Page 19 of Angel

I glanced across the room and caught sight of Jude and Sofia.

Jude had his inked, muscled arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close to his chest.

Sofia rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes closed in sublime joy as they swayed together.

The unfiltered love between them radiated through the crowded room, fierce and brimming with passion.

An ache clogged my throat.

I stared at them, envious, yearning down to my soul for their kind of devotion.

Unlike Angel’s and my own misery that came at the cost of our hearts, underwritten by a runaway bride, a million-dollar blackmail, and a public relations script.

Across the tented ballroom, I locked eyes with Reese, who stood near the arched exit, his pale blue eyes narrowing on us.

He gave an imperious jerk of his chin, signaling his approval at my subservience, before he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows.

Chapter 6

ROXY

The pristine frosting on the lemon-poppy seed five-tier cake sliced apart under our joint grip on the silver knife.

An exuberant cheer went up from the tables as I fed Angel a bite of the sponge.

He returned the gesture for the multitude, leaning down to press a kiss onto my temple.

The flashbulbs and phones went off, capturing the moment.

His arm encircled my waist as the catering servers rolled up to portion out slices to our guests.

As we backed away from the massive, decadent dessert table, we got enveloped by the crowd.

With a sigh, I began accepting congratulations from our guests.

I cringed at most, but I almost lost my composure when Jude’s mum, Maggie, appeared in a stunning blue dress that matched her eyes.

We’d met at Jude and Sofia’s home a few months back and bonded over our shared love for art.

She was the sweetest woman, and I caught the gentle concern in her eyes as I folded into her arms.

‘Jude mentioned the real deal with Evangeline. Stay strong, honey, it shall be well,’ she whispered in my ear as I fought back tears.

She went on to hug Angel as Kian, her handsome silver fox husband, kissed my cheek and squeezed my arm.

Their support gave me the strength to wade on with more felicitations from random acquaintances of my parents.

Most of the men offered Angel tight, respectful nods.

The women, however, stared at us like hawks, their eyes calculating as they swarmed us, desperate to pry any nugget of truth from us.

‘Roxy, darling, you’re freakin’ radiant!’

Blonde, red-lipped, and tight from a recent Botox treatment, Trudy Neams was a high-society doyenne.

Her word held authority when confirming or denying Nashville’s glitterati scandals.

Her bosom strained the silk bodice of her flower-patterned dress as she leaned in close, purring with curiosity and thinly veiled scandal-lust.