Page 93 of Angel Eyes

He drew back, giving me a long look. “Well, the main palace is great and certainly worth visiting. But my favorite place is the Grand Trianon, northwest of the Château. The king built it as sort of a retreat, an escape from the etiquette of courtly life. Thus, it’s more private. More intimate.”

“Oh.” It was suddenly hard to breathe. “Okay, let’s do it.”

His brows lifted. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured—”

“I don’t. I want to know about the things that matter to you. Will you show me?”

The air felt heavier as the weight of my question hung between us.

“Yeah, angel, I’ll show you.”

“Okay, we definitely should have come here first.”

Stepping onto the portico that connected the courtyard to the gardens, I ran my hand over a column of pink marble, blinking up at the carved ceiling. The Château and surrounding grounds were stunning, unmatched in their opulence and grandeur. But Trianon, with its remote location and floral motif, had a certain serenity that the larger estate lacked. It was more refined, less ostentatious.

“Yeah, I spent hours here the first time I visited Versailles.” Gabriel took my hand, leading me down a set of stone steps toward a tree-lined path. “It’s a great place to be alone with your thoughts.” Alone with your thoughts? I glanced up at him, the back of my neck tingling with curiosity. “So,” he continued, “how is your piece for the magazine progressing? The deadline is coming up, no?”

“Yep. Benoit’s doing a final read over the weekend and will let me know his decision on Tuesday.” I didn’t even want to think about the possibility of him declining to submit it.

“You’ll be fine,” Gabriel said as if reading my thoughts. “I have faith in you.” He squeezed my hand and something warm unfurled in my belly.

“Thanks. You know what’s surprising though? When I first agreed to submit to the competition, I did it because I was excited about the chance to be published. But now I’ve gained something more valuable. I’ve realized that practicing art—any art—isn’t about gaining recognition. It’s about becoming, about discovering what’s inside you. So, win or lose, I’ll always be grateful for this experience.”

Gabriel grinned. “A good insight, but I still think you’ll win.”

“Well, I certainly hope so, especially since not only would my work be published but I would also get to attend the magazine’s annual networking event. All the competition winners are invited, and it’s a great opportunity to rub shoulders with the crème de la crème of the Paris writing industry. In fact, I think the networking event is the more valuable prize. As my grandfather used to say, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.”

“Truer words have never been spoken. I wouldn’t be debuting my work if it weren’t for Jean-Claude.”

I nodded as we rounded a bend in the path, a garden folly rising in the distance.

“Speaking of, are things on track for your opening?”

“They are. I’ve already moved all the completed paintings out of storage to be framed, and the invitations will go out next week.”

“Are you expecting a lot of guests?”

We approached the folly, which resembled a temple that would have been better suited to ancient Greece, with its Corinthian capitals and domed roof, than the French countryside.

“A fair number.” Gabriel trailed a hand over the carved sculpture at the center of the structure. “Jean-Claude curated the guest list. He’s a bit of a snob when it comes to exclusivity.” He glanced down at me. “Don’t worry, I made sure you and your friends were included.”

“Oh, cool,” I said, trying for nonchalance, but not pulling it off as my lips curved in a smile. A roll of thunder rumbled overhead, and I peered at the sky. “We should head back.”

“Wait, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.” His eyes ventured over my shoulder before returning to mine. “About the gala, I want to apologize for taking off on you. I had some things to sort out. Still, I never meant for things to turn out the way they did.”

“I know. I mean, I was upset at first, but I understand you must have had your reasons.”

“Whatever my reasons, I’m sorry I let them get in the way.”

“In the way?”

He nodded, brushing a thumb over my cheek. “Do you remember what you said at the beginning of the summer about us just being friends and there being no expectations between us?” I bobbed my head, my lungs barely pulling in air. “Well, I agreed at the time because I didn’t want to become a distraction or get in the way of your aspirations. And I still don’t. But the truth is, I want more with you, Juliet. This thing between us is more than friendship, and I think you know that. And maybe you think betting on me is too much of a risk, but I’m asking for a chance to prove to you it’s worth it. That we’re worth it.”

“I don’t understand.” Blood thundered in my ears, drowning out the very real thunder. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying be with me, Juliet.”

“As in … a relationship?”

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