‘Alexa, tell me …’
‘Yes—yes, I would.’
‘Then come …’
Once more that hand was under her nose but this time it was making an autocratic gesture, not enticing her to give way.
‘Why fight?’ he continued when still she hesitated. ‘There is no need.’
Why fight? Alexa was asking herself the same question. The problem was that she didn’t really know who she was fighting. Santos? Or herself?
She had little doubt that this was just a passing thing. That Santos was merely looking for a distraction. Something to divert his mind from the fact that he had been jilted at the altar. Even if he was truly as indifferent to things as he claimed, the public rejection had to sting his male pride if nothing else. And so he wanted something to take his mind off it. Someone to take his mind off it.
And she happened to be the nearest person.
But if she was honest then she didn’t care if that was all it was, if it meant that she could have this evening. And that she could be with Santos for tonight.
‘All right,’ she said slowly, still not quite believing what was happening. Not at all sure where this would lead. Only knowing that she would always regret it if she turned Santos down right now. ‘All right—let’s dance.’
When Santos took her hand in his and she felt the warmth and strength of his fingers close around hers, the little excited judder that her heart gave in her breast told her that she had made the right decision. The decision that put a fizz of exhilaration into her veins and made her breath catch in anticipation of what was to come.
Even if at the end of the day when the clock struck midnight her coach would turn back into a pumpkin, her clothes into rags and she would have to run back home, tonight Cinderella would go to the ball. Tonight she would dance with the prince and if at midnight it all came to an end and proved to be the fantasy she deep down knew that it was then at least she would have had tonight.
‘Let’s dance,’ Santos agreed and a rich note of satisfaction ran through the words, deepening his exotic accent and turning the words into a tiger’s purr of pleasure. One that made her blood run thick with sensual reaction.
She even forgot about the way that her feet ached, the way the straps of her shoes dug into her skin as she walked beside him through the wide, marble-floored hall, heading towards the sound of the music.
But as they passed the big wooden doors leading outside, she saw how they were flung open and at the bottom of the short flight of steps a big, sleek limousine was drawn up, engine idling, waiting for some guest who was leaving early.
Seeing it, she slowed her footsteps, her mood altering subtly. Outside the darkness was gathering, the growing shadows of the evening reminding her that this strange, unbelievable day, in which nothing had gone the way she had expected it, was starting to come to a close. And she couldn’t forget that somewhere out there, in the sanctuary of their hotel room, her father and Petra would be feeling the aftermath of the day’s events just as she had been doing.
And, charming or not, Santos was still the ruthless creature who had earned his notorious nickname. The man whose connections with her father had turned Stanley Montague into a shadow of the man he had once been.
‘Alexandra?’
Santos had sensed her change of mood, the way that her steps were dragging. He paused and looked over his shoulder at her, not turning, his powerful body still positioned in a way that declared his intention of moving on just as soon as he could.
‘Perhaps I should go back.’
‘No.’
‘But I should find out how my dad is …’
‘No!’
It was far more emphatic this time, for all that he hadn’t raised his voice above a conversational tone.
‘You will not leave.’
‘But Santos, I really think I should. So if you could just arrange for a car to be …’
She broke off in shock as she saw the fierce shake of his dark head, the obdurate set to the beautiful mouth, all trace of softness driven from it by the way it was clamped tight, the tautness of every muscle in his jaw.
‘There will be no car.’
‘Oh but surely you have more than one …’ Alexa began to protest, the word dying on a gasp of shock as she realised what he had said.
Not there isn’t another car. But there will be no car. He wasn’t just saying that it would be difficult to provide transport for her but that he wasn’t prepared to.
‘What do you mean, no car?’
Digging in her heels both mentally and physically, she refused to move, trying to tug her hand free when it seemed that he would march on, taking her with him. But although Santos too slowed to a halt, his grip on her hand tightened so that she couldn’t free herself. ‘You can’t keep me here!’