Page 35 of Angel

We arrived at the pier, where Paolo opened our doors.

‘Your boat waits,’ the driver announced as Angel stepped out, taking my hand to steady my footing.

We walked down the wooden ramp to greet our boat pilot, a cheery Italian man named Vinni.

When Angel let go of me, I was hit with a pang of need, wanting to slide my arms around his waist and lift my face to his for a lingering kiss.

As most lovers on a honeymoon would.

With a sigh, I tamped down the fantasy as we loaded up.

In no time, the private speedboat was slicing across the Gulf of Naples toward our final destination.

The twin engines roared beneath the fiberglass hull, sending a fine spray of salty mist over the windshield as we cleared the harbor.

Awestruck, I stared as the magnificent Italian coastline opened up before us.

Behind us, massive, towering limestone cliffs rose straight out of the churning turquoise water, their craggy faces dotted with ancient, pastel-colored villas clinging to the sheer rock.

Clusters of vibrant purple bougainvillea spilled over stone terraces, contrasting with the deep green of Mediterranean pines.

Farther out, the Amalfi peninsula shimmered under the bright morning sun.

I stood in the companionway, clinging to the steel handrail, captivated by the breathtaking vista, my short hair whipping around my face.

Angel sat in the stern.

His muscled biceps spread out on either side of the seat, one ankle crossed over his thigh.

His hair blew in the wind, and he resembled a GQ model, his mirrored aviators masking his eyes, his handsome face in a closed-off, inscrutable expression.

Unable to help myself, I leaned closer to him and called out.

‘This place is unbelievable, don’t you think?’

Without a word, he stiffened and moved his sinewy arms, crossing them over his broad chest, and canted his face from me.

A rush of irritation hit me like a splash of ice water.

I was in this mess just as much as he was.

Without thinking, I stepped toward him.

He arched a brow underneath his lenses at my approach.

I leaned in, bracing one hand against the boat railing for balance.

‘Angel, please hear me out. I know you weren’t keen to marry me, and you’re pissed at my sister, but we were both forced into this. The important word is we, so I don’t deserve your surliness, and I won’t be taking the heat while you work out your troubles with Evangeline.’

Angel’s jaw clenched into a hard line.

‘You think I’m burning you?’

‘You’re salty, tight, and giving resting murder face,’ I shot back. ‘If you’ve got issues, take them up with Evangeline or Reese.’

He scoffed. ‘I haven’t flamed you, and I don’t plan to.’

‘Good.’