Under My Skin: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 2) by Alix Nichols Read Free Book Online Page A

Jeanne. “Are
you OK?” he asked Cécile , his voice
sounding like a stranger’s.
    “I’m fine. Sorry about calling, I was just . . . I had
this bad feeling, like something happened. Are you OK?”
    “I’m fine,” he echoed her words.
    “Are you at your dad’s already?”
    “Not yet. I’m about to leave.”
    “Will you please take a cab?” she pleaded. “You must be a little drunk,
what with all those wines you’ve been sampling.”
    “I will. I promise,” he said.
    He shoved the phone into his pocket and swirled
around. Jeanne was no longer beside him. She stood outside by the entrance , zipping up her parka. She had already
pulled the rolling grilles halfway down. He grabbed his coat and rushed out.
She lowered the grilles completely, locked them, and bolted away before he
could say anything.
    ***

Chapter Four
    January
    It was a gorgeous midwintry morning, the air bristling with an exotic
crispness brought by the northern winds all the way from Greenland. Snow had
fallen all night, dressing Paris in a pretty white coat, all prim and virginal,
as if the world didn’t know better. Christmas decorations still dangled from
the wires strung across the streets, a little sad by daylight but a welcome
illumination as soon as night would fall.
    Jeanne turned away from the window and rubbed her temples. An aspirin was
in order if she was going to make it through the morning shift without dozing
off in the middle of José’s account of his latest rendezvous. She filled a
glass with water and swallowed a pill. It should kick in before the first
customers arrived.
    It had been a rough night. At two in the morning loud voices coming from
Daniela’s loge woke her up. While she fumbled for the light switch and tried to
peel her lids open, Daniela’s angry shouting turned into screams of pain.
Jeanne pulled a fleece on top of her pajamas and ran out. She knocked on
Daniela’s door, louder and louder until the voices inside quieted, and Daniela
opened the door.
    “What’s going on?” Jeanne asked.
    “Nico—that is, my boyfriend showed up drunk. I’m sorry,” Daniela
said.
    She had a blackened eye and a huge bruise on her arm.
    An irate male voice came from inside the loge. ”Who are you talking to?”
Then a burly red-eyed man shoved Daniela aside and stood in the doorway. “Who
are you?”
    “I’m Daniela’s next-door neighbor. And who are you?” Jeanne asked.
    “I’m Daniela’s man. You have a problem with that?”
    Jeanne inhaled. The guy was scary but she refused to show her fear. “I
have a problem with you hitting her.”
    He looked her over, then turned to Daniela and sneered. “Sounds like
you’ve got yourself a friend. Or maybe she’s your special lady friend?” He
glanced at Jeanne. “Not a beauty”—he hiccuped—“but
so”—another hiccup—“hot.”
    Nico narrowed his eyes, trying to focus his gaze on Jeanne. His mouth
fell slightly open and a small stream of drool trickled down his chin.
    Jeanne nearly choked with disgust. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m
calling the police.”
    “Really?” He put his hands on his hips and snickered. “And what will you
tell them—that you heard lovers bickering?”
    “You hit her,” Jeanne said. “I’m not blind. And neither are the cops.”
    Daniela pushed him to the side and pointed at her eye. “This isn’t his
fault. I fell this morning and hurt myself.” She gave Jeanne a pleading look.
“Please don’t call the police. They’ll only add to my problems. Please.”
    Jeanne shook her head in dismay. How did you help someone who refused to
be helped?
    She turned to Nico and said as ominously as she could manage. “I’m going
back to sleep. And I suggest you do the same.” Her gaze fell on his drool again
and she winced. “And if you hurt her once more , I’m calling the cops, whether Daniela wants me to or not.”
    Then she spun around and strode to her apartment, praying he’d do as
instructed.
    Nico