Chapter 26 #2
Keeping one eye on the door, I open the top drawer of Christian’s desk to find a pad of sticky notes, a few paperclips, a stapler, and a couple of magic markers.
I close it and open the next. Inside is a notebook.
I take it out and flip through. Only a few pages have anything on them, and it looks like it’s reminders of things to do or people to speak to.
There’s nothing remotely incriminating here.
I put it back where I found it and move on to the bottom drawer.
It’s locked. My heart rate shoots up. People only lock drawers if they want to keep the contents private.
I check his desk for a key that would fit the lock, as though it will be that easy, but there’s no key that I can find.
I check the bookshelves, running my hand along the tallest ones.
Nothing. He must have it with him, and why wouldn’t he?
When he gets back from his trip, I’ll wait for him to go to sleep, then scour his personal effects.
The De Vils aren’t like normal people. They don’t have a bunch of keys for their house or their car.
He could keep it in his wallet or his inside jacket pocket—all places I can search when he’s back.
Which means… more delays. I feel like I’m running on a treadmill, exhausted from the effort, yet getting absolutely nowhere. I am not built for the spy game. I’m not inventive enough or smart enough.
I’m about to leave when I spot a three-drawer filing cabinet to the right of a leather sofa. It wasn’t visible from my previous vantage point. I cross the room and pull on the first drawer. Locked. Great, now there’s a second key I need to find, or maybe the one key opens each lock. Here’s hoping.
I pull on the second drawer, expecting the same, but it opens.
It’s completely empty. I close it and try the bottom one.
That opens, too. Inside is a lever arch file, but there’s nothing in it.
I’m about to close the drawer when a flash of white catches my eye.
I drop to a crouch. Looks like a piece of paper has fallen down the back, possibly from the locked drawer.
My heart’s in my mouth as I reach inside and gently tug, taking care not to let it rip. Sure enough, an A4 piece of paper slides from between the backs of the drawers. It looks like the tail end of a letter, or an email, maybe.
—and in accordance with our findings. However, the requested changes have been made. I trust this meets with your approval and concludes our business.
Yours sincerely,
Thomas Bartholomew
Secretary of State for the Department of Work and Pensions.
I read it once, twice, a third time, nausea curdling in my stomach.
This is it. The evidence I needed to prove that Christian had the official report altered.
He is to blame for what happened, otherwise why would he bribe an official to bury the truth?
Not that I have evidence of a bribe, but come on.
Why else would a senior member of the Cabinet alter an official report?
If I had to guess, I’d say Christian has something on this guy—something he’s determined to protect.
I’m still staring at the piece of paper when the door to Christian’s office bursts open and his younger brother Tobias marches in.
“Oh, hi, Grace.” He frowns. “What are you doing in here?”
Adrenaline shoots into my bloodstream. My fingers tighten on the piece of paper. The validation I need to prove what I’ve known all along. Come on, Grace, think.
“You’re just the man I need.” I fold the piece of paper and slide it into the back pocket of my jeans.
“I want to get Christian a wedding gift, and I thought his office might give me some ideas.” Distract and divert.
Keep going. “I saw him using a pen the other day, but it’s not here.
I wanted to maybe get one inscribed with our wedding date, but I don’t want to choose the exact same one. ”
His face smooths, and he grins. “Oh, his Freywille, which I annoy him by calling his Free Willy.”
A giggle bursts out of me, partly in relief I’ve safely stashed the evidence and partly because that’s fucking funny. “Oh, my God.”
“I know. I behave as though I’m eight most days, but life’s far more enjoyable like that, don’t you think? Adulting is for boring old farts.”
I don’t know Tobias at all well, and now I’m questioning why not. “So, can you help?”
“I’m sure I can. What’s your budget?”
I have not thought this through. My budget is nonexistent, and I’m sure this Freywille costs a lot more than your standard issue Bic pen. “Um, I don’t have a lot of money.”
He looks taken aback. “Of course, you do. Christian must’ve left you with a credit card. If he hasn’t, I will kick his backside on your behalf. Part of the deal was your financial security. If he’s—”
“Oh, no, he did, but it doesn’t feel like a gift if he has to pay for it. I’d feel better if I can use my own bank account, even though there’s not much in there.”
“Hmm, a woman with morals and ethics. We’ll soon knock that out of you.” He laughs again. “Kidding. It’s admirable. Okay, something reasonably priced but meaningful.” He taps his forefinger against his bottom lip. “What about a leather notebook engraved with your names and wedding date?”
At this point, I’d agree to anything just to get out of here.
The piece of paper feels like it’s burning a hole in my jeans.
This is actually a great idea, though, especially as I’ll have to follow through.
Of course, Christian will probably burn it when he finds out I’ve lied to him since the day we met.
Not that I care. Now I know he’s guilty, I’m sure it’ll be a lot easier to get rid of this stupid crush of mine.
“I like it.”
He smiles. “I’m not just a pretty face.”
I smile, too. “Thanks for your help. I’ll leave you to it.” As I walk away, I keep my footsteps measured, even though I’m desperate to sprint across the office and escape with my contraband.
“Hey, Grace?”
My heart stutters to a halt. With one hand on the door, I glance over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I’m glad Christian married you. I know you both had your reasons, and they had nothing to do with love, but I have a feeling you’re exactly what my brother needs. One day, he’ll realize that, too.”
The only thing Christian will realize is that he was duped and lied to, and I’m sure that’s not what Tobias thinks he needs.
I can’t let myself care, though. I finally found something we can use.
Although I’m not sure yet the best way to use it, but it makes seeing Juliet and Arron even more important.
“Thank you.” I escape through the door and sag against the cool mahogany, a river of relief running through me. So close. If Tobias had asked what the piece of paper was, or if he’d come in a little earlier and found me rifling through the drawers… I wouldn’t have known what to say.
I scamper back to Christian’s apartment and, once I’m safely inside, I send Juliet a text.
Me: Are you free tonight?
The three dots I hope for don’t appear. Her vile boss is probably hanging around like a bad smell. It’s a full half an hour later when she replies.
Juliet: Sure. You need something?
Me: Yeah. I’m coming over. About eight okay?
Juliet: Look forward to it.
She’s smart enough not to question why the urgency.
Neither of us know whether my phone is tapped or being monitored in some way.
Next up, Arron. I head into the bathroom and lock the door.
Retrieving the burner phone from the bottom of the box of tampons, I turn it on and wait for it to boot up. Once it does, I send a text to Arron.
Me: Be at Juliet’s for seven-thirty tonight. Call her and let her know you’re coming over. Don’t be late. I’ll have company with me, and they can’t see you.
My brother doesn’t have an arsehole boss, so his reply is instantaneous.
Arron: Got it.
Me: Oh, and do NOT bring Uncle Daniel.
Arron: Why?
Me: Just don’t, okay. I’ll explain when I get there.
I turn off the phone and return it to its hiding place.
And now we wait.
It’s a little after four that afternoon when Christian’s text arrives.
Christian: Landed safely. Miss you. X
Not that he’s texted me incessantly, but it’s the first time he’s put a kiss at the end.
As much as I try to dredge up feelings of hatred, especially after what I discovered earlier today, I can’t.
He’s burrowed under my skin, got to me on a cellular level, and even when I finally have enough evidence of his guilt to confront him and drag a confession out of him, I suspect the prevalent emotions will resemble resentment, disappointment, and, yes, loss rather than hate.
I can never share these thoughts with Arron or Uncle Daniel, but maybe I can share them with Juliet.
I’ll have to tell someone eventually or I’ll burst. At my core, I think, is my belief that no one is all bad.
Just as no one is all good. We’re all flawed in one way or another, and feelings are far more nuanced than what we often like to admit.
Me: That’s good. I’m visiting Juliet tonight.
I add, If that’s okay, then delete it. It’s not up to Christian who I see or where I go. I press send.
Christian: What, no sitting at home pining for me?
I can’t help smiling, even after what I found today.
Me: Not the pining type.
Christian: Nor the type to put kisses at the end of her texts.
I’m trying to formulate a response when he sends another text.
Christian: Don’t forget to take Powell with you.
Me: Ah, of course. Mr. Personality.
Christian: He’s not there to be your friend. He’s there to keep you safe.
Me: Yes, boss.
I shouldn’t be flirting with him, yet I can’t stop myself.
Christian: Say that to me when I get home and you’re getting railed.
Me: *Shudders* You say the sexiest things.
Me: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Me: Is that enough?
Christian: Not even close. Gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow. Have fun x