Read Online The Devil's Own Chloe (Bistro La Bohème Series) by Alix Nichols - Free Book Online
Authors: Alix Nichols
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Sparrow’s hand lands on my backside and gives it an eager squeeze. I
begin to scan the space around us to make sure no one familiar is close enough
to witness our antics. Before I turn to check behind me, someone’s huge fist
connects with Sparrow’s face. He flies backward and hits the wall. Slowly, he
slides down to the floor, blood oozing from his nose.
“What
the fuck!” He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and stares at his
aggressor.
So
do I.
It’s
Hugo, looking at me with something wild in his eyes. Something I haven’t seen
there before or even suspected he was capable of.
Something
I cannot bear to watch.
I
avert my gaze to the rest of him. He’s dressed in regular clothes, his
“costume” composed of a striped scarf and a long aquiline nose mask.
I
begin to smile as I figure out he’s Gru from Despicable Me.
Sparrow
mutters another curse. He snuffles, whimpers, and rubs his reddened cheek. But
instead of standing up to confront Hugo, he maintains his reclining position
like a puppy signaling its submission to a bigger dog.
“Why
the hell did you hit me, man?” he asks, wiping his hand on his pants.
“You’ll
live.” Hugo lets out a deep sigh then turns back to me. “Chloe, are you OK?”
“Yeah.
Totally.” I point at Sparrow. “What was that all about?”
“I
saw him… He pawed you.”
Yes,
he did.
And
I let him.
But
I doubt he would dare do it again.
“Tell
you what, boys,” I shift my gaze from Hugo to Sparrow, trying to sound light.
“Why don’t I give you some space so you can… um… sort yourselves out?”
Both
men raise their eyebrows, but I don’t wait around to hear their objections.
Lifting my chin, I march back to the living room and insinuate myself into the
thickest group of dancers.
A
few minutes later, Sparrow stumbles into the room, followed by his assailant.
Hugo
glances at the discomfited pirate with a mix of pity and residual anger in his
eyes.
I
still can’t believe he just punched a man for as little as a risqué hand
placement. The damsel wasn’t screaming for help or even complaining. But her
knight in shining armor didn’t take the time to ascertain that minor detail. He
acted on impulse.
And
here I was thinking I knew Hugo Bonnet like the back of my hand…
At
school, his being bigger than other boys—even the ones older than
him—certainly helped keep him out of brawls since nobody dared attack him
physically. As to the taunts, he just smiled and waved them off like an
annoying fly.
I’ve
never seen him hit anyone. Perhaps what just happened was a blip. It means
nothing and it certainly changes nothing… aside from foiling my convenient
tryst tonight.
I
stay away from Hugo for the rest of the evening and sneak out early without
saying good-bye to anyone except the hostess. As I stride down rue des
Abbesses, I talk to Claire in my mind as I often do when I’m baffled.
It’s
a long conversation, like so many real-life ones we’ve had in my teens. Only in
my imaginary versions, I do all of the talking and Claire just shakes her head.
She doesn’t get a speaking part because I’m really good at anticipating her
arguments and preempting her objections. Not that I’ve ever discussed my little
curse with her,but we’ve talked about enough things for me to know
exactly what Claire would say on this particular matter.
I
hail a taxi on the Boulevard de Clichy and climb in while exposing to Claire
all the excellent reasons why sleeping with Hugo would be a terrible idea.
Before
she opens her mouth to point out there’s no policy or law that prevents an
architect from dating a foreman, I remind her of the other reason.
She
shakes her head.
Oh,
come on, I
say, you know my history.
You
know what I’ve brought upon those who care for me. There’s no way you’d want
this for Hugo. You always liked him and were so vocal about it that Diane turned
your opinion of him into a moniker. When he’d call and she’d pick up the
begin to scan the space around us to make sure no one familiar is close enough
to witness our antics. Before I turn to check behind me, someone’s huge fist
connects with Sparrow’s face. He flies backward and hits the wall. Slowly, he
slides down to the floor, blood oozing from his nose.
“What
the fuck!” He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and stares at his
aggressor.
So
do I.
It’s
Hugo, looking at me with something wild in his eyes. Something I haven’t seen
there before or even suspected he was capable of.
Something
I cannot bear to watch.
I
avert my gaze to the rest of him. He’s dressed in regular clothes, his
“costume” composed of a striped scarf and a long aquiline nose mask.
I
begin to smile as I figure out he’s Gru from Despicable Me.
Sparrow
mutters another curse. He snuffles, whimpers, and rubs his reddened cheek. But
instead of standing up to confront Hugo, he maintains his reclining position
like a puppy signaling its submission to a bigger dog.
“Why
the hell did you hit me, man?” he asks, wiping his hand on his pants.
“You’ll
live.” Hugo lets out a deep sigh then turns back to me. “Chloe, are you OK?”
“Yeah.
Totally.” I point at Sparrow. “What was that all about?”
“I
saw him… He pawed you.”
Yes,
he did.
And
I let him.
But
I doubt he would dare do it again.
“Tell
you what, boys,” I shift my gaze from Hugo to Sparrow, trying to sound light.
“Why don’t I give you some space so you can… um… sort yourselves out?”
Both
men raise their eyebrows, but I don’t wait around to hear their objections.
Lifting my chin, I march back to the living room and insinuate myself into the
thickest group of dancers.
A
few minutes later, Sparrow stumbles into the room, followed by his assailant.
Hugo
glances at the discomfited pirate with a mix of pity and residual anger in his
eyes.
I
still can’t believe he just punched a man for as little as a risqué hand
placement. The damsel wasn’t screaming for help or even complaining. But her
knight in shining armor didn’t take the time to ascertain that minor detail. He
acted on impulse.
And
here I was thinking I knew Hugo Bonnet like the back of my hand…
At
school, his being bigger than other boys—even the ones older than
him—certainly helped keep him out of brawls since nobody dared attack him
physically. As to the taunts, he just smiled and waved them off like an
annoying fly.
I’ve
never seen him hit anyone. Perhaps what just happened was a blip. It means
nothing and it certainly changes nothing… aside from foiling my convenient
tryst tonight.
I
stay away from Hugo for the rest of the evening and sneak out early without
saying good-bye to anyone except the hostess. As I stride down rue des
Abbesses, I talk to Claire in my mind as I often do when I’m baffled.
It’s
a long conversation, like so many real-life ones we’ve had in my teens. Only in
my imaginary versions, I do all of the talking and Claire just shakes her head.
She doesn’t get a speaking part because I’m really good at anticipating her
arguments and preempting her objections. Not that I’ve ever discussed my little
curse with her,but we’ve talked about enough things for me to know
exactly what Claire would say on this particular matter.
I
hail a taxi on the Boulevard de Clichy and climb in while exposing to Claire
all the excellent reasons why sleeping with Hugo would be a terrible idea.
Before
she opens her mouth to point out there’s no policy or law that prevents an
architect from dating a foreman, I remind her of the other reason.
She
shakes her head.
Oh,
come on, I
say, you know my history.
You
know what I’ve brought upon those who care for me. There’s no way you’d want
this for Hugo. You always liked him and were so vocal about it that Diane turned
your opinion of him into a moniker. When he’d call and she’d pick up the
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