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

by Kenya Wright

  Eden watched me on the television.

  On the screen, I walked up to the violin, touched the case, and gazed at the object like a deranged man. My face twisted in disgust when I didn’t feel the magic that I’d hoped to experience. And then I turned to Eden. Desperation replaced the disgust. After a while, I walked away, gazed back a final time at Eden, and then left.

  I stopped the footage. “This video is from your aunt’s security team. I ended up getting people on her security.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wanted you, and she didn’t want me to have you.” I placed the remote control on the table. “I saw you and couldn’t think of anything else. I became obsessed. And you have to know that right now. I became addicted. I went to war.”

  “O-over me?”

  “Over you.”

  She turned back to the tv. “With. . .my aunt?”

  “Yes.”

  Shaking her head, she rose. “I don’t know what’s going on, Jean-Pierre, but none of this is making any sense. My aunt Celina has a brothel, but she’s—”

  “A powerful and very dangerous fucking woman.”

  “My aunt?”

  “Has the ears of powerful men.”

  Eden sighed. “That, I believe.”

  “And she uses those ears to keep you protected. From the moment her security team saw me break into your apartment, they did what they should have. They placed a protective barrier around you. They treated me like a stalker.” I shrugged. “I won’t dispute that my actions didn’t present me in a non-stalker light.”

  Eden took several steps. Her gaze followed the floor. “I remember bumping into Russians all the time. It started three years ago.”

  “Those were your Russian guards.”

  “And then I started seeing a lot of French guys.”

  “And those were my men around you.”

  She looked up. “So, Aunt Celina was guarding me from you with Russian men. And you had your men around me. . .for what?”

  “To get some way to talk to you, and to keep other men away.” If I was going to admit the truth, I would have to tell it all. “If I couldn’t have you, no one else would either. This is who I am, Eden. I’ve told you before—”

  “You don’t share.”

  “I don’t.”

  She gave me a weak smile. “No threesomes allowed.”

  “None.”

  She sighed. “None of this is making any sense. How did I not know that all of this was going on around me?”

  “You’re dealing with two people whose business is to do things under the table and within the shadows.”

  She hugged herself. “I don’t feel like I know anything anymore.”

  “Anything you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

  Her bottom lip quivered again as her face held a sad expression. “Tell me everything. Please, start from the beginning.”

  And so we sat back down, and I walked her through every year. Every conversation between Celina and me. Every fight. Every time I’d come to Belladonna. Every time I’d fled. Every enemy I’d made. Everyone I’d defeated.

  It felt like talking in the confessional of a church.

  I broke open my ribcage.

  Ripped through my chest.

  Cut through my heart.

  I shed my soul.

  Placed it right in her hands.

  Hoped for the best.

  Hoped that my soul would still thrive.

  Hoped my heart would still beat with it being gone from me and in her hold.

  She drank as I talked.

  Her gaze widened in between the gory parts. I didn’t discuss those things in detail, but she had to know that I was a killer, and on what level. If she would be mine, I wouldn’t pretend to be someone else. She would have to know.

  She’d heard that I was a killer, but she didn’t know that I was a monster.

  At the end, she leaned back in her chair and whispered, “How many people do you think you killed over me?”

  “Hundreds at least.” I took no glory in it, but I tried to help her understand. “I…I wasn’t born to be a killer. I didn’t wake up one morning as a kid and dream of murdering people one day. I became a monster through horror. Life created the monster. The beast wasn’t born. Mine was man-made.”

  “And you think that you will always kill?”

  I left the table and walked over to the wall close to us. These were difficult questions she was asking. These were things I hadn’t dealt with in years.

  I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. “I think that killing will always be an option for me to solve problems. For others, death is not a resolution. For me, it is.”

  I didn’t open my eyes. In my mind, I imagined her reaction. Disgust. Horror. Her mouth gaped open. A cry of fear.

  Is she scared to be with me now?

  “This is everything?” she asked.

  I opened my eyes, feeling empty and clean for the first time in years. “That’s everything. Any questions you have, just ask. I’ll tell you anything that I haven’t thought of.”

  She stared at me from across the room. Those beautiful eyes dissected me. I felt cut and open for her. I’d shown her the madness. I’d revealed the inside of my mind. The swirling chaos. The dark depths of my personal hell these past years.

  She’d held a sad expression and then tried to curve her mouth into a weak smile. “So, at least you never slept with Shalimar.”

  “She told you I did?”

  “Yes. She said you slept with several women, and that many were in love with you. Now I know that was Rafael.”

  “It was.” I made a note to have a conversation with Shalimar soon.

  Rafael had been looking for her this week. Her phone hadn’t been picking up. A message kept saying that it was disconnected. Giorgio had sent men to her apartment. She’d never answered. They broke in. She’d packed and left. Not one trace of clothes or things were there.

  This week has been insane. What will next week bring? Will Eden still be in my arms? Will this war with Celina finally be done?

  “I know that everything I’ve told you sounds unbelievable.”

  She tucked a few strands of curls behind her hair. “The thing about you, Jean-Pierre, you’re not the type of guy that pranks. At least that’s not the person that I know.”

  “No. This isn’t a prank. This was the past three years.”

  “That’s why Rafael was testing me by the pool?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s why you were glaring at me, when you first saw me in the brothel?”

  “Well, I wasn’t glaring. I was looking intense.”

  “You looked pissed.”

  “You were in a brothel, and with Belladonna for god-sakes.”

  She grinned, and then it went away. “Is this really my life? This is what’s been going on around me for all this time?”

  “Yes.”

  She rose from her chair. “I don’t know what to say, Jean-Pierre. I don’t know what to do with you or even Aunt Celina. I just. . .”

  “What? Anything.”

  “I just need time to think. I have to sit somewhere on my own and somehow wrap my mind around all of this. I need time.”

  “Of course, Eden. You can have all the time you want. Anywhere. Here or Belladonna. Somewhere in Africa, if you desire. Just don’t go.” My voice went hoarse as I tried my best not to beg to much like the desperate man I’d become. “Just don’t walk away from me yet.”

  She parted her lips.

  “Please don’t, Eden.”

  “I won’t.” Her voice was breathy. I couldn’t tell if she was hopeful or nervous, but either way, I needed to move forward and be there for her.

  I haven’t been the good guy, but I could try to be.

  She walked over to me. Her steps were graceful and light. “I won’t lie to you, Jean-Pierre. I’m embarrassed. I feel stupid and—”

  “No, you have nothing to be embarrassed of.”

&nb
sp; “You’ve watched me masturbate. You watched me drool all over myself.”

  “No.”

  “It was right in the video. There was drool dripping out of my mouth.”

  “I didn’t see it.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I still feel stupid. All of this is going on and I’m just walking along like an idiot—”

  “No, your aunt and I are pros—”

  “Still.”

  I sighed. “I understand.”

  What could I do? She had the right to feel anyway she wanted to with such shocking news thrown to her. I wouldn’t argue her feelings, but I would try to soothe them.

  “What can I do?” I asked. “Do you want to go back home?”

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t. If that’s okay with you. It no longer feels like my place. I’ll have to tell my roommate Leo too.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “I can set up a place here. Or if you want to—”

  “No. I should figure out what I’m going to do, and then decide where I’m going to live from there.”

  “Okay.” I struggled with not pushing her further.

  In many ways, she’d been violated.

  She would want control.

  But I could give her the world.

  She raised her eyebrows. “So, this was never a girlfriend experience?”

  Embarrassment flushed my face. I hadn’t blushed in a decade. “No. I usually don’t need to pay a woman to be my girlfriend.”

  “You needed a way to get me alone.”

  “Yes, and to at least give you some time to learn about me, before I told you how much of a creepy person I was.”

  She gave a smile at my bad attempt at a joke.

  “However, Eden, the money is yours. The suite where your things are is paid up for two months.” I moved closer to her but didn’t touch her. “Your aunt had a right to protect her niece. But she never understood who I was. She didn’t believe that I would take care of you, better than I would take care of myself. Give me time to show you, Eden.”

  “So, this extension will be about us getting to know each other?”

  “Yes.”

  A look of uncertainty passed over her face.

  What have I done? Have I lost her already?

  Silence filled the space.

  Our food had gone cold. Neither one of us had touched it. I knew the staff was waiting off in the Louvre somewhere for us to leave. By now it was the middle of the night, they would want everything cleaned up to have the museum ready for the tourists in morning.

  Finally, she spoke. “I want to go back to the suite and think about everything. And I should talk to my aunt. Regardless of anything that happens between us, she has to stop this.”

  “Okay. I’ll give you time. Take as much as you need. Louis will stay in the suite next to you just in case you need anything.” I extended my hand, unsure if she would take it.

  To my relief, she did and squeezed her fingers around mine. “Thank you for giving me time alone to think.”

  “I will always give you anything that you want. Remember that, Eden.”

  “I will.”

  Together, we walked out of the museum’s wing.

  And my heart dangled on a weak string, unsure if it would fall to its descent. Of course Eden needed time to think. I’d just told her that parts of her life was a lie. That at least twenty people watched private parts of her life daily and reported to others. That was a lot for anyone to swallow down.

  And a good dose of sex would not help her forget that I’d tortured men to get to her. No matter how I tried to make the murders appear romantic, there would still be blood. And the stink of death.

  We left the Louvre an hour later.

  I dropped her off at her suite. Giorgio booked another room for me on a lower floor. While I had places all throughout Paris, I couldn’t be too far away from Eden anymore. The past days of our break had hurt me more than the gunshot wound.

  Now I must give her time.

  The first day went by. I didn’t sleep. I barely ate. Rafael hadn’t called. He was still racing around the planet and searching for Shalimar.

  The second day, I walked up to her floor like a psycho and stood there for too long. Louis later came by and advised me that it looked a bit creepy. I finished the day in my room, sulking, and full of rage.

  What if I lost her?

  Both days, Eden hadn’t left her room. Louis checked on her three times a day as the staff brought her meals.

  On the third day, I snuck back up to the floor and stood by her door. No sound came from the room.

  I’d become a fool in love, more now, than when I’d gone to war for Eden’s heart.

  I hadn’t been able to think straight. Forget working. Forget the Corsican. Forget the Russians.

  I should be making love to her. Why did I tell her?

  But my gut said I’d done the right thing.

  Fuck this. I’ve given her time. Now I give her my time.

  I wasn’t ready to leave this to chance, so I picked up the phone. “Louis?”

  “Yes.”

  “I need your help.”

  Chapter 34

  Swing Low, Sweet Chariot

  Eden

  My mind and world had been thrown off its axis. Jean-Pierre had murdered people in my name. Aunt Celina did too. Three years of war. Russians and French Mafia. They’d both built human walls around me. They’d both crept around in the shadows, telling themselves that it was all for me.

  What part was? And what part says that I should run from the both of them?

  Their actions scared me. But in a dark way, it made me feel safe and loved.

  Regardless, it all has to end.

  I’d spent the last three days trying to get in touch with Aunt Celina. She never answered. I left messages each time, telling her that we needed to talk and that I knew everything.

  Is she okay?

  Besides talking to Aunt Celina, I didn’t know what to do. I loved her. She’d been like a second mother to me when mine passed. There’d never been a time when I couldn’t go to her.

  “She destroyed the Belladonna Symphony. . .”

  My mind spun with all of Jean-Pierre’s confessions. Rage and hurt mingled with broken love. Aunt Celina had thrown a charity event and made a big show of trying to save it.

  There’s no way Jean-Pierre is lying. He had the freaking footage of my apartment. If she could secretly put cameras in my home and never tell me, I could see her doing more.

  And what of Jean-Pierre?

  If I continued to get to know him, Aunt Celina would have to stand down. This was my life. No one would tell me who I would and wouldn’t date.

  Even if I’m thinking about dating The Butcher.

  Could I date him?

  That was what I sat in my room thinking about. The girlfriend experience had been easy to slip into character. It was playing pretend for a short time.

  Jean-Pierre had gone to war for me.

  If I said yes to him now, I would be walking into more than just a simple relationship. There’d be no walking away. Before I knew all of this, I would’ve been happy to offer more than a financial arrangement.

  But the death? The spying? The power that has been thrown around by both of them.

  I was just a violinist. I ate cheesecake when I had extra for dessert. I practiced most Saturday nights, when others went out. I didn’t have people that I moved around the globe, battling enemies here and there.

  What the hell did he see in me all these years?

  I tried my best to think it through fast. Each time I woke up in the morning, I said I would go to him with a final answer. By the end of the day, I was shocked that the time had flown by and I still sat there staring out at Paris, feeling this surreal darkness around me.

  I’d asked, when we were in the Louvre. “When you hacked into my aunt’s security cameras, how much would you watch me?”

  “Regardless of the time difference, I tried to wake up with
you in the morning and go to sleep with you at night.”

  I had opened my mouth in shock. “So, you’ve seen the elephant onesie?”

  “Yes, and the giraffe one.”

  Jean-Pierre knew everything about me, and I still was just learning him. He had a three year start, and I was lost more than I’d ever been before.

  Stunned, I asked. “You gave me Vibrato?”

  “I did. I heard a phone conversation with your father that you were lonely and considering getting a cat.”

  Parts of my life that I thought I knew were not true at all. Jean-Pierre and Aunt Celina knew more about my past years than I.

  This can’t happen anymore. I need my own privacy. I need my own moments to wear a stained elephant onesie and no one is watching me.

  What was the clear direction in dealing with something like this? I pondered that on the third day, knowing that I couldn’t let Jean-Pierre wait anymore. Regardless of what he’d done, it had never hurt me.

  Others had died.

  Many had perished.

  The whole time I’d been protected by both Aunt Celina and him.

  For that fact, I could not justify huge amounts of anger for me.

  “You’ve been my obsession for three years.”

  His confession hung in the air.

  I’d wanted him to crave me. I’d relished in fantasies of him loving me. But I never knew that his attention would be beyond my comprehension. That his love might hurt in some ways. It might make me rethink what love and reality really was.

  Could I do that?

  I studied the Eiffel Tower off in the distance.

  “How many have you killed in my name?”

  “Hundreds.”

  That was what really had kept me in my room. I knew he had power. I didn’t know that it moved deep within his blood. While I thought he’d helped Rafael, maybe even had a higher position than most thought, he was the head of the Corsican.

  Could I date him? Could we move forward from all of this?

  I didn’t know the men who’d tried to battle Jean-Pierre and his men, but I attempted to imagine them in my mind.

  All these people had died for what? For me to just get scared and run away?

  At the bare minimum, I had to give this a chance.

  You’re coming up with excuses. You’re trying to make yourself feel better about choosing him over your aunt.