Page 81 of Angel Eyes

“Juliet.” James engulfed me in a hug, and a laugh bubbled out my throat.

Extricating myself, I placed my hands on his shoulders, giving him a once-over. “Wow, you sure do clean up nice.”

He threw me a wink. “Don’t let Gabe hear you say that.”

“Don’t let Gabe hear you say what?” On cue, Gabriel’s hand hooked around my waist, and my whole body hummed at the simple contact. Instinctively, I turned toward him, and he folded me into the crook of his arm like we’d done this a thousand times before. I caught the rapid exchange of glances around the table but was distracted when his lips brushed over my temple in a featherlight kiss.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He drew me toward an older man and a young woman sitting opposite James and Nora, speaking to each other in hushed tones. The man stood at our approach, eyeing me curiously beneath a cloud of white hair.

“Juliet, I would like to introduce you to Jean-Claude Blanchet.”

“Oh, your art agent, right?”

Gabriel gave me an affectionate smile. “You have an excellent memory. But I forgot to mention he’s also the man responsible for my shot at success.”

“Enchanté.” Jean-Claude bent over my hand, planting a polite kiss on the back of it. “And nonsense. You, mon cher, are responsible for your own success.” Jean-Claude turned, gesturing to the woman still seated behind him. “And this delightful lady is my niece, Celine.”

She rose, assessing me with shrewd eyes, her chin-length hair framing the sharp line of her jaw. “Je suis ravie de faire votre connaissance.” When I extended my hand, she grasped it firmly, and I took an instant liking to her.

Gabriel pulled out the chair beside hers for me, and I lowered myself into it as he took the seat to my left. Celine resumed her seat, extracting a cigarette from a thin metal case.

“So, you’re Mr. Blanchet’s niece?”

The corner of her mouth curled as she blew out a long column of smoke. Leaning in, she lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I’m actually his great-niece. But don’t tell him I told you. He would never admit to being old enough to have a great-anything.” I bit my lip before a smile could surface, dragging two fingers over my mouth in a zipping motion.

“And you?” Several waiters appeared, depositing bowls of soup in front of us. “I hear you are a writer.”

“Um, well, aspiring writer.”

She raised an eyebrow, regarding me over the rim of her wineglass. “Aspiring? Ma chère, you either are a writer or you are not. Do Americans always make things so complicated?”

Sparks of heat trailed up my neck as I stared down at my steaming bowl of bouillabaisse.

She chuckled. “I am only kidding. Though, I suggest you drop the aspiring line in the future. If you want to be in this industry, you cannot be timid about it. There’s a writer on every corner in Paris, and you won’t be doing yourself any favors by playing coy.”

“Right, um—”

“She’s submitting a piece to La Nouvelle Revue Française pretty soon,” Gabriel said over my shoulder. I turned to find his eyes on me, his hand folding around mine under the table. “Isn’t that right, Juliet?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

She eyed me thoughtfully. “Ç’est vrai? That’s a competitive publication. You must be confident to submit to them.” It was meant as a statement, but I could see the question in her eyes. The challenge.

I swallowed, grateful for the reassuring pressure of Gabriel’s hand.

In the legal industry, you constantly had to prove yourself. Pass the bar exam. Secure a position in a reputable firm. Show your colleagues you have what it takes to be among their ranks. But this new pursuit of mine was different. I wasn’t sure whether it was because of what Celine said or because Gabriel had backed me up, but I felt an unexpected surge of confidence. All my life, I had colored inside the lines, following all the rules out of fear of making a misstep. But I didn’t need to do that anymore.

I could write my own damn rules.

“This will be my first time submitting a creative piece to a publication, but I’ve been writing for years. I’m a practicing attorney in New York and have coauthored several published articles. Writing about things like social issues in M&A transactions differs from what I’m writing now, but I’m confident in my ability to learn and adapt. And even if I don’t win this competition, I’ll have learned something for trying.”

Celine gave me an assessing look.

Had I said too much?

I glanced around the table, my eyes trailing over James and Nora before falling on Lily. I blinked, surprised to find her staring at me with parted lips, her face pale.

“You should send me your piece,” Celine said, drawing my attention back to her. Unsnapping the clasp of her clutch, she rummaged around inside it before extracting a card and handing it to me. I examined it.

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