Page 49 of The Devil's Torment

“I hope this is okay for where we’re going.” I tug on the three-quarter sleeves, smiling at the staff member who pulls out a chair for me.

Nicholas waits for him to leave, then leans forward, his elbows propped on the cherrywood dining table. “Well, I’d prefer you naked, but I don’t think walking around in the buff is legal in Croatia.” He grins. “When we’re on the yacht, however…” He leaves the rest of the sentence to my imagination, but it doesn’t take much creativity to figure out what he means.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he says, gesturing to several plates loaded with fruit, pastries, bacon, eggs, and toast. “But make sure you eat plenty. I don’t want you fainting on me.”

“Not much chance of that.” I lean forward, piling my plate high with hot food, and grab an almond croissant, too. “I’m a big eater.”

His eyes travel south. “Me, too.”

I don’t think it’s food he’s talking about, and my stomach flips over several times. “I thought you’d be full after last night.”

His tongue darts out to dampen his lips, and the urge to forget breakfast and gorge myself on him instead engulfs me.

See? Insatiable.

“Oh, I have a large appetite that’s rarely sated.”

Looks as though I’m not the only one. Maybe we’re the perfect match after all, even if we weren’t fated to be together. And maybe, just maybe, that compatibility might be enough for him to fall in love with me one day.

I can wait. It’s not as if either of us are going anywhere.

While we eat, I take the opportunity to ask Nicholas a little about Croatia and his love of sailing. He comes alive as he talks, and I can’t help but gawk at how animated he is. I’ve never seen this side to him, which only makes me fall that little bit deeper. Every instinct screams at me not to let myself fall too deep, but I’m simply a passenger on this journey. Wherever it takes me is beyond my control.

At nine-thirty, we leave the house and make our way to the old town a short half-mile stroll away. Barron and Andrew tail us, their looming presence an unfortunate necessity. The De Vils are not only stinking rich, but their position in The Consortium makes them almost infamous, and with infamy comes danger.

Beth is proof of that. She wasn’t even a De Vil, yet her association was enough for her to be a target.

Grief spreads through my chest, vying with guilt for the top spot. Here I am in this stunning place, my hand enclosed in Nicholas’s, enjoying all the wonders that life has to offer, and my sister is in the ground. I should ask Nicholas if he’s any closer to finding out who killed her, but (and, God, please forgive me) for once, I want something that’s just for me. We’re only here for a few days. Is it selfish of me to want to enjoy my honeymoon before reality hacks its way through my happiness?

I fear the answer is yes, yet I remain silent.

We explore the narrow streets and stunning architecture of this old medieval town, bursting with vibrant life, and visit Dubrovnik Cathedral and the Dominican monastery. When my legs start to ache, we stop off at a local café for lunch, devouring plates of peka— traditional Croatian dish of meat, potatoes, and vegetables cooked on an open fire. With our bellies full and my heart fit to bursting, we make our way to the marina, where Nicholas moors his sailboat all year round.

Pride fills his voice when he points her out on our approach. “There she is. Seventy-five feet of pure bliss.”

“She’s gorgeous.” My gaze drifts along the side and up near to the front. The bow? I frown as I read the boat’s name.

“The Devil’s Torment?” I peer up at Nicholas, shielding my eyes from the sun. “From the man who leads a charmed life?”

His eyes darken before his gaze locks on the horizon, an unreadable expression drifting over his face. “We all have our demons, Victoria.”

I inwardly curse my insensitivity. Nicholas hasn’t led a charmed life at all. He’s suffered, lost people he loves, not least his mother and his sister within two weeks of one another. It might be almost twenty years since Annabel De Vil was raped and murdered, and his mother chose to end her suffering rather than to live with the grief, but I doubt the passage of time lessens the pain of a loss so great. I’m damn sure I’ll still desperately miss Beth twenty years from now.

“I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

He shakes his head as though to dispel painful memories crowding his mind. “Come on.” Taking my hand, he leads me down the weathered walkway and up the metal gangplank to board the boat. Barron and Andrew stand at the bottom, making no move to follow us.

“They’re not coming?” I cock my head toward the two men who are looking everywhere but at us.

“No. They’re not happy about it, but I want to be alone with you.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

He grins, all signs of his earlier distress absent. “Only for you.” He slings an arm over my shoulder and kisses my hair.

I visibly swoon. All my dreams are coming true, and I can’t believe this is my life. My new husband might not believe in love, but the man has romance down to a fine art.

And for now, that’s enough. Whether it will always be enough remains to be seen.

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