Page 24 of The Devil's Deceit

“No.”

She gnaws at her bottom lip, and all I want to do is bite her there. “I… I should go.”

Reluctantly, I release her, stepping back to give her space. “I’ll have the invitations sent.”

“Thank you. I’ll… I’ll see you then.”

My eyes track her as she walks away. Only when she disappears from view do I get into my car.

The ball can’t come soon enough.

Chapter Nine

GRACE

The bags under my eyes do not belong on a woman of my age. This is what happens when the man you hate kisses you, and you spend the entire night staring at the ceiling and questioning every… damn… thing.

I must’ve told myself a hundred times it was just a kiss, but there are kisses and then there arekisses.The former is a pleasant interlude—something to enjoy at the time and immediately forget about. The latter is life-altering.

Why? Why didhehave to be the one to make the ground beneath my feet precarious? How I walked away without my legs caving in is a mystery I’ll never solve. My knees knocked the entire way, my thigh muscles trembling until I turned the corner and collapsed against the wall.

I can still feel his lips on mine, his tongue inside my mouth, his hands in my hair.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

This is all Arron’s fault. If he wasn’t so bloody clever and somehow found out where Christian would be yesterday then I wouldn’t be in this mess.

Get it together, Grace.

We’ve planned for this, and our plan is working. Christian kissing me should make me happy. It’s the logical next step. What wasn’t in the plan, though, was the way I responded to it, and I don’t know how to handle my feelings. Is it even possible to stop ourselves from a physical reaction? Christian De Vil is a good-looking man—gorgeous, in fact—but there’s more to attraction than looks.

Next time he kisses me (and I’m pretty sure there will be a next time), instead of letting my body lead the way, I need tothink. Torememberwhat he did and how he covered it up to protect himself and his family.

Hekilledmy parents.

Yes, that’s what I’ll do. That’ll work. It has to.

Throwing back the covers, I climb out of bed and jump into the shower. I have a week to mentally prepare for the ball. Only one person can help me do that: Juliet.

Arron’s nowhere around when I trudge into the kitchen twenty minutes later. He’s left a note on the kitchen table.Back around 1.

I grab a pen off the kitchen window ledge and scrawl underneath it.Gone to Juliet’s. No idea when I’ll be back.

Flicking the kettle on, I drop two slices of bread in the toaster. While I wait for it to pop, I send Juliet a text.

Me: SOS. Be at yours in forty-five.

Leaving my phone on the table, I drop a tea bag into a mug and gaze out the kitchen window. Fluffy white clouds pepper the sky, and the trees sway in a mild breeze. I love summer. I’m a total summer girl. It reminds me of weekends at the beach, building sandcastles, and running from dadwhen he threatened to throw me into the sea. He’d catch me easily, swinging me over his shoulder before sprinting into the waves with me squealing like a pig.

Pain sears across my chest. I clasp the edge of the kitchen worktop to steady myself. I miss him. I miss Mum. I miss the life we had. We didn’t have the riches of the De Vils, but we were rich in love, and that’s worth far more than a million zeros in a bank account.

These are the memories I need to pull on the next time Christian touches me.

My phone dings, and I glance at the screen.

Juliet: I’ll make sure there’s cake.

A smile stretches my lips wide. This woman right here will be the one to steady me and hold me together over the coming weeks and months. Arron is great, but girlfriends land differently. In a way, I feel sorry for guys. They don’t have the closeness with their friends that women enjoy.