Could Ms. Hell-in-High-Heels actually be bonding with me? Count me in.
“Then why not come to my party tonight?”
Jordan brushed the curve of her steering wheel, settling on gripping at ten and two. “Because crashing parties is more my style.” She looked away, staring straight ahead. “And I have plans.”
Eager to move on from the awkwardness of the sullen response, Madison repeated her other question. “And the second Pearl Harbor lesson?”
Back to her normal sultry self, Jordan let the answer roll from her crimson lips. “In a game of strategy, never underestimate the element of surprise.”
With a lingering glance, Madison shut the door, dropping her shoulders as Jordan drove away.
Six
Paris, France
The Peninsula Hotel
With a deep inhale, Madison struggled to open her eyes the next morning. Exhausted, she blinked slowly at the ceiling, replaying in her mind the best bits and pieces of one hell of a bachelorette party.
Her memory wasn’t fuzzy. She’d barely touched the copious amounts of champagne, cosmos, and inebriating shots pushed into her hands. Jordan’s discussion had wreaked havoc on her appetite, turning her tummy into a roller-coaster ride of nerves and butterflies.
Her long yawn gave her a moment to flip through the more pleasant flashbacks of the night.
Madison’s normally reserved clan of girlfriends held nothing back, corralling an entire stripper brigade to perform on her lap, and offered a thousand dollars to the hottest dancer. In half an hour, her diligent banana-hammock inspection made way for a winner. But it wasn’t his banana standing out in her mind.
Hot and spicy, the winning dancer gave it his all. His unbelievable nice-and-naughty kiss brought the house down. Recalling the insatiable kiss, Madison smiled, but it stalled as a long beam of sunlight hit her eye. The sliver hitting her through the blackout curtains made her moan.
Grabbing her cell to check the time, she huffed as the face of the phone remained black. “Dammit.”
“What?” her bedmate mumbled.
Startled but sedate, she looked over at the man resting peacefully buried under the covers. His black satin eye mask gave her a hot-pink wink.
Look at him. He must be exhausted after all that action.
Giggling at the unusually groggy Paco, she replied in a raspy voice. “Morning, sunshine. I forgot to plug in my cell. It’s dead.”
Effortlessly, moving only his arm, he swept his cell phone from the nightstand and handed it to her.
Madison stared at the black screen. Nothing. She pressed it back into his palm, then smoothed her hand over his. Tugging down the blanket, she kissed the cheek of the man who’d become a brother to her.
Well, except in those times like last night when he transformed into her hard-charging, party girl of a sister.
“Yours is dead too.”
“Impossible,” he muttered. “If both our phones are dead, we can’t text our butler for coffee. And we need coffee.”
A knock at the door broke through their bonding. Both grumbled at the thought of having to walk all the way across the suite to answer it.
“I am the bride-to-be,” Madison said, using her best wheedling tone.
“And I’m recovering from celebrating the bride-to-be, downing so many cosmos, I stopped counting after six. Or seven. So we’ll solve it the old-fashioned way. Rock-paper-scissors.”
Amused, Madison agreed. “Deal.”
Without moving from their spots, Madison watched as Paco held up his fist, waving it to the beat of, “One, two, three.” With a V of his fingers, he hit her with scissors.
“You lose,” she said, rolling over to smother a laugh, not bothering to let him know she hadn’t played at all.
Heaving his body from the bed, Paco stood for a moment, jolted by the sound of another knock. Madison watched as he took out his irritation on the eye mask, fighting it free from his head and tossing it across the room.
She enjoyed the scene of an utterly polished man desperately keeping his balance as Paco made his way down the short length of hall, finally leaning against the door. He didn’t open it.
Instead, he bent down to pick up a large envelope from the floor. “It’s for you.”
“Me? How would anyone know I’m in your suite?”
Madison sat up, plugging in her phone and waiting for it to charge. Paco shuffled back to her and tossed the envelope onto the down comforter. Without a word, he slid beneath the blankets, apparently going back to sleep.
Yawning, Madison opened the envelope and pulled out a few glossy photos. After a few blinks and rubbing her eyes, she decided to ignore her feelings. Calmly laying the photos on the bed, she grabbed the hotel phone.
“Yes, bonjour. Can I get some coffee and assorted breads?”
“And fruit,” Paco murmured.
“And fruit,” she repeated into the phone.
“And hair of the dog,” he muttered.
Ignoring him, she thanked room service and hung up. To Paco, she said, “That’s why we have a minibar.” Sinking into the bed, she wiggled closer to him.
Frowning, he rolled over toward her. “What’s wrong?”
She grabbed the photos and handed them to him, closing her eyes, unsure of what to think. When Paco looked at them and laughed, she sprang up.
“Really? You’re laughing?”
“I am.”
She snatched the image he was holding. “Alex, in the suit he was in yesterday, is standing in front of a naked woman in a hotel room. And . . .” Madison’s voice took a pointed aha tone. “Here, he’s removing his blazer. Getting more comfortable.”
Paco laughed with obvious amusement. “You can’t seriously think these photos are actually catching Alex in the act.”
Frustrated, she muttered, “I don’t.” Throwing herself back on the pillows, she said, “But I can still hate it.”
And hate it, she would. It was a setup, and not a photoshopped one. This was a real girl—with huge boobs—throwing herself at Alex. The young woman’s body was perfectly posed for a handful of pics, possibly to be used in a scandalous exposé that could make headlines all over the world.
Silence stewed between them until Paco said, “Hand me your phone.”
Irritated, she said, “It’s charging.”
He wrapped his arm around her, nudging her. “Come on. Mine’s totally dead.”
“Fine.”
She did as he asked, dragging part of the ten-foot-cord with her phone as she handed it over. He opened it, having the privilege of unrestricted access to so much of Madison’s life. Dialing Alex, Paco clicked on the speakerphone.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Alex said, cheerful as ever.
“Good morning, handsome,” Paco replied. “Madison just got her first taste of the game.”
“Oh.” Alex’s good humor deflated. “What was it?”
“Guess,” Madison said sharply as she piled pillows behind her back.
“Hmm . . .” Blowing out a long sigh, Alex said, “Images?”
She scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yup.”
“I’ll bet they’re still images, and not video. Of me. And the woman in my room last night.”