Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

“And don’t forget the sound of the funeral bell.”

“Apparently, witches make a lot of noise.”

Jean-Pierre turned to me. “I’m enjoying my time with you.”

“Me too.” I smiled. “And it’s going by so quickly. It’s already been a week.”

“Hmmm.” He returned to the screen. “I didn’t realize that.”

“Yeah.” I wanted to say more, but he hadn’t paid for a babbling woman to discuss how much she wished for more time or how she wanted more from him.

Either way, he remained pretty quiet after that.

I lounged in his arms and finished the film, enjoying every moment.

The warmth of his muscular arm.

The film in front of us.

The romance all around us.

The way my heart boomed every time his thumb slipped up my wrist and slid down again.

When we arrived home that night, we didn’t make love. I was nervous that I’d pissed him off somehow. That night was different than all the rest.

For some reason, he placed candles around the room and lit them. In the background, Debussy’s Clare De Lune filled the air with a subtle piano melody.

We lay together.

My heart melted from him. Everything about him. His caresses. The heat of him. The sound of his breathing against my flesh. The satin of his skin. The silk of his hair. The hardness of his cock and muscular chest. The softness of his silence.

This whole experience was becoming so easy, yet heartbreakingly hard at the same time.

Chapter 24

No Threesomes Allowed

Eden

On the Monday of the second week, I didn’t see Jean-Pierre all day.

He’d spoiled me so much that the moments without him began to drag and bore me to death. I didn’t pick up Eros or browse the many books in the penthouse’s library. There were tons of messages on my phone from Shalimar, Leo, Dad, and even Aunt Celina. I didn’t listen to them or call anyone.

When is he coming back?

Completely restless, I wandered the penthouse’s hallways. All the men had disappeared, except for Louis who remained in the living room watching another soccer game.

This was a feeling I wasn’t used to experiencing. While I loved the pleasure of a man, I couldn’t name a guy that I’d missed after he’d gone. It made me question all the prior relationships I’d had before Jean-Pierre.

No. This isn’t a relationship. Chill out.

Clearing my head, I traveled through different parts of the penthouse. I had no destination in mind, nor was I even paying attention to where I was going.

Why am I so mopey? I should just play something or go for a walk outside.

I stretched out my hands and slid my fingertips along the walls as I walked.

A scream shattered the silence of the penthouse.

I stopped walking and listened for more, knowing I shouldn’t. If anything, I should’ve turned around and went off into another direction.

“No! I won’t!” the man screamed again.

Turn around. Turn around.

For some reason, I tiptoed forward. Maybe it was stupid curiosity. Perhaps, I wondered if Jean-Pierre was behind the man’s pain.

If he’s doing it, how do I feel about that? I can’t feel anything about it. He’s not mine.

The man screamed again, but this time in a different language.

Is that Russian? That doesn’t make sense.

When I first arrived at Belladonna, there’d been a couple of rough looking criminals roaming the streets here and there. There’d been a few Russians lurking around. Not a lot. It just seemed like I kept bumping into one or two Russian men in the areas where I would shop.

As my living in Belladonna continued, the French Mafia’s presence rose. I’d brought that fact up to Aunt Celina once.

She’d waved the comment away and grabbed one of my bottles of wine from the counter. “The French will leave soon.”

I handed her a wine opener. “How do you know?”

“They won’t have the patience to play this city’s games.” She took the wine opener, set it next to the bottle, and then yelled in the other direction, “Leo! Darling, we need you.”

Leo groaned from his room. “Coming, Aunt Celina.”

“I can open it.” I reached for the bottle.

“No.” She smiled. “Men are amazing, but they always need something to do. Never let a man lay idle for too long. Even if you’re not sleeping with him.”

I laughed.

Leo dragged himself in.

Aunt Celina gestured to the bottle.

Always unable to say no to her, he opened it with a silly grin.

“What are y’all talking about?” Leo asked.

I grinned. “The French Mafia.”

Aunt Celina snorted. “The French Mafia is not that special.”

“Doesn’t it seem like there are a whole bunch of French guys here for some reason?” Leo asked.

I nodded and looked at Aunt Celina. “Have you dealt with any French Mafia at the Candy Shop?”

She frowned. “Why?”

“I’m just intrigued.”

“Don’t be intrigued by bad men.” She wagged her finger. “In the end, a bad boy is a very bad boy. There’s nothing romantic about him. Go for the good guys.”