Page 30 of Angel

We arrived at my condo complex on the edge of the city.

Years ago, Reese bought Evangeline a three-story brick townhouse for her twentieth birthday, but he never contributed a single dime toward one for me or my rent.

I relied on my minuscule gallery salary and art commissions to survive.

All I could afford was a small, cramped apartment, one that Angel had never in.

A fresh wave of panic rolled over me as he parked in the visitor’s spot and followed me without a word to the elevator.

It was silence all the way up the lift, and at my door, I fumbled for my keys, unlocked it, and led him into my cramped one-bedder.

My art canvases, framed sketches, and stacked portfolios covered most of the surfaces inside.

Angel paused in the center of the room, his smoky eyes scanning around.

‘Sorry for the mess,’ I muttered. ‘I wasn’t expecting company.’

He leaned on the counter, his massive frame making the small kitchen seem like a dollhouse.

Red-faced with embarrassment, I scrambled across the rug to snatch a pair of stray control tights and a pink lace bra off the sofa, throwing them into the laundry.

I bolted into the kitchen and began stashing a pile of dirty breakfast dishes into the dishwasher in a poor attempt to hide the evidence of my chaotic start to the day.

To my surprise, Angel took off his tux jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and pitched in.

‘Get your bags packed, Rox,’ he growled, his deep voice leaving no room for argument. ‘Go. I’ll finish the clean up here.’

I stood frozen for a second, as his calloused hands packed away a stray coffee mug.

When I left this apartment that morning, I was a bridesmaid; now I was the bride, with my rockstar husband doing my chores.

The surrealness of the moment was beyond words, a plot twist I never saw coming.

I turned toward my bedroom to pack, pausing at the doorway to flick a glance at Angel.

His broad, sinewy shoulders stretched the fabric of his tailored shirt as he worked; his unruly black hair fell over his temple.

His eyes, weary and hardened with sorrow, were cast down to the sink as he rinsed a plate.

Never had he seemed more handsome, brooding, and out of my reach.

Biting my lip, I sighed and headed to my bedroom.

I peeled off Evangeline’s suffocating silk gown, abandoning it on the floor.

In my bathroom, I scrubbed my makeup off, leaving my face bare.

After freshening up, I slid into faded denim jeans, a plain cotton tee, sockettes, and my favorite leather sneakers.

Opening my cupboard, I grabbed a handful of hangers and began throwing clothes into my suitcase.

I checked off a mental list as I packed for a summer honeymoon that felt more like a sentence than a holiday.

I folded lightweight, breathable tees, linen shirts, and shorts.

Then I added a sleek silk slip dress, a pair of killer heels for the evenings, and a gorgeous blazer for cool nights.

If we ever got around to a dinner out.