Page 114 of Contract of a Billionaire
I shrugged, a mischievous smile on my face. “Well, we won’t tell her our plans. Dancing in the middle of Dublin sounds charming.”
“We can get people to throw some money in a hat for us. We’ll be like traveling gypsies.”
Alessio grumbled. “No traveling gypsies in this family,” he warned.
“Too late,” we both said at the same time and burst into giggles.
“Okay, here is Maman’s favorite song,” Branka announced, connecting her phone to the television projecting her video clip.
The end of Katy Perry’s song showed Maman, Branka, and me dancing. Kol was still a baby, in my arms.
“Look at Kol,” Branka mused. “That look right there. He still has it. That ‘oh, shit, where the hell did I end up’ look. Poor kid realized early on he ended up with crazy women in his family.”
Kol’s eyes were wide watching Maman dancing who kept trying to drag dad into the dance circle. He was recording so it’d jerk the camera every time.
“Your mom seems to love Paris,” Aurora remarked.
My eyes were glued to the screen. Every so often I’d get a glimpse of dad. We were all happy. Yes, my heart was broken. And yes, it seems maybe Branka’s was too. But we all had each other and my parents.
“Yeah, she said Paris will always have a special place in her heart,” I answered, my eyes still glued to the screen. God, that love on my mother’s face. The very same one I could see on dad’s face when the camera would accidentally flick to him. He called himself an expert cameraman. “She convinced Dad she’d follow wherever he went.”
The song switched over to “Die For Me,” and the very moment it started playing Branka and I shared a glance.
“I know that look,” Alessio noted. “Trouble.”
“Us? Never!” Branka and I answered.
Maman’s confused look on the screen was unmistakable. Her lips moved but you couldn’t hear her voice because Branka turned the music up to the max. Then both of us screamed the words while Maman chased us.
“Don’t say bad words,” she warned. Okay, she screamed while glancing around frantically. “The French already don’t like Americans.”
Branka and I sang our hearts out that day. Now I wondered if she was singing it for Sasha. Or was it only recently that she realized he was lying to her.
“We’re not Americans.” We both rapped our comment like it was part of the song.
“Mon Dieu!” Maman exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air along with a few French curses. “Cover Kol’s ears so he doesn’t hear the bad words. You two are worse examples now than when you were teenagers.”
Father caught both of our feigned shattered expressions. But Branka and I couldn’t keep it up for long. We burst into a fit of giggles, then pulled Maman into our circle and danced.
“Autumn Michelle Corbin!” she exclaimed. “Same goes for you Branka.”
The rain drops started. I could still smell the spring air in Paris. It was like fresh autumn air with a floral fragrance. Of course, Maman said I got it all wrong.
We laughed so much. Even Kol as I covered his head with the little hoodie, while he tried to stick his tongue out and catch rain drops. All four of us tilted our faces up to the rain and darted our tongues out to catch the rain.
Maman had that picture hung up in the living room.
“That was a good day.” Branka’s hand came around me. I nodded, watching my parents on the screen. Somewhere along the way, either Branka or I took over the camera. Maman and dad danced together. And that love, that fucking devotion, it was on their face. Like they’d tear the whole world down for each other.
And I knew they would. Father had done it once already. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“Is that what a normal life looks like?” Aurora murmured.
“Probably,” Byron grumbled. “Not that we would know.”
My curious gaze flicked over the table. “I think the closest thing to a normal childhood was experienced by Bianca,” Grace remarked.
My eyes shot to Nico’s wife.
