Angel shut her eyes, losing herself in the kiss, letting the mont consu her.
But when Tryson pulled away, his gaze was distant—cold yet resolute, as if bracing himself for the weight of his next words.
"Listen, Angel," he said, his voice softer than his expression. "I know you don’t really care, and I know there are more explanations to this, but right now, I just need you to be okay. I made a promise—to you, to Moore—about your well-being. I won’t be the reason for any more chaos. So, until this settles, you need to stay away from your phone."
For a mont, silence stretched between them.
Then, Angel forced a small smile and nodded, a quiet acceptance in her eyes. Tryson smiled back at her, ready to leave, but before he could take another step, Angel’s hand closed around his, stopping him in place.
The warmth of her touch made him turn, his gaze locking onto hers.
"Tryson," she began, a playful glint in her eyes. "I was thinking... maybe you could use this opportunity to fully commit to . I an, you brought to this resort for my well-being, right? So, why don’t we take it a step further—make it real this ti?"
She lifted her hand, wiggling her fingers teasingly. "You could finally put that ring where it belongs."
Her tone was light, teasing, but beneath it lay an unspoken challenge—a daring invitation wrapped in charm.
A full smile spread across Tryson’s face, but instead of answering, he moved—sudden and deliberate—closing the space between them.
In a heartbeat, his hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him.
Angel gasped at the unexpected gesture, her breath hitching.
Caught off guard, she let out a soft chuckle, gently tapping his arm in playful protest. Tryson leaned in, his voice laced with teasing warmth.
"I really don’t know what I’d do without you." Tryson said teasingly, his nostril inhaling the beautiful scent of hers that made him so intoxicated but before she could respond, he dipped his head, his lips nearing hers.
Angel gasped again, and this ti, a deep flush spread across her cheeks.
The way he looked at her, the way he held her—it was enough to set her entire world spinning.
"I’m sure you’ll be nothing," Angel teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "After all, you have to deal with a pretty Angel like ."
With that, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.
For a mont, silence settled between them—a fleeting, fragile calm against the chaos of the morning.
The internet was ablaze with her na, branding her a gold digger.
Photos of Arthur kissing her had surfaced, accompanied by so-called "evidence" linking her to his company.
The storm was raging, and Angel was at its center.
And then ca the wild claims—accusations that she was a master manipulator, skillfully trapping powerful entrepreneurs in her web.
Thankfully, the rumors hadn’t gone far enough to reveal her pregnancy.
Whoever had leaked the story clearly knew about her connection to Arthur but had no idea about the life growing inside her.
That was a small rcy in the midst of the storm.
By all logic, Angel and Tryson should have been panicking—scrambling for a way to shut down the blogs, to expose the truth, to fight back.
But instead, they remained wrapped in each other’s arms, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.
For a mont, Angel lifted her head, gazing at Tryson with a soft smile.
She looked content—like she had finally found her place by his side. But then, just as quickly, her expression shifted.
A frown crept onto her face as the weight of reality settled in.
She had only one choice.
If Tryson was willing to commit to her—if he was truly ready to take this step—then wasn’t it ti she told him the truth?
The truth that he was the father of her child?
Her heart pounded at the thought. She could finally tell him.
They could finally be free of secrets.
Maybe, just maybe, they could have the happy life she had dared to dream of.
"Actually, Tryson... there’s sothing I need to tell you," Angel said, her voice suddenly uncertain, a hint of tension creeping in.
The shift was imdiate.
Her warmth faded, replaced by sothing colder, more hesitant.
Tryson noticed it instantly. His smile faltered, his mind racing—what could have changed in just a second?
Before she could say another word, the sharp chi of his ringtone sliced through the mont, shattering the fragile silence between them.
"Ugh, really?" Angel huffed in frustration, rolling her eyes as she turned to glance at his phone.
But the second her gaze landed on the screen, her expression shifted—a deep frown settling on her face.
The caller ID read "Boss."
Tryson turned as well, just in ti to see the look on her face.
The mont he realized she had seen the na, his heart kicked up a notch, pounding just a little harder.
"I think I have to take this," Tryson said, gently pulling away from their embrace.
Without hesitation, he reached for the phone resting on the bed.
Angel crossed her arms, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. "Looks like your boss is about to chew you out for all the drama blowing up online," she joked, waving off the brief unease she had felt monts ago.
After all, she figured it was probably just his father or mother calling.
Nothing to worry about... right?
Tryson wore a sly smile as he turned away, casually making his way toward the balcony.
But the mont the phone touched his ear, the warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by sothing cold, unreadable.
In a voice as sharp as ice, he said, "Yes, Boss?" A deep, heavy chuckle echoed from the other end of the line—dark, amused, yet laced with irritation.
"I see you’re enjoying yourself with her," the man remarked, his tone deceptively calm, yet carrying a quiet, nacing edge.
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