Page 65 of The Devil's Torment

Like you’re interested.“It’s good. Great, actually.” A desire to hit back engulfs me, but as usual, I swallow it down. Bitter experience has taught me that it only makes me feel worse about myself. “I appreciate you letting me know. Saves me a wasted journey.”

“Of course, darling. Your card should arrive by post sometime today. I sent it a couple of days ago. I wasn’t sure what to get you. Maybe in a few weeks when you’re free we could go shopping, and you can choose something you’d like.”

“Yeah, good call,” I say dully. “Well, I’ll let you go.”

“Have a great day. Bye.” She hangs up without waiting for me to say goodbye to her. Lovely.

I trudge back upstairs feeling like the most worthless piece of crap ever.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

* * *

“Vicky? You in here?”

At the sound of Imogen’s voice, I emerge from the bathroom in my pajamas.

“Oh, there you are,” Imogen says, frowning. “Why are you dressed for bed? It’s six-fifteen.”

“So?” I shrug. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” All I have ahead of me is an evening of eating ice cream until I’m physically sick and bingingSchitt’s Creekfor the fifth time.

“Yes, you are.” She bustles past me into the dressing area, and by the time I follow her, she’s already pulled out several cocktail dresses, which she thrusts at my chest.

“Imogen, I don’t want to go out. I have a whole evening planned.”

Her nose wrinkles like she smelled something bad. “By yourself?”

“I’ve been by myself all day. Another few hours won’t make a difference.”

“It’s your birthday, and I know it probably hasn’t panned out like you’d hoped, and I’m sorry I can’t come to lunch with you and Eloise and Briony tomorrow, but I’m making up for it tonight. I think the plum dress will look great.”

I pull a sigh up from my toes. “Great for where?”

“De Luxe. It was Alexander’s idea. I told him it was your birthday, and he suggested a night at the casino.” She rubs her hands together. “No limit. Come on. It’ll be fun. Spending a ton of Nicholas’s money has got to make you feel better about your AWOL, asshole of a husband.”

“The De Vils own De Luxe. How is that spending his money?”

“Because.” She winks. “They have to cover all losses from their personal accounts, and you know this family. It isn’t about the money. It’s about winning. Think of how much of a bill you could run up in a few hours.”

Now,thatsounds a lot more interesting. It’s better than what I had planned, even if pistachio ice cream andSchitt’s Creekis an epic evening of entertainment. “Okay, count me in.”

She claps her hands. “Excellent. I’ll organize the car. Meet me downstairs when you’re ready.”

At eight o’clock, our car slows to a stop outside De Luxe. Max shadows Imogen, and Andrew does the same to me as we step onto the pavement and make our way up the red carpeted entrance. The door opens from the inside, and a uniformed attendant does this half bow thing like we’re royalty, then moves back to allow us to enter. I snuff out a laugh at his formality and follow Imogen inside.

I’ve never been to a casino before, and I haven’t a clue how to play any of the games, but who cares? The worse I am at them, the more of Nicholas’s money I’ll spend. Serves him right.

The sound of slot machines dinging and raucous laughter greets us as we make our way through what looks like the main part of the casino. Imogen doesn’t stop here, though. She carries on, sweeping by the roulette tables, where people cheer as the ball lands on black, and past serious looking men playing cards, with towers of chips stacked in front of them. The money this single business must take is staggering, and yet it’s a drop in the ocean of the vast wealth the De Vils have.

Well, let’s see how much of a dent I can make in the wealth of one particular De Vil.

“Where are we going?”

Imogen beckons for me to hurry up. “Private gaming room.”

“Ooh, fancy.”

She beelines for a set of oak double doors. Outside stand two uniformed security men, with bulges under their jackets. Guns are illegal in the UK other than for armed police, but the De Vils, and members of The Consortium, don’t adhere to conventional laws. They make their own rules, and no one bats an eyelid.

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