Page 21 of The Devil's Torment

Her face twists, and I can tell she isn’t happy, but as I don’t see her dip into her handbag for her phone, I take a guess she’s going along with my wishes.

The A & E department is teeming with patients of differing needs, and after I book myself in, they tell me to sit in the waiting area and someone will triage me as soon as they can.

“’As soon as they can,’ could be anywhere from an hour to several,” I say to Imogen. “You should go home.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“She’s safe with me, Mrs. De Vil,” Andrew says. “Max will see you get home safely.”

“That won’t be necessary, Andrew,” she clips out.

“As you wish, ma’am.” Andrew sits down beside me, and Max chooses the chair next to Imogen. We haven’t been there long when I hear my name being called—and not by the receptionist. I glance up and groan. This night keeps getting better and better.

“What the fuck happened?” Nicholas charges over, glaring at first Max, then at Andrew.

I shoot a look at Imogen. She holds up her hands. “It wasn’t me.”

“It happened fast,” Andrew says, a blush creeping over his cheeks.

So, he was the snitch. Wonderful. I make a mental note to have a little chat with Andrew. If he’s my security detail, then I want his loyalty with me. It’s probably hopeless considering the De Vils pay his wages, but it’s worth a shot.

“All fucking security breaches happen fast.” Nicholas drops to his haunches in front of me, fingers clasping my chin as he twists my head this way and that. Surprisingly, his touch is as gentle as Imogen’s was.

“Who did this to you?” Something dark and barely contained threads through his voice.

“Some random idiot. It’s fine, Nicholas. I’m fine. Don’t blame Max or Andrew. It wasn’t their fault.”

His face contorts as though he’s eaten a particularly bitter lemon. I feel sorry for the bodyguards. Nicholas isn’t the kind of man to let them off with a mild scolding.

“What has the doctor said? Why are you out here rather than in a room?”

“I haven’t been seen by a doctor yet.”

“What?” he bellows, causing several people nearby to glance our way. Not that Nicholas gives a shit about drawing attention because he only gets louder. “Why the fuck did you bring her here?” He jabs a finger in Andrew’s face. “You should have taken her to Ashcroft.”

Ashcroft is a private hospital catering to people who can drop five grand on a one-night stay. Can’t say I’ve been there myself, but I’ve heard of it.

“They don’t have an accident and emergency department,” Andrew says.

“And?” Nicholas glowers at him. “They have fucking doctors, don’t they? And X-ray equipment. MRI scans.” He reaches for my arm. “Get up. I’m taking you to Ashcroft.”

His trademark control is nowhere in sight. He’s almost vibrating with rage as he tugs on me to get up. I stay right where I am.

“I’m fine here.”

A muscle ripples through his cheek, and his pupils are blown wide enough that his eyes look black rather than brown. “No, you are not. I won’t have my future wife sitting on plastic chairs all night waiting for an X-ray when Ashcroft will have it done within the hour.”

“I’m not your property yet,” I reply, aware I’m being combative for the sake of it while secretly pleased he not only came to see me, but is fighting my corner, too. “You can’t order me around.”

“Your misbelief is cute, but I’m not in the fucking mood to argue the toss. Do I have to throw you over my shoulder? Or are you going to get up and walk out of here on your own two feet?”

He’d do it, too. The De Vils aren’t the kind of people who make idle threats. “Fine,” I grumble, getting to my feet. “Ashcroft it is.”

“Right answer.” He slides an arm around my waist. “Andrew, Max, take Imogen home.”

“I’d like to stay,” Imogen says.

“Xan will want you home, and that’s where you’re going.” He glares at Max, then Andrew. “Are you both still here?”

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