Kept at the Argentine's Command

He gave her an old-fashioned look.

‘I am not drunk. I have not been drinking.’

‘You can deny it if you want, querida. It doesn’t change the fact you were stumbling all over that flight, your words were a little slurry and you’ve just been sick.’

She looked at him in horror, her knuckles white around the bottle. ‘I wasn’t— That’s you— I mean, nobody else thought that—’

Lulu tried to control her shaking because it wasn’t helping her case.

‘Maybe I should just find a taxi,’ she said, deeply humiliated, and distressed as she sloshed some of the water on her skirt. Although getting out of this car was the last thing she felt up to doing. ‘This isn’t working for me and it’s clearly not working for you.’

‘Look,’ he said, keeping the car idling while he took the bottle from her hands, lidded it and tossed it onto the back seat. ‘In my experience nobody likes to be confronted with their behaviour while under the influence. You had a few drinks on the flight…they didn’t agree with you. I’m not judging.’

r /> ‘Yes, you are judging,’ she burst out unhappily. ‘And nobody thought I was drunk.’

‘No, probably not—they were too busy thinking what a pain in the arse you were to fly with.’

Her chin wobbled. ‘Do you get something out of insulting me?’

‘Sí, it takes the edge off.’

She stared at him. He’d silenced her. Good. The truth was she still looked very pale, and he didn’t want to argue with her any more.

‘If you must know,’ she said, clearly unable or unwilling to let this go, ‘I had some analgesics on the plane on an empty stomach and they disagreed with me. They’re to blame.’

Alejandro was ready to dismiss this out of hand, only then he remembered the medication he’d seen delivered to her.

‘Well, that was stupid,’ he said.

He ignored the wounded look on her face. She could save it. He’d been manipulated by women who made this one look like a rank amateur. Besides, he wasn’t playing Sir Galahad to her fair maiden. Been there, done that—had the divorce papers to prove it. The problem was she was already getting to him.

He swung the car out into the traffic. ‘Almost as stupid as not giving up your seat on the flight,’ he reiterated.

Lulu realised she was cornered. How on earth did she answer that?

‘It’s not your business,’ she muttered, looking away.

There was no way she could tell him that whatever had been in her stomach had ended up in the plane toilet, because that was going to lead to more questions.

Questions with answers that had nothing whatsoever to do with him.

It was her private business. Her mother had drummed that into her years ago.

‘If you weren’t drunk there’s nowhere to hide, querida. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. But you behaved like a spoilt brat. Forgive me if I choose to treat you like one.’

Lulu wanted to die of shame.

‘You’re an awful man,’ she muttered, ‘I hope we have nothing to do with each other this weekend at the castle.’

‘Sweetheart, you took the words out of my mouth.’

CHAPTER FOUR

THEY STOPPED TO fuel up the car after a couple of hours on the road. Lulu wound down her window and saw a newspaper headline behind the glass of the service station window: Celebrity Wedding. Oligarch Brings in Private Army of Security.

It was a little daunting to realise she was heading into all that.

The other daunting reality was striding back towards the car. His superbly fit and powerful frame was gloved in an understated but clearly expensive set of dark trousers and a navy shirt. Like a man who went on secret missions with the armed forces and climbed walls without ropes, just using his weapon of a body as all the equipment he required.