Megan Cole - Riches - Snog, Steal and Burn

The seat belt lights flashed off and the captain’s deep voice came back. ‘We’ve just reached our cruising height of 29,000 feet, the weather ahead looks to be good with a little patch of turbulence over the Atlantic. I’ll come back to you a bit further into the journey but in the meantime sit back, relax and enjoy the flight.’

Celine heard the chink of glasses from the galley as the cabin crew got the drinks ready. Suddenly she felt overwhelmed by exhaustion. She reached for the sleep mask and put it on, praying for oblivion.

‘Hi there.’

The voice sounded miles away. Celine had been in the middle of this really weird dream where her parents had been stuck down a mine-shift trying to escape a Samurai-sword-wielding Mrs Gonzales. As she came round, the eye-mask felt wet for some reason. Celine touched it and realised she’d been crying in her sleep.

She hastily wiped her cheeks and turned away. Hoping whoever it was would get the message.

‘I’m Remy.’

The voice was French and male. God. This was all she needed, some fat balding businessman trying it on with her. Celine lifted the mask and was about to tell him where to go when a smouldering pair of brown eyes stopped her dead.

‘Hello,’ the man said. He looked like a manga warrior, all silky black hair, tanned skin and cheekbones you could cut your finger on.

In short, seriously hot.

He was also wearing a D&G blazer, totally that season. Celine could tell by the collar.

‘I didn’t wake you, did I?’ He smiled, showing perfect white teeth. ‘I’ve just been given a complimentary bottle of champagne and I’d prefer to share it with someone.’

‘Uh, OK,’ Celine answered in French. She rubbed her eyes. ‘How long have I been asleep for?’

‘About three hours,’ the man said. He looked in his mid- twenties. ‘Not that I’ve been stalking you or anything, but it’s not exactly busy in here.’ He stuck his hand out, accessorised with a cool silver thumb ring. ‘I’m Remy Chevalier.’

‘Celine.’

‘Your place or mine?’

‘Excuse me?’

He laughed. ‘I mean, where do you want to drink the champagne? I could come and sit up here.’ Celine needed to stretch her legs. ‘Why don’t we hit the bar?’

Ten minutes later they were already on their second glass. Celine had a sudden urge to get wasted. Forget about everything for a while. It helped that Remy’s arm was brushing hers at this moment, sending little thrills through her body. He was even better with the blazer off. Under his tailored black shirt Celine could make out a ripped body. Remy probably did loads of martial arts or something - he looked like that kind of guy.

Right now, Remy was telling her about his job. Fashion buyer at Selfridges. ‘This is my fourth flight this week,’ he said. ‘I’ve just been in Buenos Aires having meetings.’

‘That is so weird!’ Celine said. ‘You know, I want to be a fashion designer.’

Remy took in the studded black T-shirt and cropped leather trousers. ‘I thought you worked in the industry already, to be honest. I love what you’re doing with the whole punk thing going on at the moment.’ He touched the safety pin necklace round her neck. ‘Nice touch.’

Celine’s skin had prickled nicely at the gesture. ‘I’ve got some drawings with me actually. I’d love you to look at them.’

‘Sure, I’d be happy to.’

Celine went to retrieve her sketchpad from her bag. By the time she’d got back, Remy had already ordered another bottle of Moet from the barman.

‘Here you go.’ She handed the pad to him and sat down again.

Remy put his glass down and started flipping through. ‘Wow, Celine. These are really good.’

‘Really?’ Celine knew she was good, but it was amazing to get an expert’s opinion.

‘Completely. Your style is unique.’ He stopped at a drawing of a tuxedo with huge embroidered shoulders. ‘I love this, the detailing is exquisite.’ Remy glanced up. ‘I could have a word with my boss. You never know.’

Celine couldn’t believe it. ‘Really?’

‘Really’ Remy said. ‘I’ll give you my card.’

He got one out of his wallet and handed it to her. Celine looked at the familiar Selfridges logo. ‘Remy Chevalier, Assistant Fashion Buyer,’ she read. ‘Very nice.’

‘It’s not a bad job.’ Remy clinked his glass against hers. ‘You get to meet lots of interesting people.’

Was that a come on? Celine looked at Remy’s full lips. She was imagining kissing them when she realised he was saying something.

‘Where do you come from?

‘Oh… er… Back there. Buenos Aires.’

Remy looked surprised. ‘You’re Argentinean?’

‘Yup.’

‘Wow, your accent is flawless. I would have thought you were French.’

Celine shrugged. ‘Languages are one of my many talents.’

‘I imagine a girl like you has lots of talents.’ He was definitely flirting.

She gave a saucy little grin. ‘You’ll have to wait and see.’

The moment was severed as the barman came up and refilled their glasses. Remy settled himself on his stool. ‘I’ve told you all about myself and I know little about you, Celine, other than your interest in fashion. What are you in London for, business or pleasure?’

She knew she wouldn’t be allowed to forget for long. ‘Neither.’

Remy saw her face change. ‘I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘It’s OK.’ Celine fiddled with the flute of her wine glass. ‘Remy, can I tell you something?’

‘Of course.’

She’d not told anyone about the purpose of her trip, but Celine suddenly had a desperate need to unburden herself. Besides, it wasn’t as if Remy knew anything about it. I hardly know what’s going on myself.

She put her champagne flute down. ‘Back in a minute.’

Celine went back to her bag and returned this time with a thick black envelope.

‘What’s that?’ Remy said.

‘I need to tell you the story first.’ Celine paused. ‘My surname is Van Der Berg, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it?’

He shook his head helplessly. ‘Sorry, no.’

‘I wouldn’t really expect you to. All you need to know is that they’re really famous archaeologists.’

Remy’s eyes widened. ‘Like Indiana Jones?’

‘Not exactly.’ Why did everyone think that? ‘Anyway, six weeks ago they went off on this dig. In Tibet.’ Celine sighed. ‘At least they told me it was Tibet but then it turned out it was actually Kashmir, and they’d been kidnapped by rebels.’

‘Oh my God.’ Remy looked shocked. ‘That’s terrible. And you’ve heard nothing from them since?’

‘Nothing.’ Despite all the military troops apparently combing the area. Celine was trying to stay on the positive side. She had to.

‘Why were they kidnapped? Do these people want a ransom? I read something in the news about a similar story once.’

‘I don’t know. Anyway, as you can imagine life hasn’t been that great recently.’ She managed a tight smile. ‘I’m meant to sit around and do nothing while half the Indian army are out looking for them. But three days ago, this letter came.’

She opened the envelope and took out a piece of black paper with swirly gold writing across it.

1st July

Cadwallader House

Nr Southrop

Gloucestershire

England

Your parents’ fate is in your hands. A meeting will take place at the above address on the 21st July at 10 a.m.

I suggest you cancel your plans for the rest of the summer.

Tell no one.

A Friend.

Remy frowned. ‘That’s very cloak and dagger.’