Chapter 5
ROXY
My body shook, riddled with anxiety.
In a freakin’ ironic twist of fate, Angel Daniel Forrest sat beside me as my husband at our wedding reception; stricken, brooding, and shattered to the very core.
Glancing at his slumped shoulders, a fierce ache bloomed in my chest.
He seemed to be in so much pain, locked in shock.
I wanted nothing more than to take his hand in mine, hold him close, and kiss away his sorrow.
However, those were just wild, dangerous fantasies.
So I clenched my fists in my lap instead, and fidgeted in Evangeline’s bridal dress that scarcely fit me, tamping the desire back down into the recesses of my soul.
Angel’s eyes were hooded over, hand to his chin, his body present, but his mind was miles away, his heart grieving and torn in two.
He’d scarcely spoken since Reese’s decree, except to grunt his vows during the ceremony, which unfolded as a blur on the lakefront.
Hell, his heart still belonged to the Jezebel who dumped him hours earlier.
To my sibling, my lifelong bully, and the ultimate queen of betrayal.
‘How are you, honey?’
Marnie, Angel’s sister, sat to my left, acting as my unofficial maid of honor.
She was doing an incredible job of keeping me sane, checking on me every so often.
‘I’m good,’ I told her, managing a weak smile.
She squeezed my arm, topped up my water glass, and settled back into her seat.
Her eyes flicked between Angel and me, tracking the tension before scanning the long table.
To Angel’s right, the rest of the Six Sinners band, his groomsmen, kept up appearances, chatting in hushed tones while picking at their food.
My bridesmaids, most of them Evangeline’s friends, cast nervous, hesitant glances at Angel and me.
I forced a tight smile onto my face, ignoring the swelling panic and ache in my chest.
We’d maintained a strict lid on the narrative per Reese’s orders, a decision I hated because silence only fueled the rumor mill.
Now, gossip, conjecture, and relentless morbid curiosity swept through the room like wildfire.
Outside, the sun beat down on the billowing canvas of the wedding tent.
Inside, high-powered industrial air units blasted sub-zero air, keeping the atmosphere chilled.
As for me, I was icy and brittle on the inside, shivering to my bones.
Trying to take my mind off my misery, I focused on the decor instead.
Evangeline’s design made the space resemble an ethereal indoor forest.
Wisteria vines wept from the iron rafters, their lavender blossoms brushing against suspended crystal globes that held flickering tea lights.
Three hundred chairs wrapped in ivory silk surrounded tables laden with silver, hand-painted porcelain, and massive arrangements of white hydrangeas.
Uniformed servers moved down the aisles, balancing trays of truffle-infused arancini, braised wagyu beef tartare on crostini, and chilled lobster tail skewers.
The wealthiest dynasties in Tennessee filled the seats.
The Caldwells, who controlled the local banking sector, whispered to the Eastford heirs, scions of a brewing empire.
They mingled with a few Saudi princes, a slew of dot-com-wealthy investors, and a Lord and Lady or two from our English side of the family.
Plus a few local business-people, acquaintances of Reese, who fawned over the Six Sinners and presented their cards to them with aplomb, as if expecting the band to recognize their names.
The reception was a masterclass in high-society fakery, and I played my part to perfection, hiding my internal panic.
I had no idea how my night, heck, my life, was going to play out.
The MC tapped the microphone, the sound slicing through the chatter.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, please clear the floor for the bride and groom’s first waltz.’
My breath hitched, and I froze, clutching the armrest of my chair.
The ivory gown squeezed my ribs, making it hard for me to breathe, its silk straining against my curves.
Angel glanced at me; I sensed the scorch of his gaze.
Still, I kept my eyes on the table, my cheeks heating because there was no way he’d want to dance with me.
With a soft grunt, he leaned in to me.
‘May I?’
My eyes flew to his face.
Was he for real?
I blinked as our gazes locked, then his lips quirked, softening his hardened, sculpted features.
Sorrow and grief still emanated from deep within his soul, but he nodded.
‘We can do this,’ he rasped, flicking a glance to all the eager and waiting eyes gazing at us.
He stood and extended a hand to me, as our guests clapped and cheered.
I was oblivious to all of it as I put my hand in his, shivering at the heat of his palm.
‘Shall we?’ he rasped.
I nodded, and he led me to the dance floor.
He walked us to the DJ first, leaning in to growl at the nonplussed man.
‘The fuck I’m going with Evangeline’s choice, Monica’s ‘Angel of Mine’. Please, mate, play Robbie Williams ‘Angels’ instead.’
He then led me to the middle of the floor.
There was a dramatic pause as we took center stage.
Grief still emanated from deep within his soul, but he pasted a blinding smile onto his handsome face, hiding the agony in his eyes.
‘Let’s blow them away, Rox,’ he added.
His arm around my waist pulled me closer, and for the first time in my life, I found myself molded to his tall, sinewy, muscled frame.
My brain almost short-circuited.
As Angel’s calloused hand settled against the small of my back, a jolt of pure electricity shot straight up my spine, leaving me breathless.
The heat of his palm burned through the satin of my wedding dress, and I shivered at the sear.
Up close, the sheer proximity of him made my head spin.
He towered over me, devastatingly handsome in his custom charcoal wool suit, accented by a black silk tie.
His inky beard, trimmed and neat, framed his lush lips.
The thin fabric of his shirt did nothing to hide the broad, solid muscle of his chest and shoulders.
We locked gazes as the music began.
I caught the unfiltered pain in his face as the opening notes echoed through the hall.
Credit to him, he guided me with ease, gliding and moving across the polished wood with effortless grace.
Oh my, this was actually happening.
I panicked, my heart hammering with such violence that I got terrified he felt it.
Don’t trip. Whatever you do, don’t fall or stumble.
I was in his arms like I’d always dreamed.
After twenty years of living on the sidelines of a fairytale romance, I was finally the one he was holding as his bride.
As we danced, I wondered how the hell Evangeline had taken him for granted.
He’d given her a dream life, and she’d thrown it all away; the flashbulbs, the rockstar lifestyle, and the black-card luxury she was all about.
However, that all meant nothing to me.
I cared little about Angel’s fame, his money, or influence, with zero desire for the glitz and glam; I just yearned for the soul I fell in love with years ago.
The words of the song surged through the speakers.
The lyrics, about angels offering salvation, struck him like a blow; I felt every shudder and caught the gritting of his teeth.
Angel’s lips twisted, and my heart ached for him as his eyes, hard and cold, told me of the torture he was going through.
Every instinct screamed at me to melt right into his chest, to bury my face in the crook of his neck and soothe the raging ache I imagined surging inside him.
Yet beneath the rush of adrenaline and longing, my cruel inner voice hit me with the crushing truth.
I was not his beloved, and I’d probably never be.
He was performing a duty, saving face in front of the cameras and the crowd, while his soul remained trapped with the woman who got away.
I was the substitute bride, the ‘never’ choice.
The realization made me jolt, intoxicated by his touch yet terrified of how much I wanted a man whose heart was breaking for someone else.
Ever the masterful showman, Angel kept his steps smooth and flawless as we endured the song.
For a split second, as he spun me at the end of the song, I swooned in his arms, letting myself believe the fairy tale.
The illusion shattered the moment the final chord faded.
The guests erupted into loud cheering as I curtsied and Angel gave me a stiff chin jerk.
He led me back to the bridal table, but the moment we cleared the dance floor, Angel’s hands dropped from me.
He sank back into his chair on the dais and retreated into his own mind.
His jaw set back into a hard line as he whirled and stared into his tumbler of whiskey.
‘Beautiful dance,’ Marnie whispered to me as I sat and the guests flooded the dance floor, the tempo of the music picking up.
‘Thank you, we survived it,’ I half-laughed, plastering on a smile and nodding to friends and family as they danced on.
Later in the evening, the band slowed the pace to a soulful ballad.
I glanced across the room and caught sight of Jude and Sofia.
Jude had his inked, muscled arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close to his chest.
Sofia rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes closed in sublime joy as they swayed together.
The unfiltered love between them radiated through the crowded room, fierce and brimming with passion.
An ache clogged my throat.
I stared at them, envious, yearning down to my soul for their kind of devotion.
Unlike Angel’s and my own misery that came at the cost of our hearts, underwritten by a runaway bride, a million-dollar blackmail, and a public relations script.
Across the tented ballroom, I locked eyes with Reese, who stood near the arched exit, his pale blue eyes narrowing on us.
He gave an imperious jerk of his chin, signaling his approval at my subservience, before he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows.