Page 20 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)

THE TREMé

K athy felt wonderfully renewed when she woke.

Carmelo, of course, slept like the dead beside her.

She tried twice to rouse him gently, but it was the third attempt that finally stirred him—and his response was to pull her closer and make love to her with sleepy passion. Not that she minded in the least.

Intimacy with him had transformed into something addictive and deliciously wicked.

He had guided her to lie on her stomach, his body covering hers as he loved her from behind with slow, deliberate intensity.

Twice she buried her face in the pillow when the sensations became overstimulating, her body responding to his surging cock with an urgency that surprised her.

The weight of him above her, the steady rhythm of his movements that seemed to reach deeper into her very soul—it was all breathtakingly wonderful.

Soon she was on her knees with her head down on the pillow while he was behind her delivering hip thrusts and his surging dick until she cried out for mercy.

When he finally found his release, she discovered her own, their bodies moving together in perfect, synchronized bliss as they collapsed flat to the bed.

Now, after a refreshing bath, she had changed into a cheerful floral summer dress and pinned her hair into a neat ponytail to avoid dealing with the tangles from yesterday's rain.

As she descended the stairs, she heard her Aunt Janey's melodious voice mingling with Willa's bright laughter and the sound of an unfamiliar man speaking.

Not with the hard Sicilian accent of Boanno—this man possessed the smooth, languid drawl of a true New Orleanian.

She stepped off the last stair and made her way to the sun-drenched garden room, where she found Janey and Willa enjoying breakfast with their visitor. The man turned at her approach, and her breath caught—it was the Creole gentleman from the speakeasy.

He was even more striking in the morning light than he had been in the smoky amber glow of the underground club.

He stood gracefully from his chair, revealing a tall, lean frame draped in an impeccably tailored tan linen suit that spoke of both wealth and refined taste.

His crisp white shirt was left casually open at the collar, suggesting a man comfortable with his own sophistication.

His skin was the warm color of café au lait, smooth and unmarked except for the faint lines around his eyes that appeared when he smiled.

Those eyes—a mesmerizing shade of golden honey—seemed to hold secrets and promises.

But it was his hair that truly set him apart: thick waves, the rich color of ground cinnamon, expertly slicked back from his aristocratic features to reveal a broad forehead and sharp cheekbones that could have been carved by a master sculptor.

His full lips curved into a smile that was both charming and slightly dangerous, the kind that had undoubtedly broken hearts across New Orleans.

Everything about him radiated the confidence of money and privilege—from his perfect posture to the way he held his coffee cup with elegant fingers that had never known manual labor.

He was polished perfection, a man who belonged in drawing rooms and private clubs, yet there was something in his gaze that suggested hidden depths beneath the refined surface.

" Bonjour , mademoiselle," he said, his voice carrying the musical cadence of refinement.

"Good morning?" Kathy locked eyes with Janey in surprise, clearly wondering why this man was there.

"I don't believe we were properly introduced last evening. I am Jean-Baptiste, but everyone calls me JB.” He took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. She glanced toward Willa, who was positively glowing like a lustrous pearl in her crisp white summer dress, a delicate magnolia blossom tucked behind her ear. Janey’s ruby red lipstick on her lips.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Kathy."

" Oui , ma chère , I have been told many lovely things about you," he said smoothly, pulling out a chair with fluid grace. " S'il vous pla?t , join us for petit déjeuner ."

Kathy sat and studied him carefully. He was undeniably handsome, carried himself with impeccable manners, and wore an expensive cologne that spoke of European sophistication.

Yet something about him set her teeth on edge.

She hadn't forgotten the sharp look he'd given her when she'd interrupted his pursuit of Willa the night before—a flash of cold displeasure that had revealed something calculating beneath his charming exterior.

There was an air of entitled arrogance about Jean-Baptiste that made her instinctively distrust him, no matter how perfectly he played the role of gentleman suitor.

"JB arrived this morning to ask permission to take Willa to Café du Monde," Janey explained with a knowing smile.

JB gave Kathy a polite but measured nod.

" Bien s?r , it is segregated, but certain established families have.

.. arrangements . I could ensure she and I enjoy some beignets and café au lait without difficulty.

Then perhaps a stroll through Congo Square—even during the week, there is music and street entertainment. "

"I told him you were her guardian and the decision was yours," Janey said smoothly.

"Please, Kathy! I really want to go," Willa pleaded, her eyes bright with excitement.

Kathy studied JB, who leveled his evergreen-colored eyes on her with unwavering confidence.

Her mind flashed back to her attacker, to the promise Carmelo had made her swear—never let a man hurt her unpunished.

Then she looked at sweet Willa, so naive and hungry for attention.

There was something smugly entitled about the man before her, and she trusted her instincts completely.

"I'll speak to Carmelo. Willa will not go anywhere without both of us accompanying you to chaperone.”

"Kathy!" Willa protested indignantly.

"I'm sure he'll agree. Come back in two hours and we'll be ready for our adventure ," Kathy said firmly.

The confident smile on Jean-Baptiste's face dimmed noticeably.

He gave Kathy a curt nod and sipped his freshly squeezed orange juice with deliberate calm.

Kathy glanced up at Pinkie, who stood quietly in the corner—there was clear approval in the young woman's expression.

No matter how much Willa pouted, she knew she'd made the right choice.

" Très bien , I shall return in a few hours," he said, pushing back his chair and glancing toward Janey. " Madame Janey, c'est toujours un plaisir ."

"Nice to see you again, Jean-Baptiste," Janey replied warmly.

" Ma belle Willa, I cannot wait to show you the real Tremé," he said with renewed charm. Elmer appeared to escort him to the door while Pinkie began clearing his place setting.

"Kathy! Why? I don't need a chaperone!" Willa insisted, crossing her arms.

"You do! And I need an explanation, Auntie. Why let that man in here? Who is he really?" Kathy demanded.

Janey's smile turned calculating. "He's a Thibodaux, chère . His great-grandfather owned one of the largest sugar plantations before the Civil War. The family transitioned to sugar refining and distribution after reconstruction. They're among the ten wealthiest Black families in the world."

"Really? A plantation?" Willa frowned. "They owned slaves?"

Janey nodded slowly. "Louisiana is different, ma petite , and so are the Blacks and Creoles here. JB is one of the most sought-after young men in this city. And he has developed quite a taste for pretty girls like you."

Willa's smile brightened, but Kathy's expression darkened. "Well, he won't get a taste that’s for sure.”

Janey gave a light chuckle. " Il sait mieux —he knows better than to hurt my family."

"Did you tell him Willa was your family?" Kathy snapped, growing angrier by the minute.

" Mais non , she's a guest," Janey said dismissively. "You are my family."

"That's what I thought." Kathy turned her stern gaze to Willa. "You want to go?"

"Yes! Yes, I do! He's so handsome and charming. I like him," Willa said dreamily.

"Then here are the rules. We go with Carmelo, and you can let him hold your hand—but that is all.

No kissing, no inappropriate touches. And you will not slip away with him no matter what sweet words he whispers.

You stay with me at all times, Willa. If you don't, I'll have Carmelo do to him what he did to that man behind the speakeasy—the one I told you about last night. "

Janey chuckled knowingly. "Carmine was quite upset about that incident."

"Do you hear me, Willa?"

"Yes, Kathy," Willa said softly, lowering her gaze in submission.

"Can I speak to you, Auntie? Alone!" Kathy pushed back from the table and marched out. Janey dabbed delicately at the corner of her mouth with her linen napkin and rose from her chair with deliberate grace to follow.

Kathy swept into the music room with its magnificent grand piano and began pacing. Janey entered and closed the French doors behind her with a soft click, sealing them in for privacy.

"Why did you let that man near her after what you witnessed last night? Why is everything a source of amusement to you? You act like we're here for your personal entertainment!" Kathy exploded.

Janey's pleasant smile evaporated. "Careful, niece."

"No!" Kathy's voice cracked like a whip. "She is young and sweet and trusting. And he is a predator—you know it! You know it! You act like you're some defender of women, but you're ready to hand her off to any man who knocks on your door with the right pedigree."

Janey took a threatening step toward Kathy, her honey-colored eyes flashing dangerously, but Kathy held her ground with Elliott defiance.

"Did I hand her off? Did I? I gave you the decision.

You could have sent him away ceremoniously, and the matter would have been settled.

Looks to me like you're the one feeding poor Willa to the jackal.”