Page 88 of Depraved Royals
Kal opens one eye.
“Nah,milaya. I’m a fucking pauper and always will be. But you? You’re a queen. I love you, Dani.”
I smile. “I love you too.”
Epilogue
Dani
Dani’s birthday…
“Are yousureVera doesn’t mind?” I ask yet again.
Kal sighs. He knows I fret, and he’s trying to be patient.
“I told you, she’s fine. You saw how she was practically kicking us out the door. We deserve this break, and Tiana loves her Auntie V.”
I smile. He’s right, of course. Our baby girl is five months old and is the most independent little creature ever. Far from clinging to me, she’s out for adventure, already rolling and trying to head off into the world.
“I know, I just worry,” I say, taking Kal’s hand. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate this, though. Florence has always been a dream destination for me. But I wish you’d tell me why we’re here.”
“An exhibition, like I said. It’s your birthday, and you know how I like to keep you guessing.”
I’m distracted by the grandeur of the Palazzo Vecchio, standing above us in all its fortified glory. I never thought I’d see it in person.
The streets are calm and narrow, so unlike home. It’s late, and there aren’t many people around, but the restaurants and cafés still have a few lingering patrons enjoying their digestifs after a good meal.
“It’s so beautiful here,” I say. “The whole place is steeped in art and history. If I could, I’d spend years here just getting to know all the incredible people who came to define this city in Renaissance times.”
“Hmmm,” Kal says. “You know they’re all dead, right?”
“No, they’re not. They live forever in their deeds, just as we all do. Look here,” I point as we round a corner onto the Piazza della Signoria, “do you know what this building is?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Kal lets go of my hand and slips down a dark alley to a rear door. I scurry behind him.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. “We’re not meant to be here! This is the fucking Uffizi gallery!”
“Did they rename it? I’m sure the name wasn’t always so sweary. Are all the weird fornicating statues in here now?”
I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it. “Seriously, what are you up to?”
“I said we were going to see a special exhibit, didn’t I? Now shush.”
Kal turns the door handle, and everything inside is darkness. He grabs my arm, pulls me inside, and closes the door behind him.
“Kal, I love you, but I swear to God if you’ve broken in here—”
All the lights come on at once. I can’t see a thing for a moment, and I blink stupidly in shock.
“Surprise!”
The courtyard is full of people. Friends of ours from New York. Art agents, promoters, dealers, and the many friends I made while studying and teaching in Paris.
And best of all, my family.
“Papa! Mama!” I cry, flinging my arms around them. “Where’s Mel?”
“Over there,” Mama says with a nod, “trying to get that tall hunk of Italian stallion’s phone number.”