Page 3 of Trust in the Fallen

“I wish I could say I’m surprised you would do this, Jason,” a feminine voice snaps. “But honestly, I’m not.”

“Please, Leighton, you don’t understand.”

“Which bit don’t I understand? The bit where you’re the member of a sex club I’ve never visited with you? Or the part where you were dry humping another woman in a public place? Because honestly, both bits look pretty damning for you.”

The moment the woman comes into my line of sight, the air is sucked from my lungs. A short white dress clings to her luscious curves, and white stockings reach the middle of her thigh. Sparkly silver pumps adorn her feet, and a full pair of angel wings complete her costume. But it’s not her barely there outfit that catches my attention.

No. There’s something about the angel that holds me captive from the first glance. Perhaps it’s her thick brown curls, or the amber eyes I caught a quick glimpse of, or maybe it’s how she holds herself with poise despite being in an unfamiliar place where she’s just found who I can only assume is her boyfriend with another woman.

I can’t put my finger on it, but from the moment I lay eyes on her, I know she’s the missing piece of our puzzle.

Our angel.

CHAPTERTHREE

LEIGHTON

Idon’t know what I expected when I found the invitation in Jason’s pocket last week while organizing his washing to go to the dry cleaner, but this certainly wasn’t it.

Of course, I could have just asked him what it was when I found it, but he would have lied to me. After all, that’s what cheaters do. They lie and cheat, anything to get ahead in this world, and I always suspected that was Jason’s only interest in being with me.

I am the police commissioner’s daughter, and he’s always wanted to go to Washington. Ever since we were kids, all he’s been able to talk about is following in his father’s footsteps, and I’ve been the poor sucker who was tagged to help him get there.

I wouldn’t quite call our relationship an arranged marriage, but it’s as close as one can be without crossing that line. Our parents made a deal a long time ago, an agreement that followed a mistake I’ll never be able to forget. Two kids from well-respected families coming together to unite into an unbreakable force. I’ve put off actually marrying him for the last three years, always using the excuse of college to push the date back, but on graduation day I finally had to say yes. Not that we’ll be getting married now.

I stare at my now ex-fiancé with distaste, barely able to spare the poor woman he was basically mauling. She’s dressed as a nurse I think, something equally as tacky as I am, but she’s pretty. I can see why Jason would go for her. She’s much thinner than I am, and just generally more attractive I suppose. Her bleach-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes almost make her seem like a doll. Like I said, I get it.

Jason is objectively attractive. High cheekbones and a perfectly chiseled jawline. Dark eyes and hair that put him in the tall, dark and handsome category that women find so desirable. It helps that he spends an hour in the gym every day and takes care of himself. He also doesn’t let me forget that fact and reminds me every chance he gets that I could stand to lose a few pounds.

“Leighton, can we go somewhere to talk? You’re making a scene.”

“I’m making a scene?” I laugh, allowing my head to drop back as the vibrations make their way through my body. He’s always been a little delusional, but Jesus, this is bad even for him. “You don’t think that dry humping a nurse in a bar is making a scene? Were you going to fuck her out here in the open, too?”

His gaze darkens. “You know I don’t like it when you swear.”

“I don’t like it when you fuck other women, but here we are.” I shrug. I’m fully aware of the audience we’re gathering, and I’m quietly smug at the negative attention he’s going to get because of this little ordeal.

A gentle hand brushes across my bare shoulder, and I startle. I didn’t expect anyone to touch me here, not in the open like this. If I’m honest, I don’t like physical touch. Perhaps it’s because I was starved of it as a child, or maybe it’s because Jason is the only one to have touched me in years, and even then it’s been sparse.

“It’s okay, Angel. I won’t hurt you,” a velvety voice says from beside me. “Why don’t you step into my office to take a breath and calm down? It’s better to have these conversations with a clear head.”

I turn around, ready to tell this guy to fuck off. I’ve never been one to swear. My parents would kill me if they could hear me now. But when the man comes into my field of vision, my words die before they can roll off my tongue.

I have to crane my neck to look him in the eye, and each inch of hard muscle I take in is more defined than the last. When I think I can’t find this perfect stranger any more attractive, I meet his kind blue eyes. The breath I was about to take catches in my throat.

Holy hell.

He’s older than Jason and me, probably by abiyt fifteen years, but that doesn’t make him any less attractive. His dirty-blonde hair is carefully styled, and he’s dressed as a superhero I can’t identify. I’ve never watched much TV. My mother used to call it a waste of brain cells and would reprimand me anytime she caught me watching it as a child. Jason wouldn’t even allow us to get one when we moved in together after college, so all the nights he spends at the office, or at clubs like this, are spent in a silent house, alone.

“Get your hands off my fiancée!” Jason pushes the nurse from his lap and stands, but his lean muscle is nothing compared to my hero, and just to rub salt in the wound, he’s several inches shorter.

My hero raises a brow and glances behind him, shining a look of disbelief at whoever stands there. “Your fiancée? I don’t want to put words in the lady’s mouth, but I have a feeling you’ll be adding ex to that title.”

Jason glares at him and reaches for me. He grasps my wrist in a punishing hold and tugs me toward him. The sudden move causes me to lose my footing, and my ankle slips in my heel, snapping to the side and sending excruciating pain through my leg.

“Leighton, you’re embarrassing me,” Jason snaps, pulling me upright, and when my weight settles on my foot, I let out a pained yelp.

My hero steps forward and reaches for me, worry etched into his brow. “Are you okay, angel?” he asks, his gaze flicking between me and Jason like he’s trying to anticipate our next move.

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