Page 20 of The Devil’s Lair

“You weren’t going to call me?” I’m oddly put out. No, it’s more than that. I’m disappointed, even though I shouldn’t be. She’s not under any obligation to call me, but last week, she seemed desperate, and from the looks of her now, that’s still the case. If anything, she looks more desperate. Something’s changed.

“I was. Truly. But…” She trails off, her gaze locked on her feet.

“Did Felton call you?”

Her features brighten for a second and she looks up. “Yes, he did. The police have dropped the charges. I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve saved my life twice now.”

“I wanted to help.” I lock eyes with her. “I still do. If something’s happened, please tell me.”

She shakes her head, but there’s a noticeable crack in her resolve.

I push my luck. “How about a cup of tea before you go?”

She slides her coat sleeve up and checks her watch. “I suppose since you’ve come all this way, a quick one won’t hurt.”

“Great.” I’ve got pretty good instincts, and mine are telling me that if I can prove to her that I’m trustworthy, she’ll open up to me. This isn’t a mother taking her daughter on holiday. It’s a terrified woman running from something.

She steps back to let me inside. “Let’s get your coat off.” Isla frowns even as she allows Rebecca to remove her coat. “Don’t worry. We’re still going on that adventure I promised you, but Mr. De Vil has come a long way to see us.”

Isla, in that wonderfully adaptive way kids seem to have, shrugs, then skips into the living room. Rebecca motions for me to follow her, and I do. Isla grabs the remote, points it at the TV, and curls up on the couch, her attention already absorbed by the cartoons.

Watching her, something shifts in my chest. Someday, I’d love to be a father. I think I’d make a good one. I’m a brilliant uncle to my nephew Sasha. The problem is, given my particular issues and proclivities, it’d have to be immaculate fucking conception. I suppose a man can dream. Who knows, maybe one day I could adopt. It’s an option, for sure.

“Do you take milk and sugar?”

“Just milk. Thanks. I’m sweet enough.” I groan. “Damn. I can do better than worn out clichés. Give me a minute to come up with something.”

She looks at me as though she isn’t sure how to react, with her head tilted and a hint of a smile she’s trying to hold back. “Won’t be long. Make yourself at home.”

I wait for Rebecca to leave the room, then sit on the chair nearest to the window. Isla furtively looks at me before she hides her face behind her bear.

“Ooh, you’re watching Paw Patrol. This is my nephew’s favorite. Do you like dogs, Isla?”

She peeps at me from behind the cuddly toy. Slowly, she lowers him until he’s in her lap, and nods.

“So do I. My brother bought one for his wife. Her name’s Daisy, and she’s so cute. Would you like to see a picture?”

After another brief nod, I take out my phone and scroll until I find a picture of Daisy, the real boss of our house. She’s sitting on Victoria’s lap, gazing up at her adoringly.

“Can I sit next to you?”

She pats the space beside her. I get up from the chair and sit on the couch, then hand her my phone. She takes one look at Daisy and breaks into a wide grin. She points at the screen, then looks up at me questioningly.

“She’s a Bichon Frisé. Cute, isn’t she?”

“You’ve done it now.” Rebecca hands me a cup of tea. I notice she didn’t make one for herself. Polite British code for: drink your tea and leave. I want you out of here.

“She likes dogs?”

“Loves them. Marcus wouldn’t have one in the house, though.”

Another strike in the twat column for Marcus. I’ve yet to put anything in the positive column.

“As kids, we had dogs, although Daisy’s our first in a few years. Made me realize how much I’d missed having a dog about the place. She’s got us all wrapped around her little finger.”

“Is she yours?”

“No, my sister-in-law’s. My brother bought her as a Christmas present the year before last.”