Losing Angeline: London Calling Book Two (13 page)

Angeline remained silent.
 

He pulled open his jacket, bringing forth a small portfolio. Dread pooled inside her, making her feel faint. Not hesitating, he opened the packet and began fanning old photos of Angeline across her desk.

She’d never be able to sit here again, she thought in some distant part of her brain. He’d tainted it for her.

Finally he spoke. “Do you see this? This?” He stabbed his finger at one print after another, pinpointing her face in each of the shots.
 

Miserably, she shook her head, moving it slowly side to side in abject refusal.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Yes, Angela. Look at the way you stared into the camera.
For me
.” He smiled in triumph at her continued damning silence. “You loved me.”

She found her voice. “I thought I did. You made me think I did. You’re right about that.” She felt small drops of blood welling from the gouges her nails had made into her palms. “But make no mistake, Edward. That was then and this is now.”

He stopped gathering the photos back into a stack.
 

“I hate you now. I hate you,” she repeated the words in a low voice. “I despise you. Revile you.”

It was Edward’s turn to blanch. Angeline enjoyed the moment before he reached back into his small portfolio, bringing out more photos.

“Is that so? Are you certain?” He held the pictures pointed away from her, against his chest.

“Yes. Very.”

He spread the prints across the desk; there were a dozen or more. This time, the nausea wouldn’t be contained and Angeline spun in her chair, dry-heaving into her trashcan.
 

Long moments passed, when she thought of all the ways she would kill Edward Pierce. Her life took on a new meaning and purpose in those seconds before she turned back to him.
 

Devon
.
 

Her beautiful daughter, more precious than anything in the world, forever captured by the malignant monster sitting across from her. Unable to contain herself, she scrabbled to gather the photos.

He laughed, letting her have them.
 

“I knew you’d be jealous.”

She stared at him in horror and revulsion, clutching the photos to her breast.
 

“She’s practically the image of you. And they’re so malleable at that age, don’t you agree?”

***

Edward allowed his anger to flow through him. As fear and disgust chased their way across Angela’s face, his rage swelled. She had no right to look down her nose at him as if she were somehow better, more evolved than he. He’d pulled her from the gutters of the Michigan foster system and taught her refinement. Art.
 

As a teen, she’d been practically uncivilized. Like a feral cat, she’d hissed and spat at anyone of authority. He’d breached her defensiveness, defeated the angry sarcasm that kept others beyond arm’s length. She’d blossomed under his tutelage and care, flowering into a lovely woman. She’d been charming, sweet. Innocent.

Now she worked within the world he’d shown her, wearing fine silk suiting and Italian leather heels. She was sophisticated, cultured. Sexy.

She’d left behind the girl he’d made her into to be this. He clenched his hands into fists. She practically vibrated with energy before him, seeming to grow with confidence and determination. Suddenly, he felt smaller somehow.

How dare she?

He’d knock the bitch down a peg. By God, she’d be sorry she ever looked at him as if he was something revolting. He notched his chin up, indicating the photos she still held in a viselike clench.
 

“Those are just copies, you know.”

She backed up a step, then visibly locked her knees. “You’ll give me every copy you own. Plus the negatives.”

He laughed, amused by her false bravado. As she stared at him in white-faced fury, he huffed out a few last chuckles before coming to a stop. “Now Angel, why do you think I’d do that? I’m quite taken with your daughter. She might well be an improvement on you. It’s too bad she has her idiot father’s eyes though. That is a shame.” He tutted the last bit, shaking his head.

“You’ll give them all to me, Edward. Or so help me God, I will kill you.”

“You’ve become prone to violence, Angel. That’s the second time you’ve threatened me. Now who’s the criminal?”
 

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

“I think you’ll let me call you anything I want. Or your daughter will.”

Angela seemed to crumple in front of him, sagging with defeat. “Please, Edward. I’m begging. Leave Devon alone.”

“Angela, I think you’re confused. Of course I’ll leave Devon alone. And I’ll give you every print and negative I own.”

Her head popped up. “You will?”

“Yes.” He would be patient with her. Like most people, she’d never been able to keep up with him. “All you have to do is leave with me. Leave that vulgar man you married and come back to me.” Edward still couldn’t see Sinclair’s appeal. Sinclair had a rough masculinity that Edward found crude. Edward thought Angela had shared his tastes.
 

She would again.

She braced herself against her desk, slightly stooped. While Edward could enjoy her defeat, he had no wish for her to slip into a depression. After all, he was getting what he wanted, as he’d known he would. The words would come from her soon enough. He could afford to be generous.

“Of course, you’re welcome to bring Devon along.” At his words, she shuddered. Certain it was relief, he softened. “Angel, I’m not a monster. In time, she could look to me as a father. She’s young. After a while, she wouldn’t remember a time when we weren’t all together. A family.” Edward smiled. He was warming up to the idea of the child, even if she’d always remind him of Angela’s betrayal with Sinclair.

Edward failed to notice the way Angeline’s hand fisted then flattened out on her desk blotter. Slowly, she drew herself to full height. “I need time,” she said quietly.

“You need time?”

“Yes, Edward. You’ve surprised me.” Her tone turned cajoling and she smiled ruefully. “You’ve had time to plan and anticipate our reunion. Whereas I’ve only found out you’re back again and still want to work things out.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she maintained the smile.
 

“Oh, okay.” He pushed a hand through his hair. Sweat beaded his upper lip, but he manfully ignored it. She was coming around. He could afford to give her some space, but not without a little incentive. “But I do hope you’re planning on joining me. I’d hate to think you’re playing for a way around me.”

“Not at all.” Somehow her smile morphed into something less rueful and more mysterious. “But if we’re going to be together, it’s going to take some planning, you know. I have a life here. A family. Arrangements need to be made. Conversations.”

He tensed. She was throwing her life, and her family, in his face again. “Fine,” he snarled. “Just don’t take too long, or I’ll take matters into my own hands.” He glanced down at the snapshots of her daughter that she’d dropped on the desk earlier. “You wouldn’t like that, Angel.”

She was ashen and trembling. She crossed to the door, opening it in an obvious effort to escort him out. He indulged her, but not before he brushed against her as he stepped over the threshold. A few feet away, her assistant had returned with their coffees.
 

Edward felt surprisingly upbeat. She’d crumbled faster than he anticipated or hoped. Taking his beverage from the young man, he spun back to face her. “Until later.” He raised his cup in a mock toast.

She raised her chin to nod her agreement. Edward, flush with his success, only saw the exquisite beauty she’d grown into from the fresh-faced girl he’d mentored and loved.
 

He couldn’t know or understand the woman Angeline had become. If he had, he’d have noticed the dangerous fury darkening her eyes to pitch.

***

It was late afternoon and already the light was fading as the sun marked its descent. John moved in an easy lope, taking his time as he traversed the familiar sidewalks from his office near the riverfront to Angeline’s museum. Leaving work a bit early, he’d given himself enough time to stop at a nearby shop to buy champagne along with a few late season peaches. The ripe fruit’s juicy scent wafted up from the bag and reminded him, gently but insistently, of summer’s passing.
 

Soon, very soon, Savannah would be treated to autumn’s kinder temperatures. They didn’t get the showy brilliance of fall foliage that northern states did. Rather, the magnolias and live oaks would remain green, sometimes through the winter. If the fall weather cooperated, crepe myrtles would burst forth in shades of orange and scarlet. But mostly, the area retained its colors until winter marched in, dulling the landscape to browns and yellows.

A Midwesterner by birth, he missed the distinct changes the seasons brought there. It formed a cadence—nature reminding everyone of the passing time with its cycles of birth and death.
 

But Angeline was a Southern woman, born and bred. She had no immediate family, as her parents passed away in an accident when she was just out of school. It was before they met, so he liked to believe the familiar landscapes and culture of this region served as a comfort to her when she’d lost so much. Thinking of those losses now, John presumed that was why she’d raised such an objection to more children.
 

Her vehemence had surprised him. Considering her past, though, he should have realized how courageous she’d been to marry him, then start their family. He’d known she craved stability, even though she never stated it outright. But he hadn’t understood the depth of her anxiety about loving then losing anyone else. It was his job to reassure and lessen her fears. He and Devon certainly weren’t going anywhere. In time, he hoped she could relax, have some faith, and trust their happiness.

He couldn’t lie. He hoped to sway her into more children. Because he carried enough confidence for both of them, he also knew he’d never jeopardize Ang’s peace of mind for his own desires. If she wasn’t content, then neither was he.

For today, it was enough to surprise her and hopefully cajole her into leaving a little early from work. He’d spoken to her assistant earlier and was assured he would be there to cover her absence. In fact, Brian had insisted that today would be a good day to treat her. Apparently, she’d had a surprise visitor that morning and she’d seemed upset ever since.
 

Knowing Ang, John figured it was someone who didn’t share her progressive vision. John knew she wanted to honor past artists and works in their museum collections. But they also functioned as a gallery, and for her that meant recruiting emerging talent for showings and sales. Savannah society, while gracious to a fault, could be resistant to what was new. Angeline continued to fight her corner, gaining ground both inside and outside her immediate space.

Like the young artist she’d set up at the hotel so many weeks ago. John knew she’d negotiated that opportunity for him because she couldn’t budge her trustees on the concept of featuring artisan jewelry.
 

Arriving at the museum, he pushed open the door to a blast of air-conditioned comfort. It was cooling off in Savannah, but he breathed the temperature-controlled climate with relief. Angeline’s assistant hurried over to greet him.

“Mr. Sinclair, how are you today?”

John shook his hand. “Fine, Brian. It’s a beautiful day. Can I still steal her or have things gone awry since we spoke?”

“No, no. She’s been in her office practically all afternoon. I hope you can convince her to get outside, maybe tease her out of the doldrums.”

John raised the bag containing the champagne and fragrant peaches. “I hope so too. I have the perfect combination to tempt her.”

Angeline’s assistant eyed him with more than a hint of hero worship. John knew about the other man’s innocent crush on his wife. It would seem John also reaped the benefit of his admiration, simply by being the man Angeline had married. He supposed it had to do with being lucky enough to capture her heart.
 

John grinned, amused with all of them. He tapped two knuckles on her door then turned the knob. Pushing it open a crack, he peered through to see his wife ensconced behind her desk, brows lowered in concentration.

Without looking up, she addressed him. “Brian, you can leave. I’m up to my elbows in this budget report, so feel free to head out. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You are if I can help it.”

Her head popped up and John swore he saw a brief flash of pain cross her face. Concern brought him fully into the room where he sat the grocery bag down on the floor. Stepping around her desk, he reached down to cup her chin.
 

“Do you have a headache?” Concern roughened his voice.

Her forehead smoothed out and she shot him a smile. “Yes. You could definitely call our board chairman that.” She pulled her chin away to glance down at her watch. Her gaze then flicked to the bag sitting in front of her desk. “What are you doing here? Playing hooky?”

“Mm hm. Why don’t you come play with me?”

He had a glimpse of her answering smile before it was gone again. Rubbing her forehead, she looked down at the work in front of her. “I don’t know…”

“I do. It’s a lovely day, Lean.” He motioned her to him. “Come with me.”

She sighed.
 

Once again, he thought he glimpsed something in her eyes before it was gone again. “Please.”

She spread her palms flat on her desk. At his final persuasion, her mouth lifted in rueful acceptance. She stacked the files and ledger in front of her before slipping them into her leather briefcase. As she clicked it shut, John reached out to stay her.

“Leave it. Surely it can wait one day?”

A brief pause, then, “Okay. I’ll leave it here.”

John tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Thank you. Will you walk with me?”

“Yes. I’m all yours this afternoon.”

Leaving the gallery, they crossed the street to their familiar route along the city square park. Late, diluted sunshine softened the air as they strolled amid the magnolias and oaks in silent accord.