When Christakos Meets His Match

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.’