Page 19 of The Devil's Deceit

I blink. For fuck’s sake, I’ve done it again; disappeared off into my head. I have form for doing this. I process everything internally, and when I’m spiraling, a bomb could go off next to me and I wouldn’t hear it. If I’m not careful, he’s going to smell a rat. I give him a dazzling smile that I hope reaches myeyes. I knew I should’ve taken drama classes in school. Instead, I chose music. I don’t regret my choices, but they sure are coming back to bite me.

“Sorry. I’m just overwhelmed with it all. I’ve never been to the Royal Albert Hall. Never met one of my greatest idols. Never dined in a fancy-pants restaurant.” I dip my chin and glance up at him through my eyelashes in a move Princess Di would’ve been proud of. “Never been on a date with a man as attentive as you are.”

“Their loss is my gain.”

There he goes again, and the worst of it is, I don’t think he’s faking it. I think he genuinely likes me. I should be happy—it’s what we planned for—and Iamhappy, but I’m also confused. No, not confused. Ashamed. Because I like it. I like all the attention he’s showering me with. It’s addictive—and dangerous.

While I scramble for something clever or interesting to say, Christian reaches into his inside pocket, withdrawing a vibrating phone.

“Excuse me, Grace.” He answers it. A few words are exchanged. When he hangs up, he leaves it on the table rather than putting it back in his pocket. My gaze flickers to it. If only I could get hold of that phone.

There isn’t a chance, though.

“It’s my mother.”

I blink, returning my attention to the man opposite. “Sorry?”

“The picture on my phone. The one you can’t stop staring at. It’s my mother.”

A ripple of excitement rolls through my abdomen. “May I see?”

“Of course.” He slides the phone across the table.

I pick it up and tap the screen to bring the wallpaper back up. Immediately, it asks for Face ID. So much for that idea. I almost laugh. As if it would be that easy. I could hardly sit here scrolling through his emails and texts, even if the phone had been unlocked.

“She was beautiful. You look like her. You have her eyes.” I slide the phone across the table. This time, he puts it back into his pocket.

“Thank you.” His features soften, then fill with a sadness I understand all too well. Considering his mother died more than two decades ago, it tells me the pain I feel at losing mine is never going to wane. Nor is the determination to uncover the truth.

Speaking of… “So, Christian, what is it exactly that you do?”

“Besides wining and dining beautiful women and attending masquerade balls, you mean?”

I grin. “Yeah.”

His fingertip circles the rim of his glass, and his eyes don’t leave mine. “I manage my family’s extensive property portfolio, as well as invest in new properties. I’m particularly interested in developing brownfield sites in urban areas badly in need of investment.”

Like Nexus.Here’s my opening.

“That’s philanthropic of you.”

His lips quirk up at the sides. “Not all billionaires are self-serving.”

Nor are they murderers.

“Some of us do want to make a difference in the world. Lend a hand. Give people in need a leg up.”

And bury others under the rubble.

My knee trembles, and I almost lose my nerve, but I may not get a chance like this for a while.Gut up, Gracie.

“It must’ve been hard on you, then, when that building collapsed.”

I immediately know I’ve made a colossal mistake. Christian’s expression switches from genial and open to enraged in the time it takes me to blink. A muscle ripples along his jaw, and his fist tightens around the stem of the wine glass.

“That subject is not up for discussion.”

Backtracking, I stumble over my words. “I-I’m sorry. That was crass. It’s none of my business.”