Page 112 of The Devil's Deceit
“I saw your uncle and aunt today. At least I think it was them.”
A ripple of shock shoots up my spine. “What?”
“They were calling each other Beatrice and Arthur, and I could be wrong, but he was the spitting image of your dad. I don’t remember much about her from?—”
“Arthur is his middle name, and Beatrice is hers,” I say, striding across my office. Dad needs to hear this, stat.
“They’re staying on a small island off?—”
“I know where you are. Isla Oscura.”
Her surprised gasp crackles through the connection. “How do you know?”
I bark a laugh. “I know everything. Which routes you traveled, what dates, the fact you’re traveling on a fake passport.”
She falls silent, likely absorbing why I haven’t turned up and confronted her. Good. This plays into my hands. A little more suffering is in order, I think. I’m still carrying the bruises her uncle gave me.
But my heart… my heart’s begging me to stop. Just hearing her voice is torturous. I want to hold her, kiss her, apologize for my part in her parents’ death, and explain my reasoning. But she owes me just as big of an apology, and I’m not going to make it easy on her.
“They’re staying in a house on the northern part of the island. It’s called La Fortaleza.”
“Thanks.”
Another beat of silence, then, “When will you come?”
“Soon.” I push open the door to Dad’s office. “Sleep well, Duchess.” I hang up, excitement running through my veins. “Pack a bag, Dad. I know where George and Alice are.”
The sound of crickets is virtually drowned out by the waves crashing onto the shore. I blink, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, and watch my wife’s chest rise and fall as she sleeps, oblivious to my presence.
Picking the lock to get into her room was far too easy, although I guess security isn’t a big concern for an island that would fit into a tiny corner of Oakleigh. Dad, Xan, and four bodyguards are on their way to the house George and Alice are holed up in. Overkill maybe, but once I told Dad what Grace had said, there wasn’t a chance he’d gamble on George slipping through the net a second time.
The facial recognition software I used to locate Grace hadn’t worked for my aunt and uncle, and if I had to take a punt on why, I’d say George had hacked into it somehow. He was that embedded into every corner of our business, it wouldn’t be difficult to do. Whatever the reason, if it wasn’t for Grace, we wouldn’t be here, closing in on a man whose payment for his crimes is long overdue.
As darkness gives way to dawn, she stirs, adorable sighs spilling from her lips. My dick twitches. Christ, I’ve missed her, and it’s not even two weeks since I found out she’d been lying to me this entire time. Anger still simmers beneath the surface, but what Victoria and Imogen said has been simmering, too. If I’d been upfront with my family from the very beginning, maybe I’d have done things differently. ToldGrace and Arron the truth, even if it would’ve hurt. Even if it may have tarnished their memories of their parents. It’s lying that’s got us both into this mess.
Time for the truth to take a front seat. We’re both owed that.
She shifts her position, rolling toward the chair where I’m sitting. A few seconds later, her eyes flutter open. She bolts upright in bed. “Christian.”
She drags her knees to her chest, and mine tightens in response. That’s a fear reaction, and while I wanted her fearful, which was the whole reason for telling her to run, wanting something in the abstract and seeing it in person from the woman I love is an entirely different prospect.
“Shh.” I get to my feet and perch on the edge of the bed. When I reach out to brush her hair away from her face, she flinches. God, I’m a bastard. “It’s okay, Grace. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Even saying those words makes me want to boil my eyeballs and peel the skin from my balls. What’s that old saying Dad’s trotted out ever since we were kids?Act in haste, repent at leisure.
Well, I’m fucking repenting now.
“Do you have him?”
The fact she’s asking about George rather than herself speaks volumes about the woman I married. She might’ve used a false name and faked a background, but Grace… she’s a hundred percent real. Her morals, her character, her reason for seeking revenge. She’s a far better person than I am.
“Xan and Dad should have him by now.”
She nods, plucking at a stray thread on the quilt as she rubs her lips together. A few silent seconds pass by. When she eventually lifts her gaze to meet mine, she tenderly runs herfingertips over the fading marks on my face from the beating her uncle doled out.
“He hurt you.”
“Bruises heal.”
