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

by Kenya Wright

  “Thank you for the advice.” I half-bowed and walked away. “Have a good evening, Celina.”

  Chapter 26

  Bon Voyage

  Three years ago

  Jean-Pierre

  We left the Candy Shop but did not head to the airport. Giorgio found us several suites in downtown Belladonna.

  Rafael and I didn’t exchange words. I was sure he could see the anger on my face. I’d been getting closer. At least I thought I was. Now we’d have to start over. Hopefully Shalimar would remain loyal. I didn’t want to teach her a lesson about betraying me.

  Noise came from the other rooms as they drank and played cards all night.

  I stayed in my suite that evening and watched Eden practice Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun.

  After buying the Belladonna Symphony, I hired the city’s noted socialite Oliver Strong to keep the purchase in his name as well execute my orders. I told Oliver to have the symphony’s maestro present Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun for their upcoming Fall Season. I also made it clear that Eden would be playing first position for the song.

  On the screen, she wore a bright blue elephant onesie and sat in her chair by the window, playing a perfect rendition of Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun. The heater had broken. Her roommate was trying to get in touch with the landlord to fix it. I’d already had Louie send a person over.

  They’ll think he’s from the landlord and not question it.

  Regardless, she looked so fucking adorable as she slipped the bow delicately along the strings. Every note she hit with precision.

  Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun was a difficult song, but when many thought of erotic classical music, it topped most lists. I knew it would test her. Help her grow. Obstacles made one stronger. Fear taught lessons.

  As she played, her talent rose and soared.

  It was a slow melody with layered orchestration. And with every flirtatious, silky note, the listener went on a sensual journey. It was supposed to evoke the eroticism of French poet Stéphane Mallarmé’s work called The Afternoon of a Faun.

  The poem showed a faun who, while playing his pan flute in the woods, became aroused by two passing nymphs. The poor faun pursued them with no success. He becomes unsure of if they’re real or fragments of a dream. But had he ever been awake? And were the nymphs part of a waking dream? Accepting failure, he went to sleep and dreamed about those beautiful nymphs.

  I’d seen a controversial ballet of the piece in Paris. During part of the melody, the choreography showed the faun masturbating.

  I touched the LCD screen, feeling just like that sex-crazed faun, yearning to catch his nymph. My laptop’s screen cooled against my fingertips. If I could go through it, I would. I would dig my fingers through the pixels and liquid crystals of carbon-based material. My touch would go beyond the laws of magnetic properties and time and space and reality.

  One touch. That’s all I want.

  If I could, I would do it.

  Fuck the fiber optic glass. I would shatter it to get closer to Eden. Fuck the fluorescent light containing mercury gas. Though toxic, I would take the risk. Fuck the circuit boards and heavy metals. Lead. Cadmium. Copper.

  Am I in a waking dream? Surely, I’m crazy for wanting her so much. Perhaps this obsession has become darker than I’ve intended.

  As she played, I slipped my fingers along the outline of her face and imagined touching her.

  How far will I go?

  There needed to be a point where I decided the limits. Would I give up? Would I let her aunt win this battle for Eden’s time and attention?

  Am I not a faun, unsure of if I’m awake? Maybe I’m still in that theater where I saw Eden playing the first night. Perhaps, I’ve fallen asleep and she’s playing this song right in front of me.

  I fell asleep to Eden’s playing.

  That night I dreamed of her.

  Barefoot, I walked in an enchanted forest at night. The trees held eyes, but no mouths. The sky swirled over and over in clouds of black. Still, bright white moonlight bathed my path.

  And there I saw Eden laying along a pile of flowers—pink and white roses and pale blue hydrangeas. She wore a blood red gown sleeping and a tree hovered over her. This one had no eyes, but the branches spread over her like a roof.

  Arousal rushed through me.

  I kneeled before Eden, scared to frighten her. Still, my movement woke her, and she fluttered those long lashes open to see me.

  “Are you hungry?” she whispered.

  Suddenly, I was starved. “Yes.”

  “Then, eat.” Slowly, she slipped up that long red gown and showed me the precious space between her thighs.

  Without hesitation, I dove between those thighs, licking and tenderly nibbling. Her moans lured creatures out of the shadows of the forest.

  They watched me taste her sweet nectar.

  A male screamed off in the distant, “Jean-Pierre!”

  Ignoring whoever it was, I explored Eden’s body more, lifting that gown up and caressing those full breasts.

  The man roared, “Jean-Pierre, wake up!”

  And the dream disappeared.

  I opened my eyes.

  And most of my men stood in the room with worried expressions on their faces.

  It didn’t matter that the sheets were off my bed and my hand had been gripping my erect cock. If they were all in here, then something had happened.

  I yanked my hand out of my briefs. “What the fuck?”

  Louis stood by the window and peeked out of the blinds. “FBI has surrounded the hotel.”

  Rafael shook his head. “And you know I hate FBI way more than Interpol.”

  “That goddamn woman.” I stomped over to my pants and dressed. “Is the helicopter ready?”

  Louis nodded. “It is, but I don’t know if the FBI will let us out of here. We need to make it quick.”

  “Yes.” Rafael pointed at my clothes. “Like I don’t care, if you have a shirt on quick. We need to go. Now.”

  “We have people on the FBI. No one warned us?” I buttoned my pants. “What about Agent Bugler?”

  No one said anything.

  “What?” I grabbed my shirt.

  Rafael spoke, “Bugler’s dead, along with the other ten agents we had on the FBI. They were all shot in their beds this morning. The news thinks it’s some serial killer since it was all in different locations.”

  “Fuck.” I grabbed my phone and walked off.

  Giorgio called after me, “I have your laptop.”

  “Good.” Rage stiffened my shoulders. “So, you’re telling me within twenty-four hours of Celina kicking us out of the Candy Shop, she killed all our dirty FBI agents and then sent the rest of the FBI to our doors?”

  Rafael got to my side. “Yes. That’s this morning’s summary.”

  We left my suite and headed to the roof.

  Giorgio always picked spots where there were several escapes. Most of us had escaped from jail and had not planned on ever going back—no matter what country we found ourselves locked up in.

  It took us no time to get to the roof. The helicopter landed right as we opened the roof’s door. We climbed in as fast as we could. No one had anything to say. We didn’t run away much, but in this moment, we were fleeing.

  My pride shattered under the reality of what was going on.

  I gazed out the window. Louis had been correct. FBI vans circled below us. Uniformed men scattered the area. And where I didn’t see that, I spotted the blue and red flashing lights of American police cars.

  While I hadn’t taken Celina’s threat from yesterday seriously, I would never underestimate her again.

  Her voice rang in my head.

  “. . .you have twenty-four hours to leave this city.”

  “And if we don’t?” I’d asked.

  “Then, I will push the buttons on my panel and let the cards fall where they may. This isn’t a threat. It’s advice from a wise woman that cares. Fly away, Jea
n-Pierre, fly far away.”

  I turned away from the view below and was happy to see no police or FBI helicopters in the sky.

  Thank God Giorgio is always prepared.

  Still, there would be no sigh of relief until my men and I was completely free and in France.

  Rafael sat next to me on the helicopter. “I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but we need to talk.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Then talk.”

  “I fucked up the Shalimar thing. My bad, but. . .”

  I turned to him. “But?”

  “But this shit with her aunt. . .we need to pause this whole. . .obsession you have.”

  I looked ahead.

  “Currently, Celina has more players on the board then we do. Either we change the board or take out her players.” Rafael sighed. “Neither one of those options we can do at this moment. Not with the FBI knowing our location and all of our agents dead.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  “So, you understand?”

  Too angry to speak, I nodded as the airport greeted my eyes.

  “We go back to Nice and regroup,” Rafael said. “Or rethink. . .this obsession.”

  “I’m not rethinking Eden.”

  “This was a fun hobby before, Jean-Pierre, it made us more powerful and richer. We’ve allied with stronger people, but now we’re getting the attention from the wrong kind.”

  “We always had their attention.”

  “How far do you really want to take this?” Rafael asked.

  “As far as necessary.”

  “But now war could be on the way with the Russians, and frankly, I’m not willing to go head-to-head with Kazimir over a woman.”

  “But you’ll do it for me, because I would do it for you.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to.”

  I sighed. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, let’s get home.”

  There would be no other option but to call defeat and race back to France. If Celina wanted to really have us captured, it would’ve happened. She had to be smart enough to realize that we’d had a means to escape. It was one of the few hotels with helicopter-access in Belladonna.

  No. This was a final message before she took the gloves off.

  We flew near the airport and toward the private section where Rafael’s plane had been parked.

  He shook his head next to me. “I’m really sorry about the whole Candy Shop thing. I didn’t know Shalimar would fall so easily for me. I mean. . .I was you know. . .liking her but—”

  “Motherfucker,” Louis cursed in French, interrupting Rafael’s babbling.

  I turned in the direction Louis was staring and groaned.

  Is Celina fucking serious?

  A long red carpet led to the stairs going up to Rafael’s plane.

  With a huge smile, Celina stood next to the beginning of the red carpet while holding a bottle of champagne. Five big Russian men stood behind her and gripped their guns.

  Two police cars were parked by her limo. A few of the cops leaned on their cars and smoked a cigarette, making it clear that they wouldn’t bother us, if we didn’t bother them.

  The limo driver stood behind the car with two big stylish poodles on his side.

  And on the other side of Celina was a jazz sextet. All five men wore tuxedos with pink roses in the lapel as they played their instruments. Saxophone and trumpet. Trombone and flute. She even had the audacity to have a man playing a piano. The last played a saxophone.

  Rafael scowled. “This Celina is not one for humility, is she?”

  I frowned. “Apparently not.”

  “You think those are her dogs?” Rafael asked.

  “Who else would have poodles here?” I scanned the rest of the space and saw no one else.

  Rafael growled. “I’m going to shoot those mangy dogs.”

  “Don’t.”

  Our helicopter landed near the plane.

  I jumped off first and stomped her way.

  Twenty feet lay between her and me.

  If I had a notebook and pen, I still wouldn’t have been able to describe the rage boiling within my chest. She’d kept me away from Eden, and while I understood why, it was time for her to let it go and give me a chance. She’d alerted the FBI and had come to rub it all in my face.

  We’ll see.

  Rafael and Louis rushed to my side and did a light jog as I prowled her way.

  “Don’t kill her,” Rafael said.

  “I won’t.” I sneered as I got closer. “I’ve heard women don’t like when you kill their family members.”

  Ten feet remained.

  The poodles with the limo driver barked. He yanked them away and walked them several feet away. Still, the closer I stepped to Celina, the more the dogs went wild.

  Eden’s family is tough. Not even the dogs are excited about me.

  Louis had been quiet most of the morning, but had decided to chime in. “Those men behind her are higher ranked than the Russians before. You see the stars on their neck. We should proceed with caution, pass her, and get on the plane.”

  “No.” I grunted as the distance closed. “We should at least say goodbye.”

  She smiled as I stopped in front of her. “Bonjour, Jean-Pierre.”

  I did my best to keep my expression neutral.

  Rafael and Louis stood right by me. Only God knew what they were thinking. We had to play this entire moment safe. FBI was swarming our hotel. The only important thing to do was get our asses in the sky and out of America.

  Not to mention that Celina had high level Russians behind her. They could’ve been men delivered from her lover’s powerful nephew, Kazimir. Although I didn’t fear the lion’s roar, I hadn’t planned on going to war with him this year.

  The band began to play but kept the volume low.

  Celina must’ve had a speech prepared.

  I smiled, when she began.

  “Have you heard this song before?” she asked.

  “I have,” I said. “It’s J’ai Deux Amours. Back in the 1930s, Josephine Baker would sing it in Paris.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You would know that. Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen also sung it.”

  “But not like Josephine Baker,” I hissed.

  “Why do you think I picked this song for your bon voyage?”

  “The song discusses having two loves—America and Paris. I’m confused by your selection.”

  “Why?” Celina asked.

  “While I do love Paris, I don’t love America. I come here for Eden.”

  “Unfortunately, that paradise was not meant for you.”

  “And no one else will have her either.” I leaned her way. “Not while I’m alive.”

  “Then, we’ll have to fix that.” She frowned. “I was hoping that this morning’s actions would be a valuable lesson for you, but it doesn’t seem like you enjoy learning.”

  Rafael chuckled. “Jean-Pierre has killed a few of his teachers.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t like authority figures.”

  Celina smirked. “Either way, I’m glad you don’t like America. Now that our country is aware that you’ve been traveling here, it wouldn’t be safe for you to return.”

  I gave her my warmest smile. “You’re correct, Aunt Celina.”

  The space under her left eye twitched.

  “Thank you for your concern, Aunt Celina.”

  “There are so many beautiful women in Paris.” She looked back at the Russian men behind her as if to ask them a question. “Isn’t Paris known for having the most gorgeous women in the world?”

  “No,” Rafael interjected. “Paris is known for food and fucking.”

  “And love,” I added.

  “And gaslights,” Louis chimed in.

  We all looked at Louis, including Celina. For some reason, he continued to explain, “That’s why they call Paris the City of Light. Because of the gas street lights.”

  Thanks for the history lesson, Louis.

  I turned back
to Celina. “Because you were so helpful for me today, I want to pay you back for all that you’ve done.”

  “No need.” She waved my statement away. “I do these selfless acts because I am a child of God.”

  “Good.” I frowned. “Because this is a time when you will need God.”

  Rafael stirred at my side.

  Louis checked over his shoulder as if making sure the FBI wasn’t heading to the airport.

  I stepped close to Celina.

  Two men aimed their loaded guns my way, but I didn’t give them my attention.

  My gaze remained on her. “When you go home this evening, I want you to call up all your lovers.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “You have to call them and say the things that you’ve always wanted to say. The things that you think you have time to say.” I placed my hands in my pockets. “Whisper I love you. Talk about all of your precious memories. Because soon, very soon, I will kill each and every one of them. Do you love any of them?”

  “Men come and go like seasons. They change. They leave. And relationships are just like seasons. Things fall. Things grow. Things get hot. Things get cold. Things get full. Things go empty.” She raised three fingers. “I don’t love men. I only love three things on this earth and Eden is one of them.”

  All of the Russians behind her still aimed their guns at me.

  “Do you see your men?” I continued to watch her. “They aim, but they don’t shoot, Aunt Celina.”

  “Stop calling me your aunt and they’re aiming at you because it’s a warning to you to get back.”

  “No. These men don’t know warnings. They only know orders, and at the moment, they’ve been ordered not to kill me.” I turned to Rafael. “Who do you think told them not to shoot me?”

  Rafael shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we should discuss this on the plane.”

  I turned back to Celina. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll find out every name of every one of your lovers, and I will kill them.”

  She gestured to her Russians. “Those are bold words to say to drawn guns.”

  “I’m not scared of men who aim at me and don’t shoot.” I leaned closer to her, leaving only a few inches of space between us. Her Russians got antsy but didn’t make a move. I lowered my voice. “You wanted a war with me. Remember that, when the blood sky darkens to smoke, and the screams keep you up at night and the blood drowns your fucking doorstep.”