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

by Kenya Wright

  “Oh mon amour. Mon coeur. Ma reine. Mon tout. Ne t'arrête pas.”

  Even though I couldn’t capture everything he said, his French made me crazy. A rush of desire sparked low in my belly, coming from the very heart of me. Coiling. Whipping. Spreading and blazing like a forest fire.

  “Damn you,” he growled. “I’m already so close to coming.”

  “Put it all over me.”

  “Oh, Eden.” He grunted, bucking his hips into my mouth.

  Someone knocked.

  Neither of us answered.

  All I could focus on was that massive cock, jutting in and out of my mouth with the force of a man that owned the world. Injured or not, he had command of me. My body. My attention. My heart. Even my mouth.

  He dominated me as I kneeled on the floor. “Sirène.”

  Hot semen hit the back of my throat. I groaned and lifted my mouth as more spilled out. He shuddered uncontrollably under me.

  And then I knew, that it wasn’t him dominating me.

  I had control of him.

  “Eden,” he moaned.

  I swallowed down some of the hot liquid spurting from his cock.

  He yanked it out.

  More spilled from the tip.

  I lapped at it.

  He lifted me up with both hands. The sling was gone again. But I could barely focus as he picked me up, pressed my back against the glass, and fucked me until the sun rose over Paris.

  Chapter 29

  The Lion and the Butcher

  Three months ago

  Jean-Pierre

  For three years, Celina and I battled the other.

  After that day when Celina kicked us out of America, Rafael and I had gone to Moscow and knocked several Bratva faction leaders out.

  No one understood why we’d done it, especially the Russians.

  What everyone knew was that the Corsican and Bratva were at war.

  Three years went by.

  Bodies piled.

  Russia, France, the FBI, and Interpol jumped on high alert.

  Louis had bought new agents on all sides. We’d discovered several agencies monitored the situation.

  I had photos of FBI walls littered with pictures of Kazimir and me.

  The Lion and The Butcher.

  On the organization’s boards our pictures headed two different empires made of other pictures of our men that were taped up into the shapes of big pyramids. Red string were taped to one picture and linked to another. Little by little, these agencies attempted to piece together the origin of our war.

  Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service alleged that the battle dealt with arms dealings. The UK’s MI6 jumped in, claiming that the fight had begun over problems of territory in America.

  Men never understood the conflicts of a human heart.

  Why else would one kill another, if not for love?

  And so we had three years of war. Celina had two lovers in Russia—a politician and a high military general. They died the first month. I killed her prime minister in London, right in his opera box. The next day, I sent his face to her doorstep.

  I hadn’t touched the lover in Prague, due to his close relation to Kazimir. But I planned to get him this week.

  Shalimar continued to give Rafael information. After a year, she refused to talk to Rafael anymore, and agreed to give any details to Louis. However, she remained loyal and continued to spy for us.

  Every now and then, Rafael returned to Belladonna, but no one knew what he was doing.

  The only good thing about these years was that Rafael and I had made France a powerhouse. For the first time in decades, the Corsican was as feared as the Bratva, if not even more. Some of the weaker Bratva units hid when we snuck into Russian towns. All were unsure of how the Bratva had disrespected us. So naturally, they did not want to further insult.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t enter America without flagging every agency and country. I remained in Paris most of the time, making my chess moves from there, and watching Eden live her life in Belladonna.

  Due to my inability to see Eden, the past three years were filled with lots of blood and rage. I killed more than I ever had in my life. I’d sliced and cut. I replaced ten bladed-bows, breaking one on a Russian’s spine.

  Bratva died left and right.

  Many of my men remained in Belladonna to watch Eden. Giorgio had returned and headed our operations there.

  The one positive to this whole situation was that Celina and I had guarded Eden so well, that she’d given up on dating. No man could get through my men or Celina’s. So, Eden slung herself into the symphony, not knowing why no new men had asked her out or took a minute to say hello.

  Around Christmas, I took a break from the war and let the Bratva spend time with their families and open presents. Hopefully, they would give their kids good memories, before I cut their hearts out.

  They’ll pay by the New Year. I can’t believe Celina did that to Eden.

  It’s Celina’s last attempt for control. She shut the Belladonna Symphony down. There’d been no reason for it, but I was sure my control of the Symphony had her on edge. She had her Russians dump dead bodies in the theater and the city police plant evidence of corruption on the board. All of that led the FBI to the actual crimes of our money laundering through the organization.

  Luckily for her, we’d pulled out our funds, before the FBI had frozen our accounts.

  She took the Symphony away from her niece, just so I couldn’t touch her. Now what will Eden do? This has to end soon.

  My limo stopped at the address that Rafael had given me.

  Louis sat next to me.

  I looked at him. “Do you know what Rafael’s surprise is?”

  “No,” he said.

  Rafael had asked for all of us to show up.

  When the limo parked in front of a large building, I leaned toward the glass and looked out. On the building, a large name blared in pink.

  Shalimar? He named something after her? Why?

  We all had gone through a change in these past two years. While I’d gone darker, Rafael had somehow brightened. He still killed with a vengeance by my side, but there were times when Rafael could be seen staring at his phone as if waiting for someone to text a reply.

  I left the limo and headed to the building’s entrance.

  Louis let out a long breath behind me. “Now this explains why he made me leave America and come back to Paris last year.”

  “Why?”

  He got to my side. “I was the only person serving as a middle man to Shalimar and him. I thought Rafael didn’t like it, but—”

  “You think Rafael is obsessed with Shalimar?”

  Louis gestured to the title of the building.

  I nodded. “Good point.”

  “I hope I’m wrong. It’s hard enough dealing with your obsession. We don’t need Rafael falling in love too.”

  I glared at him.

  “Sorry.”

  We entered a massive space that was pretty much empty besides a few tables and chairs. The walls had just been painted bright pink. Several men walked around moving boxes and hammering on things.

  Rafael stood in the center holding a bottle of Prosecco in each hand. “Do you like my new restaurant?”

  I headed his way. “Yes. There’s plenty of potential.”

  Rafael looked at Louis.

  “It’s. . .a good location,” Louis offered.

  I waited for Rafael to explain more. Instead, he popped the bottles open and poured us both a glass. Once he was finished, he raised his glass in the air.

  Louis and I followed.

  Rafael declared, “Let’s toast to our victories.”

  “And Shalimar,” Louis added.

  I sipped my glass.

  Rafael watched Louis. “Why did you say you wanted to toast to Shalimar?”

  “It’s the name of your restaurant,” Louis said.

  “Yeah, but you have something to say about that?” Rafael set the glass d
own.

  “Hey.” I stepped next to Rafael. “Shalimar is the name of your restaurant. Of course we would toast to. . .the name.”

  “Okay.” Rafael nodded and finished his glass.

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “But. . .while we’re on the name and Shalimar, perhaps you could explain the inspiration.”

  “I like the name.” Rafael poured another glass and turned his attention to the bottle.

  Louis exchanged a worried glance with me.

  Good point. We don’t need another obsession and war. One love-crazed fool at a time.

  I was about to push the topic further with Rafael, until the restaurant’s door opened.

  All of us turned that way. Neither Louis, Rafael, or I said anything, but I was sure we cursed in our heads.

  Several Russians stepped inside. We’d seen many Russians in these years and killed damn near all of them.

  But this Russian would not be killed on this day.

  Silently, Kazimir stood in the doorway several feet in front of us, wearing a crisp suit. The outfit was something I might’ve picked up at the Paris Runway. Had it been other circumstances I would’ve asked him for his tailor.

  He studied the space as if he’d been considering buying the property.

  We all remained quiet and alert.

  What is he doing here? This could go either way.

  Paris women bragged about Kazimir’s looks. It annoyed the shit out of Rafael, whenever he heard whispers of The Lion. Now face-to-face, I could admit Kazimir was a handsome man. He had the whole structured face thing. The kind I saw in movies and on runaways. Dark hair. Blue eyes. He had the look that made women imagine he was a bad boy that would save them.

  I doubt he would save anybody.

  I sized him up. He was a big guy. At least 6’4. Shoulders a mile wide. And a sleek jaw that looked like it had taken a lot of punches.

  I’d been studying The Lion for these two years, waiting for this moment to occur. We’d never killed any men close to him, but still we’d hacked away a good set of the Bratva. Enough to get his attention for sure.

  It was only a matter of time before this meeting occurred.

  I just wished we had more than glasses of Prosecco in our hands.

  Two men flanked Kazimir.

  I recognized both.

  The one on the left was Misha. He was the son of Celina’s lover Igor. Therefore, Misha was Kazimir’s cousin and also pretty pissed with us for messing with his father’s plaything. He was as tall as the other two men with the same dark hair and chiseled features as Kazimir.

  On the right was Sasha. Many called him The Wolf. He had pale blond hair that was cut close to his head. I’d learned that he was Kazimir’s stepbrother. After Sasha’s mother died, his father married his mistress—Kazimir’s mother. They’d called his father The King. Long ago, he’d been Vory v Zakone—a thief in law. Later, this King ran the Bratva and was killed. By all accounts, Sasha should’ve been the next in line, but Sasha enjoyed the pleasure of men. And Kazimir had gained a violent, bloody reputation as a fierce leader.

  The Bratva crowned Kazimir, and Sasha stayed loyal at his side.

  More men entered. Large, muscular men. They were dressed in black suits. When each one stepped inside, they stood by the wall and scanned the space. Some scowled at us. The rest held stiff expressions as if they were on edge. Almost all of them had tattoos on their necks. Others had a few scars.

  The other faces weren’t familiar, but all screamed one thing.

  High-level Bratva. They’ve bought the leader in to talk this through.

  He walked toward the wall on our right and studied the pink coating. “Is this the final color?”

  Rafael looked at me.

  I shrugged.

  “Yes,” Rafael said.

  “Hmmm.” Kazimir continued to walk around the restaurant and check it out. “What sort of food will be served here?”

  “Chinese,” Rafael said.

  Kazimir turned to him. “A Chinese restaurant ten blocks from the Eiffel Tower?”

  “Sure.”

  Kazimir checked the wall again and then shook his head. “No. I don’t like this idea at all.”

  “Excuse me?” Rafael straightened his jacket. “I don’t think I asked you for your opinion.”

  Kazimir stalked our way, then stopped three feet in front of us, and directed his view to Rafael. “They said you were the funny one. Don’t they call you the Comedian?”

  “Le comédien,” Rafael corrected.

  “Yet, you don’t live up to the name.” Kazimir turned to me. “And you are le boucher.”

  I nodded. “How can I help you, Kazimir?”

  “Good.” He smiled. “You know my name too. There’s no need for a long introduction.”

  Kazimir pointed to the back of the restaurant. “I was told there is a nice hill and a path that leads to a garden. We can talk out there.”

  He walked off and headed that way.

  I had no idea that Rafael had even bought this property. Meanwhile, Kazimir’s men must’ve had a blueprint.

  He does have access to satellites. He probably knows a whole lot more.

  Rafael, Louis, and I followed.

  Kazimir’s men remained behind—Misha and Sasha. Both gazed at us with pure scrutiny.

  Rafael leaned his head my and lowered his voice. “What do you think the Lion wants?”

  I frowned. “To show us how big his dick is.”

  “It’s not bigger than mine.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Rafael grunted.

  We headed outside.

  The journey to the garden held suspense and tension. The sun was just setting. Lit red lanterns dangled from the newly-planted bonsai trees outlining the walls.

  Kazimir gestured to the lanterns. “You really went with the theme.”

  Rafael kept his voice low. “I had no idea the Russians had such a talent for decorating.”

  We reached what I assumed was the garden. Iron wrought benches sat in the center of roses and tulips.

  Kazimir sat down on the first bench.

  I lowered on the other.

  The rest of our men stood around us.

  Kazimir looked at me. “Four years ago we had a shot of sake in Tokyo?”

  “We did.”

  “And the conversation was to your liking?” he asked.

  “It was.”

  “Yet, you’ve been killing my men for the past two years.”

  “My anger has nothing to do with the Bratva,” I said. “My conflict has nothing to do with your uncle either. He just has provided my enemy with your men.”

  Misha walked my way and handed me a large picture.

  Eden’s face greeted my eyes.

  Rage filled me.

  “Is this the reason for the conflict?” Misha asked.

  I gave the picture back to him. “Yes.”

  Misha smiled. “Then, if I kill her, we’ll be done?”

  I rose.

  The Russians took out their guns. Louis and Rafael stayed between them and me.

  Kazimir remained seated. “I’m sorry, Jean-Pierre, but my cousin is not as proficient with negotiations as we are.”

  Misha chuckled, walked over to Kazimir, and sat down by him.

  I straightened my jacket and returned to my seat. “Killing Eden is not an option.”

  “I didn’t think it was,” Kazimir said. “However, I’ve been known to take the wrong measures, when a problem begins to annoy me.”

  “Then, we should find a solution,” I said.

  “What would resolve this?”

  “Your uncle’s men staying out of this.”

  “It seems Uncle Igor will only pull back if his lover agrees.”

  “Then, I can’t see a solution.” I rose from the seat. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

  The sky darkened around us as the sun made its final descent.

  Kazimir rose and turned his gaze up. “The new moon comes
tonight.”

  “I usually don’t pay attention to those things.” I placed my hands in my pocket.

  “People usually look forward to the full moon. Everything feels more magical with that big glowing rock hanging over us.” Kazimir gestured to the sky. “But when the new moon arrives. The slate is clean. The night is a thick shadow without the moon's mystical gleam. It’s a tranquil time, when nature became calm.”

  He directed his view to me. “Humans go calm too. It’s renewal. Re-birth. A time to rethink the choices you made during the last month’s phases of the moon.”

  “And you think I should take some time to rethink my choices in these past two years?”

  “That would be wise.”

  “The new moon is symbolic of the second chance we are given over and over again.” Kazimir touched his chance. “I believe that I’ve given you many second chances by staying out of this fight, but now I’m in. And by the next full moon, my uncle will be given all of my resources.”

  Misha stepped us to us and pointed out at the city. “If my father gets Kazimir’s toys, then Paris will be a flat piece of crumbled ruins and dirt.”

  I glared. “That’s a big threat over a small conflict.”

  Kazimir’s famed roar edged to the surface. “You’ve bloodied the streets of Moscow and St. Petersburg over your violinist. Retreat. You have the next full moon to pull the Corsican out of Russia.”

  Misha added, “All of them.”

  Rafael entered the conversation, “Then, the Bratva won’t be welcomed in France.”

  Misha laughed. “The Corsican don’t even own France. We just let you rent it.”

  Louis held Rafael since my cousin was close to blows.

  “Calm down.” I got between my men and the Russians. “I make no move until the full moon.”

  Kazimir leaned his head to the side. “And if you decide to push me?”

  “Then, you’ll know, in my way.”

  “Make sure it’s well thought out, if you come for me.”

  “Trust me. I always think things through.”

  Kazimir nodded. “Then have a good evening, gentleman.”

  I told him goodbye in Russian. “Proshchay.”