Page 48 of Angel Eyes

“Could you keep your voice down?” I hissed, resisting the urge to clap a hand over Simone’s mouth. It wasn’t that Gabriel’s gallery was a secret, but …

I darted a glance around the classroom, spotting Marlena a few seats away. As if she could sense me looking, she glanced up, her eyes narrowing when they connected with mine. Her lips curled in a sneer before she dropped her gaze again, examining her nails.

Okay, that felt kind of good.

Simone followed the direction of my eyes. “You’re not still worried about Marlena, are you?”

I shook my head, rooting around in my bag for my coursebook.

“Good,” she went on, “because I say she got what was coming to her.” She brushed a piece of lint from her corseted mesh top. “Anyway, that’s awesome about Gabriel’s gallery. He’s like ten times cooler than I originally thought.” She blinked at my side-eye. “What? I’m not saying he wasn’t cool before, but tour guide, art gallery owner …” She flattened her palms, pretending to weigh their value on scales.

I grinned. “Okay, him having an art gallery is marginally cooler.”

“That’s all I’m saying, babe,” she said, sinking back in her chair.

Simone wasn’t wrong—it was pretty cool. The moment I stepped across the threshold of Gabriel’s gallery, I had been completely enthralled. The space was beautiful—elegant and airy and not open to the public yet. I had wanted to ask him more about it, but we’d both been distracted at the time.

And what a fine distraction it was.

“So, when can we see his work?” Simone stage-whispered.

“Oh, um, well—”

“Bonjour, good morning.” Professor Benoit swept into the room, dropping a disorganized-looking pile of papers onto his desk and fixing his glasses. “I apologize for being late.” He pulled a pocket watch from his jacket, pausing to look at it.

Oh, my God—he has a pocket watch.

“Right, then.” He raked a hand through his hair, leaving several strands standing on end. “If you will all turn to the passage from Anna Karenina, we will begin with—”

“Excuse me, Professor,” Dean interrupted. “I believe we were still discussing Les Misérables.”

Benoit faltered, furrowing his brow. “Er, yes, of course. That’s what I meant.”

The class proceeded without further incident, not counting a heated debate on Jean Valjean’s transformation from a hardened criminal into a paragon of virtue. I tried to follow the discussion as Emile and Karin engaged in a verbal sparring match over the book’s theme and whether redemption required righteous acts or could be found through selfless love alone. But, every so often, my eyes strayed to Benoit. I’d never seen him look so out of sorts.

I wondered if something happened.

After class, I took my time packing up while the rest of the students filtered out. When the room was empty, I rose from my seat and approached Benoit’s desk where he sat writing in an appointment book.

“Professor?”

He looked up from the page, blinking at me in surprise. “Oh, Ms. Chandler. I didn’t realize you were still here.” He closed the book, straightening his tie. “Was there something you needed?”

“No, I was wondering if there was something you needed. You seemed a bit preoccupied this morning.”

His eyes widened a fraction before he sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Is it that obvious?” He removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “It’s my assistant. Just this morning, I received a note from him saying he’s taking an emergency leave to care for an ailing relative in Bavaria. I’m afraid he’s left me in the lurch. He keeps me organized, you see, helping with my lesson plans, schedule, and the like. And with no notice, I am, well …”

“When does he return?”

“That’s the thing—he didn’t say. I don’t expect him to return until the fall semester at the earliest.” He stared down at the mess of papers on his desk. “What am I going to do …”

“Maybe I could help. I could fill in for him until the end of the summer.” Benoit stilled, his eyes springing upward. “Think about it. I’m extremely organized. You have to be in my line of work, especially when you’re juggling multiple deals.”

He frowned, his mouth opening and closing. “I … I couldn’t pay you. The university would have to hire you for you to be put on the payroll.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need a salary.”

Something like hope flickered in his eyes before he dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry, but I cannot in good conscience accept your assistance without giving you anything in exchange.”

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