This was the kind of desire he’d missed for so long.

Urgent and hot. Utterly compelling. As if he couldn’t envisage getting off this plane and not taking Sidonie with him so that he could taste her all over.

‘Er … excuse me, Mr Christakos?’

He looked up and there she was. Just like that any semblance of clear-headedness was gone and he was reduced to animal lust again. He had to get up and let her back in, cursing his body which would not obey his head.

One thing he was sure of as she brushed past him in the small space and her scent tantalised him: he wanted this Sidonie Fitzgerald with a hunger he’d not known before. And he would have her. Because Alexio Christakos always got what he wanted.

BLOOD BROTHERS

Power and passion run in their veins

Rafaele and Alexio have learned that to feel emotion is to be weak. Calculated ruthlessness brings them immense success in the boardroom and in the bedroom. But a storm is coming with the sudden appearance of a long-lost half-brother, Cesar, and three women who will change their lives for ever …

Read Rafaele Falcone’s story in:

WHEN FALCONE’S WORLD STOPS TURNING

February 2014

Only one woman has come close to touching this brooding Italian’s cold heart, and he intends to have her once more. But Samantha Rourke has a secret that will rock his world in a very different way …

Read Alexio Christakos’s story in:

WHEN CHRISTAKOS MEETS HIS MATCH

April 2014

His legendary Greek charm can get him any woman he wants—and he wants Sidonie Fitzgerald for one, hot night. But when that night isn’t enough will he regret breaking his own rules?

And read Cesar Da Silva’s story in:

WHEN DA SILVA BREAKS THE RULES

June 2014

The prodigal son is tormented by his dark past.

Can one woman save this Spanish billionaire’s tortured soul, or is he beyond redemption?

When Christakos Meets His Match

Abby Green

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABBY GREEN spent her teens reading Mills and Boon® romances. After repeatedly deferring a degree to study Social Anthropology (long story …) she ended up working for many years in the film and TV Industry as an assistant director.

One day, while standing outside an actor’s trailer, waiting for him to emerge, in the rain, holding an umbrella in gale force winds, she thought to herself, Surely there’s more than this—and it involves being inside and dry?

Thinking of her love for Mills and Boon, and encouraged by a friend, Abby decided to submit a partial manuscript. After numerous rewrites, chucking out the original idea and starting again with a new story, her first book was accepted and an author was born.

She is happy to report that days of standing in the rain outside an actor’s trailer are a rare occurrence now. She loves creating stories that will put you through an emotional wringer (in a good way, hopefully), yet leave you feeling satisfied and uplifted.

She lives in Dublin, Ireland, and you can find out more about her and her books here: www.abby-green.com

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EXTRACT

PROLOGUE

ALEXIO CHRISTAKOS HAD always known his mother had had affairs all through her marriage to his father. He just hadn’t expected to see such a public display of it at her funeral. Her coffin was strewn with lone flowers and there were displays of wet eyes from a handful of men he’d never met before in his life.

His father had stomped away with a glower on his face a short while before. He couldn’t exactly claim the moral high ground as he too had had numerous affairs.

It had been a constant war of attrition between them. His father always seeking to make his mother as jealous as he felt. And she...? Alexio had the feeling that nothing would have ever made her truly happy, even though she had lived her life in the lap of luxury, surrounded by people to cater to her every whim.

She’d had a sadness, a deep melancholy about her, and they’d never been emotionally close. A vivid memory assailed him at that moment—a memory he hadn’t allowed to surface for a long time. He’d been about nine, and his throat had ached with the effort it had taken not to cry. He’d just witnessed his parents having a bitter row.

His mother had caught him standing behind the door and he’d blurted out, ‘Why do you hate each other so much? Why can’t you be in love like you’re supposed to be?’

She’d looked at him coldly and the lack of emotion in her eyes had made him shiver. She’d bent down to his level and taken his chin in her hand. ‘Love’s a fairytale, Alexio, and it doesn’t exist. Remember this: I married your father because he could give me what I needed. That’s what is important. Success. Security. Power. Don’t ever concern yourself with emotions. They make you weak. Especially love.’

Alexio would never forget the excoriating feeling of exposure and shame in that moment...

He felt a hand on his shoulder then and looked to his older half-brother, Rafaele, who stood beside him and smiled tightly. They’d always shared the same conflicted relationship with their mother. Rafaele’s Italian father had gone to pieces after their mother had walked out on him when he had lost his entire fortune—an unpalatable reminder of their mother’s ruthless nature so soon after that disturbing childhood memory of his own.

For years Alexio and his brother had communicated with habitual boyish rough-housing and rivalry, but since Rafaele had left home to make his way when Alexio had been about fourteen their relationship had become less fractious. Even if Alexio had never quite been able to let go of his envy that Rafaele hadn’t had to endure the almost suffocating attention he’d received from his father. The heavy weight of expectation. The disappointment when Alexio had been determined to prove himself and not accept his inheritance.

They turned to walk away from the grave, engrossed in their own thoughts. They were of a similar build and height, both a few inches over six feet, drop-dead gorgeous, dark-haired. Alexio’s hair was darker, cut close to his skull. Their mother had bequeathed to them both her distinctive green eyes, but Alexio’s were lighter—more golden.

When they came to a stop near the cars Alexio decided to rib his brother gently, seeking to assuage the suddenly bleak feeling inside him. He observed his brother’s stubbled jaw. ‘You couldn’t even clean up for the funeral?’

‘I got out of bed too late,’ Rafaele drawled with a glint in his eye.

Alexio smiled wryly. ‘Unbelievable. You’ve only been in Athens for two days—no wonder you wanted to stay at a hotel and not at my apartment...’

Rafaele was about to respond when Alexio saw his face close up and his eyes narrow on something or someone behind him. He turned to look too and saw a tall, stern-faced stranger staring at them from a few feet away. Something struck him in the gut: recognition. Crazy. But the man’s eyes were a distinctive green...and that gut feeling intensified.

The stranger flicked a glance at the grave behind them and then his lip curled. ‘Are there any more of us?’

Alexio bristled at his belligerent tone and frowned, ‘Us? What are you talking about?’

The man just looked at Rafaele. ‘You don’t remember, do you?’

Alexio saw Rafaele go pale. Hoarsely he asked, ‘Who are you?’

The man smiled, but it was cold, ‘I’m your older brother—half-brother. My name is Cesar da Silva. I came today to pay my respects to the woman who gave me life...not that she deserved it.’

He was still talking but a roaring was sounding in Alexio’s ears. Older half-brother? Cesar da Silva. He’d heard of the man. Who hadn’t? He was the owner of a vast global conglomerate encompassing real estate, finance—myriad businesses. Famously private and reclusive.

Something rose up inside Alexio and he issued an abrupt, ‘What the hell?’

The man looked at him coldly and Alexio could now see the fraternal similarities that had led to that prickle of awareness. Even though da Silva was dark blond in colouring, they could be non-identical triplets.

Da Silva was saying coldly, ‘Three brothers by three fathers...and yet she didn’t abandon either of you to the wolves.’

He stepped forward and Alexio immediately stepped up too, feeling rage building inside him in the face of this shocking revelation. His half-brother topped him only by an inch at most. They stood chest to chest.

Cesar gritted out, ‘I didn’t come here to fight you, brother. I have no issue with either of you.’

A fierce well of protectiveness that Alexio had felt once before for his mother, before she’d rejected it, rose up within him. ‘Only with our dead mother—if what you say is true.’

Cesar smiled, but it was bleak, and it threw Alexio off slightly, making the rage diminish.

‘Oh, it’s true—more’s the pity.’

He stepped around him then and Alexio and Rafaele turned to watch him walk to the open grave, where he stood for a few long moments before taking something from his pocket and throwing it into the black space, where it landed with a dull thud.

Eventually he turned and came back. After a long, silent but charged moment, during which he looked at both brothers, he turned and walked swiftly to a waiting car. He got into the back. It drove off smoothly.

Rafaele turned towards Alexio and looked at him. Gobsmacked. Shock reverberated through his body. Adrenalin made him feel keyed up.

‘What the...?’

Rafaele just shook his head. ‘I don’t know...’

Alexio looked back at the empty space where the car had been and something cold settled into his belly. He felt exposed, remembering that time when he’d thought his mother would allow him to protect her. She hadn’t. Ever elusive, she was now managing to reach out from beyond the grave and demonstrate with dramatic timing just how a woman couldn’t be trusted to tell the truth and reveal her secrets. She would always hold something back. Something that might have the power to shatter your world.

CHAPTER ONE

Five months later...

‘CARA...DO YOU have to leave so soon?’

The voice oozed sultry sex appeal. Alexio stalled for a second in the act of buttoning up his shirt—not because he was tempted to stay but because, if anything, he felt even more eager to leave.

He schooled his features and turned to face the woman in the bed. She was all honeyed limbs and artfully tumbled glossy brown hair. Huge dark eyes, a pouting mouth and the absence of a sheet were doing little to help Alexio forget why he’d chosen to take her to his hotel suite in Milan after his brother Rafaele’s wedding reception last night.

She was stunning. Perfect.

Even so, he felt no resurgence of desire. And Alexio didn’t like to acknowledge the fact that the sex had been wholly underwhelming. On the surface it had been fine; but on some deeper level it had left him cold. He switched on the charm he was famed for, though, and smiled.

‘Sorry, bellissima, I have to fly to Paris this morning for work.’

The woman, whose name he all of a sudden wasn’t entirely sure of—Carmela?—leant back and stretched seductively, displaying her perfectly cosmetically enhanced naked breasts to their best advantage, and pouted even more. ‘You have to leave right now?’

Alexio kept his smile in place and when he’d finished dressing bent down and pressed a light kiss to her mouth, escaping before she could twine her arms around his neck. Claustrophobia was rising within him.

‘We had fun, cara...I’ll call you.’

Now the seductive pout was gone, and the woman’s real nature shone through as her eyes turned hard. She knew when she was being blown off and clearly did not like it when the man in question was as sought-after as Alexio Christakos.

She stood up from the bed naked and flounced off to the bathroom, issuing a stream of Italian petulance. Alexio winced slightly but let out a sigh of relief as soon as she’d disappeared behind a slamming door.

He shook his head as he made his way out of the suite and towards the lobby of the plush hotel in the private lift reserved for VIP guests. Women. He loved them, but he loved them at a distance. In his bed when it suited him and then out of it for as long as he cared to indulge them—which invariably wasn’t for long.

After years of witnessing his mother’s cold behaviour towards his father, who had remained in slavish thrall to her beauty and eternal elusiveness, Alexio had developed a very keen sense of self-protection around women. He could handle cold and aloof because he was used to that, and he preferred it.

His father, thwarted by his emotionally unavailable wife, had turned to his son, making him the centre of his world. It had been too much. From an early age Alexio had chafed against the claustrophobia of his father’s over-attention. And now when anyone—especially a woman—became even remotely over-emotional, or expected too much, he shut down inside.

Brief encounters were his forté. Witnessing his half-brother’s wedding the day before had inevitably brought up questions of his own destiny, but Alexio, at the age of thirty, felt no compelling need to settle down yet.

He did envisage a wife and family at some stage...far in the future. When the time came his wife would be perfect. Beautiful, accommodating. Undemanding of Alexio’s emotions. Above all, Alexio would not fall into the same trap as his father: tortured for life because he’d coveted a woman who didn’t covet him. He’d been disabused at an early age of the notion that love might be involved.

He thought of his older brother turning up at his mother’s funeral and all the accompanying unwelcome emotions he’d felt that day: shock, anger, hurt, betrayal.

Used to blocking out emotions, Alexio had relegated the incident to the back of his mind. He hadn’t sought Cesar da Silva out, hadn’t mentioned it again to Rafaele—even though he knew Rafaele had invited their half-brother to his wedding. Predictably enough, after that first and last terse meeting, he hadn’t turned up.

Emotions were messy, unpredictable. They tripped you up. Look at Rafaele! His life had just been turned upside down by a woman who had kept his son from him for four years. And yet two months after meeting her again he was getting married, looking foolishly in love and blithely forgetting the lessons his own father had taught him about the fickle nature of women.

As far as Alexio was concerned—even if Rafaele appeared to be happily embarking on wedded bliss, and no matter how cute his three-and-a-half-year-old nephew was—his brother had been played for a fool by his new wife. Why wouldn’t she now want to marry Rafaele Falcone, wunderkind of the worldwide automobile industry, with an estimated wealth running into the billions? Especially if she had a son to support?

No, Alexio was steering well clear of similar scenarios and he would never allow himself to be caught as his brother had been. He would never forgive a woman who kept a child from him. Still, a sliver of unease went down his spine. His brother, whom he’d considered to share a similar philosophy, had managed to get caught...

Alexio’s mouth firmed and he pushed such rogue notions down deep. He put on a pair of shades as his driver brought the car around to the front entrance and was oblivious to the double-take stares of a group of women as they walked into the hotel.

As soon as the car pulled away Alexio was already focusing on the next thing on his agenda, the introspection his brother’s wedding had precipitated along with his recent unsatisfactory bed partner already relegated to the back of his mind.

* * *

Sidonie Fitzgerald buckled her seatbelt on the plane and took a deep breath. But she was unable to shift the ball of tension sitting in her belly. For once her habitual fear of flying was being eclipsed by something else, and Sidonie couldn’t even really enjoy that fact.

All she could see in her mind’s eye was her beloved Tante Josephine’s round, eternally childish and worried face and hear her quavering voice: ‘Sidonie, what does it mean? Will they take my home from me? All these bills...where did they come from?’

Sidonie’s aunt was fifty-four and had spent a lifetime locked in a world of innocence. She’d been deprived of oxygen as a baby and as a result had been mildly brain-damaged. She’d always functioned at a slightly lesser and slower level than everyone around her, but had managed to get through school and find a job. She still worked in the grocer’s shop around the corner from where she’d lived for years, giving her precious independence.

Sidonie pursed her lips. She had loved her self-absorbed and endlessly vain mother, who had passed away only a couple of months before, but how could her mother have done this to her sweet and innocent younger sister?

The never forgotten sting of shame reminded Sidonie all too uncomfortably of exactly how her mother could have done such a thing—as if she could ever really forget. Ruthlessly she quashed it.

When Sidonie’s father had died a few years before, their comfortable lives had crashed around their ears, leaving them with nothing. Sidonie had been forced to leave her university degree before the start of her final year in order to find work and save money to go back.

Moving to Paris to live with Tante Josephine had been her mother Cecile’s only option to avoid becoming homeless or—even worse—having to find work. Cecile had not been happy. She’d been used to a life of comfort, relative luxury and security, courtesy of her hard-working husband who had wanted nothing more than to make his wife happy.

It would appear now, though, as if Sidonie’s mother’s selfish ways had risen to the fore again. She’d encouraged her sister to take out a mortgage on the apartment that had been bought and paid for by her husband because he’d cared for his vulnerable sister-in-law’s welfare. Cecile had used this fact as leverage to persuade Tante Josephine to agree to the remortgage. She’d then used that money, and credit cards in both their names, to spend a small fortune. Tante Josephine now found herself liable for the astronomical bills as the remaining living account-holder.

Sidonie had to figure out the best way forward to help her aunt—she had no intention of leaving her to fend for herself. The start of the process had been taking on the burden of the debts into her own name. She hadn’t thought twice about doing it—ever since her childhood innocence had been ripped away Sidonie had developed a well-ingrained instinct to cover up for her mother—even now, when she was gone.

Sidonie was facing the prospect of moving to Paris to help her aunt get out of this crisis. She staved off the sense of panic. She was young and healthy. Surely she could get work? Even if it was menial?

In a sick way events had conspired to help her—she’d lost her waitressing job in Dublin just before she’d left for Paris to meet with a solicitor to discuss her aunt’s situation. Her restaurant boss had explained miserably that they had gone into liquidation, like so many others. Sidonie was going back to Dublin now—just to tie up loose ends and collect the deposit owed to her on her flat when she moved out.

Her hands clenched into fists at the thought of how her mother had only ever thought about herself, oblivious to the repercussions of her—

‘Here is your seat, sir.’

‘Thank you.’

Sidonie’s thoughts scattered as she heard the exchange above her head, and she looked up and saw a man. She blinked. And blinked again. He was very tall and broad. Slim hips at her eye level. He was taking off an overcoat and folding it up to place it in the overheard locker, revealing a lean, muscular build under a fine silk shirt and jacket. Sidonie was vaguely aware of the way the air hostess was hovering attentively.

The man said in English, with a seductive foreign accent, ‘I’ve got it, thank you.’

The air hostess looked comically deflated and turned away. The man was now taking off his suit jacket, and Sidonie realised she was staring—no better than the gaping air hostess. Quickly she averted her head and looked out of the window, seeing nothing of the pewter-grey Parisian spring skies and the fluorescent-jacket-clad ground staff preparing the plane for take-off.

His image was burned onto her brain. It didn’t help when she felt him take the seat beside her and all the air around them seemed to disappear. And it really didn’t help when his scent teased her nostrils; musky and masculine.

He was quite simply the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life. Dark olive complexion, high cheekbones, strong jaw. Short dark brown hair. Firmly sculpted masculine mouth. He should have been pretty. But Sidonie’s impression was not of pretty. It was of hard and uncompromising sexuality. Heat. The last kind of person she’d have expected to sit in an economy seat beside her.

And then he spoke. ‘Excuse me.’

His voice was so deep that she felt it reverberate in the pit of her belly. She swallowed and told herself she was being ridiculous—he couldn’t possibly be that gorgeous. She turned her head and her heart stopped. His face was inches away. He was...that gorgeous. And more. He looked vaguely familiar and she wondered if he was a famous male model. Or a French movie star?

Something funny was happening to Sidonie’s brain and body. They didn’t seem to be connected any more. She felt a hysterical giggle rise up and had to stifle it. She didn’t giggle. What was wrong with her?

One dark brow moved upwards over the most startling pair of green eyes she’d ever seen. Gold and green. Like a lion. She had green eyes too, but they were more blue than green.

‘I think you’re sitting on my seatbelt?’

It took a few seconds for the words to compute, and when they did Sidonie jumped up as if scalded, hands flapping. ‘I’m so sorry... Excuse me... Just let me... It must be here somewhere...’

Sounding irritated, the man said, ‘Stay still and I’ll get it.’

Sidonie closed her eyes in mortification, her hands gripping the seat-back in front of her, and she hovered, contorted in the small space, as the man coolly retrieved his seatbelt and buckled it.

Sidonie sat down again and attended to her own belt. Feeling breathless, and avoiding looking at him again, she said, ‘I’m sorry. I—’

He cut her off. ‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it.’

A flare of something hot lanced Sidonie’s belly. Did he have to sound so curt? And why was she suddenly so aware of the fact that her hair was scraped up into a messy bun, that she had no make-up on, that she was wearing jeans that were so worn there was a frayed hole at her knee and an equally worn university sweatshirt. And her glasses. If Central Casting had been looking for ‘messy grunge student type’ she would have been hired on the spot.

She was disgusted at herself for letting a man—albeit a man as gorgeous as this one—make her feel so self-conscious. She forced herself to take a deep breath and looked resolutely forward. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she was aware of big, strong-looking hands opening up a tablet computer. Her belly clenched.

The seconds stretched to minutes and she heard him sigh volubly when the plane still wasn’t moving. His arm nearest to her reached up to push something, and she realised it must have been the call button when the stewardess arrived with indecent haste.

‘Yes, sir?’

Sidonie heard the irritation in his voice. ‘Is there a reason why we’re not moving yet?’

She looked over and saw only his strong profile and jaw, and even though she couldn’t see it she could imagine the kind of expression he’d be using: imperious. She glanced at the woman and felt sorry for her because she looked so embarrassed.

‘I’m not sure, sir. I’ll check right away.’ She rushed off again.

Sidonie let out a faint snort of derision. Even the stewardess was treating him as if he was some sort of overlord.

He looked at her then. ‘I’m sorry... Did you say something?’

Sidonie tried not to be affected by his overwhelming presence. She shrugged minutely. ‘I’m sure we’re just waiting in line to take our slot on the runway.’

He turned to face her more fully and Sidonie cursed herself. The last thing she needed was his undivided attention on her.

‘Oh, really? And what if I have an important meeting to attend in London?’

Something hot flashed into Sidonie’s veins and she told herself it was anger at his insufferable arrogance. She crossed her arms in an unconsciously defensive move and said in a low voice, ‘Well, in case it’s escaped your attention, there are approximately two hundred people on this plane. I’m sure more than one other person has a meeting to make, and I don’t see them complaining.’

His eyes flashed and momentarily stopped her breath. They were so unusual and stark against his dark skin. He was like a specimen from some exotic planet.

‘There’s two hundred and ten, actually, and I don’t doubt that there are many others who have important appointments lined up—which makes my question even more relevant.’

Sidonie barely registered the fact that he knew exactly how many were on board and bristled at the way his eyes had done that quick sweep up and down her body, clearly deducing that she wasn’t on her way to an important meeting.

‘For your information,’ she said frigidly, ‘I have a connecting flight to Dublin from London and I’ll be very inconvenienced if we’re late. But that’s just life, isn’t it?’

He leant back a little and looked at her. ‘I wondered where your accent was from. It’s intriguing.’

Sidonie wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, so she clamped her mouth shut. Just then someone dressed in uniform with a cap came alongside their seats and coughed slightly to get the man’s attention.

Releasing Sidonie from his compelling gaze, the man turned, and the pilot bent down and said discreetly, ‘Mr Christakos, sorry about this delay. It’s beyond our control, I’m afraid... They’ve got a backlog of planes waiting to take off. It shouldn’t be much longer, but we can get your private jet ready if you’d prefer?’

Sidonie knew her eyes had gone wide as she took in this exchange.

After a few moments the man said, ‘No, I’ll stay, Pierre. But thank you for thinking of it.’

The captain inclined his head deferentially and left again and Sidonie realised that her mouth was open. Abruptly she shut it and looked out of the window before the man could see. In her line of vision was a similar plane to theirs, standing nearby, with the distinctive Christakos logo emblazoned on the side, along with a quote from a Greek philosopher. All of Alexio Christakos’s planes sported quotes.

Alexio Christakos.

Sidonie shook her head minutely, in disbelief. The man next to her—now on his phone, with that deep voice speaking in a language that sounded like Greek—could not be the owner of Christakos Freight and Travel. That man was a legend. And he would certainly not be sitting beside her, with his long legs constricted by the confines of economy class seating.

He’d been a case study in their business class at college before she’d had to leave. Astonishingly successful while still disgustingly young, he’d made headlines when he’d cut himself off from his father’s inheritance to go his own way, never revealing to anyone his reasons for doing so.

He’d then grafted and worked his way up, starting up an online freight company that had blown all of the competition out of the water, and when he’d sold it after only two years he’d made a fortune. It was that early success that had given him the finances to branch out into air travel, and within the space of five years he’d been competing with and beating the best budget airlines in Europe. He had a reputation for treating customers like people and not like herded cattle, which was a trademark of a lot of Christakos’s competition.

He was also one of the most eligible bachelors in Europe, if not the world. Sidonie was not a gossip magazine aficionado, but after they’d studied his entrepreneurial methods in college she’d had to listen to her fellow classmates wax lyrical about the man, drooling over copious pictures of him, for weeks. With a sinking feeling in her chest, she realised why he looked vaguely familiar. Even though she’d not shared in their collective drooling she’d glanced at a couple of pictures, dismissing him as a pretty boy.

Now she knew: pretty he was not. He was all male. Virile and potent. She felt like squirming, and she wanted to change seats. She was suddenly acutely uncomfortable and didn’t like to analyse why that might be. She wasn’t used to someone having such an immediate physical effect on her.

* * *

The woman in the seat next to Alexio was starting to fidget. He had to curb the urge to put his hand on her thigh to stop her and curled that hand into a fist. She was clearly a nervy sort from the way she’d reacted when she discovered she was sitting on his seatbelt.

It was intensely irritating to him that he was aware of her at all. That he’d done a minor double-take on hearing her challenge him. He chafed at being in such close confines with another person after years of the luxury of private air travel, but if he wasn’t so damned conscientious...and controlling... His mouth quirked at the thought of the insult that had been hurled his way more than once.

On the phone, his assistant was informing him of his schedule in London, but Alexio caught sight of a sliver of pale knee peeping out of torn jeans beside him and stifled a snort. Could she be any messier? He’d taken in an impression after exchanging those few words—light-coloured hair, a slim body, pale face, glasses. Voluminous sweatshirt that hid any trace of femininity. And a surprisingly husky voice with that intriguing accent.

Alexio did not take notice of women who did not dress like women. He had high standards after being brought up by one of the world’s foremost models. His mother had always been impeccably turned out. He frowned. He was thinking of her again.

Realising the novel fact that he was not actually taking in a word his assistant was saying, Alexio terminated the conversation abruptly. The woman went still beside him and something tensed inside him. He could be on his way to his private jet right now but he’d refused. Again, not like him. But something had stopped him. Something in his gut.

He glanced over to see that the woman had a capacious grey bag on her lap and was pulling things out of the seat pocket in front of her to put them in haphazardly. Another strike against her. Alexio was a neat freak. She’d pushed her black-framed glasses on her head and his eye was drawn to her hair.

It was actually strawberry blonde. An intriguing colour. It looked to be wavy and unruly if let loose, and he found himself wondering how long it was when it wasn’t confined in that high bun, with wisps curling against her neck and face.

Something tightened inside him, down low. Her face, too, was not as unremarkable as he’d first thought. Heart-shaped and pale. He could see a faint smattering of freckles across her small straight nose and it shocked him slightly. It had been so long since he’d been this close to a face without make-up. It felt curiously intimate.

Her hands were small and quick. Deft. Short, practical nails. And just like that Alexio felt a punch of desire bloom in his gut. It was hot and immediate as he imagined how small and pale those hands would look on his body, caressing him, touching him, stroking him. The images were so incendiary that Alexio’s breath stopped for a moment.

The girl seemed to have restored her belongings to her bag and now, almost as an afterthought, she took her glasses off her head and put them in too.

She must be aware of his scrutiny—he could see a flood of red stain her cheeks. And that stunned him anew. When was the last time he’d seen a woman blush?

Alexio leant back slightly, noting that her mouth in profile looked full and soft. Kissable.

‘Going somewhere?’ he asked, slightly perturbed that his voice sounded so rough.

The woman took a breath, making her sweatshirt rise and fall, drawing his eye to the flesh it concealed. He had a sudden hunger to see her. And he wondered about her breasts. That desire increased, shocking him slightly with its force. He’d just left a woman in his hotel suite—what was wrong with him?

She looked at him and Alexio’s eyes met hers. He sucked in a breath. Without the black-framed glasses they were stunning. Almond-shaped. Aquamarine. Like the sea around the islands in Greece. Sparkling green one second and blue the next. Long dark lashes were a contrast against her pale colouring, and her eyebrows the same strawberry blonde tone as her hair.

She looked resolute, her hands gripping her bag, that soft mouth tight now, eyes avoiding his. ‘I’ll move seats.’

Alexio frowned. Everything in his body was rejecting the notion with a force he didn’t like to acknowledge. ‘Why on earth do you want to move?’

This was another novel experience—a woman trying to get away from him!

Alexio settled back further in his seat. The woman opened her mouth again and he saw small, even white teeth. Her two front teeth had a slight gap in the middle. He had the uncanny feeling that he could just sit there and stare at her for hours.

Now she was blushing in earnest.

‘Well, you’re obviously...you know...’ she looked at him now, slightly agonised.

He quirked a brow. ‘What am I?’

Her cheeks went an even brighter red and Alexio had to curb the desire to reach out and touch them to see if they felt as hot as they looked.

She huffed now, impatiently. ‘Well, you’re obviously you, and you have things to do, people to talk to. You need space.’

Something cold settled into Alexio’s belly and his eyes narrowed. Of course. She’d heard that exchange with the pilot and would have deduced who he was. Still...in his experience once people knew who he was they didn’t try to get away—the opposite, in fact.

‘I have all the space I need. You don’t need to go anywhere. I’ll feel insulted if you move.’

* * *

Sidonie had to force herself to calm down. What on earth was wrong with her? So what if he was Alexio Christakos, one of the most powerful entrepreneurs of his time? So what if he was more gorgeous than any man she’d ever seen? Since when had she become a walking hormone, anyway? The flight was only an hour. She could handle anything for an hour. Even sitting beside Alexio Christakos.

She forced herself to relax her grip on her bag and said, in as calm a voice as she could muster, ‘Fine. I just thought that in light of...who you are...you might appreciate some more space. I mean physically. You’re not exactly...’ Sidonie stopped and bit her lip, slid her gaze from his uncomfortably.

In an effort to distract him she started to take stuff out of her bag again: a book, papers...

‘I’m not exactly what?’

Sidonie could hear the barely suppressed smile in his voice and it made her prickle at being such an object of humour for him.

‘You know very well what I mean...’ She waved a hand in his general direction. ‘You’re not exactly designed to fit into economy class, are you?’

She could have sworn she heard a muffled snort but refused to look, thrusting her bag back down under the seat in front. She hated to acknowledge the zinging sensation in her blood, as if she’d been plugged into a mild electric current.

She sat back and crossed her arms, and looked at him to find him regarding her with a small smile playing around his mouth. Lord. Almost accusingly she asked, ‘Why are you here anyway? Apparently you could be on a private jet rather than waiting here like the rest of us.’

That green gaze was steady, unsettling.

‘It’s a spot-check. I like to do them from time to time, to make sure things are running smoothly.’

Sidonie breathed out as something clicked in her brain. ‘Of course. I read about that.’

He frowned and she clarified reluctantly, feeling hot and self-conscious. ‘You were a case study in my business module at college.’

That information didn’t appear to be news to him. ‘What else did you study at college?’

Embarrassed now, Sidonie admitted, ‘Technically I’m still in college... I had to leave before the start of my final year just over a year ago, due to personal events. I’m saving money to try and complete my course... My degree is in Business and French.’

‘What happened?’

Sidonie looked at him. On some level she was shocked at his directness, but it was also curiously refreshing. She couldn’t seem to remove her gaze from his. The small space they occupied felt strangely intimate, cocoon-like.

‘I... Well, my father lost his construction business when the property boom crashed in Ireland. He struggled for a while but it was useless. He only managed to get himself into debt.’ Sidonie went cold inside. ‘He passed away not long afterwards. Everything was gone—the business, the house... College was paid for up to a point, but then the money ran out. I had to leave and work.’

Sidonie felt uncomfortable under his gaze. It was intense, unsettling.

‘And why were you in Paris?’

Sidonie arched a brow. ‘What is this? Twenty questions? What were you doing in Paris?’

Alexio crossed his arms and Sidonie’s belly clenched when she saw how the muscles in his arm bunched under the thin silk of his shirt. She gulped and looked back into that hypnotising gaze.

‘I was in Milan yesterday at my brother’s wedding, he said. ‘Then I flew to Paris this morning to catch this flight, so that I could do my check while en route to London.’

‘Are you not concerned about missing your meeting?’

Alexio smiled and the bottom dropped out of Sidonie’s belly.

‘It’s not ideal, but they’ll wait for me.’

Of course they would, she thought faintly. Who wouldn’t wait for this man?

‘So,’ he said patiently, ‘now will you tell me why you were in Paris?’

Sidonie looked at him and unbidden a lump came to her throat for her wayward. selfish mother and her poor Tante Josephine who was so worried. She swallowed it down.

‘I was here to meet with a solicitor to deal with my mother’s affairs. She passed away in Paris a couple of months ago. She’d been living with my aunt; she’s from here originally.’ She corrected herself. ‘Was from here, I mean. She moved back after my father died.’

Alexio uncrossed his arms and his expression sobered. ‘That’s rough—to lose both parents in such a short space of time. I lost my mother too—five months ago.’

Sidonie’s chest tightened. A moment of empathy. Union. ‘I’m sorry... It’s hard, isn’t it?’

His mouth twisted. ‘I have to admit that we weren’t that close—but, yes, it was still a shock.’

That feeling intensified in Sidonie’s chest. She revealed huskily, ‘I did love my mum, and I know she loved me, but we weren’t that close either. She was very...self-absorbed.’

Suddenly the plane lurched into movement and Sidonie’s hands went to grab the armrests automatically as she looked out of the window. ‘Oh, God, we’re moving.’

A dry voice came from her left. ‘That’s generally what a plane does before it takes off.’

‘Very funny,’ muttered Sidonie, and their recent conversation was wiped from her mind as she battled with the habitual fear of flying she faced.

‘Hey, are you okay? You look terrible.’

‘No,’ Sidonie got out painfully, knowing she’d probably gone ashen. Her eyes were closed. ‘I’m not okay, but I will be if you just leave me alone. Ignore me.’

‘You’re scared of flying? And you’re taking two flights to Dublin? Why didn’t you just take a direct flight?’ Now he sounded censorious.

‘Because,’ Sidonie gritted out, ‘it worked out cheaper to do it this way, and the direct flights were all full anyway. It was short notice.’

The familiar nausea started to rise and she clamped her mouth shut, feeling cold and clammy. She tried not to think back to the huge breakfast her Tante Josephine had insisted on them both having before they’d left on their respective journeys. It sat heavily in her belly now.

The plane was moving in earnest; this was always the worst part—and the take-off. And the landing. And sometimes in between if there was turbulence.

‘Did something happen to make you scared?’

Sidonie wished he would just ignore her, but bit out, ‘What? You mean apart from the fact that I’m miles above the earth, surrounded by nothing but a bit of tin and fibreglass or whatever planes are made of?’

‘They’re actually made mainly of aluminium, although sometimes a composite of metals is used, and in newer technology they’re looking at carbon fibre. My brother designs and builds cars, so we’re actually looking into new technologies together.’

Sidonie cracked open one eye and cast Alexio a baleful glance. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘Because your fears are irrational. You do know that air travel is the safest form of travel in the world?’

Sidonie opened both eyes now and tried to avoid seeing outside the plane. She looked at Alexio. That didn’t really help, she had to admit.

She said somewhat churlishly, ‘I suppose that the likelihood of the plane going down while its owner is on board is not very high.’

He looked smug. ‘See?’

Then he leant closer, making her pulse jump out of control.

‘And did you know that of all the seats on the plane these are the safest ones to be in—in the event of a crash?’

Sidonie’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’

She saw humour dancing in those golden depths and clamped her eyes shut again while something swooped precariously in her belly.

‘Very funny.’

Then the plane jerked and Sidonie’s hands tightened on the armrests. She heard a deep sigh from beside her and then felt her left hand being taken by a much bigger one. Instantly she was short of breath which she could ill afford to lose.

‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked, very aware of how tiny her hand felt in his.

‘If it’s all right with you, I’d prefer it if you abused me rather than my armrests.’

Sidonie opened her eyes again and glanced left. Alexio was looking stern, but with a twitch of a smile playing around his mouth. Lord, oh, Lord. She said, a little breathlessly, ‘I think somehow that your armrests can withstand my feeble attempts to bend them out of shape.’

‘Nevertheless,’ Alexio replied easily, ‘I won’t let it be said that I couldn’t offer support to a valued customer in her hour of need.’

CHAPTER TWO

SOMETHING HOT AND shivery went through Sidonie’s body. He was flirting with her. She felt as if she was teetering on the edge of a huge canyon, with the exhilaration of the fall reaching out to beckon her into the unknown. He was so utterly gorgeous, and so charming when he turned it on. It was smooth, practised. And she was no match for a man like him.

With her body screaming resistance, Sidonie pulled her hand free from his grip and smiled tightly. ‘I’ll be fine. But, thanks.’

His eyes flashed for a second, as if he were taken aback or surprised. The regret in Sidonie’s body was like a sharp pang.

She clasped her hands in her lap, well out of reach, and turned her head, closing her eyes so that she didn’t have to look out of the window. Her battle with fear as the plane took off was being eclipsed by her need not to show it to the man beside her.

More than once she wished that he’d take her hand again. His palm had felt ever so slightly callused. The hands of a working man, not a pampered man.

‘You can open your eyes now. The seatbelt sign is about to go off.’

Sidonie took a deep breath and opened her eyes, releasing her hands from their death grip on each other. Alexio was looking at her. She had the impression that he’d been looking at her the whole time. She felt clammy. Hot.

He held out his hand then, and said, ‘I believe you already know who I am, but I don’t know who you are...’

He wasn’t backing off. Butterflies erupted in Sidonie’s belly again. She couldn’t ignore him. She put her hand in his, unable to help a small smile which was only in part to do with the trauma of take-off being over.

‘Sidonie Fitzgerald—pleased to meet you.’

He clasped her hand and once again an electric current seemed to thrum through her blood.

‘Sidonie...’ he mused. ‘It sounds French.’

‘It is. My mother chose it. I told you she was French.’

‘That’s right...you did.’

He was still holding her hand and Sidonie felt as if she was overheating. ‘Did they just turn the heating up?’

‘You do look hot. Maybe you should take your sweatshirt off.’

He finally released her hand and it tingled. Faintly, Sidonie said, ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine...’ She had no intention of baring herself to this man’s far too assessing gaze.

It was then that Sidonie remembered what they’d been talking about. The fact that they’d both lost their mothers recently. That feeling of kinship. Feeling exposed now, she looked away and reached for her book. She held it for a minute and then turned to Alexio again. He had put his head back against the seat, closed his eyes. She felt ridiculously deflated for a moment.

But then she realised she could drink him in unobserved. His profile was patrician. His eyes deep-set, with long dark lashes. His cheekbones would have made a woman weep with envy, but the stark lines of his face took away any pretty edges.

His jaw was firm, even in repose, and she could see the faint stubbling of fresh beard growth. A spasm of lust gripped her between her legs, taking her by surprise. She’d never experienced such raw desire. She’d had a couple of boyfriends at college and had had sex, but it had all been a bit...bland. A lot of fuss over nothing. Mildly excruciating. The guys had certainly seemed to enjoy it more than she had.

She could imagine, though, that this man knew exactly what to do...how to make a woman feel exactly as she should. Especially a man with a mouth like his...sensual and wicked. Hard lines but soft contours... Sidonie pressed her legs together to stop the betraying throb between them. She hadn’t even known she had a pulse there, but she could feel it now, like a beacon.

‘It’s rude to stare, you know.’

Sidonie sprang back. Cheeks flaming. One lazy eye had opened and was focused on her, seeing her mortification.

She spluttered, ‘How did you know?’

Before she could feel any more embarrassed he bent down and his head of thick dark hair, closely cropped to his skull, came dangerously near to her thighs. Heat bloomed from Sidonie’s groin.

Then he straightened up, holding her book in his hand. He took a quick glance at the title before handing it back to her and commenting dryly, ‘Techniques for Analysing Successful Business Structures? That’s bound to send you to sleep.’

Sidonie scowled and took the book from him jerkily. ‘I’m trying to keep up with my course so that when I go back I won’t be too rusty.’

Alexio dipped his head. ‘Very commendable.’

Sidonie felt defensive and wasn’t even sure why. ‘Some of us have to study the subject. We don’t have the natural ability or the support to be able to launch a stratospherically successful business first time.’

His mouth tightened and Sidonie knew she’d raised his hackles.

‘I didn’t have any support—or did your case study not cover that?’

Sidonie flushed and looked down, inspecting a spot of dirt on her jeans. She looked up again. ‘I didn’t mean it to sound like that... It’s common knowledge that you turned your back on your inheritance... However, you can’t deny that your background must have given you confidence and an anticipation of success that most mere mortals mightn’t feel or experience.’

His face relaxed somewhat and Sidonie felt herself relax too. Weird.

‘You’re right,’ he surprised her by admitting. ‘After all, I grew up absorbing my father’s business nous whether I want to admit it or not. And I had the best education money could buy... My brother is also a successful entrepreneur, so I learnt from him too.’

Sidonie was itching to ask him why he’d turned his back on his inheritance, but just then the stewardess turned up with a trolley, smiling winsomely at Alexio. Sidonie felt the most bizarre rise of something hot and visceral. Possessiveness. It shocked her so much that she shrank back.

Her sweatshirt felt hot and constricting, even more so now, and Sidonie longed to feel cool. While Alexio was distracted, ordering some coffee from the woman, Sidonie whipped it over her head—only to emerge seconds later to find two pairs of eyes on her. The distinctly cold blue of the stewardess and a green gaze, intent and disturbing.

‘What...?’ She looked from Alexio to the woman, who now spoke to her in tones even cooler than her arctic gaze.

‘Would you like some tea or coffee, madam?’

In fluent French Sidonie replied that she would love some tea. She could sense the small smile playing around Alexio’s mouth without even looking. Her skin prickled as she put down her table and accepted the steaming tea. She felt exposed now, in her loose singlet top, even though it was layered over another one.

Before she could reach for her purse Alexio had paid for her drink as well as his. Not a welcome move, according to the pursed lips of the stewardess who moved on with barely disguised huffiness.

Alexio seemed oblivious, though.

‘Thank you,’ Sidonie said. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s nothing—my pleasure.’

Sidonie shivered a little to think of his pleasure.

To get away from such carnal imaginings, she remarked, ‘How is it beneficial to do a spot-check on one of your planes if everyone knows who you are?’ He quirked a brow at her as he took a sip of coffee and Sidonie blustered a bit. ‘Well, you know what I mean. That stewardess will obviously be doing her best to impress.’

‘True,’ he conceded, and put his cup down.

Sidonie was acutely aware of how dark his hands looked against the cup, how large.

‘But I never inform them when I’m coming, and I’m not just interested in the behaviour of my staff—it’s everything. I can overhear the passengers’ observations too.’

Sidonie frowned. ‘But don’t you have people who work for you who can do this sort of thing and report back?’

Alexio shrugged minutely. ‘I have to go to London today—why not take one of my own commercial flights? If I expect others to do it then I should be able to, too. I am aware of my carbon footprint. I have a responsibility.’

Sidonie could see unimstakable pride in his business on his face. She nodded her head. ‘It’s smart. Because if anyone ever criticises you you can say that you know first-hand what it’s like to fly on your budget flights. And,’ she added, warming to her theme, turning more towards Alexio, ‘it gives the customer a sense of kinship with you. You’re one of the people.’

He smiled. ‘That too. Very good, business student. It’s a pity you had to drop out.’

Sidonie glanced away, uncomfortable again under that gaze. It was as if he could see right through her to a place she wasn’t even aware of herself. Some secret part she’d not explored yet.

‘So your mother was French...and your father?’

Sidonie rolled her eyes and said lightly, ‘Back to twenty questions again?’

She sat back and tried not to notice how confined the space was. Their elbows kept touching lightly when they moved. Their thighs would be touching if she shifted hers towards him by about an inch. His legs were so long he had to spread them wide.

Instantly warm again, Sidonie answered before he could comment. ‘My father was Irish. My mother went to Dublin many years ago...she met my father and stayed in Dublin and they got married.’

Sidonie slid her gaze from Alexio’s, afraid he might see something of her very deep shame revealed. It wasn’t exactly the way things had happened, but near enough. He didn’t need to know the darker secrets of her parents’ relationship and her origins. Or about subsequent shattering events.

She looked at him. ‘And you?’

His expression became veiled, piquing her interest.

‘My mother was Spanish and my father is Greek. But you probably knew that.’

Sidonie answered, ‘I didn’t realise your mother was Spanish...’

‘I presume your fluent French is from your mother?’

Sidonie nodded and took another sip of tea. She realised then that if only she wasn’t so aware of Alexio it would actually be quite nice talking to him.

‘She spoke French to me all the time, and my father encouraged it. He knew it would come in handy at some stage.’

‘You were close to your father?’

She nodded. ‘Why do you ask?’

Alexio reached out and to Sidonie’s shock touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers for a fleeting second.

‘Because your face softened when you mentioned him.’

Sidonie touched her cheek where he had touched her and felt embarrassed. She ducked her face again, wishing her hair was down so she could hide. ‘I loved him. He was a wonderful man.’

‘You’re lucky to have had that... My father...we don’t exactly see eye to eye.’

Sidonie glanced back at him, grateful for the attention to be off her, and laughed slightly. ‘Surely he must be one of the proudest fathers in the world?’

Alexio smiled, but it was grim. ‘Ah, but my success didn’t come through him. I fought for my own piece of the pie and he’s never forgiven me for it.’

* * *

Just then they were interrupted again, when a different stewardess came along to clear up their rubbish. It gave Alexio a reality check and he balked inwardly.

What on earth was he doing? Blithely spilling his guts to a complete stranger because he was momentarily mesmerised by pale skin, beautiful eyes and a very supple, slim body?

When the stewardess had gone and Alexio was still berating himself he saw Sidonie undo her seatbelt buckle.

She looked at him expectantly before saying, ‘I need to go to the bathroom. Please.’

Relieved to have a chance to gather his completely scattered senses, Alexio undid his own seatbelt and stood up. Deliberately he didn’t move out into the aisle completely, so that Sidonie had to brush past him. He saw the flash in her eyes, making them sparkle a brilliant blue-green, and felt that punch to his gut again.

As she went past him he saw that she was doing her best not to touch him, but even the most fleeting glance of her hip against his thigh sent shards of desire into his belly. He couldn’t help but smell her scent—cool and crisp, with a hint of something floral. That was what she was like—one minute spiky, the next as soft as a fresh rose. And as alluring.

She was taller than he had expected—about five foot seven...

When he’d sat down again, and she’d moved down the aisle to the bathroom, Alexio stuck his head out to watch her, his blood heating through every vein and artery at the way her skinny jeans hugged her slim, shapely legs and cupped her surprisingly lush derriere. To Alexio’s consternation he saw more than one other male head dip out to take a look too as she passed.

It felt as if he hadn’t taken a proper breath since he’d seen her take off that horrific sweatshirt. He’d happened to look at her for her response when the stewardess had asked if she wanted something, only to find her in the act of taking it off. He’d been unable to look away as Sidonie had fought with the voluminous material, gradually showing tantalising glimpses of pale flesh, slim arms, tiny wrists, delicate shoulders and collarbone.

She’d emerged flushed, and Alexio’s libido had been suddenly ravenous. She was wearing a vest top, with a loose singlet over it, so she was showing nothing that wasn’t completely respectable. But she might as well have been naked, the effect within Alexio was so violent. He felt like a Victorian man seeing bared arms for the first time; they were almost provocative in their slim, delicately muscled definition.

He’d sat there with a raging erection, trying in vain to concentrate on the conversation and those flashing expressive eyes and not let his gaze drift down to where her small but lush cleavage was revealed under those two tops. The hint of a bright pink bra strap every now and then had enflamed him more than the most expensive lingerie modelled by any of his previous lovers. The memory of his Latin lover of last night was being comprehensively eclipsed.

Alexio wanted to see her—all of her—with a hunger that might ordinarily cause him to stop and think. He could already imagine her perfectly formed breasts, made to fit a man’s hands like plump fruits. Would her nipples be small and peaked? Or large and succulent? He hadn’t been able to resist touching her hot cheek for a second. Her skin was as soft and unblemished as a peach.

This was the kind of desire he’d missed for so long. The kind he’d lamented not feeling last night. Urgent and hot. Utterly compelling. As if he couldn’t envisage not getting off this plane and taking Sidonie with him so that he could taste her all over. And Alexio had to wonder in that moment if he’d ever really felt like this. Or had it just been a figment of his imagination till now?

The revelation sent him reeling, and he wasn’t prepared at all when a soft voice said hesitantly, ‘Er...excuse me, Mr Christakos?’

He looked up and there she was, and just like that any semblance of clear-headedness was gone. He was reduced to animal lust again. Her breasts were in his eyeline and he could see the thrust of her nipples against the thin fabric of her two tops, like berries. He had to get up and let her back in, cursing his body, which would not obey his head.

One thing he was sure of as she brushed past him in the small space again and her scent tantalised him: he wanted this Sidonie Fitzgerald with her husky voice with a hunger he’d not known before. And he would have her. Because Alexio Christakos always got what he wanted. Especially women.

* * *

Sidonie sat down again and tried to hang on to the control she’d struggled to find in the tiny bathroom space just moments before. She’d splashed cold water on her face, as if that might wake her from the trance she seemed to be in.

Any return of her equilibrium had been short-lived. As soon as she’d got back Alexio Christakos had looked at her—that molten green gaze travelling up from her breasts to her face—and it had been so intense...almost predatory. Her whole body had reacted to it, igniting like a flame. Even the air seemed to be crackling between them now, as if something had been turned up a notch.

He’s a playboy, he’s a playboy, she repeated like a mantra in her head. He’s programmed to go after anything with a pulse. But Sidonie grimaced at that. Alexio Christakos, according to her fellow enamoured students, was discerning—only choosing the most stunning models and actresses. The beauties of this era. And Sidonie, with her fair colouring, freckles and wayward hair, did not fall into that category. Not by a long shot. This crazy desire...whatever it was she was feeling...she had to be imagining it.

A wave of mortification rushed up through her body, sending her hot and cold. Was she projecting her own pathetic subconscious fantasies onto this man who had the misfortune to be paired with her for the flight?

She heard him clear his throat beside her and was almost scared to look. She could sense his gaze on her—or could she? With a sick desire to know how badly she’d been deluding herself Sidonie turned her head and met that green gaze head-on. Slamming into it, almost. The breath left her mouth in a little sigh. Her belly swooped and her skin tingled all over. Her nipples drew so tight she could feel them like stinging points, chafing against her lace bra.

‘Don’t...’ he growled softly, intimately. ‘Don’t call me Mr Christakos again. It makes me feel like an old man. It’s Alexio.’

Sidonie could feel the plane dip in altitude. Somehow she found her voice. ‘We’re landing soon. I won’t see you ever again, so it doesn’t really matter what I call you.’

‘Don’t be so sure about that.’

Sidonie blinked. Her heart spasmed in her chest. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I’m taking you out to dinner tonight.’

* * *

Sidonie had two contradictory reactions. Head and heart/body. Her heart/body leapt and sizzled. Her head said Danger! Danger! He was definitely arrogant, and she was loath to let him see that even a small part of her was tempted. A man like this? He would chew her up over dinner and a one-night stand and then cast her out with little or no second thought.

She was a fleeting interest.

Maybe the lack of air and the confines of economy class had gone to his head. Maybe he was bored, jaded, and something about her intrigued him because she was so different from his usual women.

Sidonie crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. She saw Alexio’s jaw clench, as if he was priming himself for a fight, and something deep within her quivered and then went soft and molten. She fought it. They were both oblivious to the stewardess, who had come to check their seatbelts for landing.

‘That sounded remarkably like an order and not an invitation. I’m catching a connecting flight to Dublin—or didn’t you hear that part earlier?’

Sidonie wasn’t sure exactly why she felt so threatened by his advance, but she did. Even though she knew she was probably right in her suspicions about why a man like Alexio was flirting with her, a very large part of her wanted to leap into his arms and say yes.

She would bet that not many women turned him down—if any. But she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she gave in to him for what she had no doubt would amount to one night. She told herself it was because she valued herself too highly, but she knew, treacherously, that she was afraid of how strongly this man affected her. One night would never be enough. She felt it deep in the pit of her belly. And that freaked her out. She was a naturally responsible and cautious person, not given to spontaneous acts like this.

He cast his glance to the very sexy platinum watch on his wrist, and then back to her. ‘I’d say you’ve missed that connecting flight, and as I’m the owner of the airline company the least you can do is allow me to make it up to you. By taking you for dinner.’

Sidonie snorted inelegantly and quashed the swooping sensation in her belly. ‘I don’t see you offering everyone on this plane dinner to recompense them for missing their connecting flights.’

That formidable jaw clenched again. ‘That’s probably because I don’t want to take them for dinner. However, I would like to take you for dinner. Please.’

Sidonie’s chin lifted, but she quivered inwardly at his please. ‘I’m a terrible dinner companion. I’m a fussy eater and I’m a vegetarian. Vegan, actually.’

That wasn’t true, but some devil inside her was working now. Sparking.

Alexio smiled. ‘I’m sure you are a scintillating dinner companion, and I know a fabulous vegetarian restaurant—all the eggplant you can eat.’

That humour danced in his eyes again, transporting him from downright gorgeous to downright irresistible. Sidonie scowled. He didn’t believe her for a second. His eyes dropped down her body and then came back up again. A wickedly sexy slow smile tipped up his mouth, telling her better than any words that dinner and conversation were not the only things on his mind. As if she couldn’t feel it vibrating between them. This awareness she’d never felt before.

Sidonie glared at him and tried to will down the heat in her body that mocked her with the realisation that dinner wasn’t exactly foremost in her mind either. Very belatedly she remembered she had taken off her sweatshirt and scrabbled around to find it and pull it back on.

She heard a sound beside her and looked to see Alexio making a face.

‘That thing should be burnt.’

Sidonie gasped, affronted. ‘It’s my favourite.’

‘It’s a crime to hide your body underneath that shapeless thing.’

Suddenly there was a sharp thudding and crashing sensation and Sidonie’s heart stopped. She felt all her blood drain south.

Instantly Alexio had her hands in his and he was saying soothingly, ‘We’ve just landed, that’s all.’

Sidonie’s heart was still palpitating. Her ears popped. She could see the ground through the window across the aisle and felt the powerful throttle of the plane as it pulled back.

She looked at Alexio, shocked. ‘I’ve never not noticed landing before.’ She’d been distracted. By him.

Her hands were still in his and she looked down to see them, so much smaller and paler next to his. As she watched he entwined his fingers with hers and between her legs she throbbed. He exerted pressure on her hands and Sidonie looked up, her head feeling heavy, her blood hot.

For a long, taut moment they just looked at one another. Sidonie’s breath grew choppy. Alexio pulled one hand free and brought it up to cup her jaw, his thumb moving back and forth as if learning the shape of her cheek.

His eyes were on her mouth now. She wanted him to kiss her so badly. The air sizzled. And then his eyes met hers again and he emitted a guttural sound like a curse. His jaw clenched. He took his hand away. Sidonie had to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself from crying out.

As if she’d been drugged just by that look Sidonie slowly came back to her senses, and mortification gripped her innards when she realised how she must have looked: like some love-starved groupie.

She jerked back. Thank goodness he hadn’t kissed her, because she knew that she would have put up no fight whatsoever. And she hated the part of her that felt bereft of the experience. She looked away.

‘Sidonie.’

The fact that his voice was rough didn’t give her any comfort.

‘What?’ she snapped, reaching for her bag and putting it on her lap so that she could put her stuff back into it.

She found her glasses and stuck them on, even though she only needed them for reading. They felt like the armour she needed. She looked at him and then wished she hadn’t. His face was all stark, lean lines. Nostrils flaring. Eyes dangerous.

People around them were starting to stand up, unbuckling seatbelts, reaching for bags.

Sidonie forgot for a moment that he’d even asked her for dinner. She felt ridiculously vulnerable. Exposed.

‘I’m sure you have an assistant waiting nearby to fast-track you off the plane and out of the airport.’

Alexio’s mouth firmed. She was right. Even now he could see a uniformed official saying, ‘Excuse me...’ as he fought his way through the crush to get to Alexio.

He grabbed for her hand and Sidonie glanced around them, but no one was looking. All eager to get on with their journeys.

‘Sidonie, I meant what I said. Come for dinner with me tonight.’

She looked at him and still felt that awful sting of rejection because he hadn’t actually kissed her. She hated that it made her feel vulnerable. ‘I’m going to Dublin. I can’t stay in London just on your...whim.’

His eyes flashed. ‘It’s not a whim. If you stay I’ll take care of you—get you home.’

Sidonie pulled her hand free. She shook her head. ‘No...I’m sorry, but I can’t.’

The uniformed person was at their seats now and he bent down to say something to Alexio, who made a curt reply. He stood up and reached for his jacket and coat. He looked down at Sidonie, whose eyes had been glued to that magnificent torso as he’d stretched up.

‘Come with me. At least let me try to help you make your flight.’

Sidonie looked at him and gulped. Now he was distant, unreadable. A shiver went down her spine and she knew in that moment that she would hate to cross him. He would be a formidable enemy.

Stiffly she said, ‘You don’t have to do this. I can find my own way and wait for another flight if I have to.’

He sighed deeply. ‘Just...don’t argue, okay? Come with me—please.’

He held out his hand and Sidonie looked from him to it. This was probably the last time she’d ever see him. On some level she realised with a jolt that she felt as if she could trust this man who was all but a total stranger. Even though she was fighting it.

That revelation stunned her. She’d never trusted easily after the cataclysmic events of her childhood. And losing both parents within such a short space of time, together with the recent revelations about her mother’s nefarious actions, had made the world feel increasingly fragile around her. As if nothing she knew was solid any more. Yet being in the company of this man had made Sidonie feel more solid than she’d ever felt. Protected. Which was crazy.

Even more crazy, though, was the fact that Sidonie couldn’t resist the lure of a few more minutes with this man. Her hand slipped into his almost of its own volition and it was disconcerting how familiar it felt—and yet how deliciously terrifying, as if she were stepping off a ledge.

She was out of her seat and Alexio was leading her towards the back of the plane, guided by the man who had come to fetch him. The back door was open just for them, with the frosty stewardess saying goodbye, sending Sidonie daggers on seeing her hand clasped tightly in Alexio’s.

Hating herself for how much she liked the way her hand felt in his, Sidonie followed him down the steps to where another official and a car were waiting. She heard Alexio give her name to the person and instruct him that her luggage should be brought to meet them on the other side. A VIP customs official inspected her Irish passport.

And then they were in a chauffeur-driven car and speeding towards the terminal Sidonie needed to get to for her connecting flight.

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