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‘I wish to spare you and the baby the discomfort of a return journey in a cramped middle seat next to malodorous passengers.’
Colour tinged her cheeks, drawing my attention to their smoothness, reminding me of other sensational areas of her body. I shifted, willing the blood racing to my groin to slow.
‘But—’
‘My pilot is waiting on the steps. That means we have a fast-closing window for take-off. So perhaps we can continue your objections aboard?’
Her lips firmed. ‘That sort of defeats the object of the exercise, doesn’t it?’
‘Are you really that attached to your budget airline seat?’
‘Fine. You’ve made your point.’
‘Efkharisto.’
‘I don’t know what that means.’
‘It means thank you.’
‘Oh. Okay.’
Despite having won this hand, I was reluctant to leave the car...to end the moments of accord we’d shared. Reinforcing my guard, I stepped out, telling myself it was only decent manners that made me hold out my hand to her.
She took it, stepped out and immediately released it.
The balmy early evening air drifted a breeze through the hangar, sliding her dress against her hips as she preceded me up the stairs. That hot tug of lust flamed in my groin, reminding me that the months before and after Sadie’s eruption into my life had been the longest time I’d gone without a woman.
The notion that if my plan were to succeed I’d have to endure an even longer spell filled me with unwelcome dissatisfaction as I entered the plane after her.
Most people who were lucky enough to be invited onto the Xenakis jet frothed at the mouth at the no-expense-spared opulence of its interior.
One of four in the fleet of Jumbo Jets used for family and business trips, the Airbus was satisfyingly immense. With upper and lower decks, and filled with sleep, entertainment and business facilities, and even a twenty-seater cinema, it catered to every imaginable taste.
Anneka had loved to travel in this lap of luxury, insisting on the use of the jet several times a week during our engagement. Of course, I’d later found out what those trips had entailed...
Sadie’s gaze flitted over hand-stitched cashmere throws, bespoke incorporated furniture and Aubusson carpeting with disarming lack of interest, her feet almost dragging as she contemplated the seats she could occupy, then made a beeline for a detached club chair.
About to follow, I paused when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Catching the attendant’s eye, I nodded to Sadie. ‘Get Miss Preston whatever she wants to eat and drink. Make sure she’s comfortable.’
‘Of course, sir.’
With more than a tinge of regret, I answered my phone. Then spent the next two hours putting the finishing touches on my plan to ensure an unbreakable alignment with Sadie Preston.
By the time we landed at the private airport twenty minutes from her North London residence, I was satisfied with my decisions. Enough to be confident that I could counter any argument she might have.
Once I’d dealt with the handful of obstacles still standing in my way.
The first came in the form of Martha Preston—a woman bearing a striking resemblance to her daughter, whose red hair Sadie had obviously inherited.
‘You must be Mrs Preston,’ I said when she appeared at the door. ‘My name is—’
‘My goodness—you’re Neo Xenakis! Please, come in.’ She threw the door wide open, much to her daughter’s initial astonishment, then immediate annoyance.
‘Mum—’
‘Is something wrong?’ Martha asked, hurrying down the hallway while throwing wide-eyed looks over her shoulder. ‘When you said you’d be gone all day I assumed it was to work, not... Wow... Um... Anyway, welcome to our home, Mr Xenakis.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, unable to suppress my shudder as I looked around.
