Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

“No. That’s not solely us. Many do that in France, especially the smaller towns. I know it’s different from the States, where it’s usually a procession of cars.” He let out a long breath and studied the other masks on the wall. “My mother told me that people walk behind a hearse to remember that they’re alive.”

I touched one of the masks near my hand. “I think that’s a good way to look at it.”

“It is, and maybe. . .the walking together, gives us the feeling of not being alone.”

I let go of the mask. “That’s the best time to feel that way.”

“They call the street, that goes up to the church yard, Chemin de l’Égalité. It means Path of Equality. We’re all equal, when it comes to death.”

He sighed. “But that’s enough of that.”

Jean-Pierre took my hand and turned it over, exposing my palm. “We haven’t discussed the good news. You’re pregnancy.”

“We haven’t had the time with the bombing and the funeral planning.” I swallowed. “I’m still processing it.”

“You’re nervous?”

“I am.”

“So am I.” He held my hand. “I don’t know what’s in our future, but I know you’ll be by my side.”

“I will.”

“What do you want our child to be?”

“A healthy baby.”

“Lies.”

“In the end, I do.”

“But you’re thinking about a boy or girl.”

“Maybe. Well. . .I have been. I think a boy would be cool, but then sometimes I… daydream about you holding our little girl. Both make my heart swoon.”

“I think a daughter would be easier.”

“Only because you’ve never been a woman.”

“All you need to do is spoil girls. They’re princesses.”

I laughed. “Spoiled princesses. No. I don’t want to have that.”

“If she’s my daughter, that’s what she’ll be.” Jean-Pierre shrugged. “So what if she’d be spoiled rotten? No one would question her.”

“Oh no. We’re not raising a spoiled rich girl.”

“She’s not spoiled,” he said already defending our unborn daughter.

I shook my head.

He hit me with an intense gaze. “I love to hear you laugh again.”

“I love laughing again.”

“You’ll laugh more.”

“And what about the Lion?”

“Leave that to me.”

“I want to help, if I can.”

“You are.” He touched my stomach and let out a long breath. “I never thought. . .”

I placed my hand over his. “You never thought what?”

“I never thought I would be a father.” He raised my hand to his mouth, turned it over, and kissed my palm. “Thank you, reine.”

He left another kiss. His breath brushed against my wrist. My body tingled with heated energy. That was the magic of Jean-Pierre. Something so small, made my body crazy.

He pulled away. “Let’s go. I want to show you something.”

“What?” I held his hand and followed him out of the boutique. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

We climbed into his limo.

The driver took us on a journey. I gazed out the window, trying to figure out where we could be going. I was slowly learning my way around Nice. Fields of flowers ran by. A few times the odor of cattle and manure came into the limo.

Minutes later, a small village appeared.

I spotted a few restaurants and stores, but I could tell not many people lived in the area.

And still, we continued further.

Twenty minutes later, we arrived down a long road. One large structure stood on top of a hill. It was as big as a castle. A small one, but still impressive. No other homes were near it.

The limo parked.

He opened the door and helped me out.

Okay. What are we doing?

More vans arrived. Some were our security. Others, I recognized as part of the staff from the Paris penthouse.

He cleared his throat. For some reason, I swore he was nervous. “I bought this for us.”

I opened my mouth, and then I turned back to the castle. “For us?”

“Yes. Well. . .for you. I have enough properties. Only your name is on this one.” He directed his attention to the big structure. “I want you to always have a place in France where you feel safe. One that you consider home. You’re not going to find that in my old houses with all those old memories. . .and Rafael’s interior decorating.”

I wore a silly grin, unable to comprehend how amazing this man continued to be. Just when I thought there could be no limit to Jean-Pierre’s display of love, he showed me he could surprise me again.

“Thank you.” I embraced him, holding that hard body to me. “I love you so much. Why am I so lucky?”

“No, reine. I’m the one that’s lucky.” He ran his fingers through my curls. “We should check out the bedroom. That’s the only place I decorated.”

Heat bloomed through me.

“Interesting.” I gave him a wicked smile.

He lifted his wild gaze to me. Those lovely eyes trapped me like they did the first time. When would I stop craving him so much? When would I stop needing him next to me to breathe? I hoped that moment wouldn’t come soon.