“. . .life is beautiful.”
I could barely speak. “Thank you.”
A playful smile hit his face. Those lips were curved just right, and I wondered what was on his mind. That gaze held a devilish gleam as if he was contemplating how to devour me.
My breath caught, and I swore he noticed as his gaze lowered to my throat and he licked his lips again.
In my mind, he came close to me, and I didn’t back away. How crazy was it that already I wanted his arms around me? In that moment, as we gazed in silence, I yearned for his arm to slip around my waist. Already, I craved his warmth.
And although neither of us spoke, no unease came.
Instead, I inhaled him. His scent hit me hard and I couldn’t help but inhale deeper.
He leaned closer to me. “Vous jouez avec le feu et vous ne le savez pas.”
“What did you say?”
His fingers brushed against my cheek as he slipped his hand into my hair.
My pulse pounded violently. I remained transfixed by his eyes.
Slowly, he moved closer and right before our lips touched… he stopped. His dark lashes lowered, and he hesitated. His breath slipped across my lips in a warm rush. “Have you come up with a price?”
“A price?”
Every inch of my body wanted that kiss. I didn’t know what happened. I blinked and looked away. His hands slipped from my body and the cold air made me shiver.
Remember. You’re in a brothel, not some first date. Sex is a commodity here.
I backed away, close to begging for a kiss.
He held my gaze for a moment and a surge of heat passed between us. I wanted to reach out and pull him into my arms.
His voice sounded rough. “I’d pay anything for more.”
“I’m not…offering more.”
“No?”
“No.” Pushing my way out of the lusty fog he’d created, I walked off into the opposite direction and headed to my violin case. Holding Eros would anchor me. There was no need to further discuss it. In fact, I was completely embarrassed. Here I stood in a brothel, having a sensual moment in my mind, while he’d just been trying to get laid by a prostitute. Had he never brought up money, I might’ve begged for a kiss.
And that is why you shouldn’t be up in here, trying to make money. Stick to your hustle game. Violins.
I took Eros out.
Jean-Pierre came closer and stood next to me as I held Eros in both hands. His gaze watched my fingers pluck and tighten the strings. “You want to kiss me, but you don’t want money involved?”
I didn’t respond. What else could I say without sounding stupid?
“I like to deal with money, instead of emotions.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” he asked.
“I’m just here to play the violin.”
“Hmmm.” He gazed at the bow in the case. “How long have you lived in Belladonna?”
“Five years.”
“I’ve been to Belladonna a lot and to the symphony performances too. I have investments there.” He studied Eros. “A very valuable investment. Last week, I came to claim it, but at the last minute I decided to let it remain where it was.”
He pulled the bow out of my case and slipped his fingers along the length. “Do you know what Belladonna means?”
I watched him hold the bow. “Belladonna means beautiful woman.”
“Yes. It’s also the name of a deadly plant. Some call it nightshade.” He walked over to me with the bow, but instead of giving it to me, he took Eros from me like he owned it. “Have you ever seen a belladonna plant?”
“No.” Amazed, I watched him as he held Eros with such exquisite power.
He plucked the A string, twisted the knob, and tried again, delivering a perfect tune that I hadn’t captured the many times I’d used Eros. He continued with the next string and I stepped closer to him, studying the gentle way he touched Eros and gazed at him.
“I’ve been to Belladonna a lot and to the symphony performances too. I had investments there.”
The Belladonna symphony laundered money for the mafia. It made sense that it would be the Corsicans, due to the committee’s French roots. Jean-Pierre might’ve been involved in some of the chaos.
“A very valuable investment. Last week, I came to claim it, but at the last minute I decided to let it remain where it was.”
And then things began to make sense. When he first saw me, he glared at the instrument first. Had he played Eros before? There’d been no discussion of the violin’s history after the heiress died and they found the instrument in the closet. This was a huge leap, but this week had jumped to odd enough to think out the box.
If Jean-Pierre had played Eros for years, and then went into scandal, the committee would’ve kept that part of history quiet. In fact, many benefactors would’ve wiped out the violin’s past all together. It sounded crazy, but I couldn’t hold back my curiosity.