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No, he was here to enjoy the weekend. To watch his good friend make official the relationship that had intrigued Paris since the cabaret Khaled had won in a card game had hit the headlines and a red-haired showgirl had come into his life.
Alejandro had been at that game. He might have won that hand. He might have met that showgirl. But the one who swam to mind had glossy black curls and big brown eyes and the sweetest raspberry-tipped breasts.
He rubbed at his temples. It wasn’t just Lulu’s body that was playing havoc with his thoughts.
No, what really bothered him was the way she had felt, flopped in his arms as he carried her inside. She’d behaved so erratically this morning…as if she’d been struggling with something he hadn’t been able to see and then it had seemed to overwhelm her.
When her mother had intervened he’d felt aggravatingly powerless, and for a man who made sure he called the shots it had been an unsettling position to be in. But what right did he have to interfere? Why in the hell would he want to?
Lulu had made herself very clear on the subject. Besides, he knew well enough what happened when you went riding to a woman’s rescue.
The tension in him deepened.
‘So why aren’t you down there, mopping her brow?’
Khaled appeared to be enjoying this, and Alejandro found himself wanting to hit something. Probably not a good idea if it was the groom, a day before the wedding.
‘Her mother appears to have it covered.’
‘Probably a good thing. Gigi wouldn’t be happy with you making a move on her friend.’
Alejandro straightened up. ‘Why’s that?’
‘Lulu’s special.’ Khaled sipped his whisky, looking at home in this draughty pile of stone.
‘Special?’ Alejandro discovered his pulse was beating hard in his ears.
‘Sheltered, wrapped in cotton wool by her parents, not much idea of the real world. I doubt she’s ever had a boyfriend.’
The glass he held dropped through his fingers and smashed on the stone.
Khaled raised an eyebrow. ‘That answers that question. Man, you’d better hope Gigi doesn’t find out.’
*
‘He scooped you up and carried you inside…it was so romantic,’ enthused Trixie. ‘It was like something out of Gone with the Wind—you know, when Rhett carries Scarlett up those stairs.’
‘To force himself on her,’ scoffed Susie. ‘Yes, really romantic.’
‘Rubbish—no one forced himself on Scarlett,’ Trixie shot back. ‘Remember the smile she had on her face the next morning?’
Lulu wanted to die. She didn’t remember Alejandro carrying her inside. She only knew where she was now, as her mother’s face swam into view, and then she heard Gigi making everyone clear the room.
Fortunately that meant only Gigi heard her mother begin to cross-examine her about taking her sedatives and why she’d thought she was capable of flying alone in the first place.
The urge to scream at her mother was strong, held back by Gigi’s eyes telegraphing rescue over Félicienne’s narrow shoulder, and then her suggestion that the older woman might organise some tea while she and Lulu talked.
Gigi had always been able to manage her mother.
‘You’ll feel better when you’ve had a cup of tea,’ Gigi said gently, for Félicienne’s benefit.
The moment the door closed Lulu struggled upright.
‘I’m sorry, Gigi. I’ll do better.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Gigi took her hands. ‘You’re doing fine
.’
