Page 12 of Madam Alana

“Christophe!” A young man in his late twenties cheered whenwe entered. “When did you get into town?” Heapproached,arms open wide in greeting.

“Bobby!” My husband hugged the man outright, clapping him onthe back as though they’d been friends for years. Perhaps they had.

“Just last night,” Christophe answered as he turned to me.“I want you to meet my wife, Alana.”

“Wife?” The man grinned and reached a hand out to me.“Pleasure to meet you.”

I shook his hand swiftly and then silently stood, lettingthem catch up.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Bobby took in our wedding attire. “Ididn’t know if you had marriage in you!”

Christophe shrugged. “Got married tonight in fact. Spur ofthe moment thing. When you know, you know,” he answered, then put his armaround my shoulders and tucked me to his side rather protectively.Surprisingly, I felt safer in his arms than I had moments ago.Actually, Ifelt more protected within his hold than I hadin years.

There was something to be said about having your person. Theone who made you feel safe. It was just that my person had always been Celine.My stomach tightened with worry for my friend. I hoped with my entire beingthat she was being treated as well as I was. Especially after I’d heard thosenasty things the man who bid on her had said earlier at the auction.

“I can relate. I fell all over myself in love with my wifewhen we met. And now we’re planning to try for a baby.”

“Bravo! I wish you the best of luck growing your family.Will you plan to bring your child into the business?” Christophe gesturedaround the restaurant.

“God willing,” Bobby said with ecstatic emphasis. “Come,come! I’ve got my best table available in the back with a view of our courtyardand added privacy for VIPs.” He snapped his fingers to gain someone’s attentionfrom across the room who was pouring drinks at a bar. “A bottle of our bestchampagne for the happy couple,” he called out.

“You are too kind, my friend.Merci.” Christophethanked him, holding me close as we followed the man, who I gathered was theowner, to the table.

“She is very beautiful,” the man said, his voice low as hedipped his head toward Christophe while I scooted along the curved seat of theprivate booth.

“I have met none even close to my wife,” Christophe boastedout loud while he sat, making sure his body was flush with my own, his long armresting on the back of the seat behind me so that I was once more hugged to hisside.

“Here are the menus, but I would be honored to craft awedding dinner fit for royalty.” Bobby lifted his chin and bowed regally.

Christophe looked to me for a decision—something I hadn’texpected. “Would you like that, Alana? To have the owner and head chef surpriseus with our first meal as a married couple?”

I had zero dislikes when it came to food. When you werepoor, often going days without eating, a three-day-old, half-eaten hamburgerplucked from the garbage behind a restaurant was a great find. A uniquelycatered meal by an Italian chef who owned and operated his own business…a boon.I’d never turn down such an opportunity.

“Thank you. I’m delighted to accept such a generous offer,”I smiled.

“Fantastic!”

A woman from the bar behind him approached, carrying abottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two crystal flutes on a tray. Bobbyset the glasses before us and poured them half full. “I shall return soon withthe first course,” he stated and then was off, disappearing behind a set ofdouble doors.

Christophe pressed a glass into my hands and held his aloft.“To years of wedded bliss.”

My heart beat wildly in my chest as I lifted the glass.“Wedded bliss.” I clinked his with mine, then stared into his swirling hazeleyes as I sipped.

He drank the entire glass, then refilled his. “Okay,cheri. Tell me everything there is to know aboutyou. And don’t leave a single detail out.” He took my hand and kissed myfingertips, waiting patiently for me to respond with my life’s story.

Only he didn’t know that my story was not a pretty one. Itwasn’t even a happy one. There were moments of good, more of bad, but mostly mylife had consisted of trying to simply exist in a world where I wasn’t seen as importantor worthy. Not by my mother, my real father, the orphanage, or any of thehorrible people I’d met over the years. Not until Celine had I felt evenremotely human.

I slowly licked my lips, trying to buy time. “What, um, doyou want to know?” I tried to narrow down his request. The last thing I wantedto do was anger my new husband by sharing the wrong things. People didn’t wantto know about another’s struggles and sacrifices. At least they hadn’t when itcame to me. Aside from Celine. We knew everything about one another, but thathad been earned over time and through shared experiences. I wasn’t about to layout my history for a man I’d only known for a couple of hours, lest he want togive me back to Angus. I didn’t want him to worry I would be too much work forhim. I was still uncertain that he wouldn’t ask for a refund.

“Start with your family history,” Christophe stated.

“Well, I’m originally from South Korea, though my ethnicityis half South Korean, half Irish and German.”

“Beautiful combination with a stunning result.” He reachedout and ran a hand down the back of my hair as though I was precious, somethingto be fawned over. I didn’t understand it, but I wasn’t going to deter him fromthinking otherwise.

“My mother abandoned me when I was twelve to an all-girlsorphanage. Then shortly after the orphanage was taken over by the government, Iended up in New York City. A peace mission of sorts, I think. I don’t know allthe details as I was young and terrified, and no one shared the plan with us.However, I had no other place to go. I was handed a passport with my name andpicture on it and followed the line of children where we were told to go. Wewere refugees once we arrived in the States and, uh…”

Christophe frowned deeply, the first I’d seen him lookupset.

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