Page 7 of The Devil's Deceit
Another of those reserved smiles pull at the corners of her mouth. The urge to kiss her is almost impossible to ignore, but if I do, she might run, and I’m not in the habit of chasing.
I’d make an exception for her, though.
A faint vibration comes from her bag. She opens the clasp and reaches inside, pulling out her phone. “It’s my friend. She’s wondering where I am.” She gets to her feet, but I capture her wrist and tug her back to a seated position.
“Tell her you’re with me and you’re safe.” I flash a broad grin. “I’m only a monster when the moon is full.”
Even the dim light cast out by the half-moon doesn’t hide the way the blood drains from her face. She shoots upright so fast, she probably got a head rush.
“I have to go.”
Before I can react, she’s off, striding up the pathway toward the door leading into the house
I race after her. “Grace, wait.” She’s through the door before I catch up. I leave it open and dart in front of her. “What did I say?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I—thank you for showing the gardens to me.”
And with that, she edges around me as though she’s afraid she’ll catch something if our clothes brush against one another and hurries away.
What. The actual. Fuck?
Chapter Three
GRACE
Panic claws at my throat, and the only breaths I can manage are little sips of air that leave me lightheaded.
I can’t do this.
I’m only a monster when the moon is full.
It was said in jest but felt far too close to home for me to deal with calmly. The night the building collapsed, burying my parents in the rubble, was a full moon.
This is a terrible idea. I’m not strong nor cunning enough to pull this off. We’re going to need to find another way to get at the truth, although I don’t know what that looks like. Arron tried everything to break into Christian’s phone and emails, but got stalled at every turn. Their encryption software must be insanely good, which is unsurprising when you think about it.
Getting close enough to Christian to search for evidence of his guilt was the only other plan we’d come up with after hours of brainstorming. This family is powerful enough to bury anything, including murder, and have it never see the light of day. We’re nobodies in comparison.
The police won’t listen; we already tried them. Our MP isn’t interested, replying to our letter pleading for him to investigate with empty platitudes and hollow sympathy. There are no other avenues other than the one we’ve spent more than six months exploring.
Pull yourself together, Grace.
I draw in a deep breath through my nose then let it out slowly.
In for three, out for three. In for three, out for three.
It takes a few minutes, but the hysteria that hit me as those words fell out of Christian’s smirking mouth recedes, leaving me with a clearer mind.
Icando this.
I have to. There are no other options. This all falls on me. If I come apart at the seams, we’ll go to our graves never knowing what happened to Mum and Dad. And look on the bright side. Not only did he not recognize me from the funeral, but he doesn’t appear to have pegged me for the woman causing the commotion at the restaurant, either. It works in my favor that he’s clearly a self-absorbed prick.
Tinkling laughter drifts toward me. I follow the sound until I arrive back at the ballroom, where I scan the crowds, looking for Juliet, unable to see her anywhere. While keeping my eyes peeled for signs of Christian, I skirt the edges of the dance floor. I’m on my second circuit when I spot Juliet on the far side of the room standing on the periphery of a group of guests.
Relief floods through me as I sidle through the droves and touch her arm.
“There you are.” She frowns. “Why aren’t you wearing your mask?”
I thread my arm through hers and tug her a short distance away. “We have to go.”
