ANGEL'S WRATH by SK (SIN CITY HEAT) (33 page)

 
 
 
 
“No,” Nikki whispered. “He’s my husband.”

 
 
 
 
When her eyes moved to the woman clinging possessively to Angel's arm, Nikki felt sick. Her stomach threatened to bring the meal she'd consumed a couple of hours ago back up when she saw the way that bitch was practically plastered to Angel's side.

 
 
 
 
“Your husband?”

 
 
 
 
“That's right.”
My husband and his former lover.

 
 
 
 
Walt’s attention went from Nikki’s stricken face to the couple approaching their table. He sat back and frowned, not exactly sure what to say. “Ahhhh…are you okay?”

 
 
 
 
Nikki took a deep breath and gave Walt a slightly shaky smile. “I’m fine.”

 
 
 
 
Walt's expression was doubtful, but he remained silent. Although he and Nicole shared a comfortable professional relationship, they were still just business associates. They’d briefly mentioned their personal lives here and there, but neither had gone into great detail. He studied the man bold enough to walk into a restaurant and flaunt another woman in front of his wife’s face without a second thought.
Who did something like that??

 
 
 
 
Seeing the arrogant tilt of the man’s head, Walt answered his own question. Apparently,
he
did.

 
 
 
 
Walt’s eyes slid to the woman walking beside him. She was drop dead gorgeous and clung to him like she had every right to do so...as if
she
were his woman and his wife sitting at the table was some inconsequential hindrance who didn’t matter in the least.

 
 
 
 
Damn!

 
 
 
 
Walt turned his head to gauge Nikki's reaction. She was clearly making an effort to compose herself and gain control of her emotions. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Nikki’s lips tightened in what he guessed was supposed to be a smile and nodded.

 
 
 
 
By now, the striking couple was standing in front of them. The other diners in the restaurant stared as if trying to place them and figure out if they were famous or something. The pair was certainly glamorous enough.
 
The expensive tailored suit Angel wore skimmed his lithe, fit frame as if it were a glove fitting over a hand. He was ruggedly handsome, the kind of man who made women conjure up thoughts of rough, freaky, sex. His hair was cut low to shape his head, and the sharp angles of his handsome face looked as if it belonged on a movie screen, so they
knew
he had to be
somebody
. And those eyes…

 
 
 
 
The woman was no less breathtaking. Her long, black hair rippled down her back in a shiny curtain and her natural tawny skin positively glowed. Her face was made up to perfection to bring out dark, smoldering eyes surrounded by naturally thick lashes. Simply stunning.

 
 
 
 
From the uncomfortable expression on his face, it was obvious Alexander, Gregoire's maître d, was familiar with all three of them. Angel had been coming to Gregoire’s for years. Alexander was well aware that he and Nikki were married and also knew Angel and Carmen used to be involved. When Angel had shown up at the door with Carmen, the poor man had quietly told him as tactfully as possible so as not to offend, that Mrs. LaCroix was here. Not surprised, Angel only nodded and requested for he and Carmen to be seated.

 
 
 
 
Nikki coolly scanned Carmen’s smug expression before her eyes settled on Angel. Although outwardly calm, her hand itched to slap the taste out of both of their mouths, but she’d be damned if she made a spectacle of herself. She crossed her legs and stared daggers at her husband, whose eyes were practically frigid. Nikki read his mind and raised an eyebrow at his gall. She knew him so well. He had the nerve to be angry at her because she was sitting with Walter, a business client, while he pranced this trollop around as if she were a prized mare in his stable?

 
 
 
 
Nikki tried to slow her breathing down as she battled several emotions at once. Anger. Hurt. Disbelief. She didn’t know whether to put her head down and cry or kick Carmen’s ass from one end of the restaurant to the other. Her eyes went back to the slut in question. When Nikki saw the glimmer of amusement basking on the other woman's face, her eyes narrowed.

 
 
 
 
Crying could wait. Right now, this bitch had an ass whipping coming that only Nikki could deliver to her good and proper. Nikki pushed her chair back to stand up and was getting ready to do just that when the light touch of Walt’s hand on her shoulder stopped her and reminded her where she was. Sinking back down in her chair, Nikki sent him a grateful smile.

 
 
 
 
Noticing the smile, Angel’s piercing eyes crawled to the hand which still rested on Nikki’s shoulder before he slowly directed an unnerving gaze towards Walt meant to intimidate. As Angel continued to stare at and size him up with a steady intensity that would've cowered a lesser man, Walt steeled himself not to look away because he had no doubt whatsoever Nikki's husband would take that as a sure sign of weakness.
 

 
 
 
 
Although he didn’t scare easily, Walt admitted to himself that he was rattled. A feeling he
 
couldn't quite define caused a shiver to run down his spine. His grandmother used to tell him when your body trembled in such a way it meant someone was walking over your grave.
 
For the first time, Walt understood exactly what that phrase meant. The promise of deadly harm was evident in the other man’s eyes if Walt didn’t remove his hand from his wife's shoulder.

 
 
 
 
Nikki noticed Angel’s expression as well. Even though the last thing she felt like doing was being civil, she didn’t want Walt caught up in her husband’s line of fire. He was an innocent bystander in all of this, but normally, innocent bystanders were the ones who almost unerringly took the bullet.

 
 
 
 
“If you don’t mind, we’re in the middle of discussing business.” Her eyes dared Angel to dispute that fact with the folders lying on the table.

 
 
 
 
Angel’s jaw worked as he continued to glare at Walt for a few moments more before turning his attention to Nikki. “Is that what you call it? Something about your...
business
must have been extremely funny from what I observed when I came in.”

 
 
 
 
“And what would you call
this
?” Nikki jerked her head in Carmen’s direction. The question hissed low and sharp from Nikki’s mouth before she could stop it. She could’ve bitten her tongue off when she saw the satisfaction reflected on Angel’s face.

 
 
 
 
The corner of his mouth lifted briefly before he glanced down at Carmen. “Just a dinner between old friends. But we won’t keep you. Enjoy your…business.” Nodding to a flustered Alexander to let him know he was ready, Angel left the table, placing a guiding hand on the small of Carmen's back. He bent down to whisper something in her ear which caused her to giggle and glance back at Nicole in triumph.

 
 
 
 
Once they walked away, Nikki couldn’t stop the devastation from showing on her face. She picked up her glass of wine, still full, and guzzled every last drop before closing her eyes.

 
 
 
 
“Son of a bitch,” Walt muttered under his breath as he watched Angel and Carmen sit down at a small intimate table. He looked at Nikki. “Come on. You ready to go?”

 
 
 
 
Again, she sent Walt a grateful look and nodded once. As he settled the bill, she gave a weak protest that she was going to pay it, which he waved aside. As they stood up and gathered their briefcases, Nikki could feel the heat of Angel’s eyes boring into her back, but with her head held high, she walked out of the restaurant and sent a smile to a sympathetic Alexander on the way out.

 
 
 
 
Once they got to Nikki's car, Walt held the door open as she tossed her briefcase into the passenger seat with more force than it called for. “Nicole, I assume you and your husband aren’t together?” When she nodded without offering an explanation, Walt didn’t question her further. “You sure you’re going to be alright to drive?”

 
 
 
 
“Yes. And I apologize for you having to witness that. But, thank you.”

 
 
 
 
After she got into the car and drove off, Nikki bit her trembling lip as she navigated the streets to get home purely on instinct and began a two way conversation with herself...

 
 
 
 
 
You’re the one who more or less told him it was over earlier today. You know how he is, and he told you himself; once he's finished with something or someone, that's it. And by the looks of things, he meant it.

 
 
 
 
But to be so blatantly disrespectful and take that tramp out to dinner?
 
She argued.
As if their marriage meant nothing to him?
 
As if SHE meant nothing?

 
 
 
 
“Stop it, Nikki,” she muttered. “To hell with him. The only thing you need in your life is your son. Angelo can go and take a flying leap, and kiss my ass!”

 
 
 
 
She continued to curse her husband to hell and back until she walked through the front door of her house. Then she sat down and promptly burst into tears.

 
 
 
 
The drive back to Angel’s house was deafeningly quiet. Although he'd listened attentively to Carmen as she told him about her upcoming show at fashion week in New York, he contributed little to the conversation. Almost the moment she finished dinner, Angel had called for the check. Once in the car, he became subdued and unresponsive to her attempts at conversation, and knowing him well, Carmen sat back quietly and rode in silence the rest of the way.

 
 
 
 
After they walked into the house, Carmen automatically made her way to the large, comfortable family room. She kicked off her heels and settled down on the overstuffed sofa, curling her feet underneath her. It was a ritual she and Angel had done for years...it was as if she'd never been away. Carmen watched Angel go to the bar, her eyes full of hunger.

 
 
 
 
“Would you like something to drink?” Angel poured himself a shot of whiskey and threw it down his throat before fixing another.

 
 
 
 
“A glass of wine, please.”

 
 
 
 
He leaned down and opened the built in refrigerator under the bar and pulled out a bottle of Chateau Mouton and poured her a glass. Picking up his tumbler of whiskey, he walked over and handed it to her then sat down. Loosening his tie, Angel picked up the remote that controlled the sound system in the room, and moments later, the soothing melody of his favorite jazz CD filled the room.

 
 
 
 
Sighing with contentment, Carmen took a sip of the wine. “Mmm. This is good. I always did like this vintage,
papi.
It reminds me of chocolate and raspberry spice,” she smiled. Angel nodded absently as he brought his own glass to his lips.

 
 
 
 
Carmen inched closer and ran a hand up and down the back of his head. “Would you like to talk about it, Angelo?”

 
 
 
 
“No.”