Pandora's Box (35 page)

That made her eyes snap wide open.
Really?
“God, Alistair Connor. Stop this.”

“Then tell me what’s the problem.”

“All right, you want to know?! I’m having my period.”

This is wonderful.
The look on his face was one of incredulity and his heart drummed in his ears. He whispered, “Already? Is it coming normally? Or just sparse? When did it start?”

Oh, dear! This is not a man’s business, Alistair Connor.
She breathed and shrugged.
Don’t be childish, Sophia. He’s being sweet.
“It’s irregular, it started on the twenty-fifth and it’s probably going to end in a day or so.”

His eyes darkened in concern. “Should we call John? Should we do something?”
Should I start taking notes?

“Are you going to be this paranoid during the whole process?”
Please! It’s just my period. I’m not in labor.

He fell back on the pillows, stunned by his own reaction. She rolled over his body and faced him.

“Relax, Lord Worrisome. Promise me? Everything is going to be okay.”

“I promise not to worry. Much.”
Is every minute not too much? Can I put a GPS under your skin?

Oh, damn. Another overbearing husband.
She smiled wryly and lowered her head to tenderly kiss his mouth. Breaking it, she murmured on his lips, “What will happen when it’s time to go to the hospital?”

Christ! The labor. The pain. The baby.
With the last thought, his eyes misted. He inhaled deeply, but he couldn’t compose himself. “Hmm...”
I don’t have the least idea
. “I— I’ll hold you. I— I’ll call John, Tavish Uilleam, Alice, my father, your family—”

Oh, dear God.
“The Queen too?”

“Maybe,” he joked, relaxing a bit. “Just know one thing,
mo chridhe
: I’ll be there beside you. I’ll hold your hand, anything you need, I’ll do my best to provide—” 

She put a finger on his dark-pink lips with an adoring look on her face. “Are you going to cry?”

Smart, Wife.
He rolled with her, caging her in his forearms. With a crooked smile, he stated, unashamedly, “Probably. Much more than you will.”

“Don’t worry, then. I don’t cry when I’m happy.”

He shook his head, amazed, kissed her once more before turning her and spooning behind her. “I love you,
mo chridhe, mo gràdh, mo bheatha
.”

She adored it when he said she was his heart, his love, his life. She snuggled against him, whispering, “I love you too. You’re my everything.”

Ashford Steel Industries, The Greek Meeting Room.

Tuesday, January 11
^th
, 2011.

10.55 a.m.

“Do you know why you’re going to meet all our demands? Because you have a good fucking reason to. If you fail, I’m going to making the photos and both birth certificates public,” said Calista in her flawed English. She was fed up. Ethan had not transferred a single pound to their account since December and they had not been able to contact Eve again. She thought it had been a mistake not acting immediately and securing the woman’s confession.

Do it. I don’t care anymore.
Calista and George had been insistent. They had tried to contact him, but their calls were not answered and their cards were returned unopened. This morning, they were already waiting for him in the Ashford Steel reception hall.

In his already drink-induced numb state of mind, Ethan considered asking security to throw them out on the street. However, to avoid a scene he had agreed to talk to them. Nonetheless, he was hardly listening to their harsh threats, drinking from a tall glass of neat whisky.

Calista was tapping her nails on the photograph of Demetrius’s face with so much anger that they were leaving marks on it. “You’re going to winding up eating this, you little motherfucker.”

Motherfucker? You wish, you pervert.

“We want the wire transfer done now,” George sneered at him, “or you will be unmasked as a pedophile. How about that for a man that supports abused women and children, you bastard?”

“I didn’t know I was a bastard.” He laughed humorlessly and gulped his whisky. His eyes were burning with contained hatred.
It’s time to be a man, Ashford. Stop running from your past.
“Do you know, Calista, who Demetrius’s father really is?”

She looked at him surprised.

“Go on,
mum
. Gueeess,” he slurred. “Doesn’t he remind you of someone else from a long time ago?”

Calista didn’t understand for a minute. Then she whipped her head to look at George and back at the photo. Her jaw slacked and a gurgled sound came out from her throat.

“Say goodbye to your wealthy lifestyle. If you ever give this to the press, say goodbye to your fine reputation too. She was sixteen when she was with you in one of your orgies.”

George’s and Calista’s eyes widened involuntarily when he mentioned Eve’s age.

“Bullshit,” she laughed nervously. “It’s not fucking possible.”

“Holy fucking shit!” George hissed at the same time. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“STOP!” Ethan shouted.
Calm yourself, Ashford.
Draining the rest of his whisky, he said in a lower tone, “Stop cursing. You will talk properly in front of me. Understand?”

They nodded, speechless.

“One more thing. If you ever touch another under-aged girl, or boy, for that matter, and it doesn’t matter if they’re supposedly there of their own free will, I’ll turn you over to the police. How about a few months in jail?”

When they just nodded again, Ethan banged his fist on the table. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” The word came out of their mouths in unison.

“Right now you should be congratulating yourselves that I’m letting you keep my grandmother’s house.”

George was so scared that he decided he had to mollify Ethan. “Thank you, Ethan.”

Thank you?!
“You’re welcome. Let me tell you the best part of our meeting.”
I want to see you thanking me.
Ethan leaned back on his tall chair and glared at them. “I would never give you another pound. You would only be allowed to stay in Grandma’s house
if
you behave. I don’t care if you debase yourselves but you’re not debauching any child or teenager, or forcing yourselves on poor women. To make sure of this, I’ll be checking up on you. Cameras will be put in the house and I will be informed daily of your
activities.
You’ll have to report your coming and going. If you ever,
just once,
step out of the boundaries, I will exert my right and evict you from the house, besides reporting you to the police. Understood?”

They listened to every syllable Ethan was saying with incredulity and terror descending over them. All they could do was nod.

“Now, go. Never come back again. Enjoy the rest of
my
life.” Ethan laughed when he finished.

The sound rushed over his parents like a rumble that announced a tempest.

Leibowitz Oil Building, In the garage,

Inside Sophia’s Jaguar.

4.05 p.m.

“Home, Mrs. MacCraig?” Through the intercom, Zareb’s voice cut into Sophia’s thoughts.

She had just scrolled down her messages and found one from Scott. It had arrived when she was getting into the car and didn’t hear it.

Scott Mulberry. 3.44 p.m. - Mr. Ashford needs your help. Pls, come. I don’t know what to do anymore.

“Hold on a sec, Zareb.” Sophia bit her lip, unsure of what to do. She was a married woman. She should not be going to apartments, much less to hotel suites of single men. Worse, a single man who had been her lover.

She called Alistair but he didn’t answer.

She called Scott.

When he told her what was happening, she informed Zareb she was heading to The Dorchester. She picked up her iPhone to send a message to Alistair, but decided otherwise as she didn’t know what his reaction would be. It’d be better if she explained everything to him afterward at home.

The Harlequin Suite.

4.28 p.m.

“Wake up, please, Ethan!” Sophia tightened her grip on his arms, shaking him. 

He responded to gentle nudging with a snort and a slap on one of her hands, without opening his eyes. “Go away.” 

Ethan was sprawled sideways on the ivory suede sofa; an empty bottle of Blue Label whisky was on the table. His tie was undone, hanging around his neck, and his white shirt was open and stained with whisky. 

“God, Scott. Why didn’t you call me earlier? Since when has he been like this?”

“He’s been having some terrible problems, Sophia. Private matters. According to the hotel, he came back around half past twelve. At a quarter past two, he ordered another bottle of whisky. I tried to contact him at around three. When he didn’t answer, I decided to see what was happening.”

“Shhhhh!” Ethan hissed and fell asleep in a drunken stupor.

She sat on the floor near Ethan’s head, combing her fingers through his silky sun-kissed hair. She whispered to Scott, “What kind of problems? His parents again?”

Scott didn’t know what he should say, but he always felt comfortable around Sophia and knew she liked Ethan a lot in spite of what had happened between them. He sat on the small ottoman next to her, and in a hushed tone, told her a lighter version of what had happened to Ethan since their break-up. 

How he managed to tell Sophia everything, omitting the fact that Ethan had hired a hacker; had stalked her; paid a woman to pose as his girlfriend and another to fulfill his sexual needs, not even Scott himself knew.

Dubai. In a dimly lit room.

5.16 p.m.

Ghost thrived in creating havoc in other people’s lives.

Or, as he liked to think, he was just exposing sinful people’s flaws. The fact that he earned money with it made it even more pleasurable, but the most important piece of his game was demanding and difficult to please and to understand. Uóchington Silva said all his whims should be met because he was Uó, Aw of the
Borogodó.

What that meant, Ghost couldn’t guess. Uó tried to explain himself but they were having serious communication issues.

He started to type quickly and his lips curled up as he sent an encrypted email.

____________________________________________________________

From:
[email protected]
                January 11, 2011 at 5:24 p.m.

To:
[email protected]

Subject: communication issues                                            !!

____________________________________________________________

I need a translator in London. Immediately. It’d better be you.

____________________________________________________________

Chapter 20

The Harlequin Suite.

5.26 p.m. 

Sophia was sitting on the comfortable chaise upholstered in buttery leather, looking out to the cloudy sky as complete darkness descended over the room. She didn’t feel like getting up to turn on the lights or even moving from where she was. She could never have imagined seeing Ethan in such a state. It made her so very sad.

She had taken matters into her own hands after Scott had finished the story. 

The luxury of the master bathroom, with its black Nero Marquina marble floors and white Arabescato Oro on the walls, was lost to her as she drew a cool bath while Scott called two butlers to carry Ethan in.

She asked Scott to make Ethan drink some tomato juice, even if he didn’t feel like it, and to dress him and put him in bed, before calling her to talk to him. 

The lights came on softly and Scott touched her shoulder. “Sophia.”

She sighed and pushed a lock behind her ear. “How is he?”

“Better. Sober. But in a faraway land.” Scott shrugged. “He doesn’t want to see you.”

“But
I
want to see him.” She crossed the living room in deep thought, knocked gently on the bedroom door and pushed it slowly, afraid of scaring him. “Ethan, I’m coming in.”

Ethan was sitting in bed, leaning on pillows, wearing a white linen shirt, with the covers pulled up to his lap. His beautiful hair was neatly combed back and he had shaved. 

Instead of Sophia, she should have been named Charity. She gives away her kindness while asking for nothing in return.
He didn’t say a word, nor looked at her, his eyes fixed on his hands on his lap.

She sat in the armchair Scott had placed near the bed and noticed he was trembling. “Ethan, please. Talk to me.”

He faced her.
I wish I could bring you inside my dark room. I would lock the door and throw away the key.

Those azure eyes she’d always found appealing were dim and the shadows under them made him look sick.

His lips curled down; seeing her as she was now, sitting next to him, taking care of him, with such a different love from the one he thought he needed and wanted, it hurt even more. 

Oh, God, Ethan. What has happened to you?
She sat on the edge of the bed, with one leg under the other, close to him. “Ethan, look. I will not be coming ‘round here, again and again, leading you on in a merry chase after what you think your heart wants. You don’t need me to fool yourself, and you don’t need yourself to be such a fool. If you keep confusing things, it will not make it easier for you.” 

He didn’t say a word.

Fate robbed every little good thing Ethan had or could have. Every scrap of happiness. It left him with nothing. He bent and always adjusted. It pained him, but he melted and molded another soul within his own, starting all over again, forging on his own fire a new Ethan. But he had never buried and grieved the Ethans that were murdered before.

“I don’t want to watch you drink yourself into oblivion and destroy your life, but I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. I don’t know what your parents said to you, and anyway, you shouldn’t care. They don’t deserve a second of your precious time or an ounce of your sanity. You’re better than them.” Sophia wanted to hold him in her arms and say she would always be there for him, but she wouldn’t be, and false hope was not what he needed. “You’re better and you’re
essential
, because
you understand
, Ethan. You understand it and you have the responsibility to help. No one can replace you. I can’t travel without you, Ethan. Are you listening to me?”