I widened my eyes, and tried to breath the truth of his words in. This was beyond my world. Jean-Pierre had spent time explaining about the Russians. The whole situation terrified me. I didn’t like the idea of a man like Kazimir even knowing Jean-Pierre.
He nipped at my lips. “Don’t look so worried. I happen to be a scary too.”
“I don’t want you to fight Kazimir.”
“I won’t, if I don’t have to.”
“I hate that you had to go against him, and that my Aunt Celina forced you to.”
“Don’t worry about that either. Kazimir and I would have had to deal with each other one day. We’re both too high on the food chain to not bump into each other.”
I let out an exasperated breath.
“Everything will be fine.” He switched to French. “I’ll always protect you and the love growing between us.”
Love?
The more I practiced my French, the more I realized that Jean-Pierre liked to slip secret messages into his shielded words. I wasn’t sure, if he knew I understood. That was the other thing I was learning about him. In some ways, he was guarded with his emotions and feelings. Somethings, he could only tell me in French.
Jean-Pierre returned back to English. “Rafael wants to leave France and search for Shalimar. He asked me for my opinion.”
“And what did you say?”
“That I wanted time to think about it.” He tucked the curl behind my ear and reached for another one. “What do you think I should tell him?”
Oh. You’re asking me?
I thought about it for a few seconds and answered, “Does Rafael love Shalimar?”
“He thinks he loves her.”
“You don’t think so?”
“I think he cares for her with his whole heart. I think that he would do anything for Shalimar, even come close to dying for her.” Jean-Pierre shook his head. “But love? I’ve never seen Rafael in love, but I think it would look differently.”
I thought back to what Jean-Pierre had told me, about Rafael and Shalimar. There’d been a point where Rafael, had slept with several of the prostitutes that she worked with.
Jean-Pierre continued, “With Kazimir being alive and unpredictable, I want all of us to lay low. This is a good time for us to go back to Nice and relax. I don’t want Rafael or anyone else too far away from me.”
“So, you think it’ll be dangerous, if Rafael goes looking for Shalimar?”
“Celina is tangled up with the Russians. We heard that once Kazimir killed Sasha, he’s been cleaning house. I don’t want us anywhere near this.”
“But you don’t want to tell Rafael no?”
“I don’t.” He left my hair alone and pulled me closer to him. “I can’t tell him that Shalimar isn’t worth the threat of the Russians, when I fought a war for you.”
“That’s true.”
“What would you do?”
“I would tell him to go. He’ll regret it, if he doesn’t. And that regret will keep him hostage for a long time. But…if I were you two, I would do everything I could to protect him while he searched for her.”
“If I send too many men with Rafael, then he’ll think I’m coddling him.”
I grinned. “You coddling someone? No way.”
“I can be a bit intense, and protective with the ones I care for.”
Sarcasm dripped from my words. “Really? I’m totally shocked from that confession.”
He smiled, but it didn’t remain for long as he sighed. “That’s what I’m going to do. Let him go but protect him fiercely. You’re right.”
I am? Well. . .yes, but. . .get a second opinion from someone in the Corsican.
I felt grossly inexperienced giving him advice on any of this. In some ways I was shocked that he’d told me. He didn’t have to.
In fact, since his confession, he’d been telling me more and more about his world. I knew he was nervous about telling me these things. When he discussed anything dealing with the Corsican, he watched my reaction with a careful gaze. Did he see this as a test? Or was this part of the job of being his girlfriend? When things went bad in his world, who did he talk to?
Would it now be me?
He closed his eyes. I did too, enjoying our connection. He held me like he was never going to let me go, and it felt so good as I breathed him in.
The jazz song shifted to classical. César Franck’s, Violin Sonata in A Major played. Franck was a French composer and this work had been one of the most celebrated pieces in the violin sonata repertoire.
I had no idea who was playing the violin in this song, but they owned every note. I groaned with enjoyment.
Jean-Pierre whispered, “You’re enjoying the violinist?”
“I am. This song has always been so romantic to me.”
He brushed his lips against mine. “Do you know the story behind it?”
“No.”
“Franck’s father was a banker but believed that his son would be a great composer. He gave his son lots of financial support. Franck worked as a professor during the day and composed at night.”