He turned away and then turned back abruptly, his eyes dark. Something in his voice was a bit wild, but Sidonie was too traumatised to notice it.
‘Tell me...was it on the plane, when you knew who I was? Did you decide then to try and hook me by making me believe you were different from every other woman I’ve ever met?’
Sidonie just looked at him. Words of defence were stuck in her throat. She had no defence—not when this man had proved that he had suspected her of something long before he’d even had a reason to. And he still had no reason to. She had trusted him, blindly, right from the start, never suspecting for a moment how dark he was inside. How he could so easily condemn her.
She never wanted to see him again because he had just proved that she would never be free of the past. He had broken her heart into a million pieces and she’d never forgive herself for that weakness. Or him.
His condemnation would be her defence, so she said, ‘Yes. On the plane. As soon as I knew who you were.’
Alexio looked at her for a taut moment and then he turned and strode away, leaving her standing there. As soon as he was out of sight Sidonie blindly made her way into the en suite bathroom of the bedroom where they’d made love too many times to count and was violently ill.
Afterwards, when Alexio’s helicopter had left and she’d changed into her own clothes and packed her bag, Sidonie sat on a lounger outside with the glorious view unnoticed in front of her. She was still numb. Devoid of any substantial feeling. She knew it was the protection of shock.
One thing impinged, though: disgust at herself for having indulged in this fantasy. She’d wanted one night and had then grabbed for more... Had she on some level hoped that Alexio would want her for longer? Deeper? Had she ignored her own usually healthy self-protective cautious nature because she’d been blinded by opulence? The thought made her feel sick again.
Bitterly she surmised that she should have listened to him more closely when he’d told her his reasons for turning his back on his inheritance. He was driven and ruthless—had dashed his own father’s expectations and dreams to fuel his own desires.
She’d believed his reasons were justified when she’d heard them at first—she’d heard the way his voice had constricted when he’d talked about his father, as if even now he felt the unbearable yoke of expectation. She’d admired him.
But now she saw him for what he really was: an amoral, ambitious, greedy man who would step over his nearest and dearest to get ahead. She hadn’t stood a chance. He might have heard her damning conversation with her aunt, but he’d already investigated her at that stage and had clearly believed her worthy of judgement because of her mother’s criminal record.
Those two years of her mother’s incarceration were etched like an invisible tatoo into Sidonie’s skin. A stain of shame that would never be gone, but which had faded over time...until now.
Sidonie’s well-ingrained sense of responsibility rose up. She should never have indulged herself like this. She had her aunt to worry about now, and clearing the debts.
She heard a car pull up somewhere nearby. It would be the housekeeper’s husband. She stood up and tried not to let the emotion brewing within her break free. She couldn’t let it. She was afraid of its awesome power. Of how much it would tell her about a hurt that shouldn’t be so deep—not after just a few days with a man she hadn’t even known.
A man appeared, old and bent, with a weathered face and black eyes. His dour expression gave Sidonie some sense of relief. If he’d been kind she might have broken apart altogether. He took her bag and at the same time handed her a white envelope with nothing written on it.