Page 34 of The Devil’s Lair

“It’s ridiculous,” I scoff. “The stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Is it, though?” Dad asks, his gaze flitting from me to Xan and back again.

“Dad, come on. You know how much I love a joke. This is not amusing in the slightest.”

“Family matters, Tobias. Reputation matters. Redemption through marriage is the perfect way to control the scandal, douse the flames.”

“Even if I was on board with this, which I am not, who am I supposed to marry?”

“Rebecca.” Xan says it so matter-of-factly that, this time, I do choke. Once I’ve coughed up a lung, I stare at my brother like he’s got two fucking heads, and neither of them have a brain worth a penny. “Rebecca. As in the wife of the MP’s son who was shot and killed at my club two fucking weeks ago? That Rebecca?”

“Yes, that Rebecca. It’s the perfect solution to your problem and hers.”

“I don’t have a problem, and I’m dealing with Rebecca’s without any inclusion of rings or vows.”

“You do have a problem,” Dad says. “We all do, and Alexander has provided a solution. Think about it, son. Marry Rebecca, and the La Salles’ custody claim falls apart in an instant. There isn’t a court in the land who would remove a child from a woman with De Vil as her surname. It closes the scandal with something positive and gives the press a happy story to focus on.”

“Sure. Happy. A woman widowed two weeks ago marries a De Vil, and that’s not scandal?”

“It all depends how you frame it,” Xan says.

“And how do you plan to frame this?”

Xan slides his hands into his trouser pockets. “Abused wife finds comfort and support in the arms of the man her husband almost shot and killed.” He hitches a shoulder. “I’m sure our PR department can come up with something better but along those lines.”

“The La Salles will fight the abuse angle. It’s clear they think their son was some kind of saint.” Either that or they knew what a raping piece of shit he was and didn’t care.

“You leave the La Salles to me,” Dad says.

I walk out of Dad’s office with a promise to think about it, even if it is the craziest idea Xan has had in a while. I need air, space, and time to mull over this properly. If I don’t do this, I lose my club. And if I do?

What the hell am I even thinking? There are two people involved in this harebrained scheme, and there isn’t a chance in hell that Rebecca will agree to marry me.

I change into riding gear and head down to the stables. One of the grooms saddles up a horse, and I take off over the hills at a gallop. The wind steals my breath, and my fingers and toes are numb, yet I keep going, keep pushing. The speed helps me think.

By the time I reach the far side of the estate, the shock of Xan’s wild suggestion has receded a little. I dismount, leading my horse over to a watering trough to let him drink.

Maybe Dad and Xan are right and marrying Rebecca—if she’ll agree, which is far from certain—is a good idea. My guess is she’ll think we’re mad, and honestly, she has a point. But this could be good for her as well as me. She already said she could never let another man touch her, which plays right into my needs. I’ve always known my time to marry will come, although I figured I had a few years left to work out a plan to avoid it.

The more I think about it, the more excitement unfurls in my abdomen. You know, this could work. Divert press attention onto a positive story which allows me to keep my club. Marry a woman whose company I enjoy immensely, with a daughter I idolize, and an aversion to touch as deeply ingrained as my own.

For bonus points, she gets to stick it to the La Salles, too. A family who stood by and watched as their son beat, tortured, and raped his wife, and terrified his daughter so much she hasn’t uttered a single word in more than a year.

All I need to do now is approach the idea in the right way with Rebecca and hope she doesn’t run for the hills.

Chapter Twelve

REBECCA

Today is our sixth day at Oakleigh, and my initial discomfort has vanished. Isla has settled into life here as though she was born to it, and every person we’ve met, from the family to the housekeeping staff, to the bodyguards who patrol the estate each night and day, have been incredibly kind.

When Tobias first suggested I become his assistant, I’d suspected he didn’t really need one, and it turns out he doesn’t. I’ve met his assistant a couple of times, and she’s got everything he needs handled. I should be annoyed at him for lying to me, but his intentions were good.

It’s funny. I don’t think of us as strangers any longer. Tobias works incredibly hard to make sure our paths don’t cross all that often, but he still feels more like a friend. This entire family works hard, and I’m starting to feel like a spare part.

I’ll be honest, though, I’m enjoying the time and space to rediscover who I am. Five years of marriage to Marcus had me constantly on edge, picking my way through eggshells, terrified one would crack and bring his rage down on me.

I shudder. The memories of those years have scarred me deeply. I doubt they’ll ever go away, even ten, fifteen, fifty years from now. But Oakleigh is so peaceful, and precisely what Isla and I needed to stop jumping out of our skin at the slightest noise.