Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

And now Shalimar had gone silent.

Every sign screamed that I should stay in America and think this through further.

But something deeper moved inside of me.

Jean-Pierre had been gone for too long and he sounded like he was in pain.

He wasn’t my man. I wasn’t supposed to be concerned.

But I didn’t know how to turn that part of me off.

I have to see him. I want to make sure he’s okay. I’m going to Paris.

Chapter 28

Midnight in Paris

Eden

I flew first-class. The flight went fine. Even though anxiety messed with me, I managed to sleep the whole time. Jean-Pierre’s butler remained by my side. A team of guards always followed.

When we arrived at the hotel, butterflies fluttered in my stomach, only to die, when I realized Jean-Pierre wasn’t there.

Stanley gave me a weak smile. “Louis explained that Jean-Pierre will meet you at the restaurant this evening.”

“Okay. Thank you. What time will that be?”

“11:00pm.”

I wanted to scream in my head.

Calm down. You’re acting like you’re addicted to him. Am I? Yes, Eden, you are. We’ll just deal with it later. Get that good counselor that Shalimar talked about.

I checked my watch. It would be six hours until I met with Jean-Pierre. “Well. . .I have a lot of time to relax.”

“You do.” Stanley gestured to the guards. “They’ll walk with you anywhere you want to go.”

I spent most of the hours strolling through Paris with my eyes widened in amazement.

The weather was warmer than Belladonna.

I enjoyed the sun and how all the bright flowers glowed in the light. Sunshine sparkled on the café terraces of Boulevard Saint-Germain. An enchanting mist rose from the Seine River and shrouded Notre-Dame Cathedral. The city oozed a magical ambience that romanced me, just as Jean-Pierre had done each day we spent together.

The charm of Paris rested in the small details—the cobblestone streets and manicured trees, the tea salons and brasseries. I strolled into an avant-garde art gallery and loved the pieces.

Although I wished Jean-Pierre shared these first moments of Paris with me, the time had re-inspired my lifelong love affair with French culture.

Wow.

I returned to the hotel, showered, and then dressed.

The gown was more elaborate than I’d assumed from the first look. It was white, strapless, and molded to my body. When I walked, a long trail of soft fabric slipped along the floor. And last but not least, a diamond corset hugged my center and made an extravagant statement.

At his request, I wore nothing under it.

I swept my hair into a sleek updo and wore the small diamond drops he’d delivered along with the gown. To my surprise, a make-up artist came in later, painting my face and making every feature come alive.

When I finished, I went downstairs.

The sun had begun its journey to sleep. Still, the sky hadn’t darkened completely. Bright orange, yellow, and blue rays layered the romantic city.

A white limo waited outside. I’d been relaxed as I prepared myself for our reunion, but once I entered the limo my nerves unraveled. Finally, after all this time I was going to see him.

I hope he’s okay.

The limo drove through Paris’s bright streets and then stopped at the city’s iconic structure. The Eiffel Tower soared high above me in all its glory.

The limo stopped right next to it. I had no idea

Stanley had rode along and sat in the passenger seat. He opened my door, guided me forward, and took me up on the elevator.

I’m on the Eiffel Tower! Holy shit.

The ride proved exhilarating. We rose well over a dizzying two hundred meters. I stiffened and did my best to not look down. We stopped at the top level. My heart came close to stopping. While it was thrilling to be so high above Paris and witnessing such a panoramic view, the heights terrified me.

The doors opened.

I stepped off.

Stanly remained on. “The hostess will guide you in.”

“Thank you.”

A woman stood in front of me. Blonde waves teased her shoulders. She wore a stylish knee-length black dress that showed off her curves. She smiled and spoke in French. “We’re still getting ready.”

I stumbled with my response, hoping I’d said the right French words. “No problem. I can stand and enjoy the amazing view.”

She nodded and walked me into a private room. Large windows served as the walls. Paris sparkled and glittered all around me. The space gave me the best view in the city. Only one table sat in the small room. A soft pink cloth covered it. In the back of the room, two servers set out dishes and uncovered trays of simmering food. A savory aroma drifted from them. Men carried in large vases stuffed with long stemmed roses and began lining the room. On the right, a man sat down at the piano and tuned the keys.

How was he able to do this? How much would something like this cost?