Page 110 of Angel

He snapped his fingers, gesturing at two members of his entourage to vacate their seats so Sofia and I could sit next to him.

Up on stage, Angel’s throatiness hit a harsh, gravelly note as his eyes locked onto me, his jaw clenching as he played his guitar.

I gave him a small shrug as his eyes narrowed in warning.

Angel’s chest heaved as he continued singing into the microphone, but I sensed his rasp tighten into a hoarse, grittier cadence.

Senna stood up, making an obvious, grand play of pulling out a chair for me, and I sat.

Senna leaned into my space, his amber cologne washing over me as he placed a bejeweled hand over the back of my seat.

‘What’s your name, beautiful?’ Senna purred, leaning close to press his lips to my cheek.

I shifted my torso back, pressing away from him to dodge his heat-seeking mouth.

‘Roxy,’ I stated, even as Angel’s wrath radiated off the stage in waves.

‘Where’ve you been all my life?’

‘Nowhere you have.’

My blinding crush on the man he used to be was dying a fast death.

‘Most times I don’t have time for minor acts to mine, but you made this whole front row worth my time, darling,’ Senna crooned.

I prickled.

‘Minor? I don’t think so. I’ll have you know that my husband is the guy singing his heart out up there,’ I clipped.

‘Didn’t know, don’t care. All I’m interested in is you because you remind me of someone,’ Senna growled.

‘Who?’

‘My first wife, Fi, she was my truest love.’

‘Is that right?’

He whipped out his wallet and shoved it in my face.

In the clear plastic photo sleeve was a picture of him at the height of his glory days.

He appeared younger, leaner, handsome, grinning with a woman who I had to admit resembled me a little.

‘She’s beautiful.’

‘She was,’ he muttered, his face darkening. ‘She OD’d not long after we took this picture. Every time I see it, its fucking haunting.’

I sensed a well of deep sorrow in him, perhaps the source of his brokenness.

‘I’m sorry to hear.’

‘She’s the reason I wrote Fiona’s Curse,’ he went on, referencing one of his lesser-known songs. ‘Your man is lucky to have you.’

Senna glanced at Angel, and the pair locked eyes.

Seconds later, the older man scoffed and turned his attention to me.

‘A stunning girl like you shouldn’t waste her nights tucked away in the shadow of a garage band,’ he intoned, reaching out to stroke my bare arm.