Page 62 of The Devil's Deceit
“Yes. A De Vil wedding is a large affair. It takes an entire team to put one together. Don’t worry, though. All you’ll have to do is turn up on the day and say the right words at the right time.” He gives me another one of those smiles that’s in danger of setting my underwear onfire. “I’ll be in touch.”
My thighs are still trembling when he emerges onto the street. He turns, looks up at the window as though he knew I’d be there watching him, and waves. I wave back. Once his car turns left at the end of the street, I take out my phone and send a text to Arron, and the same one to Juliet.
Me: Guess I’m getting married.
Chapter Twenty
GRACE
Unknown caller.
I pick up my phone and stare at the screen as it rings out. Eventually, the ring tone stops, only to immediately restart again. Probably spam. Regardless, I don’t answer the phone to anyone not in my contacts.
A minute or so later, a text message arrives:
You have voicemail.
Frowning, I navigate to my voicemail and hit play.
“Hi, Grace, this is Vicky De Vil. Hope you’re okay. I hear congratulations are in order. I knew Charles would fall in love with you. Anyway, so Imogen and I were talking, and we think you deserve a hen do. I mean, I know it’s an arrangement between you and Christian, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have a good send off. We thought this coming Saturday if that works for you. That leaves you a full week to recover from the obligatory hangover. Call me back.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I listen to the messageagain. Guilt crushes my chest. Yet more innocent bystanders getting drawn into my web of deceit.
But what else can I do?
These women will be my sisters-in-law, which means their loyalties are to their husbands. There’s not a cat in hell’s chance of them siding with me if I were to share the real reason I’m marrying Christian. Keeping them at arm’s length is the best way to get through this marriage for however long it lasts. That decision will make my life at Oakleigh even lonelier, but what’s a liar supposed to do?
I return Vicky’s call, my heart pounding. It barely rings once before she answers.
“Hey, that was quick. Screening?”
I chuckle. In another life, I’d choose this woman as a friend. She’s warm and outgoing, and reminds me a lot of Juliet. “Something like that.”
“I do the same. Not in the caller list is an instant no, thanks. Anyway, did you get my voicemail?”
“I did, yes, but I’m?—”
“Great. Imogen and I thought nothing fancy. Maybe go for a meal at a nice restaurant, a chance for us to get to know you, and you to get to know us.”
I get the impression she interrupted me because she knew I was about to decline.
Which I was. Am.
“Vicky, look?—”
“Don’t say look. Please don’t. Imogen and I really want to get to know you. You’re going to be our sister-in-law, which makes you one of us. Please say yes. We won’t make it awkward, I promise.” She giggles. “Okay, maybe a bit awkward, but a few wines will take the edge off that.”
I hate saying no at the best of times, evenwith people I’m close to. At my core, I’m a people pleaser, and she sounds so earnest that, against my better judgement, I give in to her pleading.
“Okay, but nothing extravagant. Can I also invite my best friend?”
She squeals. “Amazing. It’s your hen party. You can invite whomever you want to. Apart from Christian. No boys allowed. And I promise, it’ll just be dinner, drinks, and good conversation. I’ll message you with all the details. Add me to your contacts. We’re besties now.”
She hangs up without waiting for me to say anything else. Probably to stop me having second thoughts and backing out.
I pick up the phone to call Juliet, then change my mind and text her instead. She’s at work, and her boss is a bit of a dick who sends death stares her way if she answers personal calls during working hours.
Me: So, apparently, I’m having a hen party this Saturday, and you’re my wing-girl.
