Leopard's Prey - By Christine Feehan Page 0,128

looking more leopard than human as he moved with his usual fluid grace. They laughed harder as he slammed the door closed and started the car.

“I hope his temper isn’t quite as bad as yours over the subject of men and women being friends,” Bijou said.

He glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Poor woman. You have no idea about that man, do you? You probably are suffering from the illusion that he’s sweet.”

“He is sweet,” Bijou professed.

“Remy has the foulest-tempered leopard of any one of us. And when it comes to you, the way he looks at it is, there are no men who want to be your friends. They’re all rivals.”

Bijou shook her head. “I think you both blame all of your nonsense on leopards.”

Saria burst out laughing again. She nudged her husband. “She has a point there. Remy loves to blame his leopard when he gets all snarly.”

Drake shrugged. “Go ahead, you two, but I notice, neither one of you are putting your money against me. Remy’s going to show up.”

The gallery lights sparkled in the light drizzle, spilling out onto the street along with the music and laughter from inside as they drove up to Arnaud’s showing. Bijou was pleased to see the gallery was packed as expected. Arnaud was world-renowned, his sculptures considered some of the greatest in the modern world.

She spotted her manager and the man that had somehow become his shadow in the crowd, as well as a few of the men she’d recognized as bodyguards at her club. She knew they were leopards. Joshua Tregre and Elijah Lospostos, two men she knew Drake or Remy had assigned to watch over her. As if that wasn’t enough, she spotted two of Remy’s brothers looking elegant in suits, pretending to drink as they mingled with the crowd. There was no pretense about eating, she noted with a small laugh.

Arnaud stood off to the side, a drink in hand, looking more elegant than usual in a black suit and white shirt. He turned as she walked in, lifting his drink in salute, and managing a smile as he came toward them.

He leaned in to brush a kiss against her cheek. “Thank God you’ve come, Bijou. You know how I despise small talk.” He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “You’ve saved me.” Once he had her securely anchored to his side, he smiled at Drake and Saria. “Thank you for bringing her. It was becoming a nightmare. I’m not good with people, just my art, and these shows can be excruciating.”

Drake nodded, frowning a little as Arnaud set down his drink and put his palm over Bijou’s hand. “I can understand. I’m not the best with people either. I like to stay in the background.”

Arnaud turned toward him as if for the first time, Drake had caught his interest. “You’re married to Bijou’s friend,” he said and held out his hand.

“Drake Donovan,” Drake greeted. “My wife, Saria.”

“I’m sorry, Arnaud. We’ve been friends for so long it didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t know Drake and Saria,” Bijou said. “I think I’ve completely forgotten my manners.”

“You’re forgiven as long as you do all the talking tonight and make me look good,” Arnaud replied, once again covering his hand with hers. “I hope you both enjoy yourselves. We have to make the rounds.”

Arnaud didn’t wait for a reply, forgetting all about them as was his way. He walked Bijou over to his latest sculpture, a five-foot waterfall of color and texture that was breathtaking. “What do you think of this piece? They never come out the way I expect. As I’m working they take on a life of their own.”

The piece was titled “Giving Back.” The critics had given the sculpture rave reviews and several had attributed the piece to “what it feels like to fall in love.”

Bijou studied the waterfall from every angle as she knew Arnaud preferred before she answered him. He had actually captured individual drops as well as the feeling of water rushing over a cliff. Looking closely she could see more than the water. Images began to emerge beneath and in the flowing waves of water.

Entranced, she moved closer. The images appeared and disappeared according to the light shining on the sculpture and whichever direction she was looking from. She studied the images, taking her time, knowing Arnaud appreciated a thorough inspection before pronouncing judgment. He stayed very silent as she moved back and forth,

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