When Christakos Meets His Match

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.’