Sonata

by Kenya Wright

  She whispered something to him.

  Scowling, he shook his head.

  She rolled her eyes and stormed my way.

  He stomped after her.

  Who the fuck is this, Gwen? Is he bothering you?

  I rose from the table.

  Louis did too, always on point, never knowing what we were getting ready for, but always getting ready. “What’s up?”

  I gestured toward, Gwen. Everyone turned that way. The table went quiet. I watched Gwen and studied the three guys behind her. They were goons far away from home. The biggest guy smiled at me. His teeth were a shiny gold, and each one had sharpened points. He had a gun under his jacket, whether he’d wanted me to know or not.

  In fact, all the men had a weapon on them. I could tell by the swagger in their walk.

  Who are these thugs that you’re hanging with Gwen?

  Louis leaned my way. “They look like nice guys.”

  “They’re with Gwen.”

  “I see.”

  Jean-Pierre tilted his head to the side to get a view. “Oh, them. Those nice chaps won’t start anything this evening.”

  I remained standing, watching her stroll toward me.

  Her gaze hit mine. She bit her lip.

  Hmmm. Don’t hurt that mouth. I want to taste it. Wait. What am I saying? I’m avoiding women.

  But I couldn’t look away or sit back down. A minute later, Gwen walked up to me, filling my space with her fragrance.

  “Good evening, Rafael.” She gave me a soft hug. “It was a nice ceremony. Thanks for helping me get here. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Wrapping my arms around Gwen, I relished in the warmth of her. “Thank you for coming.”

  She left my hold. “Of course. So sorry, again—”

  Shocked, I asked, “Why are you apologizing?”

  She gestured to the guys behind her. “I didn’t want to bring a bunch of people to your party, but I couldn’t avoid it.”

  “It’s fine.” I glanced behind her, as the other men made it to us, glaring at me. “Your friends are my friends.”

  I turned my attention back to her. “As long as they’re your friends? Are they?”

  “Oh, yes.” She gave me a sad smile. “They’re friends and cousins. Trust me. They’re not as bad as they look.”

  The guy with sharp gold teeth had heard the statement and spoke up behind her. “Actually, we are as bad as we look.”

  I grinned. “They’re also very funny.”

  Nervousness dotted her face. “Um. . .thanks. So… I wanted to come by and see how you were doing and say goodbye. I didn’t get a chance to do it at the burial—”

  “Say goodbye?” I scrunched my face in confusion. “What do you mean say goodbye?”

  The tall guy next to her watched me the whole time. His gaze had never left my face. Meanwhile the other men had scanned everyone at the table.

  Trust me, fellas. This isn’t the table to upset. We’ve all been through too much. Even Eden may kick your ass this evening.

  “It’s a family thing.” Gwen looked completely uncomfortable explaining. “My father asked me—nicely—to come home.”

  “Why?”

  She snorted. “I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news, but a lot has been going on in Paris.”

  I stirred.

  “He’s been watching from the States and thinks it’s worse than what it is.” She shrugged. “Either way, he wants me back. My father was already upset I brought Natalie and Benji with me—his only grandchild. Now after the terrorist attacks, bombings, and even the lions all over…I’m saying goodbye.”

  I looked at the men behind her. “He sent friends to come get you?”

  Daddy has men. Ones that have guns. No wonder Natalie and you didn’t flinch the days you helped us.

  “Yes. My dad sent his friends. . . and family.” That discomfort came again. She shook the expression off her face and gave me another hug. “Either way, I’m flying back to Paris tonight. I have barely a week to pack and get us back to New Orleans. You have my phone number if you need to talk. Giorgio has my email, if you ever want to use that.”

  Why does Giorgio have your email? That sneaky bastard.

  I didn’t get a chance to say anything else as she made it over to Eden and chattered with her for a little bit. They hugged for a long time and then Gwen said her goodbyes to everyone else. Giorgio rose for a long hug, but he appeared displeased.

  “Okay, guys.” Gwen waved goodbye. “Don’t lose all your money.”

  “You can’t stay for a little longer?” I asked, not wanting to beg in front of everybody, but damn sure willing.

  “No, I’m sorry, Rafael. My flight back to Paris is in an hour. My bags are already in the car.”

  My heart ached.

  Louis said something funny back, but I didn’t catch it. And then I watched her walk off. The three goons led the way. She followed them. The one guy who walked on her side… he placed his hand at the center of her back.

  So, you two have a history?

  I sneered.

  She moved his hand away and gave them some space.

  But you don’t like this one anymore?

  Giorgio got to my left. “So?”

  “I don’t know.” I looked at Louis. “Do you know anything about her father?”

  “He has some power in New Orleans.” Louis had left the table and hit my right. “Sort of a mid-size boss. Nothing to fear, but not a joke either.”

  What the fuck? When were you going to say something?

  I shook my head. “Well, she said her father asked her to come back.”

  “It makes sense,” Giorgio chimed in. “If my daughter was here this week, I would’ve made sure she came back home too.”

  “True.” I grabbed my jacket. “But I don’t want Gwen to leave France.”

  “Meaning?” Louis quirked his eyebrows.

  “I’m going to stop her.”

  Giorgio smirked. “Gwen’s a good girl. She’s not going to say no to her father.”

  “Then I’m going to New Orleans.”

  “Here we go,” Louis muttered.

  “You don’t have to go.” I headed off.

  Louis got in my way and stopped me. “We’ve finally got Jean-Pierre calm and now you’re going to start something in Paris and maybe even New Orleans? Let her go back and move home.”

  “I’m just checking on her story.” I went around him and left. “She didn’t look happy being around them.”

  “Those guys appeared to have her back.” Louis hurried to me. “You’re going to start shit.”

  “I like Paris and New Orleans.”

  “We’re going to New Orleans or Paris?” Giorgio hit my other side. “This will be fun either way.”

  “You’re not going, Giorgio.” Louis scowled. “Someone has to watch Jean-Pierre.”

  Giorgio shook his head as he got to the stairs. “Once Jean-Pierre gets Eden back in that castle he bought, he’s going to keep her on the land. Did he show you all his plans? They’ll be boring until the baby comes.”

  “You have a point. He’s fucking crazy, flying the whole damn Belladonna symphony out here. It’s just a song.” Louis got behind me. “Anyway, we need to be focused on the Lion.”

  “Fuck Kazimir.” I scanned the space once he made it to the end of the stairs. Gwen had booked it out of the club with her goons. I didn’t see her anywhere. “Damn it. I was hoping to catch her before she left. I think showing up to her apartment in Paris may be crazy.”

  “It will be better than showing up to her childhood home in New Orleans.”

  I winked at him. “We’ll see.”

  “Fuck,” Louis muttered. “I hate when Rafael goes into Romeo mode.”

  “I know,” Giorgio said behind me. “It’s usually excruciating to watch.”

  “What are you doing still here?” Louis argued with Giorgio. “You’re not coming.”

  “I am.”

  Giorgio and Louis
went back and forth as we pushed through the crowd on the first floor. The blues singer walked on the stage. I continued past her, signaled some of my men, and let them know to be ready to leave in the morning.

  I still didn’t know if we would have to fly to Paris or New Orleans later. Surely, I could find a way to convince Gwen before she left.

  Why am I even running after Gwen? Because I don’t want to sit and think about Shalimar.

  I left the club. My cousins continued to argue. They’d both been drinking after all. Cold air brushed against my skin.

  Is this a good idea?

  I shrugged.

  Why not? I just want to make sure that Gwen is okay. That’s it. What else should I do?

  Besides, Gwen would be a perfect, distraction from the pain. I thought about how sexy she looked in that dress, as I headed to the limo.

  She’ll make me forget about having no heart nor even a soul.

  Chapter 31

  Therapy

  Eden

  Five months later

  The bombing had been the Lion’s last message to Jean-Pierre. No peep had come from the Russians for the first month. As long as we lay low, the Lion and mouse laid low.

  The next month passed in a blur of hot sex and passionate moments.

  Life was fun around our castle.

  I’d begun feeling the feathery movements of life within me. At first, our child felt like a butterfly inside of my womb, flying and fluttering around. It was such an odd sensation.

  Everything changed, when my new doctor let Jean-Pierre hear the heartbeat. I had more guards by the morning, more teams of men surrounding the outskirts of the village we lived in.

  And our child grew.

  We planned the baby’s nursery.

  We were going to wait on the baby’s gender, until he or she was born. We both were nervous enough, but Jean-Pierre usually went out of control, and I would have to pull him back a little. It was better that we didn’t know anything yet.

  Already the baby room was two bedrooms. Jean-Pierre had one of the walls knocked down to give our child more space. I wasn’t quite sure how much crawl room a child needed, but ours would have more than enough.

  Next came the decorating. The room had become a massive place of pink and blue furs. Crystal chandeliers and oversized towering teddy bears whose heads touched the ceiling.

  This may scare the baby. These bears definitely scare me.

  His aunts awakened to the excitement too. They all had gifts and chimed in on decorating. After a while, I left Jean-Pierre and his aunts, to the hysteria, and was just happy to be having a healthy child.

  He or she is coming soon.

  Months passed, the whole time my stomach swelled into a bulging belly. And our child grew, the movements became more defined. The baby twisted and turned inside of me, especially when Jean-Pierre spoke near my womb. And he did so exceedingly, reading out little-one books on classical composers.

  Another appointment brought an ultrasound visit., Jean-Pierre held me for a long time. The picture of our healthy child lay between his fingers. The baby had shown no signs of danger.

  We were really doing this. We were having a child. We would be someone’s parents one day. I spent my moments, daydreaming about our future—Jean-Pierre raising our baby in the air and triggering giggles. The three of us together—playing on the beach and vacationing all over the world.

  My belly expanded. And the rest of my body changed too. My breasts became heavier and fuller. My nipples ached. At times, only Jean-Pierre’s mouth could soothe them.

  Sometimes emotions barricaded me, at the oddest times. There was one French commercial that showed an old couple on a porch, looking out at the sun and sipping lemonade. And although the freaking ad was for erectile dysfunction, the damn thing made me cry and cry. Tears always streamed down my cheeks as laughter came too. And my heart would warm and throb.

  Oh, such a pretty couple. I hope his cock gets hard for her. They’re so awesome.

  I was a hormonal mess, yet Jean-Pierre remained my anchor in the storm, keeping me grounded in reality. So I did my all, to show him my gratitude and love.

  And as my ass grew fatter and my hips expanded, and my pussy swelled. I’d thought Jean-Pierre would want to have sex less. But his hands were on me more, as if something happened to a mated pair, when a child was growing between them.

  Was it hormones or pheromones radiating from our skin and luring the other to have sex more? With the hormones bouncing around, I wanted to fuck all the time, and he was happy to oblige, pumping that huge cock in every hole and driving me crazy.

  Beautiful days passed.

  We spent a lot of time on his yacht. It had a large cabin paneled in mahogany. There, we made love everywhere—on the deep, wine-Red carpet, against the dark, blue leather chairs, and especially in the bed.

  How he made me groan? How my voice rose high, through the Venetian blinds and probably soared over the sea?

  We always picnicked at the beach on Sundays. Somehow it had become our tradition. We loved to lounge on a long blanket in each other’s arms, kissing until our lips swelled at the end of the night.

  But those months hadn’t all been calm.

  Although, Jean-Pierre had few workdays.

  Because Louis, Rafael, and Giorgio had rushed off on some adventures in Paris and New Orleans. Montreal and even Senegal. In the past months, they’d all been hopping around. Romance was in the air. Every now and then one called to ask me for advice, but either way, that kept the Corsican’s business at a steady rate. No war or deals.

  In between all of that, horror had still come.

  A package had been delivered to Jean-Pierre last month. On the inside, Aunt Celina’s decapitated head rested in black silk. A crisp card had been pinned to the silk which showed that the present had not been originally given to Jean-Pierre at all.

  The card read.

  Kazimir,

  My apologies.

  A green and gold scaled dragon represented the signature.

  Apparently, the mafia boss in Japan, had tried to make amends with the Lion by killing my aunt. Celina had taken Kazimir’s nuclear weapon codes. While Kazimir had gotten one part of the codes from my kidnapping, I had often wondered, if they found the other codes and her.

  Aunt Celina must’ve tried to sell the other part of the codes to the Dragon. He’d surely changed his mind from participating in the whole ordeal. Perhaps it was because he knew Jean-Pierre saw the Dragon’s part in my kidnapping. Maybe, it was because Kazimir put a hole in Paris.

  Either way, this Dragon had decided to kill Aunt Celina, send Kazimir the head, and hopefully, made amends for his role.

  Such a heartbreaking situation all around.

  When Jean-Pierre told me the news, I didn’t cry. I’d known that something horrible would happen to my aunt. After what she’d done, there would have been no reasonable, happy ending for her. She’d pissed off too many powerful gangsters and only for the goal of money.

  Jean-Pierre held me. “Do you want to hold a service for Aunt Celina?”

  “Give me some time.” I rested my head against his chest. “We’ve. . .we’ve been having such a good time. This pregnancy has been doing well, even considering all the horrible stuff that happened. I just don’t want to. . .”

  “Bring back the sadness and pain again?”

  “Yes.” I sighed. “Did Kazimir send you this head, and why would he do that?”

  “Kazimir didn’t send it.”

  I moved from his chest and looked up. “Then, who sent it?”

  “His mouse.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re friends.”

  That had unsettled me. I didn’t trust either the Lion or the Mouse. I was only loyal to Jean-Pierre. If the person wasn’t Corsican, then they were my enemies. He knew I worried, so he kept me informed of his friendship with the Mouse, which grew and strengthened as the rest of the months continued.

  Jean-Pier
re had men monitoring Emily, seeing the Mouse as the key to taming the Lion. From there, he found that she had her own problems in Moscow. A few members of the Bratva hadn’t been excited about their leader bedding a black woman. Severed monkey heads had been discovered in Emily’s bed and office.

  From that, Jean-Pierre seized the opportunity to form loyalty between the Corsican and Bratva. Jean-Pierre went to Moscow himself to help Emily. Surprising her and everyone else.

  Louis, Rafael, and Giorgio had even met him there in Moscow.

  It had been the most stressful week of my life, but Jean-Pierre had come back unmarked and more powerful than ever.

  He’d smiled, when he embraced me. “We’ll have no problems from the Lion or the Mouse.”

  After that, life flowed around our castle in a peaceful way. I had my guards and staff, when Jean-Pierre had business or therapy. The latter was a recent topic that left me intrigued. He had begun therapy but wouldn’t discuss it. In fact, he was super secretive about it.

  I didn’t know who the doctor was or where he held his sessions. All I knew was that when Jean-Pierre returned from therapy, he looked invigorated and free.

  I had my own team of medical doctors, and of course I’d begun therapy too. I was with some sort of doctor at least three days a week. Either it was for the pregnancy or for healing my psyche. I found it to be too much, but Jean-Pierre wanted to make sure the baby and I were healthy and comfortable during this pregnancy.

  Perhaps, the therapy sessions helped a little. I was able to shovel out all of the crap in my head. I enjoyed the feeling of my mind, being empty when I left the doctor’s office. I didn’t see Uni anymore, although sometimes, I still petted the air out of habit.

  Everything is going great.

  Today, was one of my session days. Usually after one, Jean-Pierre picked me up in the limo and we caught a movie and grabbed some dinner.

  But today ended up being different.

  What’s going on?

  When I left the session and walked outside, my main guard stood next to the limo with a white envelope. He handed it to me. “Mr. Laurent left you a message.”