I walk in through the lobby and head to the elevator, to the tenth floor where Ion rented Bianca a suite. Upon stepping out of the elevator I see two armed guards outside of her door. No doubt a courtesy of her parents, given how she’s in a new city and all.
Last week I noticed how when she scurried off no one followed her, so I questioned Mariana on it. She informed me that Bianca has had self-defense classes since she was about ten, a request she made when she was a child given the things they’d endured. And on top of that, she carries a gun with her wherever she goes. If you ask me, the Gucci purse she totes around is big enough for a gun with a silencer and a full round of ammunition, plus all the typical things women carry.
“Mr. Lazar,” One of the men states my name, giving me a nod before he steps to the side, allowing me to get to the door. The other man on his left instantly moves as well. Neither of them putting up a fight. Well, this should make things a bit easier.
I take in a deep breath before rapping my knuckles on her door, knowing very well how her reaction might not be pleasant. I honestly doubt Ion told her anything about me being the one who would take her to Anton’s funeral.
She opens the door with an unreadable expression before the realization hits her. Bianca’s eyes widen quickly, “What’re you doing here?”
She asks me a question and yet I’m mesmerized by her overall look. From the slight Marilyn Monroe style curl, to her winged eyeliner. Then add in the way her shoulders are exposed, the dress wrapping around her like a silk bow. It fans out like something you’d see women wear in the 50s or 60s. She looks regal.
“You look . . . ravishing,” I can’t help but compliment her. Though, based on the way she rolls her eyes, she isn’t pleased.
“I asked why you’re here, and still you haven’t given me an answer.”
“I’m taking you to the funeral—,”
Immediately, she shakes her head. “No, you aren’t. This isn’t a fucking date, Mircea. This is my uncle’s funeral. He might not have been my blood, but my uncle Anton . . . he was one of the first people who stood up for me when my parents declared their intention on who would take the throne. Other’s didn’t want me to because I’m a bastard . . . but he helped change their minds.”
“You’re right, this isn’t a date, Bianca. I’m simply giving you a ride to Anton’s funeral. Nothing more, nothing less. Your father asked me to—”
She scoffs, “Of course he did. I suppose he cancelled my car as well, hmm?”
I nod, remembering this detail. “Yes, he did.”
“The man loves to play dirty. I guess I don’t have a choice here and we should go.” She grumbles, holding onto the leather strap of her small purse. She walks through the door and allows it to shut, looking to the two men by her door. “I take it you two will follow me in another car?”
“Yes Ma’am.” One nods, and Bianca starts to walk down the hallway while I stay a couple feet behind her, giving her some space for a moment.
We make it down to the Porsche I’m renting in town while I’m here. I open the passenger door for her and she slides in, while I shut it and then go around the car to get into my seat. I grab a single flower from the bouquet on the floor next to Bianca’s legs and hand it to her. “This isn’t a date, but I’m a man of symbolism. Do you know what daffodils represent?”
“No, I don’t.” She answers smugly, emotionless.
“New beginnings, so I give you this daffodil in the hopes we will have a new beginning. As a child I was cruel to you, and I’m sorry for that. I was horrific and I can understand why you’re not fond of me.”
She’s quiet for a few moments. “Why did you bring them for Anton’s grave?”
“Because, this is a new beginning for him too.”
Chapter Seven
Bianca
I don’t like him one bit. It’s all I can think about while my driver is on the way to my parents’ hotel here in Miami. We’ve just had the most incredibly hard day, grieving the loss of a man who meant so much to so many people . . . and here I am, thinking about the incorrigible Mircea Lazar.
Ysenia came to our uncle Anton’s funeral, while our younger brothers stayed back in New York with the family staff. God forbid there was an attack on us at his funeral, our brothers would hold the throne. In this life we always have to prepare for the worst case scenario, no matter what’s going on.
My parents went out for the evening, so I promised Ysenia we’d find a nice restaurant that overlooked the water and have some sisterly bonding time. Often times, we don’t do it. Always finding one excuse or another for being too busy. Her with her schooling, and me with my . . . whatever I’m doing at the time. The point is, we let things get in the way of keeping our relationship up.
My driver pulls to the front of their hotel and Ysenia’s guards walk her out to the SUV. One of them opens her door and she hops inside. They close it shut and pat on the door, signaling the driver to go ahead. I have one of my men in the passenger seat as our bodyguard for the day, so we’ll be completely safe no matter what goes on.
“Do you have any clue what they’re doing?” Ysenia questions, the nosiest of all my siblings.
“I’d put my money on it that
