Page 18 of The Devil She Knows
“Hmm.” Coco gave her another assessing look, dark, kohl-lined eyes sweeping over her from head to toe. Sam tugged on the lapels of her blazer and crossed her arms. “It feels like forever since we last spoke. Comment vas-tu?”
Feeling unmoored at the moment and more than a little concerned that her wish had somehow gone awry, but she couldn’t say that, could she?
Actually, Coco, seeing as how I made a deal with a demon named Daphne who may or may not be deranged, the jury’s out. She’s about yea high and dressed in pink—maybe you’ve seen her? She was supposed to grant a wish for me but instead I woke up—well, slammed back to consciousness, really—here. By the way, where exactly are we?
That would go over like a turd in a punch bowl.
No, unless Sam wanted to get carted out of here in a straitjacket, the less she said, the better.
“Ça va. I’m, uh, I’m good.”
“And Glut?”
Okay, so apparently Sam was still working at the restaurant. Good to know something concrete, however small. “Everything is … everything is great at Glut. Just … awesome.”
“You’re too modest.” Coco nudged her arm. “I saw your profile inFood & Wine. What a coup for you, going from commis chef to successful restaurateur in under five years, and now your, how do you say, footprint grows?”
Commis chef towhat, now? “My—my footprint?”
“Oui.” Coco plucked two flutes of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter and handed one to Sam. “The sister restaurant you’re opening in Miami. Qu’est-ce que c’est? Gorge?”
Well butter her butt and call her a biscuit. Samantha Cooper, a freaking restaurateur.
“Right. Gorge.” Sam nodded like none of this was news to her. “It’s been, like you said, quite the, uh, the coup.”
“It really is impressive what you’ve managed to achieve in so brief a time. One might even saytooimpressive?”
There was a forced casualness to her tone that made Sam frown. “You think?”
Coco shrugged a shoulder, studying Sam over the rim of her glass. “Opening a restaurant is a costly endeavor and Miami a costly city. To embark on such an … ambitious venture must require quite the capital, non?”
Unease crept up Sam’s throat and she swallowed it down with a measured sip of brut champagne. She didn’t know where Coco was going with the leading questions, but she didn’t have a good feeling about it. “Like you said, I’m not one to brag, but Glut is … Glut is really thriving.”
She couldn’t exactly reveal the actual source of her windfall without sounding like the cheese had slid off her cracker.
“Félicitations.” Coco tipped her glass at Sam. “Your fiancée must be so proud.”
She coughed, bubbles burning the inside of her nose. “Fiancée?”
Coco’s pencil-thin brows arched. “Hannah?”
Holy shit.It had worked. Her wish had actually worked. She’d thought it might have, what with waking up in a world she didn’t quite recognize in a suit that easily cost more than her rent, but now she knew.
A giddy laugh bubbled up the back of her throat, escapingin a breathless rush. “Of course. Hannah. Have you seen her?”
“Oui. I saw her over by le boulangerie looking for you, actually.”
Sam’s heart beat double time. “And the bakery is—”
“Zut alors.” Coco huffed under her breath. “Really? Now?”
Across the room, two men, security guards by the looks of their plain black suits and Secret Service–style earpieces, conferred with their heads bowed close together, occasionally looking up to throw glances in Coco’s direction. The taller of the two straightened and beckoned her over.
“It seems my attention is needed elsewhere.” Coco took a final sip of her champagne and discarded it on the tray of a passing waiter. “Enjoy the party, and—oh, youpi! Canapés!” Her face brightened as she stared off over Sam’s shoulder. “You have to try one.” She kissed the tips of her fingers. “C’est incroyable.”
Sam turned and—
She must’ve been fucking kidding.
