Already, he had me yearning to moan his name, and it had nothing to do with money or fame.
Jean-Pierre stood in the center of the room and faced the small group of men. “Ce soir nous avons une surprise spéciale.”
I assumed he was introducing me to his guests. It didn’t matter what he said. His French did things to my body. Why did he have to be so sexy? Why did we have to have a strong connection to classical music, and violins at that? If I was going to fuck anybody for money, it would be him.
Not that I should.
“And…for how long?”
“Until I get bored.”
I would never want him to get bored. I knew myself that much. I would care too much. I’d throw my entire being into making him happy. Every part of my soul would be his.
I stared at him, knowing the truth of it all.
He would crush me, just like that.
With him, it wouldn’t be about the money. I would want his heart.
Jean-Pierre continued to speak in French and then he gestured to me. Everyone smiled and nodded.
I did to.
And then Jean-Pierre turned my way and hit me with an intense gaze. “Go ahead and play, Ma belle femme.”
I raised my violin and got into position, forcing my head to focus on the music and not the sensual offer from Jean-Pierre.
My mind was barely in the game, but still, Eros sang, taking up most of the slack.
Jean-Pierre sat directly in front of me. One woman leaned against his side and touched his knee. Blond curls outlined a gorgeous face. She was a woman out of a magazine. A seductress. When she smiled, some of the other men stopped talking and looked her way.
Yeah. She definitely practices her smiles. I need this superpower.
And for a few seconds, she grabbed Jean-Pierre’s attention as she sat next to him. A ridiculous surge of jealousy ran through me. While he didn’t touch her back, I didn’t appreciate that she was so close. It was the first time I’d seen him with another woman. Usually, he watched me by himself or surrounded by men.
That’s the other reason why I couldn’t give him the Girlfriend Experience. I would be thinking that I really was his girlfriend.
How much money could soothe a heartbreak? Was there a dollar amount? Because I knew that if I made a deal with him, and it involved sex, I would fall in love, and he would break my heart. And how much money would pick me up from the floor?
I slipped my bow slowly along the strings, loving how he ignored her and focused on my finger placements. When she leaned in and whispered something in his ear, I sped up and he waved her away, upset that he hadn’t predicted my movement.
And deep inside, I felt a jolt of power as if I could control his attention.
Could I? Could I keep him busy, and never bored? Wait. Stop thinking about this.
I had no clue to what was wrong with me. I’d only just learned his name and heard about him. I’d only spoken to him a few times, even though it felt like a lifetime of conversations. It wasn’t like I had any sort of claim on him, even though I desperately wished I did have one.
The blonde next to Jean-Pierre pouted, grabbed his chin, and turned his view to her.
I hated it.
She whispered something. My brain frazzled with envy. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his.
I stumbled on several notes and paused.
Everyone turned to me, including Jean-Pierre and the woman.
Oh shit. What are you doing?!
“Sorry.” I cleared my throat and returned to the song.
Oh my god. Oh my god. You never stop playing. No matter what. Idiot!
Jean-Pierre studied me. No expression covered his face.
What are you thinking?
The blonde grabbed his chin again. He gestured at his men. Two appeared at the end of the couch and signaled for the woman to get up. I tried to look away, but I wondered what was going on.
The blonde appeared pissed. Her voice rose. “But, what did I do?”
The men gestured for her to leave, while Jean-Pierre watched me.
The woman left, and I played my notes with precision.
I didn’t understand the ugly jealousy I’d experienced. I did my best to swallow it down and ignore that moment.
When I began my third song, a dancer entered the room.
I continued to play, and the dancer moved along with the notes. The other men became even more intrigued. I watched her too, trying to work my notes with her tempo.
She clearly understood that I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Tall, she wore nothing but a G-string and heels. Her long auburn hair fell to her waist. I was slowly getting accustomed to seeing nude women all the time. Another entered with dark, black hair and a gold thong.