Page 79 of The Devil's Deceit
“Nothing to forgive. I might have a bath. My feet are aching after all that walking.”
He smiles, cups my cheek, and presses a brief kiss to my lips. “Save space for me.” He disappears into a room off the hallway.
As soon as the door clicks shut, I race to the kitchen. There has to be matches in here, or a lighter or something. Does plastic even burn? I have no idea. A quick internet search tells me what I need to know. Burning won’t work. I yank open several drawers before I find a pair of scissors.
I pull the ID card out of my bag and get to work cutting it into the smallest pieces possible. Once that’s done, I search the cupboards again until I happen upon a roll of plastic bags. I scoop all the pieces into the bag, tie a knot in it and open the kitchen waste bin.
Damn it. Empty. Of course. The housekeeper would’ve emptied it this morning. Although it’s highly unlikely Christian will riffle through a food waste bin in search of an ID card I’ve already convinced him I didn’t want him looking at, I’m not willing to take any chances. I stuff the plastic bag into my purse and return to the hallway. The door Christian went though is still shut. Okay, I have time.
I shoot back to the kitchen, open the door that leads to the garden and, using the torch on my phone as illumination, make my way to the row of recycling and regular waste bins lined up like well-trained soldiers. I open the household waste one and see it’s half full. Good enough. I stuff the plastic bag down the side as far as it will go. That should do it. Returning to the house, I thoroughly wash my hands, then race upstairs and turn on the hot water tap over the bath, adding half a bottle of bubble bath and several scoops of bath salts.
Exhaustion swamps me, and I perch my bum on the rim and press the heels of my hands to my eye sockets. All this sneaking around is sapping my energy, yet I’ve achieved nothing I set out to.
By the time the bath is full to the brim, there’s still no sign of Christian. I’m unsure whether I’m relieved or disappointed. I strip off and sink beneath the bubbles, resting my head on a rolled-up towel.
Tomorrow, we return to Oakleigh, then the real work begins.
I only hope I’m up to the task, but I’ve a horrible feeling I’ve bitten off far more than I can chew.
Chapter Twenty-Six
GRACE
This is it. The day I’ve been waiting for. Christian is going on a three-day overseas trip.
Since we returned from honeymoon four days ago, I’ve hardly had a minute to myself to breathe, let alone snoop. When I’m not with Christian, Imogen and Vicky seem to have taken it upon themselves to Velcro to my sides, and while I appreciate their support in helping me settle in to life at Oakleigh, their constant presence does not help my cause.
They don’t know that, of course, but it doesn’t stop me from cursing every time I think I have five minutes spare, only to have one or both of them spring up out of nowhere and announce we’re doing something fun.
It is nice to have girlfriends around, though. I miss Juliet. I’ll call her tonight and see if we can arrange a meet up at her place. I need to talk to someone about my lack of progress and brainstorm ideas. I’ll have my bodyguard with me—a rather stuffy looking man called Powell, who Christian introduced me to the day we arrived back at Oakleigh—but Christianused to leave Marshall outside Juliet’s flat when he visited, so I can do the same.
Arron’s frustration at my lack of progress was evident in the last message he left on the burner phone. Or, I should say, Uncle Daniel’s frustration. I’m beginning to think that Arron is turning into Uncle Daniel’s puppet. My brother has always treated me with respect, but the “What the fuck, Grace? You’re failing our parents more and more every day” sounded far more like something Dad’s brother would say. Didn’t stop his words stinging, though. Next time I see him, he’ll get a piece of my mind.
In fact… that’s an idea. When I call Juliet later from the privacy of Christian’s apartment, I’ll have Arron arrive at her place long before my shadow and I arrive. Once I’m inside, I can tell him to his face that his sarcastic attitude is not helping. That if he is parroting Uncle Daniel, he can fuck all the way off. I’m the one faking it every day, even though it exhausts me. I’m the one taking all the risks, in fear of what will happen to me when the lies I’ve spun are revealed.
I’m the one slowly falling for a man who will hate me when he learns who I really am.
For the hundredth time, I wish Christian was as vile as I’d thought he was before we met. Even grouchy like his brother Alexander would make what I’m doing a little more palatable. Instead, he’s all sunshine and smiles, and fire in bed.
He emerges from the walk-in wardrobe pulling a carry-on suitcase behind him. “You look how I feel.”
“How’s that?” I ask.
“Depressed.” He props the suitcase against the wall and strolls over. Resting his hands on my hips, he lowers his head and brushes his lips against mine. “I’d rather stay here withyou, but there’s no diverting my father once he’s made a decision. I’ve no idea why it’s me rather than him or Nicholas going on this business trip with Xan.”
“It’s three days. I’m sure it’ll go fast.”
“Here’s hoping. While I’m away, I want you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Apply for your passport. Next trip abroad, I want you to come with me. I know, I know, you’re afraid of flying, and having a passport doesn’t help with that, but I’ve already spoken to one of our pilots, and he’s more than happy to talk through your fears with you and allay every single one. Flying is far safer than driving or even walking down the street, and you do both of those without thinking.”
Guilt presses down on my chest, flattening my lungs. I can’t get a full breath. I avert my gaze, plucking a piece of lint off his jacket as a distraction. Somehow, I have to divert him from this train of thought.
“Christian, traveling with you feels awfully… serious, and we both agreed this wasn’t real.”
His brows furrow. “Are you trying to tell me you’re done? I know that’s what we agreed but?—”
