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Khaled had bulldozed through it in the space of twenty-four hours and gone straight for the naked.
Although he was keeping his gaze manfully above her chin-line, which was making her feel marginally better.
‘I’ve had threats, Gigi—stupid, puerile threats—a follow-on from all this press coverage about your cabaret slipping into dangerous Russian hands.’
Those hands were currently distracting her by drawing the sides of the coat together to cover her properly.
‘You’ll have noticed, dushka, that you’re not the only person in Paris who doesn’t trust me.’
She did actually trust him—she just wasn’t very happy with him at the moment. But she wasn’t letting on, because clearly give him an inch and he’d take—well, take her offstage in the middle of a performance!
He was securing a couple of buttons on the coat. She could have done it herself, but neither of them seemed about to acknowledge this.
‘The media aren’t giving me much choice about how to handle your safety.’
‘My safety is none of your business,’ she grumbled.
A shiver of reaction shook her and he gave her arms a rub a little roughly, so that her teeth chattered.
‘Stop manhandling me,’ she snapped.
‘You are cold,’ he said, continuing to rub.
‘And whose fault is that? Stop shaking me about! I’m not a chew toy for you to play with.’
He stopped rubbing. ‘A what?’
She wasn’t sure why she’d said that—only he’d gone all physical, and a bit of her was enjoying it, which wasn’t right! ‘Coco has one,’ she mumbled, avoiding looking him in the eye. Then she ploughed on, ‘Look, I won’t go back onstage. Does that solve the problem?’
Gigi noticed that the lining of the coat still carried his body heat, and she was finding it unexpectedly comforting after her shock.
‘This is a start,’ he said, releasing her, and she could feel his gaze, dark and disturbing, on her skin. ‘And now you’re refraining from kicking me we can discuss this like rational human beings.’
‘I am rational,’ said Gigi promptly, pulling the folds of his coat up around her chin, teeth chattering, ‘and if you’ll take me home I would be most obliged.’
‘Don’t be na?ve. Paparazzi are camped outside your flat.’
‘My flat? How do you know that? How do they know my address?’
‘You gave those people on the Champs-élysées your name. I seem to remember you declaiming it like a town crier.’
Gigi instantly felt sick. He made it sound as if she was on the make.
She wasn’t her father—always on the sell, always doing something for himself at the expense of other people. Including her. She tried always to do the opposite. All she’d wanted was to promote the theatre and build up their audience. She’d thought he understood that.
He cut through her muddled thoughts.
‘You are going to need security for a few days.’
‘I can’t afford it.’
He looked at her as if she’d said something absurd. ‘Naturally you will share my security.’
It was ridiculous, but she was sitting down and her legs still felt wobbly.
‘How is that going to work?’ As she spoke she drew her long wobbly legs up onto the seat and under her, so she was more securely covered, and noticed that he noticed them on their ascent.
She tucked the coat more modestly around her and his gaze cut to hers. She was surprised to see a bit of colour riding his cheekbones.
She’d been virtually naked in his arms and he’d covered her up like something in storage—but flash him some thigh and he zeroed in on it with all the subtlety of...well, a man.
Gigi wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she discovered she no longer felt so diminished.
‘You will stay with me,’ he said, as if there could be no question about it.
The tension in the car was changing from anger and confusion to something more charged.
Given her experience with men was more of the duck and weave variety, not the fly-to-the-Bahamas-with-me-baby, Gigi wasn’t quite sure how to respond.
‘Won’t that just be playing up to this idea that we’re in some kind of nasty beneficial relationship?’
She blushed as she said it.
‘You’re blushing,’ he said, as if this were a wonder.
Gigi looked away. ‘I am not. It’s just hot in this coat.’
Which was when she noticed they seemed to have left the familiar arrondissements. There was less light and more lanes of traffic.
