Sidonie was itching to ask him why he’d turned his back on his inheritance, but just then the stewardess turned up with a trolley, smiling winsomely at Alexio. Sidonie felt the most bizarre rise of something hot and visceral. Possessiveness. It shocked her so much that she shrank back.
Her sweatshirt felt hot and constricting, even more so now, and Sidonie longed to feel cool. While Alexio was distracted, ordering some coffee from the woman, Sidonie whipped it over her head—only to emerge seconds later to find two pairs of eyes on her. The distinctly cold blue of the stewardess and a green gaze, intent and disturbing.
‘What...?’ She looked from Alexio to the woman, who now spoke to her in tones even cooler than her arctic gaze.
‘Would you like some tea or coffee, madam?’
In fluent French Sidonie replied that she would love some tea. She could sense the small smile playing around Alexio’s mouth without even looking. Her skin prickled as she put down her table and accepted the steaming tea. She felt exposed now, in her loose singlet top, even though it was layered over another one.
Before she could reach for her purse Alexio had paid for her drink as well as his. Not a welcome move, according to the pursed lips of the stewardess who moved on with barely disguised huffiness.
Alexio seemed oblivious, though.
‘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.’
‘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?’