Chapter 6
Chapter Six
CHRISTIAN
The Royal Albert Hall is one of my favorite venues to listen to music.
It’s steeped in history, some of the best artists have performed here, and the acoustics are second-to-none.
But tonight, the music is secondary. The woman standing outside the front entrance in a mid-calf, navy blue dress that accentuates her stunning curves is a far more exciting prospect.
I’d had a concern that when I saw her again, the lightning bolt of attraction would have been something that struck only once. But as my car slows to a stop, and I exit onto the pavement, I’m living proof that lightning does indeed strike in the same place twice.
God, she is beautiful.
With her, though, it’s more than looks. She has a… a… quality about her. She’s different, and I can’t articulate why. Some women just ooze class without trying, and Grace is one of those women.
My bodyguard Marshall opens the door, and I get out of the car. He shadows me a step behind as I approach Grace. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long?” Taking a risk, I lean in and kiss her on the cheek.
Her skin pinks, and she ducks her head. That’s something else I find attractive. She’s shy, whereas a lot of women in the circles I move in have more confidence than a boxer turning up for their pre-match press conference. Grace’s skittish nature is part of her charm.
“Not long at all. Five minutes, maybe.”
I take her elbow and steer her through the entrance. “How was your meeting?”
It takes her a beat too long to answer. There was no meeting. She didn’t want me to pick her up at her home, I’m guessing due to her living circumstances.
She grimaces. “Would you think badly of me if I said there wasn’t a meeting?”
“As long as you tell me why you lied.” It’s one thing to think I know the reason, another to have her confirm it.
“I mean…” She motions to me. “There’s you, and there’s me. I may have a title, but it’s meaningless. We’re from different sides of the tracks.”
“You think I care what’s in your bank account?”
She rubs her lips together. “Most rich people stick to their own kind.”
“I’m not most people.” It’s a bit of a cliché, but in this instance, it’s true.
It’s also true that rich people flock together, mainly because they’re worried about being taken for a ride.
For not being loved for them, but instead for the size of their bank balance.
I don’t care about that. The woman I end up marrying won’t be a love match, so what does it truly matter if she’s in it for the money.
Although my father will likely choose someone wealthy.
Not our level of wealthy—few have our fortune—but rich enough.
Besides, I don’t intend to marry Grace. I just want to date her. And fuck her. Especially fuck her.
Marshall takes up his post outside the box, and I usher Grace inside.
The bottle of champagne I ordered ahead of our arrival is chilling in an ice bucket, and I dismiss the member of staff who offers to uncork it.
Once we’re alone, Grace floats to the edge, peering over the balcony at a perfect view of the stage.
Beneath us, the stalls are filling up, the buzz of enthusiastic concertgoers drifting up to our box.
“Will you judge me if I say I’m a little overexcited to see Destiny Winslow play in real life?”
I uncork the champagne and pour her a glass. “I’d rather you were overexcited to see me, but I’ll try not to sulk at being put in my place.”
She giggles, reaching out to take the glass of champagne from me. Our fingers make contact, and her eyes flare. Good. She felt the jolt of electricity, too. I was beginning to think the attraction was all one-sided.
“Cheers.” I tap my flute against hers, then sip. She does the same, her luminous blue eyes locked on mine. For a second, I’m transfixed, unable to tear my gaze away. “You have stunning eyes. Anyone ever told you that?”
Her skin heats for the second time, and she’s the first to look away. “Thank you.” Turning her back, she sits on the farthest seat.
I set my glass of champagne down and sit beside her. “You’re not used to compliments, are you, Grace?”
She doesn’t look at me. “They make me uncomfortable.”
“Why?”
Her left shoulder pops. “I don’t know. Does there have to be a reason?”
“No, although there usually is, just maybe one we don’t want to admit to ourselves.
” I clasp her free hand and bring it to my lips.
She allows me to, but she’s doing all she can to avoid looking at me.
“I love complimenting the women I date. I adore making them feel good about themselves. And you, Lady Grace Ambrose, are one of the easiest women to compliment because you’re that fucking beautiful. ”
She finally glances in my direction. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
Her tongue darts out to dampen her lips. God, I want to suck on that tongue.
“You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you, Christian?”
“Yes.”
The smile she gives me is genuine. “At least you’re honest.”
“I don’t like it when I’m lied to, therefore I try not to lie to others.
” Which is disingenuous coming from me, considering I’m lying through my teeth to my entire family.
Funny how I can convince myself of anything if it suits my agenda.
But liars in general are something I can’t abide.
Keeping the truth of my failure from my family isn’t outright lying, it’s lying by omission, and if it stops them from finding out how incompetent I truly am, I’ll live with it.
Her smile wavers, growing brittle rather than warm. “That’s… honorable.”
“My family and I are far from perfect, and many would laugh if they heard you use the word honorable as a description for any De Vil, but I want you to always feel you can be honest with me.”
Rubbing her lips together, she slowly shakes her head. “You’re nothing like I thought you’d be.”
“And how did you think I’d be?”
“I don’t know. Just not this.”
“And what is this?”
“You’re…” She looks up and to the left. “Normal.”
I throw back my head and laugh. “Did you expect horns to sprout from my head?”
Her eyes narrow. “Now you’re teasing me.”
“It’s true, I am.” I bring her hand to my mouth and press my lips to her fingers for the second time, pleased when she doesn’t pull away. “I promise I’m only a devil in bed.”
“That’s awfully presumptuous of you.”
“I prefer to call it confidence.”
She juts out her chin. “I don’t sleep around.”
“Good. That’ll save me from having a long list of previous lovers to murder.”
Eyes splayed wide, her jaw slackens. “You’re not serious?”
I keep my expression schooled. Teasing Grace may become my latest hobby. “Deadly.”
A spark of fear ignites in her eyes—not the look I’d hoped for. I throw out a beaming smile. “I’m messing with you. They’re all safe.” I lower my voice. “Unless any of them hurt you, then all bets are off.”
“That’s a possessive thing to say to someone you only met four days ago.”
“And what a four days they’ve been. There hasn’t been a waking hour I haven’t thought of you.”
She angles her head to one side, and it’s fucking adorable. “You’re teasing me again.”
“Not this time. I mean it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you walked past me at the ball. I knew then that I wanted you. That hasn’t changed. I’m a determined man, Grace, and when I want something, I go after it with every fiber of my being. I’m relentless.”
“Looks like I may need that restraining order after all.”
God, I’m infatuated with her. I can’t get enough of her wit, her company, her beauty. Her fucking scent that’s driving me wild.
“You should know I’m good friends with the head of the Metropolitan Police.”
“Of course you are.”
The lights begin to dim, casting the auditorium in darkness.
Grace shifts her attention from me to the stage, but she doesn’t pull her hand from mine as I thought she might.
I smile, and it stays in place for the next ninety minutes as I listen to Destiny play while watching Grace the entire time.
She’s entranced by the talent on show, and I’m entranced by her.
When the lights come up and the curtain falls, Grace turns to me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “That was incredible.”
I couldn’t have put it better myself. And I’m not talking about the concert, even if Grace is.
“Would you like to meet her?”
Her mouth forms a perfect ‘O’. “You can arrange that?”
“Of course. Like I said, her husband is a family friend. I know Destiny very well.”
“Then I’d love to. She’s my absolute idol.”
“Great. Let’s go.” I lead her from the box and, with Marshall in tow, we make our way backstage. I nod in greeting at a couple of people, sidling through the stagehands to the dressing room area before I knock on the door. A few seconds later, it opens.
“Christian.” Loris, Destiny’s husband, smiles, thrusting out his hand. “Did you catch the show? You should have told us you were coming.”
“I did. Amazing as always.” I pull Grace forward. “This is Lady Grace Ambrose, my date for the evening. She’s a huge fan of Destiny’s, so I wondered—”
“Enough said. Come on in. She’s just getting changed. Drink?” He closes the door, leaving my bodyguard outside. Not that I’d need protection with Loris around. He owns a security firm that deals in close personal protection and he’s a former Major in the Royal Marines.
“Not for me. Grace?”
“I’m okay. Thank you.” Her voice is small, but her eyes are on stalks as she scopes out the dressing room.
I’m racking up major brownie points here. All good for me.
“I’ll just let her know you’re here.” Loris disappears through another door.
Grace nudges me with her elbow. “I’m positively shaking.” She holds out her hand, and sure enough, it trembles.
I grin. “She’s just a person. Goes to the toilet like everyone else.”
“Shh. Don’t spoil the image I have in my mind.”
My grin widens. “You are enchanting, do you know that?”
“Wait until I make a fool of myself, then see if you still feel the same.”
“Oh, I doubt there’s much you could do that would change my mind about you, Grace.”
Before she can answer, Destiny and Loris emerge from the other room. She greets Grace with the enthusiasm of a long-lost relative, enveloping her in a warm hug.
“It’s so lovely to meet you. Did you enjoy the show?”
Mute, Grace nods.
“Grace is learning to play piano,” I offer. “And she writes her own music.”
Her eyes flare wide, and she gapes at me. “How do you know that?”
I tap my nose. “Not much gets past me, Grace.”
“I-I’m… I mean, it’s just a hobby. I’m not even on the same plane as you are.”
“It’s practice, that’s all,” Destiny says.
The two women get embroiled in conversation about scales and notes and chords while Loris and I chat, but as the clock edges toward nine-thirty, I interrupt.
“We’ll miss our supper reservations if we don’t leave soon.”
“Supper?” Grace frowns. “I didn’t know you were taking me to supper.”
“I’m taking you to supper,” I deadpan.
Loris snickers. “If my advice is worth anything, Grace, it’s this: go with the flow. Fighting against the tide is a waste of energy. Just make sure you order the most expensive thing on the menu.”
“She can order whatever she likes.”
We say our goodbyes, and Grace almost faints when Destiny invites us to Montford Hall, the giant estate owned by the Winslow family for generations. I usher her into the car while Marshall climbs into the passenger seat next to my driver. “Lumiére,.”
Grace stiffens, drawing a frown from me. “Don’t you like French food?”
“Oh, no, I love it, but…” She glances down at herself. “I’ve heard about that place. I’m not sure I’m dressed okay.”
“You’re fucking perfect.” I thread our fingers together. “If Lumiére has a problem with you, then they have a problem with me.” I grin. “And trust me when I say they don’t want to have a problem with me.”