Page 50 of The Devil's Deceit
“It doesn’t hurt to go over everything one more time,” Uncle Daniel says, and I nod.
“I agree with that.”
“Okay, leave it with me,” Arron says. “I’ll get on it tonight.”
“Great.” I stretch my arms overhead and yawn. “If that’s all, I’m going for a bath.” I rise from the chair and pick up my handbag, but as I pass Arron on the way to the hallway, he grabs my wrist.
“Well done, Gracie.”
My answering smile is wan and filled with exhaustion. “Thanks.”
I trudge up the stairs and into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I turn on the tap and add bubbles and salts, then sit on the edge of the tub. My vision glazes over, each blink of my eyes slow. Who would have thought that pretending to be someone you’re not would be so exhausting? How did actors cope? How willIcope for what could be weeks or months until I find what I’m looking for?
A wave of trepidation fills my chest. As I edge closer, now more than ever, I need to stay strong. Once I’m living with Christian, surrounded by his family and those who work and are loyal to the De Vils, I’m on my own. There won’t be a single person I can talk to. Not one ally. It’ll all be down to me, and that’s scary. So much scarier than I thought it would be when this was a conceptual idea borne out of searing grief and profound hatred.
I turn off the water, strip out of my clothes, and sink beneath the bubbles. One day at a time. That’s the only way I’ll be able to deal with this without going mad.
One day at a time.
***
I stick my foot out of bed, and instantly snap it back under the covers. Bloody hell, it’s freezing, and it’s only the third of September. Has autumn arrived already? Snaking out my hand to snatch my phone off the bedside table, I snuggle farther down into the bed, pulling the cover over my head, and navigate to the heating app. It’s ridiculous to have to turn the heating on this early in September, but one of my self-written rules is that I refuse to be cold. I’d rather have soup for dinner and the heating on full blast than sit down to a meal of steak and shrimp and not afford to heat the house.
The pipes creak and groan as they burst to life. Thirty minutes, and it should be warm enough to get out of bed. If this is the beginning of the cold season, it’s going to be a long winter. My dream is to be rich enough to live in warmer climes during the bitterly cold months, stretched out on a sun lounger, sipping cocktails.
In the next life, maybe.
My phone blares out Taylor Swift’s “Anti-Hero”.
Shit, I forgot to put it on silent when I came to bed last night. I swipe to answer it before it wakes Arron up.
“Jesus, Juliet, you just gave me a heart attack.”
“Nine-nine-nine emergency, girl. Your man is outside my place.”
I sit bolt upright in bed. “What?”
“Yep. And the worst of it is he saw my curtains twitch, so he knows someone is here. Ah shit, he’s coming inside. What should I do?”
Think fast.“Tell him I went out for milk or something. I’ll drive over to yours now.”
“Okay. Put your foot down.”
I hang up and launch out of bed. Five minutes later, I’m in the car. I race over the speedbumps that line my street and almost fishtail out onto the main road. Luckily, it’s early on Saturday morning, so the roads are quiet, and I make it to Juliet’s in less than ten minutes. As I indicate to turn left into her road, I curse.
Milk. I need fucking milk.
Sailing past, I take the second road on the right and pull up outside the local convenience store. Two minutes later, armed with my milk alibi, I pull up behind Christian’s imposing SUV. I sidle up to the driver’s window and knock on it. Dawson smiles as he opens the window.
“Hi, Dawson. Is he inside?”
“He is, miss.”
“Thanks.”
I take the stairs two at a time. Marshall dips his chin at me from his post outside her door. I mutter a greeting and push open the door to Juliet’s apartment with my hip, then head inside.
“There she is,” Juliet announces, getting to her feet and giving me a wide-eyed stare over the top of Christian’s head. “Oh, good. You got the milk.” She swipes it out of my hand and disappears into the kitchen.
