Page 60 of The Devil's Deceit
“Okay. Hey, Christian?”
“Yes?”
“Is everything all right?”
He hesitates before he answers. “I’ll see you in an hour.”
That brief pause is enough for me to know the truth. We’re fucked.
The front door slams, and Arron appears. I hold up my phone. “That was Christian. I think it’s a no.”
Arron briefly closes his eyes. “It might not be. Don’t panic yet. What did he say?”
“The dreaded ‘we need to talk’. And we know what that’s code for, don’t we?”
Arron pinches his nose between his thumb and forefinger and blows out a steady stream of air. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Get over to Juliet’s in case there’s traffic. As soon as you know anything,call me.”
“Okay.” I grab my car keys. “Arron, don’t tell Uncle Daniel about this. Not yet. Let’s get the facts first.”
He nods. “Agreed.”
I drop a text to Juliet to let her know I’m on my way over to her place. She’s my best friend and all, but even I don’t feel comfortable letting myself into her apartment while she’s at work without her knowledge. She replies with a thumbs up. I get in my car and drive over there, my mind spinning with possibilities, yet I keep returning to one central fear: if it’s a no from Daddy De Vil, what are we going to do?
Reveal myself and outright ask Christian for the truth?
Stalk him until we get lucky and overhear him admit what happened at Nexus?
Loiter outside the Houses of Parliament until that MP I saw Christian having dinner with appears, and make him tell the truth about the HSE report?
Break into Oakleigh—good luck with that—and ransack his office?
Steal his phone and have Arron hack into it? Although that’s pointless considering his earlier hacking attempts were unsuccessful. If he’d been able to hack into Christian’s personal email or his text messages, we’d possibly know the truth already.
I park my car in Juliet’s space and jog up the stairs. It’s weird being here without her. Juliet is a force of nature, a consistent stream of energy and excitement. There’s hardly a moment of silence when she’s around, which can sometimes be a bit much for a little old introvert like me, but right now, I wish she were here. She’d find a way to spin this in a positive direction, whatever Christian says. She’s positivity in a bottle. If she could sell that, she’d be a millionaire.
Flicking the kettle on, I reach for a mug offthe wooden stand on the kitchen counter and drop a tea bag into it. The gigantic clock on the wall, where the small dining table and four chairs are, reads one forty-five. Fifteen minutes until the strategy carved out over months blows up in my face, leaving my revenge plan in tatters. I pour boiling water on the tea bag and commit the cardinal sin of adding milk before it’s brewed. Juliet would have a heart attack if she were here. She’s a tea connoisseur, insisting the bag must brew for a solid five minutes before the milk goes in. And always,alwaysremove the tea bag first, unless it’s one of those herbal teas. Those she allows to stay in the mug.
I’m smiling to myself as I head into the living room and drift over to the window to keep an eye out for Christian. Perching on the windowsill, I sip my tea and try to quell the nerves swirling in my stomach.
At one minute to two o’clock, his black SUV drives up the street and parks behind my car. He gets out, his gaze scanning upward. I hold up my hand in greeting and beckon him inside. Setting down my tea, I go to the door and open it, waiting for him and trying not to bite my nails.
Stay cool. Let him talk. No leading the witness or putting words in his mouth.
His expression could not be more serious when he reaches the top of the stairs. I step back to allow him inside, then close the door on Marshall, who’s already taken up his post to the right of the door, hands laced behind his back.
“Do you want a cup of tea? The kettle just boiled.”
“No, I’m good.” His imposing figure fills the small living room. I never asked him, but it must be strange to be in small spaces when Oakleigh is your home. I wonder if he gets claustrophobic.
“No Juliet?”
I flash him a smile. “She’s at work. You got off lightly today.”
His lips flicker up before flattening once more. He holds out his hands, and I step forward, placing mine inside his. He brings them up to his chest, the movement drawing me closer.
“Grace, I have something very important to ask you, and I want you to think carefully before answering me because I will know if you’re lying.”
My mouth goes dry, a cold sweat breaking out along the back of my neck. He knows. Charles’s research has uncovered the real me. Oh, God.
