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‘Alejandro?’
She looked as if she was seeing a ghost and it occurred to him that he should have rung. But it hadn’t been common sense that had seen him walk out of a sponsor’s event in Connecticut and take a flight direct to Paris this morning. It had been the certainty that if he didn’t claim her now she would never be his.
‘Lulu.’ His usual smooth charm with the female sex had deserted him and he was lost for words.
She looked so delicate—nothing like the determined and robust picture she’d built for him over the phone.
Because she’d rung him to confirm that she wasn’t pregnant.
He’d had a moment when disappointment had bloomed so hard and fast in his chest he hadn’t been able to speak.
She’d repeated his name and he’d found the appropriate words—it was good news…she must be relieved—and said he wanted to come and see her.
She hadn’t spoken again, and it had been the longest moment, stretching between them across continents.
He had been in London, she here in Paris. Obviously in this depressing-looking little flat.
‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea,’ she’d said at last, in a small voice.
He hadn’t pushed then, because he’d learned not to push. It was why he had never made an effort to be in his sisters’ lives.
He’d kept thinking about what Lulu had said about loving his sisters, about trusting them. That was why a f
ew weeks ago he’d invited the girls to join him in London. It had been a good weekend—catching up, sharing news. And he was currently drawing up a contract to give the girls equal shares in Luna Plateada. It was something long overdue.
‘What are you doing here?’ Lulu said now, her eyes fixed on his.
Good question. He should have been here six weeks ago. Instead he’d been touring with the team. Going to bed at night at ten, getting up before dawn, blocking what was standing in front of him now from his mind. He’d been gently mocked by a couple of his teammates and friends for eschewing the nightlife that went along with a tour. He’d had no interest in other women.
He was looking at the reason why.
‘Are you free for dinner?’
She looked flummoxed. ‘I have a show tonight, I’m not off until after eleven.’
No other man, then. He could feel the knot of tension he’d carried in his gut these past weeks easing.
Or at least not tonight. Tomorrow—who knew? Paris was a big city. He could imagine hundreds of worthy men lining up to take her out to dinner, to set aside the doubts and fears he’d held on to too long. One of those men would put a ring on her finger.
‘I’ll pick you up.’
‘I don’t know, Alejandro…’ she said slowly.
‘You’re so busy with this new life of yours you can’t date?’
She moistened her lips, widened her eyes slightly. ‘Is this a date?’
‘What else would it be?’
‘You want to date me?’
‘Indisputably.’
She hesitated. ‘Just because you’re in Paris tonight?’
He knew then he had a lot to prove. ‘No, amorcito, I’m here because you’re in Paris.’
*
