23. Rare Flowers in Bloom
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Rare Flowers in Bloom
Sitting on a stool, a cello situated between his legs, Ian gently moved the bow along the strings as his song filled the crowded room.
He watched the gentlemen in business suits, wearing ravenous smiles, as they were wooed by the sparsely dressed women, who talked them out of the money in their pockets.
Though Ian blended in with the walls, his music completed the backdrop that the women needed to satisfy their clients.
He frequented the House of Navine after school.
While his classmates were participating in after-school activities, Ian and his brothers assisted their father in caring for the facilities and keeping the women safe.
The House of Navine, started by his great-great-grandmother, had been passed down through generations, and it was his father’s responsibility to help Ian’s grandmother manage the brothel by handling the back of the house.
While Ian’s mother wasn’t fond of her sons seeing a brothel at such a young age, working there did instill one of the most valued Donovan traits: Discipline .
Though Sophie was forbidden from setting foot in the estate and was dismayed to be restricted from the places her brothers were free to roam.
Ian’s responsibilities included cleaning and escorting the women to and from their rooms. Today, like many other days, he was asked to keep watch and entertain the guests with his music. Ian loved playing at the brothel. Not for the clients, but for the women. It seemed to put them at ease.
It didn’t matter what song he played; they enjoyed it all the same. His eyes darted around the room, watching the women work and paying careful attention to those who showed any discomfort. His father instilled a protocol for every situation: for the women’s safety was a top priority.
While these men saw the women as products, Ian saw them as deities, roaming between the walls of their kingdom. And he was their guard.
The door to the estate swung open, and a large, curvaceous, elderly woman with brown skin and kinky curls, wearing a yellow sundress, entered the room, charging the atmosphere.
Her smile lit up the room as she casually waved at the male clients and tenderly kissed each woman on the cheek.
She paused briefly, watching one of the young women struggle to speak English to a client who seemed frustrated by her thick Mandarin accent.
“Are you dumb?!” the client snapped, causing the young woman to shrink in fear.
“Excuse me,” the elderly woman said, coming to the young woman’s side.
“She is a delicate and beautiful flower, but her first language is not yours. She’s only been in this country for a few years.
Consider yourself lucky to be in her presence.
If you take issue with her, you can find someone else.
But you will not speak to her that way.”
The client looked from the brown-skinned woman, smiling though her tone was firm, to the shy, young Asian woman in her protective embrace. “..sorry…” he muttered.
The elderly woman eyed him skeptically before speaking to the young woman in Mandarin, who nodded and returned to serving her client.
Ian watched the elderly woman approach him, her face brightening again the moment she laid eyes on him. “Cleo,” he smiled.
“My darling Ian,” she said, caressing his cheek. “Your song has made the women happy. What are you playing for us today?”
Ian’s cheeks flushed at her tender touch. “Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major.”
“Ahh. Bach! Your favorite.”
“I can play something else,” Ian said.
Cleo chuckled. “No, no. I need you to do something else for me…” Affectionately running her fingers through his hair, she whispered in Ian’s ear.
Ian’s eyes landed on the young Asian woman and her client as they disappeared up the stairs. “Yes, ma’am,” Ian said, standing to his feet.
“Now remember,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Only if she seems distressed.” Ian nodded. Holding his bow, he walked out of the parlor. Cleo sat at the piano and began playing a happy tune.
Walking up the stairs, Ian heard a melody of moans. Passing several closed doors, he stopped in front of a room that read ‘Lotus Flower.’ Pressing his ear against the door, he heard grunting and whimpering. He quietly opened the door and peeked inside to see the client pinning her to the bed.
It was difficult for Ian to tell what was happening. Sometimes the women played into their clients’ fantasies. But when the young woman spoke in Mandarin again, the client’s fist struck her in the face. Blood leaked from her nose, and tears fell from her eyes as she tried to fight him off.
Copious amounts of blood suddenly splattered her face.
Her eyes widened in shock at the stringed bow lodged in her client’s neck.
His body was violently yanked off the bed before she watched the young Donovan boy rip out the bow, splitting his neck in half.
Her hand slapped over her mouth in horror as two other young boys ran into the room.
“Ian!” Jax snapped angrily. “We just fucking changed the carpet!”
Caleb twisted his mouth at the dead body on the floor before he disappeared and quickly reappeared with a robe.
Ian looked at the trembling woman and spoke to her in Mandarin before she nodded. While Caleb draped the robe over her naked body, Jax inspected her swollen eye before directing her down the hall to the infirmary. “Xièxiè, ? * ” she nodded, taking Caleb’s arm, who escorted her out.
Jax looked at Ian, annoyed. “You used your bow?”
Ian shrugged. “I was thinking on my feet. Can Keith or Jamie clean this up? I want to finish my song for Cleo.”
His jaw shifted, and his pupils dilated. Ian massaged the tension in his hand while watching Deja rush out of the banquet hall.
She was obviously angry with him.
How ironic. Because he was exceptionally angry with her.
Breathing heavily, Deja rushed through the double doors onto the empty balcony, away from the festivities. Wiping her tears, she leaned over the banister and looked down at the garden below.
A flood of emotions overwhelmed her as she tried to pull herself together—a mixture of humiliation, anger, and somehow…
relief. “Murder is not the answer,” she whispered as if trying to convince herself.
Holding the railing, Deja walked along the banister until she arrived at a pond, bordered by a beautiful garden.
She stared at the koi fish. They brought her a sense of peace, complementing the classical music drifting from the banquet.
Hearing the rustling of leaves behind her, she glanced over her shoulder. But she was alone. “Hello?” she called out, but received no response. Deja was getting aggravated with her paranoia. As she turned back towards the pond, she saw a face behind her in the water’s reflection and screamed.
She nearly fell over when Ian grabbed her waist to keep her from falling. “Jeez, Ian! You scared the crap out of me!” she said as he pulled her up.
“Clearly…” Ian looked her over as she tried to hide her face. “Were you… crying?” he asked. Deja exhaled, silently wiping her face. Ian’s face fell dramatically. “...I made you cry…?”
Deja shook her head before Ian grabbed her chin and turned her head so she faced him. His eyes clouded with regret as he looked over her tear-stained face, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. “I’m… I’m sorry…” he said breathlessly. Deja was surprised by the emotion in his voice.
“I’m sorry for making you cry. Not for killing them,” he added.
Deja sighed. “You could have stopped after the first 6 words, Ian,” she muttered. Ian looked her over before handing her a flower with greenish-blue and black petals. “I’ve never seen a plant like this before…” she said.
“It’s a rare flower called the Aetheraeus .
Not grown on this side of the world…” Ian watched her inspect the flower with childlike wonder and bit his lip in subtle self-restraint.
“Rare flowers are invaluable. Delicate. Unique. And they should be handled with great care,” Ian licked his bottom lip. “I consider you a rare flower.”
Deja suddenly looked at Ian. He sharply exhaled and stared into her eyes. “I feel the need to apologize. For killing JP…” he said finally.
Deja averted her gaze. “...Ian…”
“I know it was selfish. Jax feared losing you, but… So did I…”
He tenderly ran his fingers over Deja’s shoulder, tracing the stretchmarks down her arms. “There are few people in my life who keep me tethered to my sanity. You are one of them, Deja Louis. And I will take any and all drastic measures to hold onto that which is good in my life…”
Avoiding Ian’s gaze, Deja held the flower to her nose. “...must that always involve violence?”
Looking at her pensively, Ian wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close until they were inches apart. She looked at him wide-eyed as he swayed with her to the music. “We are creatures of habit. So… yes . ”
Deja shook her head. “Ian-”
“When I was a young boy,” Ian continued. “There was a rather prominent woman in my life. My grandmother on my father’s side… a descendant of Madame Navine.”
Deja looked at him, confused as she listened.
“She ran a very profitable brothel that was passed down from generation to generation. My mother didn’t like us near the brothel, but Madame Navine was my father’s great-grandmother, and he had responsibilities.
So we were there quite often to help with… utilities.”
Deja’s stomach hollowed. A child had no business near a brothel.