Entwined Fates

by Cristiane Serruya

  She smiled over her shoulder turning right, and opening a door. “Gabriela’s room. She chose everything with Felipe and Valentina.” She put away the book on the white bookshelf along a wall.

  The room was lovingly done in various shades of pink, orange, and white. Over the bed and on the ceiling, a multicolored garden with fairies was painted directly on the wall.

  “Gabriel,” he said in a questioning tone, picking up one of the frames on Gabriela’s bookshelf. The picture showed a grinning, blond, blue-eyed man, cradling a tiny Gabriela in the crook of his arm, and hugging Sophia’s shoulders. “He was much older than you.” Got a thing for older men, Sophia? Gabriel, Ethan, me.

  “Well, it depends on your point of view.” She grinned at him, “Do you think you are much older than me? If he were alive, he’d be four years your senior.”

  Nice move, Counselor. “How did you meet a man fourteen years older than you when you were so young?”

  “Thirteen, not fourteen,” she corrected, and smiled remembering. “It was at the beginning of my second year at Law School. I was sitting on a bench—studying for a test, head bent over a book—when I saw a pair of black shoes stop in front of me. When I looked up, I was staring into the most beautiful blue eyes I had seen in my whole life. He sat at my side and started a weird conversation. It was…hilarious. This important man, all dressed up in an expensive suit, who had come to give a lecture, was ignoring everyone who came to talk to him, paying attention only to me. Later, he confessed it was love at first sight. Would you believe he discovered my timetable and showed up at the campus every evening? He chased me for three months before I gave in to his charms and accepted his invitation to dinner. Six months after that, we were married.”

  “A stalker,” he affirmed.

  “What?”

  He looked from the photo to her. “He was a stalker.”

  “Or you could say he was persistent. Like you,” she finished softly.

  So naïve, Sophia. He thinned his lips and put the frame back on the shelf. “Gabriela looks exactly like him, but for the mouth and the chin.”

  She nodded and murmured, “Yes, she does. Especially the eyes and the satin pale-blonde hair.”

  He envied and hated Gabriel at that moment.

  It was unbearable thinking of another man having her unbound love. Even worse was the idea of someone else bringing her as much joy as he saw in the photograph. He wanted to be the one, the only one to touch her body and her heart in that manner.

  He pulled her close, bent his head, and kissed her. His hands wandered on her back, one cupping her nape and the other her butt, pressing her more firmly to his hips. His tongue invaded her mouth, dueling with hers. He bit her lush bottom lip and heard a carnal moan leave his mouth.

  He broke the kiss to look at her.

  Her eyes were closed, her lips reddened and swollen by his kiss, parted, waiting for more.

  Christ, she’s a temptress. He couldn’t resist and slanted his head to plunder her mouth. One of his hands wandered to her breast, palming and gently kneading it, a thumb teasing the nipple. When she flexed her hips, he pulled her onto his straining erection, lost in the sensations.

  This time, she broke the kiss, her breathing uneven. “This is Gabriela’s bedroom.”

  The hand on her breast went back to her neck, his thumb stroking her throat, feeling a vein pulsating there. They stood for a moment catching their breaths. “Show me the rest of this floor.”

  “Two guest bedrooms, a bit smaller than Gabriela’s. Like this.” She opened a door to a generously sized room. A king-sized bed occupied the center, and in one corner, sat a desk with a chair. Pointing to another closed door, she said, “And this one is still empty, but is the same size as Gabriela’s.”

  “You haven’t finished it?”

  She shook her head, smiling. “I’m waiting for someone to arrive.”

  “Who?”

  “My next child.” Her grin became wider.

  Fuck. “And you think your next husband would come to live here with you?” he asked seriously.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s rather strange to live at the expense of one’s wife, don’t you think?”

  “Not at all. Don’t tell me you have such old-fashioned ideas.” She stopped in the middle of the TV room to stare at his face. “Look at it from my point of view. I’m probably wealthier than any husband I chose. I don’t have to pay for everything, but I can have and share the things I can afford. It’s not meant to make a man less proud of himself. Or to make me have the upper hand. What’s money for if I can’t enjoy it with the person I love? My bank account won’t smile at me.”

  “Hmm. When you put it that way.” But you do want someone you can order around, don’t you, Sophia? You just don’t want to confess that to yourself.

  “Upstairs.” She pointed upwards. “With a separate entrance, there are complete apartments for Maria, Gabriela’s nanny; Lucy, the housekeeper; Aisha, the cook; Steven, my driver; Zareb and Devon, our bodyguards.”

  “Christ.” He laughed. “You have the whole world inside your house.”

  “Yeah, and all religions too.” She crossed the TV room and entered the master suite. “My room.”

  A huge four-poster canopied bed dominated the main wall and the center of the room standing on a giant Persian rug that added to the sense of grandeur. On each side of the bed were French bedside tables. Renoir, Manet, and Degas graced the walls.

  “Come here.” She motioned with her hand toward one of the three floor-to-ceiling glass doors which opened onto a large balcony where there were a table for four, two lounge chairs, and a spacious Jacuzzi. She looked at him with a wicked smile. “It’s heated, so I can bathe outdoors in the winter. It’s delicious.”

  “Naked?” he asked in his quiet voice, deep and hoarse.

  Sophia paused and smiled naughtily. “Curious, aren’t we, Alistair Connor?” She turned back to the room and pointed to a door. “There’s an empty dressing room and bathroom on this side. They’re exactly like mine.” She went through another door. “Here’s my bathroom. Felipe did wonders in here.”

  Blue Acqua Marine marble echoed on the floors and walls defining the bathing area, contrasting with the Pink Gray Cloud marble vanity tops. A huge shower added a further touch of indulgence to the waterfall tap in the oversized, inset bath.

  “I can’t believe you have a high-definition plasma TV in your bathroom.” He looked as if he wanted to laugh. “That’s weird.”

  “It wasn’t my idea.” Sophia turned her hands up. “But Felipe’s and Vic’s. At first, I thought it ridiculous, but it helps a lot when I have a busy day. I can catch up on the news while showering.”

  At this, he chuckled. “You don’t relax, even in the shower?”

  “Try keeping up with my timetable at Leibowitz, Cambridge, and with Gabriela, and still stay informed. And I don’t have a TV in my room. When I go to bed, I sleep with another one of my gadgets.”

  “You sleep with a gadget?” He smiled, a glint in his eyes. “Tell me more about this device, Sophia.”

  She laughed, playfully slapping his arm. “My Kindle.”

  “Oh, aye. Your books.” He concealed his disappointment.

  “Have you heard of Isaac Barrow?” When he shook his head she carried on, “He was an English mathematician and theologian, who died in 1677. He said, ‘He who loveth a book will never want a faithful friend, a wholesome counselor, a cheerful companion, or an effectual comforter.’ It’s so true. I am alone with a book, but never lonely.”

  “Well, well, well.” He bowed low and turned, waving his hand, still a big smile on his lips. “First, Thomas à Kempis. Now, Isaac Barrow. My medieval lady, it’s time for me to say goodbye and leave you to your books.”

  “Silly man.” She laughed. “Hey. You’re going the wrong way, that’s my—” She ran after him and heard his laughter.

  “Do you have OCD?” he asked her with a broad grin.

  �
��What?” She shed her jacket and hung it in its place.

  He watched as she did it and laughed out loud again. “OCD. Obsessive compulsive disorder?”

  “No, of course not.” She scowled at his laughing face. “Why do you ask?”

  “Looks like you do. You rearranged the cushions to perfection in the reception room, shut every door, and turned off every light. You have a perfectly ordered refrigerator and returned the glass immediately to its place. You put Gabriela’s book away, and hung your coat in its place. I bet you’re going to put your shoes…” He pointed to the shoes she was carrying, “…back in their rightful place too. And look at this dressing room! It looks like a shop.” He turned, laughing more, shaking his head. “And I thought I was organized. I can’t show you my dressing room.” He chuckled again, this time darker, imagining her in his dressing room. Oh, Sophia. If I show you my special closet, what will your reaction be?

  “Isn’t it easier to find things when they’re organized?” she asked. “I used to have eight employees working at my apartment back in Brazil. Now, I only have four—”

  “Four?” He frowned. “You named at least seven people who live here.”

  “Six, but the bodyguards don’t help with the house. Even with the maintenance company which comes twice a week to take care of the garden, clean the pool, and do all the hard stuff it’s hard to maintain it. Coats go with coats, not with shirts. White shirts are followed by yellow and then orange and so forth. The same goes for the rest of the house. It’s not OCD. It’s just that it’s simpler to put things in their place.” Saying this, she put her shoes in their place and finished her explanation, “I could find anything even in the dark if I needed to.”

  “In the dark? You dress in the dark? Some kind of perversion? Or are you absolutely nuts?” He tried but could not contain a guffaw, imagining a scene. “Oh, Davidoff, I cannot meet the clients today,” he squealed in a female voice, and flicked an effeminate wave down his body, “you see, I mismatched the colors of my shoes—” He doubled over in a fit of laughter.

  “Oh, you’re going to pay for that!”

  He straightened, holding his hand up, trying to say “Peace,” while laughing.

  As she stalked up to him, he backed out into the bedroom, still chuckling. “Sophia, you are too good to be true.”

  “He who laughs last, laughs best.” With one hand, she caught him by the cardigan and yanked his body to hers, while with the other she enlaced her fingers in his hair pulling his head down, and kissed him.

  He gasped at the attack and she seized the opportunity to explore his mouth with her tongue. One of his arms pressed her onto his body while his knee pried her legs open. The other hand rose to her breast, the silk no barrier to his touch. “I want you.”

  His face showed his disbelief as she started to undo his scarf.

  His hand stopped hers.

  She looked up.

  “Ye know what ye are about tae do, right?”

  His accent was so pronounced and his voice so husky that she had some trouble understanding him. “I know,” Sophia breathed the words out, gazing at his forest-green eyes flaming with desire. “I want you, too.”

  Chapter 32

  Exuding an air full of passion, Sophia pushed Alistair’s scarf to the side and kissed his chest above the V-neck of his black T-shirt. She undid the buttons of his cardigan, one by one, and yanked his shirt up, licking the line of his pectoral until she found a nipple and sucked it hard.

  Pleasure and astonishment flooded his veins as she kissed and licked his chest and his abs with abandonment.

  He was so shocked at his reaction that he didn’t notice when the scarf fell to the floor. When her hand went to his zipper, he stopped her.

  How long since I’ve let a soft, gentle, normal woman take control? He remembered Tavish’s words. Don’t rush things with her. Sophia’s hand was shaking. He didn’t know if she felt nervous or aroused. Quietly, he said, “There’s no hurry. Trust me on this.”

  “Make love to me, Alistair. Please.”

  A wicked urge assailed him as he shoved off his cardigan and his long-sleeved T-shirt. He cupped her face in his hands and whispered on her lips, “I like to hear you begging.”

  He bent his head ever so slowly and brushed his lips against hers, his tongue licking the contours of her mouth, leisurely.

  His gentle kiss drove Sophia insane with longing. She pressed herself onto his chest and stroked his hair as she pulled him down to suck and bite his bottom lip.

  His lips became more demanding, and his tongue dipped in her mouth, entwining with hers. He ran a hand down to the buttons of her blouse, then paused before undoing them.

  “Yes, please,” she breathed out hoarsely, gliding her hands from his nape to his chest with a feathery touch. She parted her lips to search for air as he undid only two buttons and opened her shirt over the shoulders, pinning her arms to her torso.

  Her ivory lace bra did nothing to hide her breasts and pink nipples. His mouth watered. He dropped his head to her shoulder and kissed it before he sucked a nipple through the lacy bra, enjoying the dual feeling of the lace and the soft skin beneath it.

  Sophia hissed through clenched teeth, her hands clutching his ribcage.

  He murmured something with satisfaction, but she didn’t understand the words. And she didn’t care.

  Alistair’s fingers wandered over her body as one of his legs pressed between hers.

  A tinge of uncertainty flashed through her mind as her belt fell to the rug with a soft thump. I shouldn’t have started this. But as his lips moved to her other breast, his tongue leaving a wet trail, another thought overrode the first. Why not?

  “Sophia, you are so beautiful,” he whispered against her breast as he bit and tugged at it.

  Ahhh! Sophia gasped, digging her nails into his waist, as his movements and caresses transfixed her.

  Then her skirt whispered down her body and his large hands encompassed her hips, his fingers kneading her ass gently, his thumbs pressing against her hipbones.

  Alistair suddenly needed to look at her. He lifted his head from her breast, slowly undoing the remaining buttons, letting the blouse float to the floor, and he stepped back without releasing her.

  They stood mere feet apart. She, in her underwear, he in his jeans, wordlessly appraising each other.

  He had the perfect build for his great height. Broad shoulders and chiseled chest tapered into a narrow waist. Only a thin trail of black hair descended from his navel to below the waistband of his jeans, which encased his long and muscled legs.

  And something more. She eyed the bulge under his fly. Oh, my. Something very big.

  The sight of her dazzled him.

  Proudly, she held her head high and her shoulders back. Her black hair, falling almost to her waist, covered one pert, plump breast.

  “You are,” he breathed out in awe, “magnificent.”

  Her slim waist widened in slightly rounded hips. Her legs were long and firm. Her lacy panties covered only a small and thin patch of dark hair.

  Sophia followed his rapt gaze and suddenly felt shy. No one has ever looked at me like this. So much ardor, so much passion. She felt her whole body catch fire, consuming all the air in her lungs.

  He closed the gap between them, running his hands from her shoulders down her arms and up again, going to her breasts, cupping them through the ivory lace bra.

  He picked her up in his arms and laid her down in the middle of the bedspread. He shook his head, astonished at the intensity of his feelings as he stretched on his side next to her. “I have no words.”

  “Please,” she moaned. Sophia was so astonished that she couldn’t make any sense of his words. Oh, please, stop talking and…take me.

  She almost giggled. Almost.

  “Exactly how I pictured it. Your glorious body against the sheets, your long hair spread on the pillows. Framing your face and shoulders,” he murmured. “It’s enough to drive a man insane.”r />
  His fingers touched her stomach, rounding her navel and her breath hitched. They glided up to her breast and to her shoulder, slowly lowering her bra strap, torturing her. His head bent down and he kissed the edge of her shoulder, his mouth traveling over her collarbone to the hollow of her throat, placing kisses along the way and down to the swell of her breast, following the path of his warm hand.

  He raised his head and looked into her eyes, his forest-green meeting her yellow-diamond.

  He leaned in, regarding her closely, lapped at her nipple and sucked it into his mouth.

  With a gasp, Sophia arched on the bed, and her hands tangled in his hair. She felt his lips twisting into a smile against her skin.

  Alistair took his time, swirling the nipple with his tongue, nipping it with his teeth; while his now free hand went to the other shoulder and lowered the other strap with no rush. “So soft,” he whispered, as his long fingers cupped the other breast and massaged it. His thumb and index finger twisted the nipple between them. As Sophia moaned again, he chuckled and asked, “You like this, don’t you?”

  “Yes, don’t stop!” She sat up and undid the bra, throwing it far away.

  He laughed and pushed her back with a gentle touch on her shoulder. He bent down and kissed her mouth. His fingers went down again, fluttering on her shoulder, passing by her scar and stopping to caress it. He returned to the shoulder and moved to the other breast. His mouth trailed behind his hand, kissing her ear, biting her lobe, and caressing her arm.

  Alistair kissed the scar reverently, and cupping a breast, sucked it into his mouth again.

  Oh. He’s going to kill me. Sophia moaned loudly, “Alistair, please.” She moved her hands from his hair to his shoulders, exploring his back. His strong shoulder and back muscles were hard, compared to the smooth texture of his skin, which made her want to lick him all over. Her hands moved down his back and found his trousers. “Jeans,” she panted. “Off.”

  He jumped off the bed, took out his wallet from the back pocket and withdrew a condom, putting it on the bedside table. As he undid the button, he stared fixedly at her; his forest-green eyes flashed hungrily. He unzipped his jeans, pushing them down, but keeping his underwear on. His black boxers tented from his straining erection.