Page 31 of Madam Alana

“If she wants out for any reason, we will help her,”Christophe swore, putting a hand over his heart, the promise filled with vigor.

That was the moment I fell utterly, blissfully, and hopelesslyin love with my husband.

Chapter 11

TwoPeas in a Pod

Christophe was the absolute best person to shop with. Heactually seemedto enjoy it. He’d pick out items toaccentuate my eyes or go well with my coloring. He was thoughtful and intenselyparticular about patterns, shapes, and hues, which I figured was due to hisartist’s eye. And much to Celine’s delight, he cared little for what somethingcost. The two of them becameinsta-friends once herhusband left us alone.

“Just wait, Chris. You will not believe howsmokin’ hot Alana looks in this sparkly number,” she calledout from behind the dressing room curtain while zipping up the back for me.

Christophe had taken a seat on the lone chaise in the centerof the dressing room. He sat relaxed, one knee crossed over the other, an armstretched across the back of the chaise while he sipped champagne. He waitedpatiently as we tried on each garment and then showed them to him for hisfeedback.

Celine nudged me out through the curtain, presenting me tomy husband.

Christophe sat up the moment I came into view, his eyeslaser-focused on me in the teal getup. The dress hugged my slight curves butstill had a good amount of stretch and give to it. It clasped around the neckand zipped up the lower back, leaving a big open circle showing my bare skin.The hem fell only to mid-thigh which wasn’t my natural preference as it showeda lot of leg, but the way he looked at me made me feel like I was covered indiamonds.

“Alana…” he breathed, awe coating his tone. “This ispaint-worthy,cheri,” he finished, nevertaking his heated gaze off me.

My heart pitter-pattered as butterflies took flight withinmy stomach. That look in his eyes made me believe I was the only woman in theentire world. I positively swooned where I stood. My knees quaked andgooseflesh rose on my skin.

“Paint-worthy. What does that even mean?” Celine scrunchedher nose. “I was looking more for jaw-dropping or panty-melting.”

I looked up at the ceiling and groaned. “Celine, Christopheis an artist. If he thinks I am beautiful enough to want to paint, that meanshe more than likes it.”

Christophe stood, came over to us, and slowly walked aroundme, taking in every inch of my body in the dress. He reached out and ran asingle finger down my spine in a teasing caress. I shivered and gasped at thesudden, intimate, yet surprising, touch.

He hummed under his breath and when he came to stand infront of me, he cupped the side of my neck, his thumb grazing along my jawline.“Tuestparfait,” he murmured, his voicedeep and filled with longing.

My breath caught in my throat at the lovely compliment.

“Parfait? Isn’t that a yogurt or ice cream?” Celine asked.

I licked my lips and cleared my throat, emotion threadingthrough my nerve endings a mile a minute. This man had done nothing but treatme and Celine with kindness, respect, and grace. And now he looked at me as ifthere could be no other more beautiful. I couldn’t glance away from his adoringgaze as it was such a powerful tether.

“He said,you are perfect,” I clarified for myfriend. “Merci, husband.”

“Wow. And heck, yeah. My best friend is the best thing thatcould ever have happened to you, mister.” She pointed a sassy finger atChristophe while smiling.

He put his hand over his chest. “This I know,monami.” ThisI know,my friend, he agreed.

Celine waved a hand to air her face. “Handsome, charming,adores my friend, and speaks French. Alana, girl, you hit the jackpot!”

I bit into my lip and nodded, too flushed with pride andhappiness to express all that I was feeling in the moment.

“And you, Celine?” Christophe asked boldly. “Are you happywith Darren?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, went over to the mirror, andassessed the pantsuit she had on. I preferred her outfit over mine as it lookedchic and modest. Perhaps I would try a suit next time.

“So far, so good. He dotes on me. Touches me every chance hegets. Buys me lavish gifts and gourmet meals. I mean, you know your friend,”she sighed. “He’s a little vulgar, but he can’t help how into me he is. I’mirresistible don’t you know.” She playfully batted her eyelashes.

“Darren and I are not friends, Celine. We have a businessrelationship. He has been a regular buyer of my art the last several years. Itwas a fluke that I happened to come to the auction. Though I’ll be forevergrateful to him for that invitation as it brought me to my Alana.”

“You see,” Celine hummed. “That right there.” She turned tofocus on Christophe. “The way you talk about Alana is the way Darren makes mefeel when we’re alone. Like I’m all he could ever want. I’ve never been treatedlike gold before him.”

“And the bruises?” Christophe rubbed at the back of hisneck, seeming troubled.

She waved her hand in the air as if what he’d asked didn’tmatter. “Really, you both are hyper-concentrated on something that’s ratherprivate. We—meaning Darren and I—let our passion for one another get out ofcontrol, and I accidentally got hurt.” She shoved up the cuffs on the blazershe wore, showing off her battered wrists. “These were from me, not him.” Shelowered her voice. “And right now, I’m wearing these marks as reminders of areally wildnight. One that I will be repeating again,hopefully,” she smirked.

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