Page 80 of Exotic Affairs: The Mistress Bride\The Spanish Husband\The Bellini Bride

‘He’s an addict, Luiz,’ she stated with heart slaying honesty. ‘They don’t get cured overnight.’

‘I know,’ he said quietly.

‘Does he know?’ she then asked sharply. ‘About this deal you and I have just made?’

‘He knows you are here with me, but that’s about all.’

Which made just one more problem she still had yet to confront, she thought heavily, and moved right out of Luiz’s arms. His eyes narrowed on her weary profile, but he didn’t try to detain her.

Instead he moved back to the door, then stood waiting for her to join him. Caroline did so without uttering another word. As they walked side by side back towards the main salon she thought she could actually feel the vibration of her own body it was so beset by nerve-tingling tension.

‘Do I get to know who any of these people are before I have to meet them?’ she asked without much hope of an answer, since he was very economical with those.

‘Nervous?’ Luiz questioned as they crossed the foyer.

‘Yes,’ she confessed.

‘Then don’t be.’ He sounded eminently confident of that. ‘You are about to meet my family,’ he told her. ‘Not a firing squad.’

His family? ‘But you told me once that you don’t have any family!’ She stared at him in disbelief.

He just smiled another odd smile. ‘I don’t,’ he said, but the sudden cold glitter that struck his eyes sent a chill chasing down her spine.

‘Enigmatic as ever, I note,’ she drawled.

He responded with a different smile. ‘My secret weapon,’ he admitted.

But not his only one, she thought as she felt his hand make contact with the small of her back as the other hand reached out for the door. His touch stung through her like an electric power source, making her spine arch fiercely.

Her reaction made him pause, his features hardening. ‘Just remember who you are and what you are to me when we walk in there,’ he warned very grimly. ‘It is very important to me that you give a good impression of a blissful bride, not a resentful one.’

Refusing to look at him, Caroline said nothing. But her chin dutifully lifted and her expression became smooth as he pushed open the door to the main salon.

The first thing her eyes went to was the green baize table, which she was relieved to see had been deftly covered with a white linen tablecloth on which several bottles of champagne now lay, chilling on a bed of ice. And the croupier, who had been stacking coloured chips earlier, now stood polishing fluted champagne glasses with the innocence of a waiter.

The next thing she allowed her eyes to take in was the room full of people. What she had seen only as a couple of dozen blurred faces the first time around, now became two dozen separate individuals who were, almost without exception, Spanish.

‘Highborn’ and ‘haughty’ were the mocking words that came to mind to describe the way they were looking back at her. Which then made her think that if these people were related to Luiz, then he had to come from some very rare stock. Some young, some old, some distinctly curious, some noticeably cautious, she noted. But what struck her the fiercest were the waves of antipathy she could feel bouncing off them, even though she could sense they were trying hard to hide it.

They don’t like Luiz, she realised on a blinding flash of insight. They might be here in his home, enjoying his champagne and his hospitality, but they resent it for some baffling reason.

Which served to further confuse a situation that was already muddled enough.

Then, at last, she noticed her father, standing slightly apart from the others and seemingly not at all pleased, by the look on his face. He was frowning into the whisky glass he held in his hand instead of bothering to glance their way, as everyone else had done the moment the doors had opened.

She knew what he was thinking. He was thinking—When the hell, with all these people around, am I going to get my game of poker? Because that was the way his mind worked when he was in the grip of his personal madness.

Well, he is about to receive a rather nasty surprise! she predicted with no sympathy for him whatsoever. He had let her down tonight, let her down so badly that it was going to be hard for her to forgive him this time.

This time—she repeated. How many ‘this times’ had there been over the last ten years?

And how many more were there going to be? Plenty, she predicted, despite Luiz’s grand promise.

‘Really, Luiz.’ A rather large-boned lady, wearing a very regal magenta silk gown, decided to break the silence with haughty censure. ‘I am too old to be indulging in late-night parties. Do you see the time? Do you realise how unforgivably rude you have been, summoning us all here then leaving us to kick our heels while we await your pleasure?’

‘My apologies, Aunt Beatriz,’ Luiz murmured, seeming not to notice the contempt in the older woman’s tone. ‘But I was so sure you wouldn’t want to miss this particular party once you knew the reason for it.’

‘Reason—what reason?’ Still cross, but curious, the aunt fixed him with a stern glare.

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