Page 110 of The Devil's Deceit

“I am.”

She replaces the bracelet she’d been looking at on the stand. “It’s a beautiful island.”

“Have you lived here long?”

“I wouldn’t say lived. We’ve been here a couple of weeks, give or take. My husband and I are… traveling the world. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Her husband pivots, a generous smile crinkling the skin around his dark brown eyes. Recognition punches me in the stomach. My pulse hammers in my throat. It… it can’t be. Shock must register on my face, because both the people on the other side of the counter frown, their heads tilted to one side.

“Are you all right, dear?” the woman asks. “You’ve gone a little pale.”

I clutch the edge of the counter as my legs wobble, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine. I went a little lightheaded there for a second. I haven’t drank much water today. Still getting used to the heat.”

“Here, take a seat.” Christian’s uncle darts behind the counter and drags a stool over, his hand pressing on my shoulder to urge me to sit. “There, is that better?”

“Yes, thank you.” I’ve only seen these people once, and briefly, in a photograph in Christian’s office. If the uncle wasn’t the spitting image of Christian’s father, I probably wouldn’t have remembered. That’s why she only looks vaguely familiar.

God, it’s unbelievable. What are the chances of me fleeing Christian’s wrath and ending up on the very island where they, too, are running from the De Vils? Albeit extremely different circumstances. Still, we’re both guilty of betraying that family, but at least what I did wasn’t a vile, violent act.

Nausea crawls up my throat. I take the glass of water that appears in front of me and gulp half of it.

I have to tell Christian. It no longer matters whether he hates me or that by calling him, I’ll expose my hiding place. None of that is important anymore. This man violated Christian’s mother. The family has been searching for himfor months. I’ll happily pay the price if it means they get the justice they deserve, and this man suffers for his crimes.

The two of them are still looking at me oddly. The last thing I need is for them to get suspicious and flee before I can rat them out. I don’t feel an ounce of guilt. He deserves what’s coming to him.

Ugh, I let him put his hand on my shoulder. A shudder runs through me. I cover it up by drinking more water. Does his wife know what he did, or has he made up some cock and bull story to explain why they’re on the run? Perhaps she believes they’re traveling the world. Some people are overly trusting, gullible, or a mixture of both. If that’s the case, I feel sorry for her because she’s got a hell of a shock coming her way.

The initial shock recedes, replaced with an overwhelming need to get these people out of here so I can call Christian. Except… my phone is in the safe at the hotel, and I don’t know where they’re staying.

Relax. Breathe. Play the game.

I force a friendly smile. “You people are so nice. Thank you. I feel much better now.”

“You’re welcome,” George says. “Isn’t she, Beatrice?”

I frown. I’m sure Christian told me her name was Alice. Could I have got it wrong, and these aren’t the people I think they are? No, surely not. The likeness is too stark for me to have made a mistake.

“Absolutely.” She peers into the basket, then takes it from him and sets it on the counter. “I think that’s all for today.”

I ring up their things, pack them into two bags and, proud that my hands aren’t shaking, hand them over.

“Again, thank you for your kindness.”

She pats my hand. “Anytime. Come along, Arthur. We should let Grace get on. It was lovely to meet you, dear.”

Arthur?

“And you,” I murmur.

Leaving him to pick up the bags, she sweeps from the store with him trailing behind her. The second the door closes behind him, I sink back onto the stool and take several deep breaths.

As soon as Samuel returns, I’ll pretend they left behind one of their bags and use it as an excuse to ask where they’re staying, with a promise I’ll take it to them.

And then… I’ll call Christian and take whatever consequences come my way. It’s better to do the right thing, even if it causes personal suffering, than the wrong thing and live with the guilt.

I’m living with more than enough of that already.

Chapter Thirty-Five