Page 7 of His Angel

“Shhh. Just focus on breathing.”

“Anthony,” my gaze latches on to his, “what are they trying to do us?”

He shifts, easing me upright, and brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch tender, protective. “I dunno. But it won’t work.”

“Michele…he?—”

“I won’t let Michele do anything to us. Especially you. Understand?”

“He’ll find a way to force us into this.”

“Listen to me.” He frames my face with his palms, irises flashing with fierce intensity. “I promise you I will not let him force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“But how do we fight him? Michele always gets what he wants.”

“Not when it comes to you and me. Michele needs my family more than we need him. And my dad promised my mom before she died that he’ll never force me to marry, which means Michele can’t do shit about it.” Tenderly, he wipes a tear with his thumb. “The only way I’ll ever agree to marrying you is if it’s whatyouwant.”

“WhatIwant?” My heart races as I study him. “You’re saying you’ll marry me?”

The corners of his mouth tug up into a sly smile. “Somehow, whenever I think of getting married, I always imagine it’ll be you.”

“Me?” I echo, a reserved shock fluttering against my rib cage.

“Crazy, right?”

My chest’s steadier now, the wheezing faded to a faint rasp, but my heart’s pounding for a whole new reason, and I study the line of his jaw, the way his bright eyes soften, unguarded for once.

“You’re serious?”

He lets out a quiet, resigned sigh, then lifts his shoulders with a silent yes.

“Why me?”

For a moment, that suave mask he wears—always strong, always the confident heir—slips, and there’s just Anthony, raw and real, the teenage boy who sat with me in the rain years ago.

He shifts closer, settling beside me on the elevator floor, our shoulders brushing as we stare at the steel doors closing, caging us in, the hum of the machinery a low pulse around us. “I don’t know, Everly. Whenever I think about getting shackled to someone, you’re always there.”

My breath hitches, and words stick in my throat as he leans back against the wall, his knee bumping mine. There’s a beat of silence, heavy but not uncomfortable, and then he keeps going, his voice dropping lower, laced with a bitterness I don’t often hear from him.

“You know those rich debutantes in our circle? The ones at every damn party, dripping in diamonds, batting their lashes like they give a shit about anything real?” He scoffs, a sharp, humorless sound, and runs a hand through his hair, mussing it further. “They’re all the same. Pretending they’re after love, whispering sweet bullshit in your ear, but it’s all a fucking act. They don’t want me. They want the Paladino name, the money, the power. They’d sell their souls for a penthouse and a private jet, and they’d stab each other in the back for it without blinking.”

I swallow, the venom in his tone sinking into me, and I shift to face him, my knee pressing against his thigh. I’ve seen it, the way those girls swarm him at events, all fake smiles and calculated touches, their eyes gleaming with greed.

“They’re vultures. Every one of them,” he grinds out. “They’d marry me tomorrow if I asked, but not because they care, just because I’m a ticket to the top. They don’t give a damn about who I am, what I feel, what I’ve lost…” His voice trails off, and I know he’s thinking of his mom, the grief we both carry like a shared scar. He shakes his head, jaw tightening. “They’re not real. Not like you.”

My heart stumbles, a quiet ache blooming. To me, Anthony has always been my best friend, the boy with the lilting laugh and the mischief in his eyes, not some high-society prize to be won.

Sure, there was a time when I thought I might be in love with him, but after the day we snuck out to a diner in Queens, and him mocking my choice of a peanut butter milkshake, making me laugh harder than I ever have, I knew his friendship would always mean more to me than any romantic relationship. I would never risk losing what we have for something wecouldhave.

I reach for his hand. “You’re a good guy, Anthony Paladino. And one day, you’re going to find a girl who loves you for you.” Not only is it the truth, but it’s also a subtle way of telling him that he’ll always be my best friend.Onlymy best friend.

“Maybe.” He weaves his fingers through mine, then brings it up to his lips, placing a kiss on the top of my hand. “Just know that I won’t ever allow this arranged marriage bullshit to happen.”

Panic slithers in. “What if Michele forces me to marry someone else?”

“Not a fucking chance. Look at me.” He tips my chin toward him with a gentle swipe of his thumb, our gazes locking, his eyes blazing with an unyielding promise. “I swear on my mother’s grave that I will protect you from him, from anyone who tries to hurt you, until my last breath.”

My heart swells, relief flooding through me like a warm tide, washing away the chill of Michele’s threats, and I let out a soft sigh. “Thank you,” I whisper, the words barely capturing the weight of what he’s giving me. Safety, loyalty, a shield against the storm.

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