Trust: Betrayed (10 page)

“Huh?” Scott swallowed and the pen vanished below the table. “Of course, sir. Thank you. Anything else?”

“Have you checked her phone lines?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to call a hacker-”

“A-a hacker, sir?” Scott stammered.

“Yes,” Ethan stated calmly as he looked for the hacker’s contact in his BlackBerry. “He is the best in his field.”

Scott’s eyes widened and he almost rubbed his hands together; he so loved spying. “Do you want him to bug her lines?”

“Of course! Here,” Ethan’s cell phone screen showed a cell phone number and a name, Ghost.

“And, sir, he can hack into her computers, too.” Scott got excited. “And break into the security system of her house. Surely, it’s controlled by a remote computer.”

“Scott, never forget this, information is essential. Always. Always listen. Even to gossip.”

“Of course, sir. Employees love to gossip about their employers’ lives.” Scott said eagerly not realizing what he was saying.

“Unfortunately,” Ethan said curtly. “I want everything done. Everything. But it’s crucial I’m kept informed of every step. And I want Ghost to wipe clean all traces of any research you do from my computer. In fact, buy yourself a new laptop. Start working with that, and don’t leave it here. Ever.”

“Mr. Ashford, I keep all vital information encrypted. I would never leave anything that could be traced back to us.”

Ethan smiled at him, his azure eyes twinkling. “Scott, you are the best.”

Scott puffed out his thin chest. “Thank you, Mr. Ashford. Do you want to meet with Ghost, sir?”

“Scott, people in his line of work are necessarily secretive. He will never meet a client and we will never know anything about him. If we want something done, we have to leave instructions in a p.o. box. Surely you can understand his fastidiousness.”

“Ah,” Scott was breathless. “Of course, I understand.”

“Good. Scott, no handwritten notes. Should notes be necessary, type them and use gloves to handle them.”

Scott’s eyes bulged with excitement and he bobbed his head. “Yes, yes, sir.”

“When working here, keep the office locked and don’t leave any research scattered around. As soon as you have all the details you need, burn all written or printed information.”

“Indeed, sir, indeed. Consider it done, as you instructed.”

“Good. I want to be kept abreast of everything she does. Every little thing. I’m giving you a big bonus if you get this first part of the work done properly.” Ethan turned his head to the newspaper, dismissing his secretary, “Thank you. That will be all.”

Scott picked up his file and started to exit the room as Ethan called, “Ah, Scott.”

“Yes, sir...” Scott halted and turned, opening his leather folder, ready to take notes.

“For tomorrow morning. I need Carter and the legal department to devise a taxation strategy so I can make contributions to her foundation. A huge contribution to start with. Directed to women and children in India and China. And I’ll have lunch with her to discuss the application of the funds.” Ethan paused, thoughtfully. “A business lunch, of course.”

“Of course,” Scott concurred, in a whisper.

“Only the two of us, in a secluded restaurant. I’ll think about it and let you know where it is going to be. Tell Carter to call me as soon as he has it done, so I can instruct him further.”

“Yes, sir. It will be done.” Scott left the room with a big grin on his thin lips, thinking about how easy and enjoyable his job was and the big bonus that would be in his bank account by the end of the week.

8.55 a.m.

Sophia paused at the door of her Jaguar and, looking at her reflexion in Steven’s aviator sunglasses, instructed, “Steven, our first stop will be at Dr. Kent’s. Then drive Mr. MacCraig to the bank and come back to pick me up, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Leibowitz.” He opened the door for her.

Sophia, waving good-bye to Gabriela, entered the car.

As the door softly closed, she turned to look at the handsome man beside her.
Should I ask?
“Alistair Connor?”

Catching the solemn note in her voice, he glanced up from his iPhone, where he was typing a message. “Aye?”
Business can wait. The world can wait. Sophia comes first.

She scooted closer to him and picked up his hand, tracing the veins on its back and the ring on his finger. “You haven’t brought up the issue you wanted to talk about... after our... brusquely interrupted lunch.”

Fuck.
He stiffened for a moment then relaxed, entwining their fingers. “That requires a lengthy talk. I have to... explain a lot of things to you.”
Before someone does it in the wrong way.

“She seemed very... intimate.”

He pushed up his sunglasses and then hers. Staring seriously into her eyes, he explained, “Sophia, that woman... She is Emma Miller.”

So?
She looked at him, waiting for the rest of the explanation.

“The surname; doesn’t it ring a bell?”

“No. Why? Should it?”

You really don’t know.
It baffled him that she hadn’t the least bit of interest in his past. “Emma was... Heather’s sister.”

“Oh.” She inhaled deeply. “I see.”
No. I don’t see. She behaved like a lover, not a sister-in-law.

He placed his hand over hers, “I need time to explain it all to you. I wanted to do it yesterday, but...” He shrugged.

“But...”

“We were so happy. I didn’t want to spoil the night by talking about an unpleasant issue. Perhaps we can have dinner tonight at my place...”

“Tomorrow morning I wake up very early. And... I haven’t been sleeping very much these last few days.”

The bright smile she gave him made his heart fill with an exaltation and a tenderness that astounded him. They were the kinds of emotions he’d never felt for a woman in his whole life.

“Have I told you today that I love you?” he asked, the past few days vivid in his mind.

“Ah...” she frowned, teasing. “I don’t remember.”

Putting her on his lap, he whispered on her lips, “Then let me remind you.”

Atwood House.

Wednesday, March 17

, 2010.

06.15 a.m.

“You’re going to spoil me,” Alistair stretched and smiled to a freshly showered Sophia, who had just awaken him with a kiss.

“My lord,” she bowed, a big smile on her lips, “breakfast for two is served.”

“Hmm. Give me another kiss,” he asked and when she bent he pulled her back into bed.

“Alistair Connor. No, no, no. Not today. I give classes at eight in Cambridge.”

He just chuckled and rolled over her, “I don’t give a fuck.” He lifted his broad shoulders, unpinning the clip he had given her and undoing the black velvet choker that covered the black-and-blue marks on her neck. Kissing it tenderly, his deft fingers untied the side bow of her wrap dress. “By the way, this dress is too sexy to be worn to work.”

“Quoting your poor language, I don’t give a fuck.” Sophia put her hands on his chest and pushed, but he laughed and bit her earlobe and neck.

“You’re going to distract your students.” He pushed her bra to the side and nibbled her nipple, before murmuring, “They’ll want to study anatomy instead of criminal law.”

Sophia chuckled and pushed his chest again but he didn’t budge. “Alistair. Stop!”

He lifted his head for a second, “I’ll solve your time problem.” And moved to the other breast.

Sophia, who had already melted in his arms, moaned, “How?”

“Munro can take you and bring you back,” he told her between kisses spread on her stomach, heading down. “Ten, fifteen minutes tops.” His fingers hooked the sides of her panties and pushed them down her legs as his mouth hovered just inches from her almost bare mons. He paused and looked at her, “What do you think?”

She opened her yellow diamond eyes, and ordered, putting a leg over his shoulder, “Stop talking and start kissing.”

His masculine, deep chuckle filled the room accompanied by her pleasure moan while their breakfast got cold in the dining room.

Leibowitz Oil Building.

12.19 p.m.

Sophia’s phone buzzed from an incoming WhatsApp message. She looked at the screen and smiled.

I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: I can still taste you in my mouth. Hmm. I’m hungry. I want a special delivery.

Sophia: Don’t you have to work?

I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: I’m signing a huge new contract. Have lunch with me to celebrate.

Sophia: Sorry, my dear. I can’t. Lots of work.

I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it:

Sophia: I promise a feast 4 you this evening.

I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it: I can’t wait. Love you.

Sophia looked at the last two words and her heart beat fast, too fast, in her chest.
I love you, you say, Alistair Connor. What are you expecting to hear from me?

Sophia: See you at six.

No more answers came, Sophia could almost bet the green eyes she so admired were not sparkling any more. It pained her but she wasn’t ready yet to say the same to him.

12.36 p.m.

“Mrs. L., Mr. Ashford is on your private line,” Sarah said through the intercom.

“Oh, damn,” Sophia muttered under her breath. “Please, Sarah, tell him I’m very busy. That I’ll-”

An impatient knock on the door interrupted her as Sarah explained, “Mr. Davidoff asks if you can receive him and Mrs. Chanda, Mrs. L..”

Sophia unlocked her door and huffed, “What a day! Sarah, please tell Mr. Ashford I can’t-”

“You can,” interrupted Edward as he entered her office with Zahira Chanda, the president of her foundation. “Take Ashford’s call.” Turning to Zahira he said, “We arrived just in time.”

“What?” Sophia frowned at Edward’s cryptic remark. “Hold on for a sec, Sarah, please.”

Zahira Chanda, a pleasant and calm middle-aged Indian woman, who always dressed in silk saris no matter the weather, approached Sophia’s desk and placed on it an enormous envelope with the Ashford Steel logo stamped in black and silver on the top left corner. It was addressed to
Sophia Leibowitz’s Foundation for Women and Children, Mrs. Zahira Chanda, President
. “Mrs. L., he wants to make a huge contribution to the foundation. Let’s hear what he has to say.”

He won’t say it on the phone. You don’t know him, Zahira.
Sophia raised her brows and sighed. “Okay. Put him through, Sarah, please. Hello, Ethan.”

“Sophia, darling, how are you?” Ethan’s beautiful baritone voice came through clearly over the speaker as Zahira and Edward sat across from Sophia.

“I’m fine, thanks. And you?” Sophia pulled out a black leather folder with the Ashford Steel logo in intaglio containing a presentation of a business plan. A cordial letter signed by Ethan began the document.

“Better now. Sophia, I’m calling because Ashford Steel has recently redone its tax plan for the upcoming year and we need a foundation to invest in. You know the drill,” he explained. “I remembered that you have one. Perhaps you can accommodate us.”