Page 92 of Angel

I got lost in memories of the countless orgasms we gave each other, followed by long, passionate kisses and drowsy, full-body skin-to-skin cuddles.

To say I bonded with Roxy in Capri was an understatement.

However, I needed to heal a whole lot more before letting her back in.

My most recent and toxic phone call from Evangeline was still taking up space in my head, and the residual fury over her wedding-day betrayal still gnawed at me.

I owed it to Roxy to process my own emotional baggage before trying to build a true foundation with her.

I wasn’t going to drag my mess into her world.

Especially when Evangeline was relentless, her onslaught continuing as she tried to get my attention.

She sent me messages, which I deleted.

She started blowing up my Instagram DMs and email, with massive paragraphs reminiscing about our former love.

She kept insisting she missed us.

I ignored them all and erased every last one.

Fuck her.

I was done.

I rushed through traffic, cursing as cars threaded in and out of the highway at speed.

Reese and Elsa were descending on my house for dinner.

Earlier in the week, Reese issued an icy mandate through his personal assistant, demanding the meeting and flexing his authority.

I loathed his entitlement and had zero desire to see his mug, yet I was curious why he was so insistent on coming by.

I parked my Defender in the driveway at five o’clock to help Roxy with the heavy lifting.

Roxy was holding it down in the kitchen, roasting a fragrant lemon-herb chicken and asparagus.

I lifted a chin to her, slicing my eyes away from her face, fighting the urge to push her up against the wall and kiss her.

‘Good day?’ she murmured.

‘Busy but manageable,’ I offered, slipping into our current routine of polite chitchat that avoided the roiling emotions beneath.

I set the table and helped with the salad, then we split up to change.

Retreating to my primary bedroom, I showered, then pulled on inky denim trousers and a black button-down shirt.

The doorbell echoed through the house just as I slipped into leather loafers.

‘They’re here,’ Roxy called out from the foyer.

I groaned, rolling my shoulders to ease my tension before fixing my attitude and my face into a neutral mask.

I stepped onto the staircase, pausing when I spotted Roxy opening the door.

She wore a tailored linen jumpsuit, her feet bare against the polished wood.

A sudden, violent jolt hit my ribs at the sight of her under the soft glow of the hallway lights.