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

by Kenya Wright

  “Probably.”

  “I wouldn’t do probably, with Jean-Pierre.”

  “You’re scaring me. What are you trying to say?”

  “Jean-Pierre is odd. I just don’t like coincidences with him. Do you remember seeing him before this?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. Then, maybe I’m thinking too deeply about this.” Her phone beeped. She turned it over and read the message. “He agreed. 100k and you can have Belladonna on loan for a year.”

  I jumped up. “Holy shit. Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  Could this be my new reality? Everything would change with the money? But having Belladonna/Eros for a year would ease my anxiety. I would have time to practice and do interviews with other symphonies. It would buy me more time to find a better position. Maybe I would get to borrow the violin longer. Or perhaps, I would get my own.

  Fuck. I can do this. I really can make this happen.

  “Okay. Hold on. We haven’t accepted yet.” Shalimar set the phone on the coffee table. “We have to think about this.”

  “Do we?”

  “I just don’t want your aunt to kill me. I need you to keep me out of this, if she ever finds out. She won’t kill you.”

  “Of course. I’ll say that it was just Jean-Pierre and me.”

  Shalimar still appeared worried. “We’ll have to get Buggy in on this too.”

  “Who’s Buggy?”

  “He used to be the Candy Shop’s head of security. Now he does a little bodyguarding on the side. You should have someone with you. I’m nervous about this.”

  “Okay, so Buggy will be my personal guard?”

  “That comes out of your cut.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “We split it.”

  She nodded. “You always keep your phone on and tell me where you’re at. We check in three times a day.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I walk you through everything. Call me anytime. That’s why I’m getting the commission. I’m your bitch for these thirty days. You want to cry or complain, come to me. Don’t take it to him.”

  “Wait, when is this going to start?”

  Shalimar frowned. “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes. He doesn’t want to wait.”

  “Shit.”

  “Shit is right.” She glanced at her watch. “If you agree, he wants you to shop at Zhalar’s Boutique. You’re to use his account at the store. We have to get you the essentials.”

  “Like what?”

  “You won’t be clothed much, but when you are, it must be sensual and sexy. The fabric has to appeal to his eyes and feel good under his touch. It has to be as soft as your skin.”

  I felt completely lost, but ready to learn.

  She gazed down at my legs and then my crotch. “Are you waxed?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that has to be taken care of.”

  “No. I heard waxing hurts.” I stepped back. “I could snip a little.”

  “You’re waxing that jungle down there.”

  “Some guys like it natural.”

  “Not when they’re paying a 100k, so deal with it.”

  “Fine.” I walked off to the room. “I’m going to get dressed.”

  “And that onesie must not come out in these thirty days.”

  “Of course not.”

  “And you’re a confident woman!” she called after me. “Yes. These men love confidence. They’re paying for you not to be a whiny, little, insecure female, worrying about if they love you or not.”

  I continued to my room.

  She followed. “Exude confidence. You’re not desperate.”

  “Okay. Not desperate.”

  Although I’m taking money for this, but we’ll forget about that part.

  “Walk and act as if you could take or leave it, and his desire to chase you will kick in. You’re confident. Funny. Smart.”

  Am I?

  “You don’t need him, but you definitely want him.”

  “I really do.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “I’m getting into character.”

  She sighed.

  “Everything will be fine, Shalimar.”

  “When you’re with him, hold your shoulders back.” She showed me what she meant. “If you have your shoulders slumped forward, it says you’re insecure.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Such is life. However, if you hold your shoulders back, it says that you dominate the room.”

  I shifted my shoulders.

  She clapped. “Body language is everything.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the stylist and get you waxed too. I’ll help you pack and stay with you until he sends the car to pick you up.”

  My hands shook.

  “This will be easy. You won’t have any regrets.”

  I pushed my flaring nerves away. “No regrets.”

  “And we won’t tell your aunt.”

  “Hell-to-the-no.”

  “Okay. You get dressed, and I’ll tell him that it’s a deal.” She extended her hand to me. “Deal?”

  I gave her my hand. “Deal.”

  “I’m officially your pimp now.”

  “I like Sexual Manager.”

  Chapter 9

  Fuck-Me Eyes

  Eden

  Once Shalimar left, Leo arrived.

  Hauling his cello, he dragged himself through the place and set the case by the closet. Usually when he played, he kept the tattoos covered. Tonight, he wore a fishnet shirt and leather jeans, which revealed the ones on his arms. He’d tied his dreadlocks into a ponytail and hid the purple ones.

  “Where are you coming from?” I asked.

  “I had a studio gig with an indie rapper.” He headed to the kitchen, went to the drawer by the fridge, pulled it out, and grabbed a bag of weed. “We need to reup soon.”

  “That’s an ounce. I just bought it for you.”

  “Exactly, the struggle is real.” He brought out tobacco leaves and commenced to rolling a blunt. “What have you been up to? I’m surprised you’re home tonight.”

  I caught him up on everything—from working at the brothel to Jean-Pierre’s private performance. I didn’t want to tell him about my arrangement, but he was the only one I could trust with the news.

  I can tell him.

  When I explained the deal, he stopped rolling his blunt and stared at me. “You’re going to do what?”

  “Shh.”

  “No one’s in here to hear.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “What are you saying?” He finished rolling and shook his head. “Are you about to start hooking?”

  “Not like on the street—”

  “But the hooking part is right?”

  “It’s for 100k.”

  “What?” He tore the blunt. Crumbled marijuana mixed with tobacco fell to the counter. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t even pick up the herbs. “100k? I knew dude was a sugar daddy. I smelled that shit on the roses. 100k? Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “To do what?”

  “Um.” I shrugged. “He says: the girlfriend experience. And I have… like a…mentor who’s helping me with the deal and preparing—”

  “A pimp?”

  “A friend who knows the business and his type of people. Either way, she’s saying that the girlfriend experience is like being a girlfriend.”

  “And what else? You need to know, Eden. For 100k, you’re doing more than being his girlfriend. He’s going to be hanging your ass up from the ceiling or something, upside down and fucking you in your ear.”

  “Really, Leo? I’m freaking out enough.” I sat down on a bar stool by the counter and picked up his marijuana crumbles. “I’ve thought this through.”

  “So, you agreed to do this?”

  “Yeah.”

  He cocked his head to the
side. “For how long?”

  “Thirty days.”

  “When does it start?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Fuck. He’ll be here?”

  “No. I’ll be with him.”

  “Eden. . .I don’t know.” He shook his head.

  “I’ll have a bodyguard.”

  “Still.”

  “Don’t tell my aunt.”

  “She doesn’t know?”

  “Of course not.”

  “This is going to be fucked up.”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t even put that out in the universe.” I grabbed a tobacco leaf and began to roll a new blunt. “This is going to work. It’s going to be fine.”

  “You’re going to have sex with some guy for money? Shit is that bad right now?”

  “He’s not a bad looking guy.”

  Leo raised his eyebrows. “He’s good-looking?”

  “Very.”

  “No way.”

  “He used to play violin.”

  “What?” Leo undid his ponytail. His dreadlocks fell around his face. “Is he known?”

  I almost told Leo the truth but realized that Jean-Pierre was an escaped convict and probably wouldn’t want everyone knowing. “No, he wasn’t popular at all. He just played as a hobby.”

  “But you would have sex with this guy, even if he wasn’t offering to pay you?”

  “Yes. Definitely. Yes.”

  “That’s good at least.”

  “It is.” I handed him the finished blunt.

  He took that and pulled out his lighter. “This shit still makes me nervous.”

  “Me too.”

  “Call me all the time.”

  “I will.”

  “If shit goes down—”

  “It won’t.”

  “But if it does, Eden, call me.”

  “I will.”

  He lit the blunt, inhaled, and then exhaled smoke. “A hundred thousand dollars?”

  “Yes.”

  He took another puff and passed the blunt to me. “Damn, you’re expensive. I would’ve slept with him for ten thousand.”

  I laughed. “You don’t even know what he looks like.”

  “Still. Money is money.”

  We laughed. Maybe out of nervousness. But most definitely because we were getting high.

  Leo always had a masculine view of sex. Everything was an exchange—money, orgasms, fun, etc. He would’ve prostituted himself to the landlord, if it got us free rent. He’d offered. The landlord blushed and said no but gave us an extension.

  “Shit.” Leo grabbed the blunt from me. “This is going to be a good deal for you in the end. 100k would give you a good year. Just keep your head clear. Don’t be a chick.”

  I rolled my eyes. “A chick?”

  “Keep the romance out of the deal. Fuck him. Don’t make love. Kiss with your lips, not with your heart.” He blew out smoke. “When you have sex, open your legs, but don’t open your soul.”

  I laughed. “Very poetic, but I get the point.”

  “Don’t be a chick.”

  A hundred thousand dollars for a girlfriend experience. This could make or break me. This could be the best thing I’d ever done in my life or the worst. Either way, it would be enough money for me to live off for several months. The anxiety over student loans and bills would disappear. I could get the basics; food, toiletries, sneakers, new music and even check out a movie. I’d been struggling so bad, that I hadn’t taken the time to enjoy the small things in life.

  As if Leo saw my thoughts, he added, “How bad could it be?”

  I didn’t add the part about Jean-Pierre being with the French mafia and being called the Butcher. It was best to keep that quiet.

  But, how bad could it be?

  “I’d have a body guard with me.”

  “Good.” Leo nodded.

  “If there’s something that I don’t want to do, then I’m not going to do it.”

  He blew out smoke. “Have you discussed that with him?”

  “No.”

  “You should, before you start.”

  “Good point.” I swallowed. “Fuck it. You’re right.”

  “You have to take care of yourself. Don’t get lost in some shit that you don’t want to be a part of.”

  “I won’t.”

  “It doesn’t matter how much money you get if you lose your soul.”

  “True.”

  “So, don’t give it to him.” Leo handed the blunt back to me.

  “I promise.” I took the blunt, inhaled, and then exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I won’t give him my soul.”

  “And here’s some advice about men.”

  “Oh wow.” I leaned against the counter. “I’ve got to hear this.”

  “We men are putty in your hands. We’d do just about anything for you, if you bat your eyelashes at us.”

  I bat my lashes. “Like this?”

  “Absolutely not. That looks like you had something in them.” He winked. “Forget your eyelashes. The point is that seduction is about making him want you, not necessarily letting him have you.”

  “O-kay. I’m following.”

  “Right now, he wants you so bad that he’ll pay six figures to have you.” Leo smiled. “But that’s when the games begin.”

  “I should make you my pimp.”

  “How about I be your Seduction Consultant?”

  “Sign me up.” Coughing, I took another hint of the blunt and handed it back to him. “So, you’re saying don’t just have sex with him right off the bat.”

  “It’s interesting that we link seduction with sex, when true seduction is the opposite of sex. You know?”

  “No.”

  “Sex is when desire is met. Seduction is not about the gratification of desire. It’s about the thrill of the desire.”

  “The game,” I said.

  “Yes. Desire coming closer, and closer, and closer.”

  “So, to keep him interested, you maintain that tension of wanting for a long, long time? And what if I end up sleeping with him the first night?”

  “Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t own the pussy. This is why women can seduce a man they’ve never kissed, and later that day, seduce another man that they’ve been with for years. Men are lusty animals.”

  “Tell me more. Tell me more.” I jumped up. “I’m getting wine.”

  “Whether you have sex with him or not, you have to hit him with the sexy eyes.”

  “Okay.” I grabbed a bottle off the counter and brought the wine over with two glasses.

  “Your eyes have to tell him everything about how you’re feeling. That shit is so sexy. Eyes are a woman’s biggest weapon.”

  “So, I’m staring at him…and I’m thinking about how hot he is, and all the things I want to do to him?”

  “Yes.” Leo gave me the blunt and took over pouring us glasses of wine. “And you have pretty eyes, so that’ll work on him. The first time I met you, I considered fucking you for one minute.”

  “But I don’t have a penis.”

  “There’s always that part.” He handed me my glass of wine. “Yeah. That’s lesson number one in this bloody escapade you’re about to get into.”

  “Give him the fuck-me eyes?”

  “Yes.” He cheered my glass. “That’s all I have for now. When you’re talking to him, don’t get nervous. No matter what. You’re always better off looking him directly in the eyes.”

  Sighing, I took a gulp of the wine.

  “You can do it.”

  I nodded and took another sip.

  “Oh, and this gets men too.” He set the glass down, gave me an intense stare for a quiet minute, and then he turned away, looking at something else.

  “What just happened?”

  “That hooks guys all the time. Give him that prolonged eye contact for a good bit of time, and then look away. That’ll make him crazy to get your attention back on him.”

  “This is good.”

  He scratched his head an
d the humor in his face left. “I hope it is good.”

  “It will be, Leo.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I think it will be.”

  “Stay safe, Eden. I’m serious.”

  “I will.”

  He left his side of the counter, walked over to me, and pulled me into a big hug. “I’ve got your back, no matter what. I’ll never judge. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Call me anytime.”

  “I will.”

  The rest of the night went brighter, as Leo and I reminisced on our crazy symphony days.

  He mentioned that he had a few interviews coming up as a musical instructor for a community college in another state. I was excited, but nervous. If he took the job, he would be gone. It was selfish to want to keep him here, but I knew that my getting the money would also be a way to have him remain at the place.

  I could pay rent for both of us.

  The more I sipped wine and smoked with Leo, the more I became confident in the decision I was making with Jean-Pierre. Aunt Celina wouldn’t approve. My dad would probably disown me, and never let me walk into whatever church he decided to build. Bad things could happen because of this deal.

  I might not ever be the same.

  But the more I thought of Jean-Pierre, the more I thought of his story. The more I felt his touch against my hand. And caught the scent of him.

  The more I didn’t care.

  I’d been telling the truth to Leo earlier. I would’ve had sex with Jean-Pierre without the money. The check was just the elegant topping on the cake.

  I’m doing this for the money, but I’m also doing this for me.

  Chapter 10

  Day One

  Eden

  Yesterday, Shalimar and I shopped at Zhalay’s boutique. We spared no expense as we used Jean-Pierre’s card. She assessed every choice I made, dumping the duds and approving the best outfits and lingerie.

  This morning, we stopped by the beauty salon, where I was waxed from head to toe, eyebrows arched, hair shampooed, conditioned, and styled. Nails painted and filed.

  Everywhere I felt silky, soft, and sensual.

  Am I really going to do this?

  We returned to my apartment. She packed. I showered and changed.

  Naked, I stood in the mirror staring back at myself. Did I look like a high-end hooker? Did I have what it took? I tried to invoke an elegant seductress. But on the inside, I felt like a fraud.