Page 27 of The Devil's Torment

In a moment of weakness and shame, I quiver with excitement. He may never learn to love me, but as my dad says every time he places a bet on a horse race, you’ve got to be in it to win it.

ChapterEleven

NICHOLAS

For as long as I can remember, every event I’ve ever attended where Victoria has been present, she’s had this look about her. A sour demeanor, as though she’s eaten a bad prawn and is too polite to spit it into a tissue. But as I watch her glide from group to group, laughing and smiling, sharing a word with as many guests as she can, I’m struck by a question: Which one is the real Victoria Montague?

Correction, Victoria De Vil, now.

An odd sensation skitters down my spine. It’s not at all unpleasant, but nor can I put my finger on its meaning. A mixture of confusion and a hint of excitement.

My eyes track her around the ballroom. Uncle George appears on my left holding two glasses of champagne. He gives me a nudge, then a wink.

“Look at you. Can’t take your eyes off her. Not that I blame you. She’s positively glowing.”

He’s right, she is. Absentmindedly, I nod, accepting one of the glasses from him.

“She makes a beautiful bride,” Dad says, approaching from my right.

“Yeah.” My eyes are still locked on her. No matter how hard I try, I can’t tear my gaze away. It’s as though I’m seeing her for the first time. “I’m still sleeping with one eye open, though.”

Uncle George lets out a laugh. “A little overdramatic. Thought our Tobias was the dramatic one.”

I pivot to face him. “She can’t stand me.”

And until today, the feeling was mutual. Signing a marriage certificate and wearing a wedding band can’t change how I feel, can it?

“In her opinion,” I continue. “I’m still partly culpable for what happened to Elizabeth. I’m not sure a platinum ring and a four-tiered wedding cake is going to change her mind.”

“She’s grieving, Nicholas,” Dad explains. “She and Elizabeth were always close. You of all people should be able to empathize. You know what it’s like to lose a sister. It’s not something you get over in a few weeks.”

I suppress a wince, automatically scanning the room for Xan as I’m prone to do whenever the subject of Annabel is brought up. I lost a sister, but he lost a twin. It’s something I try to remain cognizant about. We all loved her deeply, but his love was created in the womb, and that’s a special kind of connection only he and others like him can understand.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Show her a little bit of kindness and understanding, and she might surprise you. Every flower needs care, attention, sunlight, and the right amount of food and water to flourish.”

“It sounds like you’re saying to feed her and take her for daily walks.”

“She isn’t a Golden Retriever, Nicholas.”

“No. She’s a Rottweiler.”

Uncle George guffaws. Dad rolls his eyes and prods me in the back. “Circle the room. Your wife is showing you up.”

Wife. That’s going to take some getting used to. Even as my wedding to Elizabeth had approached, I can’t say I thought of her in those terms. Strange, I know, but to me she was just Elizabeth, the woman I’d chosen out of the two offered.

But Victoria as my wife? For some reason that hits differently. Deeper, and I’m not sure why. The sight of her walking up the aisle toward me, though… I’d almost swallowed my fucking tongue. She’d looked like a goddamn wet dream, the figure-hugging, ivory silk dress the perfect attire for her pint-sized stature.

Elizabeth had an innocence about her—an almost frail quality. It was exactly what drew me to her, knowing she’d be easy to subjugate, that she’d never challenge me. That, with her as my wife, I’d get an easy life.

Victoria is the complete opposite, and that’s understating it. A speck of honesty worms into my mind, a flicker of excitement at what being married to her will bring. The chance to spar with her but eventually emerge the victor is too good a chance to pass up.

Dad wanders off, joining a group of guests a few feet away. Uncle George prods my ribs.

“Well, boy, off you go. What are you waiting for? Talk to the guests. Don’t leave all the work to Victoria.”

Across the room, I spot Donovan Sinner, the heir to the Sinner Dynasty, standing with one of his brothers, Gray. The two of them are chatting to my sister, Saskia. I pan the room searching for Xan once more. He can’t stand it when Donovan gets within ten feet of Saskia—an irritation I’ve never understood. She’s not interested in him, and he’s not interested in her other than as a way to wind Xan up. Every time Xan's temper flares, Donovan doubles down on flirting with our sister.

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