The Devil's Own Chloe (Bistro La Bohème Series) (9 page)

Fifteen

Claire
is asleep when I send Hugo on his way and tiptoe upstairs. Fifteen minutes
later, I change into my nightgown in the first-floor guest bedroom that used to
be the room I shared with Diane.

Lionel’s
semi-independent studio on the ground floor has been unoccupied since he
passed. Four years ago, Claire decided to empty it out, refurbish it, and rent
it out. She still hasn’t “gotten around” to doing it.

I
doubt she ever will.

As
I climb into my bed, someone knocks on my window. I pad to it and, after a bit
of struggling with the wonky handle, open it. Hugo is hanging from the iron
railing, flashing me a toothy smile.

I
fold my arms over my chest. “You’re crazy.”

“Can
we debate this inside?” His smile gives way to a grimace as he pulls himself up
a little and adjusts his grip. “Unless you’re curious to see if I’ll scream
when I hit the ground.”

I
step back and let him climb in.

“Phew.”
He closes the window behind him.

His
presence in my bedroom fills my body with a foolhardy joy I can’t suppress.

“You’re
mad,” I say. “Or drunk.”

“I
had only two glasses of wine since I was driving us back.” He gives me an expressive
look. “I’m a responsible person.”

He
shrugs off his jacket and takes a step toward me.

“All
right, then. You aren’t drunk.” I stare at him, my heart beginning to hammer.
“You’re a responsible madman.”

He
inches closer, eyes riveted to my breasts. I follow his gaze. My nipples are
tenting the silk of my nightie in a way that leaves little to the imagination.

When
I look up, my cheeks and ears are flaming. Good thing the light of my night
lamp is so dim.

“
Pichune
,”
he says and encases my face with his hands.

For
the life of me, I can’t send him away.

Just
one more night, I tell myself.

Our
last night together.

He
bends down and kisses me on the lips. His kiss is hungry and immediately deep,
latching onto my welcoming mouth, and his tongue pushes in and strokes mine. I
stand on tiptoe, throw my arms around his neck, and kiss him like there’s no
tomorrow. My body is ready and willing so much that my engorged pelvis aches.

Oh,
and by the way, there really
is
no tomorrow for Hugo and me.

But
I refuse to dwell on it now.

Without
breaking the kiss, he slides a hand down my back, cups my behind, and lifts me
off the ground. I lock my legs around his waist, reveling in how he holds me as
if I’m weightless.

Then,
for a few brief moments, I’m supported by only one sinuous arm while he unzips
his fly. I help him with the condom, and a few seconds later he’s inside me.

I’m
impaled to the hilt, arching and abandoning myself completely to the sweet
ecstasy of this act.

He
begins to pound into me right there in the middle of the room, making my
breasts bob with each thrust. My legs are wrapped around him, and my ass is
supported by his large hands, tight and comfortable, thank you very much. All
my sensations are heightened, building to a fever pitch. Before I know it, I’m
hovering on the edge, and when I climax, I bite my wrist to stop myself from
moaning.

As
always, he allows himself to come only after the quivering in my legs subsides.

“You’ll
sneak out tomorrow morning the way you came in,” I say when we’re finally under
the covers.

His
lips quirk. “Yes, boss.”

I’m
too exhausted to argue. Before I fall asleep, I convince myself his karma is
too good to be cancelled out by a few extra hours with my toxic person. Just
one more night of indulgence. It’s too insignificant compared to the bigger
picture. I’d spent years being close to people before my poison contaminated
them. Hugo reappeared in my life less than a year ago, and things started
heating up between us only two weeks ago.

So,
really, tonight isn’t a big deal.

It
won’t kill him.

*
* *

Sixteen

“You
said in Nîmes you wanted to talk to me about something.” Hugo plants himself in
front of me and hands me my martini.

I
take a small sip. “I did.”

“How
about now?” He smiles even though the expression in his eyes is serious.

Now’s
the perfect time.

“Hmm.”
I study the olive in my glass. “There are too many people here. I can’t even
hear myself speak.”

Coward
.

He
smirks. “I can hear you all right.”

I
give another
hmm
and look around. A well-dressed, cheerful crowd fills
La
Bohème
on this invitation-only night before its public reopening. People
stand in small groups around the front room and bar area. Some sit at the
tables that are pushed to the walls.

Jeanne’s
walls, now that my work here is done.

Since
the party started a couple of hours ago, Hugo and I have received tons of
compliments on the “complete but respectful” makeover we’ve given this place.
Our order book has filled up to the point where I’ve begun to turn people down.
There’s only so much Hugo, René, and I can accomplish in a day, a week, and a
month even if we put in insanely long hours.

Except
René, that is, to whom dinner with his wife and kids is sacred.

I
could hire more hands.

Hugo
could run a team of his own. Now that he has his contractor license, he’s
officially qualified to do it. We could figure out how to handle two projects
at the same time. We could—

Hugo
cocks his head. “So?”

“You
first,” I say. I’m totally
not
stalling.

He
nods. “OK, I’ll go first.”

As
he drops his head to collect his thoughts, Diane storms past us. I wave to her,
but she doesn’t seem to notice. There’s a glint in her eyes and her lips are
pressed together, giving her that familiar air of single-minded resolve. The
one she usually sports just before she does something stupid.

Diane
heads to the bar and picks up a big orange-colored cocktail from a tray and a
large slice of white and pink cream cake.

Weird
. Diane hates cream cakes.

She
marches toward Sebastian Darcy, who’s talking with someone by the wall, and
plants herself in his personal space. He turns to her with a half-polite,
half-inquisitive expression. She throws the contents of her glass at the front
of his white shirt. On impulse, Darcy looks down to examine the stain. And
that’s when Diane smashes her cake on his face.

“What
the fuck!” Darcy glares at her.

A
blob of whipped cream detaches itself from his cheek and falls onto one of his
expensive and impeccably polished shoes.

Someone
giggles.

Darcy
pulls out a handkerchief and wipes his face.

Diane
sneers at him. Then she spins around and walks toward the door.

“Hey,
you, whoever you are!” He barks after her. “I don’t know why you did this, and
I don’t care, but I promise you’ll regret it!”

She
storms out the door without turning back.

Darcy
leaves shortly after.

A
pang of guilt constricts my chest. God knows what a powerful man like Sebastian
Darcy will do to someone who publicly humiliated him. Diane is gutsy and
irreverent, but behind her blasé attitude, she’s a naive small-town girl who
never expects the worst.

Something
tells me his last remark wasn’t an empty threat. And something tells me Diane’s
outburst is related to a past event that’s somehow my fault. I’ll talk to her
tonight.

But
first, I must ensure Hugo’s safety.

I
turn to him. “You were going to say something before we got interrupted by
Diane the Drama Queen.”

He
smiles. “That girl has balls.”

I
spread my arms in a gesture of helplessness.

“So,
yeah.” He clears his throat. “I lied to you.”

“About
what?”

“Well,
technically, it wasn’t a lie.”

“Right.”
I sigh. “So what was your non-lie about?”

“Remember
that deal we made two weeks ago in your kitchen?”

I
nod. “You promised you weren’t going to fall for me.”

“I
promised no such thing.”

“What
do you mean? You said—”

“I
said you shouldn’t presume I’ll fall in love once we’ve had sex.”

“Exactly.
So you lied?”

“No,
I didn’t.”

“You’re
not making any sense, Hugo.”

He
takes my empty martini glass and sets it on the closest table. Then he takes my
hand. “I didn’t lie,
pichune
. I just failed to mention something.”

“What?”

“I
wasn’t going to fall for you
after
sex. I’d already fallen. Since middle
school.”

I
take a moment to process this.

“Why
didn’t you say something back then? You never asked me out, never even held my
hand.”

“I
was shy, remember?”

“Yes,
but still…”

“OK,
if you want the whole truth, it was because of Lionel.”

“What
did Lionel have to do with it?”

“He
took me aside after one of our basketball practices and had the big-brother
talk with me.”

My
eyes widen. “Oh, no.”

“Oh,
yes. I remember every word he said. ‘Chloe’s seen too much loss, and she’s just
beginning to heal. I’m asking you not to try anything. If things turn sour
between the two of you, it may be more than she can handle.’ ”

“Poor
Lionel! He was worried about what his looming death would do to me.”

“I
figured as much. Everyone knew about his illness.”

I
sigh.

“So,
I heeded his advice.” Hugo gives my hand a squeeze. “I was young. I didn’t know
my heart.”

“And
you do now?”

He
nods.

“Well,
too bad,” I say. “Because I’m ending our affair. From now on, we’ll be just
friends and business partners.”

“
Pichune
,
you’re overreacting.”

“No,
I’m not! Lionel was right to warn you not to date me, only he got one crucial
detail wrong. It wasn’t for my sake—it was for yours. Stay away from me,
Hugo, please!”

Something
wet runs down my cheek.

Shit
.

“Chloe,”
he says. “Since you told me about your
Midas touch
, I did some
research.”

I
give him a tired look.

“Listen
to me.” He steps closer. “I’m not sure I can explain this properly, but it’s
called ‘magical thinking.’ ”

I
shrug. “Yeah, I’ve heard about it. But it’s not my case, Hugo. I’m not deluding
myself. There’s too much evidence that my curse is real.”

“What
evidence? Your adoptive parents’ death?”

“Among
other things.”

“It
isn’t
evidence,
Chloe. It’s what triggered your problem. This happens to
grieving children all the time. They start thinking it was their fault.”

I
put my chin up. “It
was
my fault.”

He
smiles softly and shakes his head. “You’re sabotaging your happiness because of
that.”

“Rubbish.
I’m perfectly happy.”

“OK,
fine. Whatever.” His eyes bore into mine. “Now you’re afraid I might be your
next victim, right?”

I
hold his gaze. “You
will
be my next victim if you don’t run while you
can.”

“I
don’t want to run. It’s my life, and I’m OK with taking that risk.” His lips
quirk. “Considering there’s no risk.”

Hugo
Bonnet, you’re a mule.
And
a pain in the neck.

I
speak slowly, articulating every word. “Which part of ‘I’m lethally toxic’
don’t you understand?”

“Every.
Single. Part,” he says, mimicking my cadence.

“Well,
if you don’t care about your life, so be it. But I do, and I’ll do what it
takes to keep you safe.”

“Chloe…”

I
pull my hand from his and shove both hands into the pockets of my pants. “You
can’t force me to be with you.”

“Tell
me something,” The corners of his mouth turn down. “Do you get a kick out of
it?”

“Of
what?”

“Feeling
almighty when in reality you’re being chicken.”

“What
the—”

“You’re
pushing me away because what we have scares the shit out of you.”

I
shake my head. “That’s not what scares me.”

“You’re
right,” he says with a smirk. “My apologies. It’s not the commitment that
scares you, it’s your
evil
superpowers
and what they might do to
me.”

That’s
exactly right!

Only…
it does sound kind of megalomaniacal when he puts it that way.

But
I won’t let him ridicule me into changing my mind.

I
shrug. “Mock me all you want.”

“I’m
not mocking you.”

“And,
believe me, I don’t
enjoy
having superpowers. I’d give anything to get
rid of them!”

“Hey,”
he says with a smile. “I have good news—you don’t have any superpowers.
You’re not an evil goddess of death and suffering. You’re just a human who’s
had a rough start in life… and who needs to address a few issues.”

His
words are so reasonable and convincing. Anything I say in rebuttal will sound
crazy.

Am
I crazy?
Am I
messed up? Do I really have “issues” to address?

I
think I do.

In
fact, I’m almost sure of it.

I’ve
suspected for a while now that I am yet to come to terms with being an adoptee.
All those imaginary arguments with Claire have been my awkward attempts to do
just that. I’ve begun to wonder why I’m so convinced my birth parents are dead.
Perhaps it’s to camouflage a more brutal truth. A truth that makes me feel like
I’m defective beyond repair. Like I’m worthless and undeserving of anything
good, undeserving of love.

The
truth that my birth mom and dad didn’t want me.

Have
I
invented
my Midas touch—my superpowers, as Hugo calls
them—in a misguided attempt to heal myself, to dull the pain of that
truth? In some sick and twisted way, has it been easier to live with being a
monster than a victim? Has it been easier to accept myself as someone who was
cursed rather than rejected?

Suddenly,
it’s all too much to take in.

The
room feels like a sauna, and it’s too hard to breathe.

I
glance at the door. “I need to be by myself now, OK?”

Hugo
doesn’t look convinced.

“Please
stay here and enjoy the party. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Without
waiting for his reply, I push past him and head toward Jeanne. I say a hurried
good-bye to her and Mat and a few other people I know and then rush to the exit
without stopping to button my coat.

Outside,
the night air hits me in the chest, but I’m glad for it. I take a few strides
down rue Cadet in the direction of the
métro
station when I hear steps
behind me.

“Hugo,
I asked you to stay—,” I hiss as I turn around.

Except
it isn’t Hugo.

It’s
Fabien.

“What
are you doing here?” I ask drily.

A
part of me registers with relief that at least I wasn’t being paranoid. He
really
is
stalking me.

He
gives me a humorless smile. “And hello to you, too, Chloe.”

I
fold my arms across my chest.

“To
answer your question,” he says, “I’m giving you one last chance.”

“To
do what?”

“Beg
me to take you back.”

Seriously?
“I’ll do no such thing.”

“Right,”
he says quietly and looks down.

This
was too easy.

He
looks up, his face contorted in anger. “You prefer to sleep around, don’t you?”
His voice is loud now.

“That’s
none of your business.”

“Promiscuity
is your middle name,” he yells. “No,
slut
is your middle name!”

What
a jerk!

My
hand is itching to slap him, but I stop myself. Fabien is almost foaming at the
mouth, his face distorted with rage. Adding oil to the fire may not be a good
idea.

I
move to walk past him, but he grabs my shoulders and shakes me.

“Let
go of me!” I bawl.

The
next second, Hugo shoves him away from me, barking insults and threats. He’s
livid. I’ve never seen him like this before, not even at Manon’s party when he
sent Jack Sparrow flying across the room.