Page 66 of The Devil's Deceit
Shit, shit, shit.
He knows it’s me. The surgical changes would fool an acquaintance, but I spent months in this guy’s class. Juliet catches my eye and correctly reads the situation. She swipes the back of her hand over her forehead. “I’m out. Need water.”
“Me, too,” I say, taking her lead.
We hurry off the dance floor and dart behind the velvet ropes. Marshall immediately moves into position, blocking anyone from coming into the area. I sweep the room, looking for Hanley.
“Can you see him?”
Juliet shakes her head. I stand, pretending to fix my dress, and turn my attention to the bar. He’s there, with the same guy as before, and he’s paying no attention to me. My legsgive way, and I sink back onto the couch. Maybe I read the situation wrong. He might not have recognized me at all. Regardless, I need out of here, and fast.
“I want to go.”
Juliet nods. “Leave it with me. Stay here. I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well.”
She returns to the dance floor, and I see her say something to Vicky, then point to me. Vicky says something to Imogen and Saskia, and all four women walk my way.
“Poor you,” Vicky exclaims. “Are you dehydrated? Have some water.” She plucks a bottle out of an ice-filled bucket and hands it to me.
“It is warm in here,” Saskia offers.
“Drink up, and we’ll go,” Imogen says.
Their kindness in the face of the false pretenses I’m here under cause a flush of tears to rush to my eyes, and one traitorous little shit falls.
“Don’t cry.” Imogen plunks herself down next to me and wraps me in a big hug. “If Christian finds out a night with us resulted in tears, he might dust off the gallows and have us all walking the plank.”
I laugh in spite of everything, and dash a hand over my face. “I’m sorry to ruin your night.”
“You haven’t ruined anything,” Saskia says. “I’ve loved getting to know you ahead of the wedding, but it’s late, and my feet are killing me. You’ve done me a favor.”
“Ditto,” Vicky says. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”
With two women on each side of me, we leave the VIP area. I can’t help glancing over at the bar once more, and when I do, I wish I hadn’t.
Professor Hanley catches my eye, and he lifts a hand ingreeting. He knows it’s me. Ignoring him, I turn away and trek through the packed dance floor, only taking a breath once I’m safely in the car.
One thing’s for sure: I’m never coming back to this club again.
Chapter Twenty-One
GRACE
It’s amazing what a team of people can accomplish in fourteen short days. Two weeks since Christian formally proposed, and one week since my carefully crafted cover almost blew wide open, thanks to my former professor, and today is my wedding day. The De Vils don’t let the grass grow under their feet, that’s for sure.
Christian insisted it’d be easier to get ready for the wedding at Oakleigh, and as Juliet’s flat couldn’t possibly accommodate the team of people fluttering around me, I had no choice other than to agree.
The lump in my throat as I said goodbye to Arron yesterday without knowing when I’ll see him again has had me on the edge of tears, but so far, I’ve managed to hold them back.
Before I left with my suitcase of personal items, Arron had pressed a USB drive into my hands, along with a phone—one of those old-fashioned flip phone types that hasn’t seen the light of day for years.
“The USB drive is in case you manage to gain access tohis computer. There’s a program I’ve embedded that will run automatically to try to break the encryption. If it works, I’ll get an alert, then I’ll take it from there. It’ll need a few minutes to run, though, so don’t take any risks.”
“And the phone?” I’d asked.
“It’s a burner. I know encrypted apps exist, but they still leave metadata such as timestamps, IP logs, even if the messages vanish after a set amount of time. And if his family decide to dig into your digital footprint, I’d rather not risk anything traceable. This one’s clean. You’ll have to make sure it isn’t discovered, but that’s the easiest way. Also, keep it on silent at all times. If I need you to call me, I’ll send a text. All you’ll have to do is check it every day—and don’t get caught.”
He’d grinned at the last part, oblivious to the constant nausea swilling around my stomach. The sooner I find a proper hiding place for the phone and the USB, the happier I’ll be. For now, I’m hoping concealing them at the bottom of a box of tampons will be enough until I come up with something better.
