When Christakos Meets His Match (Blood Brothers 2)

Before he did something to inadvertently demonstrate how off-centre she made him feel, Alexio tugged her towards the dining area, where a table had been laid for two, complete with lit candles. It was by the window, with a view of London lit up by night beyond the river and the bridge.

The chef’s assistant was setting out their starters and Alexio said, ‘Thanks, Jonathan. I think we can take it from here. Say thank you to Michel for me.’

The young man exited swiftly.

Alexio had done this many times before—for business meals in his apartment as well as for women—but tonight it felt different. Sidonie was looking at everything with such wide eyes.

‘I presumed you were joking earlier about being a vegetarian.’

Alexio lifted the platter’s lid to reveal confit duck dumplings and saw Sidonie’s eyes gleam with anticipation. It had a direct effect on his body, and he wondered if she would have that same hungry look when they made love.

She had the grace to glance at him sheepishly. ‘I had you figured for a chest-beating carnivore who would be horrified at the thought of watching me chew a lettuce leaf for half an hour.’

Alexio held Sidonie’s chair out for her so she could sit down, and said in a low, throaty voice as she did so, ‘I had a vegetarian option lined up just in case...but don’t you know by now that nothing you could have said would have put me off?’

He was rewarded by pink cheeks when he took his own seat opposite her. He raised his glass of white wine and she took hers. ‘Yiamas.’

Sidonie repeated the Greek phrase. They both took a sip of their drinks and Alexio dished out the starter.

* * *

‘Don’t you know by now that nothing you could have said would have put me off?’ Alexio’s softly delivered words still echoed in Sidonie’s head. The steel behind them...

He had just taken their dessert plates into the kitchen and Sidonie was standing on the small terrace which hugged the side of the building, leaning on the railing, with the Thames moving beneath her feet somewhere in the dark.

In all honesty she couldn’t have recalled, if asked, what they’d just eaten except to know that it had been exquisite. She’d been too mesmerised by her charismatic dinner companion and how easily the conversation had flowed. Like on the plane, once they’d started they hadn’t stopped. Every now and then a tiny jolt of electric shock had run through her at the realisation of where she was and with whom... She’d met him only hours before... She should be back in Dublin, reorganising her life...

She still wanted to cringe when she thought of the way Alexio had looked her up and down when she’d arrived downstairs in her jeans and T-shirt, acutely conscious of how tatty she must look. The fact that he was equally dressed down had been little comfort, because she’d almost melted on the spot at seeing him in the faded hip-hugging jeans and white shirt. He epitomised cool, laid-back elegance.

To give him credit, he hadn’t made her feel uncomfortable. Just hot and bothered...

She heard a noise in the kitchen and turned round to see Alexio putting plates in a dishwasher. She shook her head wryly. Who would have believed it?

She walked back in to help. He stood up tall.

‘Coffee? An after-dinner liqueur?’

Sidonie put the last plate in the dishwasher and closed the door. She’d made a decision during dinner—a momentous one. It had been helped by the direct way he’d informed her earlier that he wasn’t ‘into relationships’. Well, neither was she. Not when she faced such a huge upheaval in her life, and not when she had responsibilities. And certainly not when the man was Alexio Christakos and so far out of her league it wasn’t funny.

During dinner Sidonie had recalled the name of a favourite perfume of her mother’s: Ce Soir ou Jamais. Tonight or never. This evening felt all too ephemeral. She wanted to seize the moment, live it fully. She wanted this man with a hunger she knew was rare. Once in a lifetime.

She turned and put her hands behind her against the counter and looked up. Was she really going to do this? Her sex spasmed in response. Yes. She wanted one night with this man, just one night of decadent escapism, and then she would walk away knowing what it was like to be truly made love to.

Having no idea how to go about letting a man like Alexio know what she wanted, without declaring baldly that she wanted to have sex with him, Sidonie seized on an idea. ‘I’d like a liqueur, please...and did I mention that I’m a mean pool-player?’

Alexio went still and shook his head. ‘No, you did not. I believe we touched on many subjects over dinner, including favourite films and music, and you tried to trick me into telling you the secrets of my success, but there was no mention of your pool abilities.’

Sidonie bit back a grin. And a sigh. This man should come with a warning label: Approach with caution! You are liable to get burnt if you stand too close. It was too late for her. She would burn for ever in the tormenting hell of regret if she didn’t allow herself to indulge in this fantasy.

‘Well, I happened to be something of a local champion in college. And I would like to challenge you to a game, Mr Christakos.’

Alexio leant back against the opposite counter and crossed his arms. ‘Interesting, Miss Fitzgerald. Tell me...are there terms for this challenge?’

Sidonie crossed her arms too and tried to look mock serious—not as far out of her depth as she felt. ‘Of course. My terms are simple: whoever wins gets to decide what we do for the rest of the night.’

Sidonie’s heart was beating so hard now she felt light-headed. Alexio looked serious, but his eyes had darkened.

‘I take it that if you win your choice will be...?’