Page 75 of The Devil's Deceit

“Yes. You don’t want to keep asking me for money, do you?”

“I-I… hadn’t thought about it.”

“Now you don’t have to.”

“Gosh. That’s… that’s generous of you. I promise I won’t go nuts.”

“I want you to go nuts. That’s the whole point. It’s no more than you deserve as my wife.”

Her shyness makes a return, and she inches out of my hold. “Who is this?” She reaches to the back of the bookcase and plucks out a small frame that was hidden behind a large one, masking it from view. “I didn’t see them at the wedding yesterday, although there were so many people I could have missed them.”

My jaw locks as I pluck the frame from her hands. “That’s my dad’s brother George and his wife Alice. The staff must’ve missed this one.” I remove the back of the frame, take out the photo, and rip it into several pieces.

“Black sheep?” she asks innocently.

“Not until recently.” I toss the pieces into the wastepaper basket beside my desk.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

“You’re not prying.” I move in to her body, grazing my hands up and down her sides before settling them on her hips. “I haven’t told you about him to keep anything from you. I just hate talking about him, but you’re a De Vil now, so you deserve to know.” I take a deep breath. “We discovered, quite recently, that he raped my mother the day before she married my dad.”

Grace gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Oh, my God. That’s… that’s horrible.”

“Yeah. It gets worse. We also found out that my mother got pregnant from the rape, and my eldest brother is his kid. So was his twin, but she was murdered two weeks before my mother killed herself.” I tighten my grip, anchoring myself to her. “He disappeared before we could confront him, and we’ve had people looking for him ever since.”

“Jesus.” She presses her tiny palm to my cheek. “That’s a lot to handle. I’m so sorry, Christian. For you, Alexander, and all the family.”

I cover her hand with mine, leaning into her warmth and tenderness. It never occurred to me how much I craved having someone to confide this kind of stuff in, but now I’ve got Grace, I see why Xan and Nicholas are so fucking happy in their marriages.

“We’ll find him. We have eyes all over the world. My guess is he’s hunkered down on some tiny island without CCTV or internet, or maybe he’s hopping around, but sooner or later, he’ll raise his head above the parapet, and we’ll have him.”

“And then what?” she whispers, snaking her hand around the back of my neck and playing with the hair at my nape.

“Oh, he’s dead for sure. Alexander will take care of that.”

I watch her carefully for signs she’s shocked or afraid by my admission, but there’s no sign of fear.

“People deserve to pay for their crimes.”

“Yes.” I nod in agreement. “They do.”

Her eyes narrow, and she gazes at me quizzically, as though she’s looking for something but is afraid to find it.

“What?” I ask when she continues studying me like I’m a puzzle she’s determined to crack.

In an instant, her expression smooths and she shakes her head. “Nothing. Ignore me. I’m processing, that’s all.”

“Well, while you’re processing, I want to talk to you about our honeymoon.”

“What honeymoon?”

“The one we’re having.”

“I didn’t expect a honeymoon.”

“And I didn’t plan on taking you on one, but after you struggled to sleep last night, I had an idea that some time away might help you transition to life here a little better.”

“Kind of like a halfway house for alcoholics?”