The Satyr's Curse (The Satyr's Curse Series Book 1)

by Weis, Alexandrea

Jazzmyn shook her head and smiled. It was at times like these she was thankful for all the characters the restaurant had brought into her life. Ever since she could remember, The Sweet Note Bistro had been a sanctuary for her, the one place in the world where she felt surrounded by love. Despite the ups and downs she had endured through the years, the little restaurant and the people who worked inside it were always there for her, no matter what.

  As she shut the door of her office and headed back toward the dining room, Jazzmyn reflected on many of the wonderful individuals she had met because of her father’s restaurant. Then her thoughts once again became preoccupied with the alluring man waiting for her at the bar, and her memories of the past quickly melted away.

  Chapter 3

  When Jazzmyn stepped into the hum of the dining room, she immediately spotted him, sitting on a red leather stool by the bar and holding his usual glass of merlot in his sleek hands. He was very tall, well over six-foot-five, muscular, and dressed in a tailored gray suit that accentuated his powerful physique. He always sported a gold Rolex on his right wrist, and wore the same exotic, woody cologne that reminded Jazzmyn of a forest in spring. His hair was curly and black, encircled his long, angular face, and sat just above his shoulders. Olive-colored skin highlighted the curve of his strong, determined jaw while his short, flat nose appeared as if it had been broken more than once. His forehead jutted out slightly, making his liquid, dark brown eyes almost piecing in their intensity. Jazzmyn figured he had to be in his mid-thirties, and his striking good looks always garnered curious glances from every woman in the restaurant.

  But it was the way he made her feel that intrigued Jazzmyn the most. Whenever he spoke to her, it was as if she were the only person in the crowded dining room, and his every action was made to arouse her interest. His movements always seemed to be so calculated, so precise, and yet the way he caressed his wine glass, walked across the room, or tipped his head thoughtfully to the side made her stomach undulate with excitement.

  Sipping his wine and taking in the restaurant, he reminded Jazzmyn of an ancient Greek statue. He was like Zeus surveying the mortals below Mount Olympus, and delighting in the trivialities of their human existence. It was as if he were studying everyone around him, taking in every detail and putting it away to use at some later meeting.

  When his eyes turned from the diners and discovered her at the kitchen door, he stood from his barstool and smiled. For Jazzmyn, his smile was his best feature. When he smiled his face lit up, and the unsettling darkness in his eyes faded.

  “Hello, Julian,” Jazzmyn said as she approached his side. “I’m glad to see you’re back,” she added, hoping she did not sound too eager.

  “You look wonderful tonight, Jazzmyn,” he said in his deep, dulcet voice.

  Like a man starved of womanly companionship after a long ocean voyage, he hungrily took in every facet of her face. She quickly directed her eyes to the floor as a blush rose in her cheeks.

  “I’ve embarrassed you, forgive me.” Julian put his glass of wine on the bar. “I’m a fool. I should not have announced my feelings in such a manner.”

  Jazzmyn glanced up into his distracting eyes and her nervous stomach did a few cartwheels. “No, it’s just that I’m a little uncomfortable with compliments.”

  Julian tilted his head to the side as he observed her reaction. “Why should a beautiful woman be embarrassed by a compliment?”

  The blush returned to her cheeks with a vengeance. Jazzmyn ran her hand over her forehead and tried to think of something witty to say, but all she could focus on was that the man with the disturbing eyes had called her beautiful.

  “Maybe I’m not comfortable with beautiful,” she admitted as she pushed a stray lock of brown hair back into her ponytail. “Cute, pretty, attractive are more my style, Julian.”

  “That does not speak well of the men in your life, Jazzmyn. Surely some man has called you beautiful in the past.” He edged closer to her. “Were you embarrassed then, or is that something you only do with me?”

  She detected a hint of mischief in his dark eyes. It was almost as if he enjoyed making her uncomfortable. Jazzmyn quickly regained her composure and held her head high.

  “I think you will find most women are taken aback when a man calls them beautiful, especially in a crowded restaurant by a man they hardly know.”

  Julian grinned, showing off his sharp, white teeth. “What if the circumstances were different? Let’s say we were alone and you knew me well…very well. Would you be uncomfortable then?”

  Jazzmyn smiled and placed her hand on her hip, feeling certain that he was toying with her. “You would not be calling me beautiful then, Julian.” She moved closer to him. “You might just be calling me flexible,” she whispered, catching a whiff of his beguiling scent.

  Julian leaned his head back and laughed, a long, melodious chortle that made every woman in the restaurant turn and look his way. His laughter reminded Jazzmyn of music. It was like a warm, haunting melody that reached into the deepest chasms of her soul.

  Julian took his stool once again and picked up his glass of wine from the bar. “You are an intriguing creature, Jazzmyn. You’re not like other women who shy away from my interrogations. You meet my thoughts head on with your own.” He smiled at her over his glass of wine. “You don’t know how refreshing that is to someone like me.” He took a sip from his glass.

  “Perhaps I’m not intimidated by you, Julian, because you’re a customer in my restaurant and your clever banter is best suited for such circumstances. Whereas a woman alone with you in a strange place, and surrounded by people she does not know, might be apprehensive to meet your thoughts ‘head on’ with her own.”

  He shrugged while putting his glass down on the bar. “Safety is an illusion, Jazzmyn. You think you are safe here in your restaurant, but you’re not. You only tell yourself you are, so you can be more at ease with me and with your other customers.”

  Jazzmyn folded her arms across her chest as she noticed how his profound confidence seemed to ooze from his every pore. “You’re a very strange man, Julian. You have been coming here for over three weeks now, having these little verbal sparring sessions with me, learning everything about me and my life, but I know nothing about you.”

  Julian shook his head. “That’s not entirely true. You know that I am not gainfully employed—”

  “But have a hefty family trust fund,” Jazzmyn interrupted.

  He nodded at her. “You know that I’m from New Orleans and have recently—”

  “Returned from a trip abroad, where you spent time traveling across Europe,” Jazzmyn cut in once again. “You’re not married, have a house in the French Quarter, a fondness for jazz music, and a passion for expensive red wine.” She gestured to the bottle of merlot on the bar next to his glass.

  Julian clapped his hands together. “There, see, you know a great deal about me. More than many.”

  Jazzmyn had a seat on the red leather barstool next to him. “But there are a lot of things I don’t know.”

  “You are anxious to learn more about me, I can sense that in you. All right, tonight I am an open book. Ask your questions, Jazzmyn.”

  Jazzmyn’s body itched with curiosity as a flurry of questions circled around in her head. “Every night when you come here, you only drink red wine. You have refused my numerous offers to have something prepared for you from the kitchen. Is there something wrong with my menu?”

  Julian frowned slightly. “Not at all. It seems quite tempting, if I were someone who ate meat, but I am a vegetarian. I also have a sensitive stomach, and I tend to stick with certain foods that I know won’t try my digestive system.”

  “I have some wonderful seared sea bass on the menu tonight. If you’re a vegetarian—”

  Julian silenced her with a wave of his long hand. “I do not eat any animal flesh, even fish.”

  Jazzmyn dipped her head to the side. “A little unnerving for a restaurant owner, but I can accept that.�
� She stared into his dark eyes as she tried to find the slightest glint of sincerity in them. “You never mention family. Do you have any? What about your parents?”

  Julian furrowed his brow, looking more amused than troubled by the question. “My parents passed on a long time ago, and I have no other family left. Oh, there are a few distant cousins floating around in this city and throughout portions of the state, but I have never tried to contact any of them.”

  “Children?” she persisted.

  Julian shook his head. “But one day I hope to be a father.”

  “Well, then maybe you can tell—”

  “I think I’d like to meet the man everyone is talking about,” Kyle announced as he came up to the bar.

  Jazzmyn stood from her stool and looked apprehensively at Kyle. “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen getting the orders out?”

  Kyle waved his hand over the dining room. “Not sure if you have noticed, boss lady, but the customers are beginning to thin and the orders have slowed down quite a bit.” He pointed his thumb at Julian. “That is, unless your friend here has a request?”

  Julian stood from his stool and held out his hand to Kyle. “Julian Armande Devereau,” he stated as he waited for Kyle to shake his hand. “And you are the talented Kyle Baker. Everyone around the city has been singing your culinary praises.”

  Jazzmyn watched worriedly as the two men shook hands.

  “I’ve seen you coming in for the past few weeks,” Kyle began as he eyed Jazzmyn. “You seem quite taken with my boss here.”

  “Kyle,” Jazzmyn chided. “Please.”

  “No.” Julian held up his hand to her. “It’s quite all right, Jazzmyn. I’m sure my continued presence has raised some questions about my intentions among your staff.” Julian turned to Kyle. “I assure you, Mr. Baker, my intentions with Ms. Livaudais are strictly honorable.”

  Kyle folded his arms over his chest and glared at Julian. “Somehow I find that impossible to believe.”

  Julian cocked an eyebrow at Kyle. “Why impossible?”

  “Well, you come in here almost every night and order only wine—red wine—and engage Ms. Livaudais with conversation for most of the evening, but you never order any food. Why is that, Mr. Devereau? Do you not like my cooking, or is there something else you don’t like around here?”

  Jazzmyn turned to her chef, fuming. “Mr. Devereau is a vegetarian and does not eat any animal flesh, even fish. Since almost everything on our menu has some kind of animal in it, I think—”

  “Then how about a nice salad, Mr. Devereau?” Kyle interrupted, ignoring Jazzmyn’s angry stare. “Surely there must be something I can whip up for our most avid patron. French fries, an omelet…or are eggs off the list for you, too?”

  “Kyle!” Jazzmyn raised her voice. “Enough.”

  “No, it’s all right, Jazzmyn,” Julian assured her with a slight grin. “I think I see what Mr. Baker is getting at.”

  “Do you?” Kyle challenged, sticking out his chest like an overzealous adolescent.

  Jazzmyn grabbed Kyle’s arm and turned to Julian. “Excuse us for a moment, Julian.”

  Jazzmyn began pulling Kyle from the dining area and back into the kitchen. When they had passed the safety of the kitchen door, she let go of his arm.

  “What in the hell is the matter with you?” she fumed. “Are you completely deranged, going after a customer like that?”

  Kyle waved his hand at the kitchen door. “Customer? The guy never eats anything when he comes in here, Jazz. He only empties your wine cellar; or have you been too busy flirting with the asshole to even notice how much he drinks?”

  Jazzmyn’s mouth fell open. “I wasn’t flirting, and I will not tolerate you talking about a customer in that manner. For your information, the bottle of wine Julian orders every time he comes in costs damn near a hundred and fifty dollars…a hell of a lot more than three quarters of the dinner receipts we rack up every night.”

  Kyle’s face reddened as he threw his hands in the air. “Jesus Christ, Jazz, are you blind? The guy’s some kind of weirdo hitting on you night after night, for God knows what sick, perverted sexual fantasy he has, and you’re too stupid to see it.”

  “I’m not an idiot, Kyle! I know the man has been flirting with me, but he has never once asked me out, or made any reference to meeting me in some dark alleyway. Just because he happens to be a gentleman, wears tailored suits, and hasn’t tried to get me into bed, you think he is some kind of sexual deviant. Not every man is like you, Kyle. Most men try to get to know me while my clothes are still on.”

  Kyle gawked at her. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean? We knew each other for two years before we slept together. You’re the one who was so uptight that it took two shots of tequila and a bottle of wine to get you to take your clothes off, sweetheart.”

  “You son of a bitch! I didn’t want to sleep with you, and the only way you could get me to go to bed with you was to get me drunk.”

  “The only way any man will ever get you into bed is to get you drunk,” he shot back.

  Jazzmyn was about to rip into Kyle when she noticed a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye. When she turned, she saw the entire kitchen staff eagerly taking in their confrontation. Sitting in a chair behind the desk in the corner of the kitchen was Ms. Helen. She had her elbows propped up on the desk and her head was resting on her hands.

  “Don’t stop,” she urged in her deep voice. “Ya’ll just gettin’ to the good part.”

  Jazzmyn’s cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson as Kyle ran his hands over his face. Muffled sounds of snickering could be heard breaking out around the kitchen.

  “Don’t ya’ll have orders to fill?” Jazzmyn loudly demanded.

  “Now who’s shouting at the staff?” Kyle coolly remarked behind her.

  Jazzmyn spun around to face him. “If you ever bring up that night between us again, or embarrass me in front of a customer once more, I will fire your ass,” she warned in a low voice. “Do I make myself clear?”

  Kyle’s hurt blue eyes glared into hers for several seconds before he turned away.

  Jazzmyn suddenly felt guilty for attacking him, but she knew she could not tolerate his outbursts anymore, especially when it came to her private life. She had been treading a fine line with Kyle for a while. He had become a close friend and a shoulder to rely on, but he was also an employee and could not receive special treatment anymore.

  Kyle slowly nodded his head. “Yeah, I got it, Jazz.”

  Jazzmyn’s heart tugged for him, but she squelched her desire to comfort him. When Jazzmyn glanced over at the desk where Ms. Helen was sitting, she gave the older woman a stern rebuke with her eyes.

  “Feel better ‘bout yourself?” Ms. Helen said across the kitchen. “‘Cause all the boy was tryin’ to do was show you what we all was thinkin’ since that dark spirit walked through our door.”

  “Please, Ms. Helen,” Kyle protested. “Don’t try and help me. It seems Jazzmyn has already made up her mind about which one of us she wants.” He quickly headed back to the prep table.

  Jazzmyn faced the entrance to the dining area and placed a stray brown lock of hair back behind her ear. When she walked through the door, she noticed that a few more tables were empty and only a handful of diners were left. But as she turned to the bar, she saw Julian refilling his wine glass. Jazzmyn walked up to the bar and took the stool next to him.

  “Sorry about that.” She nodded to Scott behind the bar and pointed to the wine glasses stacked in back of him.

  Scott grabbed a wine glass and placed it on the bar before her. Julian took the bottle of merlot in his hand and lifted it over her glass.

  “Your chef seems very passionate,” Julian commented as he filled her glass with the deep burgundy liquid.

  “Passionate?” Jazzmyn lightly chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Passionate about you, I mean,” Julian clarified. “Would I be correct in assuming that I might be
treading on another man’s toes as far as you and your chef are concerned?” He put the bottle down on the bar and looked over to Jazzmyn.

  She picked up her glass. “No, there’s nothing between Kyle and me.”

  Julian skeptically arched one dark eyebrow. “Are you sure? I get the feeling you two are close.”

  “We’re close, but not that close,” Jazzmyn affirmed as she inspected the wine. “He’s my employee and a tad bit possessive, sort of like a big brother, but that’s it.”

  Julian grinned as he picked up his glass from the bar. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

  Jazzmyn glanced up at him. “Really? Why are you glad?”

  Julian tipped his glass against hers. “Because now I know there are no other challengers vying to win your affection. I have you all to myself.”

  Jazzmyn’s heart did a quick summersault as she took a sip from her wine. But then she had to remind herself that Julian Devereau was nothing more than a very good customer; to hope for anything else with the attractive gentleman was simply unrealistic.

  Chapter 4

  At eleven o’clock Jazzmyn escorted the last of the diners out of the restaurant and secured the lock on the entrance door behind them. As she flipped the switch that turned out The Sweet Note Bistro neon sign outside, she smiled. When she had been a little girl, turning off the restaurant sign that hung above the front door had been a special ritual she had shared with her father.

  “This is something only the owner of the establishment must see to, Jazzmyn. It’s bad luck for anyone other than the owner to turn out the lights,” her father had told her on a hot August night not long after opening the doors to his lifelong dream.

  “Good night, Daddy,” she whispered into the darkened dining room.

  The sound of clanking pots from beyond the kitchen doorway snapped her back from the past. She sighed and reached behind her back to rub the kink that had settled there. As she walked past the bar, she spied the red leather stool where Julian had been seated earlier that evening. He had left about an hour before closing, promising to return, but never did. Jazzmyn shrugged off her disappointment, knowing there would be other nights and more encounters with the interesting man. Besides, she was in no rush to get involved with anyone right now. Her restaurant left her little time for a social life, and the idea of beginning a relationship while trying to juggle a seven-day a week eatery seemed a bit daunting. Perhaps down the road she would begin to want something deeper, but at least for now, flirting with the attractive Julian Devereau was enough…or so she hoped.