Page 73 of The Devil's Deceit

“It’s… well, it’s difficult for me to talk about. I’d rather not. I hope you understand.”

Damnit. I’m not letting it go. Not that easily. “Whatever you did or whatever mistakes you made, your family will understand. No one is perfect.”

He huffs a laugh, but it lacks mirth. It’s weighted down with bitterness and acrimony. “You’re right about that.”

“Well, then. Maybe talking about it will help. I’m a good listener.” I smile.

“I know.” Pulling the covers closer around us both, he guides my head until I’m lying on his chest. “It’s been a long day. You must be tired.”

I get the message, deafeningly loud and crystal clear:I’m not telling you, so stop asking me.That’s fine. I have patience. I can wait for his confession. In the meantime, I’ll continue with the original plan.

He drifts off to sleep, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. Wide awake, I ease out of his arms, climb out of bed, and pad over to the door, glancing back over my shoulder before I quietly slip into the small sitting area adjacent to Christian’s bedroom and close the door behind me.

Inside my case, I remove a dressing gown and wrap myself in it, then fish around for the box of tampons. When I saw the bag sitting by the couch, I almost had a heart attack until Christian mentioned he’d told the staff not to touch it. Thank God. If they had, they could have discovered the burner phone and the USB drive.

I take out the phone, flicking my gaze at the door that leads into the bedroom. It remains shut.

The phone takes a minute to boot up. My pulse jackhammers in my neck. I’m taking a risk checking the phone with Christian in the next room, but I have this urge to connect with the real me through my brother.

A text banner appears on the screen. I swipe it to read.

Arron: As soon as you see this, message me back.

I open the messaging app and type out a quick reply.

Me: I’m fine. Everything’s cool. I’ll check in again tomorrow, but don’t worry.

I’m about to turn it off when Arron sends another text.

Arron: Thank God. At least we know it’s working. Please check in daily if you can.

Me: I promise.

I turn off the phone and replace it at the bottom of the tampon box, piling the tampons back on top. Burying it underneath my clothes, I zip my suitcase and get to my feet. Christian is still fast asleep when I return to the bedroom. I’m about to get in bed when my gaze slides over his morning suit jacket lying discardedon the floor.

Could his phone be in there? Am I brave enough to look? I crouch, peel open the jacket, and slide my hand into the inside pocket. My fingers close around a hard, rectangular shape. His phone. I sneak a look at Christian. Still asleep. My heart is in my throat as I remove it. The screen comes to light. It’s locked, as I expected it to be. Padding over to Christian’s side of the bed, I hold the phone in front of his face.

It doesn’t unlock.

Of course, it doesn’t. Facial recognition software requires eyes open. Damn. The keypad appears. Six-digit code. There’s no chance of me guessing that in three attempts. I shove down disappointment and return to where his jacket lies on the floor, replacing his phone where I found it. It was a longshot, but worth a try. There will be other opportunities. Besides, his phone is only one avenue. There’s still plenty of others for me to explore.

“What are you doing?”

I shoot upright that fast, I get a head rush. I stumble, wavering on my feet.

Shit.

I glance over my shoulder. “You scared me.”

Christian rubs his eyes then raises himself up on his forearms. “What are you doing with my jacket?”

It’s only then I realize I’m clutching the damn thing in my hands. Think fast. “I-I couldn’t sleep.” Christ, is that the best you can do?

“And my jacket will help with that?” He arches an eyebrow.

“No.” I force a tinny laugh. “I was picking it up, that’s all. Creases, you know.”

“I thought you’d be more concerned with creases in your wedding dress.”