Shades of Trust

  Rose sobbed brokenly. That took Alberto Leibowitz out of his speechless state and he charged toward Sophia, “You filthy bitch.”

  As his hand moved to slap Sophia’s face, Alistair’s rose, catching and crushing the old man’s wrist. Despite Alberto speaking in Portuguese, Alistair was able to understand the feelings being spat out.

  “Enough!” he bit out, and wrung Alberto’s wrist, holding back on his desire to break it. “Don’t you dare speak to my future wife like that.” He released Alberto’s hand with a shove and bent down to pick up Sophia’s bags from the floor. “I’ve had enough of you for a lifetime.”

  Alberto staggered back. “You’re going to pay for this, Sophia. Mark my words. I won’t rest until I destroy you and have Gabriela back where she belongs.”

  “A lost war before it even started, Alberto,” Sophia answered unfazed.

  “Let’s go, Sophia,” Alistair said.

  At the same time, Rose pleaded, in a hurtful sob, “Sophia, please, I need to see Gabriela. She is the only reminder I have of my son.”

  “You should have thought of that when you let Gabriel die.” Sophia looked at Rose with contempt and turned to go. “Good-bye, Rose. I hope one day you free yourself of your self-imposed enslavement. You are too young to wander around like the living-dead.”

  Alistair enfolded Sophia in his arms and walked away with her.

  Alberto shouted, “I will make you pay for this, Sophia. I’ll see to it.”

  Alistair didn’t stop, but looked back once. Rose was crying, her head hung and Alberto was glowering at Sophia with so much hate in his eyes that a bad feeling entered Alistair. Christ!

  Some feet away, he paused and looked down at Sophia’s white face, “You okay?”

  “No.” She breathed deep. “I’m sorry I made a scene. I wasn’t prepared…I never thought I’d meet them again. They don’t live here. In Rio, I mean.” She put a hand on her head. “Would you mind heading back to the hotel? I’m not feeling well.”

  “Of course no’.” There was a murderous look on his face. “I lost my appetite.”

  “I’m so sorry, Alistair. On your first day in Rio. It wasn’t supposed to—”

  “No more apologies. I should have taken that son of a bitch out.” He felt her melting against his chest, her arm snaking around his waist.

  Sophia raised her head to look at his eyes, a ghost of a smile on her face. “I might have liked that, my Highland warrior.”

  “Want me to go back?” he smiled down at her.

  “Don’t tempt me, I might say yes.” A strange light appeared on her face. “But, no thanks. He deserves worse.”

  Her eyes were burning with an emotion he could not identify at first.

  Christ, no! It was there again. The mad look he saw in her eyes when she told him why she asked for the kidnappers’ fingers: the avenging angel.

  Alistair suddenly became worried. “Sophia, don’t go there. Please, promise me you won’t do anything extreme.”

  “Ask for his finger? No. I’m past that. Besides, it would be too kind.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “He deserves to suffer each and every day of the rest of his life and then rot in hell.”

  “You have to let go, Sophia. Revenge won’t bring Gabriel back.” Fuck. Gabriel holds such an important part of her heart.

  Her hand clenched on his back but she didn’t utter a word.

  Alistair ran his fingers softly over her creased forehead and narrowed eyes. “Relax. Let’s go back to the hotel so you can rest. We have your grandmother’s dinner tonight.”

  Chapter 12

  The Goncalves & Espirito Santo Families’ Penthouse

  8:43 p.m.

  “Ready to enter the lions’ den?” Sophia asked Alistair, smiling.

  “Are they going to eat me alive?”

  “They might…” she joked. And rang the bell of her grandmother’s penthouse.

  “Sophia!” A short, thin, old woman wearing an elegant black dress flung the double doors wide. She opened her arms, hugged Sophia and launched into a string of questions in Portuguese.

  Sophia laughed and answered her, hugging her back.

  “Alistair, may I have the honor to introduce you to my grandmother, Angelica Gonçalves,” she said in English, and lowered her voice to a mocking whisper, “be careful around her, she puts spells in her food.” Angelica and Sophia laughed. And again she lowered her voice to a whisper. “And you be careful too, he’s a powerful Highland warrior.”

  He so loved the idea of being her Highlander. Alistair chuckled inward as he flashed her grandmother his most charming smile.

  “Warrior or not, if you don’t treat my little Sophia well, you are going to have an appointment with my rolling pin,” Angelica eyed him, unabashedly taking full measure of him, struggling for a stern look that melted in a huge smile.

  “Grandma makes the most delicious pastries you’ve ever tasted.” Sophia turned back to her grandmother and could see that she was captivated by Alistair. “Tell me you’ve made something delicious for tonight’s dessert.”

  “It is an honor to meet you, Mrs. Gonçalves. Sophia talks about you a lot.”

  “Oh, I hope she has told you only good things. Please, call me Angelica. Mrs. Gonçalves is too formal.” Sophia’s grandmother smiled at him, framed his face in her hands and kissed his cheeks, then hugged him. “Welcome.”

  Alistair was startled and Angelica’s blue eyes twinkled.

  Sophia laughed. “We are very informal, Alistair. Get used to being kissed, hugged, and slapped on the back by people you have just met. Carolina is the only reserved one of the family. She is our English side.”

  “I am not. You all are savages.” A tall, young woman wearing glasses and a sleeveless light-blue dress, with her dark brown hair floating around her, appeared in the hallway they had just entered. She gracefully stood on her tiptoes and again Alistair received two kisses, but this time more contained. “Carolina, or just Carol.”

  Gabriela came running, her blonde hair dancing around her and threw herself in Alistair’s arms, hugging and kissing him as he picked her up. “Alistair!”

  “Hello, Fairy.” He returned the kisses and buried his nose on her neck, inhaling deep. Alistair loved Gabriela’s delicate baby smell.

  “I missed you today. I went to the pool. Look how tanned I am.” She extended her arms, showing her supposedly tanned skin.

  “I can see you enjoyed your day, Gabriela. You don’t even remember that you have a mother anymore.” Sophia said.

  The little girl turned serious. “I’m sorry, Mamãe. Good evening,” she said, composed. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine, love,” Sophia said with a smile, standing on her tiptoes to kiss her daughter. “So you had fun with your aunt?”

  “Yes, she had. Almost drove Grandma crazy. Too much energy,” said Carol, seriously, as she pushed open the door to a huge, square room, all done in soft pastel colors with modern paintings hanging on the wall.

  “Oh! She didn’t! She was just being a child. You are too protective.” Angelica huffed from behind. “Would you believe, Sophia, that Carol asked me to go rest, in the middle of the afternoon, with the false pretense that the beach had tired me? I’m sure that she wanted to have Gabriela for herself.”

  “Oh, no, my little niece is in trouble again.” A mellifluous voice came from behind them.

  Sophia spun around and threw herself in Felipe’s arms.

  He was informally dressed, wearing a light pink shirt, with its long sleeves rolled up and navy slacks. Laughing, he kissed and hugged her, and extended his hand to Alistair. “Nice to see you again, Alistair. How are you?”

  “Please, let’s sit. We are waiting for Carolina’s…” Angelica looked at Carolina.

  “Fiancé,” Felipe snorted.

  “You are engaged, Carol? Congratulations.” Sophia hugged her sister. “I didn’t know.”

  “Seems they decided it last night,” Felipe explained, clearly annoyed. “He’s
finished filming the scenes here and he wants Carolina to move with him to Hollywood.”

  “You’re moving?” Sophia was astonished. “You?”

  “Why not?” she asked defensively. “You, Valentina, and Victoria did. Why not me?”

  “Yes, why not?” Felipe derided.

  Angelica tactfully changed the subject, as she rose and took Alistair by the arm, commanding everyone to the veranda, asking Alistair about his family.

  When Drake entered the living room, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses, Carolina really smiled for the first time that evening. She pushed from the rail of the balcony, where she had been eagerly watching the door and walked swiftly to receive him.

  He dipped her over one arm and kissed her as if they were alone in the room. He gave her the flowers and she threw her arms around his neck. He hugged and kissed her again.

  “See what I mean?” Felipe was scowling.

  “Oh, Felipe,” Sophia, who was eyeing the scene raptly, sighed with longing. “We had our time too, remember?”

  Had?! What does she mean by that? “Had?” Alistair murmured in her ear.

  She explained, startled. “It’s Carol’s first real boyfriend,” she said, looking up at his face. “It’s…first love. I mean…it’s not the same.”

  Oh. It’s not? How is it for you then? “Nae?” A hurt look appeared on his face and he stepped further back into the shadows.

  Rainy clouds obscured the waning crescent moon and helped shadow even more the veranda.

  Oh, Alistair Connor. “It’s not—” Sophia’s apology and explanation were interrupted by Drake’s presence on the balcony.

  Thomas Drake Westwood was not what one would expect from a Hollywood movie director. He looked like an elegant Al Capone. He even had the cigars, which could be seen in a special leather pouch in his tweed jacket pocket. He was tall and lean but not handsome or muscular. His brown hair was receding and thinning. Nonetheless, all in all, Drake had flair and a commanding presence. His clothes were expensive but understated. However, what truly called one’s attention were his eagle-sharp brown eyes. Eyes that scanned a person and discovered their most private wishes. Eyes that offered fulfillment of these secrets.

  He flashed a smile at Angelica, who stretched out her hand to him. He kissed it with a flourish.

  “This is my great-granddaughter, Gabriela,” Angelica introduced the girl to him.

  He picked Gabriela up in his arms with a flourish and exclaimed, “A fairy!”

  Gabriela’s mouth formed a big O, before she tilted her head to the side and asked intrigued, “How do you know?”

  “I am a magician. After dinner, I’m going to make you disappear!” He kissed the wide-eyed little girl and put her back on the floor, advancing purposely toward Felipe.

  “Felipe, my friend, how are you?” Drake slapped him on the back.

  Felipe grimaced at Sophia over the man’s shoulder, causing her to giggle.

  At the lilting sound, Drake turned slowly to look at her, taking in her presence for the first time. His dark eyes sparkled when he saw her standing under the light, her one-shoulder red top hugging her figure and the black leather miniskirt revealing her long, beautiful legs. A wolfish smile appeared on his features and he appraised her from head to toe.

  “Where have you been hiding?” He grinned at Sophia.

  “This is my sister, Sophia. Sophia, this is Carol’s fiancé, Thomas Drake Westwood,” Felipe introduced.

  “Drake to my friends.”

  He leaned in to kiss her, but Alistair’s arm snatched her by the waist, pulling her back to his body.

  Drake straightened up and craned his neck to look up at Alistair’s face.

  How dare he look at Sophia like that? “This is the future Marchioness of Ells, my fiancée.” Let’s set boundaries here. Alistair towered over the much shorter man. “I’m Alistair Connor MacCraig, the Marquis of Ells and CEO of The City of London Bank, among other things.” He stretched out his hand, keeping Sophia out of Drake’s reach.

  Felipe’s forehead furrowed and he looked at Sophia, who discreetly lifted a shoulder, smiling at Alistair’s immediate reaction.

  Lord Caveman is staking his claim. Let him.

  Drake didn’t even blink and put his hand in Alistair’s, letting it linger there. “A pleasure, milord. Congratulations on your engagement.” His stare moved from Alistair to Sophia as he inspected them both with the same boldness. In a hoarse, intimate voice, he said, “You make a breathtaking couple.”

  Alistair’s countenance darkened. He squeezed hard Drake’s hand, before letting it go, and answered dryly, “Indeed.”

  Carolina distracted him from his unpleasant thoughts as she exited the kitchen, carrying a huge crystal vase with roses and announcing dinner was served.

  “So, Sophia, have you and Alistair set a date yet?” Angelica asked from the head of the table, after making a toast to them and to Carolina and Drake.

  “Not yet, Grand—”

  “August the seventh, at Airgead Caisteal,” Gabriela interrupted.

  Sophia lost her breath. “What?”

  Chapter 13

  “It was supposed to be a surprise, Fairy, remember?” Alistair groaned inwardly as Sophia’s head popped up.

  Gabriela’s blue eyes widened. “Oops. Sorry.”

  He shook his head and crossed his arms, but a huge grin belied his stern stance.

  “Pardon?” Sophia was staring at him, surprised. How dare he?

  “August the seventh, at Airgead Caisteal,” he repeated Gabriela’s words, flashing her a bright smile, his eyes shining with love.

  “I heard what she said. First of all, August the seventh is too soon. Second, Airgead is too far away and I’ve never even been there. Third…third…”

  Alistair didn’t let her come up with another excuse. “This can easily be remedied. The staff will help you put the wedding together in less than a month. They do this all the time. It’s the best time of the year to be on the West coast of Scotland. And Airgead is amazing.”

  “Staff?” Angelica asked.

  “Airgead Caisteal is an exclusive five-star resort and spa,” Alistair explained.

  “And what is the average temperature during the best time of the year in the Highlands?” Drake jeered at Sophia.

  Alistair quirked an eyebrow at the mocking grin. “Fairly good. Much nicer than the hot summers in California.”

  “I prefer something smaller. Just family. Maybe a small lunch at our house, in December,” Sophia almost begged.

  “It’s going to be perfect.” He shook his head. “Imagine…we’ll have the castle to ourselves. At this time of the year it’s closed to the public for two weeks, from July the twenty-sixth to August ninth. Lovely warm weather and the grounds all to us and our guests. A reception for…four hundred, give or take.” He looked at Sophia’s grandmother, smiling. “I’m proud to be marrying your granddaughter. I’ll be eager to show her off on my arm all in white.”

  “Have you gone insane?” Sophia gasped, astonished. “White? I’m a widow.” She shook her head. “Four hundred people? No way, Alistair Connor.”

  “Alistair said I could be the flower girl,” Gabriela beamed, almost jumping on her chair. “Can I choose my dress? Can I, Mama?”

  Sophia looked at her daughter’s happy face, but found no voice to answer her.

  Alistair excitedly launched into an explanation of his ideas. “We can receive all the international guests with a dinner at Atwood House and Alice can plan a weekend at Galewick Hall. For the wedding, we can have a round of parties starting on Thursday, with a dinner at Tavish Uilleam’s property, Dryad Manor, a lunch on Friday with a riding tournament at Craigdale Castle, my Father’s home. They are all close, within forty-five minutes of each other. Just a couple of minutes in the chopper. And they will also be shut during that period.”

  He released the silverware he was holding, turned to Sophia and grabbed her hand. His forest-green eyes sparkled with joy.
“We have sixty-five rooms at my father’s place, fifty-seven at Airgead, forty-three at Tavish Uilleam’s. That’s…a hundred-and-sixty-five spacious rooms, most of them double suites. Every guest could be housed within our properties, except for the ones who have homes nearby. We could have the ceremony in the morning. Let’s say…eleven-thirty. Then have lunch and the party in the afternoon and evening. I’ve already imagined the photos we’ll take. On the beach, near the loch with the mountains capped with snow at the back. On the next day, Sunday, we say our farewells at a brunch at Airgead and leave for our honeymoon. One month. Thailand, Cambodia, and the Maldives. What do you think?”

  Sophia was gaping at him. “There is no time to prepare all this. The guest list, all the stationary, invitations, menus, seating charts. We’d have to send the save-the-date cards next week. Then the invitations, keep track of the RSVPs, plan the catering, flowers, music, photographers, so many things.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “God. Choose the theme, the colors, the best maids, arrange the fittings. The cake, the favors. And a bunch of other stuff I can’t even remember. Organizing all this. It’s impossible.”

  “It isn’t, dear.” Angelica smiled at Sophia and then at Alistair and squeezed Sophia’s hand. “We’ve already done something similar.”

  “But Grandma, it was all done here and much more informally. There were no dukes or royals with rigid protocols I’m not familiar with. And there are too many parties, too many people.” She was trying to take in all he had said. Things are moving too quickly.

  “Dukes?” Drake was following the conversation with bored curiosity, more interested in observing Sophia, who was sitting in front of him.

  “Alistair is the heir to a dukedom,” Carolina explained to him, “and his brother-in-law is a duke.”

  “Fascinating.” He gave his fiancée a little smile.

  “There is no difference, Sophia. Besides, you are more experienced now. How many parties have you held with almost no notice? And we can all help,” Carolina said.