Entwined Fates

by Cristiane Serruya

  “But?”

  “I…I don’t know if I ought to say this, but he still carries a heavy burden. Heather—”

  “I’d prefer to hear the story from Alistair first, if you don’t mind.” Sophia cut Alice short. “I know he still feels a great pain about Heather and Nathalie and their deaths, but I also have a past. I think we can at least, try to work it out together. I don’t know about Heather, but I’m certain Gabriel wouldn’t want me miserable. Plus, I like your brother as he is.”

  “In that case, dear, if he does accept your invitation, tell Maria to bring Gabriela over. Anytime you want. And she can spend the weekend with us. How’s that?”

  “Wow! Fantastic. Let me call Alistair.” She paused for a brief moment, uncertain. “Alice, do you think…would he prefer to take the lead?”

  “What man wouldn’t like a surprise like this? Be bold.” She laughed. “I like this hidden side of yours.”

  “Call you back in a few minutes.” Sophia tapped her nails lightly on her keyboard absently, trying to decide what to do, what to say, excited and aroused by the prospect of making love to Alistair.

  She picked up her phone and called him.

  At the first ring, he answered with his deep voice. “Sophia,” he breathed, “I’ve missed you.”

  His way of answering the phone always amused her. No words or time wasted. “I’ve missed you too. How was your trip?”

  “It could have been better. I’ve just arrived and I’m heading home. I’ve had enough for a whole year, and I’ll have to go back, probably next Tuesday.”

  His voice was so gruff she started to doubt if this was a good day to seduce him. “Listen, I thought that perhaps we could do something different today.”

  “Like what?”

  “Of course, if you’re up for it—”

  “I’m up for everything with you, Beauty,” he cut in. “Just tell me where it is and I’ll be there.”

  “I thought about a quiet evening. You like pasta. I cook a mean pasta with carciofi. We could drink some of the French wine I bought and had no one to share it with,” she babbled. “Perhaps, we could watch a film. At my place. I mean, if you like the idea.”

  “Sounds great. Better than anything I could think of.” His voice grew lighter. “Want me to pick you up or shall we meet at your house?”

  Talk about mercurial moods. Sophia exhaled the breath caught in her lungs. “If you can pick me up at six that would be fantastic. Call me just before you arrive. I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

  “Perfect. Until six then.”

  Well, well, well. So far, so good.

  Sophia called Alice first to tell her about what she had arranged with Alistair. Then she spoke to Maria, informing her that Gabriela and she were going to spend the weekend with the Allenthorpes. And finally, Lucy, her housekeeper, giving some instructions for the evening.

  From that minute on, Sophia couldn’t concentrate on anything. She decided to transfer the criminal case under her review to Paul Evergreen, a brilliant lawyer working for her foundation. She talked with him for a few minutes explaining her strategy. Unfortunately, the client had killed her boyfriend, self-defense or not, with five shots. Evergreen could only try to alleviate the verdict.

  Perhaps, if the girl had gone to the authorities asking for help as soon as the guy started beating her, the crime wouldn’t have happened. But ‘if’ is a word that life doesn’t consider. She shook her head, aggravated at the way women let themselves get involved in damaging relationships.

  Now Leibowitz’s problems. She touched the intercom, “Edward, could you please come here for a second?”

  “Yes, Sophia?” Edward entered her office and stopped dead in his tracks. He raised a finger, silencing her. “Don’t tell me. I already know.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Sophia, you are as transparent as glass.” He perched a muscular thigh on her desk. “You decided to give the big guy a chance, huh?”

  She laughed, nervously. “Yes, I think so. I planned a quiet evening at home. Pasta, soft music, and you know…”

  “Hot sex.” He grinned at her.

  “Edward!”

  “I didn’t know that grown women still blushed.” His grin widened at her blush. “Let me give you some advice.”

  At a quarter to six, Sophia stood naked in her office bathroom drying off from the shower. Trying to get herself somewhat ready for the evening, she regretted arranging for Alistair to pick her up at the office, instead of meeting at her house.

  Wearing the same clothes. Way to go, Sophia!

  She did her best. She put on a few drops of her favorite perfume, brushed her teeth, and styled her hair. She put on the heavy silk ivory blouse and long, loose caramel silk skirt. A varnished brown belt clung to her small waist and varnished brown peep-toe pumps covered her feet.

  When she exited the bathroom, she found Edward waiting for her. He leaned on her bookshelf with an open book in his hand. He closed the book and whistled. “He won’t be able to resist. Don’t worry.”

  “That’s not what’s worrying me.” She laughed nervously.

  “Hey, love. There’s no need for this. Don’t try to impress him. Just be yourself. You’ve already caught him. I’m sure he isn’t expecting any more than you’re willing to give. Got it?”

  “Thanks.” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re the best friend a woman could possibly have.”

  “I’m glad you’ve met someone worthy of you. And you know what they say about number three, don’t you?”

  She stared at him, puzzled.

  “It’s the charm, love. Number three is the lucky one.” He swatted her butt. “Go. Enjoy your night. I’ll want a full and detailed report on Monday.”

  She blushed and he laughed.

  She threw her Louis Vuitton monogram bag on her shoulder, picked up her redingote, and exited the office. While heading to the lifts, she looked at her iPhone.

  Two calls from Alistair! She sprinted through the corridor, and inside her private lift, tapping her shoe while waiting for the lift to go down, looking at her Cosmograph Daytona Rolex. Damn! I hate being late.

  As soon as the door opened on the ground floor, she ran to the sliding doors, almost slamming into them.

  Alistair stood waiting for her next to his Range Rover. A lock of his hair, still damp from a recent shower, fell across his eyes. He looked absolutely incredible with a six-button, double-breasted gray cardigan with its collar up. He’d tied a long black-and-white scarf around his neck, Ascot style. His dark-gray jeans hugged his long legs and made her mouth water.

  When he saw her running, he grinned widely and scooped her up by the waist, lifting her and lightly kissing her. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  “I’m late. Sorry.”

  “You’re worth the wait. You smell good.” He nuzzled her neck with his nose. “So, are you going to cook for me tonight?”

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, her lips near his.

  “Famished,” he said, with a sensual innuendo in his voice and pulled her into his embrace for a deeper kiss, before opening the door for her.

  Chapter 31

  Atwood House

  6:55 p.m.

  When they neared her house, Sophia touched an application on her iPhone and a remote control appeared on the screen.

  Bright lights illuminated an enormous white house with imposing Roman columns behind tall black-and-golden iron gates.

  Sophia turned to look at him, “This is the main entrance.”

  His disbelief was imprinted on his face for a second before he schooled his features into his poker-faced look. “But you don’t live here!”

  “I do,” came the simple reply.

  “This isn’t where I’ve been picking you up.” Have you been lying, Sophia?

  “The renovations weren’t finished, so I used the garden gates.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me before?” he asked, his expres
sion impenetrable.

  “I wanted to show you the house after it was done.” She tilted her head, staring at his face. “And I’m telling you now. Does it make any difference?”

  “Nae. Nae, I guess no’.” The inscrutable look vanished from his face as quickly as it came and a smile appeared.

  “Park inside, there’s room in the garage.” She touched a green button and the gates opened swiftly and smoothly. “You’re my first guest,” she beamed at him.

  They passed a cabin and Sophia waved to the men inside. As Alistair looked pointedly at her, she shrugged and answered, “Security.”

  Suddenly, his brows rose. “I knew I’d seen these gardens before! I’d been here once at a party with Heather. The gardens are truly incredible.”

  “Only the gardens?” she teased, as she touched another button to turn on the lights in the house. “Turn right and go down the ramp.” She opened the gates and he parked in a spacious garage beside a silver Mercedes SLR McLaren Roadster 722s and a black-amethyst XJ Jaguar LWB Ultimate.

  “I’ve never been inside the house before,” he answered. He grinned as she touched another button on her iPhone. “Is it voice activated as well?”

  “Actually, it is, but I prefer to use it manually. I love these little facilities. The house is intelligent. I’ve already turned on the lights and the heating.” She chuckled, “I remodeled everything.”

  He knocked on the windshield of the Jaguar as he passed it and paused, frowning. “Bulletproof?”

  “Yeah, even the glass partition and the sunroof. I’m kind of paranoid about safety,” she explained. Staring into his green eyes, she asked softly, “Wouldn’t you be, too?”

  “I guess,” he concurred. “Wonderful cars you have here.”

  “I told you I liked to drive.” She beamed.

  “I can tell,” he said smiling. “Show me your home.”

  “On the lower ground, there’s the garage, a cellar, and here…” She pushed at tall door, motioning him inside, a pool lounge with reclining chairs with white padded mattresses and two square tables for eight. Everything readied for guests, towels in woven baskets skillfully distributed around the room and a wet bar. “Gabriela’s playground.”

  His deep laughter echoed in the enormous room, which also had a complete gym. “I’m sure Gabriela runs on the treadmill, lifts weights, and uses the steamer. And, naturally, she needs a semi-Olympic pool to play in.”

  “Okay, guilty. It’s my playground too.” She turned off the lights. “Stairs or lift?”

  He raised his eyebrow. “Lift?”

  “Try carrying a sleeping Gabriela two flights of stai—” she screamed when he picked her up in his arms and started for the stairs.

  He smiled wickedly at her. “I don’t think it’s a problem, do you, Sophia?”

  “You’re crazy, do you know that?” She laughed, clinging to his neck.

  “I’m crazy about you.” They reached the top of the stairs. “Where next?”

  She wiggled her legs. “Put me down.”

  “I like you where you are,” he retorted, his eyes sparkling. “Right or left?”

  “Right, if you want to see the reception rooms first, left, for the gardens and the office.” He turned right. She seized the moment to nibble at his earlobe, running her nails lightly on his nape.

  Fuck. He felt a thrill run down his spine. “Stop that or I’ll drop you.”

  “I doubt it.” She laughed, doing it again, this time rimming his ear with her tongue.

  He put her down, backed her against the corridor wall, towering over her. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

  “Sorry.” She kissed him lightly, smiling inside. If only you knew…

  “Don’t test my self-control, Sophia. I can’t be patient forever.” His hand grabbed hers, and turning it palm up, he placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist, his gaze burrowing into hers. “Show me the rest.”

  She led him down the corridor, opening the door to the hallway. “The hall is more remarkable when seen from the front door; it makes a great first impression. I love its height. It’s almost thirty feet.” She made a face. “It was carpeted. Can you imagine how awful that looked?”

  The black-and-white marble flooring had been arranged in a repeating geometric pattern. In the middle of the hall, a huge Baccarat vase with fresh flowers commanded attention from its place on a round Chippendale table, glittering under an impressive Napoleon III Baccarat chandelier.

  “It’s stunning,” he said.

  She looked around as if seeing it through his eyes, then went to her right, opening walnut double doors. “This is the reception room.”

  He entered a breathtaking room of three thousand-square feet with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side, which would allow natural light to stream into every corner. A black grand piano stood at the far end. The walls were lined with dark-green damask silk, accented with exquisite contemporary paintings. The sofas and armchairs were done in white-and-green silk damask, with colored pillows scattered over them, bringing Sophia’s peculiar and warm touch into the room. Against one of the walls stood one of the remarkable Cucci cabinets, originally made for Louis XIV.

  “Magnificent.” In front of a Picasso, he said, “Truly. I wasn’t expecting this. Your apartment was much simpler. You did this all by yourself?”

  “No, everyone helped.” She rearranged the pillows, pursing her lips and eyeing them before being content with her arrangement. “I chose the fabrics in Venice. Victoria and I picked some of the furniture in Paris. Valentina helped me choose the colors and had some brilliant ideas for the lighting and the kitchen. Felipe and Carolina did the architectural part. My siblings and I, we’re a team. I also had an English architect help organize the work and buy the basic materials. I brought some of the paintings I had in my apartment in Rio and bought some others. Felipe made an album for me: Atwood House, before and after Sophia.”

  They left the reception room and she closed the door, crossing the hall to the other set of double doors. “Here’s the dining room.”

  “You dine here?” he asked measuring the beautiful room, with its fifteen-foot ceiling, and a table for sixteen. Three fantastic English silver salves rested on the table.

  She laughed. “No, of course not. I use the kitchen. It’s small and cozier.”

  “You have eclectic taste for paintings,” he said, pointing at two exceptional Turner paintings above Portuguese mahogany chests, which flanked each end of the room.

  “I have eclectic taste. Period,” she said, as she walked toward the kitchen, closing all the doors behind her. “We decided to put this door here to give Gabriela some privacy when I entertain.” She touched another button on her iPhone. “What kind of music do you feel like?”

  “Anything. I like anything you have on your mobile.”

  “Hmm…” She pressed another button and soft romantic music started to play through the house. “Here is where we eat.” She pointed to a spacious table for six, already set for two, at the fully equipped kitchen, all in stainless steel. “I tore the whole kitchen down to fully modernize it. Juliette wasn’t interested in this part of the house.”

  “This is small?” He looked at the table and teased, “I think you have an ego problem.”

  She made a face at him. “Want something to drink before dinner or do you want to go straight to wine?” She opened one of the refrigerators and he saw that it was perfectly organized.

  “I’ll have some water, too. Still, please.”

  She threw him a bottle of water then picked up a glass from the cupboard for him, and grabbing a small bottle of Evian for herself, drank directly from her bottle.

  He did the same, handing her back the glass. “Never thought I’d see you drinking from a bottle.”

  “There’s always a first time for everything.” She toed off her peep-toe shoes, bent down and picked them up, standing barefoot and wiggling her toes on the Carrara and Emperor Dark marble floor. “I installed floor heating
in the whole house. I love to walk barefoot.”

  Dark-red toe nails! Oh, fuck!

  “And now, the TV room and my office.” Again, she grabbed his hand, walking out of the kitchen, and into two generous-sized rooms, where the walls displayed contemporary art with a stunning photo-based Gerhard Richter that commanded the eye. “If I want to work and Gabriela has friends, I can close the sliding doors. If it’s only the two of us, I keep the doors opened.”

  In the TV room, there were comfortable sofas begging for sitters and big square cushions on the floor.

  “Don’t you like English furniture?” he asked, amused, as he noticed the twin Louis XVI tables facing each other on the office side of the room.

  “Oh, I do. But it’s very difficult to find originals. The only one I could find was the Chippendale in the hall, and anyway,” she shrugged. “I’ve always loved French furniture. Since my first visit to France, I fell in love with the castles.”

  “You see, ego problem.” He chuckled.

  “No. Girly dreams. I was five years old when I visited Versailles. My parents had a hard time convincing me not to lie down on one of those beds, or sit in one of those armchairs and I made my father waltz me through the Hall of Mirrors.” She pirouetted as if dancing. “Long, beautiful dresses, glittering jewels and handsome men.”

  He smiled at her romantic air. “Those aren’t difficult to obtain.”

  “No, they’re not. But money can’t buy everything.” She sighed and smiled at him. “There is also a small storage room and a laundry room on this floor. At the back of the house, is the famous garden you’ve already seen. I can show it to you another day.”. “Now, the first floor.”

  They turned back to climb the stairs, its runner carpet held with bronze stair rods.

  “It’s for family only. A smaller TV room with a mini fridge full of snacks because I don’t like going downstairs at night if I’m hungry.” She pointed to a door in the far corner of the room. “A small toilet. No work or homework is allowed up here. No friends either.”

  “So, I am not allowed here?” he teased, ogling her buttocks when she bent down to pick up a book and carried it with her.