When Christakos Meets His Match (Blood Brothers 2)

Sidonie cut her off before she could work herself up again and behind her the tall, dark shadow melted away, unnoticed.

‘Jojo, don’t talk about this to anyone again—and if Marcel says anything just know that you have nothing to worry about.’

Sidonie felt awful, lying like this, but she knew that her physical presence would reassure her aunt when she got back to Paris. She could then tell her that something had happened with the ‘boyfriend’. The idea was laughable. Alexio was no boyfriend.

‘Oh, Sidonie...is he handsome?’

Sidonie felt ashamed, but she was relieved to hear her aunt’s natural effervescence return—she loved stories about people meeting and falling in love. Sidonie tried to gloss over the details about Alexio as much as possible, and before her aunt terminated the conversation she made sure to have a chat with one of the supervisors, to warn them that she was particularly vulnerable at the moment. She castigated herself for not thinking of doing it before the holiday.

When she put her phone down she felt drained, but at least happier that Tante Josephine should be okay until the end of her holiday. The supervisor had promised to keep a close watch over her.

Sidonie turned round and her eyes widened when she saw the tall figure of Alexio, standing with his back to her at the railing of the terrace outside. He was dressed in faded jeans and a T-shirt. That feeling of foreboding was back but Sidonie tried to shake it off. And also the sudden fear that he might have heard some of her conversation.

She padded out on bare feet and went to stand beside Alexio at the railing. He didn’t look at her. Sidonie forced her voice to be bright. ‘Hey, you...I was wondering where you’d got to.’

* * *

Alexio was trying to hold in the cold rage that had filled his belly when he’d overheard her poisonous words: ‘He’s crazy about me...he’ll take care of things...’

Here was the very unpalatable proof that his solicitor had been right to make Alexio question why Sidonie hadn’t told him about this before.

Forcing his voice to sound neutral, he asked, ‘Who were you on the phone to just now?’

He couldn’t look at her. His hands tightened on the railings.

Sidonie was evasive. ‘Er...just my aunt. She’s away at the moment, on holiday...’

Alexio felt a hard weight settle into his belly. Everything from the moment he’d met her unspooled like a bad film in his mind. All the little moments when she’d appeared shy, naïve, mocked him now.

So this was how she was going to do it: she was going to bide her time, wait to catch him in a weak moment and then launch into her sob story, seducing money out of him. And maybe even more. Maybe he’d be so weak by then he’d offer to buy her a place, set up her and her aunt completely? He felt dizzy at the thought.

He thought of how weak he’d felt in the aftermath of their lovemaking—how he’d blithely allowed himself to spill his guts, how he’d almost spilled more, telling her everything. How close he’d come to making a complete fool of himself.

Thank goodness he’d had the sense to investigate her. When he thought of how guilty he’d felt to have instigated such a thing, the conversation he’d heard just now taunted him. Where had his cynical shell gone?

Sidonie touched his arm. ‘What is it, Alexio? You’re scaring me.’

Alexio jerked his arm from her as if burnt and stepped back, finally looking at her. He saw her go pale and welcomed it. He couldn’t hide his disgust and despised the way his body reacted to seeing her in short shorts and that sexy halterneck top.

‘You really think I’m that stupid?’ he sneered.

Sidonie looked at him and blinked. He could see something like fear flash in her eyes.

‘What did you hear?’

Alexio felt murderous now, because her guilt was obvious.

‘Enough,’ he spat out. ‘Enough to know that you and your aunt think that you can use me to clear your debts.’

Sidonie just stood there, looking a little shell-shocked. No doubt because she’d been found out.

She said faintly, ‘You speak French.’

‘Of course I speak French—along with two or three other European languages.’

He was dismissive.

&nbs