Page 15 of The Devil's Torment

“That’s precisely what I want.”

“Good. We’re on the same page. In that, at least.”

Falling silent, he reaches for his coffee and takes a sip. I expect him to gag at the six sugars and the milk when he’d asked for two sugars and black or call me out on my childish behavior. But he doesn’t say a thing. I note, though, that he only takes a single sip before returning the mug to the table. It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it.

I finish my drink and place my mug down, wondering how much longer he plans to stay, and whether I should ask him to leave.

“Tell me, Victoria.” He rests his hands casually in his lap. “How do you feel about everything?”

“How do I—?” Absorbing the shock that he bothered to ask, I consider how best to phrase it, then give up and say what I really feel. “I’m angry. I presume you know the trouble my father is in with his business and how he has no option but to offer me in exchange for a cash bailout?”

Nicholas brings his steepled hands up to his chin. “That’s not quite how my father explained it.”

“Well, it’s exactly how my father explained it, but let’s not pore over semantics. The facts are that I’m having to marry you to bail out my parents, and I’m pretty pissed off about it.” When he says nothing in response, I add, “You asked.”

“And I’d expect nothing but directness from you. Thank you for your honesty.”

He’s being too reasonable. I prefer it when his physical tells show how irritated I make him, how hard he’s having to hang on to a thread of control. As much as I once thought I was in love with him, he and I have never seen eye to eye. Although I did my best to avoid him while he was engaged to Beth, so we haven’t spent much time together. I guess I’ll get to spend a lot more time with him once we’re married.

A shudder runs through me, and it’s not from revulsion. Maybe Imogen was right and the love I once thought I felt for Nicholas isn’t dead after all. Especially now I’ve finally let him tell me his side of the story, and while he’s not all the way off the hook, I have to admit that what he says happened doesn’t sound like he’s entirely culpable for Beth leaving that night.

The question remains, why did she? It’s a mystery I don’t think we’ll ever solve because the one person who can give us her motivation isn’t here any longer.

“Do you think they were watching?” I ask, diverting conversation away from him and me once more. “The people or person who planted the bomb? Were they watching and waiting for an opportunity to kill her?”

Nicholas shakes his head. “I’m not sure Elizabeth was the intended target that night. There’s no way they could have known she’d get into that cab, but with the absence of a driver in the wreckage, he has to be a part of the conspiracy.” He rubs his forehead as though his brain hurts. “I keep going over and over it, and no matter how many times I do, it doesn’t make sense.”

“If anyone can find the answers, it’s you.”

A small smile graces his lips, changing his demeanor from broody to sensual. My stomach turns over as though I’ve careened down the first dip on a rollercoaster. “That almost sounds like a compliment.”

“Don’t expect another any time soon.”

He slow blinks, then shakes his head. Reaching into his inside pocket, he takes out his phone. “As you’re insistent on being involved in the investigation, I wonder if you’ve ever seen this guy before.”

He turns the screen to face me, and I take the handset from him. Our fingers touch for a split second, electricity arcing between us. If he felt the same jolt as I did, he doesn’t show it. I glance down at the screen. It’s a sketch by someone who knows how to draw. I look at it for several seconds, then hand his phone back to him.

“I haven’t. Who is he?”

“The driver of the cab Elizabeth was in.”

I sit up straight. “How did you get that?”

“My team found a witness from the night it happened. I went to see him the day of Elizabeth’s funeral and had an artist draw a sketch from the guy’s description.”

“So, that’s where you went.” I rub my lips together, marginally embarrassed at what I’d said now I know where he disappeared to. He’s as much at fault, though. He could have told me, or he could have sent someone else. Then again, Nicholas strikes me as the kind of man who always has to be the one pulling the strings.

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” I glance toward the window, where the rain is still coming down in thick sheets. “I suppose you think I should apologize for what I said at the wake.”

“I do, yes. And not only to me, but to my entire family.” Standing, he grabs his jacket and slides his arms into it. “I realize marrying me doesn’t fill you with glee, and clearly the same is true for me considering I had the choice and I chose Elizabeth, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find a way to make this bearable for both of us.”

Take a knife and plunge it into my chest, why don’t you?

Nicholas half smiles, oblivious that his casually spoken words have pressed on an open wound. I don’t intend to enlighten him, either. That’s my pain to manage. I’m not taking the risk of him belittling my feelings or telling me to grow up and deal with it.

“Perhaps,” I murmur. “Just dial back on trying to boss me around, and I won’t have to stab you while you sleep.”

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