Page 60 of The Devil's Torment

“That’s different. Eloise’s dad simply opened one door. I had to present my business plan in a way that made Anthony think I was capable of taking on this job. If I let you open some doors, you’ll probably threaten to murder those sitting behind them in their sleep if they don’t hire me.”

I chuckle. She’s not far off the mark. “Okay, I hear you, but promise me something.”

She wrinkles her nose, and it’s so bloody cute. How have I never noticed how adorable she is before now? Was I blind? On drugs? A fucking moron?

“Depends. I’m not promising anything until I know what it is.”

I flick the end of her nose. “You’ll make a fine businesswoman with that attitude. I want you to promise me that if thereisanything I can do to help, you’ll come to me. In return, I promise not to bulldoze in and take over. Deal?”

She considers it for a moment, head tilted to one side, then thrusts out a hand. “Deal.”

Grinning, I take it. I might have promised not to stick my nose in where it’s not wanted, but I never promised not to check out every single person she’ll come into contact with and thoroughly vet them.

This woman right here is one I don’t plan on losing. Ever.

ChapterTwenty-Two

VICKY

The reflection that stares back at me as I sit at my dressing table to put on my makeup doesn’t look anything like me. I have a sun-kissed shimmer from my honeymoon in Croatia, but it’s more than a tan. I’m glowing from the inside out.

The life I once dreamed of but never thought possible is now mine. At times, guilt still creeps in, reminding me this life was meant for Beth, not me. When the weight of it presses down like a heavy blanket, I tell myself that my sister loved me and would want me to be happy.

Since Nicholas and I returned from our honeymoon, other than a one-line text from Mum saying “welcome back,” I haven’t heard from my parents. I’m not sure if they’re giving me space to adjust to my new life at Oakleigh, or if they are just relieved I’m off their hands and no longer a burden. Whatever their reasons, and despite my well-worn armor, it stings that they haven’t come to see or check on me. To ask me how I am, if I’m all right, or if there’s anything I need from them.

Well, screw them. I have a new family now, and a new business. Anthony sent me pictures of the house over the weekend, as well as the interior plans. I have six weeks to deliver the final set of ideas to him and his wife, although I have much less time to pull together a first draft. If they approve them, work will begin in the new year. Nicholas’s positive reaction to Montague Interiors has spurred me on even more, and I cannot wait to get started.

Start small, aim big. That’s my motto, and I’m determined to build something that’s solely mine. Something I can look back on and say, “I did that”.

The door to my dressing room opens, and Nicholas enters. My heart pitter-patters, and my stomach sinks and lifts like I’m on a rollercoaster. Our eyes meet in the mirror, his glittering with lust. He might not love me, but he desperately wants me.

He saunters up behind me and brushes my hair out of the way. Bending down, he lightly kisses my neck. Goosebumps pop up everywhere, and I shiver. Reaching over my shoulder, he firmly grabs my right breast, and not in a playful way. It’s as though he’s claiming me. I arch my back, pushing my breast into his palm. His other hand wraps around my throat, and he tips my head back. A few seconds pass as we stare at each other, our eye contact deep and prolonged. Leaning over, his lips brush my ear.

“Be good today, wife.”

He releases me, spins around, and leaves the room. Air shoots from my lungs in a whoosh. I don’t even remember holding my breath, but I must have. How hot was that? I touch my throat, the imprint of his hand lingering on my skin. Tingles consume my body until they’re everywhere, and I squirm, wishing it was Nicholas’s hand between my legs instead of a stupid chair. There’s no relief to be gained from a chair.

Standing quickly, I head into the bedroom. It’s empty. Great. Now I’m going to spend the day feeling all flushed and needy. At least I have lunch with Eloise and Briony to look forward to. I suggested to them that Imogen should join our group, and they all readily agreed. She’s my sister-in-law, but she’s always been more than that to me. As soon as I met her not long after she married Alexander, I knew we were destined to be lifelong friends. I’d have invited Saskia to join us, too, but she’s away on De Vil business.

I dress in jeans and a high-neck, black, cashmere jumper and spend a couple of hours going over the plans for Anthony’s house. It’s a big place, with plenty of scope to let my creativity run free. I only hope Anthony’s wife likes what I eventually come up with. He may have hired me, but I’d wager she’s the decision maker when it comes to her home.

A few minutes before twelve, I make my way along the corridor toward Imogen and Alexander’s area of the house. They share the top floor with Nicholas and me, but due to Oakleigh’s sheer size, we rarely bump into one another unless we mean to.

I find Imogen sitting in the library, knees tucked up to her chest, reading a novel. She looks up as I enter, beams, and sets the book on the table to her left before standing. She’s dressed in an emerald, calf-length, woolen dress that clings to her curves and shows off the faintest baby bump. Imogen’s lucky. She has the height to pull off an outfit like that, and the color sets off her red hair to perfection. I’d look bloody ridiculous in it, but I’ve learned over the years what types of clothes suit me.

“Ready to go?” I ask.

“More than ready. I’m looking forward to it.”

In true Imogen style, she hugs me and kisses me on the cheek. I found her inclination to hug all the time awkward at first. It’s not normal for British people to be so tactile. But now, I look forward to my Imogen hugs. She has this way about her that makes you feel you’re the center of her world and, having lived my whole life as the center of no-one’s world, I’ll take it.

“You look gorgeous, as always.”

I snort. “Have you seen you?” I make a hand gesture. “You look like you walked out of a fashion magazine.”

Linking her arm with mine, she beams. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

“Well, you are eating for two.”

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