Page 34 of The Devil's Deceit
In another few years, I may feel differently. Who knows? But if Dad gets his way, I won’t get to find out. He’ll have meup the aisle and married to some debutante before I can say, “Fuck, no”. I’ve known the direction I’m destined to take, but knowing something might happen at a distant point of the future, only to have that future pop up out of nowhere and smack me in the face is… well, it’s a fucking nightmare.
I should talk to Dad; get him to see reason. There is no valid purpose to marrying me off right now. I’m not buying the whole “it’ll be good for you” spiel he trotted out.
Closing my laptop, I push my chair back from my desk. May as well get it over with. I pick up my phone, and as I do, it pings with an incoming text. The second I see it’s from Grace, I can’t open the message fast enough.
Grace: I wonder if you’re free for a coffee. I have something I’d like to talk to you about.
I’m always free for this woman. Even if I wasn’t, I’d make myself free. I check my calendar, move a meeting from twelve o’clock today to the same time tomorrow, and hit reply.
Me: That sounds intriguing… An hour? Same place we went for coffee last time?
Three dots appear the moment I hit send.
Grace: I’ll be there.
Curiosity plucks at my gut. What can she want to talk about? Unless… my stomach sinks. I wonder if she’s having second thoughts about continuing our fledgling relationship, considering I’m about to be off the market. She said she wanted to keep seeing me, but things said in the moment can change once reflected upon. That’s it. I’m certain ofit. And if that is the subject she intends to broach, thenIintend to persuade her otherwise.
Before I head downstairs, I send a message to my driver. By the time I step outside, he’s pulling up with my bodyguard in the passenger seat. I climb into the back and give him the address of the coffee shop.
On the journey, I try to work, but I’m distracted by what Grace could want. I hope my gut feeling is wrong. We may have only been on a couple of dates, but I enjoy spending time with her. I don’t want this to be it, leaving me with too much time on my hands to contemplate my future.
Dawson stops right outside the coffee shop, and Marshall accompanies me inside. My pulse jumps at the sight of Grace sitting in the same place we occupied last week, two lattes already on the table. She looks nervous as she stands to greet me, wiping her hands on her jacket as though they’re clammy. She’s cutting me off, I know it.
Fuck.Fuck.
“Hi.”
I bend to kiss her cheek, and she doesn’t pull away. Promising? Maybe. More likely manners, though. It’s clear to me that Grace may have been raised poor, but she was raised right. Most of the debutantes who pass through my life could learn a thing or two about class from this woman standing in front of me, gnawing on her bottom lip repeatedly.
I motion for her to retake her seat, and I choose the one opposite. The chair legs scrape over the floor as I pull it from under the table.
“Thank you for coming.” She plucks at the sleeve on her shirt. “I know you’re busy.”
“Never too busy for you, Duchess.”
She scratches behind her ear. Whatever she has to say tome, she’s worried about it. I reach over the table and take her hand, then fold it inside both of mine. “You wanted to talk to me?” I keep my voice gentle, coaxing a reply from her.
“Yes, although now I’m here, and you’re here, I’m losing my nerve. It sounded good in my head, but it’s silly.”
“There’s nothing you could say to me that I’d find silly.”
Her lips flicker up, but the smile is gone as fast as it came. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About getting married.”
Here we go.She’s breaking up with me for sure.
“Right.”
Tugging her hand from between mine, she brackets her nose and rubs. “This… I mean…” She swallows, and my gaze drops to her slender neck. A neck that would look fucking incredible with my hand around it as I drove into her. A fantasy destined never to become reality, more’s the pity.
“Grace.” I wait for her to give me her eyes. “Whatever it is, you can say it to me. Just spit it out. You’ll feel better afterward, believe me.” Once I know what I’m dealing with, I can take action, but until she tells me what’s on her mind, I’m blundering around in the dark.
“What if… what if we got married?”
My mouth falls open, eyes bulging. Of all the things I expected her to say, a marriage proposal wouldn’t have made the top one hundred. Not even the top one thousand.
“Marriage? Us?” Shock pushes a laugh from my stomach, and the second it breaks free, I regret it.
Grace pales, shoving her chair back to stand. “I’m sorry. Of course, it’s a laughable idea. Forget I said anything.” She dashes off, and in the few seconds it takes me to react, she’s wrenched the door open and is halfway down the street by the time I lurch from thecoffee shop.
