Page 12 of The Devil's Deceit
My groin heats. She’s got this almost throaty quality to her voice that gets my dick excited. “Hi.”
“What can I do for you?”
Formal. Gotcha. “My driver says you got home safely from the ball.”
She gives a soft laugh. “Driver… or spy?”
“Driver. The spy is watching you right now.”
“Do I need to get a restraining order?”
I chuckle. She’s enchanting. “Not yet. Let’s see how it goes. I wonder if you’re free Wednesday night.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On your proposal.”
Oh, I like this girl. I like her a lot. “The wife of a family friend is performing at the Royal Albert Hall. I can get us box tickets if you’re interested.”
“Who is it?”
“Destiny Winslow. She’s a concert pianist. Immensely talented.”
I hear the wisp of breath as air whistles between her teeth. “Oh, my goodness. I know her work. I adore her.”
I figured that three-line piece I found online regarding her amateur piano playing would come in handy.
“Then, you’ll come.”
“I’d be a fool to refuse. Her concerts sell out within minutes.”
“Wonderful. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
“It’s okay. I have a meeting in London on Wednesday afternoon, so if it’s all the same to you, I’ll meet you there.”
She’s either telling the truth and the meeting is real, or she’s lying to stop me from coming to her apartment. It could be that she’s ashamed of her lack of wealth. If that’s the case, I intend to assure her there’s no shame in being poor. She’s class from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. I couldn’t give a toss how many zeros she does or doesn’t have on her bank account.
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Perfect. It’s a date.”
I hang up and toss my phone on the desk. If I thought the last twenty-four hours dragged, the next seventy-two will test every single strand of my patience.
Hmm. Obsessed, indeed.
Chapter Five
GRACE
After I hang up the call with Christian, I must gaze at my phone for a solid sixty seconds. I’d truly thought I’d blown it with my speedy exit from Oakleigh last night, but it seems as though I’ve made an impression on him after all.
I mean, that’s the plan, and I should be happy. Dammit, Iamhappy. A date. A proper date where it’s just us is a definite step forward. And who knows, it could be my first opportunity to unearth information that takes me one stage closer to finding out why my parents ended up under the rubble of a building commissioned by Christian De Vil.
The floorboards upstairs creak. Arron’s up. About time, too. My brother’s never been an early riser, but almost midday is pushing it even by his standards. I’m tempted to race upstairs and tell him about the phone call, but I curb my excitement and put the kettle on instead.
