I studied the others. They had the good sense to remain clothed.
Clowns. Nothing more. It would be a crime to kill them today. Young and stupid. Unaware. Maybe I’ll wait until next week.
Deadly silence rose the steam.
Jean-Pierre cleared his throat and went over to the bench where The Funny One sat but didn’t get too close to his nakedness. He didn’t sit; he just stood there like an idiot.
Finally fed up, I decided to speak. “Is he going to be naked the whole time?”
The Funny One spoke for himself. “Of course. I figured that you don’t get to see a big dick much. So here it is. Take your time and breathe it all in.”
Maybe I won’t until next week to kill them. Tomorrow would be good.
Jean-Pierre took that moment to sit down.
The one they called The Butler sat down at Jean-Pierre’s side and attempted to pass a towel to the one that was naked.
The Funny One shook his head. “No, I’m good.”
The Butler frowned and held on to it.
This is more entertaining than I thought it would be. I will let them live until next week.
“The Corsican.” I pointed at them as I talked to Pavel. “My father used to call them Perfumed Pansies. I didn’t believe it until now.” I raised my head and inhaled. “Yes. Jean-Pierre certainly smells sweet and inviting today. Like a bouquet of flowers. Is that rose or lavender?”
Definitely something floral.
It was as if he’d sprayed bottles and bottles of perfume on before meeting me. I didn’t want to assume, but I couldn’t think of any other reason why he would be drenched in sweet scents. He reeked of sugariness.
“My. My.” I sniffed the air again. “Why, Jean-Pierre smells like a soft and delicate woman.”
Pavel chuckled. The rest of my men followed.
His cousin, The Funny One, muttered under his breath, “You do smell pretty rosy right now.”
Jean-Pierre scowled and turned to me. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here because the sauna has many health benefits, especially for the heart.” I gave him my own scowl. “How’s your heart these days?”
I would love to take it out of your chest and have it beat in my hands. Is it a small or big one, Jean-Pierre?
“Why are you in Paris?” Jean-Pierre asked.
“Because it’s Paris.” I grinned. “This city is a beautiful place to visit. Kings and queens used to walk here.”
“They still do.”
“But not as powerful as the ones in the past.”
“If you plan to be here longer, I can show you the error in your thinking.”
The Butcher has a sharp tongue along with his sharp knives.
“Hmmm. And there we have it.” I rose, enjoying our conversation for the first time. “Jean-Pierre wants a date.”
Pavel smirked.
I took the towel off my head and slung it on the bench.
Let’s see what they’re made of.
Jean-Pierre rose and stood his ground.
The naked one stood too.
Jean-Pierre muttered to him, “Now’s a good time to put on that towel.”
It didn’t appear the man cared.
If he wants to die naked, then let him.
I prowled over to them. “Kings still walk in Paris?”
“Yes,” Jean-Pierre said.
You’re a bold one, Butcher. Very confident.
“Interesting.” I continued to head his way and stopped in front of him. “Impressive. I’m more a fan of gods.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I know how gods feel.” I moved in closer. Only four inches sat between us. His other cousins hurried to rise and came to his side, but I kept my gaze on him. “Are you men always such a close group? I thought you were related.”
Jean-Pierre found no humor in my question. “Bratva and Corsican’s relationship is strained. You know you don’t come to Paris without letting me know.”
The balls on him. My mouse would say he was very balls to the wall.
I scowled. “Is that how France works?” The man said nothing, so I proceeded, “I came here before to talk to you. No one stopped me then.”
“I’m not the same man that I was then.” Jean-Pierre had the nerve to inch closer. “Now you ask for permission before you step into my city.”
My hands itched to be around his neck. Lucky for him, I had bigger threats lurking in the shadows. I was saving my energy for the monkey head man.
I put an edge to my words. “This is your city as much as I’ll let you have it. But I’ll give you the common courtesy that your dick has convinced you that you need.”
There you go, Butcher.
Emily thought I had a problem with handling people. She figured I was too aggressive and disrespectful. Had we not had this monkey head problem to deal with or even the division among my brothers, I might’ve slit Jean-Pierre’s neck right there. But I didn’t need any more problems right now.
If I can be nice to Smirnov, I can be a gentleman among these sweet-smelling men.
I held in my laughter as I backed up a few feet and did a slow bow. Still, it was hard to keep the threat out of my words. “My dear friend Jean-Pierre, I’m in Paris on vacation. I will be here for a few more days. I hope I can walk in your territory freely.”
Not a smart man, Jean-Pierre closed the space, only leaving enough room for a few sheets of paper to slip through us. Not liking it, Pavel and my men got behind me.
Tension mingled with the steam and rose in the air. I hadn’t come to the Russian bathhouse to spill blood. Hadn’t Emily told me I was a bad tourist? I was starting to see her point.
If he raises his hand, I will kill him.
Jean-Pierre smiled instead. “Thank you, Kazimir. Next time, call before you come.”
I growled. “Are we done?”
“No. People were killed in Belladonna.”
What people? Where the hell is Belladonna and why do I care?
I frowned. “People are killed all over.”
“These people meant something to me.”
He’s crazy and a fool.
I walked away. “I don’t know about Belladonna or whoever died. This discussion is over. Go home and play dress up, Jean-Pierre.”
But Jean-Pierre looked to not be going anywhere soon. The man was like an annoying fly, buzzing all around one’s head as they tried to eat. I didn’t want to kill the little bug, so I waved my hand to swoosh it away. Still, the fly remained buzzing in my ear and landing on my food.
I gritted my teeth. “Spray your fucking perfume in the air and twirl. I gave you more respect than you deserve today, and that’s only because I’m in a good mood. Don’t fuck with my peace.”
I am on vacation!
Jean-Pierre raised his eyebrows. “Who killed the people in Belladonna and why?”
This must be the city where Celina lived. Uncle Igor’s mistress. Wasn’t it in America? Now my uncle is dead and you think you can bring this to me? You do not want this fight, Jean-Pierre.
Pavel gestured behind the pansies as if asking me if I wanted the man’s neck slit.
What an idiot. He has no idea how close he is to dying in here.
I shook my head and turned back to Jean-Pierre. “Belladonna was a pet hobby for my Uncle Igor. He’s gone, as I’m sure you know. I haven’t decided what I will do with that city.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He’s a suicidal fool. I can’t talk to him. I’ll just kill him later before he becomes a nuisance.
I walked back to the bench and put my back to him.
“Did your mouse kill them?”
I paused. Rage, hot and deadly, boiled inside me, shooting through my veins.
My mouse? How dare you even say the name on your tongue? What do you know of my mouse, Jean-Pierre?
I turned to him.
Pavel already had his knife out and at his side. The others appeared ready for a fight. W
e’d have no problem killing the French although no one would want to tussle with the naked one.
Don’t kill them yet.
I had to find out how much he knew about Emily. Who else did he tell? Did all the Corsican know about her? Did the Dragon know as well? Had they been talking too?
Quiet moved through the air as I considered how and where I could torture him.
We would have to knock them out but not kill them. How many of Jean-Pierre’s men are outside? Could we kill them all and then transport the four to another location?
There were many Corsican around in Paris. I had Bratva all over France too, but not in the numbers Jean-Pierre did. It was why he thought his dick was big enough to come my way today.
Hmmm. Perhaps, I take them back to Moscow. Torture him on the plane there. Surely, my mouse would be intrigued. I could let her help.
I studied Jean-Pierre’s face. I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, but my words rose in the steam room. “My mouse is none of your concern!”
“He is, when he may be killing people around me.”
He?
I raised my eyebrows and stared at the idiot for several seconds. Pavel put away the knife. My other men went back to their spots. The tension spilled away.
Or course. He doesn’t know shit. He’s nobody. Why was I ever worried?
I shook my head. “I don’t understand you, Jean-Pierre. Are you suicidal or—”
“I’m not suicidal.”
“Then it’s the alternative?” I leaned in closer than I should have, but I was sure he appreciated it. Surely, he wanted my intimate attention. Smiling, I put my lips close to his ear, letting him know how I found him as comical as I would a forgotten lover.
“You want to fuck me?” I whispered to him, hoping to piss him off. “Did you spray perfume on your cock too?”
He flinched but didn’t move away. “Celina is missing.”
Belladonna? Celina? Why not throw out some more names I don’t know?
I moved away from him. “You say a woman’s name like I should know who that is.”
“Igor’s lover.”
That’s right. Uncle Igor’s mistress. Not even one of the important ones. This is no longer entertaining.
Enraged, I yelled at the hard-hearing fool. “My uncle is dead! Whatever lovers he had are no concern to me. You should go. I don’t have the answers you seek, and you’re definitely not going to get that dance from me you desperately want. Not a hug. Not a fucking caress. And if you mention my mouse again, Jean-Pierre, I will separate your spine from your body and dangle it around that one’s cock.” I gestured to the naked one and then walked back to my bench. “I’m in Paris for a short time.”
“Why?”
“I’m on vacation!”
“That’s a coincidence with everything going on, and I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Neither do I, but sometimes it is just that. A coincidence.” I placed the towel back over my head. “Calm down, Jean-Pierre. Relax. Perhaps, you need to go on vacation too.”
I shut my eyes. I was done with the fools and tired of seeing the funny one naked.
“When do you leave?” Jean-Pierre asked.
I gritted my teeth. “Very fucking soon. It appears the locals are a bit extra this week.”
The one they called the Butler whispered to Jean-Pierre, “So, I think this is a good ending point. He’s on vacation. We can leave.”
I like that one. He’s quiet and clean and knows when to leave.
“Have a good time in Paris, Kazimir.” Jean-Pierre walked away. “Just be very careful. Paris can be a violent city.”
“Not as violent as Moscow,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll leave here without a scratch.”
“That depends on how long you stay.” Jean-Pierre and his cousins left.
The door closed behind them.
Pavel asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“Put people on them.”
“Should we kill him?”
“Yes, but after we leave.”
Emily is dealing with enough. If she got wind of me killing the top members of the Corsican, she would think it was a new war and start gearing up. She’d probably hire a hundred new men.
“Do you want everyone to know that we killed Jean-Pierre and his cousins?” Pavel asked.
“No. There’s no need to make an example to the world. They already know who I am, but Jean-Pierre is sniffing around and wondering about my mouse. It won’t take long for him to have a picture with the name. I see him being even more annoying.”
“I’ll handle it after you leave.”
“Good.” I shifted back into shadowed silence, pushing the annoyance of perfumed pansies out of my head.
It was clear who had paid the driver to lift Emily’s fingerprints. He’d said they were French and Jean-Pierre barging into my steam room made him guilty by default.
My mouse is none of your concern, Jean-Pierre. And trust me, you don’t want to learn who the mouse really is.
I sank deeper within consciousness. Silence. Darkness.
I’m in control. All is safe.
But worry nagged at the back of my head.
Will the Corsican be a problem?
Chapter 16
Emily
I woke up the next day with tender breasts.
It was the oddest feeling. I’d been at the spa the day before and hadn’t done any physical activity besides madly fucking Kazimir. Still, with him, my breasts had never felt so tender.
I didn’t talk to Kazimir about it, scared he would bring up the topic of pregnancy again. Instead, I looked up the symptoms on my phone. Anxiety rose in my core as I read.
Apparently, by the time a woman was at four weeks of pregnancy, I could get a positive result on urine pregnancy test. I’d figured it would need to be longer. What did I know about any of this? My only female friend had been Kennedy and she was now dead.
I spent the rest of the morning reading up on more pregnancy facts. An egg could be fertilized in the last two weeks. Still, the dating for pregnancy began with the start of the last menstrual period.
I sighed and searched on.
If I was pregnant now, it would mean the baby was implanted into my uterine lining. I touched my stomach and wondered. The baby would be a collection of cells called a blastocyst—barely the size of a poppy seed. Even crazier, our child’s characteristics, such as eye color, hair color, sex, and more would already be determined through its chromosomes.
Could it be true? Or am I worrying for nothing?
One of the earliest physical signs was missing my period. It was due to come in two days. I tapped my fingers on the desk and stressed for several minutes before reading further.
The other signs pointed to breast tenderness. From that fact, I came close to passing out. Exhaustion and frequent urination were other signs as well as nausea and food cravings.
Later searching calmed me a little. Apparently, a lot of these symptoms in the fourth week mimicked normal premenstrual symptoms.
Maybe that’s it. I’ve been traveling a lot, eating different things. It may not be pregnancy.
Doubt still lingered. I pushed it down and focused on my new surprise for my lion. I’d loved his face during the hunt—the excitement and shrills of laughter. I’d never seen Kaz enjoy himself so much. I yearned to make him happy some more. I became addicted with it.
The lunar eclipse was this evening. Kazimir had a thing about the moon and stars. I thought it would be a great idea to have us watch the eclipse somewhere cool.
I’d tried to rent out the Paris Observatory, one of the largest astronomical centers in the world. It rested on the Left Bank of the Seine, right in the center of Paris. But the Paris Observatory’s ruling committee wouldn’t give it to me for any amount of money. Nothing could sway them. Even Pavel had stepped in with violent threats. Someone else had rented it out for a date. Apparently, another powerful person in Paris had the idea to watch the eclipse
this evening.
The person must’ve been high on the food chain because the Paris Observatory’s committee was willing to take several bullets from Pavel instead of telling the other renter, no.
I didn’t give up.
I rented out the Eiffel Tower instead. What other place could do for my man? I’d spent the majority of the money Kazimir had given me, but I’d planned to return to Moscow and make my own.
For now, I wanted to spoil him as much as he did me.
I can’t believe I rented out the Eiffel Tower. Who does that?
Pavel had helped, knuckling the price down from six figures to five.
I’d given away more money than I’d ever owned, but Kazimir had a thing about the moon and I loved to spoil him.
That night, we arrived at the Eiffel Tower with no problem. I chose not to bring up my pregnancy research this morning. Ignoring the problem tended to be the temporary solution for now.
Our limo parked at the iconic site. The new driver got out and opened the door. Even though it was my date, Kazimir guided me forward and took me up on the elevator.
The ride proved to be frightening and exciting at the same time. We rose well over a dizzying two hundred meters. I stiffened and did my best to not look down. While I had no problem with being underground, high above ground freaked me out.
Beaming, Kazimir scanned the view. “You rented the big penis?”
“I did.”
“Impressive.”
“You love the moon. You should see it close up.”
“The moon has been my passion for a while.”
His zodiac sign was Cancer, born on July 5. The day after America’s celebration of Independence.
“It’s probably because Cancers are ruled by the moon,” I said.
“The zodiac has it all wrong.”
We stopped at the top level. My heart pumped in my ears. So high above Paris, it was hard not to get nervous, but when the doors opened, all the glass walls of the private room showed a breathtaking panoramic view. All fears fell away.
A woman stood in front of me. Blonde waves teased her shoulders. She wore a stylish knee-length black dress that showed off her curves. She smiled and spoke in French. “Welcome. We’ll be serving you soon.”
Dirty Hearts: The Lion and The Mouse (Book Three) Page 19