Page 9 of Tempting Devil

I stared at the paused screen for several beats. At Imogene’s pained expression. But I quickly brushed it off, pretending it didn’t gut me.

“Same as before,” I replied, forcing confidence into my voice through the doubt and guilt gnawing at my insides.

“And if she figures out who you really are?” Henry arched a brow.

“Look at me.” I gestured at my face. “Do I look even remotely close to Samuel Tate?”

“No, but?—”

“But nothing. I knew there was a chance Imogene would learn about this when I made the decision to plant my DNA at Alton’s cabin. It was a risk I was willing to take in order to make these assholes pay.”

“And Imogene?”

“What about Imogene?” I asked guardedly.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt stretching from the motion. “How are you going to deal with her knowing the truth?”

“She doesn’t know the truth.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but I quickly cut him off.

“All she knows is a glass containing Samuel’s DNA was found at Alton’s cabin.”

“And if she somehow learns you are alive?”

I gritted my teeth, pushing down my growing unease. “She won’t.”

Henry narrowed his gaze at me. “Imogene is smart. You may have a different face, but she knows your heart, Sam.”

I opened my mouth to chastise him for disregarding the one rule I made him swear to when we started down this path. But he cut me off before I could.

“She knows what’s inside you. Knows your soul. What makes you tick. Your face may have changed, but your soul is still somewhere in there. And I’ve been seeing more and more of the old you since you started spending time with her. Since you started allowing yourself to be human again. I have a feeling the more time you spend with her, the more pieces of the old you will return until you’ll no longer be able to deny who you are. That you are Samuel.” He paused, searching my expression for any sign of recognition or acknowledgment of this truth.

But I remained stoic, my walls firmly in place.

“Samuel Tate is dead.” I stood, pinning him with a glare. “And he will remain dead long after this is over. Nothing will change that.” I turned toward the door.

“Regardless of whether Samuel Tate is dead or alive,” Henry began, forcing me to pause in my tracks and face him, “she may find out the truth eventually. If you want a future with her, don’t you think it would be best?—”

“There is no future with us!” I roared as I advanced on him, barely an inch separating us.

I wasn’t sure if my sudden surge of anger was because Henry’s incessant line of questioning had finally become too much, or because of the harsh reality that there could never be a future between Imogene and me. Not now that I’d started down this path.

“Why do you say that?” Henry pressed, undeterred by my outburst, like always.

“I’m here for one reason and one reason only,” I reminded him in a firm tone. “Revenge. Nothing more.”

“So you don’t care about Imogene?” Henry scoffed, the disbelief heavy in his voice.

“I can’t.”

“But you do, despite what you may wish. Just like she’s never stopped loving you, you’ve never stopped loving her.”

“Stop,” I growled, but Henry didn’t listen, refusing to back down.

“You could have a future together.”

“A future?” I scoffed.

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