Chapter 2
Chapter Two
CHRISTIAN
The masked ball is in full swing as I stand on the sidelines and scan the email from Secretary of State Bartholomew, the man in charge of, among other things, the Health and Safety Executive.
A mixture of relief and annoyance races through me.
The bastard kept me waiting four fucking weeks to confirm he’d buried the truth about the building collapse.
I could have pressed harder or reminded him of the threat hanging over his head if he didn’t come through for me, but I find these things are better kept as friendly as possible.
Besides, who knows when I may need to use his secret child as leverage sometime in the future.
A faint smile pulls at the corners of my mouth as I read the email, although I don’t feel as though I’ve won. Two people lost their lives in part because of my failings. They were far from blameless, but if I’d done my fucking job right, they wouldn’t have had the chance to dupe me.
The thought of my family finding out what really happened is something I can’t, won’t entertain. Nor do I want Grania and Drew’s kids to find out just how much their parents contributed to their deaths. I’ll take the truth to my grave.
“Christian.” Nicholas claps me on my shoulder. “What the fuck is going on with you?”
I stuff my phone into my pocket and frown at him. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t be obtuse. You haven’t been yourself for months. Is the building collapse still playing on your mind? Is there anything I can do?”
“I’m fine,” I snap, guilt and fear driving my reaction. “I just heard from Bartholomew.” I lower my voice. “Official report will state an accident. It’ll release to the media tomorrow.”
Nicholas angles his head to one side. “That’s good, right?”
My brother is too smart—far smarter than me. He sees more than he’s letting on. “Yeah. All good.” I force a smile. “Catch you later. I need to tell Dad the outcome of the enquiry.”
I wander off in search of my father. It takes a while to track him down, but I eventually spot him talking to my eldest brother, Xan. I lean in, lowering my voice. “No-fault accident.”
He instantly catches on, nodding and smiling at me while giving my upper back a fatherly pat. “Good job, son.”
If threatening to ruin a man’s marriage and career is a good job then I guess I just fucking excelled.
This family does whatever it takes to protect itself, and I’m not averse to doing the same.
If only I could shake this crippling sense of failure, put it behind me, and move on.
Maybe once the report is published I’ll find a way to do that.
My father, my brothers, and even Saskia, my baby sister, are always brimming with confidence.
Whatever they’re undertaking, there’s an assuredness about them that shines like a beacon in the night sky.
They know with one hundred percent certainty that they’re not going to fail, that there won’t be any mistakes.
Whereas, on many occasions, I fake my confidence.
The thought of my family realizing I’m the runt of the pack literally makes me feel sick.
Which is why I’ll never tell them what really happened to Nexus.
Leaving my father and Xan to talk, I skirt the edges of the ballroom. The news from Bartholomew should’ve put me in the party mood, but it’s had the opposite effect. If I could leave without anyone noticing, I would, but even the mask won’t stop my absence from being noticed.
“You look how I feel.” Tobias sidles up to me, handing over a glass of champagne. “We could ask Saskia to create a diversion and make a run for it.”
“We need Donovan.” Donovan Sinner, heir to the Sinner Dynasty, loves to infuriate Xan by shamelessly flirting with our younger sister, even though neither of them is romantically interested in the other. “Xan breaking his nose would divert attention for sure.”
Tobias chuckles. “For that, I might stick around.”
He says something else, but my attention drifts as a woman in a full-length, shimmering gold gown floats past like she’s walking on air.
There’s a stillness about her. A kind of elegance that isn’t practiced, it’s inherited or hard-earned.
The scent of her perfume lingers as my gaze tracks her, eyes panning over her curves, groin heating.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt an instant attraction to a woman.
“This party just got a lot more interesting.” I thrust my champagne glass at Tobias. “Take that, will you?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” he says, but I’ve already moved away, stalking after the woman in question. By the time I catch up to her, she’s at the buffet, scanning the options.
“I can recommend the smoked salmon and cucumber canapes.”
Her head turns. Her eyes, not just blue, but that rare kind of sea glass blue, collide with mine. “Thank you.”
She takes one and pops it into her mouth, eyes closing behind her mask as she chews. Slowly. Luxuriously. I stare at her, following the line of her throat as she swallows. Something about the unselfconscious way she savors it makes my brain short circuit.
“Delicious,” she murmurs, opening her eyes again.
“I was thinking the same thing.” I offer my hand. “Christian De Vil. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“We might have,” she says, the corner of her mouth tugging into a smile that’s polished but not plastic. “These masks hide a lot.”
“Not as much as you think. I’d remember someone like you.”
She ducks her head, lashes lowering like a theater curtain. Coy. Intentional. Controlled. I like it.
“Lady Grace Ambrose.”
“Well, Lady Grace, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Don’t let the title fool you. My ancestors spent everything on gambling and brothels. I inherited the name and none of the country estates.”
I keep hold of her hand for a second longer than necessary, then let her go. The warmth from her palm clings to mine, and her delicious scent envelops me in a cloud of vanilla and citrus notes.
“I’m not interested in money. I have money. What I don’t have is a beautiful woman on my arm.” I stick out my elbow. “Do me the honor of showing you around.”
She tilts her head like she’s assessing whether I’m dangerous, ridiculous, or both. “Lead the way, Mr. De Vil. I assume the dungeon tour comes last.”
I chuckle at her witty response. “How did you guess?”
She slides her hand into the crook of my arm, and we move through the crowd, emerging into the hallway.
Several guests are scattered around, some on their phones, others enjoying a few moments of quiet, chatting in smaller groups.
I nod at one or two people I know, but I don’t stop to introduce Grace.
As we move away from the ballroom, I point out some of the more formal rooms, and a few of my ancestors’ portraits, but I’m not watching the paintings.
I’m watching her. The way she pauses before answering a question, as though she’s carefully weighing every word.
How she walks like she’s not used to being looked at, but is fully aware that I am. That I can’t take my eyes off her.
I head for the gardens at the back of the house, craving some alone time with this stranger who’s captured my attention in a way few have.
I’m surrounded by the elite every day, those born with silver spoons in their mouths.
I find many of them vacuous and shallow.
Grace may lack wealth, but she has style, the kind you’re born with rather than purchase.
“Is this your first time visiting Oakleigh?” I already know the answer. If she’d been to one of the many balls we’ve thrown, I’d have noticed her before now.
“Yes. I recently moved to the area and was fortunate enough to receive an invite to tonight’s ball.”
“Where did you move from?”
“Cumbria.”
“What made you move to Surrey?”
She hesitates again, then her eyes glaze over.
“My mother passed away. I’d looked after her for a long time.
After she died, I didn’t see the point in staying up north.
” Her pain is written in the clench to her jaw, the stiffness in her spine, the slight bow to her shoulders.
“Many years ago, when I was a child, we lived in Surrey, although I don’t remember much of it.
I wanted to… rediscover my roots, I guess. ”
“I’m sorry for your loss. Losing a parent is devastating. No other family?”
She shakes her head. “Just me.”
“That must be lonely.”
She shrugs. “Maybe, though I’ve found you can be lonely in a roomful of people. Loneliness doesn’t come from how many friends or family members you have, but rather from within. From the kind of person you are.”
I blink several times. She’s deep, thoughtful, and rare as a fucking flawless diamond. “That’s astute for someone so young.”
She giggles, and I want to record the sound and listen to it while I fall asleep. “You talk as though you’ve got twenty years on me. You can’t be much older than I am.”
“How old are you?”
Her lips quirk up, and I get the feeling she’s teasing me. “Old enough.”
I push open the door that leads to the gardens. The scent of summer flowers is everywhere, and her nostrils flare as she draws in a deep breath.
“Gosh, it’s beautiful.” She moves away from me, stopping by an array of pink peonies and bending to smell them. She straightens, panning her gaze around. “If I had a garden like this, I’d spend all my time here.”
“It’s lovely in the summer. In winter, though, the wind whips off the English Channel and cuts right through you.”
She faces me, that faint smirk a little more pronounced. “Ah, there’s your flaw. Weather related small talk. There had to be one.”
I grin, utterly enchanted by her. Someone who says something profound one moment, then teases the next isn’t the kind of person I come across every day. “You got me.”
Pivoting, she moves farther into the gardens, her heels clicking on the stone pathway. I follow, my focus on the subtle sway of her hips. For her, it’s not put on. It’s just how she moves. She spins suddenly and catches me staring.
I meet her gaze and wink. “I’m not even going to apologize.”
“No.” She gives me a close-lipped smile. “You strike me as the kind of man who doesn’t apologize for his actions.”
“That’s a bold assumption considering we’ve just met.”
“I’m good at reading people. Comes from being the quiet, watchful one in a crowded room.”
Baby, where have you been all my life?
I gesture to a bench in front of the lake, the main feature of the gardens and my favorite place to be. The sun has fully set now, the moon bright in the sky and reflecting off the still water.
“It’s so peaceful here,” she murmurs, sitting with grace that reflects the name her parents gave her.
I sit beside her, staring out at the water. “When I was a child, we’d spend every summer swimming in the lake or boating. It wasn’t so peaceful then. Not with six rowdy kids splashing around and causing mayhem.”
“Must be nice to have a large family.”
Her voice dips, as do her shoulders, as though the weight of grief is too much to bear. As much as my family drives me crazy at times, I can’t imagine being alone in the world.
“It has upsides and downsides.”
Her smile returns, soft and knowing. “Like being able to share secrets? Or never getting away with anything?”
Her mention of secrets fires another mass of guilt into my bloodstream. There are some secrets I can share, and others that are mine to bear. “Precisely.”
She closes her eyes and takes another cleansing breath. The movement lifts her chest. I drop my eyes to her cleavage, then drag them back up to her face.
“Take your mask off, Grace. Let me see you.”
There’s a hint of hesitation—one that makes me curious. Is she hiding something beneath her mask? Something she doesn’t want me to see.
“I thought this was a masked ball.”
“We’re not at the ball.” Reaching around the back of my head, I loosen the ties on my mask and let it fall into my lap. She takes her time turning to face me, as though she’s fighting an internal battle.
“Allow me.” If she stops me, I’ll respect her boundaries, but as I pluck at the tie holding her mask in place, her arms remain by her sides, and she allows me to remove it.
I peel it away from her face, and my chest contracts. She’s more than beautiful, and not only on the surface. In the depths of her irises there’s something broken in her gaze. Something I want to fix.
I’m a firm believer in lust at first sight, and there’s enough lust surging through my body to power London for a month.
“Wow.”
She lowers her eyes. “Wow good or wow bad.”
I chuckle. “Good. Definitely good.”
Another of those reserved smiles pull at the corners of her mouth. The urge to kiss her is almost impossible to ignore, but if I do, she might run, and I’m not in the habit of chasing.
I’d make an exception for her, though.
A faint vibration comes from her bag. She opens the clasp and reaches inside, pulling out her phone. “It’s my friend. She’s wondering where I am.” She gets to her feet, but I capture her wrist and tug her back to a seated position.
“Tell her you’re with me and you’re safe.” I flash a broad grin. “I’m only a monster when the moon is full.”
Even the dim light cast out by the half-moon doesn’t hide the way the blood drains from her face. She shoots upright so fast, she probably got a head rush.
“I have to go.”
Before I can react, she’s off, striding up the pathway toward the door leading into the house
I race after her. “Grace, wait.” She’s through the door before I catch up. I leave it open and dart in front of her. “What did I say?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I—thank you for showing the gardens to me.”
And with that, she edges around me as though she’s afraid she’ll catch something if our clothes brush against one another and hurries away.
What. The actual. Fuck?