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restaurant. “But...”
    “But?”
    “That not it, is it, Sophia?”
    No. It’s not. I need to remain hidden.
“What else could it be?”
    He stopped in front of the restaurant door and lifted her sunglasses to look into her eyes, “Why don’t you trust me with whatever secrets you are keeping?”
    She looked away and murmured, “There are no secrets, Alistair.”
    He gripped her chin in his hand and raised her face toward his, ordering, “Look at me.”
    Alistair Connor, you don’t want to discover my dark secrets.
And when she gazed into his eyes, her features were already composed.
    Alistair wondered what could such a young and innocent woman have done, to keep it buried so deep. “You know, Sophia, this mysterious aura around you... just makes you more enticing. I’ll uncover and solve whatever enigmas you’re hiding.”

Chapter 3
    Kensington. Kitchen W8.
     
    1.09 p.m.
    “Why do you insist on turning me into a hero? I’m no hero, Sophia.”
    She gave him a small smile, “A hero is a man who does the best he can. Nothing more.”
    Sophia, Sophia. I didn’t do the best I could. I’ve been evil for years.
“Hmm. All this just because I sent your daughter a doll?”
    “No,” she shook her head. “You really don’t get it. You care, Alistair Connor. Gabriela said she wanted the Corolle doll just once during our dinner yesterday. And you cared enough to remember and send it to her first thing this morning. With your personal card attached. And flowers. This, my dear, is so much more important than anything.”
    I... I care?
The way Sophia turned what he considered a simple gesture into a grandiose thing left Alistair discomfited and scared. He immediately repelled the good image she made of him, “You see good where there is none.”
    “And you see bad always and everywhere,” she retorted instantly. “Why you should have such a poor opinion of yourself eludes me.”
    It’s because I know who I am, Sophia.
“It’s not a bad opinion, just a fair one.”
    She frowned in thought, “I don’t remember who, but someone once said ... The mask, given time, comes to be the face itself.”
    “Marguerite Yourcenar,” he prompted.
    “Ah, yes.” She looked at him seriously, “Is that what you want to become, a heartless and callous man, a misogynist, who’ll live alone for the rest of his life? Just because you were hurt once?”
    Hurt once?
Alistair’s thin nostrils flared wide.
Careful, Sophia. Dangerous ground.
The echoes of his despicable, vengeful wife and the horror of his daughter’s broken body resonated in his mind, but Alistair was stunned to watch the memories through a lighter filter, their surfacing not poisoning him as they usually did.
    The approaching waiter interrupted their conversation. “Ma’am, sir, the fillet of cornish pollock.”
    “Thank you,” Sophia and Alistair said at the same time. She glanced at him and grinned at the coincidence as he squeezed her hand, his mood lightening in a second.
    “Mmm,” Sophia moaned, closing her eyes, “this smells very good.”
    “I knew you would like it here,” he glanced at her hand, admiring it with his gift on her finger. “Do you still have many friends in Brazil?”
    “I have very good friends in Brazil, but few. One doesn’t need many friends, just good ones. I’m a private person and...”
I need to hide, I can’t afford to make new friends.
    “And?”
    “I have my daughter, my family, my PhD, my work, my books. I barely have time for myself.”
    “Aye, you should work less, Sophia.” He paused and sipped his wine, musing, “I don’t know how you manage to do everything.” He put the glass on the table and counted on his right hand fingers, his plain white-gold Love ring catching the soft light. “Between your studies, your lectures, your foundation and Leibowitz’s problems, what time do you have for Gabriela?”
    “More than enough. The trick is being extremely organized, working only with top people and