Page 66 of Angel Eyes

How could I compete with that?

“I—I’m sorry,” I said, placing my napkin down, “but I suddenly don’t feel well.”

“Oh no,” Nora said, sweeping a hand across my back in a gesture I was sure she meant to be soothing but only made me feel worse. “Do you want to lie down in the guest room?”

“I think I’d better just take off. Thank you for such a lovely dinner.” I rose without meeting anyone’s eye, barely resisting the urge to sprint from the table. In the hallway, I heard heavy footfalls behind me.

“Let me take you home,” Gabriel said, closing his fingers around my elbow.

“No.” I pulled out of his grasp, inwardly begging myself not to cry. I would never outlive the humiliation if I broke down in front of him. “Please stay. I don’t want to spoil the evening.”

Slipping on my flats, I collected my purse from the entryway table before lunging for the door. I’d almost gotten it open when Gabriel pressed a firm hand against it, holding it shut and spinning me to face him.

“Juliet, what’s wrong?” He gripped my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Talk to me, angel.”

A sob rose in my throat at the endearment. I needed to get out of here—away from this man who I couldn’t bear to lose, who was never mine to begin with.

After a stretch of silence, his brows lowered. “You promised.”

I had promised to tell him if anything was wrong, but what was I supposed to say? Sorry, I’m feeling insecure about the gorgeous redhead pawing you at the dinner table. Yeah, not likely.

“I’m sure it’s just a twenty-four-hour stomach bug,” I lied. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Juliet—” Gabriel dragged a hand through his hair in frustration, pacing the length of the hallway. Returning to me, he placed a hand at the base of my spine and opened the door, leading me down the stairs and out of the building into the warm summer air.

Turning to me, he said, “If you won’t let me take you home, will you at least let me call you a cab?”

I nodded numbly, studying the pavement as he waved one down. Depositing me in the backseat, he hesitated, watching me beneath half-lidded eyes.

“Good night, Gabriel.”

I caught the hard movement in his throat as he backed away from the window, shoving his hands in his pockets as the cab pulled away from the curb. A dull ache expanded in my chest as I stared at his shrinking reflection in the rearview mirror.

Why did I even come tonight? I should have found an excuse to stay home. If I had, maybe I could have kept pretending I wasn’t already in over my head.

As the cab rounded the corner and Gabriel disappeared from view, I folded over my lap and finally allowed my tears to break free.

Twenty-Three

Juliet

“Does this dress make my boobs look small?”

I dragged my gaze away from the flamingo-pink wallpaper of the dressing room, watching as Simone swiveled in front of the floor-length mirror before darting a glance out the window at the darkening sky.

It was Sunday evening, and after spending most of the day in bed bingeing campy shows on Netflix and hugging a half-liter of caramel au beurre salé ice cream, I finally let Simone drag me out on a shopping expedition to Galeries Lafayette. I’d nearly gone blind when I stepped across the threshold of the luxury department store, my tired eyes assaulted by lights reflecting off glass display cases and marble finishings.

Hovering in the entrance, my eyes had traveled around the cavernous space, unsure where to land. Ornate crown molding and gilded ironwork balconies drew my attention up, past floor after floor of upscale merchandise, all the way to the art nouveau glass dome that adorned the ceiling. Bursts of floral décor crept up the marble walls and colorful mannequins stood beside displays of designer handbags and shoes. And the cherry on top was the battalion of salespersons, all impeccably dressed, standing sentry at every corner, armed with sample fragrances and welcoming smiles. To say it had been a shock to my ice cream-addled brain was an understatement.

I studied Simone’s lithe figure as she preened in front of the mirror. The backless sequined gown was a rich navy blue with a deep V-neck and a fishtail hem. Very sophisticated. Like the kind of sophisticated that suggested the woman wearing it spent her weekends in Monte Carlo, sipping cocktails and playing high-stakes poker.

“It’s a lovely dress, but yes, it makes your boobs look rather small.” Simone’s mouth fell open, and I winced. “Not that there’s anything wrong with small boobs.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She draped her braids over one shoulder, gesturing for me to help her unzip the dress. “I’m just surprised at your candor. You’re usually polite to a fault, but I have to say, I find this version of you refreshing.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick about me.”

Despite what Simone thought, I wasn’t candid. If I were, I wouldn’t have lied to Gabriel about wanting to be just friends. I would have told him how I felt from the beginning.

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