Chapter 26
ANGEL
Istood with Deacon in the backstage corridor of the gala venue, the muffled music from the ballroom orchestra emanating through the walls.
‘From the moment I met her, I promised Evangeline I’d never leave her alone,’ I said, rubbing the back of my neck.
‘Mate,’ Deacon drawled, leaning his tall frame against an equipment case. ‘Major promise.’
‘However, I was misguided, and now I’ve learned my lesson,’ I muttered. ‘She’s toxic, a hot dumpster fire.’
Deacon crossed his arms, waiting for the rest.
‘I was never in love with her,’ I confessed, the realization slamming into my chest. ‘I was obsessed. Just as she’s an addict to alcohol and substances, I was addicted to her. I’m now off her, going cold turkey. Never again.’
‘Good,’ Deacon said, his eyes drilling into mine. ‘Because you’ve got a queen at home.’
‘Never would have thought how much Roxy means to me,’ I growled. ‘It’s been challenging, though, letting her into my heart. Evangeline has also been a fuckin’ stress to deal with, so I neglected to give Roxy the attention or care she deserves these last few weeks.’
‘That’s it, brother,’ Deacon replied, slapping my shoulder. ‘The most important choice of your life is your woman. I think Roxy’s a gem. Don’t lose her shine because of you and your ex’s poor choices.’
‘I hear you,’ I growled. ‘I’ve got to find my wife, mate. Thanks for the gee-up.’
I strode away, scanning the crowded gala ballroom, the VIP lounges, and the marble corridors, but she was nowhere to be found.
Panic began to claw at me as I raced through the venue.
I spotted Bluey, our sound lead.
I stalked up to him, and when he saw me, he shot me a grin.
‘Hey man,’ I greeted him with clasped hands and a side hug. ‘Any chance you’ve seen my wife, Roxy?’
He pursed his lips, thought, then nodded. ‘Fact, I did. Saw her rushing from here and into an Uber a few minutes ago.’
The hell? She left without telling me? Why?
‘Thanks, man,’ I gritted out, striding away, reaching for my phone to call her, as worry gnawed at me.
I lifted the device to my ear and waited for an answer.
She didn’t pick up. Damn.
I shot her a text.
Angel: Where are you, Rox?
I got nada in response.
That’s when I remembered she’d seemed out of sorts, a little pale and sweaty that night.
I decided to dip out of the venue and drive back to Bellmont-Hillsboro; perhaps she took herself home, not feeling well.
I was heading to the entrance leading to the parking lot when a familiar silhouette caught my attention near the freight elevator.
Evangeline.
She stood leaning against a stack of equipment crates, giggling to herself.
My blood boiled.
The realization that she must have escaped my secure townhouse and bypassed my security detail made me livid.
I marched over, grabbed her elbow with firm pressure, and steered her down the exit.
‘Let go of me, Angel!’ she shrieked, stumbling over her feet as I dragged her forward past parked cars and trucks in the lot. ‘You’re hurting my arm!’
‘Get in the truck, Evangeline,’ I growled, throwing open the passenger door of my Defender. ‘Now.’
‘You’re being a caveman,’ she muttered, collapsing onto the leather seat.
‘How the hell did you know where I was?’ I grunted as I sat behind the wheel and fired up the engine.
‘It was on the news, on TV,’ she mumbled, giggling, high on some shit.
I cursed, racing out of the venue and into traffic.
‘I’m taking you back,’ I rasped, my jaw tight with exasperation.
I’d drop Evangeline, then head home to find out how Roxy was.
She still hadn’t returned my call, which was vexing me no end.
When we got to the townhouse, I used my all-access card, opened the door, and shoved her through.
The burly Eastern European security guard I hired appeared, his name tag reading Pacek.
‘Sorry boss. She slipped out when I went to the bathroom.’
‘Anyone fucking care to raise an alarm and let me know?’ I growled as I prowled behind Evangeline towards the living room.
Pacek shrugged.
‘Figured she went for a walk and would be back soon.’
‘Mate, never assume when it comes to her.’
He took my gritted rebuke with a chin raise and exited, giving us privacy.
Evangeline was over to the marble bar pouring a massive glass of amber scotch.
She spun to me with a smug, glassy-eyed smirk.
‘I bumped into your little wife tonight,’ she sneered, swaggering. ‘I told her where to go.’
Rage surged through my veins.
‘You spoke to Roxy?’ I growled.
‘Yeah, I told her that you and I are meant to be. I might have mentioned other things, but I can’t remember.’
She slugged the drink and wandered away giggling.
I groaned, tamping down the urge to strangle Evangeline.
Pulling my phone from my tux pocket, I tried Roxy’s number again, but it went to voicemail. Dread hit me.
What had Evangeline said? What venom had she poured into my wife’s ear?
I eyed my former fiancée with pure fury as she slumped into an armchair, getting even more drunk with every second.
With a curse, I dialed Reese’s publicist, Di.
‘Angel?’ the woman answered, her voice competing with the gala chatter in the background. ‘Where did you and Roxy disappear to? The photographers are looking for you.’
‘Listen to me,’ I barked. ‘Evangeline is at my downtown townhouse. She’s unstable, and her drug dealer boyfriend is hunting her down.’
An intake of breath came over the line.
‘What?’
‘She’s also high as a kite, so you need to ring around right now and get her help,’ I growled. ‘Get your butt over here and fix this. Sending you the address now.’
A half hour later, the electronic lock chimed.
Di burst through the front door, her evening gown rustling as her eyes darted between Evangeline and me.
My ex lay sprawled on the sofa, off her head and singing to herself.
‘Oh, sweet mercy,’ the PR spin queen whispered, pulling her phone back out. ‘I’m making calls now.’
Di paced the hardwood floor, speaking in urgent, hushed tones to her high-level contacts.
Soon after, the townhouse doorbell rang.
I opened it to find a man in a suit standing on the mat, flanked by two uniformed medics.
‘Mr. Forrest,’ the stranger said, nodding once and revealing his badge while eyeing Pacek with wariness. ‘My name is Colin Parsons, and I’m the admitting director at Sens Private Rehab in Nashville. We received a briefing from Miss Di Montcliffe and Mr Rosedale.’
It seemed Reese had pulled favors to protect Evangeline again.
‘We’ll take Miss Rosedale with us and move her to our secure facility for her own safety.’
With a grim nod, I stepped aside to let them in.
Evangeline flipped her hair, attempting to flirt with one of the medics in front of me as if to spark jealousy in me.
I just shook my head at her, filled with a profound pity for her.
With an inhale, I turned on my heel and grabbed my keys from the counter.
‘She’s all yours, Di,’ I said, pausing at the threshold. ‘I’m done, and out, for good. Close the door after you.’
I strode out into the humid night air and to my truck, ripping away from the building with only one mission left in my soul: finding my wife.
I tore back to my house, tires screeching as I ripped up the asphalt driveway.
I bolted through the front door, yelling Roxy’s name, but the silence was deafening.
I ran to her bedroom, but her bags were gone, and so was her ID.
Fuck.
I raced to the art studio and found that most of her recent works in progress, along with her paints and easels, were also missing.
Her car wasn’t in the garage, and as I sped back to check the pool house, I passed the kitchen.
My chest seized when I spotted something on the counter.
The glowing ceiling lamp lit the quartz island, where two items sat.
One of them glinted as I slowed my roll and strode over.
I groaned at the sight of her rose diamond ring sitting on top of the marble counter.
Next to the ice lay a crisp sheet of paper.
My vision blurred as I scanned the text.
It’s clear Evangeline is still your priority, so I’m going to step out of your way. Let’s part ways here. Don’t try to contact me. Please respect my wishes on this. I’m done. I’ll sign the papers for our divorce as soon as you’re ready.
The final sentence wrecked me.
‘Fuckinhell!’ I roared, scrunching up and flinging the note away from me.
I stalked out of the house, slid into my Defender, and sped toward her old downtown apartment, pushing the truck to its limit.
When I pulled up, her building was dark.
Her designated parking slot was empty, and no lights glowed behind her third-floor windows.
I rang her bell a couple of times but got no answer.
Where the hell was she?
I got back in my ride and sat in it, mind racing.
I thought about calling her stepmother Elsa, but I nixed the idea fast.
That move would loop Reese into the mix.
Given my father-in-law’s ongoing threats, I couldn’t risk him flexing his legal and business muscles and sabotaging us further.
So where the hell was she?
Roxy was my entire world.
My life wasn’t worth living if I couldn’t be with her.
I called her phone, my hand shaking as the line rang out until the automated voicemail kicked in.
I hung up, cursing.
Deacon’s name flashed on my dashboard screen a minute later, his voice coming through the speakers.
‘You find Rox, mate?’
‘Nah. I fucked up. Evangeline escaped her detail,’ I rasped, rubbing my throbbing forehead. ‘She cornered Roxy at the venue. Now Roxy’s ghosted me, hell, taking all her shit and leaving her wedding ring on the kitchen bench. She also left a note; in essence she doesn’t want to see me.’
‘Man, that’s messed up,’ Deacon sighed.
‘I’m losing my freakin’ mind,’ I snarled. ‘I’ve no clue what toxic garbage Evangeline fed her.’
‘Let things chill for at least a few weeks,’ Deacon counseled. ‘Give her time to breathe, then try hitting her up again.’
‘I can’t just sit on my hands,’ I muttered. ‘I have to talk it out with her.’
‘Mate, if she’s asked for space, give it to her.’
‘Noted, but I still need to know where she is.’
We hung up, and I fired off an encrypted text to Amos, the Waring Partners’ investigator.
Angel: Mate, my wife, Roxy Rosedale Forrest, is missing. Please find her. Keep it low-key. Don’t approach her, but let me know when you locate her.
I tried Roxy’s mobile one last time, but it went straight to voicemail.
I drove home, defeated.
Grabbing a snifter of whiskey, I slumped into a chair beside my pool, staring into the night sky.
The lack of clarity around why Roxy left me and where she was ate at me, causing the deepest agony.
My ex must have spilled pure venom, making Roxy think we were hooking up.
Torment, worse than that of Evangeline leaving me, washed over me as my soul struggled with being blindsided by yet another Rosedale sister walking out on me.
I stayed awake for hours, sitting under the stars, shattered by the emptiness in my home without her.
Roxy’s absence was so palpable that an acute itch surfaced from deep within me, tempting me to finish the whiskey bottle off or find relief in drugs to numb the pain.
No, I told myself, clenching my fists. I would not break down over this.
I moved into the living room, turned on a mindless TV show, and lay on the sofa, my heart and mind churning, replaying every moment of our marriage.
I even dug out my phone and scrolled through the photos we took in Capri, tracing the images, realizing, despite being jilted, how happy and carefree I was then with Roxy.
I fell into restless naps only to wake half an hour later, with her name on my lips.
Damn you, Roxy, where are you?
When dawn’s light finally filtered through the oak trees, I forced my weary, shaky body to stand.
Prowling into the kitchen, I whipped up a massive plate of eggs.
After eating, I dragged the gas mower out of the garage shed.
I spent three hours shredding the backyard turf, using the roar of the engine to drown out the living hell inside my soul.