Trust: Betrayed

by Cristiane Serruya

  She was pale and staring straight ahead at a couple that was coming in their direction.

  “What is it?” he asked concerned.

  Sophia was rooted to the ground and looked like she would faint. The bags with her new bikinis fell to the floor. Her hand flew to her mouth.

  “Sophia?” He stepped in front of her. “Sophia?” He grabbed her right arm and shook it. “Who are they?”

  “Get me out of here, please,” she whispered.

  “Sophia!” A polite and cultured female voice, called, “É você, Sophia querida?”

  Yes, it’s me. Sophia moaned and closed her eyes. Just the sight of the couple made her senses raw. Too late.

  A blonde middle-aged woman, tastefully dressed, with startling beautiful blue eyes had stopped by their side.

  Alistair looked over his shoulder. The man had halted a few feet away. He let go of Sophia’s arm, moved aside and brought her closer to him with an arm around her waist. She had turned even paler.

  “Rose.” Sophia acknowledged the woman with a taut nod. “How are you?”

  Alistair felt her shudder when she spoke the woman’s name.

  Raising her chin and setting her shoulders back, Sophia made an elegant gesture in Alistair’s way. “May I present you the Marquis of Ells, Lord Alistair Connor Davenport MacCraig, my fiancé.”

  Marquis? Lord? What the fuck? Who is this woman?

  Looking at Alistair, she motioned to Rose with a dismissive flick of her wrist, “Lord Ells, this is Rose Leibowitz.”

  Oh, fuck!

  “Fiancé? Lo-lord?” The woman stuttered in a squeak, but quickly recovered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord,” she replied in perfect English and didn’t extended her hand, as he did not.

  Without a smile, he nodded briefly. “How do you do, Mrs. Leibowitz?” It’s a displeasure to meet you.

  “Sophia, querida-”

  Dear? Dear, my ass. “In English, please, dear,” Sophia sneered.

  “Of course, I’m sorry.” Rose looked at the old man who was waiting for her, uncertain. “Did Gabriela come with you? I would love to-”

  “Rose.” The way Sophia growled the woman’s name sent chills down Alistair’s spine. “Gabriela is none of your business.”

  “Sophia, my dear, there is no need to be discourteous,” Rose spoke in a low voice. “I just wished to see my granddaughter.” Her eyes darted again to the man, as if she were afraid of him.

  A handsome face, a fit body, an arrogant stance. The hair that once might have been a striking blond mane was now white, combed back from his forehead. The old man approached them with a contemptuous look on his face he didn’t try to hide. The hate showed in his blue eyes. He didn’t greet Sophia or Alistair.

  “Então-”

  Rose’s hand on his arm prevented him from continuing. “In English, Alberto dear, Lord Ells probably doesn’t speak Portuguese.”

  The man completely ignored Alistair and carried on in Portuguese, although he spoke English quite well. “So, you came back. I knew you wouldn’t succeed.” He inspected her, taking in her Valentino dress and Chanel purse and sandals and paused at her Rolex watch and engagement ring. At this last stunning piece, he raised his brows. “Have you already managed to irresponsibly destroy my son’s fortune?”

  “Irresponsibly like the way you got him killed?” Sophia answered him in English. There was such wrath in her voice that it cracked like a whip.

  Alistair’s hand tightened on Sophia’s waist.

  The old man’s face turned ashen and his mouth thinned, but he didn’t defend himself as Alistair expected.

  “No, Alberto,” Sophia bit out his name and smiled darkly at the man. “You have always underestimated me, haven’t you? I’m wealthier now, no thanks to you. Seems I have a knack for the oil business.” Her eyes narrowed and she glowered at him through slits. “In fact, you never liked me, did you?”

  “Sophia, please, my dear, that’s not true,” Rose’s voice was a whisper.

  “Where are you hiding our granddaughter?” Alberto raised his voice. “We have the right to see her.”

  Sophia’s lenience had run out. When Gabriel was kidnapped and murdered, she was too desperate to think straight. Not now. Not anymore. She stood taller and stepped away from Alistair’s embrace and flung her hair back.

  Sophia, seething, poked a finger on Alberto’s chest. “Let me tell you something, Al-ber-to. You don’t deserve my respect any more. You killed your own son. What you did to Gabriela, and also to me, was heinous. You are a horrible person. You taint Gabriel’s memory.”

  Alberto Leibowitz was speechless. Sophia had always been so sweet, polite and respectful.

  “And, you.” She spun to face Rose, her eyes blazing, and hissed between clenched teeth, “You, Rose, how could you? Your only child. You could have paid the ransom and prevented your son’s death. You’re so pathetically weak! You let Alberto do whatever he wants. You are as guilty of Gabriel’s death as your bloody damned husband. I despise you.” She faced the couple so enraged, a taste of blood so strong in her mouth, that she charged on without thinking, unleashing all the pain and hatred that had been bottled up for years. “You want to see Gabriela? To take her away from me again? Do you think I’m stupid? You’re not going anywhere near her. Ever again. She’s afraid of you. She hates you.”

  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 roared 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 that 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 towed her away.

  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 not.” 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.

  She snorted. A strange light appeared on her face. “Don’t tempt me, I might say yes.” Her smile waned, “No, 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.”

  The Gonçalves & 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 dressed in 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 inwards 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 have ever tasted. We used to make scrumptious treats together.” 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. I’ve been a good girl.”

  “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’m not. You all are savages.” A young tall woman wearing glasses, dressed in 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 and the little girl turned serious.

  “I’m sorry, Mama. Good evening,” she said composed, then started giggling again. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine, love,” Sophia smiled, standing on her tiptoes to kiss her daughter. “So you had fun with your aunt?” She pushed the door to a huge square room, all done in soft pastel colors with modern paintings hanging on the wall.

  “Yes, she had. Almost drove Grandma crazy. Too much energy,” said Carol, seriously.

  “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 and Alistair spun around.

  Sophia’s smile opened wide and she threw herself in Felipe’s arms. He was informally dressed, wearing a light-pink shirt, with its long sleeves rolled up and navy slacks. He laughed, kissed and hugged her. He smiled 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 err...” 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, thinning his lips. “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 Westwood entered the living room, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses, for the first time in the evening, Carolina really smiled. She pushed from the rail of the balcony, where she was 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 meant?” Felipe was scowling.

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

  Had?! What she meant by ‘had’? “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. Is not? How is it for you, then? “Nae?” A hurt look appeared on his face and he stepped further back into the shadows and stayed there looking at the waning crescent moon partially obscured by the rainy clouds.

  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 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 t
o 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, who, in turn, giggled.

  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 leather black 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.

  “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 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.”

  “Indeed,” Alistair answered drily and quirked one black eyebrow, snatching his hand from Drake’s grip. This man’s gaze is unpleasant. Alistair’s countenance darkened. How dare he look at Sophia like that?