Page 65 of Angel

That’s when I sensed the heated gaze on me and turned my head to find Angel’s eyes on me, his head tilted.

He was studying me with such intensity that I blushed.

We locked eyes for a beat until he sliced his eyes away, leaving me flushed and hot as a wave of desire flooded me.

Damn.

I eyed Angel with surreptitious glances as he sat across from me, his eyes on the view, mine on him, yearning.

His rugged jawline and broad shoulders rendered him devastatingly attractive.

Why did he have to be built like a literal Greek god?

I escaped to my room minutes later with the excuse of getting sleepy.

When in truth, I was escaping the magnetic pull of his gravitas.

Terrified that if I stayed under his gaze for one more second, he’d see right through me and realize just how much I wanted him.

Angel was relaxing into the holiday now.

At breakfast the next morning, he seemed calmer as he outlined the plan for a full day of exploration with Carlo.

‘Can’t waste the days we have left, Roxy,’ he stated with a lazy grin. ‘I told Carlo to prep the speedboat. Grab your swimsuit; we’re going to explore the fuck out of this paradise.’

I hurried to my suite, my thoughts spinning in a dizzying loop of excitement and mild terror at my surging emotion for him.

I strapped into my emerald bikini and threw a white linen button-down shirt over it.

All the while, I wondered if I had the emotional stamina to survive a day of Angel’s sudden, devastating charm.

Because if he turned it on as he’d done in the past, it’d make me weak as putty.

Mrs. Campanelli had a picnic hamper ready for us when I came downstairs.

‘Everything you need for a perfect day on the water,’ she declared, patting the woven lid. ‘I packed marinated artichokes, prosciutto di Parma, fresh burrata, bread rolls, sun-ripened tomatoes, and a crisp white wine. Plus plenty of snacks. Don’t let him eat it all, Roxy.’

Angel reached to lift the basket with one hand, his arm muscles flexing.

‘No promises, Mrs. C. Grazie.’

After kissing her on the cheek, I followed Angel as we walked to the marina where we met Carlo.

We set sail from the docks, the twin outboard motors roaring as the fiberglass hull sliced across the turquoise waves toward our first destination, the Bagni della Regina Giovanna.

Carlo steered the vessel with precision, while proving himself a goldmine of local trivia.

‘Look along the cliffs, signora,’ Carlo shouted over the spray of the surf, pointing a sun-browned finger at the limestone ridges. ‘Those ancient stone watchtowers defended our shores from brutal attacks by the Turks and the Greeks.’

‘Did people live up on those sheer drops?’ I asked, gripping the polished chrome handrail.

‘During the Roman Empire, the reclusive Emperor Tiberius constructed twelve massive villas across these peaks,’ Carlo explained, spinning the steering wheel. ‘He hopscotched around the island because of his manic paranoia of assassination.’

Angel pursed his lips, leaning his muscular forearms on the captain’s console.

‘His security detail failed him, right?’

‘Si, signore,’ Carlo confirmed with a grin. ‘Tiberius got smothered to death in his bed, producing rousing roars of celebration from the Roman citizenry. After his empire collapsed, bloodthirsty pirates ransacked Capri, burning the villages.’