Kept At The Argentine's Command

She had barely reached her seat when he heard her give a soft cry.

Alejandro turned—fast.

‘Non, leave those things alone!’

He relaxed, a little surprised at his own reflexes when he didn’t even like the woman. She was back to making everyone’s life a misery.

She followed this up with a hushed volley of what sounded like furious French, but she was speaking so fast it was hard to tell. And all of it was directed at the poor steward, who was tidying up the clutter she had accumulated around her.

Heads emerged into the aisle.

Alejandro swung back into his seat and checked his phone. He was done with her.

There was a message from the groom.

Change in plans. Do me a favour and pick up a bridesmaid on your way in. Answers to Lulu Lachaille. Exiting Flight 338 at Gate Four. She’s precious cargo. If you lose her, Gigi will cut off my balls and call off the wedding.

Alejandro briefly considered texting back no, even as he kissed his peaceful drive goodbye. Weddings were his worst nightmare. Spending four hours in a car with a chatty little bridesmaid didn’t exactly float his boat.

Although the bridal party was bound to be stocked with leggy showgirls, so it might not be that bad...

Dios.

He stuck his head out into the aisle, only to find that the French Miss was leaning out too.

She had the open, hopeful expression of a cartoon princess awaiting aid from one of her magical creatures.

Then she saw him, and her expression darkened and her eyes diminished to dark cat-like slits.

As if on cue a flight attendant appeared at her side, with still water and what appeared to be some form of medication.

A headache? It just got better and better.

He flipped open the attachment Khaled had sent him, but a part of him already knew what he was going to see.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or groan.

A dark-eyed angel gazed seriously up at him from the screen.

She was really quite something.

He angled a resigned glance down the aisle. The only problem was—she was also her.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_3deab798-46af-5f9f-8ff7-61630b804d2d)

MAKE ME?

Trotting across the plane’s bridge, Lulu fumed. It was at the forefront of her mind to make a complaint to the airline.

Women should be free to fly the skies unmolested by hulking great brutes who thought they occupied the high moral ground.

Although she guessed he did.

She guessed he didn’t think much of her because she hadn’t given up her seat.

Lulu’s heart plummeted.

She’d seen the looks on the other passengers’ faces and knew they all felt the same way, but what could she have done?

The cabin crew had been apprised of her condition and had been considerate with all of her requests. Only one of them clearly hadn’t got the memo regarding her flying issues, and when she’d been asked to move to another seat her feet had turned to lead.

Just the idea of shifting everything, when she’d created a safe little space for herself around her seat, had been too overwhelming. She might as well have been asked to leap from the plane!

By the time she was waiting at the luggage carousel Lulu was no longer fuming but feeling utterly wretched.

What kind of a person didn’t give up their seat to a sick, elderly man?

Perhaps she should have heeded her mother’s advice and brought someone with her? Lulu worried. Then none of this would have happened.

But how was she to have anything like a normal life if she always had to take people along with her? She was a full-grown woman—not an invalid! She could do better than this. She stood up straighter. She could try harder...

She was trying harder.

Ever since she had tried to break up her best friend’s relationship six months ago she’d been actively trying to do better.

She’d found a different therapist from the one her parents had arranged and got a proper diagnosis. At least she knew now that her actions with Gigi had been motivated by separation anxiety and were a symptom of her illness.

But it would have been too easy to use her condition as an excuse for her behaviour—lying to bring Gigi back home just so she could feel safer, and in the process trying to steal her best friend’s joy with a man who’d proved to be the best thing that had ever happened to her. Who did something like that? A boxed-in, desperate person, that was who—and she didn’t want to be that person any more.

That was why she was in the process of turning her entire life upside down.

She had signed up for a course in costume design and she now had ambitions for a life beyond the cabaret.

It had been that single act which had given her the necessary self-confidence to imagine she could undertake this flight on her own.

But all her preparations for taking the flight hadn’t factored in a big, macho stranger, cornering her in the aisle on her way back from the facilities, where most of the contents of her stomach had gone down the toilet.

‘A piece of work’, he’d called her. As if she were defective—something she’d worked hard with her therapist to convince herself she wasn’t.

Lulu realised her hand was shaking as she pointed out her luggage to the nice airport attendant who had volunteered to help her.

That was something that man from the plane could have been—helpful rather than being horrible to her.

Oh, forget him, she told herself briskly. He’s probably forgotten all about you!

To be honest, as she made her way out into Arrivals with her stick-and-stop trolley, she was feeling a bit desperate, and was looking forward to seeing her fellow bridesmaids, Susie and Trixie. They at least would provide a buffer against the rest of the world.

Right now Lulu didn’t think she could face anything more challenging.