Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

I’ll figure out who can be my tuner, once I get this money right.

I stared down at my violin case.

Eros was the most beautiful, and expensive, thing I cared for. He was the king of violins and cost millions of dollars. I paid a thousand a month for insurance, just in case a classy, smart thief happened to spot its worth at one of my concerts and plan a heist.

Eros was created by Antonio Stradivari in 1731. Stradivari, who was considered the greatest violin-maker of all time. The instrument was one of 600 Stradivari violins in the world.

And the history continued from there. Many celebrated musicians played it all over the world. By my time, Eros had made it to an eccentric heiress of a copper fortune. She enjoyed the instrument as a hobby. She died in 1970. Her family found the violin in her closet years later. The history after that was blurry.

We’re going to make some money tonight, Eros. Are you ready?

I moved my attention to the journey, gazing through the lace mask. The city sped past the glass.

Belladonna was full of good and bad neighborhoods. The wealthy and powerful outnumbered the poor. An unofficial Red Light District sat on the edge of the city. It was close enough for the rich to get to it, but far enough to forget they ever went.

Here we go.

The car turned the corner into the district. I’d only been here once. The first time I came, was when I moved to Belladonna. I knew my aunt had a place in the area, but since I was never invited to visit, I didn’t know much about it other than…you know…the sex. When I showed, she was pissed and possibly embarrassed. She immediately escorted me out of the Candy Shop and took me to her immaculate condo on the other side of town. The next week, she forbade me to ever go again. I didn’t know if it was because of my dad, or if she didn’t think I should be there.

Now I get to check this place out. Finally. That’s another upside. This will work.

Red streetlights signaled the entrance. Every building and store’s window had a red glow in it. We drove past bars with backroom gambling and bare fist fights. Many news reports came from stabbings or gun shots in this area.

The next set of blocks provided the brothels. The Candy Shop stood at the end in a nondescript building. A small bronze plaque hung above the entrance with its name on it.

“Thank you,” I said to the driver, grabbed my violin, and left the car.

I made it to the door in seconds. Two men stood inside.

Should I take off the mask?

“I’m here to play.” I lifted my violin case.

The tallest man smiled at me. “Celina told us. You must be her niece. We’re excited.”

“Music enthusiasts?” I asked.

The tall guy shrugged. “It’s a nice change to moaning and fighting.”

“I can imagine.”

He pointed to the side door and pressed a button on the wall.

I tried the handle. It opened. I entered a dimly lit lobby that was the size of my apartment. Gorgeous woman lounged in the space, sipping wine from beautiful glasses. A few blew out smoke. I sniffed the air and smelled weed.

No one stared at me as I walked in with my mask. I was sure they’d seen much crazier things here.

This is going to be an experience.

Sex throbbed through the brothel. It was this intense heat causing my nipples to stir.

I walked past the lounge and went to the next hallway. Cigar smoke tangled with the sensual scents of lit candles outlining the bar. Art hung on the walls, portraying nude orgies in a forest among hanging fruit. The décor was delicious. Sensuality rode the air.

My heart sped up. Excitement skittered across my skin, and between my legs warmth rose to my core.

Calm down. You’re here to play, not pay for action.

I was glad I wore the mask. It made me feel like I’d put on a secret identity. It allowed me to watch and not feel judged for being excited.

Wow.

All around me, beautiful women strolled with dangerous men. Make-up painted exotic faces. Jewels glittered along necks and dangled from ears. Men of all different races coupled with them. They all looked like gangsters. Some had guns in holsters. Most had scars.

Like the brothel’s sugary theme, everything oozed sweetness. The women sucked on lollipops. Bright colored lingerie decorated the few that wore clothes. White carpet covered the floors and resembled powder sugar. Multicolored chandeliers dangled like rainbow candy drops from the high ceilings. Waiters carried out drinks and savory smelling dishes. A huge fountain of chocolate stood in the center.

Seconds later, a red door opened in the back of the room. Shalimar appeared. Tall, exotic, and dressed all in black. Her long black hair swung from side to side past her hips.