Page 10 of Cinderella's One-Night Baby

She considered this for a moment then sniffed through her slightly squished nose, lifted her chin and adopted a glazed expression like something out of a zombie movie. ‘Like this?’

‘That’s not quite the poker face I remember,’ he murmured, stifling a laugh.

Her cheeks sucked in as they’d done earlier when he’d suspected she was stifling her own laughter. ‘I didn’t even know Ihada poker face.’

‘You’ll find it if you need it.’ He held the crook of his arm out to her. ‘Hold on to me for support and remember that you have nothing to fear. I promised my sister that I would take care of you and I never make promises I can’t keep.’

Heart suddenly thumping again, Gabrielle hesitated a moment, not even knowingwhyshe was hesitating when all he was doing was offering the support she needed, then slipped her hand as loosely as she could through his elbow. She fixed her gaze forwards, lifted her chin and tried to tune out the size of his bicep flexing against her fingers.

‘Big breath,’ he commanded.

She obeyed and was rewarded with a huge dose of his scent deep in her lungs. The only upside to that was her lungs gratefully opened up to receive the scent so she supposed being able to breathe semi-properly again was kind of a win, even if her heart was now smashing against her ribcage.

At the door of the busy banquet room, which Gabrielle was only able to get a tiny glimpse into, stood a makeshift archway elaborately decorated with roses. A photographer materialised.

‘I’m afraid we’re already late,’ Andrés told him smoothly.

‘The champagne reception has only just finished,’ the photographer informed them. ‘There is time before everyone takes their seats if we work quickly.’

Andrés’s black stare landed on Gabrielle. She watched him deliberate in ultra-quick time then nod his assent.

In seconds, Gabrielle was taking her position beside Andrés under the arch.

‘Closer together,’ the photographer commanded.

All the breaths she’d managed to get back into her lungs rushed out of her when Andrés’s arm slid behind her back and a giant hand rested on her hip.

Her heart thumped painfully against her already bruised ribcage, and she swallowed hard, as aware of the heat emanating from Andrés’s huge frame pressed so tightly into her side as she was of the butterflies suddenly loose in her stomach. It took far more effort than should come naturally to bring a smile to her face.

The camera clicked, but there was no merciful release from Andrés’s touch for he rested his hand on her lower back and steered her through the door into the banquet room.

Hundreds and hundreds of people dressed in the finest clothes money could buy were taking their seats. It wasn’t until Gabrielle, trying valiantly to pretend that she wasn’t in the slightest bit affected by Andrés’s hand on her back, caught a glimpse of her heroine at the long top table that overlooked the dozens of round tables that she realised she’d completely forgotten all about the reason for the party.

‘Did you justsqueal?’ Andrés asked in a low, astounded voice.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, practically bouncing in excitement. ‘I couldn’t help it. I just spotted the Queen.’

Making a concerted effort not to look in the Queen’s direction again so as not to embarrass herself again, Gabrielle flickered her eyes over the other guests and found herself having to clamp her lips together to stop another squeal escaping at all the faces she recognised. Anyone would recognise them. In this elaborately decorated banquet room, where light from gold and crystal chandeliers bounced off the oak floor and the beautifully laid tables, she recognised prime ministers and presidents, the bosses of multi-billion-dollar businesses, leading influencers and other faces she couldn’t put a job or name to but whose faces were known around the world. Many of them were looking at her too, their faces drawn first to Andrés and then to his date, their expressions those of people trying to work out who she was. She wondered if any of the couples whose cars she’d searched earlier would recognise her now, in all Sophia’s finery, and decided not. For some of them it was because they were too important in their own minds to look at the hoi polloi long enough for their faces to register, for the others it was just a stretch of the imagination too far. She wouldn’t have believed it herself if it wasn’t actually happening to her.

‘Are you remembering to breathe?’ Andrés enquired once they’d taken their seats, speaking close to Gabrielle’s ear so only she could hear. The tip of his nose brushed against the strands of her hair and he suddenly found his senses filled with the contrasting scents of the musky perfume she’d chosen to spray herself with and the sweet shampoo she’d washed her hair with.Dios, the combination was temptation itself.

She nodded rigidly and after a beat turned to him. ‘How’s my poker face going?’

Her latest attempt reminded him of the victim of a zombie movie playing dead so they wouldn’t get bitten. It was both amusing and yet strangely touching, and he reminded himself that this was Gabrielle’s first foray into his world and that she’d had only hours to mentally prepare herself for it. He’d spent his entire life preparing for his first foray into this world.

‘Terribly.’ Keeping his voice low, he added, ‘Just remember, every person in this room, including your Queen, has the same bodily functions as you and me.’

Her mouth dropped open in faux outrage and she leaned in closer to hiss, ‘I do not want to think of Queen Catalina’s bodily functions, thank you very much! I prefer to think of her as a mythical creature spreading goodwill and hope amongst her subjects, so do not ruin my illusions by humanising her for me.’

Staring into dark brown eyes dancing with amusement, Andrés caught another waft of her perfume. It was a familiar scent but the way it reacted to Gabrielle’s skin...

Something stirred inside him, a tightening, a flicker of heat that was only partially broken a beat later when the waiting staff descended. They filled the smallest of the crystal glasses set out before them, little bigger than his thumb, with amber liquid.

Gabrielle picked hers up and sniffed it gingerly. It smelt sweet. Safe. Because sniffing the sweet liquid meant she wasn’t inhaling the scent of Andrés.

She could still feel the tiny quivering tendrils that had formed at the roots of her hair when he’d spoken into her ear. Still feel the whisper of his warm breath on her lobe.

‘It’s the pre-banquet drink; a form of sherry,’ he explained. ‘In a moment we will all stand and drink the first toast to the Queen’s health.’

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