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“I travel often for work,” he explained.
“Where?”
He guided her to a bank of two seats and gestured for her to take one. She did, curling her legs beneath her as his much larger frame occupied the seat to her right.
“All over. Throughout Europe, several times a week. To my brother in London, sometimes. And to our offices in Singapore and Sydney, perhaps monthly.”
“Wow.” Her eyes were huge. “That’s a head spinning schedule. Your body clock must be completely out of whack.”
He shrugged. “I sleep when I need to.”
“Do you all work in the business?”
“All?”
“Your brothers.”
“Yes.”
She frowned and he leaned closer, scanning her face. “That troubles you?”
“I just find it interesting. No one ever wanted to do anything else?”
It was his turn to look momentarily confused. Then, he shook his head. “Not that I know of.” A brief hesitation. “My brother Dimitrios is an excellent pianist. I have no doubt he could have pursued it professionally, if he’d been inclined.”
“He wasn’t?”
Leonidas pulled a face. “He hates to perform. He plays only for himself. We simply had the benefit of hearing him through the walls, as children.”
“I always wished I could play.”
“Did you ever learn?”
“No, but music means the world to me.” She paused a moment, wondering if what she was about to say was silly.
“Go on,” he urged, and somehow, without her realizing it, their faces had become close. She was leaning on the shared armrest, and his arm was along the back of her seat.
“When I do a routine, or even when I dance off the ice, I feel as though I’m a part of the music.” She shook her head in frustration. “It’s so hard to explain. I feel as though I’m a living breathing note, making another line of the music. I feel as though it’s in my blood and I can express another dimension to the melody, or experience it at least. It’s quite…transformative. For me.” She finished awkwardly, blinking down and focusing on the fabric that strained across his muscular thigh.
“For me, too.” His finger caught her chin, tilting her face towards his. That strange sensation in her gut tightened, and she found it hard to catch her breath. “When I watch you, it’s as though the world has begun to move differently. You have a gift. I would very much like to see you perform one day.”
One day.One daywas dangerous.One daywas everything. She bit down on her lower lip, troubled, worried, anxious, but she was saved from having to analyse those thoughts, by the appearance of the flight hostess. She carried a tray and passed drinks to them, then smiled politely. “I’ll serve your refreshments once we’ve reached cruising altitude. Is there anything else?”
Leonidas, distracted, gestured in the negative, and the attendant left.
Mila took a sip of water, served with ice and a slice of lime, then held the glass in her lap as the engines began to churn, faster and faster, louder, so the roar could be felt all through her body, and then, it was tearing over the tarmac, other planes visible through the windows, waiting their turn, as, she imagined, everyone always did for a Xenakis. It lifted off the ground with a familiar thud, and then smoothed out, so it was easy to put the funny feeling in her tummy down to the change in altitude.
“It’s only an hour’s flight to Athens, then a short speedboat ride to Porto Mezi.”
“Not easy to get to without a fleet of private transportation at your disposal.”
“No, by design.”
“Your family is reclusive,” she surmised.
“We value privacy.”
“For any reason?”
