Page 76 of Angel Eyes

A quick glance at the directory told me Julien Benoit’s office was on the second floor, and I took the stairs two at a time, haphazardly mulling over what I wanted to say to Juliet. Not that it mattered. If Sunday night had proven anything, it was that all of my scruples would go right over a cliff the second Juliet fixed me with that no-nonsense look of hers.

Finding the office at the end of the hallway, I knocked despite the door being ajar.

“Come,” called a deep voice, and I paused on the threshold, frowning.

I didn’t particularly like the idea of Juliet being up here alone with some old guy, sequestered in his office down a corridor far away from listening ears. What if he was some pervert who got off on having a pretty young assistant all to himself? What if he made a pass at her? More importantly, why did I care? I pressed my mouth into a thin line and pushed the door open.

A shaft of sunlight hit me as soon as I entered the room, pouring in through the floor-length windows. I squinted, spotting a man sitting behind an old-fashioned desk.

He peered at me over his glasses, a fountain pen suspended in his hand. “Can I help you?”

I blinked, shaking off my surprise. His desk may have been old, his style of clothing too, but there was nothing old about the man looking back at me. This was Juliet’s professor? He didn’t even look that much older than me, and his manner was alarmingly debonair for an academic in tweed.

“Cristian?” I spun around to find Juliet standing behind me, holding two steaming coffee mugs, her plaited hair hanging over one shoulder. Her lips curved toward the floor as I stared at her for too many seconds, groping for the slipshod speech I had prepared.

What was I supposed to be saying?

After several seconds, during which I seemed to have lost all brain function, she moved past me into the room. After exchanging a few words with her professor, she took me by the arm and dragged me down the hallway like a naughty schoolboy on his way to the headmaster’s office.

I let her lead me down the staircase and out a back exit, all while trying to clear my head.

All I needed to do was apologize. Easy. But the minute we stepped outside, she turned and pierced me with a look that eloquently read, Please fuck all the way off.

“What do you want, Cristian? Come to take another swipe at me?”

Something like hurt flashed in her eyes, and I reached up to loosen my tie, which was suddenly too tight. “I came to say I’m sorry for my behavior the other night. I crossed a line.” She regarded me silently, and I pushed on. “I shouldn’t have …” Taunted you about Gabriel. Called you a hypocrite. Almost kissed you. “I’m … I’m just sorry.”

Okay, apparently, I sucked at apologizing.

She looked away, her expression brimming with irritation. But that was a good thing. She might be angry, but at least she wasn’t indifferent, which meant I had a shot at making things right with her.

For the restaurant scheme, of course.

“Why should I trust you?”

I swallowed, my Adam’s apple getting stuck behind my collar. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

There was no maybe about it. She absolutely shouldn’t trust me. I was dragging her into a family conflict she knew nothing about, all to serve my own selfish aims. And for what? It wasn’t as if I didn’t have any other options, any other way to get through to Gabriel. I’d only let those plans fall to the wayside because I was confident Juliet was the easiest means to an end. But if I had to, I could go back to the drawing board. I didn’t have to stand here fighting with her.

What was it she’d called me? A cold-hearted bastard? Yeah. That was for the best. Better to let her think the worst of me, to let her walk away before I could do any more damage.

After a beat of silence, she laughed bitterly, backing toward the door. “Got it. Have a nice life, Cristian.”

“Wait—” Because fuck that. I wasn’t giving up that easily.

I darted a look around, searching for a way to keep her from leaving. My eyes snagged on something across the courtyard, sunlight reflecting off its metal slats. It was a Hail Mary, but I was out of options.

“Bench rules,” I blurted out.

She hovered in the doorway, wrinkling her nose in confusion. “What?”

“Bench rules,” I repeated, nodding in the direction of the lone bench sitting near a fountain at the other end of the courtyard. “Whatever is said on the bench, stays on the bench, right? Ask me anything you want. I promise I won’t lie to you.” I didn’t wait for her to agree before striding toward it. Later, I would pick apart why this woman had me chasing her around like a whipped puppy, but for now, the only thing I wanted was to see this through.

I shrugged out of my jacket, sinking onto the heated metal as the mist from the fountain cooled my skin. By the time I had rolled up my shirt sleeves, Juliet was walking toward me, and my shoulders lowered an inch in relief.

She sat down next to me, cradling her elbows. “I need to be back upstairs in ten minutes.”

“That’s fine. Ask me anything you want.”

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