Page 26 of The Devil’s Lair

I unpack and put away our things. The bathroom is stocked with the most delicious smelling shampoo and bodywash. I put my own stuff on the shelf anyway. This is a temporary situation, and the last thing I need is to get used to the finer things in life only to lose them once this is over.

A knock at the door startles me. I answer it to find no one there, only a trolley loaded with small bites: pita, hummus, chicken pasta, crackers, slices of cheese, carrot sticks, and what looks and smells like sticky toffee pudding with custard. There are also a couple of boxes of juice, a bottle of still and sparkling water, and a few cans of soda.

Isla will love this. It’s exactly the kind of choose-your-own-lunch-adventure she adores.

I take the tray inside and put it on the coffee table. Isla devours the food, but I pick at it, my appetite nonexistent. Once she’s finished, I put her down for a nap. The “how to raise your child” books all say she shouldn’t need naps by now, but she gets cranky without one. Besides, I hate that every child is the same bullshit.

She falls asleep within seconds. I sit beside her bed, watching her sleep like I used to when she was a baby. My heart squeezes tight.

“We’re going to be okay, pumpkin.”

And for the first time since the terrifying events at Tobias’s club, and what came afterward, I truly believe we are.

Chapter Nine

TOBIAS

My entire family is gathered in Dad’s living room, and I know what they’re waiting for: me. Or rather for me to explain why I’ve brought the woman whose husband shot me, as well as her daughter, to stay at Oakleigh.

“Let the interrogation begin.” I grin, flopping into the spare seat next to Nicholas. “I can take it. Give it your best shot.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Saskia rolls her eyes. “You haven’t said much. We’re curious, that’s all.”

“She’s in a bind.” I shift my focus to Dad. “And I feel responsible. This shit went down at my club, and while I’m not going to betray her confidence or her trust by telling you what I saw that night, suffice to say there isn’t a woman on the planet who deserves our protection more than Rebecca.”

My father catches on to the truth in a split second. His lips thin, and his eyes narrow. “I see.”

“And now her delightful former in-laws have applied for custody of her daughter and, to help tip the scales in their favor, are spreading lies in the press about Rebecca’s mental health and how she’s an unfit mother. I intend to make sure they spectacularly lose their custody case.”

“Hmm.” Dad runs a hand over his chin. “I’m vaguely familiar with the La Salle family. I’ve met Preston on a few occasions. Can’t say I care for the man. Only met his wife once. Took an instant dislike to her. She has a cruel streak.”

Like mother like son. “Well, there you have it. Cruella De Vil—no relation—is about to get her comeuppance. I just want to make this go away for Rebecca so she can start to rebuild her life with her kid.”

“She’s welcome to stay here,” Dad says. “For as long as she wishes.”

“When do we get to meet her and Isla?” Imogen asks.

“When she’s ready. She’s… wary, distrustful. I don’t want to overwhelm her. This is a lot. We’re a lot.”

“Speak for yourself,” Xan drawls.

“I am a fucking delight, and you know it. You only wish you had my funny bone.”

“When she’s had time to settle in, we’ll take her under our wing,” Victoria says, twisting Daisy’s ears as the dog softly snores on her lap.

“We will,” Grace chimes in. “She must be so frightened.”

“Yeah. If anyone tried to take Sasha from me…” Imogen shudders, and Xan gets this murderous look on his face—Mama and Papa in full protective mode.

I envy them, their connection, their fierce loyalty to one another, and the baby they made—one my brother thought he’d never have. Not that I’d ever admit my envy out loud. I’ve been playing this part for years. The amusing one, the joker in the pack. It’s an automatic reflex by now.

“Does she have family she can call on?” Grace asks.

I shake my head. “She has a mother and a brother whom she’s estranged from. Even if they were in touch, from what little I’ve gleaned, they’re nowhere near financially or influentially capable of taking on the La Salles.”

Grace’s brow creases. “Poor thing.”

“Oh, and you should also know that Isla is non-verbal. She makes her needs known easily enough without words and she’s the sweetest child you’ll ever meet.”