Chapter 3
IDA
Okay, so I admit it, when I realised who my chatroom mate, RaffAlone, actually was and then had it confirmed that he was the real deal when we video-called, my heart did some excited little flips in my chest.
What were the odds of a guy I’ve been casually messaging with about computer games being a bloody billionaire? One I recognised, too, if only vaguely.
Virtually nil.
And I know what you must be thinking. It’s crazy to get on a plane to the other side of the world with a guy I only recently met online. I get it. I do.
But Raffa isn’t a stranger. We’ve been chatting in our DMs for a few weeks now and I feel like I know him. And I’ve done some recon and looked him up. There’s no mention of any worrying criminal behaviour or psychopathy.
In fact, everything I’ve read about him makes him sound like a really good guy. He’s well respected in the business world and the very few mentions of him on social media by the women he’s dated are kind and positive, if a little sad-sounding that he’s wedded to his career.
I remember, after reading a news piece a while back about him and his uni mates selling the HelSkel app, that I’d spent a good few minutes studying his face and thinking how attractive he was for a tech bro.
And, oh man, he’s even hotter in the flesh.
I wasn’t prepared for that.
I mean, we did that video call last night so I knew what he looked like in real life, but he’s much more attractive in person.
There’s something about him that hits me right in my happy places.
A certain kind of charisma that doesn’t translate in 2D.
But it’s very much in evidence in the here and now.
He’s taken the seat next to mine on the plane, though there’s an aisle in the middle of us, keeping a respectful distance between the seats.
I surreptitiously glance over at him to study his profile for a couple of seconds while he’s getting his laptop out of his bag.
Yep. He’s a looker all right, with dark, chocolate-brown hair worn long on top but kept swept back from his face, the waves tamed and sleek and giving off a vibe of soft control with an undercurrent of being on the edge of sexily dishevelled.
But it’s his eyes that really do it for me.
They’re the most brilliant green, so bright you can see them from across the room – as I did when I first walked into the airport lounge and felt my knees go a bit wobbly.
Unfortunately, from the guarded way he responded to my questions about how convincing we need to be as a couple, it seems he’s going to be a tough nut to get out of his shell. He seemed very keen to make it clear he’s not interested in turning this into something more real.
Not that I’m in the market for anything serious right now either.
I’m all about having fun.
It seems like the guy needs to loosen up a bit though. Perhaps this enforced holiday in the sun will end up being good for him.
If I can get him away from his laptop.
I’m already primed for the challenge of that.
He obviously works too hard; I can see it in his face.
He has a tenseness to his expression I’ve noticed in other workaholics.
And workaholism is the last thing I want in a boyfriend.
I had enough of dealing with that throughout my childhood with my absent bloody parents.
There’s no way I’m putting up with it in a serious life partner too.
And I meant it when I told him I’m not looking for love right now, anyway. Not when things are going so well for me professionally.
Speaking of which, this lucky connection, and the fun concept of being his fake date on a paradise island, could prove to be an amazing boost for my show and cement my career as a top HelSkel personality.
If I play this right.
The fact Raffa doesn’t know me from the app surprised me. I expected him to see through my no-effort appearance when we video-called and know immediately who I was and be kind of incredulous that he recognised me too.
But no.
It seems he’s too busy and important to be aware of how my show has blown-up on the platform in the last month or so.
I’m choosing not to hold that against him though. Talking to him anonymously in the chatroom while all my other lines of communication have been overwhelmingly flooded with spammy DMs or sycophantic pleas for connection has kept me sane over the last month.
It’s been a welcome calm amongst the storm of sudden internet fame that I – perhaps foolishly – hadn’t fully prepared myself for.
But I’m taking this chance meeting as serendipity and a sign that I need to make the most of this opportunity.
‘You okay there?’ Raffa asks, dragging me out of my thoughts and bringing it home to me that I’ve been staring at him for the last minute or so.
How embarrassing.
‘Yes! Fine. I’m totally fine,’ I say, flashing him a wide smile. ‘I was just thinking how lucky it was that I ended up talking to you online. Visiting the Maldives on a private plane was not on my bingo card this year.’
He smiles too. ‘Have you been there before?’
‘No. Never. I’ve always wanted to go though.’ I shift around in my seat to face him properly so I’m not cricking my neck.
‘I won’t lie, the lure of a free holiday on a tropical island obviously had something to do with my decision-making process to fake date you.
’ I flash him a cheeky grin. ‘I hear the islands might not be around for too much longer, what with the rising sea levels, so I’m really grateful for the opportunity to visit. ’
He leans a little closer and fixes me with his bright-eyed gaze, sending a shiver of awareness through me. ‘Well, I’m glad to hear it’s mutually beneficial. It’s actually one of the few countries I’ve not visited, so I’m excited to see it too.’
‘Really? Wow. So you’ve travelled a lot?’
‘Yeah. There were a few years between sixth form and university where I travelled and worked my way around the world.’
‘What kind of jobs did you do?’ I ask, intrigued.
‘All sorts. Bar work, farm work, admin, telesales. I even sold hats on the beach for a while. That was hard work, especially in the midday sun.’
‘So you’re a real Jack of all trades, huh?’
‘I’d like to think I’m multi-talented, yes,’ he says, with a twinkle in his eye.
The bottom drops out of my stomach as my dirty mind goes straight to all the sex-related things he’s probably really talented at too and I have to break eye contact and reach for the glass of champagne I was given by a smiling flight attendant the moment we sat down.
I’m not good at disguising my feelings, never have been. I blush really easily.
Raffa doesn’t seem to notice though, at least he doesn’t say anything, and when I put my glass back down after taking a big gulp of the fizzy liquid – making my eyes water in the process – and look at him again he’s staring down at his mobile phone.
‘It looks like I’ve missed a call from Darian,’ he says, frowning. ‘Oh well, he’ll just have to deal with any crisis without me.’
‘Darian’s your brother?’
‘Stepbrother, yeah.’
‘And he’s marrying Margot?’
‘Yeah. She’s great. You’ll like her. Everyone does.’
‘And what are your parents’ names?’
‘Good point. You should probably know these things before you meet them,’ Raffa says, slapping his hand gently against his forehead. ‘My dad’s name is Gianni and my stepmum is called Carrie.’
‘Gianni and Carrie. Darian and Margot. Right. Locking those names in.’
He smiles at me. ‘Again, thank you for doing this. It’s a lot, I know.’
‘My pleasure,’ I say, really meaning it. It’s not exactly going to be a hardship spending time with him. I already know we click personality-wise from our online chats and, as previously mentioned, he’s not exactly hard on the eye.
But more than that, I genuinely like him and want to help him out as a friend.
There’s a crackle, then the pilot’s voice comes over the tannoy telling us we’re about to take off and requesting that we please put on our seatbelts.
We both do as he asks and I stare out of the window as we taxi down the runway, then pick up speed and lift into the air, the ground falling away from us, making my stomach swoop with a mixture of nerves and excitement.
After what he’s told me, I’m completely intrigued by Raffa’s background, and very much looking forward to meeting this family he’s so keen to avoid being left alone with.
I hope I’ll be able to get some more information out of him about what’s gone down between them all.
I don’t want to put my foot in it and give anyone in the wedding party a bad impression of me.
Reputation is so important when you’re trying to build, then maintain, a fanbase online.
It’s way too easy to be cancelled now for a perceived bad attitude – particularly if you’re a woman.
And to be totally honest, I like to be liked.
We’ve not been in the air long before the flight attendant comes into the cabin and starts talking to us both about the food and drinks that they can offer us during the flight.
My stomach starts to rumble as she lists the amazing-sounding meals we’ll be able to choose from.
I ask her a couple of questions about the options available and when she finally goes away to fix us the drinks we’ve ordered, I notice Raffa has opened his laptop and is already typing fast onto the keyboard, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
I clear my throat, hoping to gently remind him that I’m here with him.
He glances at me distractedly, his mind clearly still on what he’s typing.
‘You okay there?’ he asks, but not with any real interest this time.
I open my mouth to continue with my questions, then decide right now is probably not the right time. So I say, ‘I’m good.’ And press my lips into a smile.