Page 133 of The Devil’s Lair

“Wren? Is anyone home?”

I blink. “Sorry, distracted. What’s odd?”

A smirk pulls at his lips. “I saw you checking me out.”

“Busted.”

He grins. “I love it when you check me out. Your eyes go all glazed. It’s sexy as fuck.”

A blush steals over my cheeks. “You’re pretty hot, I guess.”

“You guess? I need to work harder. And for the record, you should see the number of times I check you out in a day. At least a hundred.”

“You do not.”

He laughs. “It’s probably more.”

I shake my head, although my smile won’t quit. “What’s odd, anyway?”

“Dad’s message in the family chat. Dinner tonight. All of us. No exceptions.”

“That is odd.”

The De Vils have a tradition that they all gather on the first Friday of each month, and attendance is mandatory unless there’s an emergency. But it isn’t the first Friday. “Does he say anything else?”

“No.”

My stomach clenches. “You don’t think he’s ill, do you?”

With the number of things that have plagued us recently, it’s automatic for my mind to jump to yet one more disaster. Charles is the picture of health, but sometimes that doesn’t tell the whole story.

“God, I hope not.” His fingers fly over the keyboard. “I’ve asked Xan what he thinks.” He bites his lip, his eyes on his phone. “He’s got no idea, either, but he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with Dad.”

“I feel awful for mentioning it now. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

He holds out his arms. “Come here.”

I put down my tablet and join him on the sofa, curling into his taut body.

“Listen, you never have to keep your thoughts to yourself with me. It’s natural you’d think something bad. We’ve had a pretty crap record of late. Things have to turn around sooner or later.” His phone buzzes again. He glances at it and laughs. “Dad’s sent a follow up: Nothing’s wrong with me, so no planning my funeral just yet.”

I chuckle. “I adore your dad.”

“Everyone adores Dad. He’s pretty rad. We’re lucky to have him.”

A bite of envy twists in my abdomen. As a child, I’d have given anything to have a dad like Charles De Vil. He’s always there for his kids, unlike my sperm donor. And as for Mum…

But that was then. What matters is now, and I hit the jackpot meeting Tobias.

“Hey.” He slides a hand over my hip, easing me closer to him. “What did I say?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking how much I’d have loved a father like Charles.”

Sorrow flashes in his eyes. He runs his nose down mine, then pecks my lips. “And now you have.”

At seven o’clock that evening, we gather in the dining room. All eyes are on Charles, but as I scan the room, it’s Saskia who draws my attention. She’s virtually vibrating, her cheeks pink, her eyes dancing with delight. She catches me gazing at her and winks, then makes a zipping motion across her mouth.

Interesting.