Page 132 of Angel Eyes

“What are you doing hiding in the corner, mon cher?” Jean-Claude said when he reached me. “This is your big night. Several people are waiting to meet you.”

“Just taking a breather.” I waved away the offered glass of champagne.

He frowned. “Not drinking either?”

“No. I want to keep a clear head tonight.” That, and I refused to numb my emotions. If I couldn’t have Juliet close to me tonight, then I would settle for the pain of her absence.

“Hmm,” he said, eyeing me critically. “You shouldn’t take yourself so seriously, Gabriel. You deserve a chance to relax and celebrate all you’ve accomplished.”

“Right.” I feigned a smile. “So, how’s it going out there? Any interested patrons?”

“Any interested patrons?” he repeated, giving me an incredulous look. “My dear man, over half your paintings have sold already, and I imagine a fair few will go over the coming days as well. Good thing we decided to keep a reserve in storage—at this rate, you won’t have anything left to display.” He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I should mention, there’s one painting in particular that’s garnering a great deal of interest. It’s called Angel Eyes.”

I swiveled toward him. “My statement piece?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“It’s not for sale,” I said, my jaw tightening. “I’m serious—no one is to buy that painting.”

His brows knitted together. “Are you sure? If your concern is the price, I can assure you the offers have been most generous. You would be pleased with the amount—”

“I’m not selling it,” I barked, and he blinked, startled. I released a long breath, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m sorry. I think I need to get some air. Excuse me.”

I pushed toward the exit and had almost made my escape when a voice rang out from behind me. “And just where do you think you’re going?”

I turned in time to see a flash of red before Lily launched herself at me, James and Nora coming up behind her. Nora gave her sister-in-law an amused look. “Lily, you really must learn how to hug people without tackling them.” Nora stepped around her, drawing me into a gentler embrace. “The gallery is a smashing success, Gabe. We’re so proud of you.”

“It’s bloody brilliant, is what it is,” James said, throwing an arm around me. “Congratulations, mate. Well done.”

“Thanks, guys.” A genuine smile tugged at my lips. “I appreciate it.”

Nora arched an eyebrow. “Yes, well, just don’t go getting too big for your britches. We still need you at the cycling shop, you know. At least until this little one arrives.” She swept a hand over the barely visible swell of her stomach.

I squeezed her arm. “No worries. I’ll be around for a while yet.”

“Oh good,” James said with an exaggerated sigh. “And here I thought I’d have to persuade you to stay with a raise or something. Thanks for saving me the trouble, buddy.”

I eyed him coolly as Lily laughed behind her hand and Nora rolled her eyes.

“Pardon me.” The journalist I’d seen earlier approached, stepping into our circle. “You’re the artist, Gabriel Beaumont?” I nodded. “I thought so. Alain Moreau. I’m a journalist for Le Monde Artistique magazine. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“We’ll just be near the refreshment table,” Nora said, looping her arm through Lily’s. James clapped me on the shoulder before following them.

“Friends of yours, Monsieur Beaumont?” He reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve a small audio recorder. “Sorry, is it all right if I record this?”

“Yes, and yes. And Gabriel is fine.”

“Right, Gabriel.” He turned on the recorder. “So, as you know, Paris has long been considered the art capital of the world, but recent years have seen an uptick in galleries across the city. Between the influx of international artists due to Brexit and the arrival of a new generation of talent, there’s no question the art scene is awash with competition right now. Tell me, how do you plan to distinguish yourself as a debut artist?”

“By telling the truth. My goal has always been to be as honest as I can, and every painting is just an expression of what lives inside me—in my heart and mind. I have no ambition aside from that.”

He regarded me with interest. “But surely you must take your cues from other contemporary artists?”

“I take my cues from my creator, though I’ll admit to holding an admiration for my fellow artists. There is much we can learn from one another as we all strive to improve in our craft.”

“Spoken like a man of confidence, and little wonder—I hear you’ve sold several paintings already. That’s more than what most new artists achieve in a month’s time. How does it feel to be such an instant success? More than one critic is already calling you the debut artist of the year.”

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