Page 141 of Angel Eyes

“Former favorite,” he said stiffly. “And now, my greatest competition.”

She laughed, waving a hand at André before turning to me. “Hello again, Juliet.”

“Celine.” I let out a surprised exhale as she air-kissed my cheeks. “So lovely to see you.”

“You two are acquainted?” Benoit asked.

She nodded. “I had the pleasure of meeting Juliet a few weeks ago at a charity gala, and I admit, I’ve been hoping to hear from her ever since.” Her eyes returned to mine. “When I saw you made the list of finalists for the NRF competition, I was afraid you’d slipped through my fingers, but maybe there is hope for me yet. Tell me, have you given any more thought to becoming a contributor for La Femme?”

André regarded her coolly. “You know it’s in poor taste to come to my event and poach my talent, right?”

Celine gave him a sweet smile. “From what I heard, she’s not your talent yet.” She looped an arm through mine. “Now, if you gentlemen don’t mind, I would like to borrow Juliet for a bit. There are some people I want to introduce her to.”

I’ve never met a celebrity, but after spending an evening in Celine’s company, I had a pretty good idea of what it must be like. Celine knew everyone. And I didn’t just mean her colleagues from La Femme, who were also in attendance at tonight’s event.

Within an hour, she had introduced me to at least three published authors, a literary agent, another magazine editor and a publisher, all of whom had peppered me with questions about my writing. I was under no illusion as to why. Though none of them had seen my work, it was clear my association with Celine spoke volumes, and by the time she excused herself to go to the powder room, I’d received several business cards and even a request to submit a writing sample.

It wasn’t much, but it was definitely a start.

Hovering at the back of the terrace, I stopped to take a breather beneath one of the illuminated pergolas, flipping through the small treasure trove of cards.

Just this morning, after much soul-searching, I had finally come to a decision about my future. I was staying in Paris. The realization that I no longer belonged in New York, but here pursuing my writing had been both terrifying and exhilarating. But once I had made up my mind, the rest had been easier.

I called Tom to not only turn down the deal, but also to tender my notice of resignation. Shortly after that, I had emailed Benoit to accept the teaching assistant position. I’d then spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking, requesting an extension on my lease, and drafting a lengthy message to Kyle reiterating our relationship was over.

The scariest part of it all had been acknowledging there was no guarantee my decision would work out in my favor. Writing, like any act of creation, is something of a gamble. People might love your work and you might rise to the heights of international acclaim, or your efforts might collect dust in a bottom drawer while you keep searching for your big break. But either way, having the courage to try is what makes all the difference in my book.

And try, I would.

I caught sight of a figure moving in the shadows, and my pulse skipped when our eyes connected across the terrace. Slowly, I approached him, and he watched me carefully, eyes searching. After a long beat, my lips twitched with a smile.

“A burst water pipe?”

Cristian grinned, sinking his hands into his pockets. “A most unfortunate event. Doubtless, the owners will be more careful with their maintenance in the future.”

“Uh-huh.” I folded my arms, arching an eyebrow at him. “And you just so happened to find out about it in time to host the event here tonight?”

He shrugged, his silver eyes gleaming. “What can I say? Good news travels fast.”

I huffed, chewing on my smile. “So, I guess I have you to thank for all of this.” I gestured to the bustling space behind me, the party now in full swing as a live band struck up a song.

He shook his head. “As much as I love to take credit for a plan well executed, I wasn’t the mastermind behind tonight. I might have pulled some strings, but the rest …” He trailed off, and my heart beat out of rhythm when he nodded toward the elevator. “He’s waiting downstairs for you, sweetheart.”

Taking my hand, he placed a soft kiss on the back of it, and I hesitated only a second before throwing my arms around him. “Thank you, Cristian.”

He chuckled, squeezing me gently. “Just promise to name one of your children after me and we’ll call it even.”

I laughed, swiping at a lone tear trailing over my cheek as he released me. Giving his hand a final squeeze, I back away slowly, then turned and bolted for the elevator.

Forty-Nine

Gabriel

Standing beside the window overlooking the Seine, I watched as the last rays of light faded from the evening sky. The silvery zinc rooftops turned midnight blue as the sun dipped toward the horizon, and the pink-gold air glowed behind the Eiffel Tower, casting it in silhouette.

I would always remember the first time I saw it. Looking down on the luminous city from the hilltop in Montmartre, I had watched as the tower came to life, sparkling with hundreds of white lights and illuminating the night. Since then, I’d fallen in love with Paris, with its people, its culture, and I promised long ago to never leave it.

But that was before I found the one person I couldn’t live without.

---