Page 8 of The Devil's Deceit
“Why?” Before I can answer, her jaw slackens, and she whispers. “Oh, God, is your cover blown already?”
“Shh.” I glance behind me. “No, it’s not that. I just… I want to go home. Please, Juliet. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Enough said, babe.” She takes my hand, and we head toward the front of the house.
We’re almost there when a voice rings out. “Grace, wait.”
Christian’s hand grazes my arm, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to jerk away from his touch.
“Whatever I did or said to make you want to leave, I apologize. Please, stay for a while longer.”
“I-I’m sorry. I can’t.” I beeline for the door, with Juliet having to break into a jog to keep up. As the warm summer air hits my face, I almost sag in relief.
My relief doesn’t last long.
“The car. It won’t be here for another hour.”
“Cab it is, then.” Juliet says, digging her phone out of her pocket.
“I don’t even know if cabs are allowed on De Vil property. Won’t they get stopped at the security gate.”
“Yes,” a now-familiar voice announces behind me.
Well, one part of the plan worked. I came here to attract Christian’s attention, and I succeeded. Too well.
“Alan, please have a car brought round to take these ladies home.”
I pivot, almost colliding with his chest. I take two steps back, putting much-needed distance between us. “There’s no need, really. If you’ll just approve a cab to come onto the grounds.”
“I won’t, no. It’s either wait an hour for your car or take me up on my offer.”
Blackmail—something else I imagine this family is proficient in. Staying here another hour isn’t an option. I need space, time to think and process what happened tonight. The truth I’m not willing to examine too closely is that until he said about being a monster, I almost forgot who he was. I enjoyed talking to him, listening to his stories about swimming in the lake when he was younger. The monster comment did me a favor. It reminded me who I’m dealing with.
I dip my chin. “Then, thank you. I accept.”
Less than thirty seconds later, a black SUV with heavily tinted windows pulls up in front of us. Christian steps forward to open the back door. I nudge Juliet, and she climbs inside. As I follow, Christian touches my shoulder again. A shiver travels the full length of my spine, and the worst part? It isn’t borne out of revulsion.
“It was nice meeting you, Grace. I hope we meet again. Once more, if I said something that upset you, I’m sorry.”
The need for damage control forces a smile onto my face. “You didn’t say anything. It’s been a long day, that’s all. Thank you for showing me the gardens and the lake. You have a beautiful home.”
I slide onto the plush leather seat and close the door. Christian says something to the driver, but I can’t make it out. When the car moves away, I sag in relief.
“So, what?—?”
I place my finger over Juliet’s lips. “Not now. When we’re home, okay?”
She taps her nose. “Gotcha.”
“Where do you need to go, ladies?” the driver asks.
“Bra—”
“Dunbrooke, please.” I reel off Juliet’s address.
She frowns, no doubt wondering why I’ve asked the driver to take us to her place rather than where I live in Brackley Combe, which is ten miles closer to Oakleigh than Juliet’s. I widen my eyes to send an unspoken message, then take out my phone and text her.
Me: Your place is my cover. Remember?
