Page 78 of The Devil's Deceit
As I rise to my feet, Christian is gazing at me with an odd expression. Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and I can’t stop my hands from shaking. I sling my handbag over my shoulder, then bury hands in my coat pockets.
“Sorry about that. Clumsy me. Did you see the tampon? God, how mortifying. I think seeing it put that poor old man off his lunch. Not that it should. It’s not used or anything.”
God, shut up, Grace.
Christian continues staring at me, his eyes narrowed. He’s seen. He’s seen Grace Taylor printed on that badge. The house of cards I built on shaky ground is about to comecrashing down, and I don’t have a single line of defense to call upon.
Am I in danger? Should I run? Call for help? Brazen it out? I wish Juliet was here. She’d know what to do. Although her advice would probably fall along the lines of “knee him in the crotch and get the hell out of there”.
He may not have seen. There’s still a chance my cover is in place. I wrinkle my nose and form my features into what I hope is an embarrassed expression.
“I’m rambling. Sorry about that. I always ramble when I’m mortified. Not that tampons are anything to be embarrassed about, but they’re not conversation fodder over lunch, are they?”
“No,” he murmurs. “I suppose not.” He pushes his chair under the table. “I am confused about something, though. Maybe you can help me understand, Grace.”
My stomach drops. This is it. “If I can.”
“I’m wondering why you almost broke my hand to get at that ID badge. What is it you don’t want me to see?”
That’s it. I’m done for. It’s all over. I’ve failed before I’ve begun, and the worst of it is, I haven’t discovered a single shred of evidence to help explain how my parents ended up under a pile of rubble. I’m a failure. I shouldn’t have agreed to this plan. I’m not clever enough or cunning enough to snoop around on people who are far smarter than I am.
The photo. Say you’re embarrassed about the photo. Everyone’s ID badge has a terrible picture of them. That sounds plausible.
I give him a goofy grin. “Sorry not sorry. I would rather die than have you see that photo. It was from a temp job I had a couple of years ago, and I look like a serial killer in it. Ididn’t even know it was in there.” A truth, at last. “I thought I’d handed it in on my last day.”
My heart’s going so fast, I’m sure it’ll break a rib any minute now, and there’s so much sweat dripping between my shoulder blades, it’s bound to leak through my coat if I don’t get myself under control.
He steps closer to me, and I’m relieved at the noise levels in here because otherwise he’d hear my heart thudding for sure. Raising his hand, he brushes the back of it over my cheek, then tucks a few strands of my hair behind my ear. “There isn’t a photograph in existence you wouldn’t look beautiful in.”
The relief that floods through me is so intense, my knees buckle. Thankfully, Christian doesn’t seem to notice. I force a laugh and palm his shoulder in what I hope comes across as a teasing gesture.
“Trust me, there are many photos of me where I look hideous, and the last person I want to see them is you.”
He angles his head to one side. “And why is that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I keep my gaze trained on his and hope he can’t see the pulse leaping in my throat.
“If it were, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Because.” I hitch up a shoulder. “I’d rather you see me at my best rather than my absolute worst.”Drop it. Please. I’m silently begging you to just drop it.
He brushes the pad of his thumb over my lips, and I hold my breath. This must be how it feels to stand in the dock and look over at the jury of twelve strangers knowing they hold your future in their hands.
“The last thing I’d ever want is for you to be uneasy. If you don’t want me to see the photo, then that is fineby me. I would never force you into doing anything you’re not completely comfortable with.”
My knees go weak, the sudden rush of adrenaline draining from my body. “Thank you for not pushing it.” As soon as I’m alone, I am destroying that bloody ID card. I’m going to burn the damn thing until it’s ashes.
He slides his fingers through mine, knitting our hands together. “Ready for more sightseeing?”
“Absolutely.”
My heart rate doesn’t return to normal for several hours, and even when we return to the house, I’d estimate it’s running a good twenty beats per minute higher than usual. The secrecy, lies, and trying to keep everything from collapsing into a heap at my feet is exhausting. To save my sanity, I have to fast track the discovery, but I don’t know how. Christian rarely leaves his phone unattended, and even on the occasions he has, I can’t break into it. I’m hoping once we return to Oakleigh I’ll have time to rifle through his office and try the USB drive on his computer. There has to be something I can use to prove he knows what really happened.
Even though Uncle Daniel thought it would be easy, and Arron and I were more cautious, I don’t think I considered just how tough it would be to find what I need to prove Christian’s guilt. But it’s too late. I’ve come too far and risked too much to back out now.
“I have to make a quick phone call. Forgive me for leaving you on our honeymoon?”
The chance of a few minutes alone is what I need. That ID card has to go. I wouldn’t put it past Christian to sneak a peek, anyway, thinking it’s nothing more than a silly photo when it’s my real name printed below the photo I’m desperate to hide.
