He helped her drink the water and stayed seated by her waist, not even making room for the doctor. He was so gentle that Sophia felt tears welling in her eyes.

  “Please, I’m expected in London for an urgent meeting. I need to make a phone call.”

  John narrowed his eyes. “Is that true?”

  She exhaled. “There’s been an explosion at one of the platforms in Rio.”

  “Do you want me to place the call for you?” Alice offered.

  “Please. My iPhone is inside my bag. Look for Edward Davidoff’s number.”

  “I’ll do it for her. I know Davidoff,” interceded Alexander. “Ah, Sophia? Who should I say is calling?”

  “Just Sophia.” She started to smile remembering ‘just Chambers’, but her face and head throbbed too much. She bit her lip to control the pain.

  Alistair noticed the movement at once. Delicately, he squeezed her hand again, sharing his warmth and support.

  “Davidoff? Alexander Allenthorp. Hold on a second. I’m passing you over to Sophia.” He handed her the cell phone.

  ‘Thanks,’ she mouthed. “Edward? I’m sorry but you’ll have to conduct the meeting alone. I had, ah, an accident and cut my forehead, badly.” She paused as she listened to him. “No. There is no need. I’ll be fine, it’s nothing but two or three stitches.” She listened for a while and looked at John. “I don’t know, just a sec. Do you think I could work tomorrow?”

  John stared at her gravely, and shook his head. “I wouldn’t recommend work for a few days.”

  She sighed, dispirited. “Edward, keep me informed. If I’m feeling better I’ll return later today or tomorrow morning.” Sophia closed her eyes, her body going lax with relief as she listened to him berating her for worrying about work instead of herself. “Aye, sir, I’ll rest. Thank you, Edward. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  “I’m impressed,” Ethan mocked, eyebrows lifted high on his forehead. “You’re a tough girl, darling.”

  Sophia flicked her eyes open and she glowered at him. “I’m a survivor. I learned it the worst way possible.”

  His expression darkened and his body went stiff. He strolled out to the garden without a word. Damn you, Calista. Why do I have such a strong reaction where children are concerned? It’s all your fault. Now I’m going to lose the only woman that has loved me because I can’t deal with her child.

  “Alice.” Sophia slightly moved her head back to look at Alistair’s sister. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t imagine Eth— I ruined your sofa and made a mess of your rug.” I should have seen Ethan’s reaction coming. I deal with this on almost a daily basis.

  “Sophia, there’s nothing to forgive. It was an accident,” Alice replied politely, not believing her own words.

  Alistair snorted at his sister’s reasoning.

  Sophia turned her head carefully to look at him. His eyes were blazing with fury and his mouth was set in a harsh line.

  The garden door banged as Ethan returned to the room. “I need to talk to you, Sophia. Now!”

  She looked at Alice and the men and asked, “May I have a minute alone with him?”

  All of them turned to glare at her as if she had gone completely insane.

  “I won’t get up from here, John. Ethan can hold the towel for me. I’m fine. We’ll be fine,” she said, glaring at Ethan, as if to reassure them and herself that she could deal with the situation.

  Alistair stared at Sophia, shaking his head imperceptibly, trying to communicate that it was crazy to be alone in the room with Ethan. Sophia pried his hand softly from
the cloth and squeezed it. “Please.”

  “Nae,” he mouthed.

  “Please,” she asked again.

  Fuck, Sophia. Alistair hesitated. He didn’t want to leave her alone. His most intimate desire at that moment was to take her with him, cradled in his arms. To protect her from everything that could ever hurt her. “I’ll wait outside if you—”

  “It will be okay. I can deal with him.”

  I don’t believe so. He shifted on the sofa, still observing her, contemplating the acute need to whisk her away with him. But he couldn’t go against her wishes even if everything inside him screamed for him to do so.

  “Sit here, Ethan.” She motioned to the place where Alistair was sitting.

  “I’m just outside the door,” Alistair growled, letting the other man see the rage in his face before getting up. Hurt her and I’ll hurt you back.

  Sophia waited for Alistair to close the door, feeling the weight of his gaze on her.

  “Sophia, I’m sorry. Please, I can’t let you go.”

  “You don’t understand, do you, Ethan? Everything for you is veni, vidi, vici, and life is not a war. You have to commit, compromise, love, respect. We can’t go on like this; we’re going to hurt each other.”

  “Sophia…” His expression held so much pain that Sophia pitied him.

  No. He’ll hurt Gabriela. He’ll hurt me. “I’m sorry, Ethan. Let’s remain friends.”

  “Impossible. I don’t want your friendship. I want more, and you know it. I love you, Sophia.” His eyes were so sad that they lost their light. “I can’t live without you.”

  Sophia’s heart clenched. Sophia, you know how these situations turn out. Don’t falter. “Come now, Ethan. You’re a witty, intelligent man. Love isn’t like this. We have known each other for so little time.”

  “It’s never been like this for me, Sophia. I’m sure of my feelings,” he whispered fervently. You’re the one for me.

  “This was an unfortunate accident but it was caused by jealousy. I can’t stand it anymore, Ethan. You’re jealous of my daughter. Of my dead husband.”

  “You don’t know the effect you have on men, do you, Sophia? That you have on me?”

  “Always trying to charm me.” Sophia smiled a little. “Let’s finish this in peace, as friends, before anything worse comes out of it.”

  He shook his head, a dejected look in his eyes. “You’re special. Unique. Won’t you reconsider? Please?”

  Never. Gabriela will always come first. “No. This is my final decision. I won’t change my mind, Ethan.”

  “I’ll miss you.” He caressed her hair, an air of longing stamped on his face. I’m sorry I hurt you. So sorry. “I’m so sorry. I’m going back to London now, so you’ll feel more comfortable. Leonard can give you a ride back or if you want I can send Wilkins to drive you back.” His hand caressed her cheek, his fingertips memorizing her perfect features. He bent over and kissed her forehead. “I—” My heart is broken. “Sophia. I’ll call you. Please, answer when I do. Promise?”

  “I promise,” she whispered.

  “Oh, Sophia.” Her name was a prayer on his lips. “I love you.”

  “Ethan. Don’t make things harder.”

  “I bought you a gift for Valentine’s day. I’ll leave it on the bed.” As she opened her mouth to refuse it, he said, “Please, accept it. As a parting gift.”

  He opened his mouth to say something else but a knock on the door stopped him.

  “Excuse me.” John entered the room with a bald, short man carrying a black bag, with Alistair on their heels. “Dr. Longman has arrived.”

  There were still so many things Ethan wanted to say, but he gulped them down, bent, and kissed Sophia’s forehead.

  Good-bye, Ethan. Sophia watched as Ethan, looking completely and utterly lost, rose, and walked away avoiding the others’ stares.

  I took Sophia for granted. And lost the best thing that happened in my life. I lost… At the door, anguish filling his heart, Ethan turned, incapable of containing himself.

  The sight of Alistair hovering over his beloved Sophia made him angry.

  I lost the battle, but not the war!

  Second Chances

  TRUST

  To my dear youngest daughter, Giovanna,

  who brightens my days with her happiness, her laughter and her unending capacity of making light and fun of everything.

  Thanks, baby. For being you!

  Chapter 1

  England, Essex, Saffron Walden

  Galewick Hall

  Saturday, February 13, 2010

  11:45 p.m.

  Sophia woke from the sound of her own screams.

  Every time she had the recurring nightmare, she woke up screaming. Since the day she awoke in that hospital, she had been having them at least once a week.

  Not being able to remember what had happened before she awoke in the hospital left her feeling anxious and anguished for the rest of the night. Heavy prescription drugs had alleviated it before, but Sophia had sworn never to touch them again.

  Will I ever remember? Oh, God. I want this to end. She sat up on the bed with her head in her hands, a painful throbbing in her temples, when a knock sounded on the door. Damn.

  She put on a wrap and opened the door a crack. Alistair, Alice, and Leonard were there.

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  “Are you okay, Sophia?” Alice asked. “Alistair heard you screaming and called me.”

  Alistair studied Sophia’s face. The stitches marred her forehead just above her eyebrow and a big black-and-blue bruise stained from above the cut to her cheek. Her face was ashen and her lips had no color. Her dark brown eyes were wide and haunted.

  “I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’m fine. It was just a nightmare.” She tried to smile but ended up grimacing.

  “A drink will do you good,” Alistair said, his voice firm and commanding, as he suppressed a deep emotion that had stirred inside him; something he didn’t want to acknowledge or recognize. However, he wanted to soothe and comfort this vibrant woman who seemed lost in long shadows, and nurse her back to the warmth of her own light. “I’ll accompany you.”

  Sophia didn’t give herself a chance to refuse. “Okay. Just give me a moment.

  She quickly changed into a long-sleeved T-shirt and a gray cashmere cardigan, jeans, and black boots. When she opened the door again, only a small lamp lit the corridor.

  Reclined against the doorjamb, his face in shadows, Alistair was waiting for her, looking as if he had stepped off the cover of a magazine, even at this time of the night. A dark-green V-neck sweater covered his perfect chest and he wore his black jeans low on his hips.

  “Shall we?”

  “Again, I’m sorry I disturbed you,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.

  “I was awake and my room is the one next to yours. That’s why I heard you.” He fell in step beside her, and they descended the stairs in silence, entering the library.

  “What will you have?”

  “Whisky. Neat.”

  He served them both and put some ice cubes in his glass. “Here you are. Scotch Whisky like we drink in Scotland. Single.”

  He sat beside her on the sofa, stretching his long legs in front of him and crossing his feet at his ankles.

  She was aware of Alistair glancing at her while she drank, but she said nothing. The silence was comfortable and the whisky burned her throat, filling her with warmth.

  “Want to talk about your nightmare?”

  She shook her head, tightening her lips for a moment to stop the words that were threatening to escape.

  “Everyone knew it wasn’t an accident. He was pissed off,” he said in a low, dark voice.

  She looked at him, puzzled, not making the connection right away.

  Ah. He suddenly understood. “You were not dreaming about what happened today.”

  She shook her head slowly.

  He put his warm hand on hers and felt that it was cold. “It’s good to
talk. Helps keep the ghosts at bay.” I wish I had someone to talk to about mine.

  “I think this ghost will haunt me forever.” She sighed, rubbing her arm where she had been shot. “I don’t really know what goes on while I dream. I have partial amnesia. I don’t remember what happened, and the nightmares…” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “I dream, but when I wake up I can’t remember anything. Almost two years and I still can’t remember. I only know what other people and documents tell me. What happened…it was…it is too painful for my mind to cope with. At least, that’s how the doctors explained it.”

  “I don’t understand…” He frowned. “What don’t you remember exactly?”

  “Part of my life after the night I was shot. I remember leaving a party with Gabriel. Then…emptiness. A void. Two months are gone from my mind. And quite a few parts of the following two.” She looked at him, their gazes locked, and she whispered, “And I don’t know if I really want to remember.”

  “I can understand that feeling.” He squeezed her hand. “Your husband was killed on the same day you were shot?”

  “No.” She wetted her lips and drank a bit more of the whisky. “No, he wasn’t. But…that’s more the official version than anything else.”

  “Come again?”

  “Everything is a great blur of pain.” She looked at the hazel liquid in the glass and swirled it. “I know he wasn’t killed on the same night because the police told me, and because I received—” She choked on the words, unable to continue and vigorously shook her head to dislodge the painful image from her mind. “The doctors said something might trigger my memory some day.”

  She bit her lip and silence ensued for some minutes, both absorbed in their own thoughts.

  “Who was the man, that day, at the Royal Courts?”

  She looked at him warily.

  “You can trust me.” His fingers caressed the back of her hand. “You know that.”

  I don’t know, but I feel I can. “My father-in-law,” she said softly, and lowered her head.

  She isn’t going to say any more, don’t press. “I could give you and Gabriela a lift back to London. I came by myself and have plenty of room in my car. I would enjoy having your company on the way back.”