Page 70 of The Devil's Pawn

“You’re not going.”

“Why? Worried I won’t come back?”

A flash of something I can’t describe ripples across his face, but it’s gone in a heartbeat.

“I will?—”

“Mrs. De Vil, you have a visitor.”

Alexander’s head snaps to Alan, the butler who I hardly see unless I’m coming and going from the house.

“A visitor?” I haven’t had a single visitor since I got here. Maybe it’s Vicky? Although that makes no sense. Apart from the one occasion our paths crossed, I haven’t seen her since.

“Who is it?” Alexander asks, his tone short.

“An Emma Delacourt, Mr. De Vil.”

A squeal erupts out of me. “Emma? Oh, my God! Where is she?”

“In the foyer, ma’am.”

“I can’t believe she’s here!” I abruptly turn, ready to race to the door when a hand snaps around my wrist, yanking me to a halt.

“Have Ms. Delacourt brought here,” Alexander says, his expression reminiscent of a man who found a wasp floating in his drink.

“I can get her.”

“It isn’t done. We have staff for that.”

I’m tempted to argue, but I clamp my lips shut. All I care about is that Emma’s here. She’s here! In England. At Oakleigh. I’m stunned.

The second she appears, I throw myself at her, my throat thick with joy. I hug her so tightly she makes this strangled noise.

“Jesus, Immy. I can’t breathe.”

I loosen my death grip and take a step back. “What are you doing here?”

“Your last texts worried me, so I spoke to my boss, andshe gave me a few days off. I have to go back Saturday, though. She made it clear if my ass isn’t in the office Monday morning, to not bother coming back.” She flashes me a beaming grin, then looks past me to Alexander. “You must be the hubs.” Striding over, she thrusts out her hand. “I’m Emma.”

“So it seems.” His tone couldn’t be any more unfriendly, and the reluctance with which he briefly shakes her hand is something out of a comedy sketch. “Alexander De Vil.”

“No shit?” Emma laughs, and Alexander virtually bristles with annoyance.

Oh, this is priceless. He steals my passport so I can’t go home, but home has come to me, and there isn’t a thing he can do about it.

Emma wrinkles her nose. “What happened to your eyebrow?”

“Ask your friend.” Alexander cuts his gaze to me.

“A little accident with a wax strip.” I hitch a shoulder.

“Oh, dear.” Emma stifles a giggle. “So, what do you do for fun around here, besides waxing your husband’s eyebrow?”

“Fun?” I shoot Alexander a look. “It’s not a concept my new husband is familiar with. Isn’t that right, Alexander?”

He heaves a sigh that comes from deep in his abdomen. “If we’d known you were coming, Miss Delacourt, we would have prepared better for your visit.”

“No prep needed for me, Al. I’m easy street. No need to stand on ceremony.”

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