“Well, naturally, as book lovers, we’d know exactly which stories were the most read by the binding, coloring of the pages, as well as other telltale signs. We might gravitate to them sheerly because we know them to be the classics, and we might miss out on some wild adventures and vice versa.”
“True. I mean, I’d probably avoid Dante’sInferno.” I twisted my hair around my finger.
“You seem a little fixated on that particular work of art. Want to talk about it?” he asked, catching me off guard.
“That’d be a Marcel question,” I said and then laughed at his facial expressions as he processed what I said.
“Well, you could still answer it, you know, and then the next time you chat with Marcel, you can astound him with your astute awareness. We can easily break down the nine circles,” he joked.
“I think I could equate that idea to being forced to listen to a dripping faucet in a pitch-black room for all of eternity. Or maybe being locked in a room where the walls move an inch closer every hour.”
Heat spread across my cheeks as his booming laughter filled the room. “You’ve quite the imagination.”
“Hmm, well, how about I leave you with this? I’d say before I met Aleksandr, I was in limbo, living a somewhat peaceful existence. I moved into lust and happened to have set up camp where I am wandering dangerously into the third circle, gluttony.”
“Well, then I suggest you see it through because, if I’m not mistaken, Dante learns to confront his sins, and through compassion and bonding with Virgil, he was able to escape Hell.”
“Umm, yes, he gets to climb toward Heaven, where condemnation is left behind. Unfortunately, I fear I’ll forever be in the inferno.”
“One can only be in an inferno if they choose to be.”
“Some deserve the inferno,” I whispered.
“I suppose some do, child, but I’d say you’re probably not one of them.” His voice was quiet. After a few minutes, he said, “Can I give you a piece of advice?”
“Sure.” I turned to him, meeting his intense gaze.
“The ability to make choices is the most powerful tool we have in our arsenal. Everything in life boils down to choices. We live in a world of infinite possibilities. And every choice you make can either open or close an equal number of infinitedoors.” As insightful as they were, his words took root in my mind, and I nodded. “At any point, you can change the direction of your life by simply making another choice. It trulyisin your hands, your heart, and in your mind.”
“You’re a very wise man, and your wife a very blessed woman,” I said, rising.
“One last piece of advice for the day. A wise man makes his own decisions. While an ignorant man follows public opinion.”
“A Chinese Proverb. I see you, Christopher King. On that note, I think I’llcarpethe hell out of thisdiemwhile I can.” I smiled as I walked toward the door, his rich laughter following me.
“I’m sure you will, young lady. I’m sure you will.”
My thoughts tangled into knots, pulling me deep into my head. Before I knew it, I was standing at the kitchen’s entrance—the one place that offered clarity when everything else felt like chaos. Chef Bonfils shot daggers my way while wildly waving the knife in his hand.
“Please tell me this will not be an everyday thing.”
“Well, I figured since it will be Nik and me for dinner tonight, it probably isn’t necessary for you to cook us anything. I can manage if you’d like,” I said sweetly.
“Excusez-moi? I shall banish you from my kitchen, manage dinner? I cannot believe my ears.” An intense look of offense crossed his features at the suggestion as he aggressively chopped some parsley.
I shimmied closer and peeked over at the pot on the stove. “Okay, then, can I make dessert for Nik? I wouldn’t want him to think you’re playing favorites. Alek told him all about his dessert last night.” I tried not to laugh at the incredulous look that crossed his face.
Sighing and waving his hand toward the pantry, he mumbled, “I can’t wait for you to leave. Interrupting my day.”
“Thank you so much. What do you think about a chocolate mousse?” I asked from the pantry, checking to see what type of chocolate they had.
“It will work. Master Nik is especially fond of chocolate,” he said. I grabbed the extra apron from the hook and put it on.
“I was wondering—”
“If you are going to ask a million questions, then I will absolutely throw you out,” he practically yelled, causing his assistant to jump.
Ignoring his outburst, I asked, “Espresso or cognac?” Irritation flashed across his face as he sized me up once more. “I think I’ll go with the cognac,” I said with a shrug.
