Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

Damn. I like that pink on you.

I grunted. “I’ll have to talk to Giorgio about his decisions, later.”

Louis chuckled. “Giorgio made quite a few changes. Did you notice her chef uniform?”

She laughed, left the stove, and turned around for me. “Well, I know Giorgio can be full of it, but it’s fun to dress up.”

I frowned. “Giorgio required my chef to wear a tight white dress and heels?”

“Only when I make his dishes.” She winked again and began filling the containers.

One more cute wink, and I’d have her bent over in the supply closet.

Louis sniffed the air. “Mmmm. This smells good. I can feel New Orleans all around me.”

I turned her way. “That’s where you’re from, right?”

“Yes. Cooking in Paris has always been a dream.”

“Have you gotten to see Paris yet?” Louis asked. Usually he kept quiet. Apparently, the chef motivated him into conversation.

“I’ve gone a few places.”

“I could show you around,” Louis offered.

“No. You’ll be too busy.” I scowled at him.

Was Giorgio, and Louis crazy? If anybody was going to fuck, the new sexy chef, in my restaurant, it was going to be me. And I planned to fuck her right in the restaurant. I’d pound that lovely ass on every table. And then, I would mark her up in the kitchen and supply room, and any other place I could think of.

Yeah. They better back off. This chef is going to be my medicine for Shalimar’s bullshit.

“Gwen, ignore Rafael. I can make time for you.” Louis’s phone rang. He took it out and answered, “Yeah. What? Shit.”

He stormed off and left.

The kitchen went silent, except for Gwen’s soft humming. I tried to think of something to say, but nothing seducing could come to mind. I was off my game. Tired and hungry. Crushed in the head. Eden’s kidnapping had messed me up. Giorgio getting shot didn’t help. And then there was Shalimar’s betrayal, and Jean-Pierre’s erratic, suicidal actions this morning.

Jesus. I’m at a loss for words.

Surely, I had things spinning in my head, but nothing to spark a great conversation.

Hey, girl, I helped my cousin kidnap a chick and start an international war. What are you doing this evening? Maybe if I’m not dead, we can hang out.

Just when I was going to ask her about the weather, Jean-Pierre showed up with Kazimir’s lover on his side.

And the night gets better and better.

It appeared Jean-Pierre and Emily may have had a tussle in the bathroom. Water soaked both of them. Blood dripped from his nose. He only wore his pants. The wet mousy woman now frowned as she wore his buttoned-up shirt. Meanwhile, a few scratches decorated the side of his face.

Only three men surrounded them now.

Jean-Pierre spotted the chef and told them to take Emily in the front.

Yeah. I don’t want to explain to Gwen why there’s a wet, half-naked women in my kitchen.

The men escorted Emily away.

Still, Gwen’s eyes widened as she hurried around the kitchen and finished up. When she walked further back into the main supply room, I looked at Jean-Pierre. “What happened?”

“This Emily is smart and fast.” He dragged himself to a stool by the fridge and sat down. “She was taking too long in the bathroom. Two men went in to check on her, while I was on the phone. They never came out.”

“She killed them?”

“Knocked them out. They’re still sleeping in the bathroom.” He leaned against the wall. “Next, I caught her trying to climb into the floor. Some fucking sewer panel.”

“She was trying to climb into the sewer system?”

“Besides running through old shit and piss, it wouldn’t have been a bad plan.”

Paris had many underground passages—the old, no longer used sewer system, an immense subway system, catacombs, and crypts near Notre Dame. Ordinary citizens didn’t have access to the sewers and most of the other tunnels. But many used these places. In fact, they’d been used by the Corsican throughout history. Others escaped through them. Many held secret meetings. And the few that believed in more fantastical stories, believed that most of the Parisian vampires still strolled down there.

Gwen returned.

“Hi, Jean-Pierre.” She smiled and brought over the bags to me. “How’s Eden?”

Does everyone know Gwen, but me?

Jean-Pierre held a neutral expression. “Eden is. . .doing fine.”

“Good.”

Jean-Pierre spotted the bags. “Okay. Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time.”

“I’m coming.”

He stormed off.

I turned back to her. For a few seconds, I got lost in those eyes, hearing a song play around me.

She quirked her eyebrows.

“So…we should spend some time together,” I said.

“O-kay.”

“I want to…make some changes. . .in the restaurant.”

“Of course.”

“I see you’ve already changed the menu.”

She blushed. “Giorgio said he would give me the power, but I wanted to get a confirmation from you. He said there was no need, so I tried a few dishes last week.”

“That’s fine. Giorgio and I will talk about that.” I cleared my throat. “I was mad at first, but I’ve heard more people are coming.”