“Look, I know I offended you at Violet de Frémont’s party. If there was any way on earth that I could go back to that moment and unmake that mistake, then I would. It was just a mistake, Monsieur Zachari. A plain, simple mistake for which I am most terribly sorry.”

“And what makes you think I care about that, madame?”

Genevieve’s smile had taken on a beseeching quality. My goodness, she realized. I’m practically begging! And the realization brought her to her senses. He was just a shoemaker, after all. He might be immune to her charms, her apologies, her willingness to humble herself, but she still had one thing that he couldn’t possibly be immune to. The dollar. King of all Currencies.

She reached for her bag and brought forth the wad. Letting the money talk for her.

But now he got to his feet and turned to leave. It was as though he hadn’t even seen the cash in her hand.

“Good day to you, madame. It’s been an unusual breakfast. Entertaining, but ultimately a little disappointing. For both of us, I suspect.”

The girls ate lunch at The Dôme, seated at the table that the management kept permanently reserved for Lulu. Today she was wearing a silly black hat decorated with peacock feathers. Her eye makeup was more Egyptian and elaborate than ever.

“I’ve found out some more stories about Zachari,” she said, pushing her plate away.

“What kind of stories?”

“That he came to Paris because he was running from the Mafia. That his life was forfeit as part of a blood feud between his family and another, and he got on the boat with another boy’s blood still smeared across his face. That his mother sent him over here in a basket when he was only a baby because she was mad and couldn’t take care of him. That he was brought up by Calabrian wolves.”

“So what’s the truth?”

Lulu shrugged. “How should I know? He must enjoy the rumors, otherwise there wouldn’t be so many of them. I think you will have to be the one to find out, chérie.”

“I can’t bear him,” said Genevieve. “He’s the rudest, most arrogant—”

Lulu leaned back and smiled. “Admit it, Vivi. You find him irresistible.”

“I do not.”

“Of course you do. All that mystery, those eyes…and he’s refused you. An unavailable man is all the more attractive for it.”

“It’s his shoes I want, not him. I must have the shoes. And once I’ve got them, I’m going to tell that swaggering little cobbler exactly what I think of him!”