Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

Paris would eat her alive, if she let him. She needed my protection, not just from the maniac who’d been killing people around her, but even Paris could snap her up and throw her away.

You’re in my territory and Jean-Pierre is busy. He won’t be able to buffer anymore. You’ll have to deal with me.

She thought that she could stay away. She thought that she could torture me. She came to Paris—to my world and didn’t say hello?

I would show her what that meant.

Where are you?

My cock jumped in my pants, which was not an ideal situation with Giorgio sitting in the limo next to me.

Where are you, Shalimar? And are you going to make me beg again? More silent treatment?

Giorgio popped another mint in his mouth. “Where are we going?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

I brightened a little. “We can go to Shalimar’s.”

Giorgio frowned. “I’m not that hungry after all.”

“Are you implying that the food at my restaurant sucks?”

“No. It’s just that your chef hasn’t perfected the fusion of Chinese and French cooking. When you’re with me, she has to cook from the menu.”

“What do you mean? She always has to cook from the menu.”

“Nothing. But if I were you, I would let her revamp the menu.”

“She emailed me something, I refused. I like the damn menu the way it is.” I glared out of the window. “Jean-Pierre and you are such food snobs. Always complaining about the dishes. Why can’t you two embrace new things.”

“The octopus cordon bleu is atrocious.”

“That’s because it requires heightened taste buds.”

“Apparently,” Giorgio muttered under his breath.

“I’m just going to get a new chef. She’s been battling me on the menu the whole time anyway.”

Giorgio shook his head. “Gwen studied French cuisine for ten years. She’s living here to get the experience of cooking French food. You should have hired one that understood Chinese—”

“Gwen? Is that her name? Why do you know so much about my chef?” I eyed him from the side. “I didn’t even know she studied for ten years.”

“Did you read her resume? I sent it to you.”

“She was the only one that applied.”

“People probably heard that it was your name behind the restaurant and were too scared to apply. Gwen moved here a week ago when she applied. She didn’t know us.”

Gwen this. Gwen that. Interesting.

I glared at him. “Don’t fuck my chef.”

“What?” Giorgio widened his eyes and dusted off the shoulders of his jacket. “I would never.”

“You have a problem with fucking everyone’s maids.”

“It’s been a minute since I’ve done that.”

“We think it’s weird. Stop it.”

“I have.” He gritted his teeth. “And your shitty restaurant has nothing to do with my love of maids, or the fact that you’re limiting your chef’s abilities—”

“Because you’re well-acquainted with her abilities?”

When Giorgio fucked the staff, they stopped being productive. He’d caused chaos at Jean-Pierre’s house in Nice. Half the staff had fallen in love with him. The house had been a mess for weeks. The maids fought each other, and Jean-Pierre’s aunts had forbidden Giorgio to return for a good three months.

I’d let Giorgio manage Shalimar’s since Jean-Pierre kept me busy. He’d hired most of the staff, even though he found my ideas ungodly.

“Shalimar’s could be better.” He placed the mints in his jacket. “Have you even met Gwen?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“She’s quite a character and very funny. Usually she’ll come out of the kitchen and say hi. Probably because no one ever comes.”

I grumbled.

“One night I was in the. . .supply closet and when I left, I saw her crying in the kitchen. She’d just tasted those damn teriyaki croissants that you’d forced on the menu and was doubting herself.”

“The croissants taste good dipped in teriyaki.”

Giorgio pulled out his white leather wallet. It was his special one. He carried two wallets. The black wallet always sat in his left pocket. The white one resided in the right.

I’d only seen him pull out the black one a few times. I remember the whole room had gone silent to see what lay inside. He’d widened his eyes at us and simply pulled out some money.

This evening, he lay the white wallet on his lap and begun his after-treat habit. While the mint wasn’t truly a food, Giorgio would think so and want a full bath afterwards.

Continuing his conversation, he opened the white wallet and pulled out several wipes in a thin plastic container. “Maybe croissants would taste good, if they’re dipped in teriyaki. Then provide your customers with a dipping sauce, but don’t make the croissants teriyaki filled. You’re forcing something that’s not there.”

Forcing something that’s not there.

Shalimar’s face came to my mind.

I shook it away and considered what Giorgio had said earlier. “Wait a minute. Why were you in my supply closet?”

“That’s not significant to the story.”

I studied his face. “The waitresses are off limits too.”

“Now that’s being absurd. We all fuck waitresses.”