Page 82 of The Devil's Deceit
I scamper back to Christian’s apartment and, once I’m safely inside, I send Juliet a text.
Me: Are you free tonight?
The three dots I hope for don’t appear. Her vile boss is probably hanging around like a bad smell. It’s a full half an hour later when she replies.
Juliet: Sure. You need something?
Me: Yeah. I’m coming over. About eight okay?
Juliet: Look forward to it.
She’s smart enough not to question why the urgency. Neither of us know whether my phone is tapped or being monitored in some way. Next up, Arron. I head into the bathroom and lock the door. Retrieving the burner phone from the bottom of the box of tampons, I turn it on and wait for it to boot up. Once it does, I send a text to Arron.
Me: Be at Juliet’s for seven-thirty tonight. Call her and let her know you’re coming over. Don’t be late. I’ll have company with me, and they can’t see you.
My brother doesn’t have an arsehole boss, so his reply is instantaneous.
Arron: Got it.
Me: Oh, and do NOT bring Uncle Daniel.
Arron: Why?
Me: Just don’t, okay. I’ll explain when I get there.
I turn off the phone and return it to its hiding place.
And now we wait.
It’s a little after four that afternoon when Christian’s text arrives.
Christian: Landed safely. Miss you. X
Not that he’s texted me incessantly, but it’s the first time he’s put a kiss at the end. As much as I try to dredge up feelings of hatred, especially after what I discovered earlier today, I can’t. He’s burrowed under my skin, got to me on a cellular level, and even when I finally have enough evidence of his guilt to confront him and drag a confession out of him, I suspect the prevalent emotions will resemble resentment, disappointment, and, yes, loss rather than hate.
I can never share these thoughts with Arron or Uncle Daniel, but maybe I can share them with Juliet. I’ll haveto tell someone eventually or I’ll burst. At my core, I think, is my belief that no one is all bad. Just as no one is all good. We’re all flawed in one way or another, and feelings are far more nuanced than what we often like to admit.
Me: That’s good. I’m visiting Juliet tonight.
I add,If that’s okay, then delete it. It’s not up to Christian who I see or where I go. I press send.
Christian: What, no sitting at home pining for me?
I can’t help smiling, even after what I found today.
Me: Not the pining type.
Christian: Nor the type to put kisses at the end of her texts.
I’m trying to formulate a response when he sends another text.
Christian: Don’t forget to take Powell with you.
Me: Ah, of course. Mr. Personality.
Christian: He’s not there to be your friend. He’s there to keep you safe.
Me: Yes, boss.
