Page 43 of Devil’s Promise

My stomach crashes into hard, muscular thighs as the air whooshes from my lungs.

The entire room goes silent.

No one laughs.

No one moves.

I blink, my gaze down, large Italian loafers filling my view.

“Get up, you stupid, useless idiot,” my father hisses, the entire first row surely hearing him.

For a moment I freeze, and then I scramble to get up, knowing that however bad today has been, I just made it worse. The press had already flipped the story from poor Promise, to Promise being the problem.

“Stop,” Angel rumbles close to my ear as his hand at my hip squeezes, pressing me deeper into his lap and then he flips me, like I weigh nothing.

An ooh rises up from the crowd as I’m righted in Angel’s lap, his strong arms coming around me.

And then he stands with me in his arms.

He towers over everyone on the stage, my father included.

Several people take a step back, even my father, but Angel doesn’t look at him. Instead, his gaze holds mine. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head.

“That’s my good girl,” he rumbles softly, but I hear him, as do several others, because cameras start to flash again.

Slowly, he lowers my legs until my stilettos gently touch the floor.

And then he looks away again, his gaze landing on my father and his body hardens away from mine.

Apparently I am not the only one who can turn their feelings on and off. For a moment, we were connected and now…he’s gone again.

My father, his lip curled, steps up to the podium. “The press conference is over. Promise needs her rest for tomorrow.”

Angel grabs me, holding both my arms as he shows me to the door. But this moment isn’t about my protection, I can feel the difference in his touch. It’s cold.

I draw in a shuddering breath as we leave the room.

“When can I take these contacts out?” Axel asks from behind me. “They’re fucking itchy.”

“Not yet,” Angel grits back.

“We need to talk,” my father barks out from the back of the group.

I turn to see who he is speaking with, assuming it’s his campaign manager, but it’s Angel he’s staring at.

Angel nods and lets me go. “Axel.” He waves to his brother. And then he looks at Gunner. “Stay with Promise.” He leans closer. “Remember the signals.”

A long, trembling breath leaves my lips. Because as I watch Angel and my father walk away, their heads bowed together, I know the truth.

Angel isn’t mine, he’s never going to be mine. He was always my father’s.

And I am a fool.

Everyone else disperses, the reporters leaving. Some of them pass me by, giving me long looks, as if they’d like to ask me more questions, but Gunner’s position next to me, coupled with his glare, must deter them.

Finally, it’s just me and Gunner.