Page 97 of The Devil’s Lair

“Yes. Time’s up.” She sounds almost wistful and I can’t help wondering if she’s thinking about the men who violated her. Soon, I’ll ask. Not today, though. The timing isn’t right.

I cradle her face and stared into her eyes for a few seconds. She nods, giving me the consent I was waiting for. I press my lips to hers.

At first, the kiss is gentle, leisurely. It’s Wren who deepens it. Her warm hands slide around the back of my neck, and she presses her breasts against my chest.

I pull back, breathing heavily. “Wren.” I rest my forehead against hers. “I want you. I want you so badly, but I’m not ready to try again yet.” I study her, watching for signs she’s hurt by my rejection, but her expression is open and understanding.

“Take as long as you need. I’ll be here waiting when you are ready.”

What did I do to deserve this woman? I knit our fingers together. “Can I take you to lunch?”

She giggles. “Like a date?”

“Absolutely. Married people can still date.”

“Then, yes, I’d love to.”

Caleb drives us to a small bistro on the outskirts of London that serves the best ravioli outside of Italy. If we had more time, I’d fly her there.

My stomach is full and my heart so much lighter when we leave the restaurant at a little after two. Confronting the Southalls has lifted a weight inside me—one I carried for so long without knowing the cause of it.

Revenge is good for the soul. Mine, at least. I’ve already fired off an email to the same investigator who found the Southalls with his next brief to locate their other victims. I didn’t mention I was one, and he didn’t ask. He’s worked for my family before and, like anyone who works for us, discreet is his middle name. His signature is also on an NDA.

Besides, no one wants to piss off the De Vils, as the Southalls are about to find out.

Caleb opens the car door for us. Before we can get in, a voice calls out Rebecca’s name. In synchrony, we pivot.

Felicity La Salle comes dashing toward us. Instinctively, I move in front of Rebecca, but she shifts, standing beside me and facing Felicity head on.

“Hello, Felicity.” Her voice is steady with a dash of ice.

I slide an arm around her waist and brush her hip with my thumb.

“How is Isla?”

“She’s great, thank you for asking.”

Felicity ducks her head. “I am sorry for how I treated you. When Marcus died, I was in shock. I know you probably don’t believe me, but I did have Isla’s best interests at heart.”

Staying out of this conversation and letting Rebecca move into her power may be the right thing to do, but fuck me, it’s difficult. I want to shield her from the pain, protect her from harm. But as I glance down at my wife standing tall, shoulders back, chin proud, I realize she doesn’t need me to speak for her.

“What you did was atrocious.”

“I know. Please try to understand, I was grieving. Marcus was a dreadful husband to you, but he was my son, and I loved him. All I want is a chance to put things right. I even put the proceeds from Marcus’s house in trust for Isla when she grows up.”

Rebecca freezes for a moment, then blinks. “Wait a minute. It wasn’t just Marcus’s house. It was our house. How were you able to sell it?”

“Ah.” Felicity nibbles her bottom lip. “Marcus’s will named me as the sole beneficiary.”

That fucker. To not provide for his wife and daughter in the event something happened to him shows exactly the kind of man he was. I thought I couldn’t hate him anymore than I did. Wrong. I’ve hit a new level in despising that man now.

I tighten my hand on Rebecca’s to let her know I’m right there with her.

“Well, doesn’t that just about say everything.” She purses her lips. “Can we go please?” Pivoting, she steps toward the car.

“Rebecca, I’m begging you to let me see my granddaughter.”

My wife pauses, draws in a quiet breath and holds it for a second. Slowly, she turns to face Felicity. “I’ll think about it.”