Mr. Ashford?” Scott’s voice coming from the intercom interrupted Ethan’s speech.

“Just a moment, Carter.” Ethan frowned and immediately picked up the phone. Scott knew better than to interrupt a meeting when he had given strict orders not to. “Yes, Scott?”

“I thought you should be informed that Mrs. Leibowitz’s secretary canceled tomorrow’s meeting with the excuse that she had an urgent trip to Ireland. But, sir, I checked with my new informant and it’s not true.”

“Hold on, Scott.” He turned to Ronald Carter. “I need a few minutes with Scott, Carter. If you’ll excuse me.”

Ronald Carter was a young and ambitious lawyer who had been working in the legal department at Ashford Steel for over six years. He had a quick and ingenious mind and always discovered the best ways to take advantage of the legal gaps. Each year, he managed to surprise Ethan with a better tributary strategy, making his boss consider him a key player in Ashford Steel’s development.

Last year, after another promotion, Ethan had convinced Carter to enroll in a master’s course at Cambridge, funded by Ashford Steel. This, of course, served more than one purpose for Ethan.

As Scott entered his office and closed the door, Ethan rose from his chair and walked to the black leather sofa by the window.

Scott asked, “Can I make you a coffee, Mr. Ashford?”

Always subservient. Ethan acquiesced, “Yes, thank you, Scott. And Bling, please.” To each his own fetish.

Scott served coffee in the Imari china and water in a Waterford crystal glass. Each time Scott handled one of Ethan’s elaborately hand-painted china cups or opened one of the Bling H2O bottles, he felt as if he were serving a revered Samurai or a King. In fact, he had always thought of his boss as a great man with no flaws. However, Scott was discovering Ethan was human too.

Scott held the silver tray firmly. He didn’t even want to think about breaking one of those treasured objects.

“Tell me, Scott.”

* * *

Pacing the corridor, Alistair inhaled deeply and the antiseptic smell made him wrinkle his nose.

Since he had come back from his quick lunch, almost two hours ago, no doctor or nurse had appeared to brief him on what was happening. He had never been so unsettled. Not even when Nathalie was born. He almost jumped when his mobile vibrated.

Tavish Uilleam. Finally. “Where are you?”

“Good afternoon to you too, Alistair Connor. How are you?” Tavish mocked.

Alistair scolded, “Do you think I would have called you ten times if it weren’t urgent? Where are you?”

“On my way to the gallery, near Park Crescent.”

“Thank Christ. Tell Garrick to bring you here. Now!”

“Where is here? Alistair Connor, you’re not—”

“I’m alone and driving myself crazy waiting for Sophia’s doctors—”

“Sophia’s doctors?”

Alistair briefly explained what had happened.

“Calm down. I’ll be there in five minutes. I’ll talk to them.”

Tavish could hear Alistair’s sigh of relief before he answered, in a hoarse voice, “Thanks, Brother.

* * *

Tavish looked at Alistair, who was leaning on the wall, eyes closed, lips thinned, and brows drawn tight. “Don’t worry. These exams usually take a long time, Alistair Connor.”

I need to see her. I need to touch her. “She’s been inside for over three hours.” Alistair inhaled and opened his eyes just as Sophia appeared at the end of the corridor.

She was still pale and was flanked by her psychiatrist, a short and plump old man with a soft white beard, and the neurologist, his perfect opposite, a wiry, tall young man, with dark hair and black eyes.

Alistair’s long strides were barely controlled. He was in front of her in a second. He didn’t look at the doctors. He asked no questions. He said nothing.

His arms went around her and his head burrowed in her hair. He simply held her, stroking her hair, her back; his large palms moving slowly, as if to assure himself she was all right.

“Everything is okay,” Sophia whispered, and closed her eyes, leaning into his warm and strong body. His touch was pure comfort. She laid her cheek on his chest, listening to his heart, steady and sure. A shuddering sigh escaped her as some of her tension drained away. She was afraid the doctors would insist on her going back on the medication.

“Alistair Connor.” Tavish’s low voice broke the moment.

Alistair gathered his wits as he inhaled Sophia’s scent. White roses, orange, and vanilla. Sophia. All I need, all I want.

He had his poker-faced mask back in place when he looked up at the doctors but he didn’t let go of Sophia. He allowed her room enough to turn around in his arms and pulled her back to his chest.

“Mrs. Leibowitz is fine, but she needs rest and some days away from work,” explained the neurologist, Dr. Merkel.

“Now,” Sophia tapped her foot on the floor and looked from the neurologist to her psychiatrist, “Doctor Colton, we agreed—”

“Sophia.” Alistair’s stern tone told Sophia she wouldn’t get out of her imposed rest.

She angled her head to look up at him, “But—”

“No but’s.” He shook his head briskly and gazed at the doctors. “She will rest. I’ll see to it.”

“Good.” Dr. Colton, Sophia’s psychiatrist smirked at her and Sophia huffed a breath. “No work, no lectures—”

“No, no, no. I have to—”

Alistair shushed her. “Leonard will talk with Holbrook for you.”

Her psychiatrist’s smile just grew. “Finally, someone who can order you around. No work, no lectures. I’ll allow some light exercise—and I mean light, Sophia. I’ll talk with Dr. Kent. I want you in therapy every week day until Wednesday. And I’m sending someone to your house. I don’t want you to be alone.”

No. Not again. Sophia’s eyes stung and she lowered her head, blinking to keep away her tears, and whispered, “I don’t need someone to take care of me. I’m not crazy.”

“No one said that. Sophia, Dr. Kent explained it to you. You’re remembering painful things. You have hypotension, so we need to keep an eye on you.”

“That’s the only reason why we want a private nurse by your side,” complemented Dr. Merkel, the neurologist. “We don’t want you hurting yourself if you faint and fall.”

“Is there a specific need for a private nurse or will anyone do?” Tavish asked.

“Anyone who can react quickly and that is strong enough to carry her, if necessary.”

“I’ll stay,” Alistair affirmed.

“There’s no need—” Sophia started to say, but was interrupted by Alistair’s scowl.

“Don’t argue with me. I’m staying with you.”

“But—”

“Sophia.” Alistair’s tone conveyed to Sophia he was set on staying with her, no matter what she said.

She rolled her eyes and exaggeratedly blew out a breath, hiding her smile when Alistair grunted and Tavish chuckled.

“Great,” said Dr. Colton. “Let’s step into my office for a moment so I can explain everything a bit better.”

* * *

Stubborn woman. Davidoff is right. Alistair’s powerful frame, leaning against the wall in the TV room, didn’t betray his conflicting emotions. He appeared as smooth and collected as he was when he walked Edward to the door, after they all finished dinner.

But Tavish knew better. He could even sense the distrust, the anger, and a disquieting fear vibrating beneath his brother’s poker-face.

“Really, there’s no need—

“Sophia,” Tavish said. He sat beside her on the sofa and peered up at Alistair before putting his hand over Sophia’s. “You agreed to it.”

“But Tavish, I’ll be in bed in an hour. I have a house full of employees. Maria is going to sleep in Gabriela’s room. There’s no need for your brother to play the nurse.”

She turned to look at Alistair’s forest-green eyes. They were hooded and she couldn’t discern what he was thinking. She gazed back into Tavish’s and again marveled at the difference between the two brothers. She could clearly see what Tavish was thinking.

“I know you’re both worried but I…I—” She sighed and bit her lip for a second, looking down at her hands. Her face was pale when she said in a low voice, “I might have nightmares. I don’t want Alistair to be disturbed—”

“Enough!” Alistair was seething. He pushed from the wall, walked to Sophia and scowled down at her. “Enough of this bullshit, Sophia. I thought our relationship was much more than this. So I can sleep with you when you—” He interrupted himself before he said something he would regret. His hands clenched by his sides. “It’s my place to be with you. At all times. And no one is taking that away from me. Not even you.”

“But—” Tavish’s discreet head signal made her stop. She bit her lip again and bowed her head. After a moment, as Alistair didn’t say anything, she tilted her head back to search his face. Poker-faced. As usual. She put her hand over his fist and his fingers opened to grip hers. He sat next to her on the sofa.

“Sophia, I won’t sleep if I go home and leave you here by yourself.” He plunged his free hand in his long ink-black hair, the only sign of his nervousness. “Do you want me to talk Tavish Uilleam’s ears off all night long waiting for the sun to rise to come running to your door?”

Tavish grunted and Sophia’s lips twisted ruefully, as she whispered to him, “Poor Tavish Uilleam. You’ll be awake all night.”

She can’t wait to see me out of the door. So much for wanting a steady relationship. His fingers tightened around hers and his ink-black brows furrowed.

Sophia looked at him and saw that his face said he would not accept leaving her side. “Are you sure you won’t be disturbed?”

Really? Alistair huffed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“So, if you two are set, I’m going home.” Tavish got up and shoved his hands in his trousers pockets.

Alistair stood and frowned down at Sophia as she started to stand too. “You stay put. I’ll see Tavish Uilleam out and come right back. Don’t you dare move from here.”

“I’m not an invalid, Alistair Connor.” She frowned back but relaxed against the sofa.

Tavish smiled and bent to kiss her cheek. “Have a good night, Sophia.”

“Thanks, Tavish Uilleam.” She kissed him back. “For everything.”

He smiled and left the TV room with Alistair.

Sophia heard him say, “Promise to call me if she feels anything.”

She smiled when Alistair replied, “You don’t even have to ask.”

* * *

Sophia watched as Alistair pulled on a black cotton T-shirt and then tied the drawstrings of a pair of black silk pajama shorts. “I like men in silk pajamas.”

He turned to look at her framed by the dressing room doorway, and appraised her purple silk and lace nightie and matching wrap. He raised an eyebrow. “Lass, you better like just me in silk pajamas.”

She turned to the bedroom and smiled at him over her shoulder, not deigning to answer.

Sophia, Sophia. He shook his head at her back and then scowled at the futility of the act. She isn’t even seeing. And she doesn’t give a damn.

It baffled him how he let her get away with her taunts and whims so easily. He didn’t usually take well to that kind of behavior.

They’d settled in bed companionably, each one with a book. However, Alistair gazed at his, unseeing. His mind was full of the beautiful woman beside him and her independence and stubbornness. Quite how he had come to love the one woman out of all the hundreds who was impervious to intimidation, he did not know.

Maybe it’s fate. His only option was to hope fate would also provide him with the means to deal with her—and with his issues—without damaging the unconfessed love he could see in her eyes. And also their growing trust in each other. What they were building together was unique, at least in his experience. He remembered her words, ‘Quantity doesn’t mean quality’. And he knew she had made a good point. He’d had many women, but not one true relationship to brag about. On the other hand, she’d had very few men and all her relationships had been important to her.

He couldn’t define what he was feeling, or even describe it. Love was too mundane a word to encompass his feelings. He only knew it was precious, too valuable to risk. He frowned at the book and put it down, his eyes searching her face. “Sophia?”

She just lifted a finger, asking for one minute, after which she looked up from her Kindle. “Yes?”

“What happened today?”

Sophia turned off her Kindle, closed its Jimmy Choo cover, and put it on her bedside table.

She was stalling. She knew it.

However, she had no idea what she was going to say to Alistair.

“My blood pressure dropped. When I fainted, I banged my head on the floor.” Hmm. Let’s see if he falls for that.

Why are you hiding, Sophia? “That, I know. Dr. Colton said something about remembering painful things. What did you remember to make you react like that?”

Sophia leaned on the pillows and closed her eyes, sighing softly.

“Sophia?” He sat and turned, facing her.

“When Gabriel was kidnapped, I…” Her head started to pound. She couldn’t tell him. She was deeply ashamed of her warped request to Gilberto. She was a criminal; repented, but a criminal nonetheless. How could I ask for such a barbaric thing? “I’m sorry, Alistair Connor. I—I can’t talk about this.”

How many fucking secrets are you going to keep from me, Sophia? His countenance darkened. “I don’t tolerate lies, Sophia.”

“I’m not lying,” she said softly. I am just omitting. It’s not the same.

Fuck! “The hell you aren’t!” He inhaled, struggling to keep his temper under control. Trust her, Alistair Connor, so she can trust you and talk about her secrets. Gently, he brushed her hair behind her ear. “You’re shutting me out. Don’t push me away, Sophia, please.”

“Alistair, they aren’t lies. There’s only so much I can talk about right now. Please understand. I need—”

“I need you to be truthful,” he snapped, and regretted it immediately. “I don’t want a half-Sophia. I need you all. What is it going to take to make you trust me?”

“I do trust you.” She sighed and sat on the bed. “Believe me, I do.”

“So, what are you hiding? These secrets of yours are getting to be too much. I’ve told you about Heather, about Nathalie. I’ve never opened myself to someone like I have with you. And you—”

“You think I’m not open?”

“I don’t think. I know you’re no’. You could make an effort for me.” He looked up at the green-and-blue canopy of her four-poster bed. She didn’t need him pushing her at that moment. His arms went around her, pulling her onto his lap, cradling her. His knuckles caressed her face. “For us, Sophia.”

With a low moan, she rested her cheek on his chest. “I’m tired, Alistair. Give me some time, please. It’s all I ask.”

He shifted, cupping the back of her neck gently and pressing his lips to her forehead. “I’m no’ a very patient man, Sophia, and I hate to be in the dark.”

Sophia inhaled, absorbing the scent of his skin. Sublimely Alistair. “Let me work this mess out, please. Can you be just a little more patient?”

He groaned and his arms squeezed her. “Aye, I can. A bit more.”

“Thank you.” Sophia wondered if she would ever be as he wanted her to be, an open map for him to explore. She knew that it would take a great deal of courage to be truthful, trustful, and completely honest with him. But what bothered her most was that she didn’t know how much it would cost her to expose herself to him.

What will I lose? My sanity? My freedom? Your love? With her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest, she closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed for a chance to repair the cracks in her soul.

She hoped wishes could come true, that the past could be erased.

She wished she could rewind time, back to the day before Gabriel was kidnapped.

If Gabriel weren’t killed, I wouldn’t have met Alistair Connor.

The thought struck her with so much force that it left her reeling. She wriggled out of his embrace and jumped from the bed. Struggling with her wrap, she walked to the TV room, without looking back when Alistair called her name.

No, Sophia. Don’t even think that. Sophia sat on the sofa heavily and picked up the digital photo album that was on the side table. She turned it on and started going through the photos. Gabriel and her on their wedding day. Their honeymoon. The two of them and Gabriela.

Alistair wandered into the TV room and halted as he noticed she was looking at photos of Gabriel and herself. He leaned on the wall, allowing her some space.

She paused at the next photo, where Alistair’s and Gabriela’s smiling faces looked back at her. Two fat tears dropped on the screen.

I don’t know what I should wish anymore.

She felt as if her heart was being ripped out of her chest again. She put her hands on her face and sobbed.

Alistair pushed away from the wall where he was watching her and sat on the sofa, pulling her onto his lap. “Shhh, it’s okay.” You’re so stupid, Alistair Connor. How could you pressure her like this? When she is feeling so fragile? “Don’t cry, please. I’ll wait for as long as you want. Hush, sweetheart, please.” He squeezed her in his arms, “I can’t stand you being unhappy.”

That only made Sophia cry harder. If Gabriel were alive, I wouldn’t have met Alistair Connor. But how can I even wish for a split second that he weren’t alive?

“Please, mo gràdh. Don’t cry,” he whispered in her hair, rocking her in his arms. Alistair tightened his arms around her, soothing and warming her with his big body. “Christ, Sophia. I can’t take it. Tell me what I can do. Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t want to feel this. I don’t,” she whispered, leaning into him, needing the comfort he offered so readily. She buried her head in the hollow of his neck, hugging him fiercely.

“Do you want me to call your doctor? Tavish Uilleam?”

His strength anchored her. Sophia sucked in a shuddering breath, shaking her head. “No. It’s okay. I’m okay, I’m just…I’m overwrought.”

As she smelled his male scent, her head spun.

She had to mourn Gabriel. She had to make peace with her sins.

If she wished to move on.

“Sophia,” he murmured on her hair, “I’m sorry I said you were lying to me. But I—I know what secrets can do to a relationship.”

“I’m sorry too.” More than you can imagine. “But I can’t tell you,” she said quietly. “Not now.” Not ever.