Page 133 of Angel Eyes

I folded my arms, looking over his shoulder. “Whether I’m a true success has yet to be seen, but I’m honored people enjoy my work.”

“So modest, though I imagine that will change over time. There’s no room for humility at the top. By the way, how’s the view from up there?” He chuckled at his own lame joke, but something uncomfortable shifted in my stomach at hearing it.

Just make sure when you make it to the top, you aren’t all alone up there. Success is nothing without someone to share it with.

James’s comment from weeks ago came back to me with startling clarity, and I swallowed hard.

“Lonely,” I murmured.

The journalist’s smile faltered. “I’m sorry. What did you say?” I opened my mouth to ask him to move on to the next question when my gaze snagged on a woman studying a painting across the room, her long braids hanging down her back as she peered up at it.

Simone.

“I’m sorry,” I said to the journalist. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

I didn’t wait for his response as I moved toward Simone as quickly as I could. Pushing past a cluster of people gathered around a high-top table, I finally got a clear view of her, Carter moving sedately at her side. She glanced over her shoulder as though she’d sensed me approaching.

“Hey,” I said breathlessly, my eyes flicking between her and Carter before darting around the immediate area. I didn’t bother hiding who I was looking for.

“She’s not here,” Simone said, her tone frosty.

Disappointment slammed into my chest. “Oh.”

“But she wanted us to support your debut,” Carter chimed in. “You’ve done a fine job, by the way.”

“Yes, very nice job,” Simone said stiffly, pressing her lips into a tight line as though it was taking her a great deal of effort not to ream me out for what I’d done to her friend.

Part of me wished she would.

She sniffed. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I suddenly find myself in need of a glass of wine.” She strode in the direction of the refreshments table as if she couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Carter turned to follow her, but I caught his arm.

“Please,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady, “tell me how she is.”

He gave me a sympathetic look. “Listen, it’s not my place to get involved in whatever’s going on between you and Juliet. If you want to know how she is, you’ll have to ask her yourself.” He stepped past me before slowing to a halt. He turned to me again, indecision warring on his face. “And you’d better do it quickly before you miss your chance.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Juliet’s leaving.”

My pulse jumped. “Leaving? I thought your program didn’t end for another week, at least.”

He shrugged. “She got permission from Benoit to take off early. Final assignments are done, and since she lost that magazine competition—”

“Wait, what?” The floor swayed beneath my feet, and I braced a hand on the wall to steady myself. “She lost the NRF competition?” Carter nodded, looking uncomfortable.

“When?” I choked out. “When is she leaving?”

“Sunday.” He looked behind him toward Simone’s retreating figure. “Look, that’s all I know. I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but I did, so do what you want with the information.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and walked away, leaving me shaken to the core.

Sunday. I pushed both hands into my hair, dragging in a ragged breath to slow my galloping heart.

Juliet Chandler, the love of my life, was leaving in three days.

Fuck.

I was still standing against the wall an hour later when the final guests departed. Thankfully, no one else had tried to talk to me after my conversation with Carter, not even that journalist. It was just as well—I was in no mood to finish the interview anyway.

“Well, mon cher,” Jean-Claude slurred, his cheeks flushed with wine, “all in all, a good night, wouldn’t you say?”

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