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. We’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.”