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‘Champagne, Miss MacKenzie?’
Sofie was dizzy. All she could do was nod and accept the ridiculously elegant and delicate glass flute containing honey-coloured sparkling wine. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose at the sensation of the bubbles. The wine was fragrant and sweet and dry all at once. It was heady. Like this whole situation, which had morphed out of her control from the moment she’d laid eyes on the helicopter.
And found out that Achilles was a billionaire.
And that they were flying by private jet.
She looked out of the small window beside her plush seat. They’d left Glasgow behind some time ago and were high above the clouds. This at least felt a bit more solid than the helicopter, which had swayed precariously as it had lifted into the air.
Her friend Claire had come to wave goodbye. Her parting words still rang in Sofie’s head: ‘I think what you’re doing is crazy, but brave. Enjoy the adventure and just don’t fall for him.’
Claire was going to watch the house and take care of Pluto. And she’d agreed to smooth things over with Sofie’s boss at the hospital—in any case, it wasn’t as if she had much of a job to lose, if it came to it.
For a second she let herself feel the giddiness of behaving totally out of character and uprooting her life exactly as she’d dreamt of doing.
‘Happy you made the right decision?’
Sofie turned to look at Achilles. He was on the other side of the aisle in his own very plush leather seat. He’d been on the phone since they boarded. He was drinking coffee.
Weakly avoiding answering his question, because the giddy, light feeling inside her was all too disturbing, she said, ‘You’re not having champagne?’
He made a face. ‘Not yet. I need to keep my wits about me.’
Sofie turned towards him in her seat. They were alone except for the discreet cabin staff, who had greeted Achilles by name when they’d boarded.
‘How was it that someone like you was able to have an accident and lose your memory and no one came looking for you?’
Sofie’s eyes were huge and very blue. And full of concern. Once again Achilles’s conscience pricked when he thought of the world he was about to introduce her to. It was quickly followed by a sense of protectiveness. An alien sensation. But not altogether unappealing.
She was looking at him, waiting for a response. Achilles decided she didn’t need to know the full extent of his reasons for going off-grid.
He shrugged minutely. ‘I needed some space and time to think about things. I have a lot on my plate.’
Sofie’s eyes filled with compassion. ‘I understand.’
‘You do?’
She nodded. ‘Lots of people come to the island and climb that particular mountain because they’re searching for something. Because they’re...disillusioned. Or tired.’
‘You’re suggesting I was burnt out?’
She looked earnest. ‘It’s really not that uncommon for people to go there to challenge themselves by doing something physical. To get out of their own heads.’
Achilles was surprised at how incensed he was by her suggestion that his actions had displayed any kind of weakness. ‘I wasn’t burnt out. I am not burnt out.’
But then, unbidden, a slew of images came into his head: brokering deals that took far too much mental energy and yet left him not much further along on his path to achieving his ultimate ambition; glittering parties where he’d felt more and more removed from everything around him; an endless parade of faceless lovers who had left him momentarily sated but far from satisfied.
It rankled that Sofie had intuited something he hadn’t even admitted to himself. And something else struck him then—something he’d avoided looking at too closely before now. There was another reason he’d asked Sofie to come with him. Even though he had his memory back, he still felt as if a part of him was hidden, unknown. As if some vital piece of information was yet to be revealed...some piece of a puzzle. An important revelation that he couldn’t pin down. It was disconcerting.
Sofie alleviated that feeling. Once she was near him that creeping sense of something hiding just out of view diminished. She had been his anchor since he’d woken up. And, even though he would die before he admitted to needing anyone, right now he needed her. He assured himself it was purely physical.
He saw something over Sofie’s shoulder and undid his seatbelt and held out a hand. He was done with this discussion. ‘Come here.’
Pink came into her cheeks. She darted a look up the cabin towards where the staff were. ‘But I’m not allowed to move around, am I?’
‘You’re allowed to do whatever you want. This is my plane. We’re not bound by normal rules here.’
Still looking endearingly uncertain, Sofie undid her belt and let Achilles take her hand. He tugged her out of her seat and over to him, so that she fell with a soft oof into his lap, all tantalising curves and silky hair. Smelling of roses and musk. Wholesome. His body reacted to hers instantly in a very unwholesome way.
He turned her towards the window and put his arms around her, feeling the weight of her full breasts close enough to cup in his palms if he chose to. He heard the change in her breathing. More rapid. He lamented the fact that it was a short flight, otherwise he knew exactly where they would be.
He kept his hands off her breasts and said, ‘Look down there.’
She did, and he heard her awed intake of breath. ‘That’s the Thames and the London Eye...and Big Ben and Buckingham Palace!’ She turned her head to Achilles. ‘Have you ever been to the palace?’
‘A couple of times.’
Sofie rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, only a couple of times?’
Achilles smiled, automatically relishing the thought of Sofie’s reaction if he was to take her to a place like that. He shifted slightly so she fell into his lap a little more, where she would be in no doubt as to her effect on him.
Her eyes widened and she said, ‘Oh.’
‘Oh, indeed. We have just a minute or so.’
‘For what?’ She was breathless.
‘For this.’ Achilles funnelled his fingers into her hair and pulled her head down, capturing her soft mouth with his. She opened without hesitation, allowing him access to all that sweetness. A sweetness that made his blood go on fire.
Only when the sound of a discreet cough managed to break through the heat haze in his brain did he disengage and pull back. Sofie’s eyes were still closed. Her mouth swollen. Achilles wanted to snarl at the air steward who said officiously, ‘Coming in to land, sir. You need to put on your seatbelts.’
Sofie’s eyes snapped open and she scrambled out of Achilles’s lap, bundling herself back into her seat and doing up her belt, face bright pink, hair mussed. She was adorable. And she was his—for as long as he wanted her.
Sofie was still mortified when they reached Achilles’s house in the centre of London. She’d got so caught up in his kiss that she hadn’t even noticed the steward trying to get their attention. Achilles had been totally unfazed, of course. Smiling sexily at Sofie’s embarrassment. She’d just scowled at him, piqued that he’d managed to eclipse the fact that she was on a private jet.
They’d landed in a small airfield and had been met by another sleek SUV with tinted windows. The driver had whisked them straight into the city, to an area of wide leafy streets with huge white houses, one of which belonged to Achilles.
They’d been admitted into an impressive marble foyer by a uniformed woman around Sofie’s age just seconds ago. Achilles’s cell phone had rung and he’d looked at the screen before making a face and saying, ‘I’m sorry but I have to take this call. Céline will show you around.’
Sofie had watched him walk away, filled with a kind of panic at being left alone, but then she’d realised she was also glad to have a little respite from his far too distracting presence.
And now, as she followed Céline around the house, she was relieved that she was alone—because she really didn’t want him to witness her reaction.
It was like something from an interiors magazine. A very exclusive designer interiors magazine. Everything was in muted colours. Sleek lines. A careful juxtaposition of classic décor befitting the age of the house alongside modern art on the walls.
She knocked her hip against a table and what looked like a Ming vase wobbled precariously. Sofie’s heart almost leapt out of her chest as she put her hands out to steady the vase.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Céline airily.
