Chapter Two
The prince strode back down the aisle as if he owned the plane and returned.
“I’d like to sit by the window,” Stephanie said.
“Of course, go ahead. Then I’ll get to sit between two lovely ladies.” After she slid over, he settled in the middle seat. He fastened his seat belt, then turned to me. “You haven’t attached your seat belt. You had better fasten it now before we take off.”
I quickly snapped it in place, enjoying a whiff of his expensive cologne. At least he was paying attention to me now.
“Where will you be staying in Paris?” he asked.
“Our hotel, the Don Jon Vincennes, is just outside of Paris,” Stephanie said
“It’s near the Chateau de Vincennes, which is a castle,” I said. “That’s why I wanted to stay there, but I suppose you live in a castle so that’s nothing special.”
His deep chuckle rolled over my ears. “My family has a palace in Monterra. I’ve visited the palace, but I don’t live there. I mainly stay in the team quarters or in my brother Armando’s condo in Imperia, Monterra’s capital city. He lifted his briefcase from the floor in front of Stephanie as if it weighed no more than a feather and settled it at his feet.
“You have strong arms,” I told him. “I guess you need them for throwing balls.”
“I need to throw the ball as far as I can manage from the sidelines onto the field. I also get exercise helping out on construction sites in my spare time. My father’s an architect and insists I understand all parts of the business.”
Stephanie looked puzzled. “I thought architects mainly drew the plans and handed them over to contractors.”
Prince Mario shook his head. “That’s not all they do. They have to oversee construction, to make sure the specified materials are used and the plans are followed.”
“He’s right,” I said. “My father’s a contractor, and he often works with an architect.”
“What does he build?” Prince Mario asked.
“Mostly apartments and three-bedroom homes.”
Stephanie had met him and seemed to think he was okay, but I couldn’t quite figure him out. My insides were all jumbled like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. I drew in a deep breath.
Stephanie leaned forward. “Do you visit the palace often, Your Highness, er Prince Mario?”
“You don’t have to call me Your Highness. That’s not necessary, and neither is calling me Prince Mario, not after all you and I went through together after my passport disappeared. Just plain Mario will do—for both of you.”
With his dark hair, soulful brown eyes, and a tastefully trimmed scruff, he was anything but plain.”
He smiled, making my heart flutter. It was exciting to be on a first name basis with a prince. I’d feel strange calling a prince by his first name, but I was relieved I didn’t have to keep saying Prince Mario or Your Highness.
Stephanie didn’t seem nervous around him, but I’d probably have that jittery feeling in my stomach until she and I were alone in our hotel room.
Mario turned slightly to face her. “Since I travel often with my team, I only visit the palace occasionally. My aunt and uncle have six children, who keep things lively.”
“Do your parents live in the capital city?” I asked.
“They live in Barcelona, Spain, but in a house, not a castle. My father is the king’s brother, but he prefers to make his own way as an architect.”
“So how did you get selected for the Monterra team?” I asked.
“My family sent me to be trained at the Ajax Football Academy De Toekomst.”
I didn’t keep up with sports much. “I never heard of it. Where is it?”
“In the Netherlands. Several great football players have come from there. Professional recruiters would come scouting while we practiced. They often drafted players right from there.”
“So, they don’t start out on college teams like they do in America?” Stephanie asked.
Mario shook his head.
Stephanie leaned closer, her eyes opened wide. “We watched you play last night on TV. No wonder you’re the star of the team.” She was obviously caught up in hero worship. All it took was a good-looking body and being part of a famous team. He looked gorgeous and strong, and his smile captivated me, too.
“How old were you when you went there?” I asked.
Mario sat tall, his broad chest and shoulders filling the seat. “My teammate and best friend, Gino Campo, and I were chosen to attend when we were in our early teens. They take players as young as nine. Sometimes a good player is recruited by a professional team by the time he’s seventeen.”
“We don’t have anything like that in the States,” Stephanie said. “What was it like? Did you study anything else but soccer?”
Mario shook his head. “Here it’s football, not soccer. Although the school includes other subjects, my father took me out at sixteen and insisted I attend the Polytechnic University of Catalonia in Barcelona to study architecture.”
“Oh,” Stephanie said. “Doesn’t your family feel you have a future in football?”
“My father wants me to join him in his business in Barcelona. At least I have something to fall back on when I retire from football.”
“It looks like you have it made,” I said.
I leaned back. He was not only a football star, but after studying architecture, he must be smart as well. I wasn’t really into sports and especially not soccer. Other girls had clustered around sports stars in my high school, egotistical young men full of their accomplishments. Prince Mario had not only gone out of his way to help us, but he was quite companionable. However, as a prince and a sports star, he moved in circles far above me.
The plane moved toward the runway. Once there, it moved faster and faster. I always enjoyed takeoffs. I felt as if I were racing along with the plane.
I watched out the window. Soon we were aloft. The engine made a steady hum—well louder than a hum, but it sounded even so I relaxed.
Mario pointed toward the window. “Did you visit the volcano? Teide is the tallest mountain in Spain.”
I nodded. “I took the helicopter tour over Teide National Park.” I’d been so excited to take this trip I hadn’t expected to miss the States but riding in a Bell helicopter made in Fort Worth, Texas, had felt like a touch of home. “The guide said Mount Teide erupted in 1706 and destroyed a whole town. However, this time it just sat there. I’d love to see one erupting.”
“I hope it won’t today,” Mario said. “At least not until we’re farther away. Even though we won’t be flying over it, I wouldn’t want volcanic ash sucked into the plane’s engines.”
Mario beckoned to the stewardess. “Would you please serve us champagne?” He touched my hand, sending a spark of awareness through me, then focused his dark brown eyes on my face. “I hope you’d like some.”
“Thanks, I would.” I was really enjoying being with him.
The stewardess returned and served us from a tray holding three glasses of the pale liquid.
The sparkling bubbles in the champagne tickled my throat. I reached to set the glass down on tray in front of me, and the glass tipped, spilling the champagne onto his bare knees. Now I’d done it. Why did I have to be so clumsy?
“Ooh, that’s cold,” he said and tried to move his legs away from me, but there wasn’t that much room, even in first class seats.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, wishing I could disappear. I could feel my face getting hot.
“Don’t worry,” Mario said, trying to wipe his knees and thighs with the tiny cocktail napkin. “It was a shock at first, but I’m sure the cleaners can remove any stains from my shorts.”
“I’ll be happy to pay for dry cleaning,” I said.
“Don’t worry. The cost will be minimal compared to taking care of one of my suits.”
Hoping to distract him, I asked, “Were the Canary Islands named after the birds?” I asked. “I saw yellow ones, green ones with brown markings, and even a blue one.”
Mario shook his head, then grabbed both mine and Stephanie’s napkins and patted his shorts. “The name may have come from Canaria. The Latin word for dog is canis. Some historians claim there used to be lots of wild dogs on one of the islands.”
I pulled out my notebook and added that information.
“You sure are writing a lot down,” he said. “Do you have to make a report of some kind for your work?”
I shook my head. “I’m a librarian, but I love to travel, and I like to write travel articles. I’ve had a few published, but I want to do more.”
He had given me useful information and was being very helpful by getting us on a flight to Paris. He had a silver ring with an intricate, raised design, and from the looks of his silk shirt, probably by Armani, and fine leather shoes, he was a very wealthy prince.
Later, the landing at Orly Airport was smooth. “How far are we from Paris?” I asked.
“About twelve miles,” Mario said.
Stephanie piped up. “Surely, they have busses or shuttles to the city.”
“I’ve arranged a limousine,” Ernesto said.
“We will see you to your hotel,” Mario said.
“Thank you for getting us on this flight. I really appreciate that, but anything else would be too much trouble,” I said.
“I insist,” Mario countered, and that was that. As we walked through Orly Airport, we passed a man muttering in some foreign language. He looked perplexed.
Mario approached him and asked him something in words I didn’t understand. Mario studied the boarding pass the man held, pointed to a booth, and beckoned the man to come with us. At the customs booth, Mario translated the clerk’s questions, spoke to the man, and related the information to the clerk, who let the man pass through.
After we showed our passports and answered questions from the clerk, we headed toward the exit. Mario explained that the man spoke Catalan instead of Spanish and Catalan was the language used in the Spanish province where Barcelona was located.
Outside the airport, after a limousine pulled up, a wiry little chauffeur bustled around loading our bags and holding the doors for us. Mario slid in next to me. He smelled nice, and his thigh touching mine sent a frisson of awareness through my whole body. What was I thinking? I didn’t need to be attracted to a spoiled rich man. He might have good looks and muscles, and he was well mannered and gracious, but I wasn’t into sports stars.
“Is there anything special you want to see in Paris?” Mario asked.
“I want to visit the Louvre,” Stephanie said. “And I have an appointment at the American Embassy to talk about a possible job there.”
“And I want to see Maxims,” I added. “We have a week to see all the sights.”
Mario grinned. “I always like to visit Maxims. Their food is divine.”
“I read somewhere,” Stephanie said, “that the movie star Bridget Bardot walked in there barefoot and caused quite a stir.”
“They do have a dress code,” Mario said. “We could take you both there after practice one day. Ernesto and I will wear suits and ties.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful of you,” Stephanie said.
My heart beat faster. It would be thrilling to visit that famous place but going there with a prince who was a football star would be even better. I remembered he didn’t like redheads. Maybe Stephanie could help me with makeup so my hair wouldn’t matter. I wasn’t going to worry about that. I was going to live in the moment. What the heck. I loved adventure, and I couldn’t resist seeing Maxims while in Paris.
Mario and Ernesto escorted us into our hotel. Luckily, they didn’t have a problem with my credit card or Stephanie’s. That left us with cash to ride the Paris Metro and see some of the city.
As we got ready for bed in a room with lavender walls and purple, silk draperies, Stephanie asked, “What do you think of Prince Mario?”
“He’s a bit arrogant, but he went out of his way to get us on the plane. He acts like he should control everything, but he can’t be in line for the throne if the king has six children.”
Stephanie brushed her hair. “He spent a lot of time talking with you. I think he’s interested.”
“No way. He was just talking with me to pass the time. We probably won’t see him and Ernesto again, but I don’t care. We’re finally here just steps from the fabulous Chateau de Vincennes.” I held up a brochure I’d picked up in the lobby. “This tells the history of the castle. Did you know it was originally built as a hunting lodge in the Forest of Vincennes for King Louis VII in the thirteenth century, but was almost demolished in 1791 by a mob like the Bastille prison was in 1789?”
“Why?”
“Because they were going to make the Chateau another place to keep political prisoners. It says here the original castle had six towers and three gates. That was the first time builders used rebar in the construction of a keep. I wonder if Prince Mario knows that.”
Stephanie laid her brush down. “That will give you something to talk about the next time you see him.”
“Just because they said they might take us to Maxim’s doesn’t mean they will. After all, they must practice pretty hard. They’d be tired after doing that all day.”
Stephanie and I called our families to let them know we’d arrived safely. Curious, I checked Prince Mario out on the internet. As Stephanie said, everything he said was true. He was the son of King Dominic’s brother, but the king’s three sons and Mario’s father were ahead of him in line for the throne. Several pictures of him with different beautiful woman reminded me not to expect he’d take more than a passing interest in me. We slid between fresh-smelling sheets. After all the excitement of meeting a prince, I was ready to relax and fell asleep soon after my head hit the pillow.
I slept in the next morning. Stephanie woke me and pointed to the clock. “The breakfast buffet will be closed if we don’t hurry.” Of course, she was already dressed, with her makeup perfectly applied.
I dressed, put my hair into a pony tail, and swiped on some lipstick.
Stephanie stared at me. “Is that all you’re going to do before you go out?”
“You’re as bad as my mother. She’s always after me to look my best so I can attract a prospective husband and get married. She wanted me to major in college in something other than literature.”
“Well, that got you the job as a librarian, and now that you’re going for your masters in library science, you could be head librarian someday,” Stephanie said.
“I’m looking forward to that. What I’d like to do is travel and write articles about places I visit, but it would be hard to make a living that way.”
Stephanie smiled. “At least you get to travel. I’m so glad you talked me into this trip. Let’s get you made up so you’ll shine so bright Prince Mario will have to take notice.”
As a kid, I’d been more used to climbing trees than trying out makeup. Now I felt like a dandelion next to a rose. “More makeup will not make me a raving beauty.”
“At least put on some blush and mascara. Your eyelashes are barely noticeable without it.”
I grumbled but did as she asked.
Stephanie answered a knock on the door and returned to me with flowers and a card. “It’s addressed to you. Here, see what it says. Have you already charmed a secret admirer?”
I shook my head and grasped the card. Stephanie stood beside me as I read it.
“For two lovely ladies, hoping the smell will freshen your room. I’d like to take you both out for drinks this afternoon. Please call the number below if you would like to accompany me.” It was signed, Mario Fiorelli.
By the time I’d put the flowers in water, we barely made it to the breakfast buffet for fruit, cereal, and bread before the buffet closed. I filled my plate, helped myself to a banana from a bowl of fruit and sat down in front of the long counter against the wall with places set in front of each chair. I’d just taken a bite of their marvelous homemade bread, when I looked up to see Mario with his bodyguard standing beside him. My heart skipped a beat.
“What – what are you doing here?” I asked, glad I’d taken time with my makeup. Mario’s smile was mesmerizing. Thank goodness, I had on nice pants and a designer silk blouse. It was worth the price I paid to see him look me over and smile. “I – I was going to call you about going out for drinks. We’d love to.”
“I didn’t want to wait that long,” Mario said. “It’s Sunday, and we’re not practicing today. Ernesto suggested you ladies might like to visit the Louvre today, and since the metro system might be confusing, instead of meeting for drinks, I thought we’d take you there. I’m not much on art, but I’d be willing to be your guide.”
“That’s so nice of you,” Stephanie said.
“Yes, we’d enjoy that,” I said, trying not to gawk at his broad chest and muscular arms. It made me uncomfortable to have someone dislike me because of some other person I resembled. I tried to tell myself I wasn’t interested in him, but judging from his bright smile, he was starting to see me as a different person from the redhead he obviously had bad feelings about.
Quickly, we finished eating, and twenty minutes later, Mario and Ernesto ushered us into another limousine. At my request, Ernesto found an ATM machine, so we could get more euros.
After buying tickets, Mario led us to a large courtyard surrounded by three-story buildings on three sides. Fountains played, the streams sparkling in the sunlight.
Mario pointed to the large glass pyramid in the middle. “Innovation and modern architecture is fine by itself, but that seems out of place.”
“What would you have designed?”
“I’d match the French chateau style of the surrounding buildings with their decorative carvings along the roof line.”
I rode down the escalator with the others, and we walked to see the exhibits. In one room I marveled at a huge painting of court scene with a lot of well-dressed people. I was about to take a flash picture, but a guide quickly informed me it was not allowed. Hopefully, there was enough lighting to do without the flash. I had to move way back to photograph the whole picture. I asked the guide how big it was. He said it was around six meters by almost ten meters.
“How much is that in feet?” I asked.
Patiently, he explained it was about twenty feet by thirty-two feet.
“It’s titled the Coronation of Napoleon, but it looks like he is going to crown Josephine,” I said.
“The pope was originally scheduled to crown Napoleon,” the guide explained, “but at the last minute, Napoleon actually crowned himself. The painter decided to show the emperor crowning Josephine instead.”
“Where is the Mona Lisa?” Stephanie asked.
After the guide gave us directions, we walked down a hall lit by a many-paned ceiling sky light. Ensconced in a glass case the guide said was bulletproof, the painting had an intricately designed frame. Due to the circular wood railing and the people surrounding it, I couldn’t get very close, but with my zoom lens I was able to get a good picture.
Overwhelmed with all I saw, I knew I’d need to spend another day here, but Mario’s eyes were beginning to glaze over. Seeing he wasn’t really into this, I appreciated his patience.
As we left the museum, a gleaming sporty car pulled up in front. A driver stepped out. “As you requested, I have brought your Ferrari, Your Highness.”
“It has the same prancing horse logo, but it’s a four-seater,” I said.
“They just came out with that model in September 2016. Get in, and I’ll take you for a ride.” He held the door open for me.
I slid in easily over the smooth gray leather seat. “It has a pretty interior.”
“I had it specially made with Ingrid grey upholstery.”
“You mean it was named after the famous actress, Ingrid Bergman?”
Mario nodded and slid behind the wheel. “Ever since Roberto Rossellini presented his bride with a Ferrari made to his specifications, they’ve called that shade Ingrid grey.”
After Stephanie and Ernesto climbed into the back seat, Mario insisted I sit beside him. He maneuvered the car through Paris streets. He took curves pretty fast, but I couldn’t help noticing his skill in maneuvering the vehicle, even through busy traffic as we neared our hotel.
He and Ernesto escorted us inside. In the lobby, he led us to the elevator, and then took my hand in his large one. He held it gently. “I have practice tomorrow, but would you like to have a late dinner at Maxim’s tomorrow night? We can pick you up at seven-thirty.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “I’d love to go, wouldn’t you, Stephanie?”
“Oh, yes. That would be wonderful.”
“We’ll see you then.” He squeezed my hand, then let go. “And I almost forgot. I’ll have two tickets for the game against France reserved for you. Ask at the desk when you get there.”
“Where is the stadium?” I asked.
The is France's national stadium. It’s located in , a Parisian suburb. I heard it seats over 81,000. I’ll be busy getting ready for the game, but I’ve ordered a limousine to take you there,” he said.
Wow. It was nice to be treated royally. I found myself wishing he’d hold my hand longer as I pushed the elevator button.
As soon as Stephanie and I entered our room, I pulled out the one fancy dress I’d brought. I held it in front of me as I stood before the mirror. At least the green looked good with my hair. “I wish this looked more special.”
“I’ve got just the thing for that,” Stephanie said. She pulled out a green pendant, surrounded by tiny white diamonds with two little green stones on each side of the gold chain above it.
“But I wouldn’t want to wear your emerald necklace. Don’t you want to wear it tomorrow night?”
Stephanie shook her head. “My dress is black. I can wear anything with it. Besides, those
aren’t emeralds. They’re helenite, made from crystals spewed up when Mount St. Helens erupted in Washington State.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate it. And I’d love it if you’d help me with makeup.”
Stephanie smiled. “I’ll be glad to. I think His Highness has taken a shine to you.”
“He’s being nice while he’s here, but I’m sure he’ll forget about us as soon as a cosmopolitan beauty catches his eye.”
Stephanie looked at me. “Don’t count yourself out. Think positive.”
I enjoyed a soak in the luxurious pink tub with some bubble bath crystals smelling like jasmine. That soothed my neck and my feet.
The next morning after breakfast, I headed to the concierge to ask about all the booths I’d seen across the way.
She smiled and, in very good English, she said, “It’s like what you’d call a flea market. Some items are used, and some are new. You’ll find anything from silverware and plates to scarves, and even clothes for sale.
Stephanie and I couldn’t wait to explore and headed over there. She picked up a green and gold paisley silk scarf and held it next to my face. “This looks good on you. You should buy it and wear it to the game.”
I shook my head, remembering the high school football star who’d appeared to be interested in me, but only went on one date with me. “Mario’s just being polite. He’ll forget me as soon as he gets on the field.”
“Well, of course,” Stephanie said. “Don’t you want him to keep his mind on the game?”
“You’re right,” I said and fished out some euros for the scarf. I picked up two purple ones. We can wave these at the game. I hope his shoulder doesn’t give him trouble.”
I saw a thick woolen scarf with borders of gold fleur de leis on a gray background that I couldn’t resist buying. It was nice and warn. I could wear it folded in half or open it to cover my arms and chest all the way to my waist in case I got chilly at the game.
Back at the hotel, we visited the concierge again and picked up brochures for places to visit, including one for the Chateau de Vincennes. We spent the afternoon planning our itinerary for the rest of our trip.
Stephanie had made an appointment with someone at the American Embassy to inquire about a job. I went with her to encourage her. “I’m crossing my fingers for you.” I waited in the lobby while a young man in a suit escorted her down a hall.
I was reading a brochure about services for American travelers when she returned, her shoulders slumping. “Well,” she said, “It was worth a try. At least they have my application on file.”
“I’m sorry that didn’t work out. I know you really wanted it.”
“Maybe I can write them in a few months to see if they have any vacancies.”
That evening in our hotel room, she fixed my makeup. Looking in the mirror, I had to admit, she’d done wonders, but was it enough to make a memorable impression on a handsome prince?
At seven-thirty, we waited in the lobby. When I saw Mario, my heart skipped a beat. He looked marvelous in a gray suit and a pink tie. I hoped he liked the way I looked. He smiled engagingly and held out his hand. “Shall we go?”
As Stephanie and I walked to a rented Mercedes with Mario and Ernesto, I couldn’t believe my luck. I was going to Maxim’s with a prince. I felt like I was riding on air all the way to the restaurant.
So many cars were clustered at Maxims’ entrance that we had to park a block away and walk. On the way, we approached a casually dressed young woman wearing a baby carrier on her back. She was struggling to support it with one hand while pushing the energetic little boy’s hand away from her earring. Apparently, the toddler had undone the buckle on the strap connecting the carrier.
Instead of asking Ernesto to assist the young mother, Mario hurried over to fix the strap. He repositioned it so the buckle lay next to her back where it would be hard for the baby to unfasten it again.
The tired-looking mother gave him a weak smile. “Thank you so much. I didn’t realize he was able to undo the buckle. I’d better hurry home before he tries again.”
“You’re welcome, madam,” he said and returned to Stephanie, Ernesto, and me. We continued on to the famous restaurant.
Maxims was all that I’d heard and then some. White tablecloths covered round tables, set with linen napkins and crystal goblets. Blue poles reached to an ornately painted ceiling. The walls were a continuous mural of women with bulging bosoms in lace-trimmed gowns and cherubs. Little lamps on the tables were reflected in a huge, round wall mirror with a fancy gold frame.
I made notes and took pictures, then studied the menu. Glad I knew a little French, I gasped at the prices—appetizers started at twenty-seven euros. I figured the exchange rate and gasped again.
Mario said, “Don’t worry about the expense. You’re a special lady, and I want you to enjoy yourself.” He asked for a bottle of white wine and insisted on a very dry type. “My teammate, Gino, is meeting us here. That’s the way he and I like it.”
Since I didn’t care for dry wine, I’d let Mario, Stephanie, and Ernesto drink it.
A sturdy looking man with tan skin, dark hair, a dark mustache, and a mischievous grin walked up. Mario introduced him as Gino Campo.
He and Mario talked for a moment about last week’s game with Spain. Gino clapped a hand on Mario’s shoulder. “That was a great kick you made at the last minute.”
Mario winced, but didn’t say anything. I hoped he wasn’t hurting too badly. Mario poured Gino a glass of wine and grinned. “Thanks. The goal you made earlier also helped us win.”
Without asking what we liked, Mario ordered confit of duck foie gras with kumquats for an appetizer and roasted fillet of beef with puffed potatoes and black truffles. “Wait a minute,” I said. “I’ll taste the appetizer, except I’d rather have roasted deer with beetroot and cabbage chutney.” Just because he was a prince, I wasn’t going to let him decide what I ate.
He looked affronted. “But the roasted fillet of beef is their specialty. You should have that.”
I insisted on the roasted deer. “I can have filet of beef in the U.S. anytime. I want to try something different. However, I will try the truffles.” Seeing the price, I felt a little guilty until I remembered he was a highly-paid sports star.
When the appetizers arrived, I tasted the duck foie gras and didn’t care for it or the kumquats, which were sour.
I’d always wondered what truffles were and asked the waiter. He said they were a type of mushroom. When the food arrived, the truffles looked like blackberries with little bumps. I inhaled their interesting aroma and bit into one. It tasted sort of garlicky.
After finishing his glass of wine, Gino asked Stephanie to dance. Mario turned to me. “Would you like to dance?” I nodded, and he led me out onto the floor. Feeling like Cinderella, I hoped this would last long past midnight. His one hand was warm against my back, and his other hand held mine against his chest as he glided us across the floor to some sweet jazz music. He smelled of sandalwood. I leaned my face against his cheek, enjoying the closeness. I could go for this guy in a big way, but I doubted he’d prefer me over all the beautiful women he must have dated. This was a marvelous evening I’d remember always.
He smiled at me. “You fit so nicely in my arms, and your hair smells good.”
I liked hearing that. He hadn’t made any more remarks about it being red. I wondered what his ex-girlfriend had done or said to merit his animosity. He was smiling now. He was fun to be with. Maybe he was beginning to like me in spite of my red hair. Too bad we moved in different worlds.
Mario said goodbye to Gino, and then drove us to our hotel. After we arrived, both Mario and Ernesto gallantly held open car doors for us and held out their arms for us to grasp while walking to the hotel door.
The uniformed doorman bowed and said, “Good evening, ladies and Prince Mario. He also said, Good evening, sir to Ernesto, but didn’t bow. Stephanie walked inside and waited for me.
Before we could enter, Mario’s phone rang. He pulled it out, “It’s Gino.” He listened. “Damn it.”