The Devil’s Deceit (The De Vil Dynasty #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

GRACE

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

That’s the saying, isn’t it? Although, in my case, I disagree. My need for revenge burns through me hotter than a wildfire, leaving a trail of charred remains, ash, and soot in its wake.

Anger and grief push me forward, even when my courage wavers.

Well, that and Arron, my brother, and Dad’s brother, my Uncle Daniel.

Their unwavering crusade for the truth of what happened to our parents pulls me along in its wake.

Alone, I’m rudderless. But with my uncle and my brother by my side giving me the strength to do what needs to be done, I’m brimming with power.

My thumb swipes across my phone screen, navigating to a hidden album.

Inside is a single photograph downloaded from the internet.

Christian De Vil’s too-handsome face stares back at me, his smirk one that’s prevalent among the rich and powerful.

Those that have, can, and do possess this kind of superiority complex and intrinsic belief that they are better than everyone else.

That the rules don’t apply to them. That they can get away with anything—including murder.

I’m here to ensure that, even if he’s untouchable by law, he’s not untouchable by me.

Tossing my phone on the bed, I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror.

The changes to my face are still taking some getting used to, even though I had surgery six months ago.

It’s me… but not me. Incredible really what a different nose and reshaped chin can do to a person’s appearance.

The nose still has a few months of healing yet, but no one would know to look at me from the outside.

Four weeks have passed since I tested my theory that Christian wouldn’t recognize me, especially as I wore a thick veil at my parents’ funeral. Once I overcame that hurdle, I deleted the few images of me on social media (never have been a heavy user) and moved onto the next phase of the plan.

The invitation to tonight’s masked ball at Oakleigh, the colossal manor house owned by the De Vils for centuries, calls to me from my bedside table. I pick it up, running my thumb over the embossed lettering.

Lady Grace Ambrose.

The pseudonym created for me by my brother Arron, an IT genius who fabricated an entire history for a person who doesn’t exist.

Juliet, my best friend and the only person outside my immediate family privy to the details of the plan, bursts into my bedroom.

“Okay, babes, quiz time. What’s your name?”

Her exuberant entrance pulls a smile from me. “Lady Grace Ambrose.” I do a little curtsey.

“And where are you from?”

“Originally from here, but I’ve lived in Cumbria for many years.”

“Oh, really?” She tilts her head. “What brought you back to Surrey?”

“My mother recently died. I wanted to rediscover my roots.” A sharp stabbing pain cuts through my chest. At least grief is one thing I won’t have to fake.

Juliet flashes a beaming grin. “Perfect. Remember, let him lead. You just answer the questions he poses and don’t offer up any unnecessary details. Stick as close to the truth wherever possible. If you can answer honestly without blowing your cover, do.”

“Got it.”

“Ready to get this show on the road?”

I bite my lip and grimace at her. “What choice do I have?”

A frown puckers the skin between her eyebrows. “There’s always a choice, Gracie.”

“Not if I want the truth.”

She takes my hand and tugs me to sit beside her on the bed. “It’s natural you’re nervous. You’ve been through so much to get here. Once you’re in the swing of things, it’ll get better. But promise me something.”

“What?”

“However deep you find yourself, if you want out, you call me. We’ll find a way to make it happen. It’s one thing to be driven by a need for the truth, but quite another to put yourself in mortal danger. Don’t let your loyalty to your parents, or to Daniel and Arron, put your own life at risk.”

I press my forehead to hers. “You’re the bestest friend a girl could ever want.”

“Oh, I know. I’m a fucking treat.”

I grin. “And who knows? You might bag yourself a rich dude tonight. The place will be crawling with them.”

She waggles her eyebrows. “They’d be lucky to have me. I mean, I am a catch. Twenty quid to my name, but I can suck dick like a champ.”

A laugh bursts out of me. “God, I love you.”

“Same, girl. Now, get dressed, and we can go.”

The gold, sparkly, floor-length gown Juliet somehow unearthed at a charity shop that sells designer clothes slides over my curves. I could never afford something like this brand new. I have Uncle Daniel to thank for my surgery costs, even though I hate that he went into debt to afford it.

After Mum and Dad died, Arron and I found ourselves in a financial pickle.

I thought they might have had life insurance, but they didn’t.

I guess no one ever thinks they’re going to die young.

We almost lost the house until a kind benefactor stepped in and paid off the mortgage.

Despite my brother’s crazy IT skills, he never found out who.

The news of the collapse was splashed across all the news outlets because of the notoriety of the De Vils, and we think that’s what saved us in the end.

I’ll forever be grateful to that kind stranger. Selling our family home would have broken both our hearts. All our memories are here, and it’s all we have left of our parents.

Juliet zips me up, and we nestle in close, heads touching as we gaze at our reflections for a few seconds.

“He’s going to fall fast and hard. You mark my words.”

“That’s the plan.” The words stick in my throat, another wave of nervous energy flooding through me. This is it. Do or die. Fight or flight.

Arron taps on my bedroom door then enters. “Car’s here.”

I nod at him, rubbing my lips together before I reach for my gold clutch and slot the invitation inside, then pick up the ornate mask I came across on an online auction site.

It only cost me a few pounds, too. The fact the De Vils are throwing a masked ball plays into my hands.

It’s something to hide behind while I test the waters.

Another layer of protection so to speak.

“Let’s do this.”

Arron captures my arm as I pass, his expression steeped in worry. “If you’re even one percent concerned for your safety, you call me, and I’ll have you out of there in a heartbeat. I know this is what we want, but not at risk to you.”

“I’m sure Uncle Daniel will be thrilled if I fall at the first hurdle.”

While I love my uncle, he’s… I guess intense is the right word.

He was extraordinarily close to Dad, and losing his brother and sister-in-law hit him hard.

He never married, either, so he’s got time on his hands to let his hatred fester.

We all need answers. Without them, we can’t move on, but maybe he needs them even more than we do.

“Don’t let him push you into taking too many risks. I know he’s a forceful character, but your safety is what I care about most. Sure, we long to know what happened to Mum and Dad, but losing you isn’t a price I’m willing to pay for the truth.”

My brother is one in a million. Annoying as hell sometimes, but that’s older brothers for you. I lean in and kiss his stubbled cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you more.” His voice is gruff as he pulls his eyes from mine.

Pivoting, he jogs down the stairs, and Juliet and I follow. A warm breeze coats my bare arms when Arron opens the front door. As I pass by him, he gives my hand a quick squeeze.

“Remember what I said.”

Nodding, I swallow the lump of fear in my throat and pick my way down the path to the car idling at the roadside.

I climb into the back, and Juliet gets in beside me.

As the car door closes, I can’t help feeling like it’s a prison door slamming shut.

What’s worse is that it’s a prison of my own choosing.

Like Juliet said, there’s always a choice, and I’m making mine.

Doesn’t help ease the lump of concrete that’s settled on my chest, nor the glut of butterflies in my stomach.

The drive to Oakleigh Hall takes forty-five minutes. A security guard stops us at the gates and asks to see our invitations. I take a breath and hand them over. He checks the names against a list and, seemingly satisfied, hands them back to me before he directs the driver to the main house.

The sun hasn’t quite set when we pull up behind a line of imposing SUVs with blacked out windows.

Juliet slides her mask into place and alights from the car.

I do the same with mine, then follow her.

We blend into the crowd; the invitations clutched in our hands.

More security greets us, and our names are checked once more.

I hold my breath, but then we’re waved inside and swept up with the horde.

“Check this place out,” Juliet hisses in my ear.

“I see it.” Keeping my head up and facing forward, I trace the footsteps of those in front of me who, from the looks of them, have been here before.

Eventually, we enter a ballroom with high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and a floor clean enough to eat off.

At one end is a stage where a violinist is playing soft music, and at the other, a table laden with enough food to feed what must be at least five hundred guests.

When the De Vils throw a party, they throw a party.

“How are you going to find him in this crowd?” Juliet murmurs. “Especially as everyone’s wearing masks.”

“Not a clue. Just mingle. We might overhear something.”

My stomach rumbles, a reminder I’ve been too anxious today to eat anything. I’m still too anxious now, despite the delicious smells coming from the hot buffet.

A tall man in a tuxedo and a silver mask approaches holding two glasses of champagne. He breaks out a beaming smile and passes the glasses to us. “Can’t have two beautiful ladies without a drink.”

I murmur my thanks and take one of the flutes from him while Juliet takes the other.

“How kind of you, thank you.” In true Juliet fashion, she flutters her eyelashes at him. “I’m Juliet, and this gorgeous creature is Lady Grace Ambrose.”

The stranger pans his gaze to me, his smile courteous, then returns his attention to Juliet. “I’m Gray Sinner.”

“And are you?” She flutters her eyelashes at him again. “A sinner, I mean.”

I somehow suppress a giggle. Juliet has always been a terrible flirt, but if watching her at work stops me from thinking about what I’m here to do for a few seconds, I’ll take it.

“When the situation calls for it.” He flashes her another white-toothed smile.

“Whereabouts in America are you from?” she asks, picking up on his accent.

“California.”

“I’ve never been.”

“You should. It’s stunning.”

“Like you.” She touches his arm playfully. My best friend in full flow is a sight to behold. I’m going to need to channel some of her confidence if I’m to stand a hope of pulling off the deception of the century.

“So, tell me,” Juliet almost purrs. “How do you know the De Vils?”

“Oh, we go way back. My family does a lot of business with theirs.”

“Is that so?” She smooths a hand over the lapels on his jacket. “I presume that means you visit England a lot?”

“You’re wasting your time, sweetheart.” Another man joins our group, clapping Gray on the shoulder. “My brother here is madly in love with his best friend from high school. Unfortunately for him, she’s firmly friend-zoned him. Isn’t that right, Gray?”

Gray glowers. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“You’re welcome.” He grins, all white teeth and the perfect American smile. “I’m Donovan, by the way.”

“This is Juliet and Grace,” Gray says.

“Good to meet you. How do you know the De Vils?” Donovan asks.

“Oh, we don’t,” I say.

Donovan pauses for a second, and my heart sinks. Have I just made a fatal error? Is every guest expected to know the family personally?

“My advice? Stay away from the unmarried ones. They’re devils in more than just name.” He chuckles. “And the married ones, of course. Their wives will scratch your eyes out.”

A breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh, drowned out by Juliet’s giggle. I figured this would be difficult, with landmines and traps at every turn, but to mess up so early wasn’t on my bingo card.

The three of them strike up a conversation while I tune it out, scanning the crowds, even though the only thing I know I’m looking for is a man around six feet three, with dark hair and an athletic build.

Doesn’t exactly narrow my choices down. The majority of the men here seem to fit that description.

How the hell am I ever going to know which one is Christian De Vil without asking Gray or Donovan outright? And considering he just said to stay away from the unmarried ones, that will only look curious.

As I’m running through my options, one of the many tall, dark-haired men in attendance approaches our gathering, but instead of stopping, he nods briefly at Gray and Donovan, then walks on by.

Could that be him? I twist my head to the left, tracking his movements. He stops a few feet away beside another man who’s staring at his phone.

“Christian,” the man says, clapping him between his shoulder blades. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

It takes every fiber of my being not to openly stare, even though neither of them are paying me any attention. Contempt crawls into my veins.

There he is. My target. My mark.

My parents’ murderer.