Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  “Alistair. I hear horrible stories every day at the Foundation. I’m not a nun, or a virgin anymore.” She bit her lip, weighing his reasons. “It’s better to learn the truth than to be lied to. Emma told me a few things already. You are the man I’ve married, the one I’ve chosen. I prefer to hear your side of it.”

  Very well then. He breathed deep, clearing his thoughts. “As you already know, after April two-thousand-one, my status at the bank changed and Heather bulldozed her way into my life. She was an eager and creative lover and was always available to do whatever I wanted her to. When we went for missionary, although she always climaxed—or faked it—I sensed there was something lacking and I thought it was my fault. After all, I was much younger than she was. She usually called me sir, even when we were alone at work, and once, during sex, she called me sir. I told her no’ to, but she whispered in my ear that it pleased her to be owned and obedient.” He shrugged. “The kinkier things became, the more she would like it and abide. I faked knowledge, but the fact was, I had never gotten in contact with anyone like her, so I tried the wildest sexual ideas I had without thinking. How naïve. I couldn’t imagine that behind the good employee and the woman who kept the apartment immaculate, my clothes and shoes ready, and even organized my personal correspondence was a sadistic tortured woman. She liked to be my…” He searched for a word. Servant? Not quite. Submissive? Yes, but still...

  “The word you’re looking for is slave,” she enlightened him, in a horrified breath. Oh, my. “Wait. Wait—”

  Christ, Sophia! Nae. His hands moved from the back of his head in a flash and cupped her face, his thumb on her mouth stopped her. “Nae, sweetheart, never. I’m your heart slave. I love you and you’ve won my heart. Ours is an equal relationship.” A crooked white smile appeared on his face. “Well, an equal relationship where I dictate the orders.”

  She slapped his bicep. “Dream on.”

  He chuckled. Putting another pillow under his head, he became serious again. “She was eager to please and fulfill any fantasy I had. And so many other things. She never told me she was a submissive who needed and craved pain and humiliation. She loved obeying my orders and I did order her around, a bit hurriedly, sometimes even harshly in the office, without even noticing it.”

  “Humph!” Sophia settled herself more comfortably on his body, her chin resting on her hands. “You order everyone around. Noticing it or not.”

  “Do I order you?” he asked, amazed.

  You do. “You try.”

  I wish. “When she proposed having a threesome, I agreed. She said the girl was clean and on birth control, desperate to be fucked by me, The Mighty Alistair Connor, the best stud of the MacCraig stables,” he said ironically. “Sometimes, Heather just watched, and her friends said things to her like, ‘Your stud is fucking me.’ She masturbated and got off hard.”

  God! “And you liked that?” Sophia was trying hard to imagine it. For her it was a clear cause for therapy or even psychiatric intervention. “You liked that women talked to—” Not wife. “To her like that?” That crazy whore.

  I never gave it much thought. “It was like a drug: the more I had, the more I wanted. The sex was so hot, it never crossed my mind that there could be something wrong. I thought I loved her, Sophia. She did everything to please me. I would do whatever pleased her. If she liked it, it was good for me.”

  This is wrong. One should never do whatever the other asks just aiming to please. The answer didn’t convince her very much. “Hmm. So?”

  “One woman followed another. Nice, kinky sex. Threesomes, light toys, customs, lace, leather. I had never had so much fun in my life. Thriving in business and being worshipped at night, in the morning, and during the whole weekend. I’m sure they had it all planned behind my back: the seduction, the pregnancy, the marriage and the subsequent abortion.”

  “They?”

  “I can bet Emma had always been behind Heather, and the fucking idiot here never knew.”

  What can I say to this? Fucking idiot is an understatement.

  He was silent for a long time. “After Nathalie…I tried to glut the emptiness inside myself with the sex and violation of women’s bodies, but I had an uncontrollable craving to regurgitate every nasty feeling that had filled me in those moments. I preferred fragile, extremely thin, dependent, and sexy blondes. Until you. When I met you, on that cold January twentieth,” she smiled and he kissed her lips, “my inner soul knew I had found the perfect balance of secure and fragile, strong and independent, and to top it off, feminine and sexy. The way you put first Wales, then me in our places. Fucking hell, Sophia! I thought I would come in my trousers. When you left the room tucked under Davidoff’s protective embrace, I knew I would have to have you. You had the audacity to repel me. That made me crawl after you. I would have groveled if needed. It appealed to my inner male, I had to conquer you.” He pushed up his strong body, leaning his back on the pillows and headboard, shifting her more comfortably on his lap. “When we kissed in the car, I almost took you then and there.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Never, Lord Caveman. Why didn’t you ever notice Emma if she worked at the bank?”

  “Emma worked dressed in black suits, wore flats, a tight bun, no make-up, bounded breasts, and heavy framed glasses.”

  Sophia’s jaw dropped open. “Are we talking about the same woman?”

  “Aye, the same. She was a submissive at that time and had to dress like a man. She was in training. Figures. Then Heather got pregnant. I was ecstatic; my whole family was against Heather; we married and she aborted a month later. In our bathroom. Her screams terrified me and there was so much blood. I don’t know if Emma helped her.”

  “She didn’t need help. She just needed to take certain pills,” Sophia said.

  “I called an ambulance and took her to a hospital. Emma was already there. Her ob-gyn, a friend of theirs, lied, saying it was for the best because of the fetus’s defect. We resumed our sex life; but she was clearly no’ satisfied. The more considerate I was, the more dissatisfied she became. It was then she asked to be spanked. I was stunned, but we set a new routine. One morning, she asked me if she could bring her best friend to introduce us to the utmost pleasurable sex that evening. I asked myself what that could be, said yes, but didn’t give it much thought.” Again.

  “Emma.” She grimaced. “Ugh, Alistair Connor. When Emma told me you had sex with her and her sister, I thought I would vomit. It would be as if I had you and Tavish Uilleam. At the same time. Ugh!”

  She wanted that too. “When I arrived home, Heather, completely naked but for a white collar and shackles that tied her hands to the back of a leather belt, was kissing and being fondled by another blonde clad in a black leather corset and thigh-high boots. All my tiredness flew away. It was an experience no young man would let pass. I wish I could say I was disgusted when I discovered the other blonde was Emma, but nae. It surprised me, aye, but she had the situation under her control. She apologized for starting things before I arrived and made Heather kneel at my feet, saying they were there to obey me.”

  Oh, my. “Stop. What we just did…”

  “Nae, Sophia. Don’t compare,” he said almost angry. “It’s different.”

  How is it different? “I don’t understand why this sharing is so sexy. Besides…how can you pleasure both at the same time? Hmm…” Sophia couldn’t avoid blushing with the thoughts that invaded her mind. She whispered, “You only have one penis.”

  Alistair laughed out loud. “Have you never seen a nice threesome porn movie? A nice one?”

  Really, Alistair Connor. Do you think I have time for this? She shook her head, blushing even more. “No. Not a nice threesome movie, or any porn movie. Just pieces of those repulsive hard-core ones.”

  I’ll show a few someday. “Men usually like threesomes with two women.”

  Gabriel didn’t. “Not all men,” she interrupted. Before he asked how she knew that, she said, “My instincts never fail me.”


  He heard the thoughts whirling in her head. Maybe she’s right… “Anyway, there are men who like threesomes with two women and others who pair to pleasure one woman. The last one is not an option for me.”

  “For your information, neither of those are mine.”

  He kissed her lips lightly. “I do hope so. I’m not sharing you with any one.”

  “Good.”

  Her curt answer showed him he had explained enough about Emma. “What happened today...you seduced me. And when I saw the lingerie,” his hand caressed the flimsy corset he had set aside, “and that shameless g-string you were wearing, I went mad with desire. I didn’t know what your answer would be and I was prepared for a no. We let our feelings rule us. With you, Sophia, it’s all about emotions.” He searched her eyes and asked, “Did you like it?”

  She picked up his thumb and sucked it sensuously in her mouth. “Hmm. I think I’ll have to give it another try to answer your question properly.”

  Chapter 14

  10:52 p.m.

  “Nae, you’re not made of sugar,” he said, licking the corner of her mouth. “But of something much more delicious.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” Sophia put the ice-cream in the kitchen freezer and closed it. She grabbed his hand and took him to the TV room. She waited until he sat by her side and served them more wine. “Okay. We had hot sex—”

  “We made love,” he corrected, his full attention on her now.

  “Right. We made hot love twice. We both showered again. We ate dinner. We are sated and happy. Now, you can spill it.”

  He looked away for a second. How well you maneuver me, huh? “Pardon?”

  “Something has been bothering you for days. I can bet it’s not the South America deal,” she said, coming directly to the point. “I want to know what it is.”

  Bothering, no. Saddening, but I’ll get over it. “I was thinking,” he said, in his old detached way, “that we never discussed what you are going to be called.”

  Shoo, Lord Pokerface! You’re not welcome. She didn’t understand at first. “Discussed what?”

  “If you are going to use my surname at work.” And if you are throwing a ball with Ashford without acknowledging that you’ve married me.

  Oh. I thought you’d like it. “Is that it?”

  He nodded.

  “And I was having such a bad time deciphering the enigma. If I give the wrong answer, will you eat me, Lord Sphinx?”

  “Nae.” He shook his head slowly. He’d had many days to think about it and she had just showed him that it wasn’t the most important thing in their married life.

  “Well, then. I think it won’t make a difference if I use the new printed cards for our private correspondence. I can order my old ones again for LO correspondence. God. What a—”

  “Wait.” He put a finger on her lips and fused his eyes, hiding his emotions. “Are you saying that you are going to use my surname on LO?”

  Is that what you want? Sophia looked at him confused. “Well…I thought that as a married woman, I should use my married name. Why should I use my previous married one?”

  “Because you are the owner of Leibowitz and your previous surname was Leibowitz. Surely, you want to be identified with the company. Using the MacCraig surname, or your title, won’t make it obvious that you’re Sophia Leibowitz.” Christ. Is this even making any sense?

  Why that question now? What are you hiding? “And, pray tell, who told you I would do that?”

  Veritas vos liberabit. Alistair finished his wine and turned to stare right into her eyes. Don’t make this any harder than it has already been. “Sophia. I had many days to think about it. I reached the conclusion that it doesn’t matter at all what surname you choose to use as long as I have you in my arms, as long as I have you with me. Why lie?”

  Her eyebrows opened wide, with astonishment. “Lie? I’m not lying.”

  “I saw the invitation,” he emphasized. “I don’t care, really. But don’t lie to me.”

  Damn. All this just because of the ball invitation. She opened her mouth but closed it again, pressing her lips in a thin line, without saying a word.

  Sophia went to her desk and took a blank cream square envelope from a pile of work she had brought home, which she waved at him as she walked back to the sofa. “You saw this. On my desk.”

  He nodded. “I did.”

  “When?” she asked drily, standing in front of him.

  He sighed when he realized she was angry. “Monday evening. I didn’t mean to pry, Sophia.” When her eyes rounded, he realized it was coming out all wrong. She wasn’t getting it. “I was looking for more staples.”

  “And you never thought of asking me about it? Or to say that you wanted me to use your surname? You went through my things, saw what you were not supposed to see, and kept it all inside festering and rotting?”

  Nae. Nae, it’s no’ like that. “It’s your right to use whatever name you prefer. Although, of course—”

  “Aaaah. Of course, my right,” she mocked. “Good to see that you respect me.” They really screwed you up, didn’t they?

  Fuck. I’m trying to respect your wishes. Be a little more sensitive. “Sophia. You don’t need to talk—”

  “Dammit, Alistair Connor!” She stomped her bare foot on the fluffy carpet. The meek sound made her even angrier. “Don’t tell me how I can or cannot speak. It’s you that don’t know how to communicate. You could have spared yourself days of sadness. You could have spared me days of worry. You drew the wrong conclusion.”

  Forcefully, she slapped the envelope onto his chest. “Here you are.”

  He gripped her wrist and pulled her down hard on the sofa. “Calm down and lis—”

  “Read the fucking invitation card!” Sophia shouted. Oh, great. Now I’m shouting curses.

  Sophia rarely shouted. And for sure, she never cursed.

  That made Alistair look at the envelope that had fallen on his thighs. He released her wrist and raised one eyebrow at her, stunned with her reaction.

  “Read the invitation card, please,” she asked evenly, her anger deflated. She brought her wrist to her chest, rubbing it.

  His eyes followed the movement. Christ! “Did I hurt you? Let me see.”

  “No. It’s okay. Please, read it.”

  He picked up the blank square envelope and pulled the invitation card from inside. His heart stopped in his chest. There was no okay written in red all over it. Under the word ‘proof’ stamped in a corner, there was only her new signature. He looked at her, not knowing how to proceed. “Sophia, I—”

  “Please, read it out loud,” she requested. “I want to hear you say the words.”

  He cleared his throat. “Mr. Ethan Ashford, on behalf of Ashford Steel Industries and—” his voice faltered for a moment, but he proceeded firmly, “The Marchioness of Ells, on behalf of Sophia Leibowitz Foundation for Women and Children, request the pleasure—”

  “That’s enough, thank you,” she whispered, stretching her hand to pick up the envelope and the card.

  Silently and slowly, she put the card inside the envelope and it back on her desk. She looked at the Cosmograph Daytona Rolex that had been Gabriel’s. Oh, Gabriel, help me understand this complex man. “It’s late. I’m going to bed, Alistair Connor.”

  She spun on her heels and walked crisply out of the room before he could see the tears falling from her eyes.

  You’re such an ass, Alistair Connor. He cradled his head in his hands and closed his eyes tight. Such an ass.

  11:22 p.m.

  For a second, his hand hovered over the knob of the closed door of their bedroom, before he opened it.

  The room was lit only by the dim light that came from the terrace.

  Pausing on the threshold, he saw Sophia standing outside in a long lacy white wrap, watching the first quarter moon, with her arms around herself.

  He studied her wounded stance. He didn’t need a whip or a flog to hurt her, he could do th
at easily with just a word.

  His footsteps made no sound on the terrace but his peculiar scent invaded Sophia’s nostrils as soon as he got closer.

  She didn’t make any attempt to dry her face, nor did she turn to look at him.

  Alistair passed his arms around her and hated it when she stiffened. He could feel the pain emanating from her like an acrid smell.

  Don’t do this to us, Sophia. “I’m sorry, mo gràdh. So sorry. I never meant to say that you’re a liar.”

  “I know,” she breathed. And repeated, “I know.” We should have talked about this before. It’s my fault too.

  “Come to bed. It’s late.” His warm hand covered her cold one and his thumb stroked her hand tenderly. “I’m sorry, I should never—”

  She entwined her fingers with his. “No, you shouldn’t. But then I shouldn’t have either.” When she raised her eyes to look at him, her long lashes were still spiked from her tears. So very softly that it went all the way down to his soul, she whispered, “This marriage won’t last if we don’t talk to each other. Maybe because of our different upbringings, maybe because of our different personalities, we think very differently. If you keep your thoughts to yourself and I keep mine to myself, all these unspoken words will create a void so big that no sorries will be able to bridge it.”

  Fate wouldn’t be so cruel! Pain lanced through his chest. He couldn’t believe that the same voice that could turn him on, could say things that sliced through him, exposing all his putrid wounds. He saw her mouth open, and for a minute, he was sure she was going to say something even worse. But she didn’t. Instead, not a sound passed her lips as she put her forehead on his chest.

  We are both hurting and the fault is all mine. He cradled her in his arms and took her to bed, leaning her on the pillows.

  She didn’t resist when he cupped her face in his hands.

  “Sophia. Listen to me.”

  She wanted nothing more than to drown herself in the love she saw in his eyes. “I’m listening.”