Page 23 of Angel

SOPHIE

The day started as hell and increasingly got hotter. After the early morning visit from the cops, I was caught up in rehearsals for a new movie following on from the fireman one.

It’s a lot to deal with knowing the promotional tour planned with Giovanni will happen in his memory now. The studio will be on full damage limitation, and I will play my part in that.

But the show must go on and Frankie decided it would be best to issue a short press release about what a huge loss and a great guy Giovanni was, a close personal friend who will be sadly missed and that whoever perpetrated this heinous crime is brought to justice.

It’s difficult to flip the switch and carry on.

I’m struggling through the day, but more often than I’d like, my thoughts turn to Angel. Last night was unforgettable, not least because a man died while I was having the night of my life. It could have been him in my bed, showering this morning, instead of lying on a slab at the county morgue. I will never forget that. I could have saved his life, and I chose solitude instead.

I wonder how many decisions have drastic consequences like that? Another person’s fate hinges on a decision by somebody else.

I can’t wrap my head around it, and by lunchtime the director takes pity on me.

“We’ll reconvene in the morning. Go home and learn your lines. I’ll see you all at 7am.”

It’s an early start; I should be grateful for that. At least I have something to occupy my time, to distract me from the events last night.

The trouble is, now I have too much time. I’m meant to be learning my lines, but the words blur on the page before me. I can’t concentrate.

My phone buzzes, causing my heart to leap.

Is it him?

I can’t shake his piercing gaze into mine. The way his fingers glided over my skin, the heat between us, the taste of him on my tongue. I clench my thighs, desire flooding through me when it has no right to be here. I am in shock, mourning even, and Angel has no place in my thoughts today.

But he’s been there for some time.

He is a myth in Hollywood, an unsolved mystery. Many people claim to know his identity. The trouble is, there are many ‘Angels’ calling themselves by that name.

Me included. The Wild Angels is an organization that sucks you in with excitement and intrigue. I love getting the call. Never knowing what will be required of me. Anticipation blends with salivation as I rock up at the allotted time.

Last night I met Angel. I’m convinced of that. But how can I be so sure?

The beach house doesn’t suit my mood right now. It’s tainted, so I retreat to the studio penthouse instead. When you earn millions of dollars for every movie you make, houses are a perk of the job. I personally own two in California, one in London and one in New York. I also have a small house in Antigua, one in Rome, and several rentals that live under my property company banner.

Malone Holdings is a nod to my real family. I am building an empire in their memory. Nobody knows about that. Only me and my business advisor, Martin Le Favre. Together we are creating an empire that will provide for me when the stage lights dim and I take my final bow and move away from the spotlight.

I could have gone to my home in Bel Air but Maria, Rosita’s sister, is my housekeeper there and right now I want to be alone.

But it’s hard to focus. I can’t concentrate on anything other than the events of yesterday. One event in particular.

The doorbell rings, catching me off guard. Nobody knows I’m here. Unless… My heart leaps as I anticipate my text may be answered, and my breathing is fast as I answer it.

“Yes.”

The doorman is apologetic. He always is, as if he has no right to disturb me.

“Ma’am, you have a delivery. Would you like me to bring it up?”

“What kind of delivery? I never ordered anything.”

Once again, my heart beats fast because my usual delivery involves some kind of gift from Angel for a job completed.

“Flowers, ma’am. An admirer, perhaps.”

My shoulders relax and I breathe, “Would it be okay with you to bring them up?”