Page 13 of The Devil's Pawn

“Alexander.” My father sidles up to me, displeasure tugging his eyebrows toward his nose. “What are you doing brooding all the way over here? Go and be with Imogen.”

“Yes, sir.” Reluctantly, I make my way through the throngs of wedding guests. I brush past Donovan and lean close to his ear as I pass. “Stay away from my wife or I will gut you where you stand.”

Shock widens his eyes, then he throws back his head and lets out a single-note laugh. “You’re such an asshole. Always have been. I was being nice, that’s all. A concept you’re obviously not familiar with.”

“A concept none of us are familiar with,” Nicholas says, much to Donovan’s amusement.

I grip his upper arm and squeeze enough to cut off the blood supply to the rest of his limb. A limb he’ll lose if he touches my fucking wife one more time. “I mean it, Sinner. Stay the fuck away, or you will live to regret it.”

“Xan, come on.” Nicholas nudges me, and I reluctantly let Donovan go.

Brushing a hand over his sleeve where I’d gripped him, he grins. “You’ve always been a possessive bastard.”

He isn’t wrong. After my sister Annabel died, I became extremely possessive, not only about people but things, too. My therapist puts it down to a strong need for control, because of what happened to my sister and me, then later, my mother. Whatever the reason, I don’t like my possessions being messed around with, and like it or not, Imogen is mine. Until she isn’t.

“Just mark my fucking words, and we won’t have a problem.”

I withdraw, and seconds later, arrive at Imogen’s side. It doesn’t escape my notice that she shuffles a few inches away. I grip her elbow and tug her closer to me. “Uncle George, Aunt Alice. I see you’re keeping my new bride company.”

“She’s a smasher,” George says. “You’re a lucky man, Alexander. May you both have lots of beautiful babies.”

I lock my spine, and Imogen does the same. Interesting. Perhaps she’s no keener to add to the bulging population than I am. That could make life easier.

“Where are you going on honeymoon?” Alice asks, at least five more words than she usually manages. She’s a timid woman, my aunt. It amazes me that George married her in the first place, let alone stayed married to her. They met in Japan not long after my parents married, and George remained there, only returning permanently to Oakleigh a few days before we lost Annabel, then two weeks later, Mum.

Another wave of bleak thoughts overwhelm me, the darkness I work hard to keep at bay breaking free. All those years since our family lost its heart, yet time only makes my grief worse.

Annabel used to talk about who she might marry, and she’d get excited at the thought. Back then, I was more open to the idea, too, especially as I had the best example growing up with my parents. But tragedy has a way of changing our minds about many things.

If I analyze my feelings, it’s not marriage I’m averse to, per se. It’s having kids. I’ll never bring a child into this world. Never. I don’t care that it’s expected of me. Dad has four other children who can carry on the De Vil name. I won’t be one of them, no matter what duty or expectation from my family or The Consortium demands of me.

“We’re not,” I respond in a flat tone.

Imogen stiffens again while George chuckles. “Oh, Alexander. You must have a honeymoon.”

“Why? This isn’t a love match. It’s an arranged marriage that satisfies what’s expected of me and settles a debt Imogen’s father owes to mine. Besides, I’m busy. I have a full diary.”

Static electricity fires between Imogen and me. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s clenching and unclenching her hands as though she’s got pins and needles,and there’s a mottled flush spreading up her neck. If I had to guess, she’s drawing on all her strength not to punch me in the face. I can’t help a small smile at the thought of her attempting such a thing.

“That won’t do at all.” My father’s voice sounds behind me, and he joins our little gathering. “Of course, you’re having a honeymoon. It’s all arranged. You leave for Scotland tomorrow.”

I love Scotland. It’s one of my favorite places in the world, and we have a gorgeous property up there in a quiet, remote part of the country, but I don’t see the point in a honeymoon.

“I have work to do,” I reply, my tone brooking no argument, not even from my father. It isn’t only official De Vil business I have coming up in the next couple of weeks. If my contact comes through with the intel I need, myalternativeactivities will require my attention, and I’ll need to move fast.

“Yes, you do. Work on producing my first grandchild.”

Imogen sways on her feet, and I automatically grab her elbow to steady her. Loathing drips from her eyes as she detaches herself, shuffling a couple of feet away from me once more. This time, I leave her be.

“I’m mid-contract on a large deal. I can’t simply walk away in the middle of it.”

My father raises his arm and beckons to someone. I turn in time to see Nicholas making his way over.

“Nicholas, go with Alexander and get a handover on this important deal he’s working on—that he failed to tell me about until now. We need to free up his time for his honeymoon.”

Nicholas’s shit-eating grin makes my hands twitch, but decking my brother in front of most of our family’s importantbusiness contacts, not to mention several members of The Consortium, isn’t the greatest idea I’ve ever had. Although I’d draw enormous satisfaction from it.

I head straight for my study, slamming the door behind Nicholas the second he’s inside. Not that he’s bothered by my moodiness in the slightest.

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