Page 13 of Heart of a Devil

I laugh and head out of her office. I love cooking, especially for my girl. It’s one of the greatest joys in the world to see someone so special to you enjoying food you’ve prepared for them. I wonder what Lauren’s favorite dish is and whether I could make it for her. I bet whoever she’s seeing tonight isn’t as good in the kitchen—or anywhere else—as I am. Why the fuck is she going on a date at all?

I stop dead in my tracks in the corridor and slap myself on the forehead. What the hell? I came here to clear the air, to get her out of my system. I planned to see her, prove to myself she was nothing special, and move on. Not to plan a romantic night in with her. Maybe Sam’s right—she should call the paramedics.

I don’t have long to think about my impending mental decline, because a human whirlwind comes steaming down the hallway and crashes right into my legs. At least I’m assuming it’s human from the fact that it has a mop of curly blond hair, twoarms, and two legs. One of the arms is encased in a plaster cast, and I’m careful to avoid it as I squat down on the floor next to the kid. There’s a playroom set up for children at the back of the building, where they can hang out while their mums and dads sort out the grown-up stuff, but he must have got bored. He looks the type—fizzing with energy and mischief.

He’s maybe eight or nine, his big blue eyes looking up at me with a mix of concern and curiosity. “Bloody hell, son, where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Nowhere. I was just seeing if my new trainers had superpowers.” I glance down at the box-fresh white tennis shoes at the end of his skinny legs. “Right. Well, looks to me like they do. I’ve never seen anyone move so fast in my life.”

His face lights up with delight, those cautious eyes now bright. “Honest? You’re not bullshitting me?”

“Nicky,” a woman calls from down the corridor. “You know what I’ve told you about that word. I’m so sorry, is he bothering you?”

“Nah,” I reply. “No problem.” She nods but doesn’t go back inside the office. She hovers in the doorway, keeping a careful eye on her lad. The kid pulls a face and whispers to me, “That’s my mum. She says she doesn’t like swearing, but she does it all the time when she thinks I’m not listening, so I call bullshit on that one.”

I laugh and help him to his feet. He swipes blond curls away from his face and looks me up and down without any shame. “You’re a big man. I think you’re even bigger than my dad.”

“Well, you’ll be a big man one day too. It just takes time and a bit of effort. Maybe a few steaks. What happened to your arm, pal?”

His faces shuts down in an instant, all that energy gone, and he stares intensely at the floor. “I fell over. I’m really clumsy.”

I suck in a harsh breath as a ball of pressure slams into my chest, hitting me as hard as one of Alex’s punches. Yeah, I was a really clumsy kid too. I was always accidentally falling on my dad’s fists, boots, and lit cigarettes. One time I was so fucking clumsy, I tied myself to the radiator and beat my own back with a cane until it bled. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your mum, eh?”

As we approach, her eyes fly over him as though she’s checking for new injuries. She’s a pretty woman, petite with fair hair and a cute button nose. Exactly the type those assholes often seem to go for. There are dark circles around her eyes, and she’s wearing a cuffed long-sleeved blouse buttoned right up to her throat. Assuming she’s not Amish, I can think of two reasons for that—the husband is a controlling bastard who’s told her to keep herself covered, or she’s hiding bruises. Fuck, looking at the nervous way she’s chewing on her lip and wringing her hands together, could be both.

The idea of what these two are going through makes me so mad I want to punch something, but I make an extra effort to be quiet and respectful as we all walk back into Lauren’s office. I knew it was hers, obviously, but it still takes my breath away when I see her again. She has her curls pinned up, and she’s wearing a plain little black dress that should look perfectly businesslike, but on her looks like pure sin. I nod at her once, abruptly, and look away again. This really isn’t the time for getting yet another unwanted hard-on.

“Seb. I see you’ve met Nicky, and this is his mom, Caroline.” I consider offering her my hand to shake, but I suspect she’ll bolt at the slightest movement. Being in a room with a man like me is probably difficult enough for her. “Nice to meet you, Caroline. Sebastian Donovan. You’ve got a great lad there.”

Her face lights up, and she tugs him to her for a cuddle. He pretends to hate it, but it’s obvious he’s proud and pleased.That’s what these two should always be doing—beaming away like this. It burns me that some bullying twat is reducing them to rubble just because he can. “Look, this is undoubtedly a complicated situation, Caroline, and we’ve only just met—but what can I do to help?”

Shock crosses her delicate, worried features, followed quickly by suspicion. “Are you a lawyer too?”

“I’m not. I leave that to the clever types like Lauren here. But there are other ways to be helpful. Maybe if you ever need protection or a secure place to stay? Even if Nicky here fancies a kickabout with a football in a safe space—a space where he won’t be soclumsy—then you could call me. I don’t expect payment, and I won’t ever tell you what to do. Only you can decide what’s right for you. But if you need me, I’ll be there, no strings attached.”

I’ve avoided Lauren’s intense gaze ever since I walked into this room, but I can feel her staring at me. I have no clue if I’ve overstepped here or if she thinks I’m a prick for trying to be a white knight with one of her clients. I turn around, expecting to find a mocking smile or a cynical quirk of her eyebrows. I’m completely unprepared for what I actually find—a tortured look in her eyes and tears oozing from their corners. She shakes her head and swipes the tears away, and before I can say anything, she waves me off. I hate seeing her distressed and fight the urge to leapfrog over that desk and take her in my arms.

“Caroline, don’t dismiss what Seb is offering,” she says, her voice unsteady. “I’m a lawyer, and I believe in the legal process. I know you haven’t decided what to do yet, and Seb’s right, only you can decide that—but I hope you agree to move forward with us. I’m confident we can get you out of this situation using the courts—but from what you’ve told me so far, there’s a chance that things might get more… complicated.” Her eyes are onNicky as she speaks, and she’s obviously being careful about what she says around him.

Caroline pulls her boy closer. “And you trust him, Lauren? You trust this man?”

I’m interested in the answer to that one too. In this situation, with this woman and her kid, I am one hundred percent trustworthy. With women, in my life so far? Definitely not, and I’m guessing Lauren might know that about me already. She and Sam will have talked. Can she separate that from everything else?

Lauren looks intently at me, as though she’s measuring up every scrap of my soul, counting every grain of decency. “I do, yes. I trust him, and I think you should too. Do I have your permission to discuss your case with him?”

Caroline nods gently, a barely there gesture that reminds me of a sparrow pecking for food. “Yes. If you think it could help, then yes. Now, we’d better go. He’s busy in the city today, but if I’m away from home for too long, one of his men will tell him. Thank you. Both of you.”

Lauren asks her to look at some paperwork before she leaves, and I use the time to crouch down in front of Nicky. I take a pen off the desk and scrawl down my number. Then I gently raise his arm and tuck the scrap of paper beneath his cast, where it fits flat and snug and hidden. “That’s our secret, Nicky. Nobody will see that there, but if they do, you tell them it’s Dua Lipa’s number, okay? I’m also going to give that to your mum, and maybe we could get you a phone of your own that nobody else knows about. Just for you, so you can call me whenever you like.”

“Will it have games on it?”

“Sure. Now, I’m going to give you some advice, all right, kid?”

He experiments with his cast, satisfied that the paper is concealed, and nods. “Yeah.”

I sweep back his unruly curls and look at him full-on. I want him to remember what I’m about to say and wish somebody had cared enough to say it to me when I was his age.

“Nicky, if ever you feel like you’re in danger, like someone is going to hurt you, I want you to run, okay? I know we’re told we’re supposed to be brave and fight. But fighting isn’t always the best idea. When someone much bigger or stronger wants to hurt us, we need to run. We run, we find a safe space, and we hide. We call for help, and we survive. Because when we survive, son, we get stronger. And when we get stronger, we get our revenge. I’m not making this up, it’s not bullshit, I promise—because what’s happening to you and your mum once happened to me, when I was a kid. But I survived. I got stronger. I got my revenge.”

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