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‘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.’
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p; ‘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.’
