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I smile at his possessiveness. "No one's in my bed but me," I reply, feeling a blush creep up my face. The previous night, I had been a whirlwind of passion, and the prospect of Philippe already missing me, a thrill of excitement through my nerves.
"Well then, why don't you let me come join you?" Philippe suggests, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper.
My heart skips a beat. Part of me wants to say yes, to throw caution to the wind and spend another night wrapped up in his arms. But my logical part hesitates.
"I would have loved to, Philippe, really, any other time would be great. But I must go back to New York. I'm set to perform in Saint Petersburg at the end of this week, and with all the preparations still to be done..."
"Tatiana, about that," Philippe begins, and I can tell from the way his tone has shifted, placid, guilty, apologetic, that what he wishes to speak about isn't coming to him easily.
"I don't know how to ask you this, but I have a personal request of you, a big one. I hope you will consider it. I know it’s a huge inconvenience, but Tatiana, it would mean the world to me and my father."
"Your father?" Intrigued, I stop twirling my hair.
"I have a special request for your talents tonight. My father is hosting a dinner party at the estate, and he would be honored if you could perform."
Butterflies flutter in my belly. "Oh, Philippe, I'm flattered. But must it be tonight? Couldn’t we arrange it for after I return...?"
Philippe continues, "You may not know,cara mia, but my father's health is declining." I can hear him breathing in the silence. But I give him time, believing he's finding the right words. "Terminal cancer. There's not a doctor in the world who can help."
"Oh, Philippe," my heart breaks for him. What does one say when news like this comes your way? There are no words of comfort. Every thought, every syllable feels a waste. I pray he understands what I can only feel to express, and so, I am the one to remain silent this time.
"He and my mother shared a great passion for opera before she passed. I've told him all about your voice, and he is eager to meet the woman who has captured his son's attention."
I smile, picturing the formidable mafia boss wanting to hear me sing. "I'm touched, he would think of me. Please let your father know I gladly accept the invitation."
"Thank you, Tatiana,” he swallows, “I'll send a car for you at seven. There is one more thing - I know you are set to leave for Russia soon. If you need to return home to pack, I can have my men escort you tonight, straight to New York after the dinner."
For a moment, the news about his father caused my travel arrangements to slip my mind. "Yes, of course. I should go home, but tomorrow morning is as good a time as any."
"Then tonight, I'll extend the hotel for you, and my men will take you in the morning."
"Thank you, Philippe," I place my hand over my heart, genuinely touched. Even with so much on his plate, his need to provide for my comfort is heart-rending.
We exchange affectionate goodbyes. Then I immediately called my parents, who, as usual, put me on speaker when they were together. "Mamma, papà, non tornerò a casa stasera," – Mom, Dad, I'll not be coming home this evening. “A patron of mine, Philippe Accardo, has invited me to perform for his family before I return to New York. It’s such a wonderful opportunity. So I’ll see you tomorrow instead.”
They voiced their concern, but I managed to reassure them. “And Mom, could you please take my red gown to the dry cleaners today? I’m just worried it might not be ready in time to pack it for Russia?" After thanking my mom and blowing kisses to them both, we hang up.
I walk over to the window of my hotel room and take a deep, calming breath. Tonight will be my first glimpse into Philippe's family life, and my nerves are as busy as those of the people on the street below me.
I spend the remainder of the afternoon resting and preparing myself mentally for dinner. However, any appetite completely disappears as I imagine meeting Philippe's father, a mafia boss.
What will he be like? Stern and cold like the villains in the movies? Or a more complex man, defined by more than just his criminal empire?
I'm afraid he'll find me unsuitable for his son and that my middle-class upbringing and artistic dreams will seem frivolous or weak. But I remind myself that Philippe cares for me deeply. His father raised him to be a leader amongst men.
Surely, he'll recognize the strength of our potential bond, even if our worlds seem mismatched.
As evening falls, I dress with care, choosing an elegant white gown that flatters my figure. I style my hair in soft waves and apply makeup to enhance my eyes and lips. My reflection revealsa graceful, confident woman. But inside, my heart pounds with nervous excitement, eager to see Philippe again.
I was scared to meet his father for the first time.
The car arrives right on time. I smooth my dress and take a deep breath before stepping outside. This night will set the course for my future with Philippe. I can only pray his father sees me as I truly am - a woman worthy of his son's affections.
The sleek black car winds through the hills overlooking the city lights below. My driver is a stern man who offers little conversation, leaving me to my spiraling thoughts.
We pass through a set of imposing wrought iron gates, which I notice are carved in some form of a family emblem, and proceed up a long, tree-lined driveway. Then it comes into view - a sprawling villa lit up like a golden jewel against the night sky.
Every window glows with warm light as the house is on full display. I step out of the car and crane my neck to take in the view, imagining the thousands that could be entertained here. Around me, Bentleys, Maseratis, Ferraris, Hummers - they're all pulling up with women in dazzling diamonds and men with Cuban cigars.
