Behind the Lyrics by Melissa Riddell
Chapter 43
Angela Morales
“And now, K-rockers, it’s time for a thirty-minute block of uninterrupted music.” Smiling, I loaded the playlist. “First up, my personal favorite: ‘Angel’ by Viktor Farrow from his new album, Fallen God.” An acoustic guitar filled the airwaves, and I leaned back, massaging my shoulders.
Terri popped her head inside the doorway. “You got a delivery, girl.”
Swiveling my stool to face her directly, I scrunched my eyebrows. “What kind of delivery?”
Instead of answering, she flung open the door and stepped aside.
A woman, with Marta’s Flowers embroidered on her blue polo shirt, carried several ginormous bouquets of red roses. “Um.” She looked around the small space. “Where do you want these?”
I shot from the stool and sprinted forward. “Those are for me?” Their soft, pleasant scent was heaven, and I resisted the urge to bury my face in their velvet petals and inhale.
“Yes, ma’am.” Her glance flew around the studio, probably taking in the mess in the corner that none of us had cleaned yet. It wasn’t as if we had a lot of traffic. Well, besides a certain Angry God.
The memory of Viktor bringing me roses and chocolates that night months ago squeezed my heart. I knew who these were from, and happiness—just like those roses—blossomed.
“Set them on the table here. Thank you.” I motioned toward my station. Oh, Viktor. I can’t wait to kiss your face when I get off work tonight.
She cocked an eyebrow at me and headed to the work area. “Okay…” Once she had them settled, she traipsed toward the door then stopped. “You do realize I have 96 more, right?” She glanced around and stepped out the door, shaking her head. “Hope you got somewhere to put ’em.”
“What?” My voice was flat. “I hope she’s kidding.” There was no way Viktor would’ve ordered a hundred bouquets—it was impractical and a waste of money.
Terri let out her loud, full-of-life laughter and slapped her thigh. “I doubt she’s kidding, honey. That man has it bad for you. I think if you asked him to walk through fire, he’d ask how many times.” She bent to the roses and sniffed. “How long’s it been since you two started dating? Six months?”
Unable to resist another sniff myself, I smashed my face into the petals and breathed in the fragrance. God, these smell so good. The man knows how to woo me, I’ll give him that.
“Yes, six months to the day since Jeff…” I didn’t want to taint Viktor’s sweet gift with such ugliness.
After I gave my statement to the police that night, true to his word, Viktor stood by my side as a witness and filed his own charges against my ex.
Viktor gave me the support I needed to go through with what I should’ve done two years ago—tell my story and let Jeff—and the world—know it was not okay to sexually assault someone whether they were a spouse or not. Assault was assault, period. Granted, it would be harder to get the charges to stick since some time had passed, but at least I had someone in my corner who believed in me—and that was worth more than anything in the universe.
The delivery woman brought another load and placed them against the wall. “The others just arrived, so we’ll be finished shortly.” She left.
“This is crazy.” I spun toward the window and glanced to the road. Sure enough, three floral delivery vans pulled into the parking lot and began unloading more flowers.
“Well, he is crazy, so it doesn’t surprise me.” She chuckled and smoothed her flowing orange top then absently shook the long blue skirt hugging her hips. “He might be a real asshole and arrogant braggart, but he’s devoted to you. Not everyone gets that kind of love.” Sighing, she squeezed me in a hug. “And it’s everything you deserve.”
She winked and left the room.
After ten minutes, the studio—awash with carmine buds and petals and filled with the soft scent of roses—had transformed into a painting with the setting rays of the orange sun blasting through the windows, enriching the scarlet reds.
Laughing, I closed my eyes and twirled, throwing out my arms in a wild, carefree dance. It was wonderful to not feel those old claws of panic or twisting nerves in my stomach. They weren’t gone forever, but over the past few months, I’d rarely had to rely on anything other than breathing and pep talks with Viktor.
“I’m going to buy you roses every day if it means I can hear you laugh.” Viktor’s voice made me stop and yelp.
“Viktor.” I threw myself into his arms. “This is nuts, but they’re beautiful.”
He pushed his mouth to mine and kissed me slowly, stroking my cheek with one hand and pressing a palm against the small of my back until my body curved into his.
His leathery, smoky smell filled my nose, and I clutched him closer, wondering how much longer I had until request hour started.
Tenderly, he broke away and speared me with his brooding, sultry eyes. “Were they too much?”
I threw my head back and laughed.
“And, on top of these dead flowers, I brought Rusty back. You should’ve seen the looks I got while driving that hunk of junk down the road.”
“What? Really?” I clapped and jumped up and down. “I figured you had him scrapped.”
“Believe me, I wanted to.” He flicked a loose lock of hair from my neck. “But I know how much you love that ugly thing, so instead, I had a new motor put in.” With an exaggerated shudder, he raised his eyebrows. “I pray no paparazzi snapped any photos of me in that antique.”
I nearly doubled over with laughter, imagining his mortification at driving such an ugly truck.
He gripped my hips and bent his mouth to my throat. “Keep laughing like that,” he growled, “and I’ll throw you down right here and fuck your brains out.”
“So romantic.” Wiping my eyes and snickering, I smacked his chest with the back of my hand.
“Trust me, it would be by the time I finished with you.” Each dimple popped on his cheek, and he wiggled his eyebrows.
“Sorry. No can do.” I disentangled myself from his arms. “It’s almost request hour, and I’ve got to—”
“Fuck request hour.” He grabbed my hand and pulled it to his mouth, placing a whiskery kiss against the knuckles. “I have a better idea. Let’s do an interview.”
I jerked away and put a fist on my hip. “Right now?”
“Why not? Your boss, what’s-her-name, won’t care.” He slid a finger under the back of my shirt and traced my spine. “Besides, I’m Viktor Farrow—the hottest rock star in the business right now—and I don’t just mean my between-the-sheets moves and killer looks.”
“Stop. A little humility goes a long way.” I can’t deny it, though. With a tender gaze, I roved his face, from his luscious lips, his bright hair, to his sinfully sexy eyes that melted my heart and my panties. “What the hell. Let’s do it.” He released me, and I sat at my station. “The listeners will eat it up.”
He took the opposite chair then adjusted his seat and the mic.
“So, are we going to play good cop, bad cop?” I teased, giving him a wink.
“Do that shite again”—he licked his lips and rubbed his jaw—“and we’re going to play doctor with you being the patient.”
I flipped a switch and shook my head. A prerecorded voice began the countdown. “10, 9, 8…”
A secret smile played about his lips, and he shifted in his seat and eased a hand into his pocket.
Curious, but unable to ask what he was doing, I focused and prepared to go on air.
Whatever it was he pulled out, he set it on the table with a dull plop. It didn’t sound like his AA chip. Besides, that was private to him, and I doubted he’d take it out unless there was a reason.
“Good evening, Mesa Palms. I’ve got a very special guest in the studio tonight who stopped by to say hi.” I nodded at Viktor, who propped his chin in a palm and flashed his teeth.
“Thanks, Angel.” He placed a wireless headset and microphone on his head instead of using the regular mic on the table. “And hello to all my lovely fans out there. Without you, my new album—or any albums—would be utter rubbish. So, thank you for the support, even when I was shitfaced and down on my luck.”
I frowned and made the knife-across-my-throat gesture and mouthed language, please.
His smile grew bigger. “Speaking of luck…” He bit his bottom lip. “Six months ago, I fell in love with an Angel.”
My face warmed, and I took a deep breath, enjoying the tickling wings of invisible butterflies in my stomach—the good kind, not the frantic kind.
“My original plan was to prove she meant nothing to me. I would make her fall in love with my rakish ways then I’d leave her begging for more because she dared to challenge me—to defy me—and that was something I’d never encountered before.”
I knew all of this. He’d told me about Operation Angel Seducer. At first, I’d laughed, thinking it was a joke, then realized he’d been serious. I could only shake my head at such a stupid plan. Only someone as arrogant as he would believe they could make someone fall in love with them.
Well, it did happen, though, didn’t it? Still, it was a dumb payback plan.
“But instead, like a god falling from the heavens, I hit the ground face first. That angel kicked my arse and saved me, curling me around her little halo until she became the seducer.” He pointed to me, his face serious and thoughtful. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I couldn’t tear my gaze from him. In the setting sun, that blazing blond hair was a crown of fire around his head.
“You, Angela Morales, were behind the lyrics of every song I’ve ever written and sang—I just didn’t know it at the time.” He took a deep breath and palmed the mysterious item, keeping it hidden from my view.
What’s he up to? Maybe he earned another coin for another year sober and wanted to show me.
“I can’t promise I’ll never be tempted or perfect or less of an arse, but”—he tipped his head and fiddled with whatever it was—“I can promise I’ll never give into my demons because you, Angel, mean more to me than anything. I’ll never, ever jeopardize losing your love.”
“Viktor…” I whispered, unable to say any more through the lump in my throat. I should’ve been embarrassed, knowing this was being broadcast and streamed online, but I didn’t want him to stop. Whatever he had to say, it was heartfelt and meant to be heard.
“My flaws, insecurities, and vices will always hover around me, but you shelter me from the chaos. You’re my truth and safe harbor, and there’s no other person on this planet I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” Standing, he walked toward me.
Still sitting, I could only watch his every move, fear and excitement thrumming through my body. Is he—
He bent to one knee and held out a ring, the diamond large and shining against a silver setting. “I can’t choose my demons, but I can certainly choose my angel. Will you marry me, Angela Morales?” Those coffee-colored eyes swam with vulnerability and fear, as if he didn’t dare believe I’d say yes. Yet, he still tried.
“Yes.” I lurched forward and squeezed his face between my hands. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” There was no hesitation on my part. Despite he and Jeff having similar addictions, Viktor was nothing like my ex—and never would be. That day in my apartment proved it, and no matter what our future held, he and I both deserved a second chance at life and love.
He sagged against me. “Oh, thank fuck.” Moving back a couple of inches, he traced my nose with a finger. “I didn’t know if I could handle being blown off a second time.”
I laughed, and happy tears leaked from my eyes.
He slipped the ridiculous ring on my finger and squeezed my hand. “I love you, my Angel.”
In the background, “29 Palms” by Robert Plant streamed through the studio speakers.
“And I love you, too, my Angry God.” I locked my lips with his, savoring his minty breath and electrifying touch, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead because the love he and I shared for one another would always be greater and stronger than any kind of turmoil life flung our way.
THE END
I hope you enjoyed Viktor and Angela’s story. It was one of those stories that hit me out of the blue and I had to write it down. I’m a sucker for a grumpy guy like Viktor, and he didn’t disappoint.
If you enjoyed this story and have a moment to rate or review it, I would be most grateful. Getting ratings and reviews helps the book get more notice, and as a newer author, I certainly appreciate your comments.
Also, I have a private reader group on Facebook if you’d like to join. We talk about books, play games, and I try to hold a contest to give away free books and audiobooks.
Check out Melissa Riddell’s Savage Worlds and Sassy Girls at:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/615510462698371/
Thanks so much!
-Melissa Riddell
You can also follow me on the below sites:
www.facebook.com/melcriddell
www.twitter.com/MelCRiddell
www.instagram.com/averela
www.goodreads.com/melcriddell
www.bookbub.com/authors/melissa-riddell
www.amazon.com/author/melissariddell
https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMe1S8qCJ/