Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

The gown fell to the floor. Out of all the clothes he’d bought me, this was the most sexy and elegant. The soft lace smoothed against my fingertips.

I studied myself in the mirror, knowing that I’d walked away from any decision I’d made earlier. I’d spent three days away from Jean-Pierre, thinking about what to do. I’d come up with nothing, but more questions and no answers.

My world is not what I thought it was, but I’m in Paris and I’m alive, and someone wants me so bad. . .they’ll go to war. That’s something.

What would it be like to surrender to Jean-Pierre? To give in to his obsession? Hadn’t I already been falling for him? Hadn’t I wanted this to be so real I could wrap it around my heart and never be alone or cold in this world again?

I’d gotten what I’d yearned for. Granted, it had come to be times ten and with a whole lot of violence and pettiness.

Daddy said to watch out for Aunt Celina, and I didn’t believe him. Who would believe a man that’s building a fake church?

My aunt was crazy. My dad was crazy.

Why am I sitting in Paris trying not to be crazy?

The more I stood in the mirror the dumber I felt.

So, it was fine for him to think I was a whore and pay me to fuck him, but a little three year war and I run away in shock?

I laughed at myself. It was one of delirium. At this point, I didn’t know if I was making any sense to myself. I’d surely talked to myself long enough for these past three days.

It was time to leave the suite.

And I’d gone too long without seeing Jean-Pierre.

Fuck it. I’m crazy. I’m getting dressed and going downstairs. And he is called The Butcher, and is in fact, someone who has killed. . .wait. . .why am I going up again?

I blinked and let out a long breath.

I’m going. That’s it. Don’t think about anything else.

I spent the rest of the time getting dressed. I hadn’t showered in three days. I was sure my body appreciated it. My nerves flared on edge while I got ready. My hands shook as I curled my hair and did my makeup.

When I finished, I had to force myself to leave the room.

Somehow, I was more nervous now than ever before.

These moments together would be real.

There was no pretending.

We would be together and trying to build toward something.

Where did he see this going?

We had to talk. I still had no idea what I wanted to do and where I would live. My old apartment was out of the question. And the money from Jean-Pierre had given me the opportunity to move where I wanted to. My visit to Paris had shown that I really hadn’t lived.

It was time to get out and travel. See the world. Experience Europe and other places.

But where will I go? And what will that mean for Jean-Pierre and me?

When he’d brought up the extension, he’d said that we could live anywhere as I searched.

I could do that.

I took my time getting to the room that he’d put on the invitation. The walk down the hallway and elevator ride had put me on edge. I tapped my foot several times, telling myself that everything would be okay and that I was doing the right thing.

When I left the elevator, I stepped into the hall.

Jean-Pierre stood there waiting, hands in his pockets, leaning one shoulder against the wall. His gaze found me. Heat spread along my flesh like wildfire.

“Thank you, Eden.” Jean-Pierre’s deep voice spread across my body just like the heat. Rough and sexy. This was why I needed those three days away from him to think. Around him, there would be no doubt that I yearned for him. “Tu m’as tellement manqué.”

“I missed you too, Jean-Pierre.”

He moved, pushing off the wall and then he was in front of me. Only an inch lay between us. He licked his lips. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

My whole body came alive, knowing that he was going to touch me.

An electric thrill raced through me.

He was too close. My mind couldn’t process all the emotions spinning like a tornado in my head.

“Eden. Eden,” he said my name in a breathy whisper. He drank me in and ran his gaze all over my body. “Do you have any questions, or do you not want to talk about it? We can just eat.”

“I have one question.”

“Yes?”

“Why me? It couldn’t have only been the playing. And it wasn’t the onesie.”

“Clearly, you haven’t seen what you looked like in a onesie. It’s very sexy.”

“I’m serious, Jean-Pierre.” I looked into his eyes, trying to understand what would make a man with all of his power go for someone like me.

“Eden, there should be no question to why I’m obsessed over you. It’s because you’re Eden, and no one else can be you.” He pulled me into his arms. “You’re a remarkable woman. Beautiful. Talented.”