A Scandalous Midnight In Madrid. Susan Stephens
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THE SKY WAS as deep and smooth as black velvet over the heart of old Madrid, as Don Alejandro, Duque de Alegon unfolded his powerful frame from a vehicle he’d casually abandoned outside the hottest club in town. City clocks chimed midnight as a valet rushed to park the top-of-the-range muscle car. Nightlife in Spain’s capital was fast and furious...and late.
Pressing a generous tip into the attendant’s hand, Alejandro switched his attention to a flash of flame on the opposite side of the street, where, framed in harsh light, a woman was flambéing a dish alongside the world-renowned Chef Sorollo in the kitchens of El Gato Feroz. The young woman was voluptuous beneath severe chef’s whites, her mouth was firm and her brow was furrowed with concentration. Her attention didn’t waver from the task as her small, capable hands worked swiftly to some internal rhythm.
As if sensing she was being observed, she glanced up. Distance stole the details, but her glance was sharp and bright with intelligence, and he guessed there’d be a sprinkling of freckles across her short, straight nose, as a few baby curls of copper-bright hair had escaped the cap she wore for work. Fiery hair was reputed to mean a fiery demeanour, which led to thoughts of fire in his bed. He could vouch for the food she was preparing being exceptional, as he had dined at El Gato Feroz many times. That was the reason he’d chosen the restaurant to host his sister’s engagement party tomorrow night, and why he was here, outside the club where his sister was holding a pre-engagement party for her female friends. Her last night of freedom, as Annalisa had worryingly told him.
‘Alejandro!’ his sister yelled now.
He held up a restraining hand, impatient to see more of the woman in the kitchen. What was it about the young chef that gripped his interest, when beauties and sophisticates of every type were waiting inside the indigo womb of Club Magia? Something about her confident demeanour chimed with his approach to life, Alejandro decided. Here in Madrid, he was Don Alejandro de Alegon, a Spanish grandee of impeccable lineage with responsibilities and duties that embraced an international business, as well as vast land holdings and a wayward sister, but when he left the city he was a different man. It was the poise of the woman that suggested she could adapt as easily as he could that made him curious to know if there was some other side of the young chef with the serious demeanour.
‘Alejandro!’ Annalisa repeated with frustration. ‘My friends are waiting to meet you.’
All the more reason for delay. ‘I’ll be there in a few minutes,’ he promised as he turned to cross the street.
Annalisa’s friends were in no danger from him. His taste ran to older women who knew the score. No long-term entanglements. No complications on either side. Duty left him with little time for a personal life. The only freedom he permitted himself was when he visited his mountain retreat, where both he and Annalisa could switch off from the demands of the city and rediscover the rich heritage of their flamenco gypsy roots. In the mountains he was no longer a Spanish grandee to be fawned over merely because he held a title, but Alejandro, a man to be judged alongside all others without regard to wealth or rank, and it was only in the mountains that he truly found peace.
‘Alejandro!’ Annalisa’s voice was ever more insistent as she played to a gallery of friends. ‘We need you to escort us inside!’
‘I’m sure you can do that without my help,’ he called back to a chorus of disappointment. His bodyguards would protect the young women, and he had laid on all the food and drink he thought necessary for a good time that wouldn’t descend into chaos.
He adored his sister but would be the first to admit that he’d spoiled her. She’d been so young when their parents were killed and he’d assumed responsibility for her care. They had enjoyed the most wonderful childhood, so it was no wonder Annalisa was stricken when their parents were taken so suddenly in a tragic accident. Without a mother to confide in, she’d been lost. He’d done what he could and might have overcompensated in trying to make her feel secure again. Annalisa could be temperamental but more than made up for this with her sunny outlook on life and her ability to spread happiness. Other than where he was concerned at this moment, Alejandro conceded with some amusement as Annalisa followed him across the road.
‘What do you think you’re playing at, Alejandro? You promised you’d be nice to my friends.’
‘And I will,’ he assured her. ‘My promise won’t be broken, but something came up.’
‘Something?’ His sister, who knew him better than anyone, narrowed her eyes. ‘Or someone?’ she commented shrewdly. ‘Just don’t let this someone keep you too long. You’ll be missed, Alejandro.’
‘No, I won’t,’ he countered coolly as her friends watched this mini drama play out. ‘You’ll be too busy dancing on the table with your friends. But, be warned. I’ll be back in ten minutes. And please try to remember you’ll be engaged to a prince by tomorrow night, and I doubt he’ll indulge you as I do when he sees your photograph splashed across the press.’
‘You always were a spoilsport,’ Annalisa fired back with a familiar mix of fire and love in her expression as she returned to her friends across the street.
If you mean, by calling me a spoilsport, that I love you and care for you, you’re right, he mused as the door to El Gato Feroz swung wide and the maître d’ rushed to greet him. He stated his wishes and the man hurried off. Dangerous seconds ticked away, during which his imagination ran riot as to what Annalisa was getting up to. Just when he thought the wait couldn’t get any worse, a woman he recognised from a brief encounter years back entered the restaurant with her elderly, wealthy husband. ‘Alejandro,’ she purred, pausing to place a jewelled hand on his arm. ‘When are you and I going to get together again?’
‘Never,’ he murmured discreetly as a pretty young hostess distracted the woman’s husband. ‘You’re married now.’
‘And?’
The woman blushed guiltily as her elderly husband turned back to introduce himself to Alejandro. ‘Your Excellency,’ the older man exclaimed, dipping his head with respect. ‘What an honour...’
‘The honour is all mine,’ Alejandro assured him as he returned the courtesy.
Gossip suggesting that his prowess in the bedroom was unparalleled had done him no favours at all, he reflected with amusement as the would-be siren cast a lingering glance over her shoulder when her husband ushered her away.
When the maître d’ returned, his downcast expression suggested the young chef was as diligent as Alejandro had first thought her. His sympathies were with the maître d’, who couldn’t have looked more miserable if he’d tried. Throwing his arms wide, he exclaimed, ‘I’m so sorry, Don Alejandro, but Chef Sadie is in the middle of service, and asks me to tell you that she cannot possibly be disturbed.’
‘Not your fault,’ he reassured the man, ‘but mine for succumbing to impatience.’
Sadie. Her name was Sadie. He played the name over in his head. Well done, Sadie, he mused as he left the restaurant. This little skirmish might be over, but the battle was not lost. A smile played around his lips as he crossed the street. It pleased him to discover a woman who refused to obey his smallest whim.
* * *
Why had Don Alejandro, Duque de Alegon, asked to see her? Sadie peered out of the window as the athletic shape of one of the most famous, or should that be infamous, men in Spain strode across the narrow street. The Don was infamous, thanks to rumours suggesting that his expertise in business was only exceeded by his skill in bed. A quiver of awareness ran through her at the thought of all that raw, sexual energy contained in one immensely powerful individual. That was the huge difference between them right there. She had no sexual experience to speak of, and no time for it. Having seen her mother degraded by her father throughout Sadie’s childhood, she was in no hurry to change the status quo. Her father