“A tour?” She eyed him, amused, a playful smile on her lips. “What for?”

“I can show you the cockpit and” his eyes flashed, “the stateroom.” He ended in a husky voice, “It’s quite comfortable.”

Sophia laughed to hide her embarrassment, “No, thank you. I’m good here.”

He cocked one eyebrow at her, but said nothing more, easing his six foot three stature on the seat beside Leonard.

The flight attendant served the water and a tomato juice for Ethan, put some mixed nuts and canapés on the table between them, and vanished from the cabin. The captain announced takeoff. It was smooth and elegant.

“Portuguese, aren’t you?” Ethan said with sureness, starting the conversation.

She laughed, shaking her head.

“No?” He was puzzled, “But your passport… Your answer to the officer…”

“So?” She raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

Sophia could see that Leonard, documents in front of him and head lowered, was paying attention to the conversation.

“All right,” she blurted. “Let’s see if you can guess where I’m from, one chance each.”

Instantly, Leonard’s head came up from the documents. “This isn’t fair. Three each.”

“Uh-uh. One.”

“Two,” said Ethan.

“Hmm. Five guesses,” she mused, “the odds might turn against me.”

“Five?”

“Yes, Ashford. You have already said she’s from Portugal.”

“Well, wasn’t it obvious?”

“Nothing is obvious in life, Mr. Ashford,” said Sophia smiling, with mischief. “But, let’s make a deal. If you don’t guess, and mind you, you’re not going to, I’ll give you one more chance each, agreed?”

“Agreed,” they said at the same time.

“And if we win, Sophia?” Ethan asked hoarsely. “What’s the prize? Willing to wager a dinner with the winner?”

“As I’m sure you’re not going to win, let’s settle for lunch, us three. No winner. Deal?”

“Deal. Please, call me Ethan.”

“Mr. Allenthorp, you’re willing to go first?”

She was having a good time. She couldn’t believe her luck. She had succeeded in going to Geneva, in a luxury private plane in the company of such interesting men.

“Okay. Let’s see… Not Portuguese. Although with a Portuguese passport. With clear Latin heritage. I would say you’re… Italian.”

“Good, Mr. Allenthorp. Very good. But, no!”

She turned to Ethan, waiting.

“Not Portuguese, not Italian. Very black hair, light skin, hazel almond eyes.” He narrowed his eyes and grinned at her, “Curvaceous, sexy.” He mused, “Hmm… I dare say Spanish.”

“Why! Thank you,” she giggled. “But you’re far from it, Mr. Ashford.”

“It’s Ethan. Drop the Mr. Ashford.”

“Told you that you wouldn’t guess.” She smiled. “One more chance each. Think carefully before you answer.”

“Not Portuguese, Italian, or Spanish. I’d bet that you’re not from the Nordic countries,” Leonard looked at her, assessing her face. “Not American, for sure.” He paused. Observed her again and whispered to himself, “No, it can’t be. Skin is too light. Speaks perfect English, without an accent.”

“Greek,” Ethan guessed and he shook his head to dislodge the beautiful face that appeared in his mind, making acid burn in his throat.

Sophia smiled, “I’m flattered. Greek women are known for their beauty. But, again no.” Her mouth twisted at the corners. “Mr. Allenthorp, you still have one more chance.”

“Please, just Leonard,” he waved his hand, distractedly, his eyebrows furrowed, immerse in thought.

“Come on, Allenthorp,” Ethan coached.

He wasn’t really sure, but he went for it any way, “Brazilian. Rio de Janeiro or São Paulo.”

She stared at him, openmouthed, “Why, yes. Exactly. Rio. How did you guess?”

“My dear, in my profession we have to be very attentive to detail. You hinted I made a point when I alleged Italian. You have a Portuguese passport. I started putting the pieces together. Where are there lots of Portuguese and Italians? South America. Brazil. You do look like a Carioca that has been out of the sun for a long time. Except you dress like a Paulista.”

“Impressive, Leonard, impressive,” she murmured. “Have you been to Brazil before?”

“Well, I have that advantage,” he smiled at her. “I’ve been there three times; first to Rio on my honeymoon and twice later to São Paulo for work. Why do you have a Portuguese passport?”

“Two of my grandparents are Portuguese and they’ve lived in Brazil since they were children. I also have Italian heritage somewhere on both my parents’ lines.”

“Your husband is also Brazilian?” Leonard asked.

Sophia blanched, her face turned ashen and her right hand shot to grab her upper left arm. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. When she opened them, the raw pain that simmered on them surprised the men.

She managed a weak smile, “I’m not married. Not anymore.” She took another deep breath, “I’m a widow.”

Leonard looked at her with sympathy in his eyes, “I’m sorry, Sophia, you look too young to be a widow. Nonetheless, you use a band on your left finger.”

She gave a strangled laugh, “Death doesn’t ask your age when it decides to strike.” She gave him a small smile, “As far as my marriage band is concerned, it helps keep men at bay.”

He looked at her for a few seconds. “Maybe.” Then returned his attention to the documents.

“So, Sophia, you live in Brazil?”

Grateful for the change in the conversation, she replied, “No, Mr. Ashford, I live in London.”

“We’ve returned to the Mr. Ashford thing, haven’t we?

“Sorry. Ethan,” she acquiesced.

“And where do you study?”

Sophia laughed out loud with such enthusiasm, that Ethan frowned at her.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m not a student anymore. Well, not an undergraduate student,” she smiled. “I’m Mr. Allenthorp’s colleague,” she jutted her chin at Leonard.

Again Leonard’s head came up, “Leonard. I think you’ve turned the tables, I’m at a disadvantage now.”

She laughed mischievously. “You see, Leonard, we have crossed paths in court.”

“Impossible. I would have remembered you.”

“Oh,” she mocked, “should I thank you for this remark?”

“Of course. You’re a beautiful woman.”

“Now, I’m offended.” She rolled her eyes. “I prefer to be remembered by my intelligence and wit.”

He laughed. “Sorry, Sophia.” He shuffled his documents together, giving up his work and putting it away so Ethan could close the table.

Ethan closed the table. Rearranging himself on the seat, he crossed his legs, the right ankle resting on the left knee.

“So, pray tell, where have you been spying on me?”

“Spying, Leonard? You don’t necessarily hide yourself. Besides, you’re a well-known lawyer. Your summations gather quite a crowd at court. And, well,” she grinned again, “I have taken my best students twice this year to make a study of your cases.”

“I’m flattered,” Leonard answered.

“Oh, no,” Ethan said sardonically, “a lawyer and a lecturer. Not possible, you don’t look older than… Hmm, nineteen.”

She merely smiled.

“Oh, come on. It’s not polite to ask a woman her age, but how old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Still very young. Where do you lecture?”

“Cambridge University.”

The men were flabbergasted.

“At Cambridge…” Leonard muttered. “What do you lecture?”

“I’m just a temporary lecturer in criminal law,” she dismissed her accomplishment. “When I took my master’s courses at Cambridge, I did pro bono work for women in Brazil and I’m also involved in it here.” She got excited, “You see, I was involved with the creation of a law to protect women from domestic violence perpetrated by their companions. I really loved the experience. After that, I dedicated myself to work with disadvantaged women who couldn’t defend themselves in court, not only in cases related to domestic violence. I think women still have a very hard time living with so many expectations. They dug a very deep hole for themselves and now they’re trying to sort things out…” she trailed off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you.”

“No,” interjected Leonard, “not at all. It is a very interesting subject.”

“When you speak of women you don’t include yourself,” Ethan remarked. “Why?”

“I’m privileged. I really don’t have any major problems,” she smiled and waved her long, elegant hand minimizing her difficulties. As if… “But pro bono doesn’t pay the bills, does it, Leonard?”

He laughed, “No. What is your specialty?”

“My specialty is oil; mergers and acquisitions, finance, corporate governance, you know…” she grinned. “This pays the bills. But I can’t let go of the pro bono work. It’s an obsession. So I volunteered as a helper.” Okay, it’s not entirely a lie. My foundation is kind of pro bono.

“And you do pro bono in family law, too?” Leonard asked.

“No. I abhor family law.”

“Don’t you like it? Why not?”

Her face hardened and her voice turned icy, “As a rule, people tend to forget the most important things in life when money, power and, lust are involved.”

Leonard tilted his head, “What do you consider the most important things in life?”

“Love, friendship, and family,” she narrowed her eyes to slits. “Wait! I’m missing one. Respect.”

“Beautiful words,” Leonard murmured.

“People with morals and principles don’t fight over peanuts and use children as cannon fodder. What I’ve seen at these kinds of proceedings makes me want to vomit,” she inhaled and exhaled slowly. “That is why I don’t do it.”

“You’re a dreamer, Sophia,” Ethan said cynically. “This is real life. Few have those scruples.”

“Have you been married or have children?”

“No. I don’t need to. I know what life and people are made of.”

“Well, it seems that I have been luckier than you,” she sneered. “My marriage was very, very happy - as were the marriages of my grandparents, my parents, my brother, and some friends. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. Real life.”

“You must have married very young,” Ethan murmured. “Maybe you had luck.”

“Possibly,” she examined her manicured long dark blood-red nails. “Maybe I had luck; maybe I’m a dreamer.” She smiled brightly at the men. “But if one stops believing in dreams, life loses its meaning, loses its colors.”

Ethan appraised Sophia, discreetly. She wore a turquoise and white Chanel suit. Underneath, the light-green silk shirt opened to show enticing cleavage. Her high-heel boots were marine leather.

He wanted her.

She’ll be mine. “Where are you staying in Geneva?”

“At a hotel,” she licked her lips.

And Ethan shifted in his seat. He cleared his throat, “And this hotel has a name?”

“You’re very curious, aren’t you, Ethan?” she chuckled.

Not normally. “Quite. Does it have a name or not?”

“Oui, bien sur, c’est le Domaine de Châteauvieux, un très petite hôtel au coeur de la campagne-” She thinned her lips and shook her head, her big white-gold diamond hoops swinging. “I’m, sorry, it’s…”

“I speak French perfectly. I understood you.” Such a beautiful accent, Sophia.

Sophia heard Leonard’s low chuckle and smiled too, “I bet. But I hate when I mix languages.”

“It happens,” Ethan set aside her fault.

“Not to me,” she grimaced. “Hasn’t it happened to you? Having to speak with two, three people of different nationalities at the same time?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.” Ethan frowned, “Maybe it has, yes.”

“How many languages do you speak?” Leonard asked.

“A few,” she dismissed it with a flick of her hand and crossed her long legs.

Ethan’s eyes followed the movement. “How many? Humor me,” he insisted.

“I’m fluent in six. You see, I’ve always had an aptness for languages, so it was quite easy to learn them. Besides, I studied at the British school and had a French governess. So Portuguese, English, and French are my native languages. The rest came easy. Italian and Spanish are very similar to Portuguese. German was a passion,” she shrugged, modestly. “How many do you speak?”

“You have me there. I only speak four: English, French, Italian, and Greek. I can understand and speak a little bit of Spanish, but I’m not fluent in it,” Ethan replied.

Sophia looked at Leonard waiting for his reply.

“Five: Italian, French, German, English, and Spanish. My mother’s Spanish; my father was English. You’re a great asset,” he raised an eyebrow, “interested in a partnership?”