Bistro 313 Novels & Stories

, he said, and extended his long hand to hold my chin. Hearing his response, my face immediately lit up in a warm yet seductive smile. The van started off and after a while, we arrived at a small, decent-looking bistro called BnB. This was our usual spot for a classy meal. And though I wanted a hotpot, Mason would nag me till the world came for judgment. The van parked, and we headed inside. We were met by the usual classy yet casual exterior of the restaurant. Mason loved extravagance. The place made me feel comfortable too — partially, because it was here with me.

Soon after, they came into a delicate tiny bistro not far from the farmhouse. The street was rather quiet because there were few people at this time of day, but the scenery was lovely and the atmosphere was pleasant. They walked in and sat down. The owners were a couple in their thirties. They looked quite young with a six-year-old son. They were also from Peru but moved here after falling in love with the place. They made a living by running a bistro. The owner, Hannah Morris, was a delightful person who insisted that they just call her Hannah.

I hurry out the bathroom and walk through the tiny restaurant. It's a cute, French bistro with those long tables you find in roadside restaurants. The wooden benches are covered with soft colorful pillows and the walls are overflowed with pictures of regulars and famous people. I think there is not a single spot without a photograph. Spread across the ceiling hang several old wooden cartwheels covered in candles that give the whole bistro a homely feel. I like it. The crackling fire in the fireplace only adding to that feeling. Kian's back is still towards me, but I can sense he has already inhaled my scent. The impatient tension in his broad shoulders evaporates when I stand behind him, my

Maybe as she spent more time with him, things would be different. The restaurant, Bistro Lumière, was an upscale spot with an understated elegance that made it popular among those who preferred sophistication over flash. Its façade was a combination of dark, polished wood and frosted glass windows that allowed only a hint of the warm, ambient lighting within to spill out. A small brass plaque by the door held the restaurant's name in a sleek, minimalist font, illuminated softly from above.

Jace and Kyrell left for their appointment right after finishing their breakfast. The drive took a little over ten minutes before they reached the French bistro in the heart of Riverbend, a thriving and noisy district. The two men were unusually silent, each trapped in his own thoughts until the chauffeur cleared his throat and announced they had arrived. The bistro, one of the Newton family’s many properties in the city, was named Maison Rouge and stood prominently in the lively Parkview Quarter.

And the voice I heard, that it sounded familiar, yet I couldn’t quite place it. “We could meet at the little bistro down the street from the gallery.” He suggested. The bistro was a small cozy place with bright yellow walls and plants hanging on them. Two big windows allowed sunshine through. The tables were little squares of light wood on black table legs. Small crystal vases with yellow lilies in them were displayed. The smell of coffee and fresh bread made anyone feel joyous.

Chapter 29: The Table for Three Jace’s POV The bell above the bistro door gave a soft chime as I stepped inside, letting the warm scent of butter, garlic, and simmering herbs wash over me. Brume Bistro was small but beautiful — a warm amber glow spilling from glass sconces, the quiet hum of French jazz drifting through hidden speakers. Tiny vases of lavender sat on every table, their scent mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread. It was the kind of place meant for quiet lunches and long conversations, not the silent warfare about to unfold at table seven.

A discreet sign over the door read simply The Bistro. "I understand they have excellent food here." Patrick pulled into a parking spot and turned off the ignition. "But before we go in, there's one thing I have to do. I can't wait any longer." Before she could even ask him what he had in mind, he had her seat belt unbuckled and had pulled her as close to him as the console permitted. He threaded his long fingers through the waves of her hair, cupping her head and holding it in place as his mouth came down on hers.

Let’s head out for lunch. ‘Sure,’ I said, grabbing my phone and standing up. ‘But I’m buying.’ He chuckled. ‘Alright, but I’m picking the place. There’s this little bistro near Park & Fifth. They’ve got the best spicy Cacio e P**e in the city.’ I blinked. ‘Ha. You remembered.’ ‘Of course I did.’ Minutes later, we slid into a booth at the bistro and ordered. Once the waiter left, I leaned back and said, ‘So. Catch me up. What’s life been like post-graduation? You know my story now. What about yours? Seeing anyone?’

“We have reservations.” “Where at?” “Il Bistro, near Pike’s Place Market,” Anna answered. “Yes, I’m familiar,” said Simon. “Why don’t you join us?” asked Anna. Rai’s lips stiffened. Simon turned to Gideon. “What do you say, mate? Should we join these lovely ladies?” “Rai?” Gideon asked, hoping to elicit a response. Feigning a smile that looked more like a snarl, she said, “I’m sure you men would like to have your beer elsewhere.”