Trust (6 page)
“On Friday night.”
“Saturday, then.” His azure eyes were so brilliant they had surpassed the color of the Mediterranean Sea.
Sophia found herself answering before she could think. “Saturday, then.”
His victorious smile almost frightened Sophia.
Leibowitz Oil Building.
Tuesday, January 5
th
, 2010.
9.45 a.m.
Ethan entered the building where Sophia worked with the firm intention of requesting a meeting with her. He didn’t even know if she was there. She had not answered his calls since the day she was supposed to return from her holiday trip to Brazil.
Sophia Santo was the most difficult woman to please he had ever met. He thought she’d call him first thing when she arrived. He’d taken her to lunch and dinner more than a dozen times and at the last dinner, just before her trip to Rio de Janeiro, he had given her a Christmas’s gift that would make any woman come running back to his arms. But by saying it was only a memento, he had trivialized the gift.
How could an Oiseaux de Paradis clip, earrings and ring from Van Cleef and Arpels with spectacular yellow and blue sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds be only a memento?
He knew she had liked it. She had thanked him and apologized for not remembering to buy him a gift, but he dismissed it, saying that she was his gift. Still… She had resisted his charm. A small peck on his lips was his reward.
Jesus!
This obsession annoyed him. It was weird for him to behave like this. He was pining. He wasn’t a man to pine.
No, I don’t pine. Not at all. For no woman
. Ethan felt unsettled.
Whatever he wanted, he got; it didn’t matter how. There was nothing he could not have, nothing he could not buy. He had only the best.
I want her
. He had decided that the first minute he saw her. If necessary, he would move worlds to have her.
“Good morning. I’d like to see Ms. Santo. It’s Mr. Ethan Ashford,” he identified himself at the building reception and handed his ID to the receptionist when asked.
“Is she expecting you, ah, Mr. Ashford?” the attendant inquired. Her tag read “Kathleen.”
“No, but I’m sure she will see me. Anyway, it’s an emergency.”
“Please, wait a minute. I’ll contact her secretary.”
“Sarah, Mr. Ashford is here to see Mrs. Santo.” She listened for a while, and smiled at him, “Just a minute, sir.”
He smiled back at her, “No problem.”
After a little while, the receptionist answered, “Thank you.” She smiled again at him, handing over a tag that said ‘Visitor’, “Mrs. Santo will receive you, Mr. Ashford. Would you like me to accompany you?”
“No, thank you very much, Kathleen,” he grinned at her. “Just tell me the way.”
He followed the directions she gave him. In less than a minute, he stood in front of Sophia’s secretary. Sarah, a slender, salt-and-pepper haired, middle-aged woman, wore a conservative black suit.
“Good morning, Sarah. How do you do?” he smiled at her. “I’m so sorry to show up like this, but I really have to talk to Ms. Santo.”
“She’ll receive you now.” She walked to the farthest door from her table. After knocking, she opened it. “Mr. Ashford.”
At once, Sophia rose from the chair behind the table and strolled to the door. “Mr. Ashford, please come in.” She smiled and motioned her hand to Edward. “Let me introduce you to Mr. Edward Davidoff. He is the CEO of Leibowitz Oil.”
Ethan and Edward shook hands, measuring each other. “A pleasure to meet you, Davidoff.”
“My pleasure, Ashford.” He turned to Sophia, “Mrs. Santo, I expect your analysis soon.” Edward gave her a wicked wink before closing the door.
“How are you, my darling?” he kissed her softly on her lips, respecting the boundaries she had set. “You look adorable today, as always,” he complimented.
She looked utterly natural and fresh, only a little makeup to enhance the amber of her eyes. She wore a long Indian-style vest, with a navy-and-dark green pattern, and navy trousers that hugged her legs. One might think of her as a fashion designer, not a lawyer.
She watched him seriously, “Sarah told me it was an emergency, Ethan. Please, sit down.” She motioned to the armchairs in front of her desk, “Do you want some coffee, tea, or something else to drink, water?”
“Tea, please.”
She went to a wood-paneled wall, pushed it and a disguised cupboard appeared. She took out a tea chest and she placed it on her desk in front of him. She turned on a machine and placed two cups under it. In a few seconds the cups were filled with steaming water.
“Milk? Sugar?” she asked.
“Nothing, thank you.” He observed her. A very beautiful woman with elegant gestures.
Her cool façade doesn’t fool me
.
Sophia handed him his cup and saucer with a small napkin and waited for him to choose a tea. He singled out an Earl Grey. She smiled down at him, picked out the same, and sat on her chair opposite him.
“I thought you worked for Holbrook,” he put forth as a start to the conversation. He wanted to know all about her.
“No. I told you I worked
with
Professor Holbrook. Quite different.”
“Indeed.” He looked around, “You have a splendid office.”
She quirked an eyebrow.
“Not what I expected for someone so young.”
“I’m the head of the legal department here.”
“Impressive. But I should have imagined it. You’re very intelligent. And you seem competent, too,” he praised her.
“I am. Competent, I mean.” Her gaze wandered over him, taking in the way his hair was combed, his softly groomed beard, his expensive suit, the way his legs were crossed, and even his shoes. “How may I help you?”
He started to feel uncomfortable.
Turn the tables on her, Ashford
.
She steepled her fingers, tapping them, as if impatient.
She won’t make this easy
. Ethan cleared his throat. “This is a private matter, Sophia. So if you’re too busy, please, feel free to tell me.”
“Ethan.” He could hear the annoyance in her voice. “If I were too busy, I wouldn’t have received you.” Her smile softened her firm answer. “Please, tell me what you so desire.”
Ms. Santo’s fire is kindling. Keep going, baby. Let’s make you burn
. “Since you put it that way, I’ll be blunt.” He didn’t smile. “Have I done something to offend you?”
Sophia’s face showed surprise; her fingers still interlaced. “Offend? No, not at all. Why?”
“You haven’t answered my calls since I last saw you in December. And you didn’t phone me when you returned.”
“I have been quite busy. I’m overseeing the renovation of my new home and had some pressing matters to take care of. Besides, I didn’t promise to call as soon as I arrived, did I?” She sipped her tea, waiting for him to continue.
“No, you didn’t. The thing is, Sophia, I…”
Say it. You’re Ethan Ashford. No one refuses you. It will not start with her
. He rose from his armchair, circled her desk, and propped a thigh on the corner of her desk, near her chair.
“Yes?” She turned her chair to face him, crossing her long legs.
Jesus!
Naughty thoughts entered his mind, making him bold.
Showtime, Ashford
. “I want you, Sophia.” He leaned in her direction. “I’ve wanted you from the minute I saw you at Heathrow,” he admitted. “And what I want, I conquer.” A crooked smile complemented the bold statement.
Sophia smiled back, teasing. “And you think as Julius Caesar: Veni, vidi, vici?”
He gave her a grin. “Exactly. Just like that.”
“Ah… But I’m not that easy to conquer, Mr.
Giulio Cesare
Ashford.” Her smile widened.
“So, it seems that I will have to put all my resources to the task,” he growled. He liked sparing with words.
Easy victories are for lesser men. Besides, it will add spice to the relationship. Relationship? Jesus! Where has this sprung from?
“So you barge into my office to propose…” She tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “What are you proposing, Ethan?”
“Not a one-night stand. That’s for sure. I want something more permanent for us. How can I propose something if you’ve vanished since our last dinner?”
“I see.” She sipped her tea again, playing for time.
What shall I answer?
“What do you fear?” He leaned in toward her. “‘Never was anything great achieved without danger.’”
“Oh, please!” She suddenly looked exasperated. “Seriously. Do you really think life is a war?”
He was startled. “Have you read
The Art of War
?” He straightened his back to tower over her.
“Machiavelli’s entire work. In the original Italian,” she boasted and rose from her chair, facing him. “First Julius Caesar, then Machiavelli. Who’s next? Robespierre? Oh, no. Not Robespierre. Too revolutionary, wasn’t he? Life is not a war, Ethan.”
Ethan smiled, amused.
She won’t let herself be cornered. Good, very good. I just have to keep fueling her fire
.
“All right, all right.” He raised his hands in a peace gesture. “How about passion?”
“Passion…” She sat again and drilled her nails on the glass desk, meditating. “Yes, passion is an indispensable ingredient of life.” Then the smile came back to her lips, “and to war.”
So easy
. “See, we came back to the beginning. It’s just a different way of putting it. I wish- No. I’m inviting you to go out with me again, Sophia. Today. An opera, a ballet, a play; choose… After, dinner.” He seized her hand and squeezed it lightly. “Please.”
He is handsome. Intelligent, charming, a gentleman. Attentive to detail. Quite arrogant and possessive, yes, but then everyone has imperfections. Don’t I have mine too? Why not fall for his seduction? Gabriel’s not returning from the dead. He wouldn’t want me to live alone for the rest of my life, ending up a bitter, dry woman
.
“Okay,” she capitulated. “Just let me know what time you’re going to pick me up. I’m certain I’ll appreciate your choice, as always,” she smiled.
London, Eaton Square.
Friday, January 15
th
, 2010.
8 p.m.
Sophia wore a one-shoulder, dark-red turtleneck dress and black velvet high heels.
No driver. No Rolls-Royce. No driver. Mmm…
She remembered Edward’s words. “He’ll want to impress you.”
Ethan arrived to pick Sophia driving a red Ferrari. Over the last few days, he had paraded four different expensive cars and took her to the best restaurants in town. He was always attentive and charming.
“Hello.” She entered the car and fastened the seatbelt, turning to look at him, a smile on her lips.
He perused her with lust in his electric blue eyes. “Each day you look more ravishing, Sophia.” His hand touched her right naked shoulder and ran down her arm, entwining his fingers with hers. He leaned in and kissed her hungrily. “This dress is quite sensual. I like you in blood-red. It enhances your face and your hair. Brings out the fire in you.”
“More compliments.” She smiled. “What do you want today, Ethan?”
His azure eyes sparkled and his grin turned wicked, but he didn’t answer the question.
As always, time flew when she was with him. He showed real interest in her opinions about his enterprises and asked pertinent questions about her lectures at Cambridge and her work at Leibowitz Oil.
“You didn’t like the set I gave you?” Ethan fingered a stunning clip she was wearing and looked at her.
“I loved it.” She cocked her head to the side. “I didn’t wear it today because it doesn’t go as well with the red dress. Why?”
“You’ve only used it twice.” He thinned his lips. “This one is gorgeous, Sophia. It’s also a Van Cleef, isn’t it?” He took in the earrings and the ring. “A gift?”
“Yes, to both questions.”
“I don’t like you using gifts given by other men.” He narrowed his eyes.
“Ethan, it wasn’t given to me by
other men
. My husband gave it to me. This represents a Nereid, one of the fifty maiden sea nymphs and daughters of Nereus, the sea-god, and Doris, who was the daughter of Oceanus. I love Greek mythology. Do you know the legend?”
“Did your husband think you vain and a traitress?” He was suddenly angry. “There is not an ounce of vanity or deceit in you.”
“Sea nymphs aren’t mermaids. According to the legend, the sea nymphs helped sailors navigate back to their lands. He gave me this because he said I was his beacon in life.”
His forehead creased. Now, he was angry
and
annoyed. “Nevertheless, I don’t like you using it. Use them to work, not when you go out with me.”
“Ethan!” Sophia laughed. “I cannot use this kind of jewelry to work. They’re high jewelry.”
He thinned his lips again, breathed deep, and changed the conversation. “Perhaps you want to have coffee at my apartment?” He flashed her a charming smile and touched her hand lightly with his fingers. “I bought a special blend from Nespresso and it just came in. Since you like coffee, I’m sure you will appreciate it.”
That’s it. It is now or never. Courage, Sophia!
“Sounds good.”
They left the restaurant. The valet had already fetched Ethan’s Ferrari for them.
Park Lane. Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.
11.01 p.m.
He lived near The Dorchester Hotel, on Park Lane, in a spectacular penthouse apartment on the tenth floor of a very exclusive building. A private lift served it.
The huge reception room was all done in white, glass, and steel with two enormous sofas and a glass center table. No building hindered the stunning vista from the three terraces encircling the apartment.
The white and dark green contemporary kitchen was immaculately kept. He went to one of the consoles where there was a Nespresso coffee machine and selected a blend. “Will you try the new blend?”
“Yes, thank you.” She stopped by one of the glass windows admiring the view. London never ceased to amaze her. She just loved this city with its majestic buildings and regal aura, but she had felt detached from it since she moved here. She had always liked to explore its mysteries, but unlike others who roamed at will, she hid from prying eyes.
For how long?
