Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

Something outside of us was happening that kept taking away his concentration on us. Whispers about Russians and war flowed throughout the penthouse. When I came close, his men went quiet.

Remember. Mind your business. None of this has anything to do with you.

Meanwhile, the second week began like the first. Romantic. Enchanting. Jean-Pierre continued to amaze me. And I did my best to come up with surprises.

We rock climbed on Tuesday. Neither of us had done it. However, Jean-Pierre proved to catch onto it with ease, while I struggled to get half way up and then shrieked at how high we’d gone. He helped me down as I trembled like a bumbling idiot. No judgement. No jokes. Just concern and kisses that made me forget why I’d been afraid with him in the first place.

Rain returned on Wednesday. This time we didn’t stay inside. I took Jean-Pierre to the Belladonna Art Museum. Louis had helped me rent it for two hours.

Hand-in-hand, we sipped wine and savored the art.

I squeezed his hand. “Let’s play a game.”

“Okay.”

“In each room we enter, we both have to choose a piece of art that reminds us of the other.”

“I like this.” He increased his pace. And within that building the little boy returned. Only Jean-Pierre could take a silly game and make it a serious competition. Jean-Pierre raced into the rooms—at times before me. Out of breath, I would laugh at his craziness. Once, he made Louis block the entrance, so he could have a five-minute head start at the art.

And I couldn’t be mad at him as I doubled over in laughter. “You’re a horrible cheater.”

“You’re better at this than me.”

“I’m not.”

“The pieces you choose are perfect.”

“You too.”

It was true.

In the romanticism room, he’d compared me to a forest nymph. The paint strokes made her so real. Devoted emotion decorated her face.

In other sections, he pointed to nude sketches of queens, goddesses covered in gold, temptresses leashing tigers. Every woman held a high place in the image. They were always the focal point of the artist.

How can I compete with that?

On Thursday, I woke up without him in bed.

My phone rang.

I picked it up. “Hello?”

“How are you?” Shalimar asked.

“Everything has been going well.”

“Clearly, I haven’t heard from you.”

“What about Aunt Celina?” I asked. “Has she gotten suspicious?”

“No.” Shalimar’s voice lowered. “She had to leave for a few days. Something about a friend who lost a nephew.”

“Where did she fly off too?”

“Prague. They’re going to have the funeral for the nephew in a week, but he wants to hold some sort of funeral ceremony.”

“How old is the nephew?”

“Why?”

“It sounds sad.”

“Don’t be too sad. The nephew was a grown man, and very dangerous. A Russian guy that they called the Lion. Kazimir something.”

I raised my eyebrows. “And my aunt knew his uncle?”

“Yeah.” She cleared her voice. “Celina knows a lot of people.”

For some reason, the Russians kept popping up on my radar. Now Aunt Celina had a connection to one of them. She’d never said anything about it before. However, she always kept that side of her secret.

The uncle of a known violent Russian? At least she’s busy. I won’t have to keep thinking up lies or avoiding her.

“Let me know when Aunt Celina is due to come back,” I said.

“I will.”

“When she does, I’ll meet with her for lunch or something.”

“Uh.” Shalimar paused. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Of course.”

“Would Jean-Pierre appreciate you meeting with your aunt?”

“I have free reign and there’s no limits to where I can go. And he definitely won’t mind me talking to my aunt.”

Shalimar remained silent.

“What?” I asked.

“Everything is going. . .decent. I think we shouldn’t tempt fate for now. Let’s just enjoy Celina being gone and deal with it later.”

I shrugged. “That’s fine.”

“So…catch me up.”

There wasn’t much I wanted to say to Shalimar. I had her involved to help me protect my interests. I kept out any intimate details and did a summary of the dates, wondering if she had some extra tips to keep this experience going well for Jean-Pierre.

“So, what else should I do?” I asked.

“I…wouldn’t have thought of half of those things.” She laughed. “Stick to what you’re doing.”

“Good.”

“Any problems from his men? Any feelings of being unsafe?”

“Rafael. . .” I looked around and made sure no one was near. “Rafael puts me on edge, but I should be fine.”

“Rafael puts everyone on edge. Stay away from him as much as possible.”

You don’t have to tell me twice.

I finished with Shalimar and then practiced on Eros the rest of the day. The penthouse had gone empty. Not even Louis had stayed. Two unknown guards followed me around as staff served lunch and then afternoon tea.

I hope everyone is okay.

I ate dinner alone that night.

When I went to bed, Jean-Pierre still had not returned.

I woke to breakfast in bed, but no Jean-Pierre or sound of the other men.