I opened it.
Delacroix Cathedral tomorrow at 11 pm.
I sighed quietly before I locked the phone and set it down.
We’d deal with that tomorrow.
Right now, I need a shower.
Twenty minutes later, I stepped out clean and refreshed.
Brushed my teeth.
Dried off.
Put on some oil so I wasn’t ashy.
Pulled on gray sweat shorts and my Gucci slides, no shirt, no jewelry.
When I walked back into the penthouse, Yuna wasn’t in the living room.
But I could hear water running somewhere down the hall.
I grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar and stepped onto the balcony.
The Paris air hit different.
Cool.
Alive.
I turned on some oldies through the outdoor speakers.
The Isley Brothers came on. Low and soothing.
From my duffel bag, I pulled out the jar and started rolling a blunt.
This was the first real one I’d had all day.
Whiskey in one hand.
Blunt in the other.
Paris in front of me.
For a few minutes, I just stood there smoking and letting the night settle.
The balcony door slid open behind me.
I turned slightly.
Yuna stepped out.
But she looked completely different.
Her hair fell softly around her shoulders, and she wore a black silk mini dress that barely held onto her body. The straps hung loose off her shoulders like they didn’t even care about staying in place.
Classic black Louboutin stilettos.
