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“Good morning, La Signora Barone. I’ll be your driver today.”
He’s just doing his job so there’s no need to be disrespectful towards him like I am towards his boss. I move my muscles into a polite smile. “Please, come inside. I’ll be ready in an hour.”
Vance shakes his head. “I’ll wait out here.”
“What? Why?”
He shakes his head again and takes a step backwards as if I am diseased or something. I eye him with astonishment before slamming the door shut. I’m trapped in a crazy world.
Once I’m ready I leave the suite and Vance respectfully walks me to the elevator, ushers me through the reception and into the back seat of a black Mercedes. All this without a word being exchanged.
“Where to, La Signora Barone?”
I hate Valentino, but there’s a certain ring to La Signora Barone that I don’t mind the sound of.
“The Basilique du Sacre-Coeur de Montmartre.”
“Okay, ma’am.”
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to go there. I have a feeling that if I pray in that Holy Church all my prayers will be answered. Before I go off to blow all of Valentino’s money, I have to commit myself to God’s hands first so Valentino will just have our marriage annulled and not kill me instead.
Chapter Eight
FRANCESCA
The Basilique du Sacre-Coeur de Montmartre is more fabulous than any photo can convey. I stand at the entry, entranced and awed by its majestic soaring beauty. What a terrible shame that we have stopped building such grand structures.
“Mademoiselle,” a female voice behind me calls.
Before I can turn around to see who it is, Vance is suddenly standing between me and the woman. His right hand is underneath his open coat. The woman jumps back with fear, and a bag full of heart-shaped locks falls from her hands and clatters down the steps. As she bends to retrieve them, I glare at Vance.
“What did you do that for?”
He doesn’t look the least bit remorseful. “No one is to come within a foot of you.”
“Says who?” I mutter furiously, knowing exactly who.
“The Boss-”
“He has no right!”
Vance’s eyes flicker and I can tell he’s displeased by my statement. Well, too bad. I hurry to the woman to help her, but she eyes me suspiciously.
“Don’t be afraid. I want one of those blue ones.” I point to the locks.
She hands me one, and I stick a wad of dollar bills into her hand, smiling at her surprised and grateful face.
“Thank you,” she says. “This is more than-”
“I know.”
Her smile widens, and then she hands me a marker. I tilt my body away from Vance and scribble “Francesca and Thomas” on the lock.
I am Don Barone. I do not share my money, I do not share my drugs, I do not share my goods and I sure as hell do not share my fucking woman.
Valentino’s words echo ominously in my head as I return the marker to the woman. I walk to the balustrade where there are thousands of other locks and add mine to the panel. I feel guilty about my spontaneous reaction to Valentino, and this simple act of love makes me feel less guilty and more connected to Thomas. I wonder what he is doing right now and when the coast will be clear for me to call him.
With the magnificent view overlooking the entire city of Paris behind me, I feel a serene calmness settle upon me as I ascend the ancient stone steps. Someone is either practicing or playing the organ for the love of it, because rich atmospheric tones flow out from the depths of the church and envelop me.