How it would feel to lose her.
How it would feel not to have her in his life any more.
He hadn’t been able to get it out of his head.
And now he knew how bleak it actually was.
No light—just sounds. Even his Moscow apartment felt empty.
He’d literally built a fortress inside him. It was like the one he had taken Gigi to, but there was no illumination at the top of the tower that was his life. There was no moon and stars to gaze up at from their bed.
There was only fear and paranoia and the sound of his stepfather’s fist banging on the door.
Two years ago Khaled had built up the interior of his real fortress in tandem with an architect and a designer. Made of Balkar stone, it had been standing for eight centuries against the immensity of the mountain. He’d known what he needed—space and light and warmth—two years before he had first laid eyes on Gigi Valente.
Khaled suspected that from the moment he’d looked up and caught his first glimpse of a bright-haired alluring fairy he’d known he’d been laying the ground for her. He’d won her cabaret in a lucky hand of poker. If that wasn’t fate he didn’t know what was.
She’d tumbled into his life and he should have caught her.
* * *
The next morning brought him the mother of all headaches—a sort of drilling in his skull that he endured stoically because he deserved every bit of suffering he could visit upon himself.
He showered and shaved and put on a suit.
He had to get her back. But first he needed a plan.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GIGI’S SKIN FELT CLAMMY, her limbs weak, as she stumbled into Arrivals at Orly after several hours in the air.
Probably the flu, she decided dully.
She saw Lulu coming towards her. She looked like a snowman in a white puffy jacket. Only Lulu could look attractive in that much puff. Pink fur framed her face and her dark curls were frothing about merrily. Her smile faded as she took in Gigi’s appearance.
I must look awful, thought Gigi tiredly.
‘Oh, God,’ said Lulu, stopping a few feet in front of her, ‘what have I done?’
‘I don’t know,’ she whispered hoarsely, ‘but can we save it for later?’
Her best friend took charge as only Lulu could, nabbing them a cab immediately as several drivers swarmed Lulu’s barely raised hand.
Gigi laid her head in Lulu’s lap as the taxi took off.
‘Are you sure it’s flu?’ Lulu was asking anxiously.
‘That or travel sickness. Let me sleep, Lu. I feel so tired.’
She stirred some time after they’d hit the stop-start traffic of inner Paris.
As the taxi climbed the hill Gigi wound down the window.
‘Stop here,’ she told the driver.
‘What are you doing?’ Lulu called after her.
Gigi staggered from the cab and made her way to the central strip. She stood there staring up at L’Oiseau Bleu. Sure enough, it was boarded up.
A top-tier architectural restoration firm responsible for many sites around the city had its signage plastered everywhere.
Lulu reached her side and hovered.
‘Don’t hate me, Gigi. I didn’t tell you that part because I wanted you to come home. I know I was wrong. But I was scared something would happen to you.’
When Gigi didn’t answer Lulu sniffled.
‘The rumour is he’s put up fifteen million euros.’
Gigi shook her head.
‘Please forgive me, Gigi.’ Lulu began to sob. ‘I didn’t realise.’
Struggling out of the grip of her depression, Gigi turned to her friend. ‘What didn’t you realise?’
‘That you love him.’
It moved through her like sunlight.
‘Well, of course I love him, you eejit—I loved him from the moment he washed my feet!’
Lulu was still crying in earnest, and Gigi wrapped her arms around her best friend’s shoulders.
‘I didn’t come home because he shut the Bluebird down, Lu. I came home because he’s given me a job.’
Lulu gave a sniff. ‘What sort of job?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘You’re talking to the new manager of L’Oiseau Bleu.’
Lulu dropped her handbag. ‘You’re the what?’
Despite everything. Gigi found it in herself to laugh—even if it was a watery one. She bent down and handed Lulu’s bag to her.
‘Oh, Lord, if even you don’t believe it I haven’t got a chance with anyone else.’