Pandora's Box (50 page)

“Sophia, sweetheart, I’m home!” Alistair called happily, opening their bedroom door.

When no one answered, he threw the bags he was carrying on the bed and crossed the room directly to Sophia’s bathroom, concerned.

Sophia was sitting in a corner. Her forehead was pressed to her knees and she was breathing heavily.

“Hey,
mo chridhe
.” He crouched next to her, lifting her hair from her face. “How do you feel?”

“It’s disgusting.”

He had the audacity to laugh. “Come now, Sophia. I’m not going to be disgusted because my pregnant wife is tossing up her cookies.”

“No,” she wailed feebly. “I’m not throwing up. I’m nauseous and dizzy.”

“Aye, aye,” he soothed her and scooped her from the floor in his arms tenderly, careful not to jolt her so much. “Let me put you in bed and get you the other drug John prescribed. Where is it?”

“In the drawer of my bedside table. I swear this is your fault.” She moaned again and put her head on the curve of his shoulder, clinging to his neck, eyes closed.

“My fault?” His chest shook with silent mirth. “How?”

She fisted his hair and yanked it hard.

“Ow!” he complained. “What was this for?

“Hairy. I bet that this little warrior is going to be hairy.” She smiled wanly at him. “It’s said that hairy babies cause nausea.”

“It could always be a tiny hairy lady.” He placed her on the bed, finding the medicine on her drawer.

“Tiny? Your son?” She doubted, in a small voice as he roamed her fridge, taking out a bottle of water. “He’s going to be a huge Highland warrior.”

He helped her take her half pill of Phenergan with a small gulp of water. “It’s a little Sophia!”

She kept her eyes closed, waiting for the dizziness to pass. “Oh, shush!”

“Ah-ah! This is not the way to talk to your husband, Marchioness. Behave or I won’t give you the presents I’ve bought.”

Her brows twisted in confusion as she opened her eyes to look around. “What is all this?”

In different size and colors, there were more than twenty bags scattered on the bed.

“I put Malcolm and Berkley to work a bit this afternoon. They’re getting lazy.” Alistair grinned in a lopsided way. “Then… I hit the shops.”

“You… hit the shops?” she repeated dumfounded and motioned with her fingers for him to give her one of the bags.
He hates shopping.

“Now I know why you women buy thousands of articles for you and babies. There are a million different things that are needed. A million different products to be bought. In a million different sizes and colors.” He was smiling happily. He settled her more comfortably on the bed, putting two pillows behind her back. He circled the bed and propped on the other side, opening a bag. “It took me the whole afternoon. This is for you to carry the baby’s things.” From a Louis Vuitton brown bag and box, he produced a navy bag for baby products.

“That’s beautiful, thank you.”

“A kind woman helped me and I bought a quick guide so I could figure everything out, but I still wasn’t sure. So, I also bought a book.” He made a face and showed her a copy of
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
.

“You bought a guide and a book…” Her eyes twinkled with laughter. She couldn’t hide the amused twist of her lips. “I see. You have been very busy, Handsome.”

Alistair’s smile faded. He looked at her for a long while. “What’s so funny? I think I deserve to choose some of my daughter’s clothes.”

“Son,” she reaffirmed and then looked to the other side of the bed, her eyes going round. “Am I giving birth to an army?”

“Not an army,” Alistair crooned. “But, yes, I want many, many children.”

“Oh, God,” Sophia moaned weakly and helplessly. “Really? How many children do you want?”

“Eleven. A football team,” he teased.

“Can we think about the next one after this one is born?” she asked, smiling lovingly at him.

“Mmmm.” Her big husband actually pouted.

Sophia giggled. “I can promise one more, my lord.”

“Twins,” he affirmed. “I want twins.”

“Alistair Connor!” Her lips curled up. “How am I supposed to have twins? Am I a witch? What is the spell which creates them?”

“You have twin sisters. Tavish had a twin, but he was stillborn. Wouldn’t it be nice?”

Sophia faked a shudder. “Can you imagine the size I would be? And, of course, I would have to have another plastic surgery for my breasts.”

He palmed her breasts, softly and gently, not touching her sore nipples. His eyes flashed green flames. “I like the idea even more now. We could go bigger.”

Pervert!!
She smiled. “I’ll think about that.”

“Great! Now, I read the back of the boxes, and I consulted the guides, but - Christ, Sophia! - there are so many different pacifiers and bottles. My mother bought Nathalie’s trousseau, so I didn’t remember the brands very well.”

“My love, I’ll nurse the baby. We won’t need pacifiers or bottles for at least six months.”

“Nae?”

She shook her head slowly, “No.”

Ah, of course.
“Then, I think I got these right,” he informed her. Heating and breast pads, lotion for sore nipples and a nursing pillow.

She watched, fascinated, as he started emptying the bags.

“Since she is going to be born at the end of autumn, I bought smaller warmer clothes and bigger lighter ones.” From the other bags, out came the clothes, from tiny Hermès suede shoes, to beautiful Dior dresses, including comfortable and practical jammies, T-shirts and onesies, leggings, mittens, hats, socks, booties and winter coats in different colors and sizes.

Alistair Connor, you’re so crazily sweet.
“Of course,
he
will need smaller warmer clothes. Your father would go crazy if I don’t spend December and January in the Highlands.”

“She— He—” He stopped and ran his fingers in his hair, confused. “What do you prefer? A daughter or a son?”

Oh, my love, you’re such a dear.
“It doesn’t matter the sex as long as it’s born healthy.” Just to tease him she said, “Anyway, it’s a boy.”

“Then I have to start thinking of boys names. Perhaps, I should exchange this beautiful dress, and a few of the pink clothes for light green and yellow ones.”

Eyes wide, Sophia gasped when Alistair emptied another bag on the bed. Talking excitedly, he put the clothes on her lap, “Of course, I bought a few outfits for you. I didn’t know your size exactly, so I tried on one of those cushions—”

What?!
“You did what?!”

Oh, fuck.
He flushed as he had never done before. “Well, you know… They have those cushions to see how big your belly—”
I want to know how it’s going to be.

Sophia lost it. She couldn’t imagine that big husband of hers trying on a pregnancy belly. Her giggles escalated to a laugh only to be stopped by renewed dizziness.

Alistair growled, “You’re going to be sick.”

Sophia breathed deep a few times and pushed the nausea away. “I can’t imagine the sales clerks’ surprise.”

“I’m trying to be supportive here.”

I know, meu amor, I know.
“It’s just that you bought almost everything the baby will need for a year, minus the diapers.”

“Oh, nae. We still need to get the stroller, the baby kangaroo or whatever it’s called, decorate the nursery. Hmm… What else?” He picked up his guide and looked at the list, which he had crossed items and marked others.

Oh, he is nervous.
She sat gingerly on the bed and put her finger over his lips, just as he would restart his unremitting listing. “Slow down, Husband. I had Gabriela and did it with ease. I’ve even kept a few of her loveliest things. Seriously, we can do this together and bit by bit. Let’s wait to know the baby’s sex.”

All right.
“I think I got overexcited,” he conceded.
And anxious.

“That’s really very sweet of you, Lord Caveman,” she kissed her lips.

“There is one more thing.” He pulled out a box from Graff from his inner breast pocket. “This is a small token.”

“Oh, Alistair Connor, you shouldn’t—”

He interrupted her protesting. “I can never fully express my deep gratitude for your staying by my side during all these months; I know they have been harsh. For showing me how positive thinking, being proactive instead of reactive, lack of resentment and real unselfish love are character habits that can be relearned.”

“You’re not indebted to me, Alistair Connor.”
Never! I did all that because I love you.

“Indebted? Nae. In love.” He opened the box and took out a ten carat, flawless white, heart cut diamond suspended by a thin and delicate platinum chain. “This has never belonged to anyone. It’s a renewing of my vows to you. I’m once again giving my heart back to you, because you, Sophia MacCraig, my beloved wife, made me the happiest of the men; made my inner sun come out to shine; your gentle support helped me blow away the dark clouds that shadowed my life. You made me grow and helped me cope more easily with the tragedies I experienced in life.” His eyes misted as did hers. He lifted her hair and fastened the necklace. Carefully, he pulled her into his arms. “You made me believe in miracles, in magic, and, most importantly of all, in trust, love and life. I love you so much, Sophia, that but for Nathalie’s, all the feelings and emotions I had before were evanescent; my heart was just waiting for you to arrive to start beating and to recognize happiness is to be cared for, and it’ll be forever lasting.”

London. In a dimly lit room.

4.42 p.m.

Ghost turned on the screen to the secret camera he installed in Uó’s suite and shook his head. The man was having sex with a woman instead of studying the plans.

Intelligence could never be replaced by brutal strength and animalistic behavior, but now, he would have to find a way to combine the two.

“This will never succeed,” Ghost murmured. He turned the screen off, disgusted.

A few minutes after, Uó called Alberto and him. Ghost linked the calls and turned the camera on again. He didn’t waste time and started the conversation. He hadn’t liked the last one he had with Uó, when the thin man informed him he had new plans and would not follow his anymore.

“This was supposed to be a simple kidnapping: hide the victim drugged for a month or so, while I bought the diamonds with the ransom money and fled. The victim would find her way back home. One way or another. Neat and clean.”

Alberto translated, Uó answered and he translated again, “Neat and clean? Either this is a fucking kidnapping or it’s not. You in, man?”

When Ghost hesitated a bit, Uó started to shout at Alberto what Ghost could guess were curses and threats. He quickly answered, “Yes, yes, I’m in.”

The raucous laughter of the criminal left Ghost cold. “What did he say?”

“That we’re good,” was Alberto’s translation of Uó’s reply. “That you should remember, that you fucking contacted and brought him here. Once inside, you only leave dead.”

Chapter 30

Ashford Steel Industries.

4.31 p.m.

Ethan walked to his red Ferrari, absentmindedly acknowledging his employees.

He had involved himself with Sophia’s charity work more and more, until he started to work with the children in her foundation.

His businesses were growing more each day.

Not completely suffocated anymore by the chain of shame and hurt that had been sowed into him, Ethan felt free to let his enthusiasm show and he was sure that eventually he would learn to completely open to love again.

Ethan thought of all the times in his life when he had chosen to retreat to his dark rooms instead of facing reality. He had a particularly intense therapy session during his lunch hour and it had left him moved and feeling strangely lonely.

How many people have my selfish acts harmed? Even if intentionally or accidentally, deservedly or unfairly.

He wondered if Barbara deserved a bigger reward, if Scott deserved another chance, if he would find a new woman with whom he could share his life.
There are too many ifs in my life.

And he remembered Sophia’s words:
Because, you as any other human being, are lovable, Ethan. But you have to be the first one to love yourself.
He understood that instead of trying to solve others’ problems, he should start with his.
If I can be healed and my paranoia is fixed, I can achieve so much more.

“Ethan Ashford, you have but one life to live. What are you going to do with it?” he mumbled to himself as he started the car. Pressing the gas pedal, Ethan decided he would live and enjoy his life the best he could. His voice sounded firm inside the car. “I’ll make a difference.”

I need a clean slate. I have to right my wrongs, before finding someone new.
He called Scott.

“Mr. Ashford?”

“Scott, could you please text me Barbara’s address?”

The red Ferrari lost itself in London’s chaotic traffic.

Kingston-upon-Thames. Barbara’s mother’s house.

7.03 p.m.

Her heart stopped as she heard the deep rumble of the potent motor. Barbara grabbed onto the edge of the sink and forced herself to take a deep breath.

She tried to remember the technique her theater teacher had taught her to relax before entering the stage.

“Take a deep breath,” she muttered, as she filled her lungs and tried to exhale slowly, only to have it leave her in a rush. “Count to five. One…”

By the window, she could see the man who had been her employer, her lover and who was her true love, closing the door of his car.

He was the epitome of male beauty, taste and elegance, wearing a tailored dark-gray suit, starched white shirt and a vivid-red tie. His sun-touched brown hair was combed back, showing his high forehead, his gorgeous azure eyes, chiseled cheekbones and full mouth. His measured strides highlighted the graceful balance of his solid body.

She remembered she was supposed to be counting, not admiring Ethan. “Two.”