Page 84 of Angel Eyes

In spite of everything. As if all that had occurred—all that she and Lucien had done to me—could be summed up in such a simple phrase. Like it meant nothing, even though it had cost me everything.

“What do you want, Elise?”

She paused. “I’ve missed you—”

“Don’t you dare. I don’t know what pit of hell you crawled out of, but you can turn right the fuck around because I want nothing to do with you.” A heavy silence emanated through the phone as I stood rooted to the spot, the music fading to a low hum as blood rushed in my ears.

After a long beat, she spoke again. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Gabriel.” She disconnected the call, and my hand dropped, the phone sliding from my grasp as my heart thundered against my rib cage.

What the hell just happened?

The room suddenly felt too small, and I pulled at my collar to release the pressure on my windpipe.

“Gabriel?” A warm hand closed over my clammy one, and I whirled to find Juliet behind me, her face etched with worry. “Goodness, you’re cold as ice. What happened?”

“Nothing.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, pulling out of her grasp.

I didn’t want her to see me like this, to get an up-close look at all the raw and broken pieces of me, the old wounds now freshly exposed.

First Lucien shows up out of the blue and now Elise. What had I done to deserve this? Just when my life was taking on new meaning, the two of them showed up like thieves in the night, intent on taking everything away from me. Again.

And Juliet … what must I look like to her?

“Something’s come up,” I forced out, nearly choking on the lie. “I need to take you home.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes glistening in the dim light.

This is hurting her. I’m hurting her. But I needed to get my head on straight and clear up this mess with Elise before I took things any further.

For the entire ride back to her apartment, I held her hand. The silence of the cab was an abrupt change from the music and laughter that had surrounded us minutes before. A beautiful moment that might have become a cherished memory until Elise called and ruined it. I shouldn’t be surprised. That had always been her modus operandi—ruining things.

At Juliet’s door, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Without waiting for her reply, I strode for the stairs, pedaling down them as quickly as possible before I could change my mind and go back up. Juliet deserved the best, and I wanted to give her that. But not like this. Not until I shut this shit down with Elise.

I pushed out on to the dark street as the image of Juliet with tears in her eyes swam before my vision.

I’m going to fix this, angel.

I just hoped she could hang on until then.

Twenty-Nine

Cristian

Iwiped the sweat from my eyes and reached for the pull-up bar again, hoisting myself up for another set. It was already half past ten, but I was restless and needed to burn off some energy if I had any hope of getting some sleep. On any other night, I might have ventured out to a bar to pick up a woman, but the idea didn’t appeal to me tonight. Instead, I’d pulled on sweatpants and headed for the spare bedroom I’d converted into a workout space, determined to drive my body to exhaustion in a more constructive way.

The sharp peal of a ringtone cut through the sound of my heavy breaths, and I lowered myself to the floor, striding toward the weight bench where I’d left my phone. Pushing back the hair clinging to my forehead, I swiped right to answer. “Marcel.”

“Lucien, comment les choses avancent?” he said without preamble.

“Good evening to you too.” I grabbed a towel from the closet as I headed to the bathroom. Was a simple greeting too much to ask for? Possibly. There had been a time when my uncle had been kinder, less business-like in his manner, but that was before.

Before I screwed everything up and let our family be torn apart.

I turned on the shower, dragging my sweat-soaked shirt over my head. “Things are progressing fine. You don’t need to worry.”

Things were better than fine, actually. We were now ahead of schedule with the construction. The new chef was settling in nicely with the rest of the staff. And just last week, I secured a lucrative supply deal with a winery in Burgundy.

I returned to the bedroom in search of clean clothes, weighing which update to give Marcel first. But he cut my musings short when he said, “So you say, but Gabriel still isn’t taking my calls. Have you been in touch with him?”

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