Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

Why? Did it have something to do with Aunt Celina or Shalimar?

I sank deeper into the water, further into heaven. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. Anticipation moved in my chest. I missed Jean-Pierre. I was anxious to see him, as well as get an update to what was going on.

Jean-Pierre’s sexy voice filled the air. “Tu m’as manqué.”

Smiling, I opened my eyes. “I missed you too.”

Jean-Pierre stepped into my focus and stopped next to the tub. His usual designer suit jacket was off. Same as the expensive leather loafers.

Damn. Even his feet are irresistible.

He’d entered barefoot wearing only a crisp, white button-down shirt and tailored dark blue pants. His tie hung loosely around his neck, as if he’d been yanking it free with each step to the bathroom.

I didn’t know when, I would get used to his gorgeousness. My heartbeat faster when he filled the space. It boomed and drummed. He wore a wild sexuality. It pulsed around him, making him appear even bigger than he already was. It shook me to see him wield such allure, such wild sexuality.

This evening, his thick accent came out husky, making me aware of how exhausted he must’ve been. “I worried that you wouldn’t be here, when I returned.”

“I told you I would try. . .for now.”

“For now.” His gaze shimmered with lusty heat. I loved the way he studied me, as if he was thinking about diving deep into my soul. “I don’t remember the for now part, but I understand.”

He reached out and swept a few curls from my forehead, tucking it behind my ear. As soon as his fingers skimmed my skin, I felt a rush of electric current.

My pulse raced.

His delicious mouth curved into a smile. “How was your day today?”

“Fine.”

He unbuttoned his white shirt, revealing layers of muscle underneath. “Did you romance Eros?”

Hypnotized, I gazed at him as he pulled off his shirt. It fell to the floor. I cleared my throat. “Yes, I played Eros a little.”

“Then, he is lucky.” Jean-Pierre unbuckled his belt. His gaze remained on me. “I’m jealous.”

“Don’t be. I plan to have my hands all over you this evening.”

His smile shifted to wicked. “Is that right?”

The pants hit the floor, and then his boxer briefs next. His cock hung long and hard between those muscled thighs. With a penetrating gaze, he watched me and slowly slipped his hand down the length of his cock. When his fingers met the mushroomed tip, he squeezed. “I hope you want to be fucked hard today.”

“It’s been a long day?”

“Longer than I wanted.” He licked his lips. An intense yearning dotted his next words. “I need you. I need your body. Your scent. Your mouth. Your pussy. I need a moment to escape.”

“You can have all of me.”

“Hmmm.” He slid into the tub, taking up the space with his presence. As soon as he came close, he gathered me into his huge arms. The bubbly water swished in the tub, spilling a little over the golden edge.

He kissed me and then pulled away. “What else did you do?”

“I watched the news a little and tried to catch up with the world.”

“What did you learn?”

“A famous ballerina was murdered. Lots of killings in Moscow too.” I felt nervous saying it, wondering if he actually knew any of the people involved. “There’d been some bombing in New York.”

That exhaustion returned to his gaze. “Yeah. Everybody’s been busy.”

“There’s a big fund to do a huge clean up in Harlem. Musicians and celebrities are leading a big concert. It’s been trending all day.”

“I should send something to their fund.”

“That’s really nice.” I thought about the things he’d told me and wondered if he knew more about the Manhattan bombing too. He’d explained that the Russians had been involved in internal fighting, and the battleground had started in New York.

A lot of these things were stuff I didn’t need to know. I had no foot in this life. At times, I found myself going back to Shalimar’s advice.

“Mind your business.”

After all that, I knew what Jean-Pierre had done to see me, I wondered if that advice still applied.

Shalimar had served as my aunt’s, brothel manager and personal assistant. Anytime I couldn’t find Aunt Celina, I called Shalimar. When I needed help coming up with Christmas or birthday ideas for Aunt Celina, I went to her.

In our small exchanges, we would comment about the weather or current state of politics, and then jump off the phone. Any dinner party, or charity gathering Aunt Celina held, Shalimar and I hung around together, chatting amongst the city’s influencers. During summers, Aunt Celina vacationed throughout Europe, leaving the Candy Shop in her hands.

Later, Shalimar and I worked together. She’d become my unofficial pimp.

And now, I learned that a lot of my life wasn’t really reality. Even Shalimar. She’d been helping him in some ways…and blocking him at other times.