Page 39 of The Devil's Deceit
“I’ll be the judge of that. Come on. Let me pick you up. I’m trying to be chivalrous here.”
He isn’t going to back down. Goddammit. I’m a good five miles from Juliet’s place. I’ll just tell him I’m a long-distance runner, even if I did get a stitch after a mile.
“Grace, you there?”
“Yeah, sorry. Lost you for a second. I’m…” I glance up and down the street. This is too close for comfort, but I’ve backed myself into a corner. Or rather, Christian is the one backing me into it. I can’t refuse without looking like I’m hiding something. I mean, I am, but that’s beside the point.
“I’m close to the King’s Arms on Bardolph Road in Brackley Combe.” Just saying the name of my town brings me out in hives. “Do you know it?”
“No, but my driver has a satnav that probably does.” He chuckles again. “Go and wait inside the pub. I don’t want you catching a cold.”
“It’s summer. I think I’ll be fine.”
“Even so. I’ll be there shortly.”
He hangs up, and I must spend a good five minutes staring at my phone while my emotions vacillate between abject panic at having the man I’m lying to in my neighborhood, and rising hope that he’ll accept my idea and give me and my family the foot in the door we need to get to the truth. Even then it won’t be easy, but desperate people do desperate things. And make no mistake, we are desperate.
The smell of beer greets me as I enter the pub. It’s quiet, with only a couple of old guys in the corner playing dominos, and another man propped up by the bar nursing a pint, looking glum, as though the weight of the world is on his shoulders.
Buddy, I feel you.
The guy serving wanders over, and I order a coffee, which gets the usual side-eye reserved for anyone who doesn’t order alcohol in a pub, but he trundles off and returns with my drink, half of which is spilled in the saucer. I pay him, even throwing in a thanks, which gets me a grunt in return.Suppressing a roll of my eyes, I pick my drink up, choosing a table with a view of the door.
Lord only knows what the billionaire Christian De Vil is going to feel about a town center pub. I bet he’s never set foot in a place like this in his life. I can picture him now, one foot on the threadbare carpet, his nose wrinkled in distaste.
Shows what I know, because five minutes later, he appears and does none of those things. Instead, he strolls inside like he belongs, his bodyguard about a foot off his right shoulder, and he smiles at the bartender who, get this, fucking smiles back, and then Christian makes his way over to me.
“Would you like to stay here or go somewhere else?”
I can’t get up fast enough. “Anywhere is better than here.”
There was me thinking Christian will be the odd one out. I should’ve known better. Of course, having a vagina makes me the odd one out in a pub that’s firmly ensconced in the nineteen-fifties.
Sliding into Christian’s car is like leaving one world behind and entering another. I sink into the seat, only marginally concerned that I’m probably leaving sweat stains on the leather. Christian gets in beside me and once he closes the door, the scent of his aftershave seems to fill the space. It’s a different one from his usual, and I swear it’s been blended to make women’s ovaries weep. I breathe in, deeply.
“It’s Eric Christian,” he says.
When I frown, he leans toward me, his stubbled cheek an inch from my nose. “The aftershave. It’s by Eric Christian. And no, I didn’t buy it because of the name. You like?”
“It’s… nice.”
“If that’s your reaction, I need to do better.”
“No, really. It’s… very nice.”
He throws back his head and laughs. “Much better. Are you hungry? You’re a long way from home. Running all that way must’ve made you hungry.”
I shake my head. “Big breakfast. Besides, I’m not dressed for a lunch date unless it’s a fast-food restaurant.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the way you’re dressed.” He runs his gaze over me in a way that makes me feel naked. No, not naked. Seen. “Dawson, drive around, would you?” The screen between the front and back activates, cocooning us.
As the car sets off, Christian shifts in his seat, bringing one leg up into the space between us. “I’ll get right to the point, Grace.”
Oh, God. He’s going to refuse. I know it. What the fuck am I going to do now?
“I spoke to one of my brother’s about your suggestion.”
Great. The brother has talked him out of it.
