Rhapsody: Interracial French Mafia Romance (The Butcher and the Violinist Book 1)

by Kenya Wright

“Hmmm.” Nodding, he continued, stepped onto the stage, and paused in front of me.

  I rose.

  “Jean-Pierre, what are you doing?” Shalimar scowled.

  “I’m only thanking her for that excellent performance.” He studied me. “You’re an amazing violinist.”

  “Thank you.”

  Closer, he looked even hotter. The whole face was perfect, even though his nose was the slightest bit crooked, like he’d broken it once or twice. And his eyes were a darker blue, like the ocean surrounding Belladonna right as the sunlight hit it.

  With that lovely accent he asked, “You were with the Belladonna symphony?”

  “I was.”

  He nodded. “I remember you.”

  You went to the performances?

  Shalimar snorted. “How would you even know that?”

  He turned her way and his voice held an edge. “Shalimar, you should go check with the chef. Her food should be out here by now. She has to be hungry.”

  I glanced at her.

  She gritted her teeth but walked off.

  O-kay. I thought she would’ve put up more fight than that.

  I turned back to him in shock.

  He remained silent as he appeared to drink me in. My gaze dropped to the open collar of his white shirt. The lines of his throat melded with a swell of muscle and disappeared into the soft fabric.

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “Eden.”

  “Why are you here?”

  I blinked. “To play.”

  “You’re too talented for this place.”

  I smiled. “I’m between jobs.”

  “Because of the symphony’s end?”

  “Pretty much.”

  He studied me.

  I stirred and tried to fill the silence. “So, you have an interesting accent. Where are you from?”

  “Paris, but I grew up in Nice.” For the first time, he smiled in the most delicious way, making my heart do flips in my chest for no reason. “Do you know any French?”

  I plan on relearning now, hot guy from France! Stop it. Aunt Celina and Shalimar both said to stay to myself. They didn’t say to flirt with a customer.

  I cleared my throat. “I had a few French courses in college. I also stayed in Paris for one summer. Now, I only remember a few things here and there.”

  “Tell me something.”

  “Vivre sans aimer n’est pas proprement vivre.”

  His smiled widened as he recited what I’d said in English. “To live without loving is to not really live.”

  I nodded.

  “Molière said it. Too bad that’s not true.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You don’t believe in love?”

  “I don’t believe in life.”

  And…o-kay.

  He dug into his pants and pulled something out. In the next movement, Jean-Pierre handed me a folded bill. “Here. That was wonderful playing. I didn’t want you to stop.”

  I reached for the bill. As my hand closed around the paper, he slipped his finger along mine—so quick, but warm enough to remember. “Enjoy your evening, Eden. I hope to hear you play again.”

  He moved his hand. I held the money. It was a small moment of touching, but I could still feel his finger slip against my skin.

  He walked off.

  Unable to help myself, I blurted out, “Thank you and…au revoir.”

  Oh god! That sounded horrible. Do not try to speak French again.

  Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder and licked his lips. “Adieu, ma chérie.”

  See! That’s how French should sound. Now what does ma chérie mean again? Cause I’m excited about that part.

  Thank God, he walked off, before I decided to propose. Being lonely and broke for several months had my hormones going when a hot guy came around. And with the fact that I was making a little extra cash, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to spend a few minutes flirting with a guy.

  Stop. He is a customer at a brothel. Really? Calm down.

  I unfolded the money that Jean-Pierre had given me. It was the first time I’d ever seen a thousand-dollar bill. I kept counting the zeroes to make sure I hadn’t gone dizzy.

  Now, that’s a tip.

  Additionally, there was a piece of paper folded inside.

  I pulled it out and read the message.

  “I want you to play for me. How much?”

  I tucked the money and message in my bra. I had to think about it. If he wanted me to play for him, then when and where? How much would I charge? And was that all he wanted?

  Should I even consider this?

  Shalimar returned.

  Grabbing my case and tip hat, I enjoyed my break at the table with the Chef’s delicious dishes. Once my break ended, I returned to the stage.

  New people entered and exited throughout the night. Many continued to tip. Others danced. The later it got, the wilder it became. By the last hour, I literally played Mozart while an orgy erupted right in front of me. It was ten women and four men, licking and lapping, sucking and thrusting. Grunting and fake moaning.

  I guess sex isn’t limited to the rooms.

  Through it all, I smiled and played. Money filled the tip hat. The $1,000 dollar bill stayed tucked in my bra. And with each song, I became more curious about the possibility of playing for Jean-Pierre.

  If he’s going to tip big, then he’ll pay big too.

  A waitress came over after I played my last song for the evening. “Mr. Fabron would like to have dinner with you.”

  “Who?”

  She gestured toward Jean-Pierre.

  I almost stuttered. “Dinner with him?”

  “Yes.”

  I thought about Aunt Celina’s warning to never talk to any of the clients here. “Please tell him thank you, but I have another engagement.”

  She nodded and went over to him.

  Good move. He's hot, but off-limits. Keep it cool, Eden.

  Packing Eros up, I headed to the exit.

  To my shock, Jean-Pierre stood in front of the door.

  My heartbeat increased.

  O-kay.

  I took my time walking toward him.

  That French accent rode each word. “Do you have a boyfriend or husband?”

  “No.” I tried to step around him.

  He didn’t move and remained in the way. “I only want to eat with you. Nothing more.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Nothing more?”

  “Only conversation.” He gestured to the table.

  I glanced that way and tapped my fingers against the violin case. “I…I have strict instructions to not talk to anyone here. I’m only supposed to play.”

  “I’m aware of those instructions. I can talk to your aunt.”

  “I would rather you not.” I smiled at him. “Good night, Mr. Fabron.”

  “Au revoir.” His voice slipped along my skin, as I forced myself to move forward.

  Working at the Candy Shop was about making money, not flirting with men.

  But damn he’s fine.

  When I left and made it to my apartment, I was three thousand dollars richer.

  My roommate Leo had a guy over in his room. The bed’s headboard banged against the wall like a bow in the midst of jeté—the French word for thrown. With this stroke, the bow bounced over and over the strings into two to six ricochets in a row. And that was what the bed did to the foundation.

  Go, Leo.

  Rock music played over their grunts. It meant that Leo had picked someone up from a bar. When it was more than a one night stand, he fucked to jazz.

  I’ll have to tell you the good news, Leo.

  Leo must’ve kicked Vibrato out. The cat lounged on the couch licking between her legs.

  “Come on, V. You know Leo will kill you if he sees you on that couch.” Exhausted, I headed to my room.

  V trotted behind me and hopped onto my windowsill. I’d placed two fluffy blankets up there, since she preferred to sleep there at night.


  “Mama came home with some money.” I closed the door behind me and twisted my hips when I walked over to the bed. “I did my thing, girl!”

  I made the rent for this month. We still had to make up for the past payments, but something was better than nothing. I could cover Eros’s insurance too, if his benefactor let me continue to use it after these two weeks.

  I breathed in a sigh of relief.

  Keep your head in the game, and this will pass.

  There was always next month’s bills. Other nights might not be as lucky as this evening, but I hoped that more surprises would come.

  This is going to work. I’m going to be okay.

  Meanwhile, Jean-Pierre remained on my mind when I finally went to bed and closed my eyes.

  Chapter 3

  Anatomy

  Eden

  My phone woke me up.

  Yawning, I checked the screen.

  Aunt Celina: Heard you had a good night.

  Me: I made a huge amount of tips. Thanks for the opportunity.

  Aunt Celina: Then, you’ll be there tonight?

  Me: Definitely!

  Aunt Celina: Good! I knew it would work. Your auntie is brilliant.

  Me: Yes! She is.

  I wore a red dress that night, feeling sexy and in a lighter mood. The Uber™ brought me to the Candy Shop on time. At this point, I was a pro, stepping inside, and nodding as the bouncers buzzed me into the main room.

  Shalimar met me at the door. She wore her hair up. Somehow, she’d wrapped those beautiful long stands around two onyx sticks with pearls at the tips. A red silk dress hugged her frame. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks.” I stepped inside.

  Tonight, people crowded the tables. There were no empty seats. A few men sipped wine as they stood in the back. Tons of half-naked women strolled around. Even more waiters rushed around to serve drinks.

  “Wow. The place is packed.”

  Shalimar grinned. “News travels fast in the Candy Shop. The girls found they make more money when the guys are listening to you play. For some reason, the men drink more.”

  “Sounds good to me.” I scanned the space.

  The whole place held new faces, except for one. Jean-Pierre sat at his same table. A new group of men surrounded him. These had scars too. They talked amongst themselves as he watched me.

  Focus.

  I changed the direction of my view.

  Another dancer performed on stage. This one twirled see-through scarves around her nude body. And again, all remained mesmerized by her, but Jean-Pierre.

  Shalimar snorted. “Unfortunately, he is here again.”

  I fingered the case’s handle. “Jean-Pierre’s usually not here?”

  “He hasn’t visited in three years. Last week, he popped up from out of nowhere.”

  “And before that?”

  “He was a regular, but then. . .something happened, and your aunt forbade him from coming back.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a secret.”

  “Then, why did she let him back this time?”

  “Money is low, and…well, Jean-Pierre is sort of an…accountant for pretty big people. The sort of people that own large parts of the Red Light District and solve their issues in ways that would make your stomach turn.”

  My gut knotted.

  She continued, “Because of that, no one can tell Jean-Pierre where he can’t go in Belladonna. He was being nice to your aunt by avoiding the place for these past three years.”

  “But what happened before—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Stay away from him,” she snapped.

  That was the first time Shalimar’s tone ever held an edge with me.

  Still, I couldn’t help but push it. “What else do you know about him?”

  She sighed. “They say he was talented at music, until something happened where he couldn’t play anymore.”

  “What instrument?” I held my hands out.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, and Jean-Pierre was never the type to talk about his life.”

  “Maybe he played violin.”

  Shalimar turned to me. “Why are you asking?”

  “I’m intrigued and wasting time.”

  “Has he approached you?”

  “Not…not like you’re thinking.”

  “Not like I’m thinking?” A frown replaced her cheery expression. “What did he say?”

  “He asked me to play for him, and how much it would cost.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “I didn’t. It was a written message.”

  She tucked a free strand behind her ear. “I don’t know if that would be a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re vanilla and not part of this life.”

  “Vanilla? Like…he’s into BDSM or something?”

  She grinned. “No, I’m saying…I doubt you’re his type. And I’m not saying you’re not beautiful or that he doesn’t like all kind of women. I’m saying that…he’s not going to be anything like the guys you’ve dated.”

  I almost told her that she didn’t know the type of guys I dated, but staring at Jean-Pierre, I knew she was right. None of the guys I’d met compared to him, and I’d barely talked to him for a few minutes.

  He played music? Of course, he did. He was whispering the notes last night.

  I decided to look him up during my break.

  Jene-Pierre Fabron.

  I wondered if his cock was as big as his name. Quickly, I shook that thought out of my head.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but. . .” Shalimar lifted her hand to her mouth and chewed on a nail.

  “But what?”

  She dropped her hand. “Maybe, you should take Jean-Pierre up on the offer. He would pay well. He’ll follow any rules you give him.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s a believer in rules. And…I’m sure he’s not interested in you like that. I mean sexually.”

  Thanks, Shalimar. I wasn’t suggesting he was attracted to me, but it would be nice if we both could pretend that was the case.

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I could book the deal, like I do with the other girls. In fact, you should have someone as the middle man.”

  “Why?”

  “If these guys see that you’re new, they may try to down-sell you on a deal. Even if it has nothing to do with sex. Whereas Aunt Celina or I will up-sell you. We’re like agents. We go for the highest amount and benefit because we get a percentage.”

  Blowing out a long breath, I considered it. I wasn’t even sure I would play for him, but I was open to the idea if she would help me. “What should I charge?”

  “Before we get into that, we should be wondering if your aunt would even approve.”

  “Do you think she will?”

  Shalimar turned to Jean-Pierre and then shook her head. “Hell no.”

  “Seriously?”

  “She told me to make sure you don’t do any private parties.”

  “Because?”

  “She’s your aunt and she wants you protected.”

  “But let’s remember that I’m an adult. Would she protect me because it’s dangerous or because I’m her niece?”

  “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.”