Page 64 of Unlock My Heart

“Oh,” I say, that uneasy feeling coiling around my heart and squeezing.

“You miss your brother.” Fabien wraps his arms around me, placing his chin on the top of my head.

“Do you think if someone commits suicide, they go to hell?” I whisper.

“I think if someone commits suicide, they’re already in hell. Up here.” Fabien’s finger taps my temple.

“Hum,” I say thoughtfully.

“And if this person felt that was the only way out, I don’t believe a just God would judge them.”

“Is there a just God?” I wonder.

“No clue. That’s why I donate to the Church and let my priest figure out the theology.”

“I’m not sure you can buy your way into heaven,” I inform him.

“Maybe not, but I still made a donation in your brother’s honor.”

I shift in his arms, burrowing my face against his muscular chest. “Thank you.”

“Say the word, piccola volpe, and I’ll take care of everyone involved.”

His offer should terrify me.

Cold. Ruthless. Menacing.

I’m in love with a bad guy, but I know in my heart, Fabien would never be a bad guy to me.

“Don’t make me cry; I’ll have red, puffy eyes when I meet your family.” I sniff.

He sits in a wrought iron chair, pulling me into his lap, and we silently watch as the procession disappears down the street. Whatever god these mourners believe it, that’s the one I say a prayer to for Oliver’s soul.

“Come on. It’s almost time to go,” Fabien says, leading me back inside.

This time, panic is what’s coiling around my heart. “But I still need to do my hair and makeup, and I don’t know what to wear!” I burst through the bedroom to find several dresses with tags laid out on the bed; shoe boxes stacked on the floor.

“Did I do good?”

Raising on my tiptoes, I give Fabien a thank-you peck before eyeing my choices. “You did good.” I go with the most conservative dress before opening a shoebox with a killer pair of black heels with red soles. I squeal, jumping up and down. “So good, that I’m going to be a bad girl wearing these heels later tonight.” Crawling to Fabien should be degrading, but turns out I’m not one for should.

“Damn, I did too good, because now I’ve gotta take a cold shower.” With a swat of my ass, he stalks to the bathroom.

We get ready and are out the door. “Explain Sunday dinner again to me,” I tell him, yanking open the visor and checking my lipstick.

“Sunday dinner is dinner on Sunday.”

“Gee, that’s helpful,” I say dryly.

“It’s a whole lot of food and gossip with my family and my cousin, Nic, because he’s a freeloader,” Fabien jokes.

“Will Nic’s parents be there? His mom is your mom’s sister, right?”

Fabien nods. “Right, but his parents are dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. See, this is why I’m asking. So I don’t embarrass myself.”

“Sienna, you’re not going to embarrass yourself.”