‘Careful.’
It was one word of caution and it shouldn’t have sounded so menacing. So full of control. But it had, and Alex shivered, feeling the sharp edges of the stonework cutting into her fingers.
‘Rainbow House meant everything to your mother. The stories people have about her are limitless. She’s a legend with everyone I know there.’
He turned his face a fraction, inadvertently allowing the light from inside to illuminate him. But she wasn’t prepared for the expression of pain that pulled his features tight. It sliced at something raw deep inside her, something that she’d spent decades trying to bury. She slammed it away before it could get to her.
‘I have no intention of getting involved,’ Louis bit out.
‘Is that why you rescued me from your father, then?’
She could hear the quiver in her challenge, knew Louis could hear it, too. Still, she refused to back down.
‘I didn’t want to see you humiliated in front of the press. It wouldn’t have made the Delaroche Foundation look good, especially on such an important gala night.’
‘Rubbish.’
She had no idea where her courage was suddenly stemming from, but she wasn’t about to question it.
‘You wanted to know why we were talking about Rainbow House. You can tell me you don’t want to get involved all you like, but clearly you do want to. Clearly a part of you needs to.’
‘How interesting that you appear to know me so well.’ He flashed his teeth at her in another intimidating non-smile. ‘Let me guess, you know that Jean-Baptiste and I don’t get on so you think I’d be prepared to go up against him with the board because of some sentimentality over a place my mother once patronised.’
‘It’s more than that, and you know it.’
She valiantly ignored the way her heart somersaulted within her chest. The way his mannerisms spoke to something undefinable within her. A blasé attitude that masked a vulnerability he didn’t want anyone to see.
No doubt anyone else would have believed him. He sold smouldering disinterest all too well and even she herself couldn’t help but be drawn in. Louis was stunning, and edgy, and utterly mesmerising. But she was sure she could see past the front. That particular emotional Achilles’ heel was something she recognised only too easily.
‘It’s true that vastly exaggerated stories concerning some feud between Jean-Baptiste and me—his prodigal son—have been gleefully published by the press for almost a decade—’
‘You mean two brilliant surgeons, bonded by blood, united by mutual contempt?’ Alex cut across him. ‘Yes, I might have heard something about that. It’s a media favourite.’
‘Indeed. But that doesn’t mean I care enough to take on Rainbow House merely to thwart him. It would cut into my playboy lifestyle too much—surely you’ve read about that, too?’
‘I think it’s an act,’ she heard herself state boldly. ‘I think you and your father have been in competition for as long as you can remember. He’s one of the most image-conscious men I’ve seen, and I think your infamous playboy routine was your way of sullying the Delaroche name.’
‘Nice theory. And if it was true, I’d say it’s a resounding success, wouldn’t you?’ He quirked an eyebrow as though she amused him.
But Alex wasn’t finished yet.
‘Ah, but it hasn’t worked as well as you’d hoped, has it? Because as much as the media love to hate you, they also hate to love you. If they ever realised quite how much you care for your patients, I think they’d be having bank holidays in your honour. No wonder you keep such a close-knit team around you—can’t have people realising you’re actually a good guy underneath that bad-boy exterior.’
Something skittered over Louis’s face.
‘And that fantastical notion is what you’re basing your hopes on? You’re relying on some non-existent version of me to save Rainbow House?’
‘Why not?’ She shot him an over-bright smile. If he was her last chance then she might as well go down fighting. ‘Besides, it’s not such a fantastical notion if I’m not the only one who thinks you could save the place.’
She had him. She could see it. And it gave her a thrill to realise she had hooked him so easily. But reeling him in, that was going to be the impossible part.
‘Go on then,’ he conceded, and she had to give him credit for not trying to disguise his intrigue.
‘Half of your board.’
‘Allow me to let you onto a little secret. Even if I wanted to save the place, I couldn’t.’
‘You could. All you have to do is take over control from the Delaroche Foundation, the way your mother always intended you to do.’
‘Are you always this argumentative?’ His lips twitched and Alex wrinkled her nose.
‘I’m not arguing, I’m only pointing out—’
‘So it’s just me, then? I suppose I should take it as a compliment that I get under your skin.’
‘You do not get under my skin,’ Alex huffed, before realising that her fists were clenched into balls, hidden as they were by Louis’s jacket. ‘Well, if you do then it’s only because I find it frustrating that you could help us—that you spend your professional life saving people, even if your personal life is in the gutter—and yet you stand on the sidelines and refuse to get involved.’
‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ Louis bit out. ‘You’re looking at me like some kind of white knight, but there’s a reason Jean-Baptiste has that reputation and I don’t. Besides, as I was saying before, I couldn’t help you even if I wanted to. My mother might have left control of Rainbow House—or, more to the point, the Lefebvre Group—to me in her will, but not before my father had her insert a clause making one further stipulation.’
‘Stipulation?’
‘I have to be married.’
‘Married? You?’
He simply shrugged. ‘Quite. So you see there’s no point looking to me to rescue you. Unless you care to marry me then I’m the last person who can help you.’
‘YOU MUST BE DRUNK.’ The disdainful wrinkle of her nose cut him far more than it should. ‘As usual.’
‘Most probably,’ he lied smoothly, knowing he couldn’t blame her low opinion of him entirely on the media.
But the truth was that he hadn’t had a drink in months, maybe even the best part of a year. And even then it had been a rare brandy with a close friend. Ironic how easily water could be mistaken for vodka, if that was what aligned better with people’s assumptions.
Strange thing was that he hadn’t missed the alcohol or the wild parties. The latter had never made him feel any less alone, whilst the former had never even made a dent in the block of ice that had encased his heart for as long as he could remember. Or at least ever since his mother’s...death. But, then, he’d never wanted it to.
Until recently.
If he’d been able to foresee how his first few dates with the it-girls of the moment would have resulted in a sex story that would define his playboy reputation for the next decade and a half, he might have thought twice about something that had been meant to be harmless, private fun.
Now