The Satyr's Curse (The Satyr's Curse Series Book 1) (3 page)

The room was a little bigger than a broom closet, with a desk, two chairs, a small file cabinet, and a bulletin board hanging on the far wall with an assortment of suppliers’ business cards tacked to it. Along the rest of the wall were shelves containing extra pots, storage containers, plates, silverware, tablecloths, candles, napkins, and glasses. Jazzmyn went to the desk, pulled the keys out of the front pocket of her slacks, and opened the locked bottom drawer. She retrieved her brown leather purse from the desk and began hunting for her lipstick.

After she had retouched her makeup and checked her reflection in a compact mirror, Jazzmyn felt ready to go back to the dining room and face him.

“Julian,” she whispered, as she thought back to the first night that he had entered her establishment three weeks before.

“He’s back again, huh?”

Jazzmyn jumped in her chair and turned to see Ms. Helen standing in the door.

“Jesus, Ms. Helen, you scared the crap out of me,” Jazzmyn declared, grabbing at her chest.

“I’m sorry, child. I just came by to get some of Kyle’s crab and shrimp etoufee for me and Reggie.” She nodded back down the hallway. “You gussyin’ up for him?”

Jazzmyn dropped her compact back in her purse. “No, I was just taking a break.” She replaced the brown leather purse in the desk drawer and locked it. “It’s been pretty busy tonight.”

Ms. Helen crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Jazzmyn. “You can’t lie to me, child. I’ve known you since you first came here with your daddy when you were ten years old. I used to babysit you after your momma ran off with that Hollywood actor. I know how you think, Jazzmyn, and you’re thinkin’ ‘bout that man sittin’ out by the bar, aren’t you?”

Jazzmyn placed her keys in her pocket. “Ms. Helen, it’s not what you think.”

Ms. Helen shook her head. “Never is. Usually, it’s a lot worse.” She stepped inside the office doorway. “Look, child, I know you’re sweet on this man, but I’m askin’ you to be careful. He’s too dark to be any good for you.”

“Oh, God, Ms. Helen, please don’t start that again. He’s not a demon, or a witch, or an evil spirit possessing someone.”

Ms. Helen pointed her finger at Jazzmyn. “Don’t you be talkin’ bad ‘bout the magic, girl. My magic’s been keepin’ this place goin’ all these years, and you’d better take—”

“Ms. Helen,” Jazzmyn pleaded, interrupting the older woman’s lecture. “I know you claim to be a powerful voodoo priestess, and whatever you have done to keep Daddy’s restaurant going, I’m grateful, really I am. But please stop running off every man that isn’t Kyle.”

“I’m just tryin’ to show you that Kyle is the man you gonna end up with, ‘cause I’ve seen it in my visions.”

“I know you have told me about your visions in the past.” Jazzmyn clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “And I appreciate them, but please let me find my own man and stop trying to push me and Kyle together. It can’t happen between us. He’s my chef and I’m his boss. Then there is….” Jazzmyn let the words she was thinking die on her lips.

“He drinks ‘cause he can’t have you. Boy’s so blinded by you he can’t see straight. One day you’ll see I’m right ‘bout Kyle. One day soon you gonna see that I’m right ‘bout that dark man out there, too. He’ll be the one you end up runnin’ from. He’s gonna change everythin’ for you, mark my words.”

Jazzmyn walked up to the older woman. “But I need to find that out for myself, Ms. Helen.”

Ms. Helen patted her hand gently against Jazzmyn’s round cheek. “You know, I always thought of you as my little girl. Reggie and me didn’t have kids, and when your daddy brought you here…well, I took to you just like a mother hen takes to a lost chick. You were so lost after your momma up and left. I want to make sure you’re always safe, child.” She let her hand fall from Jazzmyn’s cheek. “That’s all I’m tryin’ to do…protect you from harm.”

Jazzmyn wrapped her arms about Ms. Helen’s thick waist and gently rested her head against her shoulder. “You’ve always been like a mother to me, Ms. Helen.” She pulled away and gazed up into the woman’s warm brown eyes. “But I’m all grown-up now, and you can’t always be there to protect me. I have to fall down flat on my face once in a while.”

Ms. Helen kissed Jazzmyn tenderly on the forehead. “I’m here when you need me, baby. I’ll always be here for you.”

“You best be getting Mr. Reggie’s dinner back to him,” Jazzmyn insisted with a grin. “You know how cranky he gets when it’s late.”

Ms. Helen rolled her eyes. “Lord, have mercy, don’t I know it.” She exited the office and started down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen. 

Jazzmyn shook her head and smiled. It was at times like these she was thankful for all the characters the restaurant had brought into her life. Ever since she could remember, The Sweet Note Bistro had been a sanctuary for her, the one place in the world where she felt surrounded by love. Despite the ups and downs she had endured through the years, the little restaurant and the people who worked inside it were always there for her, no matter what.

As she shut the door of her office and headed back toward the dining room, Jazzmyn reflected on many of the wonderful individuals she had met because of her father’s restaurant. Then her thoughts once again became preoccupied with the alluring man waiting for her at the bar, and her memories of the past quickly melted away. 

Chapter 3

When Jazzmyn stepped into the hum of the dining room, she immediately spotted him, sitting on a red leather stool by the bar and holding his usual glass of merlot in his sleek hands. He was very tall, well over six-foot-five, muscular, and dressed in a tailored gray suit that accentuated his powerful physique. He always sported a gold Rolex on his right wrist, and wore the same exotic, woody cologne that reminded Jazzmyn of a forest in spring. His hair was curly and black, encircled his long, angular face, and sat just above his shoulders. Olive-colored skin highlighted the curve of his strong, determined jaw while his short, flat nose appeared as if it had been broken more than once. His forehead jutted out slightly, making his liquid, dark brown eyes almost piecing in their intensity. Jazzmyn figured he had to be in his mid-thirties, and his striking good looks always garnered curious glances from every woman in the restaurant.

But it was the way he made her feel that intrigued Jazzmyn the most. Whenever he spoke to her, it was as if she were the only person in the crowded dining room, and his every action was made to arouse her interest. His movements always seemed to be so calculated, so precise, and yet the way he caressed his wine glass, walked across the room, or tipped his head thoughtfully to the side made her stomach undulate with excitement.  

Sipping his wine and taking in the restaurant, he reminded Jazzmyn of an ancient Greek statue. He was like Zeus surveying the mortals below Mount Olympus, and delighting in the trivialities of their human existence. It was as if he were studying everyone around him, taking in every detail and putting it away to use at some later meeting.

When his eyes turned from the diners and discovered her at the kitchen door, he stood from his barstool and smiled. For Jazzmyn, his smile was his best feature. When he smiled his face lit up, and the unsettling darkness in his eyes faded.

“Hello, Julian,” Jazzmyn said as she approached his side. “I’m glad to see you’re back,” she added, hoping she did not sound too eager.

“You look wonderful tonight, Jazzmyn,” he said in his deep, dulcet voice.

Like a man starved of womanly companionship after a long ocean voyage, he hungrily took in every facet of her face. She quickly directed her eyes to the floor as a blush rose in her cheeks.

“I’ve embarrassed you, forgive me.” Julian put his glass of wine on the bar. “I’m a fool. I should not have announced my feelings in such a manner.”

Jazzmyn glanced up into his distracting eyes and her nervous stomach did a few cartwheels. “No, it’s just that I’m a little uncomfortable with compliments.”

Julian tilted his head to the side as he observed her reaction. “Why should a beautiful woman be embarrassed by a compliment?”

The blush returned to her cheeks with a vengeance. Jazzmyn ran her hand over her forehead and tried to think of something witty to say, but all she could focus on was that the man with the disturbing eyes had called her beautiful.

“Maybe I’m not comfortable with beautiful,” she admitted as she pushed a stray lock of brown hair back into her ponytail. “Cute, pretty, attractive are more my style, Julian.” 

“That does not speak well of the men in your life, Jazzmyn. Surely some man has called you beautiful in the past.” He edged closer to her. “Were you embarrassed then, or is that something you only do with me?”

She detected a hint of mischief in his dark eyes. It was almost as if he enjoyed making her uncomfortable. Jazzmyn quickly regained her composure and held her head high.

“I think you will find most women are taken aback when a man calls them beautiful, especially in a crowded restaurant by a man they hardly know.”

Julian grinned, showing off his sharp, white teeth. “What if the circumstances were different? Let’s say we were alone and you knew me well…very well. Would you be uncomfortable then?”

Jazzmyn smiled and placed her hand on her hip, feeling certain that he was toying with her. “You would not be calling me beautiful then, Julian.” She moved closer to him. “You might just be calling me flexible,” she whispered, catching a whiff of his beguiling scent.

Julian leaned his head back and laughed, a long, melodious chortle that made every woman in the restaurant turn and look his way. His laughter reminded Jazzmyn of music. It was like a warm, haunting melody that reached into the deepest chasms of her soul.

Julian took his stool once again and picked up his glass of wine from the bar. “You are an intriguing creature, Jazzmyn. You’re not like other women who shy away from my interrogations. You meet my thoughts head on with your own.” He smiled at her over his glass of wine. “You don’t know how refreshing that is to someone like me.” He took a sip from his glass.

“Perhaps I’m not intimidated by you, Julian, because you’re a customer in my restaurant and your clever banter is best suited for such circumstances. Whereas a woman alone with you in a strange place, and surrounded by people she does not know, might be apprehensive to meet your thoughts ‘head on’ with her own.”

He shrugged while putting his glass down on the bar. “Safety is an illusion, Jazzmyn. You think you are safe here in your restaurant, but you’re not. You only tell yourself you are, so you can be more at ease with me and with your other customers.”

Jazzmyn folded her arms across her chest as she noticed how his profound confidence seemed to ooze from his every pore. “You’re a very strange man, Julian. You have been coming here for over three weeks now, having these little verbal sparring sessions with me, learning everything about me and my life, but I know nothing about you.”

Julian shook his head. “That’s not entirely true. You know that I am not gainfully employed—”

“But have a hefty family trust fund,” Jazzmyn interrupted.

He nodded at her. “You know that I’m from New Orleans and have recently—”

“Returned from a trip abroad, where you spent time traveling across Europe,” Jazzmyn cut in once again. “You’re not married, have a house in the French Quarter, a fondness for jazz music, and a passion for expensive red wine.” She gestured to the bottle of merlot on the bar next to his glass. 

Julian clapped his hands together. “There, see, you know a great deal about me. More than many.”

Jazzmyn had a seat on the red leather barstool next to him. “But there are a lot of things I don’t know.”

“You are anxious to learn more about me, I can sense that in you. All right, tonight I am an open book. Ask your questions, Jazzmyn.”

Jazzmyn’s body itched with curiosity as a flurry of questions circled around in her head. “Every night when you come here, you only drink red wine. You have refused my numerous offers to have something prepared for you from the kitchen. Is there something wrong with my menu?”

Julian frowned slightly. “Not at all. It seems quite tempting, if I were someone who ate meat, but I am a vegetarian. I also have a sensitive stomach, and I tend to stick with certain foods that I know won’t try my digestive system.”

“I have some wonderful seared sea bass on the menu tonight. If you’re a vegetarian—”

Julian silenced her with a wave of his long hand. “I do not eat any animal flesh, even fish.”

Jazzmyn dipped her head to the side. “A little unnerving for a restaurant owner, but I can accept that.” She stared into his dark eyes as she tried to find the slightest glint of sincerity in them. “You never mention family. Do you have any? What about your parents?”

Julian furrowed his brow, looking more amused than troubled by the question. “My parents passed on a long time ago, and I have no other family left. Oh, there are a few distant cousins floating around in this city and throughout portions of the state, but I have never tried to contact any of them.”

“Children?” she persisted.

Julian shook his head. “But one day I hope to be a father.”

“Well, then maybe you can tell—”

“I think I’d like to meet the man everyone is talking about,” Kyle announced as he came up to the bar.

Jazzmyn stood from her stool and looked apprehensively at Kyle. “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen getting the orders out?”

Kyle waved his hand over the dining room. “Not sure if you have noticed, boss lady, but the customers are beginning to thin and the orders have slowed down quite a bit.” He pointed his thumb at Julian. “That is, unless your friend here has a request?”

Julian stood from his stool and held out his hand to Kyle. “Julian Armande Devereau,” he stated as he waited for Kyle to shake his hand. “And you are the talented Kyle Baker. Everyone around the city has been singing your culinary praises.”

Jazzmyn watched worriedly as the two men shook hands.

“I’ve seen you coming in for the past few weeks,” Kyle began as he eyed Jazzmyn. “You seem quite taken with my boss here.”

“Kyle,” Jazzmyn chided. “Please.”

“No.” Julian held up his hand to her. “It’s quite all right, Jazzmyn. I’m sure my continued presence has raised some questions about my intentions among your staff.” Julian turned to Kyle. “I assure you, Mr. Baker, my intentions with Ms. Livaudais are strictly honorable.”

Kyle folded his arms over his chest and glared at Julian. “Somehow I find that impossible to believe.”

Julian cocked an eyebrow at Kyle. “Why impossible?”

“Well, you come in here almost every night and order only wine—red wine—and engage Ms. Livaudais with conversation for most of the evening, but you never order any food. Why is that, Mr. Devereau? Do you not like my cooking, or is there something else you don’t like around here?”

Jazzmyn turned to her chef, fuming. “Mr. Devereau is a vegetarian and does not eat any animal flesh, even fish. Since almost everything on our menu has some kind of animal in it, I think—”

“Then how about a nice salad, Mr. Devereau?” Kyle interrupted, ignoring Jazzmyn’s angry stare. “Surely there must be something I can whip up for our most avid patron. French fries, an omelet…or are eggs off the list for you, too?”

“Kyle!” Jazzmyn raised her voice. “Enough.”

“No, it’s all right, Jazzmyn,” Julian assured her with a slight grin. “I think I see what Mr. Baker is getting at.”

“Do you?” Kyle challenged, sticking out his chest like an overzealous adolescent.

Jazzmyn grabbed Kyle’s arm and turned to Julian. “Excuse us for a moment, Julian.”

Jazzmyn began pulling Kyle from the dining area and back into the kitchen. When they had passed the safety of the kitchen door, she let go of his arm.

“What in the hell is the matter with you?” she fumed. “Are you completely deranged, going after a customer like that?”

Kyle waved his hand at the kitchen door. “Customer? The guy never eats anything when he comes in here, Jazz. He only empties your wine cellar; or have you been too busy flirting with the asshole to even notice how much he drinks?”

Jazzmyn’s mouth fell open. “I wasn’t flirting, and I will not tolerate you talking about a customer in that manner. For your information, the bottle of wine Julian orders every time he comes in costs damn near a hundred and fifty dollars…a hell of a lot more than three quarters of the dinner receipts we rack up every night.”

Kyle’s face reddened as he threw his hands in the air. “Jesus Christ, Jazz, are you blind? The guy’s some kind of weirdo hitting on you night after night, for God knows what sick, perverted sexual fantasy he has, and you’re too stupid to see it.”

“I’m not an idiot, Kyle! I know the man has been flirting with me, but he has never once asked me out, or made any reference to meeting me in some dark alleyway. Just because he happens to be a gentleman, wears tailored suits, and hasn’t tried to get me into bed, you think he is some kind of sexual deviant. Not every man is like you, Kyle. Most men try to get to know me while my clothes are still on.”

Kyle gawked at her. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean? We knew each other for two years before we slept together. You’re the one who was so uptight that it took two shots of tequila and a bottle of wine to get you to take your clothes off, sweetheart.”

“You son of a bitch! I didn’t want to sleep with you, and the only way you could get me to go to bed with you was to get me drunk.”

“The only way any man will ever get you into bed is to get you drunk,” he shot back.

Jazzmyn was about to rip into Kyle when she noticed a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye. When she turned, she saw the entire kitchen staff eagerly taking in their confrontation. Sitting in a chair behind the desk in the corner of the kitchen was Ms. Helen. She had her elbows propped up on the desk and her head was resting on her hands.

“Don’t stop,” she urged in her deep voice. “Ya’ll just gettin’ to the good part.”

Jazzmyn’s cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson as Kyle ran his hands over his face. Muffled sounds of snickering could be heard breaking out around the kitchen.

“Don’t ya’ll have orders to fill?” Jazzmyn loudly demanded.

“Now who’s shouting at the staff?” Kyle coolly remarked behind her.

Jazzmyn spun around to face him. “If you ever bring up that night between us again, or embarrass me in front of a customer once more, I will fire your ass,” she warned in a low voice. “Do I make myself clear?”

Kyle’s hurt blue eyes glared into hers for several seconds before he turned away.