Page 88 of Angel Eyes

“Please,” she whispered, folding back the coverlet and patting the space beside her. I sawed my lip between my teeth, throwing a desperate look toward the hall, then sighed.

“Just to sleep,” I said as much to myself as to her. I pulled my sweatshirt over my head and tossed it on the floor, pointing at the empty pillow. “Do you have another one of those?”

“There should be one in the closet … but why do you need another pillow?”

“Trust me,” I said, crossing the room to retrieve it, “it’s for your benefit.”

I climbed into the bed and placed the pillow between us, switching the light off as Juliet snuggled against the opposite side of the makeshift barricade. For a while, I listened to the sound of her breaths, my eyes lingering on her in the darkness. She was silent for so long, I thought she had fallen asleep. But then she whispered, “You’re a good man, Cristian. Honest and good.”

I swallowed, blinking at her silhouette. “No, I’m not, sweetheart. You only think that because you don’t know me.”

Her hand lingered on the pillow, and I inched mine closer until my fingers brushed hers, my heart thundering behind my ribs. Why this girl had so much faith in me was a mystery, but perhaps an even greater mystery was why I wanted to be a man worthy of such faith.

My hand trailed up to her wrist, pausing to trace the cool metal chain ridged with sapphires.

The bracelet. She was wearing the bracelet I bought her. Pulling in a slow breath, I closed my fingers around it, letting myself feel something I would never allow in the light of day.

Hope.

The dangerous thing about hope was, too often, it led to wishing for things one should not. Like me wishing I had met Juliet under different circumstances. That I was just a guy, and she was just a girl, and this fragile friendship blossoming between us hadn’t sprouted from a bed of lies.

And then there was Gabriel. I didn’t think for one second she would ever choose a friendship with me over a relationship with him. Still, as I lay beside her watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, I realized a small part of me, a part I would forget existed when the sun rose, wished she had room in her heart for me too.

Thirty

Gabriel

My fingers drummed against the table as I watched the steam rolling up from the espresso I had yet to drink. From behind the shelter of my sunglasses, my eyes flitted to the other outdoor café patrons. It was too sunny today, especially in light of the black mood that had been hanging over me like a cloud since I left Juliet on her doorstep last night with little more than a kiss and a promise I would call.

Speaking of which …

I glanced at my phone. 13:01. Was it already that late? I should have called her first thing this morning, like I wanted to. Instead, I had gone straight to the gallery and rummaged through my desk in search of the note I’d found shoved underneath the front door weeks ago. Then, I did the unthinkable and arranged to meet up with the last person I wanted to see.

“Bon après-midi, cousin.”

I looked up in time to see Lucien sliding into the chair opposite me, and my jaw ticked as I took in his appearance. Because of course he rocked up to this meeting in his standard attire of designer suit, perfectly styled hair, and general air of assholery.

He adjusted his watch before folding his hands on the table, his gaze moving from my aviators to the onyx dog tag resting above my T-shirt. “I must say, Gabriel, your choice of clothing leaves much to be desired.”

I pushed my sunglasses into my hair. “Yeah, well, unfortunately, my wardrobe was fresh out of bullshit. Maybe you can lend me something next time.”

He chuckled, relaxing back into his chair. “I miss this back-and-forth between us.”

“Do you?” I tossed back the shot of espresso, wishing it were whiskey instead. “That’s surprising, given the three years of silence.”

The humor drained from his expression. “You were the one who shut me out, Gabriel. You were the one who took off without so much as a goodbye.”

“Yeah,” I said, setting the cup down so forcefully the table rattled, “and you of all people should know why since you’re the reason I left. Or did you forget? Maybe you’ve become so blinded by your own lies you don’t even know what the truth is anymore.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Still so self-righteous. Did it ever occur to you that there may be more to the story than what you know? If you had just talked to me—”

“You would have what? Fallen on your sword and taken responsibility for your actions?” I huffed a humorless laugh. “Not fucking likely. We both know you’re an unapologetically selfish person who makes every decision based on personal interest.”

“And I don’t pretend to be otherwise,” he said without even a hint of remorse. “But we could have figured it out. We may not have been friends, but we were always family.”

“That’s touching, but I didn’t ask you here to reminisce.” I swallowed, pushing down the anger in my throat. “Elise called me last night.” He blinked, his features still as he regarded me with a blank expression, and my anger burned back up my esophagus. “You already knew.”

“I had nothing to do with it, if that’s what you’re implying.”

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