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"Thank you, Philippe," I reply, touched by his words.
We continue driving, our journey taking us through the city's dark, deserted streets, away from the bright lights and bustling crowds.
"Where are we going?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"To paradise," he replies cryptically, his eyes never leaving the road as he switches gears. He begins driving faster, and the hum of the engines behind me grows louder.
I glance behind us, noticing that the convoy of cars still follows, their headlights forming a spectral procession in the night. The sense of mystery they imbue heightens my anticipation for the destination Philippe has planned for us.
"Are all these people coming with us?" I inquire, gesturing towards the tailing vehicles.
"Of course. They're here to protect us and ensure our safety," Philippe answers, his voice steady and reassuring.
"Protection? From what?"
"Let's just say it's part of the lifestyle," he responds enigmatically, his blue eyes glinting with a hint of danger. The thought sends a frisson of excitement up my spine.
"Okay then, let's enjoy tonight," I say, deciding not to push further. Tonight is about adventure, not solving mysteries.
Chapter 3
Philippe
As we drive down the winding streets, the city lights cast a glow on Tatiana's face, highlighting her youthful features. While she stood on stage, with the distance between us, I thought of her as an epitome of grace and old-charm beauty. Up closer, she appears younger than I imagined.
As we talk, it becomes evident that she is wiser than her years. For a person so young to have a voice that big is incomprehensible to me.
She lets out an occasional genteel laugh and claps her hands ever-so-lightly on her lap, unable to contain her excitement. The most beautiful thing about her, though, is her mouth. Those lips, luscious and pink, become my natural focus point.
More than once, I wondered if I'd ever have the pleasure of tasting them. When she speaks, her words flow with precision,each syllable formed with a subtle grace that complements the musical quality of her voice.
She's Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe and every beautiful woman to ever exist on earth, wrapped into one, and I'd be damned if I can't make her mine.
"Tell me more about your love for opera," she asks, finishing her story about how she came to perform tonight.
I glance at Tatiana, her gaze locked on me, waiting for my response. My grip on the steering wheel tightens as an unexpected wave of desire washes over me.
"Music has always been close to my heart," I clear my throat. "It's where I find solace when life becomes... overwhelming."
"Is there a particular reason for that?" she questions gently, sensing the vulnerability in my tone.
"Let's just say," I pause, searching for the right words, "it connects me to someone important who is no longer with us."
Tatiana reaches out and places her hand on mine, her touch warm and reassuring. I can't help but feel a deeper connection forming between us.
It calls to me, drawing out the things I wish remained unsaid.
"Actually," I admit, swallowing hard as memories flood my mind, "it's my mother. She had the most beautiful voice. Singing was her passion, and she shared that love with me." I can't bring myself to mention how her life was cut short by my father's enemies.
"Philippe, I'm so sorry," Tatiana murmurs, her eyes brimming with empathy. "You said had? She must have been an incredible woman."
"Thank you," I reply, my voice cracking with emotion. "She truly was."
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks delicately.
I shake my head, knowing she's watching me. I can see the toll our conversation has taken on both of us, so I decide to shift the focus back to our destination for the night.
Choosing the most deserted route, just for the thrill of it, I turn into a narrow lane winding through a thick canopy of ancient trees that loom overhead, branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. I put down the windows and turned off the music.
