Page 91 of Angel

The moving crew packed my canvases into specialized boxes, and by nightfall, they littered Angel’s spacious living room.

I spent the next three days scattering my oil paintings and charcoal sketches throughout his hallways with his blessing.

I hung a vibrant abstract landscape above his marble fireplace, adding a splash of natural greens, creams, and gold to the room.

Angel walked through the front door after work one day, pausing to study the transformation.

‘Looks amazing, Rox.’

A surge of relief washed over me, melting a fraction of my lingering doubt.

‘With me,’ he rasped unexpectedly.

He led me down the lower-level stairs past a half-open soundproofed door, revealing his state-of-the-art home recording studio packed with vintage guitars and mixing consoles.

Then, he unlatched a second door adjacent to his studio.

‘This is for you,’ he announced, gesturing inside.

I stepped into a sprawling den featuring a magnificent, floor-to-ceiling view of the stunning backyard garden.

The afternoon light flooded the room, highlighting a brand-new wooden easel and a massive table packed with art supplies.

I’d noticed him coming into the house the last few evenings, with bulky packages in hand.

I never thought to ask him why.

‘You converted your spare room into my personal art space? For me?’

My jaw dropped, my heart doing ridiculous backflips.

I had never had enough square footage for a proper studio, always cramming my canvases into tiny living and bedroom corners.

‘Are you for real right now?’ I gasped, my eyes stinging with sudden tears. ‘Angel, this is perfect.’

‘You need room to create, Roxy,’ he said, a genuine smile softening his rugged face. ‘Now we can both make our beautiful craft down here together.’

I sensed the room was his penance, his attempt to appease me further and smooth the friction after Capri.

I tilted my head, studying him. ‘Thank you.’

His eyes flickered with a semblance of relief. ‘You’re welcome.’

ANGEL

Returning to Nashville was a massive switch in routine, forcing me out of my laid-back holiday mood and into a relentless 24/7 grind.

I cleared my inbox, which was full of emails from Mason, our label execs, my accountant, and even my lawyers.

I hammered out brutal practice schedules with my Six Sinners brothers, and spent mind-numbing hours finalizing my annual tax with Tori, my financial advisor.

Through all the noise, my brain kept circling back to Roxy, and every time, an immense rush of affection hit my chest.

I liked her, a lot.

We shared deep conversations, had similar preferences and interests, and even better, the sex between us had been out of this world.

Hell, explosive and euphoric never came close to defining how well we fit together, and not just once, but multiple times.