Pandora's Box (47 page)

“Go away,” she repeated, elbowing his stomach feebly.
I feel terrible.

Never, my love.
“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” she nodded but the dizziness started again. Sophia was feeling so weird that she wanted to stay in a dark, cool room. “I promise, I’m okay.”
This is not a place for a newly wed husband.

Stubborn, aren’t you, Wife?
Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward and pulled her gently onto his chest.

He asked firmly, showing he was not going to leave her side, “Sophia, did you eat something different? Too spicy? Do you have a migraine? What is it that you’re feeling?”

Oh, screw it.
She leaned against him
, giving up her dislike of being seen sick.
“Don’t fret,” she whispered, not strong enough to do more than this. “I’ll be okay. Just don’t move for a minute. Everything is spinning.”

Battersea, Barclays London Heliport.

7.55 a.m.

“Are you sure, Sophia?” Alistair asked for the umpteenth time before he opened the helicopter’s door for her.

“Yes, Lord Overly-concerned. I don’t know what happened earlier but I’m feeling perfectly well. Besides, Munro and Zareb will take good care of me.” She smiled tenderly at him. “Come on, my love, I’m already late.”

Sophia was not pale anymore. After cleaning herself and taking a cold shower, she looked absolutely fresh, dressed in a light pink Chanel suit with beige Miu Miu accessories.

He helped her in and harnessed her to the seat. “Promise to call me if you feel anything.”

She raised two fingers and put a hand over her heart. “I promise.”

“Well, then.” He kissed her on the lips. “We’ll have lunch together.”

Sophia smiled, waved and blew him a kiss when he backed up without taking his eyes off her.

Alistair didn’t know why he was so worried. He watched the perfect take-off of the helicopter and went back to his BMW, thoughtful.
She does look great. There is no reason to be concerned.

He thanked Garrick and entered the car with his customary poker-face in place and started to check his emails and messages as he was driven to the bank headquarters.

The morning passed as if nothing had occurred, but deep inside, Alistair knew there was something wrong with his adored wife.

Dubai. In a dimly lit room.

Thursday, March 10
^th
, 2011.

1.39 a.m.

“How could you do that?” Ghost asked icily on the phone. “I’ll pay you more. I need that device functioning.”

Devon swallowed hard with guilt.

Sophia had done nothing to him and Alistair had been more than understanding when he had told his story and asked for a loan. He received an amount greater than he expected and a lifetime pension for his ex-lover. It was then that he realized how wrong he had been acting.

“I’m out. This has gone too far. Don’t call me anymore or I’ll go to the police.”

Ghost was used to working mostly alone, or exchanging information online with his Black-Hat hacker colleagues. He thought this plan would work the same way.

No one had taught him to be overly cautious when dealing with human beings. He was a cold person and didn’t care at all for other’s feelings; he thought others would behave accordingly.

Pushing down his disappointment and anger, he laughed. Devon had done a very bad thing by betraying him and now he was going to pay for it. “How is your handicapped son?”

The eerie laughter made cold goosebumps rise on the back of Devon’s neck and he franticly ended the call.

The line clicked dead and Ghost’s rage spiked, but it was in a calm voice that he announced to no one, “You’re a dead fool.”

He picked up a transparent globe that contained a hooded skull with two entwined snakes looking at him. It irked him that a man of his intellect had to depend so much on others for this project.

He didn’t want to be near London when the plan was put in motion, but as the snakes’ tongues seemed to flicker, he decided he should take matters into his own hands.

He bought a ticket back to London.

Leibowitz Oil Building.

Friday, March 11
^th
, 2011.

12.25 p.m.

Edward pushed the button on the intercom, calling Sophia. He drummed his fingers, waiting for her to reply.

“Yes?” came the soft answer.

“Love? I need a few minutes of your time,” he said, excited as his eyes scanned the last lines of the contract which needed her approval.

“Come on in,” she answered. “It’s unlocked.”

Edward pushed the door open and grinned when he realized Sophia was listening to Linkin’ Park. She had been transfixed by the group’s new song and had kept the album on repeat.

But Sophia was not seated behind her computer or anywhere else. His smile vanished from his face and he frowned. “Sophia?”

“Just a second, Edward.”

Sophia exited the bathroom and ungainly held on to the door frame to steady herself, but it slipped from her grasp.

“Sarah! SARAH!” Edward shouted at the top of his voice, lunging forward.

White as a sheet, Sophia collapsed into his arms.

Alistair hadn’t even waited for his car. Ordering MacKeenan to send Garrick to meet him there, he had run the few blocks that separated the bank headquarters from the Leibowitz Oil Building.

Sophia was already awake, but feeling dizzy and so weak she had not even protested when they placed her on the ambulance gurney.

The wide hall of the Leibowitz Oil building seemed to expand and shimmer around her as they pushed her out of the elevator.

For once she asked herself why she needed such a tall and long hall. Her hand clenched around Alistair’s. She wanted him to take her away, not inside an ambulance. She didn’t want to know what was plaguing her.

Marylebone, Devonshire Street,

The Harley Street Clinic of Diagnosis Centre.

1.37 p.m.

Alistair raked a hand through his long hair, pacing the corridor of the clinic in long strides, making eye contact with no one, not even with Edward, who had refused to leave before knowing the results of the exams.

The minutes were dragging by as he waited anxiously for her doctors or a nurse to come out with some news. The only thing her neurologist and her psychiatrist had said was that they needed two or three hours to examine her.

Fuck them all. Two or three hours!
Alistair huffed, as he leaned against the wall for a minute, scanning his cell phone, thinking hard about what else he could do.

He had already called her therapist, Tavish, and John. Their good friend said he would come by as soon as he could, and his brother was on his way. The therapist had yet to call back.

Sophia was afraid, he knew. Her eyes were dark and her cold hand kept squeezing his.

It took all of Alistair’s control to kiss her lightly on the lips and let her hand go, with an encouraging smile on his face as the nurses pushed her away through the sterile corridors. All he had wanted was to pick her up in his arms and take her away to their highland home.

I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.
Alistair only answered a few of his brother’s many questions. He sat heavily on a chair and said, “Nae, you have to ask Davidoff again. This is all I know.”

“He’s told me everything he knows too.”

“What is your opinion then?” Alistair looked up at his brother. Tavish had a weird look on his face.
What?
“You know something I don’t?”

“Nae. Anyway—”

The door opened and Alistair jumped up when he saw Dr. Colton signaling him to enter. He pulled the lapel of his brother’s suit and ordered, “Come with me.”

Following a frantic Alistair, Tavish mumbled, “Aye, sir.”

3.34 p.m.

Sophia was lying on the hospital bed, looking less pale, connected to an IV and two machines, which were driving her crazy with their beeping.

After so many tests and blood draws, waiting for someone to say something to her, she thought she was going to snap if another nurse entered the room to ask her more questions.

But the door opened to reveal Dr. Colton, her psychiatrist, and Dr. Merkel, her neurologist, coming in, followed by Alistair and Tavish. The fact that the doctors had brought not only her husband, but Tavish out of the waiting room couldn’t mean good news. She felt dread like a brick in her empty stomach.

Alistair immediately sat by her on the chair, grabbing her hands in his and warming them. Tavish, on the other side, kissed her forehead and said sweetly, “Hey, Sister-in-law. How are you feeling?”

“I guess I’ve been better,” she replied. She looked at her doctors and asked in a whisper, “So… what’s wrong with me?”

“We don’t have any conclusive results, Sophia,” explained Dr. Merkel, “so we are going to need more exams.”

“So far,” Dr. Colton explained, “it’s just your blood pressure giving you a hard time.”

She widened her darkened eyes. The word left her mouth with a hint of hysteria, “
Just?!”

“Aye,” Alistair was calm again. “Just that. It’s easily controlled—”

A knock on the door interrupted them and John walked in. Sophia almost sighed in relief. She had complete confidence in him.

But when he spoke with her doctors in a hushed voice and proposed more tests, she let out a long, audible breath of impatience.

4.27 p.m.

A grave John pushed on the door with an envelope in his hands, a troubled mind and a heavy heart. He didn’t know how he would give the news to the couple. He felt the burden of their eyes on him when he stopped in front of the bed. Knowing he had no choice, he said, “Alistair, Tavish, Mr. Davidoff, may I have a word alone with Sophia?”

“Is there something wrong?” Her heartbeat and breathing sped up.

Whatever it is, I’m here.
“Sophia.” Alistair’s deep, low murmur was soothing, and she gratefully accepted the comfort of his arm around her shoulders as he perched on the edge of the bed.

Edward immediately rose from his chair.

Tavish frowned, concerned. It was not the answer he was expecting, but his medical forming made him follow Edward. At the door, he said, “Come on, Alistair Connor. John has something important to tell her.” 

Sophia went dead cold as she felt Alistair shifting to get out of the bed. She closed her fingers around his wrist with such despair her nails dug in. “No. Wait! Stay with me.”

Alistair instantly sat back down and gently pulled her onto his chest. “What did you find out, John?”

The doctor thinned his lips, looking from Sophia to Alistair. Sternly, he demanded, “Alistair, could you please step out for just a second? This information is pertinent only to Sophia.”

Sophia searched for inner courage, and stated, “Whatever it is, John, you can tell us both.” 

“So be it.” John scratched his head. He wished Sophia had let Alistair go outside. “While not impossible, as I have tried to inform you from the very beginning— It was a likely event I would have predicted.” He stopped and faced them seriously. “I need both of you to be calm and listen to my explanation. All right?”

“Yes, okay.” Wrapped tightly in Alistair’s arms, she watched as John pulled out a sheet from an envelope.

“Well, to start with, I guess congratulations are in order, Sophia. You’re pregnant.”

Chapter 28

4.33 p.m.

Nae!
“What?!”
Alistair stood up from the bed as if Sophia had burned him. “What the fuck, Sophia? What. The. Fuck!”

He looked for what seemed an eternity at his dumbfounded and speechless wife waiting for an explanation. But as she said nothing, he whirled on his heels and left the room exactly when John had just started to talk, the buzzing in his ears such, he didn’t hear a word.

Banging closed the hospital room door, leaving the doctor to deal with Sophia, he tore down the corridor like a mad man. Alistair didn’t even notice his brother coming after him.

“Hey, hey. Where are you going? What’s wrong?”

He stopped as his brother’s big hand grabbed his arm. He looked at the younger, taller and more handsome version of himself and almost snarled.

I can’t assign blame yet. To her. Or to… Myself?!
Alistair chocked on his breath. Then he realized Tavish and Edward, along with both of her doctors, where waiting for the news.

All he wanted to do was go back and believe it was a mistake, however hope was an emotion he had trouble dealing with. It had always been accompanied by a great deception and a greater pain, which had lingered from one freshly inflicted wound to the next, dragging out his anger in ways he couldn’t contain.

But now, it was different.

His wounds had been cauterized and he didn’t want to allow the fierce ache, his jumbled thoughts and increasing doubt to open them again. He was disoriented, lost in the labyrinth of his own mixed emotions and he didn’t know anymore what to do.

Edward, regardless of their height and width difference, cornered him, demanding, “What’s happening, MacCraig? What did you do to her?”

“It’s not up for discussion.” He towered over Sophia’s blond friend who didn’t back away. “It’s a complicated story.”

“Always is, with you,” Tavish remarked.

Alistair shot his brother an annoyed look, but Tavish completely ignored it.

Turning to Sophia’s neurologist, Alistair asked if there was an empty room where he could talk with his brother privately for a few minutes.

Tavish leaned against the door of Dr. Merkel’s office and watched as Alistair paced away, then back again, not trusting himself to stand still, his fisted hands locked against his sides to avoid punching them against the wall.