Monsters of Manhattan

Chapter Twenty: Kissing in Paris

“Arrêter que!” an elder woman shrieked as French teenagers threw around a hacky sack outside the steps of Norte Dame. The troublemaking teens laughed before running off as the senior rushed as fast as she could towards security. 

“Funny how all adolescents act the same in different cultures,” a soft voice muttered behind the thick church pillar I was standing in front of. I immediately held tight to my Chanel purse and took a step towards the gathering tourist crowd entering the famous church.

“Didn’t take you as the religion type, my dear.” The voice behind the pillar continued.

I’ve heard of horror stories about young billionaire heiresses being kidnapped and raped without any explanation other than “The rich must pay a price too!” This man concealed by a pillar will not steal my innocence, or what is left of it, if I had anything to say about it.

I sped up my movement and almost caught up with the crowd, when a hand grasped my arm. A scream nearly escaped my mouth, but another hand strategically covered my parted lips. I’m dragged back to the corner I had ran from, and before I can start kicking and punching anything I can touch, four words escape my assaulter’s lips, “I love you, Chelsea.”

Before I can comprehend the words that have been uttered, soft full lips clash against mine and I’m lost in a sea of bliss and confusion. As I regain my self-awareness, I shove my assaulter and take a few steps back nearly stumbling.

“You!” How could he show up hours late! I had waited for him for 2 hours in Paris’ unpredictable weather. Water now soaked my entire attire and he had the audacity to kiss me as a condolence.

“I’m surprised you waited this long,” Logan smirked as he ran his hand through his wet blonde hair. It was longer than the last time I had seen him four months ago, but he still held the same perfect blue eyes and blinding smile. 

I shove him one more time before walking away. I don’t stop when I hear footsteps behind me.

“What did you want me to do, Chelsea?” Logan states. I can hear his breath increasing as he tries to keep up with my pace. Thank you, Cardio.

He sighs. “I would’ve called you, but I was scared Ethan would’ve answered, and after I canceled our meeting at Thoumieux I was sure you would never see or hear from me again.” Seeing that I was not convinced by his idea of an apology, my journey towards a cab is halted as Logan once again firmly grasps my arm.

“Let me go!” I yell. Absolutely not caring if bystanders hear our conversation. I wipe my wet hair out of my face and state the words I should’ve text when I received his message weeks ago: “Never speak to me again. You’re dead to me, Logan. I waited for you at Thoumieux for hours, looked like a complete idiot, and you text me the next day to excuse your behavior, only to have my husband read your message and nearly destroy my marriage!”

“Ethan’s not your husband!” he says through gritted teeth. I smile, knowing I finally have the upper hand. Logan and I have been dancing a love and hate tango for too long. As I sat alone in Thoumieux for hours, I thought about all the consequences that could occur if Logan and I carried out a love affair.

For starters, I would lose the company my mother’s family had taken generations to build.

My father would disown me for disobeying orders, Andrew would never forgive me for engaging in despicable acts with a man he does not approve of, and last but not least, Ethan would be heartbroken.

I mean everything to him. Ever since his accident, which I may or may not have caused, we’ve been close. Our engagement and move to Paris has intensified that relationship. We shared our first real kiss as a married couple on top of the Eiffel Tower. I kept uttering about how every inch of my body was freezing and Ethan kept staring at me without saying much, before he finally leaned in and kissed me.