Page 39 of The Devil's Pawn

I exhale through my nose. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, it’s my help you want? Are you sure?”

When he doesn’t offer anything further, I motion with my hands for him to get on with it.

“You need to fuck her.”

I should have known that’s where he’d go. “Our marks aren’t the only predictable ones.”

“She’ll feel better for it, and so will you.”

“You know why I can’t.”

Standing, he fetches the brandy decanter and pours us both another drink. He sits down again and pushes my glass across the desk. “Xan, at the risk of boring both of us by repeating myself, what happened to Annabel won’t happen to your kids.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re you.”

“And Dad is Dad, yet he couldn’t protect us. They took us from our fucking beds, Nicholas.”

Dad found the men responsible, and I demanded the right to end their lives, which he granted me. But I’ve never been able to shake the nagging thought that they were the stooges and there was a bigger mastermind behind the abduction. Yet nothing else happened, although that might be because Dad beefed up security.

Uncle George unexpectedly returning from Asia shortly before we were taken helped, too. He was blinded by grief, along with the rest of us. He might not have been around much when we were growing up, but he’d stayed in touch with Dad, and he’d loved Mum like a sister.

Nicholas sighs and pinches the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. It’s classic Nicholas whenhe’s frustrated.

“So, you’re saying none of us should have kids? That we should let the family line die with us?”

It’s not what I’m saying, and he knows it, but Imogen isn’t the only one who enjoys pressing my buttons.

“No, I’m saying that having children isn’t somethingIcan bring myself to do. I’m not pushing my choices on to anyone else.”

“Well… you kind of are.”

I square my shoulders, my spine locking in place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your refusal to have kids means Imogen will remain childless, too. You think that’s fair to her?”

Nicholas isn’t aware of my plan to force Imogen’s hand until she ends our marriage. No one is. I share most things with my brothers and my sister, but that particular strategy stays with me. They will disapprove, and an argument will ensue. Since arguments with my siblings aren’t nearly as enjoyable as they are with my wife, I’d rather save my energy for her.

When I don’t answer Nicholas’s question, he downs the rest of his brandy and gets to his feet. “Your silence speaks volumes, Xan.” Setting the empty glass on my desk, he leaves me to brood alone, the door snicking shut behind him.

I rub my eyes again and pour another brandy.

The next thing I know, there’s a knock on the door, and it’s light outside. I must have fallen asleep in my chair. Wonders never cease. I sit up straight and run my hands through my hair.

“Come in.”

Richard, my assistant, enters. He’s a serious guy most of the time, but he’s extra dour this morning, even for him.

“Mr. De Vil,” he begins, despite me telling him multiple times to call me Alexander.

Richard has worked for me for five years, and during that time he hasn’t once called me by my first name. I’ve given up correcting him.

“Yes?”

“Sir, you’re not going to like this.”

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