Page 61 of Angel Eyes

“Wow, it sounds like he doesn’t go easy on you.”

“He doesn’t. But he’s also my biggest champion.”

It was nothing short of a miracle, me finding him. After months of searching for an agent, and receiving more rejections than I cared to track, I had crossed paths with the semiretired gallerist by chance while attending an art exhibition in Montmartre. I’d been ready to call it a night but decided to stay for one last drink, only to find myself at the refreshments table at the same moment as Jean-Claude Blanchet. We’d hit it off right away, and after discussing the particulars of his engagement, a timeline for an art opening, and a few other details, he’d agreed to be my agent.

Juliet’s phone chimed, pulling me from my thoughts, and I looked over at her as she frowned down at the screen.

“Everything all right?”

“Um, yeah.” Her eyes flitted to mine before darting away again. “Just some work stuff.” She rose to her feet, a furrow tangling her brow as she scanned the message.

It’s not my business, not my place to ask.

“Lawyer work stuff?”

She nodded once, guilt clouding her expression.

She’s not my girlfriend, not my responsibility.

I folded my arms, my jaw clenching as she paced the room.

Screw it. She could get mad at me for overstepping if she wanted to, but I wouldn’t stand by and let anyone take advantage of her. “I thought you told your boss you wouldn’t be available for the rest of the summer?”

Her lips parted in surprise. “I did. Well, I tried to, but …”

“But he’s still sending you work anyway,” I finished for her.

“Just small projects, nothing major. I can knock this out in a couple of hours, no problem.”

I dragged a hand over my face, taking a second to get my irritation under control. The last thing I wanted to do was cause more harm than good. “I’m sure you can, but it’s not about that. It’s about not allowing people to overstep your boundaries.”

She grinned sheepishly. “I know. I’ve never been good at telling people no.”

“Now’s a great time to start.” I took a step closer, extending a hand. “Do you trust me?”

She hesitated for a moment, then bobbed her head, handing me the phone. I didn’t bother reading the email, getting the gist of her boss’s tone from the multiple sentences in all caps.

What an asshole.

I hit Reply and began to type.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing a strongly worded email to your boss to make sure he understands you will not be doing this assignment or any others until your writing program is finished.”

“Wait, what? You can’t send that.” Her hand shot out, and I caught it, only just resisting the urge to press a reassuring kiss against her wrist at the sight of her worried expression.

“I’m not going to send it. You are.”

She gave me a long, searching look, then pressed her lips into a firm line. “Okay.”

It took us almost twenty minutes to craft an email. We revised and re-revised the language until we finally settled on something she was comfortable with while still getting the point across.

“And send.” She grinned from where she sat curled up on the couch beside me, and I returned her smile, my heart swelling at the look of pride on her face.

“You did good, Juliet.”

Her eyes lifted to mine. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

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