Felipe knocked on the white wooden door and opened it. Sophia was curled up on a queen size bed, surrounded by a mountain of light yellow, orange, and pink silk cushions, holding one to her chest, softly crying.

“Go away,” she sobbed, not even turning to see who was at the door. “Leave me alone.”

“Hey, Sis,” Felipe murmured and approached the bed. “There is no need for this.”

“There is no need for this,” she parroted, angry.

The men stopped in the middle of the beautiful and feminine room when she spun to look at them.

“No. There never is, is there?” She sat crossed legged on the flower-printed silk cover and wiped her tears away, heaving. “I’m so tired of this crap, Felipe. Everyday someone wants to redirect my life without asking me how I feel about it. Do you think it’s easy to live in a different country all alone with a small daughter? Do you?” she asked both men. “I had everything a woman could want. I was loved, pampered, had a blooming career and a beautiful, perfect family. In less than three months, I lost everything. Even my memories. My in-laws killed my husband, drugged me, declared me insane, stole my daughter and who knows what else. I lost everything that was dear to me. I had to reinvent myself and start anew, had to fight to protect Gabriela. She was barely two years old, for God’s sake. A baby.” The tears began to fall again as she whispered, “A fatherless baby. Do you think my wealth makes up for anything? It doesn’t!” She slashed her hand in the air. Her brown troubled eyes searched Alistair’s gaze. “You should have talked to me first. Asked my opinion. Don’t try to use Gabriela against me. I know what’s best for me, for both of us.”

Christ! “I didn’t—” Alistair started to say.

She interrupted brusquely. “I thought we were building a new life. Together,” she stressed the word. “I need some space to re-adapt. Don’t push me off a cliff. I need roots again. I have Gabriela to think of. She is my daughter, my responsibility which I cannot overlook. How dare you talk with her first?”

Alistair opened his mouth to speak again and she lifted a finger, stopping him.

“She is my daughter. Mine. I will not lose her again,” she flung at Alistair, who paled, and whipped her head to stare hard at Felipe. “Having a child is bigger than anything you can imagine. I can’t afford to be carefree again and to do things hastily. Never again.” She rubbed her eyes, forlornly. “And what if anything happens this time round? It is so hard to want something when I’ve learned that fate can take away what I value most, like that,” she snapped her fingers. Rising from the bed, she stood in front of the window, looking at her reflection, her back to the men. “Sometimes I feel so ancient. And to think I’m only twenty-five.” She touched her scarred arm and sobbed; her head dropped and shoulders hunched inward. “I envied Carol today, you know? An ugly feeling. I wish I could be sixteen again.” She hugged her middle and sagged. “Sometimes…I wish I were dead.”

The tears that were threatening to fall from Felipe’s eyes spilled and he left the room silently.

In two strides, Alistair was at Sophia’s back, winding her to his chest and folding her in his arms. “Don’t. Don’t,” he breathed on her hair. Shaking his head at her, as if she were an insolent child, he commanded, “You should not say such things, even in jest.”

She rested her head on his chest and let out a shuddering sigh.

“I love you so much I cannot imagine my life without you, mo gràdh.” He heard Felipe shut the door quietly. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to waste time away from you. If you want a small wedding, I won’t fight over it. But I can’t wait.”

Sophia breathed in his scent. Sublimely Alistair Connor. “It’ll be as you wish.” Her voice came out muffled by his cotton shirt. “Don’t do that again. I am a private person, I don’t discuss my life in public.”

“We were not in public, Sophia. They are your family.”

“Doesn’t matter. You should have talked to me first. Alone. Just the two of us.” She lifted her eyes to look at him. Her long lashes were spiked from her tears. “It was not your decision to make, it’s ours. Don’t mistake indulgence for weakness. I won’t be a puppet in anyone’s hands. I won’t be tamed.”

“I got carried away in the excitement.” He held her hand in his and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Please, forgive me.”

She gave him a wan smile. “I’m sorry too. I’m a little finicky today.”

Mo chridhe, mo gràdh, mo bheatha. He rested his forehead on hers, “You’re my heart, my love, my life. Tha gaol agam ort.”

“I love you too.” She stood on tiptoes to kiss him and hugged him for a few minutes.

“Let me wash my face, so we can return to our dinner.” She pushed aside a mirrored pane and the bathroom was revealed. “Grandma won’t let me have dessert if I don’t eat properly.”

“No dessert? Nae, nae. That can’t happen,” he protested and winked at her.

“Alistair Connor,” she grinned at him, “you’re impossible.” And walked into the bathroom.

And you’re the most beautiful, mercurial woman I’ve ever known. He followed, incapable of staying away from her.

He watched as she washed her face and brushed her long black hair.

The mere thought that he could lose her made him step behind her and put his hands on her waist.

Her soft body leaned onto his and she looked at him in the mirror.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her closer. He buried his face in her hair and drank in the fresh scent of her, “I love you so much.”

She tipped her head sideways and up, inviting him, and instantly Alistair’s mouth was devouring her lips. Hard, hot and fraught with memories: the first time they met, their first kiss, their first night together. He flexed his hips on her buttocks, his hold on her tightening.

“Ah-ahem,” a voice came from behind them.

Alistair and Sophia hastily sprang apart.

“God, Felipe!” she exclaimed, blushing.

“I knocked. You didn’t answer since you were…otherwise occupied,” retorted Felipe, amused. “Come on, Sophia. Grandma’s waiting.”

When Sophia walked past Felipe, he looked over his shoulder to his future brother-in-law, and whispered in a conspiratorial way, “Dude, you don’t know what you’ve got yourself into.”

* * *

Despite the cool weather, the water was warm. When Sophia surfaced after diving, she found Alistair perched on his haunches at the edge of the pool, rolling ice cubes in his glass, looking at it with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What?”

“I—” He stretched out his hand. “I want to talk to you.”

You’re a piece of work. “Now? That I’m inside?” Sophia looked up and ordered, pointing down at the water, “You come down here.”

Oh, Sophia. Giving me orders? “Or what?” A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. He stood up and gave his back to her, walking to a spacious reclining chair. He sat down and wiggled his fingers at her.

“I’m all wet,” she pouted, but in the end got out of the pool, shivering from the contrast of the warm water and the cool night air.

“Cold?” he asked, and moved so she could nestle against his body and cover herself with a terry cloth robe.

“No. I like this cool weather. We usually only get it in July or August.” She put a leg over his and nestled comfortably on his chest.

“You feel so good, Beauty.” He kissed her forehead and blurted out a question that had never left his mind, “Why did you forgive me when I assaulted you?”

Oh, what! She closed her eyes briefly. She had avoided thinking about it since that fateful night. She breathed in loudly and straddled him. “What are you looking for? My personal reasons or my professional point of view, as a lawyer?”

He blinked at the determination that shimmered in her eyes. He gently pushed back her wet hair from her face. “Both, I guess.”

She bit her lip, uncertain of how to voice her feelings, but she knew he was right. They had to work it out. “This is the last time I’m talking about this issue, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

She rose and fetched the bottle of whisky, pouring a drink for herself as she arranged her thoughts. She sat on the edge of the reclining chair, facing him. “Very well. Let me start by outlining and analyzing the facts. Women that love and live with violent partners usually return to the relationship several times before they leave it,” she paused, but there was no possibility of making light of reality, “permanently damaged, physically and psychologically. Or are killed.”

Alistair winced, shocked, before he composed himself again.

“That’s what happens if they remain in a violent relationship against all common sense. The woman, or the man, as they can also be the victims, remembers the good times and somehow dismisses the bad. And believes in the promises made after the violent event, like,” she made quotes in the air, “‘I’m sorry. I’ll never hurt you again’ or ‘I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry’. The offender is always sorry, until the next time. The pattern starts again, but often the victim doesn’t realize that they’re repeating the cycle of violence.”

The soft-yellow light from the two wall lamps illuminated his rugged face, his sculpted chest and his lean, muscled abdomen. In spite of his nonchalant poise, she could feel his strained emotions. You asked, my dear.

“How—”

She raised her finger. “Let me finish, please,” or I won’t get this out. “So, this is—more or less—how a cycle of violence works: Normally, there is a period of build-up. Tension between partners increases, the abuser starts to get angry and communication is difficult. The victims-to-be find themselves walking on eggshells. Then comes the incident—or explosion as I like to call it—when the violence takes place. It can be psychological, verbal, physical or sexual. Next follows the making-up—or, as I prefer, the false-remorse phase—when the offender promises to never be violent again; that it wasn’t like that; that the victim provoked it, was to blame too, and so on. The victim feels relief, thinking that the violence has ended. Next is the honeymoon phase. The victim becomes meek and thinks about her actions and reactions around the partner. The abuser will shower the victim with gifts and tender demonstrations. The partners are in denial as to how bad the abuse and violence was. It’s then that the possibility that violence could occur again is totally ignored, because they don’t want their love to be tainted by it. They don’t want to lose respect and admiration for their partner.” Her lips curled in a grimace. “Unfortunately this never lasts, and the cycle begins again, escalating and becoming more frequent over time. Until a final, tragic break up or ultimately, the death of the victim.”

What about your feelings? “You really seem to know a great deal about this. But—”

“Aren’t we impatient today?” She interrupted him with a ghost of a smile. “You wouldn’t last a day in my class. I just stopped to breathe and organize my thoughts.”

He grinned. “Are you a very strict teacher, Beauty?”

“I keep a paddle on my desk for misfits.” She flashed him a mischievous smile.

He laughed. “A dominatrix in Cambridge!”

God! Why does everyone keep calling me that? She shook her head at him with an amused expression. “Well, back to the subject. Abusers have even lower self-esteem than the victim and like to control the partner.” Like Ethan, for example. The thought robbed her of her next lines. “Hmm…right. The abuser will use, in a twisted way, the partner’s feelings to dominate and control. The verbal or physical abuse is used with one purpose and one purpose only: to gain and maintain complete control over the victim, who is the abuser’s supposed love.” You’re stalling Sophia. Face it. “What you did…” She tilted her head to the side examining his poker-face. “Ready for it?”

Nae. I’ll never be, but we need to clean the slate.

As he nodded, she exhaled loudly and said, “What you did qualifies as assault and domestic abuse. However, you don’t fit the characteristics of a classic domestic offender. Not that I think that the violence wasn’t your fault. It was. If I took the blame for what you did, I’d be saying that you can’t control yourself and that you aren’t responsible or accountable for your behavior. Then you would belong in a psychiatric ward.” She smiled at that and his lips curled up, but not quite in a smile. “This excuse would never stand up in court and I won’t fool myself and buy it either. You do have a conflict with your self-esteem. You swing from high to low, but I would say you veer toward high. Most perpetrators of domestic violence have…double personalities. They’re not violent outside their homes or toward people other than their partners. They threaten and abuse only their partners. You…” You are a total domineering control freak. A charmer. She smiled at him, amused at her wayward thoughts.

“What is so funny?” he asked intrigued.

“You, Alistair Connor,” she poked his chest, “on the other hand, you have a steady mercurial behavior, a charming way of domineering. And you do this with Leo, your sister, your brother, your father. And me. I can only imagine the way you order your employees around.”

He forced a smiled. “So. I’m damned.”

“Not yet,” she joked. “You’re jealous and possessive, but you don’t suffocate me. You let me express my opinions, and even though you may disagree with them, you don’t belittle or criticize me. You don’t frighten me with your words or acts. Sometimes…you are a bit overwhelming, but in a good way. It’s your personality. What is most important: I don’t need to think about what I’m going to do or say when I’m around you. I can act naturally and carefree.”

“Sophia.” He shook his head at her with an amused smile on his lips. “You always do the right thing. You’re perfect in your spontaneous way. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

“See?” She smiled back at his praise. “There is a thin line between an alpha male and an abuser. And you don’t cross it. Another crucial fact that shows you don’t qualify as a classic abuser is that you didn’t try to negate the violence. You didn’t blame me or try to diminish what happened. On the contrary, you were clearly distressed and blamed yourself. You…there’s a clear…”

As she searched for words to justify his act her face turned suddenly serious. Alistair became worried. “Beauty?”

“I’m not a psychoanalyst and I have no experience in it other than my own, but I’d say that…there’s a…not exactly a violent streak…”

She bit her lip, thinking for a moment, and although Alistair wanted to kiss her, he restrained his impulses. Until now, Sophia had maintained a light tone in her voice, but something had changed. He could sense she was serious and a bit sad.

“You, Alistair Connor, you exert strict control over your more aggressive impulses. Impulses that everyone has, not only you. And that night…that night you lost it.” A self-deprecating smile came over her features. “I was so quick to condemn the same behavior in the cases I worked on. I always had prompt advice to give, like ‘If you value yourself and your life you’ll stay away from him.’ Funny, isn’t it? I needed to go through an experience to understand how difficult this situation is. So very difficult,” her voice waned.

Stop. Stop! I don’t want to hear anymore. “I’m so sorry.” He grimaced. Watching her talk about statistics and facts hadn’t bothered him, but as he watched her face fall from belittling herself, part of him just wanted to run. The other part wanted to grab her and spend the rest of their lives loving her and proving to her he would never act like that again.

She scooted closer to him and combed his silk locks off his forehead. “Finally, to answer your question, why I forgave you and why I considered maintaining a relationship with a man who was so violent toward me.” She drank the rest of the whisky and put the glass on the floor, her hand returning to his hair. “It’s hard to explain my reasons because I’m involved. I’m partial. Was it wrong? Yes, it was. However, we all make mistakes. And…the most important reason or,” she raised her eyebrow at him, “the most unreasonable reason is that you, my Lord of Distrustful-pre-historic-land, you’d already entered my heart at that time. I had to give us a chance to see where it would lead us.” She cupped his face and whispered fiercely on his lips, before taking his mouth in a kiss, “I love you. And I’ll make you the happiest man alive.”

He grabbed her by the waist, flipped her over his body and rolled her onto her back, opening the robe. With a dark smile on his face, he fished an ice cube from his glass and traced a path along her bikini strap and up to her neck.

She arched on the reclining chair and complained, “It’s cold.”

Alistair settled his big body over hers and whispered on her mouth, “Then let me warm you.”

“Are you crazy?” Sophia’s eyes widened. “We’re going to get arrested for indecent exposure.”

“Nae. I put the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the handle. And Zareb is down the hall. No one is going to get by him,” he said, as he moved the ice over her lips. To and fro. Slowly. She opened them and tasted the scotch with the tip of her tongue.

“Crazy man,” Sophia moaned as his mouth and tongue followed the ice cube conquering her mouth in a long, hot kiss.

“For you,” he breathed as he kissed his way down her neck and collarbones.

“Ah!” Goosebumps coated her skin and her nipples hardened under the wet bikini as he circled them with the ice cube and his tongue traced the contour of her bikini top. She pushed the small triangles away, liberating the puckered nipples to his hot and greedy mouth.

“I’ll never again drink scotch without thinking of this,” he rasped as he picked up his glass and bathed her with the liquid, holding the ice cubes with his fingers. “Never,” he whispered on her breast as he licked it with long and slow strokes of his tongue. “What do you want?”

Sophia shoved her fingers in his hair and pulled his head down to her breast, but he resisted.

“Say it, Sophia. I want to hear you.”

She wound her legs around his hips, pressing up against his arousal. “You. I want you.”

“Ah-ah.” He moved against her and his tongue flicked over the hard nipple. “Tell me. Be explicit, be dirty.”

Fuck me. She pulled hard at his hair, yanking his head up.

When he stared into her eyes and tsked, she hissed in staccato, “Suck. My. Tits.”

Yeah! Almost there. “Nice.” His sardonic smile broadened and his eyes flashed as he tsked again and pinched her nipple lightly. “You forgot the magic word.”

You bastard. She groaned, “Please.”

He laughed low, a pleased rumble that reverberated throughout Sophia’s body. “Next time, try to put some meaning into it,” he said, just before his lips sucked a nipple into his mouth, making her moan loudly.

“Yes! Please!” Her fingers dug into his scalp and she lifted her hips, rubbing against his hard on.

That’s it. Blindly, his fingers groped inside the glass taking another ice cube. He swirled it over the neglected nipple before transferring his mouth to it.

Sophia felt disconnected. All she could do was feel the cold path of the ice and the following hot trail of his mouth and tongue gliding down her belly, rimming the bikini line and down her legs, creating havoc on her senses.

She untied the bikini bottom, baring herself to him, but he completed ignored it, nibbling his way down her right thigh and then up her left.

He raised his head and smiled darkly at her, just before he brushed the ice cube on her clitoris followed by a pressured circle of his hot tongue.

Sophia screamed and his laughter was smothered by her skin.

“Scream louder and Zareb will be here in a second,” he murmured, and lapped and nibbled at her until she was squirming under his talented mouth. “You are soaking wet.”

Unexpectedly, she sat back on the chair, bent her torso and pushed her nose on his face. “Stop torturing me and make me come.” She took his mouth in a bruising brief kiss that showed her desperation. Lying down again she shoved his face down between her thighs. “Now. NOW!”

He laughed again and his muffled voice had an inescapable note of authority in the only word he said, “Ask.”

“Please,” she didn’t ask. She demanded.

“Please, what?” He raised his lids enough for her to see his flaming green eyes as he lapped softly at her clitoris and brushed his fingers around her slit.

Fuck me, Alistair Connor. “Tongue me. Finger me. Fuck. Me.” Sophia felt his warm breath against her tender flesh as one finger plunged inside her. Then two. Stroking, filling her.

One loud moan after another left her mouth as he continued to lick and fondle, his tongue exerting firmer pressure, his fingers plunging in faster.

He unrelentingly stoked her desire higher and higher until a hard and fast orgasm exploded inside her.

She bit her lip to avoid screaming, but a strangled sound left her mouth anyway as he continued to suck and probe her with his fingers, giving her no time to recover from the climax.

Alistair felt her body start to tremble again and he pushed himself over her. His eyes held her still as no bondage ever could, in a hungry, wolfish stare, consuming her as he made his way into her body.

“Alistair,” she gasped, and her nails dug into his biceps, “I love you.”

He slammed into her to the hilt and closed his eyes, holding still over her, with his head thrown back, reveling in the words and the tight feeling of her body gripping his. “Say. It. Again.”

The gorgeous sight of his neck and chest muscles and the stretching feeling of his invasion made her moan with pleasure. Her hands were shaking when she cupped his face and made him look at her.

“I love you,” she breathed on his mouth before kissing him and lifting her hips, demanding fulfillment. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her fingernails into his shoulders as he thrust, gathering her in his arms so close to his body that there wasn’t any space between them.

“Love me,” she whispered, “I’m yours.”

“Yes. You’re mine,” he breathed against her ear, taking her lobe in his mouth as he moved his hips slowly. Pounding and circling. Kindling her fire.

“Now,” she commanded as the edge drew nearer. “I’m—”

“Nae. Not yet,” he groaned against her neck, nibbling it as he hammered deeper and faster as if he wanted to bury himself in her. “Wait for me.”

She spurred her feet on his buttocks, flexing her hips up, biting his neck as she spasmed around him, throwing him over the edge.

A lustful groan came through his clenched teeth as he pushed inside her, again and again, not wishing it to finish, not wanting to let go, holding onto her as if she were his lifeline.

“Again. Don’t stop,” he heaved, desperate, “again.”

His primal cry crashed through her last locked door and filled her with a savage need. She breathed in his masculine scent and raked her nails on his back, feeling his throbbing desire rippling through his muscles. She bit his earlobe, struggling to keep another orgasm at bay as she felt herself becoming hotter.

Waiting for him, she tightened and loosened in a rapid crescendo around his arousal, pulsing and sending raw energy through his spine, before bucking her hips up as her fingers pushed his buttocks down, forcing him even deeper, “Come. For me.”

His hoarse shout filled the night as he let his desire consume him in a blazing fire and burst radiantly through her in a dizzying climax, an unrivaled force that robbed her of all senses and intelligible thoughts.

* * *

The warm water and a large hand roaming over her waist and hip, brought Sophia back to earth. Alistair was holding her in his arms inside the black marble pool. When her eyes fluttered open, she saw Alistair’s smiling eyes gazing at her with so much love inside them that she sighed aloud.

“You are certifiable,” she murmured, putting her head on his shoulder.

“Aye,” he whispered to her, tightening his arms around her. “Since you said you love me, the last of the sanity I had flew away.”

“You’re debauching me. I have never done anything so…uh—”

His smile darkened and a proprietary glint shone inside his eyes. His mouth trailed a warm path on her neck, making her moan.

“Exposed? Dangerous? Fulfilling?” he asked, in between nibbles from her neck to her ear, ending on her bottom lip as the hand behind her knees moved to caress her intimately. He swirled in the water and pressed her against the pool wall, wolfishly smiling down at her and surveying her naked body. “Want to do it again?”

Her breath vanished when hot desire pooled between her thighs. “You are going to kill me.”

“With love, I hope,” he breathed, as he started the sweet torture all over.