Losing Angeline: London Calling Book Two Read Online Free Page A

close eye on her. They were constantly watching, making sure she stayed within the boundaries of the cages they built for her. Shifting on her feet, she’d stepped into a dip in the pavement, and her white socks soaked up the dirty water where it seeped through her shoes.
    A hand touched her on the arm, interrupting her dark reverie. Startling, she turned to face her husband.  
    “See something you like?”  
    John’s deep voice brought her back into the warmth and light. She absently chafed her arms. Running her eyes over him, she smiled crookedly. “Why yes, sir. I think I do.” She stepped nearer to his bulk, craving the security and stability he represented.
    “I’d suggest we leave and go see about some real food.” He raised the small china plate he carried for emphasis. It contained a bite-sized mini quiche, a crab wonton, and a lone meatball. “But I can see you’re in your element here. I’ll try to bribe that waiter over there,” he tilted his chin in the direction of a young man carrying a silver tray of filled champagne flutes, “to get us some shrimp cocktail from downstairs.”
    John was the best thing to ever come into her lonely and damaged life. And he’d given her Devon, the daughter that lit each day with her sunny smile and gurgling laughter. She would never do or say anything to change how John saw her. He’d given her everything. She’d make sure he always saw her as shining and whole, a source of pride to him.  
    “Mm. Sounds delicious,” she answered. “And later, we’ll sneak downstairs for some prime filet and dauphinoise potatoes.” She patted John on the chest before reaching up to briefly kiss the corner of his mouth. She darted her tongue out to lightly taste but danced away before he could press her closer. “After all, I want you to keep your strength up for later.”
    He laughed, as she intended. “Oh, you can count on that, sweetheart. Now go do your duty so I can whisk you away.” He patted her lightly on the bottom.  
    Angeline mingled back into the crowd, drifting through the people with effortless grace. Her gaze touched on a well-known local politician who was currently running for governor of Georgia. A frown creased her forehead and she took an automatic step backward, stopping herself before she bumped into a table of displayed jewelry.
    She hadn’t expected to see someone like that at a small, private gathering like this. She was very careful around high-profile personalities, as the press was usually close at hand. Although it had been years, more than a decade, since she’d rebuilt her life, she still exercised strict caution over her privacy. Especially since her daughter was born and she’d embraced the terror of what that responsibility meant for her.
    A flash burst, and she looked over to see the man shaking hands with her curator. She started to turn, but her employer caught her eye.
    He waved her to join them while walking in her direction. The cameraman and journalist closely followed. There was no way around it; she would have to formally meet the man. She scanned the crowd, instinctively searching John out. Something in her expression must have alerted him because he excused himself from the group he was standing with and started making his way toward her.
    Fixing a smile to her face, she stepped forward to meet the politician. She carefully angled her body so only her profile would appear in any shot taken from where the photographer was standing. As his hand closed around hers, the camera flashed once and then once again. None of the panic ricocheting inside showed on her face; she kept her expression as serenely blank as possible.
    Seconds later, John joined the group. He greeted the curator, simultaneously making their apologies. “Unfortunately, we’ll have to leave you to it. The sitter just called and our daughter is missing us.”  
    Angeline caught John’s gaze and realized he was making the story up in an effort to rescue her.