Page 9 of All the Devils are Here

There were more people dancing now, and even if I couldn’t do it for a living anymore, it was still the place I felt the safest.

“I’m going to dance,” I said, knocking back the rest of my drink—far too quickly—and turning away from him. The old Meg would enjoy the teasing and the playing hard to get. The new Meg couldn’t handle it.

I didn’t make it all the way to the dance floor before he caught me lightly around the waist and folded us into the growing crowd of dancers. “I’ve upset you.”

“Of course not. I’m just a friend of a friend, Laurent. I don’t have a right to be upset with you. For anything.”

The music was faster than the way we were dancing, but it still somehow matched. I wanted him so much closer than he was, but his hands rested lightly on my hips, and they made me feel better than they should have.

Laurent blew out a breath, like he was giving in to something, and he pulled me closer so he could whisper in my ear and I could hear him over the music. “I came with you because there’s something wrong. Even if you don’t tell me, I can see it in your eyes. I know that look, and I know from experience that it can lead to… unwise decisions.”

I pulled away, but he held me fast. “So you came with me because you think I’m reckless? That I need a fuckingbabysitter?”

Shoving his hands off my body, I turned and headed for the door. I’d already been hesitant about this, and I wasn’t going to stand there and be told I was a loose cannon.

To her credit, the girl at the coat check moved fast, and I was able to get outside before Laurent followed me. The air was much colder now, and I hugged my coat around my body. I should have stayed home and cuddled myself into bed with a book. At least in the books I read there was always a happy ending.

“Meg,” Laurent’s voice followed me along the river. “Meg, wait.”

“No, thank you.”

“Meg,” he swore in French, his accent heavier than I’d heard it in a long time. “I didn’t say it right. That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” I whirled on him, making him skid to a stop. “If you don’t think I’m someone that can’t go to a fucking club by herself, then what did you mean? Because I can—”

He lunged forward and grabbed my arms. “I didn’t want you to bealone.”

The words stopped both of us in our tracks, and Laurent was gasping in air like he’d been running. Though I knew he didn’t need it. The man was made of stone and didn’tneedto breathe. He was worked up.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” he said again, more gently.

“Why not?”

He shook his head and released me, stepping back. “No one should be alone when they’re sad.”

“I’m not sad.”

“Like hell you’re not,” he huffed a laugh.

“Oh, and you know me so well? Better than anyone? Better than Christine?”

The look on his face was one I hadn’t seen before. It was hard. Fierce. The furthest thing from the kind, soft-spoken doctor I knew. He stepped in close—so close I had to look up to see his face. “I know you better than you think.” The words were low and fervent. “And even if I didn’t, I’m a fucking doctor. I know pain when I see it. Sowhat happened?”

“I got fired.” The words cracked out of me, and my voice broke. “Is that what you wanted to hear? The company restructured, and they didn’t want me anymore. I wasn’t good enough. So now I’m here in Paris withnothing. I thought maybe pretending to be who I was before would help, but clearly not. I’m not even good enough for this.”

Hot tears flooded my eyes and I couldn’t hold them back. This time, everything was too close to the surface. I bent over, a hand pressed to my chest because it ached so badly.

I hadn’t really cried about it yet, and not until this exact moment had I realized it. I’d been too busy trying to make sure I didn’t feel it that I hadn’t let myself, and now I was sobbing on the banks of the Seine with a gargoyle who would never want me in the way I wanted him.

Hands lifted me back up and came around me, holding me against his chest. Cool peppermint filled my nose, and it only made me cry harder. Because I was drawn to this man—this monster—in a way I couldn’t control and he didn’t want me.

What I would never say out loud was that I wasn’t even good enough for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, one hand lifting to cradle my head against his chest. “They’re fools, Meg. You are more than good enough. For anything and anyone.”

My sob caught in my throat. He didn’t know how much I wished it were true.

“Does Christine know?”

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