Page 27 of Madam Alana

“Thank you, Christophe. For…listening,” I whispered.

“Thank you, Alana, for trusting me. You won’t regret it.”

* * * *

I wore one of the three semi-nice dresses I owned. Since LasVegas was hot, I’d chosen one with spaghetti straps. It was white withpretty littleorange and red flowers throughout and it fellto my knees. The minute we entered the restaurant in the hotel, a tiny flurry ofcolor slammed into my body. Celine wrapped her arms around me and pressed herface to my neck.

“I’m so happy to see you!” Celine gushed, holding me in avise grip.

I patted her back and rocked her from side to side,squeezing her just as eagerly. We’d both made it to the third day after ourweddings and were already seeing one another. I glanced over at my husbandwhile I kept hugging my friend and mouthed, “Thank you,” to him.

He grinned and winked, then shook a blond man’s hand. Theman looked at least twenty years older than us. He was tall, with an athleticbuild reminding me of a swimmer, whereas Christophe had the body of a man whoworked with large weights on a regular basis, his arms and thighs packed withmuscular bulk.

I eased back and stared into my friend’s face, struck silentwhen I noticed the marks she’d attempted to hide. I cupped her jaw and slid mythumb along her swollen purple cheekbone. I frowned as I took in the rest ofher. She was wearing a bulky sweater over a sundress I’d seen her wear athousand times. My Celine was not modest, nor did she run cold, and thetemperature even inside the restaurant was sweltering.

“Why are you wearing this?” I plucked at the lapels of thecardigan.

She smacked my hands playfully. “Later,” she whisperedmysteriously and then smiled. “Alana, my dearest friend in the entire world,I’d like you to meet my husband,” Celine announced, going over to the blondmanand looping her arm around his waist, making a show ofsnuggling up to his side. He in return put his hand not around her, but on theback of her neck as though he was keeping her in place. “Darren Holt, this isAlana Kim,” she finished.

“Hopefully Toussaint,” Christophe corrected and looked at mewarmly while he came to my side and slid an arm around my waist, his handresting on my hip.

Instead of shaking Darren’s hand, I offered a little waveand pressed closer to Christophe. I didn’t know why, I just needed to feelprotected for some reason. “Nice to meet you.”

“Celine talks a lot about you. I thought for sure you’d be aten-foot-tall angel from Heaven. I’m glad to see you’re just a woman. Almost aspretty asmine. Isn’t that right, lambchop?” he asked,putting pressure around my friend’s nape as though leading her by the scruff ofher neck the way you would a dog. He held on until she stood on her toes so hecould publicly give her a wet, sloppy kiss with visible tongue in the middle ofthe restaurant.

I scowled and stared down at the floor. This man gave me areally badfeeling.

“Oh, I assure you, she’s far more than just a woman.”Christophe squeezed the ball of my shoulder until I looked up at him. “Youokay?” he whispered.

“I see someone is smitten with his wife. These types ofgirls really know how to give back in the bedroom if you know what I mean. Am Iright, or am I right?” Darren clapped Christophe on the shoulder, laughingraucously at his crass and unnecessary comment.

“Is our table ready?” Christophe changed the subject,something I silently praised. “Ready,moncoeur?” He took my hand and interlaced ourfingers.

“I made sure we got the best seat in the place,” Darren boastedas we followed. “Gives us a great view of the Strip through the windows. We cansee all the women strutting down the street in their high heels and shortskirts. Ifuckinglove Sin City, man.”

Christophe growled low in his chest, clearly annoyed.

I squeezed his hand. “I am used to this behavior. No worrieshere.” I smiled for his benefit.

“I amnot, nor do I find it very couth orappealing. It is rather grating on my nerves,” he admitted with bite in histone.

“What’s that, man? I didn’t hearya.You gotta speak up.” Darren sat in his chair.

Christophe moved forward and pulled out Celine’s chair andthen the one next to it for me before taking his own seat.

“People still dothat?Whathappened to women’s liberation and allthat shit?”Darren snickered, then lifted his hand in the air and whistled, disturbingother patrons who were enjoying their meals as he called out to the waiter.“Hey, we need drinks over here pronto!”

I glanced at Celine, burning a hole through her with my eyesuntil she looked at me. She gave me a bland expression before shaking her head,signaling not to say a word. I had a lot of words I wanted to say, none of thempleasant, but what could I do? I had to let her lead. This was her husband. Hercontract. Her life. Still, her husband was anasshole,and she shouldn’t have to put up with it. There had to be a way out if the partiesweren’t a good match. She could give all the money back including the deposit.I’d even bet a million dollars that my husband would help Celine and bring herwith us wherever home was in France while she worked to get on her feet. I wascertain of it.

Through the rest of lunch, Darren made disgusting jokes andpalmed my best friend like she was his personal toy, even teasing her nippleover her clothing right in front of us, acting as if we couldn’t see what hewas blatantly doing. Celine and I had known men like him. Unfortunately, we hadmore experience with them than we’d have liked.

All the signs were leading to a very bad situation thatalready seemed to be getting volatile—if her swollen cheek and his handsy,possessive behaviorwereanything to go by.

I ate my food as quickly as possible, wanting to get to theshopping portion of our day so we could talk in private.

“You must have been hungry,” Christophe laughed, noticing myplate was demolished before anyone else’s. I hadn’t said a single word,preferring to shovel food into my mouth so that we could be done.

“I’m eager to shop with my best friend,” I said and staredinto his eyes, wanting him to read how badly I needed alone time with her.

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