Chapter Three
Mario stood there, frowning.
“What’s the matter? I asked.
“Some son of a bitch, pardon my language, broke into the locker I was using and emptied it out.”
“Oh, that’s awful.”
“Was anything left?” Mario asked Gino, then listened. His mouth dropped open. “Only one dirty jersey with my name and number left on the floor. Everything else is gone. The picture of my sister, Isabella, I had taped to the inside of the door was torn in two and lay on the shelf. Someone probably thought she was a girlfriend.”
Surprised, I asked, “You have your sister’s picture hanging there instead of a girlfriend?”
He ended the call and faced me. “I broke up with my last girlfriend because she cheated and lied about it, so I tore up her picture. I decided Isabella was a better choice to remind me all women aren’t like her.”
“Who do you think trashed your locker? Are any guys on your team vying for your position?”
“I have a good position as vice-captain, but I’m sure some teammates would love to take my place. The captain is retiring. I’ve made more goals than anyone else, so I hope to be named as the next one.” He grinned. “My father would be so proud of me. My teammates occasionally play pranks on each other, leaving a smelly sock in someone else’s locker, but vandals must have done this. I’ll talk to the security guard and call the police.”
He took my hand and kissed it, his lips lingering for half a moment. “Good night. You were such pleasant company this evening, and I’d love to stay and talk longer, but I must get my rest for practice tomorrow. I hope you enjoy your stay in France. I’ll see you at the game Saturday.”
“Thank you for a lovely evening. I enjoyed going to Maxims.” Going there with him had been a great introduction to Paris. Now I looked forward to seeing the Eiffel Tower. It might not be quite as enjoyable with only Stephanie for company, but his Royal Highness probably wouldn’t be seeing me again except at the game.
A moment later, he surprised me. “I’ll take you both on a drive Thursday after practice. I can’t show you what this car can do in the confines of the city.”
After getting ready for bed, I lay down, but could hardly sleep. I kept remembering how it felt to be in his arms. And wonder of all wonders, I’d see him again soon. I looked over at Stephanie. “Did you enjoy dancing with Gino?”
She nodded. “He seems very nice. He said he’s hoping to be named captain after the current one retires.”
“Mario is hoping he’ll get the position. Who decides that?”
“Gino told me the owner does. His father is good friends with the owner, so he hopes that will sway the decision. However, Gino’s worried Mario or another player may be named instead. It’s a coveted position.
The next day we toured the Chateau de Vincennes. I marveled at the height of the connected two towers in the middle, which were much taller than the cone-roofed towers at the edges of the walls. As we toured some of the ruins nearby, the guide said the perimeter of the original walls was over a kilometer. He added that the Marquis de Sade was once imprisoned there.
Thursday afternoon, my phone rang. I caught my breath as I saw Mario’s name on my phone. “Hello,” I said.
“We can pick you up in half an hour and take you both for a ride in my Ferrari,” Mario said.
I smiled. He’d really meant it. “We can meet you in the lobby,” I told him and hung up. We rushed around getting ready, but then the rest of the thirty minutes seemed to drag. Finally, after the desk clerk rang us to come down, he and Ernesto escorted us outside to his red Ferrari with its soft gray upholstery.
I added. “Did the police find out who trashed your locker?”
Mario shook his head. “The bastard must have used gloves. The only fingerprints left on anything were mine.” He yawned. “The police kept me there until two a.m. I didn’t get much sleep. I could barely keep awake long enough to leave a message for the team manager to order more shorts special delivered for the next game.”
As soon as we got out into the country, he stepped on the gas. Through the open window, the wind swept my hair back and wafted in the smell of newly mowed grass. The high-performance engine roared in my ears. This was exhilarating. No wonder he loved this car.
He sped up even more. The speedometer zoomed to 160. My heart beat faster.
“Don’t worry, Mario said. “That’s kilometers, not miles.
I did the math. “But that’s 96 miles an hour. That’s still way too fast for this curving road.”
“So, do you see any police?” He stepped harder on the gas pedal. The engine noise increased.
I’d thought he was a skillful driver, but now my heart was in my throat. “Okay, I’ve seen how fast you can go. Now, can we slow down?”
He grinned. “You haven’t seen anything yet. I can go even faster.”
The Ferrari raced down the two-lane highway, eating up kilometers. Trees seemed to whip by, and posts beside the road were a blur.
A curve appeared ahead. I gasped and clutched his arm. “Mario, please, slow down.” My heart beat even faster.
He shook his head. “This baby will take it in stride.” He leaned forward, his foot pressing down on the accelerator.
A flimsy wooden railing stood on the edge of the hillside on the right. He edged his car toward the center, away from the railing, but not too close to the cliff wall on the opposite side of the road.
I relaxed.
Then a car appeared. Coming from the opposite direction.
“Watch out!” Ernesto shouted.
Mario swerved. I held my breath. Braced my hands on the dashboard.
We missed the other car by a foot. But we hit the railing. The crunching sounds scared me. Then it gave way.
“Damn it,” Mario shouted. His knuckles white on the wheel, he struggled for control.
I gripped the armrest. My stomach churned.
More wood splintered. An airbag popped out, crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe. The airbags spewed gray powder everywhere. The car tipped. We careened down a hillside. I held my breath. Stephanie screamed.
Would we roll over? Catch fire? Or worse, Explode? I held my breath, fearing the worst.
The car kept rolling and rocking. Shoving me from side to side, despite my seat belt. Rocks bounced up beside us. The rough descent jarred my bones and I held my breath. What if we crashed into something?
“Mario, use the brakes!” Ernesto yelled.
“I am, damn it.” he said, but we kept speeding down the hill.
“Watch out for that tree!” I yelled, my heart in my throat.
Mario twisted the wheel. We raced down the hill. We were going so fast. Could he avoid the tree? Or would we all be killed? This was the most exciting vacation I’d had. I didn’t want to die
Finally, we grazed the side of the tree. My ears felt strange. Gradually, the car rolled to a stop on level ground.
“Ow,” Mario exclaimed. “Damn. My shoulder’s hurt.”
“Is everyone else all right?” Ernesto asked.
At last I managed to catch my breath. I pushed down the popped airbag and rubbed my neck. Thank goodness, I hadn’t felt any bones crack. “I think I’m okay. How about you, Stephanie?”
“I’m shook up, but I don’t think I’m hurt. That was worse than a roller coaster.”
Mario shoved the airbag aside and bent to get his foot loose. I leaned over to look at Mario’s left shoulder. He was rubbing it. “Do you think you broke anything?”
Mario shook his head. “It’s probably just a muscle strain. I’ll be okay.”
I stared at him. “If you hadn’t been driving so fast, this wouldn’t have happened. Your Highness,” I added at the last minute. I clamped my mouth shut. Shouldn’t have said that to a prince. Stephanie gasped, and Ernesto cleared his throat.
Now I’d really put my foot in my mouth. So much for impressing Mario. Even though he drove too fast, I’d enjoyed being with him. Was he already comparing me to his redheaded ex-girlfriend?
Mario glared at the windshield. “I wish the highway department had sturdier railings on hillsides.” Then he leaned toward me. “Are you sure you’re all right? I’m sorry I scared you, and I hope you’re not injured anywhere.” He dropped his chin low on his neck. “Guess I shouldn’t have been going so fast.”
Ernesto leaned over the seat. “Your Highness. You really should see a doctor.”
Mario shook his head. “He might say I shouldn’t play in the game on Sunday. I can’t miss it. That’s the last game of the regular season. I’ve got to play. Monterra needs to cinch a spot in the playoffs.”
I touched his right arm as I leaned over to look, feeling the strength in his biceps. “Mario, I think you should at least have it looked at. What if you have a serious injury that won’t heal properly if it’s not taken care of right away?”
Mario felt his shoulder again, then winced. “I’ll put an ice pack on it. I should be fine to play tomorrow. I’ve heard paparazzi here can be pretty persistent—not like in Monterra where they’re forbidden. Here, if they even smell news of an injury to a player, and I’m an important one, they’ll print it.”
He wasn’t saying much about the pain, but from the look on his face, it hurt a lot. Worried he might be seriously injured, I Googled doctors in nearby small towns. After finding one, I checked for restaurants and found one nearby. “Look, there’s a road not too far from where we are. Why don’t we find someplace quiet where you can rest? There’s a restaurant in a nearby town.”
Mario rubbed his shoulder. “I need to check the car first.”
Mario and Ernesto climbed out and walked around the car, examining it.
While they were doing that, I took a chance and arranged an appointment with the doctor who had an office near the restaurant. Luckily, I was able to do it quickly before he got back inside the car.
Mario frowned and shook his head. “It looks terrible, but I think it’s drivable.”
Ernesto touched Mario’s shoulder, and he winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch your injured area. Do you want me to drive?”
“Not on your life. No one touches the wheel except me.”
Mario slid back behind the wheel. “My car’s better off than expected. The front fender is crumpled, and it’s got some ugly scratches on the driver’s side. I sure hope it can be fixed. I see a level road nearby.” He turned on his GPS. “Kelly, speak the name of the restaurant you mentioned.”
I did, and the voice gave Mario directions. He drove the car slowly over the bumpy ground to another road. After we reached the town, I directed him to an intersection close to the doctor’s office. Crossing my fingers, I said. “There’s a doctor’s office next door to the restaurant. We could just ask him to take a look at your shoulder before we walk into the restaurant.”
Mario parked the car, then glared at me. “You tricked me. This is what you had in mind all along.”
“But it’s practically next door to a good restaurant. Since the doctor’s hours are almost over, he won’t take a long time. After he looks at your shoulder, you’ll be free to go.” I hoped Mario would agree. He was mad at me but getting him examined was more important.
“It wouldn’t hurt to get it looked at,” Ernesto said.
“Mario,” Stephanie said. “I think it would be a good idea, just in case you’ve sustained a serious injury.”
Mario frowned. “I can’t be sidelined with an injury. Not with the last game coming up. And I can’t afford to be seen by a doctor who might talk to the press.”
“But he’s expecting you. I made an appointment.”
Mario glared at me. “You had better not have given him my real name.”
“I didn’t. I said you were Mario Smith.”
He just sat there. Well, I wasn’t going to stand on ceremony. I got out and walked around to open his door. I reached across him and took hold of his right hand, trying to ignore the jolt of electricity and the strangeness of tugging a prince, a prince who probably hated my guts now, from his car. “Come on,” I said. “This shouldn’t take long.”
He grumbled but stepped out of the car and walked toward the one-story brick building, rubbing his shoulder. Ernesto, Stephanie, and I followed. A light breeze wafted the smell of marigolds growing along the sidewalk. Oleander bushes beside the doorway had pink blossoms.
Inside, yellow walls brightened up the small reception room. We sat in the unoccupied gold upholstered chairs. The room smelled clean with a faint odor reminiscent of Pine Sol. A pleasant-faced young nurse in a white uniform held out an information form. I took it and was careful to list him as Mario Smith and make up an address in Monterra. I wrote shoulder injury as the reason for the visit, followed him to the examining room, and stood in the doorway next to Ernesto. I hoped Mario hadn’t broken any bones.
The gray-haired doctor, wearing a white coat and glasses, looked professional. “Now how did this happen?”
Mario explained about the car accident.
“Take off your jacket,” the doctor said.
Mario started to, and a look of pain shot across his face. The nurse helped him pull his sleeve off. His shoulder and bicep were massive, but I couldn’t see any bruises or reddening.
The doctor studied Mario’s bare shoulder, then felt it with gloved hands. Mario winced. “We’d better X-ray this,” the doctor said.
The nurse laid a large pad over Mario’s chest and thighs, leaving only his shoulders and arms exposed. “Everyone needs to stand in the hallway.”
The doctor had already stepped out there, so Ernesto and I moved to the doorway. The nurse stepped away from Mario and pressed a button on the wall.
A few minutes later, the doctor studied the X-ray. “I don’t see any hairline cracks. You have a bad sprain. You need to avoid using it for at least a week until it heals. Put an ice pack on it for ten minutes every hour or two for the next seventy-two hours.”
I scribbled those instructions as fast as I could. Mario seemed stoic. He probably wanted to maintain his macho image. He might toss it off as a minor annoyance, but I hoped Ernesto and I could talk him into following the doctor’s instructions.
After the doctor finished and handed him a prescription and some pain medication samples, Mario handed him several bills. “I hope that’s enough.”
The doctor nodded. “That will be plenty.”
Mario said, “Thank you for seeing me immediately. I’d appreciate your confidentiality about this visit. I have an important deal coming up and don’t want anyone suspecting I’m not one-hundred percent.
The doctor frowned. “I’m not in the habit of releasing confidential information. It’s not professional.”
We made it outside as I asked, “Would you like me to order take-out so you don’t have to leave your car, Mario?”
“No one’s eating anything in my Ferrari. I’ll manage. Just have the hostess seat me near the door.”
We entered the restaurant. Pots of English Ivy decorated each table. The hostess showed us to a table and laid out menus. After we were seated, a waiter set glasses of water on the table and left.
“Is your shoulder hurting a lot? I asked.
“It bothers me a little, but I’m okay.” Mario said. His lips formed a thin line, contradicting his words.
“I suggest you take some of those medicine samples the doctor gave you.” After he swallowed a pill, I asked. “Should you really be playing in three days with that shoulder?”
He frowned. “I can’t disappoint the team.”
It was useless to argue with him. The waiter returned, and we ordered.
The bill of fare wasn’t fancy, but the beef stew and crusty rolls were delicious and filling.
Later, after Mario drove us back to our hotel, I suggested he book rooms here where no one knew him.
He shook his head. “I’m staying with the team.
Mario led me a few yards from the desk clerk and took my hand, sending a spark of electricity up my arm. He faced me. “I don’t like the underhanded way you got me to see the doctor, but I guess it was for the best.”
I swallowed, hoping he wasn’t still annoyed with me. “I’m sorry if I made you mad, but I was worried about your shoulder. Don’t forget the ice, tonight”
Ernesto nodded. “I’ll make sure to take care of that.”
Mario squeezed my hand. “I hope you’ll forgive me for not walking you two to your room.” He let go of my hand.
“That’s quite all right,” I said, missing the warmth of his grasp. “Come on, Stephanie. My neck’s a little stiff, and I’m ready to hit the sack.”
Mario looked at me strangely. “You’re going to hit a punching bag? I thought you were tired from all that walking around the Chateau de Vincennes, not to mention being in a wreck.”
Stephanie laughed. I did too.
“It’s an expression,” I said. “It means I’m going to fall into bed.”
“Oh, I see. Well, good night then,” he said.
“I hope you feel better tomorrow,” I added, then turned away.
Mario touched my arm, surprising me. “I have to spend tomorrow practicing, but I’d like for you both to join me for dinner afterward. I’m having my car put in the shop, but I’ll rent one.”
My spirits lifted. He hadn’t said so, but perhaps he was ready to forgive and forget what I’d done. “I’d love that. What time shall we be ready?”
“Quarter to eight. We’ll have the front desk ring you. And I almost forgot. I’ve arranged for a limousine to take you to the game on Saturday. When you get there, ask at the desk for the two tickets I reserved for you.” He took hold of both my hands and pressed a kiss on each one. I wondered what it would be like to have him kiss me on the lips.
“We’ll see you tomorrow night,” I said, then turned away. We headed for our room and were soon in bed. I would have been glad to fetch ice for the prince, just to see him smile again, but I was sure Ernesto would take care of that. At least the prince wouldn’t grumble at Ernesto.
That evening, I wore the green and gold scarf with a gold dress and a gold butterfly clip to hold my hair. I liked seeing a man who was confident about himself, but he sometimes laid it on pretty thick. I’m sure that came from being a prince and a soccer star. I had to keep remembering to call it football, like they did here.
Ernesto drove the four of us in a rented car to the Four Seasons Hotel George V, where we dined at Le Cinq. The interior was amazing, with floor-to-ceiling windows. I breathed in the scent of long-stemmed red roses arranged in more than a dozen tall vases. A Greek statue stood to one side, and a huge chandelier hung from above. We sat in padded French Provincial chairs, wide enough for dresses with several petticoats underneath.
Mario ordered duck fois de gras, this time as a pate served on crackers. I swallowed a gasp at the price of 70 euros. “I don’t care for any, thank you.”
“Order another appetizer then,” Mario said, but I declined.
This time he waited to let me order an entree first. The blue lobster with grapefruit coulis and butter sauce was tasty and filling, but I couldn’t turn down the iced dark chocolate mousse with grilled peanut crisps. When Stephanie whispered how much it cost, I tried to get Mario to cancel the order, but he smiled and said, “I so enjoy watching your eager look as you taste each dish. It’s worth every euro.”
I tried to think back, hoping I ate daintily the last time we dined together.
“Can we walk to the Arc de Triomphe from here?” Stephanie asked.
“We could,” Ernesto said, “but it would be better to do that in the daytime.”
“Fine,” Mario said. “I’ll take you after practice tomorrow. It will be still light then.”
“But I’d love to get a picture of it at night,” I said. “And the Champs de Élyseés, too. I’ve heard the lights are beautiful at night. It should be deserted this time of night.”
“That’s not likely,” Ernesto said. “I’m sure tourists flock there day and night.”
“For your travel articles, right? I believe we can accommodate you.” Mario said.
Feeling comfortably full, I walked out holding onto his right arm. We walked only a few blocks to the Champs de Élyseés. I’d heard of famous boutiques but was dismayed to see cheap shops and eating places dominated the grand avenue, now thronged with people.
At last, we reached the Arc de Triomphe. It towered above the tourists. Mario pointed out the flame kept burning to honor an unknown soldier from World War I. “Several artists carved those bas-reliefs on it.”
As we walked away, someone behind me said in a low voice, “He looks like Prince Mario from Monterra.” Mario just kept on walking.
As we headed back toward the car we’d left at the Four Seasons Hotel, someone bumped me from behind, spun me around, and snatched my purse. I screamed and reached for it, but the man was too fast. Things weren’t going well on this trip.
Stephanie clutched my hand. “Are you okay?”
I caught my breath. My pulse was racing. “I think so.”
“I’ll call the police,” Ernesto yelled as Mario ran after the thief, a tall well-built man. Damn. I didn’t want Mario put at risk because of me.
I wanted to dial 9-1-1, but that wouldn’t work here. I had most of my money and my passport in the hotel safe, and only 50 euros in my purse. “Let it go, Mario. Don’t get yourself hurt,” I called. I gripped my camera strap. Thank goodness, I’d put it across my shoulder. The camera was worth more than my purse, and I’d hate to lose all my pictures.
Ernest shoved his phone in his pocket and hurried after Mario. I hoped Mario would let Ernesto take over. I didn’t want Mario injured again.
Mario cursed and punched the man with his fist. The robber dropped the purse and threw a one-two punch at Mario, landing a blow on his right cheek and on his belly. Ernesto shoved Mario aside. “Back away, boss, I’ll take care of him.” Ernesto socked the thief in the gut.
Ernesto landed a few more punches on the thief’s belly. Mario rubbed his left shoulder. I hoped he hadn’t injured it more.
Finally, the welcome siren of the police car sounded. The robber vanished down an alley, and the cops gave chase. Ernesto picked up my purse with the clasp undone and a few bills sticking out. He brushed it off and handed it to me.
The policemen returned with the thief in handcuffs and pushed him into a police car. Then they questioned all of us. Mario left most of the talking to Ernesto and only gave his name as Mario Fiorelli. He probably hoped they wouldn’t recognize him.
However, as they walked away, one cop mentioned to the other he thought Mario played on the Monterra football team.
I looked over Mario carefully. I didn’t see any blood, but I bet he’d have plenty of bruises. “Did he hurt you?”
Mario touched his shoulder. “My shoulder hurts a bit, but I’m okay. Guess he won’t tangle with us again soon.”
On the way back to Mario’s rental car, Mario and Ernesto walked on the outside with Stephanie and me in the middle. I crossed my fingers, hoping no one else would bother us.
Mario kept a solemn expression all the way back to our hotel. He must be in pain, but he wouldn’t show it.
I faced Mario. “When we get to the hotel, would you like me to get some ice to put on your shoulder?”
Mario shook his head. “Ernesto can do it after we get back to where we’re staying.”
Ernesto nodded. “I can take care of that, but you need to be checked out by the team doctor in the morning.”
“Does your shoulder still hurt a lot?” I asked. “Are you going to be able to play?”
He rotated his shoulder and winced. “It hurts a little, but I’ll play tomorrow, whether it bothers me or not. Monterra needs all the better players.”
“Your Highness,” Ernesto said. “I wouldn’t advise it. Your teammate, Gino Campo, should be able to take your place.”
Mario frowned. “I’m not letting him replace me. He’s wanted my position ever since I earned the right. He’s good on defense. We need him there.” Mario turned to me. “Gino spent many years at Ajax,” he said, referring to the elite football academy, “but I’ve worked my way up to vice-captain’s position by scoring more goals.”
“So,” I asked, “A bit jealous, is he?”
“Maybe a little,” Mario said, “but we’re good friends.”
From the way Mario’s thighs filled his tan slacks, I guessed his powerful legs would be an asset for a football player. I couldn’t help but notice his broad chest and thick biceps strained the fabric of his shirt. And he was nice besides. Too bad his passion kept him in the world of sports—definitely not my thing. My eyes were going to cross if he kept talking about football.
Mario took my hand and patted it. “Will you come and cheer for me at the game?”
As I grasped his large hand, I felt his strength. “I sure will.”