Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

“I would go with niece. You could handle Jean-Pierre. He’s not the type to get out of hand.”

But she wouldn’t tell me why Aunt Celina had forbidden Jean-Pierre to visit the brothel. That secret dangled in front of me like a curious cat. I thought about the money that I’d earned last night. If Jean-Pierre only wanted me to play for him, then I could and earn extra money.

Aunt Celina’s words played in my head.

“Good. Because if my brother isn’t going to help you out, then he can keep his religion and advice to himself. You want to be a famous violinist? Come to my establishment. Big hitters are there.” Aunt Celina shrugged. “You never know, Eden. Someone may fall in love with your music so much that they want to be a benefactor.”

“Maybe…I can play for him one time. Aunt Celina doesn’t have to know about it.” I tapped my foot. “But it has to be a high amount. Definitely over three thousand.”

“I could handle that and get you the highest price.” She looked like she was adding money in her head. “But I would take ten percent, and that covers me having your back the entire time. You would never be on your own. I’m here for advice, security, transportation-to-styling.”

“Like an agent?”

“More like a pimp.”

“But, you’re not my pimp.”

She laughed. “We’ll see.”

“Not funny.”

The dancer finished and left the stage.

“Okay. You’re up.” She smiled. “Do you want me to handle the deal with Jean-Pierre or not?”

“Give me some time to think about.” I still wasn’t sure if I could trust Shalimar, but she’d never done anything to me before and Aunt Celina let her run the Candy Shop for years. This was Shalimar’s world. A guide would help. And Jean-Pierre sounded like a scary character, even though he was insanely gorgeous.

Maybe I was pushing my luck with the whole situation. I’d made three thousand last night, mainly thanks to him, but still I should take my time with the decision.

And so, I stepped on the stage, opened my case, took Eros out, and made him sing the rest of the evening. People tipped me throughout the songs. Even some of Jean-Pierre’s men rose and dropped a bill in the hat here and there.

The whole time Jean-Pierre watched me with a sensual intensity. He looked close to leaving the table and coming my way. I didn’t know if it was all in my mind, but he appeared entirely attracted to me and even more interested in my body as well as my violin.

Focus on the music, Eden.

I finished without messing up any songs, but my panties were wet, and my nipples stiff under the dress. With Jean-Pierre watching me the whole time, I could think of nothing else but him. For my first break, I planned to research him.

When I finished, I closed Eros up in his case.

Jean-Pierre appeared at the stage. His voice drummed through me. “Why did you choose Debussy tonight?”

I looked up. “I think if Debussy was alive, he’d be in a brothel.”

His straight expression softened. “Have you thought about my offer?”

“I have.”

“How much?”

“I’m. . .going to have Shalimar handle it.”

He nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re an amazing performer wasting your time here. You’re probably bad at business.”

“I explained why I’m here.”

“But the answer didn’t satisfy me.”

I grinned. “Then, why are you here?”

“In Belladonna?”

That’s a start.

I shrugged. “Sure, why are you in Belladonna?”

With a serious expression, he said, “I’m here to play god.”

I blinked. “And how is that going?”

“As it does, when men play god.”

“And why are you in the Candy Shop.”

“To listen to a beautiful woman play a very expensive violin.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You have a good eye. Did you used to play?”

The smile left his face. “Why do you ask?”

His hard expression made me stumble through my response. “You…looked like you knew the notes that I was playing.”

“How?”

“It looks like. . .well…you whisper the notes as I play. Your eyes focus on my finger placements. At times…you look like you’re moving my bow in your mind.”

The corners of his mouth curved. “You watch me a lot as you play.”

I swallowed. “You didn’t answer.”

“I used to play.”

“Violin?”

“Yes.”

Excitement hit me. “Do you still play?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Give it to me.”

Quirking my eyebrows, I gave him my right hand.

As soon as he touched me, a connection came. I felt him more as if I was slipping next to his body. He hissed a little and pulled me an inch closer to him.

People continued to chatter around us, but I spotted Shalimar off in the corner watching us with a worried expression.

So much for following Aunt Celina’s no-talking-to-customers rule.

Holding my hand, Jean-Pierre turned it over and put my palm face up. “Every year, people break bones in their hands. And because we are so dependent on them, even a small loss of function can be a lifelong disability.”