‘It can’t be helped. I’ll rearrange Mariella for another weekend.’
‘But it’s her birthday,’ she said, clearly upset about it. Then her face brightened. ‘I know! She can come and stay with us at the castle. If she wants, I can arrange a ticket to the show for her.’
‘I will ask her.’
She hesitated before quietly saying, ‘And you can come too, if you’d like? You wouldn’t have to sit with me. I can get you tickets to sit with your sister.’
‘You already know the answer to that,’ he said evenly. Then, placing another kiss to her neck, Gabriel went into the bathroom and stood under the shower, turning the heat up as high as he could endure.
Away from Alessia’s alert eyes he took some deep breaths and willed the bilious resentment out of him.
This was the life he’d signed up for. Alessia’s job was a princess. He shouldn’t resent that it took her away from him on the few nights they had together.
The seductive glamour of Madrid’s Club Giroud was everything Alessia had expected and more. Situated in an ordinary street with an ordinary façade, having shaken their tail of paparazzi off they entered through an unobtrusive, ultra-discreet yet heavily guarded underground car park.
An elevator took them up to the club proper and then the night began.
First they had a meal in the swish restaurant, dining on the kind of food served up at the castle when honoured guests of state were in attendance, then they explored the rooms, each with its own vibe. In some, business-suited men and women were clearly discussing business but everyone else was there to dance or gamble or sip cocktails with other members of the ultra-rich and powerful, confident that whatever took place within the club’s walls stayed there. Having been in existence for almost two decades, the press still hadn’t got wind of it and it remained one of the few places a man like Gabriel could let his hair down and relax.
There were many faces Alessia recognised and, as she sipped a glass of fizzy grape juice in the poker room—no alcohol for her during the pregnancy—an elegant figure caught her eye and she elbowed Gabriel. ‘Look,’ she hissed. ‘It’s Princess Catalina and her husband.’
Gabriel, about to lay a card down, followed her stare.
As if they could feel their eyes on them, Nathaniel and Catalina Giroud turned their heads in unison. In an instant, smiles of recognition lit their faces and they weaved through the crowds to them.
Rising to his feet, Gabriel shook Nathaniel’s hand and, after being introduced, exchanged kisses with Catalina, who then turned her attention to Alessia and smiled widely. ‘Little Alessia Berruti! Look at you all grown up...’ A flare of mischief crossed her face. ‘Although not much taller than I remember.’
‘You two have met?’ Gabriel asked.
Alessia shrugged sheepishly. ‘The royal world is a small world. But it’s been a long time,’ she added to Catalina. ‘I think I was ten when we last met.’
Almost a decade older than Alessia, Catalina took her hand. ‘Yes, I remember. It was at your parents’ anniversary party. I remember being sorry for you when you were sent to bed. You tried so hard to keep a brave smile on your face and not show your disappointment.’
‘I guess I didn’t try hard enough if you noticed it,’ she laughed.
‘I only noticed because I’d once been in your shoes. You carried it off far more successfully than I ever did.’
Agreeing to join them for a drink, Gabriel finished his game and then they set off to the piano room, where a session musician was playing in the corner.
After a fresh round of drinks were served, the conversation soon turned to the one subject he would prefer not to speak of. Amadeo’s wedding. Catalina was cousin to the bride. Though it was doubtful she would know of Gabriel’s involvement in the setting up of the marriage, his chest still tightened.
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Catalina surprised them by saying.
‘You’re going?’ Alessia asked.
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘But Dominic will be there.’
It was no secret in their circle that Dominic used to hit and tyrannise his sister and that he was the principal reason she’d fled Monte Cleure with Nathaniel.
‘Forgive me, but I was under the impression you wouldn’t step foot in the same country as Dominic.’
Catalina’s face clouded. ‘I won’t ever return to Monte Cleure, not while Dominic’s on the throne.’ Then she brightened and looked adoringly at her husband, who gave her a meaningful look that only Catalina could understand. ‘But I want to see Elspeth married and safely away from him with my own eyes. She was always a sweet little thing, and the wedding’s in Ceres and Dominic can’t touch me there. If he tried, Nathaniel would kill him.’
Alessia had no doubt Catalina spoke the truth. The love this couple had for each other was as strong as the love she felt emanating from Marcelo and Clara, and she couldn’t help herself from glancing at Gabriel, whose hand was wrapped tightly around hers.
Her heart sighed.