Chapter 20
SOFIA
The twin turbine engines of the chartered Boeing aircraft settled into a rhythmic thrum as we cleared the clouds over the Atlantic.
I sat nestled in a butter-soft leather chair, staring in awe at the cabin at the rear of the plane.
Rows of aluminum cases secured the band’s guitars, pedal boards, and mixing gear.
It amazed me how many crew members and pieces of equipment it took to stage Six Sinners, as 40 tons of steel and sound equipment took flight with us.
Aside from the general chaos, there was a delay with the custom lighting rigs and the temporary misplacement of the high-tech camera kit at the airport terminal.
This led the Production Head, Grant, to unleash a spectacular, vein-popping tirade at the cargo supervisor.
However, it was all soon sorted, and we were on our way, all twenty-one of us: from the band to the sound and film crew, and two managers.
Plus eight bespoke guitars, two saxophones, an extensive drum kit, a rare violin, and a whole lot of hope that the European airspace would treat the freight with respect.
Jude sat beside me, his long legs stretched into the walkway, his fingers tapping the armrest while he studied a printed itinerary sheet.
His eyes slid to me.
‘You tracking fine, babe?’ he rasped. ‘Not too overwhelmed by the circus?’
‘I’m OK, Jude,’ I replied. ‘But y’all are più pazzo di un gregge di capre.
Which means you’re all crazier than a herd of goats.
In Calabria, we use the words when someone is running around with chaotic energy.
If you have ever seen a pack of billies gone wild, you know exactly why the phrase fits all of you. ’
He chuckled, his lush lips softening into a brief hint of a smile.
‘We land in Paris around dusk. The crowds and traffic at the terminal will be a total circus, but the hotel is worth the headache. Sleep if you need to, watch a movie, do you.’
I ended up bingeing a rom-com, eating the in-flight meal, and falling into a doze on his shoulder.
I woke to find myself tucked to his side, his arms encircling me.
He was also asleep.
I nestled closer, my cheek pressed into the cotton of his tee, my ear to the steady, rhythmic thud of his heartbeat as my mind quieted.
One thing I adored about Jude was his growing affection for me; he was a hugger, a hand-holder, and I found I appreciated his love language a hella lot.
Now lying on him, untethered from the world thirty thousand feet below, my feelings for him crystallized.
I loved him.
That was the plain and simple truth.
He was a maze of defensive walls and hyper-vigilant caution.
I could tell he had yet to resolve what we were to each other or where our agreement ended and our relationship began.
Still, in the quiet of the cabin, wrapped in his heat, the doubt didn’t sting as much.
I trusted him with my life, and my stubborn heart decided to trust him with the rest, too.
It was foolish of me; I was well aware of that.
True to his promise, he hadn’t so far addressed our lovemaking mistake.
Still, I yearned for him, and it was heaven to be in his arms, and I snuggled closer and slipped back into sleep, savoring the moment.
I woke to Jude shaking my shoulder.
‘Almost there, babe.’
I freshened up in the tiny bathroom, splashing cold water on my face.
I tamed my hair before returning to my seat just as the captain announced our final approach.
The descent into the city happened right as the sun dipped beneath the western horizon.
Paris rushed up to meet us in a sprawling grid of limestone buildings and winding avenues, all washed in a deep, violet dusk.
The sky split into layers of burnt orange and soft lavender, reflecting off the ribbon of the Seine below.
As the plane came in to the land, the streetlights flickered to life across the metropolis.
The distant glowing silhouette of the Eiffel Tower pierced the twilight, beautiful enough to make my breath hitch.
The transition from the tarmac to the terminal was quick.
Thanks to the VIP customs handling arranged by the tour management, we bypassed the long tourist queues.
A border official in a crisp navy uniform checked our passports, stamped them, and waved us through the priority lane in under five minutes.
Through it all, Jude’s hand rested flat on the small of my back, guiding me through the shifting currents of the crowded concourse.
He stood tall, his broad, muscled physique cutting a path through the sea of travelers without him even trying.
He wore just a simple black crewneck sweatshirt and jeans, but the casual clothes only emphasized his rugged, brawny beauty.
He was breathtakingly handsome, even more so every time his eyes locked on me.
With his fingers tracing the curve of my spine, pushing me ahead of him to shield me from the crowds, I felt precious.
I knew it was no sign that his intention to shift our relationship into romance was changing whatsoever.
Heck, the ring I bought him still sat somewhere in his room back in Nashville, but his care gave me a small sliver of hope.
Under the dusk of a stunning Parisian sky, his touch made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.
My breath hitched as my silly, stupid heart held on to the hope that over time his actions would override his wariness.
Soon our Escalade driver steered us away from the tarmac and onto the ancient cobblestone avenues.
The entire city seemed to ignite in a spectacular display of gold and amber illumination.
I took it all in with wonder as we glided past towering stone monuments.
My gaze fell on intricate iron balconies, above sidewalks crowded with stylish locals sipping espresso under canvas awnings.
‘I’ve never been to Paris. It’s like stepping into a magical movie,’ I whispered to Jude.
He leaned in close to me to peer at what I was looking at.
‘The Champs-élysées layout was one designed back in the seventeenth century by the king’s landscape architect. The idea was to create a grand horizon line. Those paving stones give the avenue a distinct, rich gray-purple hue when the twilight hits it.’
I arched a brow, surprised by his knowledge.
‘It’s my third visit to the city,’ he added with a shrug, ‘and I did the obligatory tour the first time. Never gets old though, babe.’
The vehicle pulled to a halt along a tree-lined boulevard, right in front of the Chateau des Fleurs, our hotel for our stay in Paris.
The exterior structure showcased classic architecture, with carved limestone reliefs and wrought-iron window frames that spoke of centuries of prestige.
‘Dio,’ I whispered, stepping onto the pavement as Jude secured our luggage. ‘It’s a palace.’
‘It was once the old Bal Mabille,’ Angel said, appearing next to me with his guitar case slung over his shoulder.
‘Back in the nineteenth century, the Parisian elite gathered here for botanical garden parties, dancing under chandeliers hung straight from the oak trees. The merry-go-rounds are gone, but the vibe is still the same.’
When we crossed the threshold into the lobby, the interior aesthetic shifted into a breathtaking fusion of plant-based elegance and splendid ballroom design.
Plant-painted stained-glass windows caught the overhead light, casting intricate patterns of emerald and gold across the polished marble floors.
The joie de vivre of those ancient, enchanting evenings remained alive in every nook, blending Art Deco heritage with vibrant, modern energy.
Jude led the way up the grand staircase to our two-bedroom accommodation, unlocking the oak door with a brass key card.
It was a Corner Junior Suite, elevated on the third floor, offering an unobstructed view of the designer-strung Champs-élysées below and dripping with Belle époque-inspired eye candy.
Jude set my suitcase on a velvet bench near the entrance.
‘Your room is through the double doors on the left. Mine is on the other side of the living area. You’ll have total privacy.’
When I opened my mouth to say thank you, he lifted a finger to my lips.
‘Woman, just enjoy it,’ he growled and stalked away with a wry smile.
I huffed, then walked into my assigned room.
As my feet sank into a thick, hand-woven rug, I gasped as my eyes landed on a stunning, vintage roll-top gold and black bathtub.
It sat right in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
‘Jude, come look at this,’ I called out, my voice echoing off the high ceilings.
He strolled into my space, stopping just behind me as I pushed the sheer curtains aside.
Below us, the famous avenue stretched out like a ribbon of diamonds.
‘Ooh là là,’ I murmured, mimicking the French phrase the concierge used downstairs earlier, a genuine laugh bubbling up from my throat.
Jude let out a rough, amused huff from deep in his chest.
Leaning on the window casing, he gazed down at the bustling night street, then back at my face.
‘Yeah. It’s out of this world, babe. Go ahead and draw a hot bath in that tub. You’ve earned the rest after that grueling flight.’
The following day, the Accor Arena loomed like an immense blue metallic web, a steel, glass-and-grass pyramid on the edge of the Seine.
Its sloping exterior walls in a bold design, covered in thick patches of manicured lawn, made a strong imprint upon the panorama of the city.
Inside, the cavernous bowl could hold over twenty thousand screaming fans.
The scale of the stadium was enormous, hitting me the second the industrial lift doors slid open.
Earlier, unable to rest and too restless to stay inside the suite, I asked Jude if I could tag along to the band’s bump-in.
‘I want to see how your team operates and perhaps lend a hand,’ I told him. ‘Besides, I’ve got zero plans.’
He eyed me over the rim of his coffee cup, his lips twitching.
‘As long as you don’t get in the way or try to handle the heavy lifting. The band always pitches in, and it’s a grind.’
‘Hard work doesn’t scare me, my friend,’ I shot back.
Our eyes locked, and the ratcheting feeling between us simmered.
I sensed his walls coming down, day by day.
If anything, the magnetic pull between us was melting his defenses.