Kept at the Argentine's Command

‘Busy,’ she said, a little astonished by her own boldness.

‘Not as busy as you imagine, querida,’ he drawled, with a faint hint of a smile, and Lulu suddenly couldn’t hear above the thundering of her pulse.

She hadn’t done the prep for this. Being interested in a man, flirting, and all the while wondering what he really thought of her.

Not much, she suspected.

‘We have an internationally renowned breeding programme on the estancia,’ he went on.

Just when she thought she had the measure of him he got more impressive.

‘It’s how I got to know Khaled—sourcing Kabardian stock in the Caucasus a few years ago. We got tight.’

Lulu didn’t want to talk about Khaled Kitaev. But she realised she’d stumbled into something she’d heard about from the other girls at the cabaret. Talk to a man about what fascinates him and he’ll think you’re riveting.

‘So you’re the best friend,’ he said, immediately confounding her expectation that he would only want to talk about himself.

‘Pardon?’

‘Of Gigi. You were flatmates? Was that the set-up?’

Disconcerted that he knew that much about her, Lulu wondered a little uneasily what else Khaled and Gigi had told him. Nothing, she decided. They would have told him nothing.

‘We auditioned for the Bluebirds at the same time,’ she explained self-consciously, ‘and Gigi was looking for a flat. My parents had arranged one for me in a nice neighbourhood, so she moved in.’

She glanced up at his dry chuckle.

‘What is so funny? You think my parents shouldn’t help pay my rent? Didn’t your parents help you out when you got started in life?’

‘My parents just got in the way, frankly, querida, and no, they didn’t. Relax—I’m not judging.’

Lulu narrowed her eyes on the faint amusement that danced around his wide, disturbingly sensual mouth.

He was judging.

She wondered what he’d say if he knew that in addition to living in her beautiful flat, owned by her parents, she was driven everywhere by her mother or her stepfather’s driver, and her bills were often met by her parents. It was all part of the highly stratified life put in place for her when she was eighteen, to cushion her anxieties. What would he think of her if he knew she was a walking, talking failure at the game of life?

‘So it’s just you in the parents-endorsed flat nowadays?’

‘Yes,’ she said slowly, not sure where this was going.

‘Is this why you resent him?’

‘Who?’

‘Khaled. Gigi’s done well for herself.’

A cold feeling pooled in Lulu’s belly and a hot feeling flashed up through her. What did he mean? What was he implying?

‘I do not resent him. Who told you that? I’m very happy for Gigi.’ She was aware she had raised her voice. She never raised her voice. ‘And what do you mean, she’s done well for herself?’

‘He’s writing her some pretty big cheques.’

Lulu almost choked. ‘Excuse me? Gigi is not marrying Khaled for his money!’

‘I’m aware of that. I was talking about you.’

‘Me?’ she spluttered. ‘I don’t want Khaled’s money!’ She sucked in a breath. ‘Do you mean am I looking for a billionaire of my own?’